#he consistently rolls so poorly

[ceruark]

eat your heart out

synopsis: you’re a vampire just trying to get by via feeding on your friends, having no desire to find a mate. sunday has other plans. notes: yan! sunday x vampire! gn! reader. (yan! aventurine if you squint) words: 3,396 notes: modern au. vampires are fully integrated into society. cw: yandere themes: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, drugging. not nsfw but definitely a bit horny, my bad. a/n: apparently the key to overcoming writer’s block is having a really questionable dream

“Come on.”

“Aven, I said no.”

“Just one bite?”

“No. I’m not hungry.” You shove his face away from your arm, but he just rests his head on your shoulder in response. You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, you’ve had vodka. Your blood probably tastes like shit right now.”

The blonde scoffs at you. “It’s not my fault you have an awful alcohol palate.”

You glare at him, offended. “Wine is one of the only things I can tolerate. It’s not my fault you don’t have a more refined taste.”

Aventurine heaves a loud sigh and pouts, but drops the topic.

It’s common knowledge that, as a vampire, you need to drink blood regularly to sustain yourself. After much trial and error, you found that you can get by just fine feeding only twice a week. Thankfully, your friends don’t harbor any fear toward you and are more than willing to let you drink from them. You always feel bad for leaving such a painful mark on their wrists, but they wave away your worries, insisting that it’s not much to put up with so long as you’re fed and healthy. You’re grateful for all of them and will take what you can get, even if you have developed a particular taste for Black Swan’s and Ratio’s blood— and Aventurine’s, when he isn’t drinking that godawful liquor.

Others of your kind often tell you that it would be easier and more beneficial for you to find a mate. Drinking from a single person would mean that you could feed more frequently, and the consistency of drinking the same blood would make you stronger, and overall healthier. You’re reluctant to tell your friends that drinking blood of various types and quality leaves you feeling more lethargic than could be considered normal. They would react poorly to that information, and the alternative is something you don’t want to do— not in the near future, and maybe not ever.

The thought of being bound to one person until they die leaves you nauseous; you’d seen how well that worked out for your parents. Becoming accustomed and addicted to a single person’s blood is a tricky thing, and your father’s withdrawal symptoms had been brutal for decades. For a long time, doctors believed he would never fully recover.

So you always brush away anyone who approaches you with the intent of becoming your mate, insisting you aren’t interested and you don't need one. 

Aventurine seems to be gunning for that position, anyway. He has a habit of clinging to you and flaunting his neck around you, wearing accessories that bring attention to it or leaving it completely barren while wearing a low-cut top. His intentions couldn’t be more obvious, but you refuse to acknowledge them; you love him dearly, but not enough to shatter your fear of taking in a mate.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when the bartender finally places your order in front of you: a glass of classic red wine. You perk up as they bow to you. “Apologies for the wait, we’re quite busy tonight.”

You shake your head in dismissal. You were wondering why it was taking so long to pour a simple glass of wine, but you suppose some things can’t be helped.

“No worries,” you respond with a grin. The bartender watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take your first sip, and leaves once you hum in satisfaction and go back for more.

You remain at ease for a while longer, sipping at your drink and enjoying conversation with your dear friend (who ends up ordering another drink with vodka in it, how disgusting). The two of you are in the middle of an argument about who in your shared friend group would survive in a zombie apocalypse when someone settles into the empty seat on the other side of you.

“Having a nice night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden voice sounding next to you. You manage to catch the way Aventurine’s fond gaze morphs into a heated glare, the way his laughter breaks off and his genuine smile twists into that of a bitter one.

“Sunday,” he says in greeting, though the name rolls off his tongue with loathing.

Said man’s sharp golden eyes flick to Aventurine briefly, meeting the glare with one of his own, before looking back to you. You repress a shudder and greet him with a tight smile.

Sunday Oak, world-famous actor and esteemed son of the distinguished director Gopher Wood, has an interest in you that you haven’t been able to shake. Mr. Wood had picked up a screenplay you wrote, and you were ecstatic to hear that he wanted to meet with you to further discuss your vision for the film. The movie the two of you crafted together was a massive success, and Mr. Wood quickly snatched you up, not wanting to lose your talent to another agency. He’d seen something in you— “a keen eye,” he’d said— and decided to keep you around as his assistant.

Needless to say, you were in no position to treat Sunday with anything but respect, even if he did unnerve you. The two of you met in Halovian Entertainment’s main office during a major company meeting; as the heir to the man’s fortune, he was always at his father’s side, but as his assistant, you now had a place on Mr. Wood’s other side. You two are frequently around each other, and the more you speak to him, the more he seems to pop up in your life, even in places he shouldn’t be. He has a way of conveniently being in the right place at the right time, always lending a hand when you’re struggling to carry heavy equipment, or running through lines and providing an actor’s perspective when you’ve hit a roadblock while writing a script.

He’s always showing up when you’ve gone just a few days longer than usual without feeding, standing closer to you than he usually does. He’ll linger nearby, and the normally graceful and composed actor will somehow manage to gain a small wound that causes him to bleed and fills the air with a scent you can just barely resist.

You considered him a good friend at first. You might still be taken with him if you hadn’t long since figured out that he’s trying to sink his claws into you by getting you to sink your fangs into him. His demeanor is sweet, and his blood smells even sweeter— but you know better than to bite into the apple that the devil tempts you with.

Tonight, he’s decided to crash your weekly meet-up with your friends and sit beside you at the bar. He’s wearing a sheer white top that hangs lowly around his chest, leaving his pale, unblemished neck and collarbones as yours for the taking. Aventurine eyes his outfit choice with disdain, and had this been anyone else sitting with you two, you would have called him out on his hypocrisy; the black off-the-shoulder top he’s wearing shamelessly leaves everything on glorious display.

You turn your head to face Sunday— maybe a little too fast, given the way the room seems to spin a little. You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself together against the fuzziness in your head.

“It’s nice of you to join us,” you say pleasantly, trying to smooth your smile into something less forced.

Sunday returns your smile, before shaking his head. “I wish I could join you on more friendly terms, but I do have unfortunate news.”

You straighten up, a bit alarmed. “What is it?”

“It seems teenage drama is more serious than we thought. Yanqing and Yunli are unwilling to continue to work with each other.” He sighs. “They’re both demanding that the other drop the film.”

You stare at him incredulously. “We’re already halfway through filming.”

“Yes,” Sunday says, sounding as tired as you already feel. His eyes flit to Aventurine, before looking back to you. “I’ve already discussed potential solutions with my father, but we shouldn’t go over them in… mixed company.”

As an actor under a different agency, Aventurine shouldn’t be around for a conversation like this. He narrows his eyes, giving Sunday another strained smile. “Certainly you can discuss it another time then, yes?”

“It’s an urgent matter,” Sunday answers easily. “If we have to recast and reshoot, we should have this sorted out as soon as possible.”

The blonde is about to fire off another snarky response, but pauses when you place a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right, we need to get this figured out.” You squeeze his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and make sure Veritas hasn’t killed Boothill over poker? They both left the bar pretty drunk.”

Aventurine eyes Sunday warily, then looks back to you. “Fine.” He drops his voice to a whisper, “But you come find us if he tries anything, alright?”

“He won’t,” you whisper back, “I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he stands to leave anyway. He flicks Sunday a cool look before turning his back on the two of you, wandering away from the bar and toward the casino.

You turn back to Sunday, ignoring the way your head starts swimming again. You suck in an unsteady breath. You feel hot all over, burning like a million needles are pricking at your skin. You glance at your empty wine glass with concern— alcohol never hits you this hard. 

You clear your throat, putting your discomfort on the backburner for now. “So what did your father say?”

Sunday hums, propping his arm up against the counter and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There aren’t many teenage actors with the skill to replace either of them, and those with the availability are under IPC contract.” 

Your eyes go wide. Halovian Entertainment and the IPC don’t mix well, under any circumstances. “He’s not seriously considering extending the casting call to them, is he? The media will be a nightmare if we do that.”

Sunday opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. He takes a sweeping gaze of the crowd around them, too close for comfort. “Perhaps it would be wise to take this conversation elsewhere.”

You nod in agreement, rising to your feet—

—and immediately go crashing toward the floor.

The burning intensifies once you’re standing, and if it was swimming before, then the room is somersaulting now. You let out a cry of distress as you flail, your hands attempting to catch onto the counter or your chair as your legs give out beneath you. One hand feebly latches onto the counter, but slips off of it. Before you can hit the ground, Sunday rushes to your side and wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice dripping with concern and something else you can’t quite place.

“Something—” You cut yourself off, surprised at the way you slur your words. “Something’s wrong.”

Sunday’s face comes into view. His brows are drawn as he clicks his tongue at you. “Did you have too much to drink?”

“No.” You shake your head, and immediately regret it. “Alcohol doesn’t affect me much.” 

He frowns more at that. “Might you be getting sick?” He presses his hand to your head, feeling for your temperature. At the contact, your stomach roils, painfully contracting within you.

With horror, you realize it’s hunger. You fed yesterday— you shouldn’t start feeling hungry for at least a few days, nevermind feeling like you’re starving.

You tremble as he withdraws his hand. Your fangs poke at your tongue in your mouth, presenting themselves against your will. Standing this close to you, Sunday’s scent is too strong, and you feel your resolve hanging on by a singular thread.

“You’re running a fever.” He leans in closer, and you clench your jaw. “Do you want me to take you back to your hotel room?”

You don’t trust yourself to open your mouth right now. You shake your head, then move to separate yourself from him. You need to find your friends, any of them, and you need to do it now. But the second you manage to slip out of his grasp, you’re unsteady again, sent tumbling to the ground.

Sunday quickly catches you by the arm before you can fall and pulls you back toward him. The arm around your waist is firm this time.

“Please,” he says, sounding stressed, maybe even a bit desperate. “Let me walk you back. You can’t make it back in this state.”

You want to talk, want to tell him that no, he doesn’t need to escort you back— in fact, you’d rather him take you to one of your friends. But you can’t, not with the way your hunger overrides your brain and leaves you salivating. You can only bring yourself to nod slowly. Once he dumps you in your room, you can call Aventurine up and feed all you like.

The walk to the elevator is agonizing, but the ride up to the thirteenth floor is even worse. At least near the bar, you could distract yourself by catching bits and pieces of the patrons’ conversations, or by staring at the lights of the machines at the casino.

In the small and confined space with no lights or sounds— just you and Sunday— it’s much harder to ignore the roaring of your stomach. Unconsciously, the hand you have settled on his hip to steady yourself tightens, your nails digging harshly into his shirt and leaving crescent marks in his flesh.

He looks at you again, eyes shining in what seems to be anticipation. You would notice it if you didn’t have your gaze resolutely fixed to your feet. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You nod again, still refusing to open your mouth.

The doors slide open, and somewhere in your hunger-induced haze you manage to feel relief at the sight of your hotel door. You reach into your pocket and produce the key card. Sunday takes it from you and opens the door, holding you every step of the way until he can set you down gently on the bed.

Once you’re seated, you use every ounce of strength you have left to say, “You can go now.” Your voice is strained from the effort of holding yourself back.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone like this,” he says, and you grit your teeth at his words. “You’re clearly ill. I don’t want to risk things getting worse with no one around.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter as you close your eyes. He needs to leave, and soon, or you’re going to lose your mind.

His hand is against your head again, and you jerk away from his touch, clenching your hands into fists to ground yourself.

“At least let me take your temperature,” he pleads. “The first aid kids have medicine that will help with the fever.”

“Fine,” you concede, and he sets off to the bathroom.

His return is indicated by the bed dipping beside you and the sound of the first aid kit being rummaged through. You feel the press of the thermometer against your forehead, and then hear a beeping sound go off.

“102,” he says, sighing. “I’m going to give you some Tylenol, alright?”

You nod weakly. You sincerely doubt the medication will help with your particular ailment. You hear the packaging being ripped open, and for a long moment there’s nothing else.

And then, you smell it: the metallic, unmistakable scent of blood.

Your eyes fly open, pupils blown wide as they lock onto Sunday. He’s pricked himself on the needle in the first aid kit, and a small bead of blood sits on the end of his index finger.

Were you in your right mind, you might have been able to piece it together: the way the bartender watched you as you drank the wine, the way Sunday was in the right place at the right time again, and the way he holds the needle in a way that makes the injury look more purposeful rather than accidental. But such a train of thought has no chance of departing when your blood is roaring in your ears and your carnal instincts take over.

In an instant, you're lunging at him. One of your hands grips the side of his neck and the other settles on his hip again. You push him onto the mattress, using your body weight and enhanced strength to pin him down.

Your lips brush momentarily against the soft skin of his neck before you open your mouth wide and bite into him.

Sunday lets out a soft groan as your fangs pierce his neck. Your fangs hold no venom yet he finds himself going still, paralyzed from pleasure. Despite the stabbing sensation, he cranes his neck and presses it against your lips as much as he can, trying to make access to his blood even easier for you. In a haze of his own, he reaches up and tangles one of his hands into your hair, placing the other on the small of your back and pulling you into him even more.

His blood is sweet against your tongue— sweet like syrup, as sweet as he is to you. You’re past the amount of blood you need to drink to be sustained, but you persist in drinking, indulging yourself just this once. You need more, taking in such big gulps of it that it spills out of the sides of your lips and dribbles down your chin.

You move lower, trailing tiny bites down his neck until you bite down firmly into his shoulder, taking as much as you please. He breathes shallowly and moans at every nip and bite, but he makes no move to push you away. If anything, he only holds you tighter against him.

He trails a hand down your back, and a coherent part of your mind registers that his hold on you has gone slack. Suddenly, an urgency to stop manages to cut through the fog still lingering in your mind. If you drink anymore than you already have, you’re going to leave him weak and seriously injured. 

You detach your fangs from his shoulder and peel yourself off of him. He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, desire evident and overflowing in his gaze. His hair is a mess from the rough way you handled him while keeping him pinned down. His chest rises and falls with the ragged breaths he takes now that you’ve stopped, drawing your attention to the blood smeared along his neck and shoulder, staining his white shirt beautifully. He reaches for your hand, delicately placing his own on top of it.

Coming to your senses, you pull your hand back as though you’ve been burned. And you have, in a sense— the realization of the night’s events and what he’d done to you hits you all at once. You pivot backward, scrambling away from him until your back slams harshly into the bed’s headboard.

Surprisingly, Sunday follows you, using the last of his strength to rise and move across the bed to sit at your side. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you against him. You curl in on yourself, turning your face toward the wall and away from him.

You can feel the haze already starting to pull at the corners of your mind. Whatever he drugged you with is still in your system, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re hungry again.

In a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, you ask, “Why did you do this?”

You can feel him hum where your back is pressed against his chest, then you feel his fingers settle on your chin. He coaxes you into looking at him, grasping your face gently and slowly turning it toward him.

The affection in his eyes makes your stomach turn. With what, you do not know.

“I thought it might be nice if you wanted me as much as I want you.”

He moves his hand to cup your face and pulls you toward him. He presses his lips against yours, relishing in the taste of his blood on your lips.

[atlasmoonglade]

University AU Enemies to lovers

Joost Klein x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, PiV (protected), 18+ only

It's a Friday evening, soft music is playing through the speakers on Max's desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone is sitting in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on Max's bed, you and Olivia rest on Max's roommate’s bed. Red solo cups of beer are scattered amongst the room. It was calm and then the door swung open.

"Yooo!!" The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Max, who hops off his bed and heads towards the entrance.

“Joost!” Max exclaims, arms open wide to embrace his friend. “Where the hell you have been, man?”

"Consider my good time ruined" you mutter.

"Be nice" Olivia pats your knee.

"I am always nice. It's him who always starts shit. That di-"

"Hey, Y/N" Joost greets, taking a seat on the opposite bed. "Hey, Olivia."

"Hey, Joost" Olivia smiles. When you don't say anything, she nudges her elbow into your side.

You roll your eyes. "Hi, Joost"

"C'mon, that's all I get?" he teases. "What's wrong? You tired?"

"You have no idea" you say, finally looking at him. He is wearing a green long sleeve polo shirt and a hat, his blond messy hair sticking out the front it.

"Aw, is it past your bed time?"

"And the day is just starting for you? Let me guess, you just rolled out of bed."

"Oh, God" someone says "Here they go again."

"Max invited me here. I am more fun than someone who sits with a sour face all the time."

"Why are you talking to me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You know" Max says. "if you two just - I'm gonna say it - fucked one good time. You would get over this rivalry already."

Your jaw drops, you look at Olivia, who just shrugs.

"Don't ever say that again, Max. Ew" you say disgusted at the thought.

"Ew?" Joost says offended. "You would be lucky if I even considered it."

Your jaw drops even lower. "You arrogant asshole" you sit down straight. "And this is who you all want around?"

"Stop it you two." someone says.

You can't see yourself ever getting along with him. This "rivalry" as your friends call it has started a long time ago. During the first week of introductions, he asked you to speak louder, which completely messed up your track of thought and earned some laughs from the auditory. So, after the first homework tasks, you called his presentation uninspiring and poorly structured. He took the last internship place, which he knew you wanted. So, you assigned to write the final paper with the professor, he was planning to ask. You showed his old embarrassing Youtube videos to a girl he wanted to ask out, which lead to her blocking his number. So, he fucked your roommate, while you were still in the room. He calls you short tack, princess, anything but your name, making fun of the fact that he is taller than you. List of insults you call him is too long.

"I'm gonna head out" you stand up to leave.

"I'll come with you" Olivia left with you.

You take your favorite seat in the auditorium, noise of chatting students around you as you take out your laptop. The professor walks in, prepared to start the lecture. The room falling into gradual silence, then the door opens and Joost walks in. You watch him take his place further up, he notices you looking and flips you off. You mock him and flip him off back.

At the end of the lecture professor announces "As you all know the final paper consists of a group presentation. I took liberty and divided you into pairs. I will also email you the list." he pulls up the list on the projector screen. You search for your name. As soon you see it, the color drains from your face.

No. No, this must be a mistake.

A groan is heard from the back of the auditorium. "Professor, I am not working with her." Joost says annoyance clear in his voice. "Switch me to be with someone else."

You are sat in disbelief that you got assigned to write the final paper with Joost.

"This is a final list." Professor looks at the whole class. "Drop this attitude and act like grownups."

As the lecture ends, you hurry to the professors desk. "Sir, this is not going to work. He is going to sabotage my results. Can I just switch with someone?" you look at him with pleading eyes. "Anyone else."

"I assigned pairs randomly, so everyone has equal chances. You have to learn to work with everyone." he says. "This is final."

Joost rushes past us towards the exit. You roll your eyes. This can't be happening.

You meet with Olivia and tell her everything. She laughs in shock at first, but then insists you'll be fine, that you are adults and both want this done one way or another. You knew it’d be a miracle if Joost and you made it through 15 minutes of working on something together. 

You and Joost still haven't talked about it, as if pushing it to the last minute would solve the problem. It is halloween night, you are getting ready for the party, your costume is inspired by Britney Spears in her music video Baby one more time. You finish braiding your hair into two braids, fix your skirt, wait for Olivia and you head out to the party.

Loud music, neon lights, you already had a couple of drinks, feeling a nice buzz. Someone from the group of your friends suggests to play Spin the bottle.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." Max puts his hand around you. "C'mon grumps, you joining us?"

You push his hand away. "I am" you make kissing face at him. "Always dreamt of kissing you" your voice full of sarcasm. You and Max burst out laughing.

Your usual group of friends and a few people you met at the party find space in the house to set up the game, music still loud around you. Olivia brings the bottle, as you are all sitting in a circle, ready to start.

"Is there still space for me?" a voice behind you asks. You turn around to see Joost, his face painted to resemble a skull, he is wearing a black suit, which doesn't properly fit him and a red tie.

"Sure, man! We've been looking for you." Max makes room for Joost to sit next to him, opposite of you.

"I was a little busy with this girl I met." he says as he sits down. "Glad I found you guys just in time." his eyes find yours and he smirks.

"We are so lucky" you say contemplating if you should just leave. Olivia looks at you shaking her head as if trying to tell you "don't start it again", you roll your eyes.

For the past 15 minutes there was a lot of cheering as people kiss. Some give just a little peck, others fully commit, tongue and all. Max is currently making out with a girl from an acting class. Her hands are in his hair as they deepen the kiss.

"Okay okay. I am afraid you will start fucking soon." someone says. "I am not drunk enough to see that."

Everyone laughs and they pull apart, going back to their places.

It is your turn to spin the bottle, you down your drink and reach for the bottle. You give it a good spin, watching it, already knowing you will just give a little peck to whoever it lands on. The bottle slows and comes to a stop. You follow the neck of the bottle, it points to Joost. Everyone erupts into loud cheering and whistling.

"Finally!" someone says.

You look at Joost. Universe must be punishing you for something.

"Bring it on, princess." he messes up his hair. "Hope it's not gonna be your first kiss." he licks his lips.

"Pass." you say with a smile and cross your arms against your chess.

"No, that's not how this works" Max chimes in. "No skipping your turn."

You groan and look at the ceiling hoping you can just die on the spot.

Joost stands up and offers you his hand. "We will go somewhere private. Won't give you all a show. It is her first time, has to be special."

"Oh, shut up" you say. "Let's just move on, everyone"

"Just trust me." he kneels down next to you. "Can you do that for once?" he says looking into your eyes.

You stand up without his help and head towards the first room you see, you can hear his footsteps behind you.

You walk in and close the door behind you as he walks towards the window.

"I am not kissing you." you say.

"I wasn't planning on that" he replies and opens the window, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in between his lips and reaches for a lighter.

"You should quit that." you point at the cigarette in between his fingers.

He chuckles and takes a drag of a cigarette as you stand in silence.

"About that presentation.. " you start.

"I emailed the head of the department asking to let us switch partners." he looks down at his shoes. "He said no"

You look at him with your eyes wide.

"You would hate to work with me that much?" you ask shocked he went that far.

"I was doing it for the both of us. You know it would be a disaster. But since we are stuck together, promise me you won't fuck this up for us." he lifts his head up to look at you.

All of your anger returns. You can't believe you were about to offer him to put your differences behind you.

"Fuck you, Joost. Why do you think I would be the one to fuck this up? You are the unreliable one. Always gone somewhere doing fuckall with whoever." your hands ball into fists. "Fuck you" you say again and storm out of the room.

You leave the party without saying bye to anyone, you just need to go back to your room to calm down.

The street you walk back to the dorm is silent, lit up only by sporadic streetlights. It's late enough that everyone is already asleep or partying. Your head clears from the alcohol. You are deep in your thoughts, and suddenly you hear fast approaching footsteps behind you. You don't have enough time to realise what is happening, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. A flight or fight response kicks in and you scream, turn around and throw a punch, not risking waisting time to think about it.

Your fist connects with something.

"Ouch. You fucking bitch" you open your eyes to see Joost holding his cheek. It's not until you smell a familiar scent, cigarettes with cologne, your panic subsides a little. You think of how stupid your argument over the presentation was. The fear of being robbed or worse, has made you realise that Joost is not the enemy and never has been. Your hands start to shake and you burst into tears.

And then you hug him, your arms tight around his middle, he tenses but then wraps an arm around you, feeling you tremble.

"Hey, hey" his voice getting soft. "What's wrong with you" his other hand is still holding his cheek.

"I thought you were a murderer." you let go of him, still shaking.

"I called your name, you didn't hear?"

"No" you say "What are you doing here anyway?"

"No one knew where you disappeared to. I went looking for you." he says letting go of his cheek. The paint of a skull on his face has rubbed off from sweat throughout the night and you can see hints of red from where you hit. You start to feel sorry and embarrassed that you reacted that way. You reach out to him, but drop your hand before it reaches to touch his cheek.

"Let's not tell anyone about this." he suggests. "We can't give them the satisfaction of knowing you hit me"

It draws a laugh out of you and it makes him grin.

"It's the least I can do. I really am sorry, Joost."

"You are nuts for reacting like this...but I really didn't mean to scare you." he says. "Let me walk you home."

You walk together in silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the party." he says suddenly. "I realise I was kind of an asshole"

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yeah, I overreacted. I guess what i'm trying to say is.. Let's just do that presentation and not kill each other. I already felt your knuckles on my face, don't want that again"

You look at him, seeing the red mark again. "My room. 7pm tomorrow. Let's at least start it"

Olivia left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into comfortable pants and a cropped sweater. You sit at your desk, and wait. You’d told Joost to come at 7. 

There is a knock at 7:14.

"Come in" you say slight annoyance in your voice.

"I'm sorry, short stack"

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come" you turn in your chair to face him.

"I'm here now" he says taking a seat next to you, smell of cigarettes filling the space.

"I started writing a rough plan." you show him what you wrote on your laptop.

After 30 minutes of you two working out an agenda for the presentation, Joost leans back on his chair. "Wow"

It makes you look at him. "What?"

"Look at us. Not arguing"

"It's only been like half an hour" you look at your watch. "The night is young"

Maybe he has brain damage from the punch, but he can’t lie to himself, that night after the party shifted things. Seeing you so terrified caused a change in him. Feeling your arms around him, clinging to him and trembling so hard, softened him towards you.

He catches himself thinking you look so good all wrapped up in your shared work. He hooks his foot around the leg of your chair and pushes you closer to him.

"What are you doing?" you push yourself back.

"Why are you so far away from me?"

"I am not. I am an appropriate distance from you." you look at him as if he is crazy.

He pushes you closer again and leans in. He acts on an instinct, closes the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours. You press your hands against his chest and push away.

"What the hell was that?" you ask touching your lips.

He is just as speechless as you are. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grab onto the hem of his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Joost's hands grip your waist and he urges you to straddle him. Without breaking the kiss you put your legs on each side of his and sit on top of his thighs. He grips your hair and deepens the kiss, earning a moan from you, which makes him push up into your clothed core. You feel him hardening.

Joosts hands slide down to your thighs, he scoops you up in his arms, standing up and lifting you up with him. Your legs are wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supports your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. He carries you over to the bed, dropping you on top of the mattress. He looks down at you with a grin.

"These fuckers were right." he laughs. "We needed this" he leans back to you, his hands sneaking beneath your sweater, pushing it up until your bra is revealed. He looks into your eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yes" you moan, "Please".

His pushes your bra down, enough to reveal your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you grip onto his hair. He can't stop himself from smiling. He sucks harder, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise.

You rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Joost noticed this and proceeded to stick his hand down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirks at how soaked you were already and rubs your clit as he licks a trail up to your neck. You tighten your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. His cock is pressed against the zipper of his jeans, getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your clit, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

"Do you want to do this?" he looks at you.

"Yes." you reply with no hesitation. "Condoms are in the drawer."

He gets off the bed, finds the pack of condoms, tears the foil with his teeth, and watches you as he rolls the condom on himself. You’re absolutely gorgeous, better than he could have ever imagined.

"How do you want me, princess?” The nickname finally getting a new meaning.

"However you want it.”

"We are doing acrobatics then"

It startles a laugh out of you, and Joost thinks he might love that—the way he makes you laugh.

He takes off your pants together with the underwear, bends your leg, pushes it away from him, closer to you, which reveals your slick core to him.

“Gotta tell me how you want me, and fucking quick.” he groans, just the view of you makes him do mathematics in his head to stop from cumming on the spot.

"Missionary works me." you prop yourself on your elbows.

So he climbs onto you. He kneels between your legs, then pushes them apart obscenely wide. You stay propped up on your elbows, watching him, but when he settles between your thighs, you fall back against your pillow.

“Good?” he asks.

"You haven’t done much,” you point out. 

"Smart-ass.” He reaches down and grasps his cock at the base, and drags the tip through your folds. He coats himself in your arousal, feels the heat of your pussy even through the latex, then notches himself at your entrance. He looks down and pushes into you. He goes slow but steady, and he hears a small gasp fall from your lips.

He remembers the way you clung to him that night, and he wants to capture that feeling again.

He picks up a steady pace, holding your legs apart, kissing your neck. One of his hands makes its way to your clit again, you arch your back as he starts to draw circles around it.

He feels you clench around him. "Joost. I'm so close" you moan and he watches you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he hides his face in your neck, and releases himself into the condom.

You want to remember this forever. Him panting, moaning in your ear. He taps the side of your thigh, pulls out and throws out the condom. You watch him pull up his jeans and sit down at the desk again.

"Let's do this thing"

You and Joost are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. Max and Olivia join you.

"Look, both are still alive!" Max jokes.

"How did it go yesterday?" Olivia asks looking between the two of you.

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Wait." Max looks at you, then at Joost. "Did you two...?"

"No way!" Olivia gasps.

"Ok, shut up guys." Joost says

"You owe me 20 bucks" Max says to Olivia.

"Fuck!" Olivia exclaims

"You bet on us?"

"Last year!" Max takes the money from Olivia.

[phfenomena]

❝sleeping alone ❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- was listening to flatland cavalry and i couldn’t resist a short n sad fic abt billy bc i’m evil

| WARNINGS- a sad man who misses his girlfriend a verrrryyy small mention of death and war.

william h. bonney x reader angst? fluff?

as billy lays alone in the hostel bed he quickly begins to regret agreeing to jesse’s proposal of this job in lincoln county. he’s almost a days ride away from you and he has no idea if you’re okay. he can’t believe he used to sleep like this every night, no one to hold.

his mind wanders to the prayers his mother used to lay over him and joe, before everything turned sour in his life. he can’t remember the last time he prayed, feeling like no one’s listening. he doesn’t need a god when he has you, but he doesn’t have you right now.

he clasps his hands together just like he did all those years ago. “i haven’t done in this in quite some time, sorry if it’s not uniform prayer. i just want my girl to be okay without me, and for her to healthy and safe. oh! and for me not to get shot. amen.” he suddenly feels very stupid and confused as to why he thought his words into the empty air would assist him at all, but anything’s worth a shot. especially when it comes to his girl.

he rolls onto his side, just like he does every night with you. he holds a pillow to front pretending it was you instead a bag of feathers. he never realized how warm you were until he couldn’t feel your warmth at all. his eyes drift close and he falls asleep to memories of you.

eight hours away by horse, you lay alone in your shared bed with billy. only it’s not shared for a while, it’s just your bed. he’s working, he loves working! you thought trying to make yourself feel better about being by your lonesome. the bed feels like it’s miles long with just your body inhabiting it. you stare at the stationary sitting on your desk, illuminated poorly with one candle.

you write slowly and methodically to billy. he won’t be home for months so you figured you’d might as well start the letters. you write paragraphs upon paragraphs of how much you miss him, how much you love him, and how quiet the night is without his laughs filling the air. you trail off and start telling him about the town gossip you’ve heard but eventually get back on track. spraying your perfume over the pages and an invisible kiss by your signature, you fold it up and press the wax to seal it.

billy and jesse walk back in the saloon below the hostel’s doors. “oh! mr. billy you’ve got a letter! from a lady” the young boy wiggles his eyebrows and hands the letter to billy. he tries to fight the smile but jesse pats his back, rather hard but a kind gesture nonetheless. “the girl of yours is already sending letters after a day? you’ve got her wrapped around her finger.” billy shakes his head laughing. “that’s where you’re wrong, it’s the complete opposite.” he confesses and walks up the stairs to read your letter in private.

he instantly notices the scent of your perfume and all of the tension in his body melts away. he’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s reading but holds your letter to his chest after. he walks over to his own desk and begins his own letter to you, he might not see you for months but he’ll be damned if he can’t talk to his girl.

he consistently writes to you and letting you know what’s going on and how stressful things have gotten. you’re proud of him for switching to tunstall’s side because it was the right thing to do, you’ll always admire that about him. the worry for his well-being overtakes the admiration as you quickly gather your necessities and get dressed. you’re out the door and mounting your horse within the hour, riding to lincoln. you’d rather walk to hell and back than not see billy before he gets hurt.

you reach lincoln county much faster than you expected, maybe your horse sensed the desperation leaking from your pores. you ask a kind-eyed woman about tunstall and she directs you a few minutes north. you thank her make your way slowly to your destination. as your eyes focus on the beautiful country home in the dark, your heart flutters. you almost feel sick with how anxious you are, your eyes haven’t laid on billy in three months.

you quickly tie your horse to a fence post and rush towards the door, knocking rapidly. an unfamiliar man opens the door and smiles at you. “how can i help you, madam?” he speaks confidently with a british accent, this must be tunstall. “oh well, um, i was just wondering if billy was here?” he snaps his fingers and turns his head to yell for billy.

billy’s stomach dropped upon hearing his name being called, he’s thinking it might be jesse trying to pick a fight but when his eyes settle upon you his world stops. everything slows down but his heart speeds up to impossible levels. he smiles wide and laughs while running to you. his arms envelope you and you’re drowning in his scent, squeezing so hard he thought you might’ve bruised a rib. “what’re you doin’ here, doll? did you ride here alone? do you know how dangerous that is? have you ate? are you okay?” you giggle at his ambush of worried questions and put your hand over his mouth. tunstall walks away with a grin, never seeing billy so happy.

“yes i rode alone, yes i know the dangers, no i haven’t ate yet, and yes i am okay. i just couldn’t take the thought of you being so stressed with the possibility of getting hurt without me here. i also figured it was due time for a visit.” you mutter softly, never taking your eyes off him. drinking in the sights of the man you love with every fiber of your being.

he quickly ushers you inside and guides you to a main room. “gentleman, this is my girl.” he introduces you and you smile and manage a slight wave. “this the girl you’re always talking about and never shutting up about how pretty she is?” billy goes slightly red and opens his mouth up to talk before closing it. just nodding at the embarrassment. you smile up at him “you tell people how pretty you think i am? you’re so sweet! that’s adorable.” billy sighs and leads you to a seat at the table and fixing you a plate for dinner.

as you both lay together that night in the same bed, everything makes sense in the world. you understand war, they just want this feeling to be safe. your eyes begin to fill with tears as you’re just so relieved and happy to be with your love again.

“i was gettin’ real tired of sleeping alone. considered climbing into bed with charlie but i don’t think he’s as warm as you.” you laugh and gently slap his chest.

all is right in the world, because your world is filled with love.

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere with a unknown identity

A helping hand

Yandere policeman x F!reader Warning: Manipulation, mentions of not believing the victim. Summary: Right after your encounter with the masked man (This part), you head out and find yourself with an officer who strongly feels that he should be the one to help you.

The masked man had just left when it dawned on you what happened. Violated and angry you grab the money he left behind and hurry down to whatever garbage chute you could find. You had barely time to put your clothes on before you were out the door. It's late and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard. 

It's first when you step outside of the apartment building and the cold air hits you that you come to your senses. Today has been horrible and it seems that your bad luck is not over yet. Considering your options you come to the conclusion that you don't want to stay and the walk to one of your friends' apartments is not long. You sigh as you know you will have to tell her what happened. Something you don't initially want, but what other options do you really have? 

You dont walk for long before a police car spots you. You can imagine how odd you must look walking around with a stack of money and dressed in your pajamas. 

The two officers consist of a tall rather young man and a middle aged plump woman. With the lack of anything else to tell them, you explain what has happened to you. The unfiltered truth as to where you got the money from and why you are out on the streets dressed so poorly. Both the man and woman listen intently to your story and when you are done the woman says. 

“Okay, listen, we will solve this. I just have to make a call to the surrounding officers. But Kenny will keep an eye on you, understand?” The plump woman tells you before she returns to the car. Her face is turned away from the both of you as she talks into the comms. A minute goes by in silence. Then two. Then five and she is still talking. For every minute passing worry grows. 

Then around the corner speeds another police car in and stops on the other side of the road. A young blond man jumps out, his uniform looks slightly untidy as if he had just thrown them on. He gives a nod to Kenny before he heads for the woman in the car. They talk quietly for a moment before he walks up to the both of you. 

“I'll take over from here officer McCall.” I can't help but feel like Kenny is letting out a sigh of relief as he heads back to the car. Before they drive off the woman rolls down her window and tells you.  

“If you need more help, ask for Officer Reese.” You nod to her before they drive off. The man beside you lets out a sigh and nods in the direction that they drove off at.

“Some officers truly need more than just reprimands.” He says and shakes his head. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm going to be truly honest with you. Officer Reese had not so good intentions regarding how to handle your little…issue. But I won't go into detail about that.” He takes a deep breath before he places a hand on your shoulder and continues. “And the other officers won't help you either, I know how shallow they can be. But I want to help.” 

“Her, Officer Reese, she won't help me? I thought…” 

“She just said that to make you feel better. In reality she was talking about the loony bin over the comms.”

Your stomach turns at his words and you have to turn away, just to gather yourself. 

“But I will help.” He continues. 

“You would?” 

“Yes, but I think it's better if we keep it between us two, are you fine with that?” You nod and take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions together. 

“Good, how about I drive you back to your apartment and you tell me in detail everything that happened.” 

“I… I don't know if I want to be at home right now.” You say hesitantly. 

“Don't worry, honey. I'm patrolling these streets and I'll make sure no man gets even close to you.” He says and places his arm around you. “Aren't you cold? Come let's continue talking in the car.” He says as he leads you to his car. 

“Well, if you're helping, do you have any access to something that you could find fingerprints with?” 

“Eh, sure, but what are you going to use that for?” He asks as he leads you over the street. 

“For these, I thought maybe you could get his fingerprints, oh well, mine will be here too, but…” He laughs and carefully takes the money from you. 

“If you don't want to use it for yourself then sure I can have a look.” 

“Oh and by the way. I never caught your name.” 

“It's Robert, Officer Robert Finch.”

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Warnings: Pregnancy, Thoughts of abortion, Graphic birth, smut, Somnophilia, and kidnapping. Poorly translated German and Korean, if you know either, you can correct me nicely, please.

(I was given permission by the one and only @diejager, that I can write something inspired by her series of stepdad! könig and dbf!Neighbor Horangi. If you haven't read them which I doubt, go check her out, this was a little longer than I wished but I think once you start reading, you'll like it.) fanart, not mine

Erotic sounds of smacking skin echoed within your bedroom. Horangi's rough burned-like tiger scars rub against your cheek as he groans into your shoulder, "너무꽉. (So tight)" He grunted, "Gonna be such a good mama." his cock plunged into your soaked depths with abandonness as you wept, your body and breast jerked, this wasn't right.

This shouldn't feel so good, you shouldn't love the feeling of your stepdad's best friend thrusting into you, shouldn't like the sight of said stepdad watching from the side of the room on your vanity chair and touching himself, pumping his cock to the rhythm of his best friend and your neighbor thrusts.

You shouldn't at all.

"I'll be such a good dad to our child," Horagni growled, drilling you into the soft texture of bedsheets, his curved bulbous head bullied your cervix, and your legs rested on his shoulders as he leaned back, his head thrown back and sheathed in glistening sweat. The sight of a beautiful man, of a beast above you rushed your climax.

"씨발! (Fuck!) That's it, baby! Cum on your Neighbor's cock." He groaned as fastened his pace. "Ja. Cum, unser wunderschönes Mädchen. (our beautiful girl.)" König cooed, his thick digits rubbing that bud of nerves as he sat down on your bed beside your head, his other hand continued to jerk off of his big, fulsome, and lengthy cock.

The pleasured symphony of your ecstasies wasn't held back, ropes of König's seed painted your skin, and shot after shot of Horangi's semen overflowed your womanhood.

"It is my turn." Your stepfather grinned and pushed his friend away from you once he had pulled out to leave you leaking but not for long who simply chuckled at könig's rare playfulness. Horangi placed his dick on your lips, his usual honey-brown was dark brown as he looked upon you with a dark kinda of lust "Suck."

You wake up a couple of hours later, body in such gyp it was like pins and needles. Groaning you sat up from your bed, the room was empty, bare of the monsters that used and obsessed over you, their cum dried on your thighs and the rest was clean of the evidence of what existed. The walk to the bathroom that linked to your room left you to the mercy of your own thoughts. The very notion of abortion was quickly shot down, it was obvious that they had wished for you to bear one of their children, and the number of times cum stuffed into you was uncountable, and the fact that birth control wasn't always reliable was its own tissue so truly what would stop them if you did get one? Even in secret, they would find out sooner or later more akin to sooner being who they were.

The brightest of the ceiling light ached to your eyes for but a second and the insulting sight of your forgotten pregnancy teat was a big fuck you to whatever was up there. Your freedom was truly gone, taken away forever, your feelings, and wants be damned.

After a relaxing bath, you dry yourself and your hair. Changed into clean clothes that consisted of some black shorts, and a loose black T-shirt and you went downstairs. Laughter came from the living room as you walked into your kitchen, the want to dig your feelings deep in your food was strong and the laughing of your mother irritated you to no end, how can she be happy with that monster of a man? You rolled your eyes and finished making your snack "Oh honey!" your mother called out with a lovesick smile as she hung onto könig's arm like a puppy wanting the attention of its owner. "Yes Ma?" you asked, hiding the venomous bitr you sure would come out. "I heard you got good news for me." She giggled as König kissed her neck and you could see Horangi roll his eyes, It was not so stable but like always your mother didn't notice. "Where did you hear this?" you had a hunch "König and Horangi did. So what is it?" she asked you sighed and looked down. "I'm pregnant." you muttered, half-hoping she'd wouldn't hear it. "What?!" she inquired "You're pregnant baby? Who's the father?" she got up from her seat on the long couch and rushed to you, resting her hands on your shoulders.

"I am." Horangi's deep, accented voice answered one of her questions "Your daughter and I have been seeing each other in private." he declared as he wrapped an arm around your hip and pulled you into his side. "Isn't this wonderful, ja? You're gonna be an Oma (grandmother)" König smirked as he hugged your mother from behind, a smirk he shared with his friend. "I guess." she trailed off yet smiled reassuringly "I'll be here for you my sweet baby" she announced and pulled you into her comforting embrace, which did little to help as you saw the wicked glint in the eyes of the men before you.

You heard of the horrors of morning sickness, from your mother and online alike. You were sure that it would be the same tale yet it was the opposite, the only symptom was extreme nausea when you smelled eggs or your favorite breakfast even then that hardly led to throwing up. You were luckily still able to attend college but you feared not for long as Horangi and König continued to reason with your mother why you should stay home.

It took them an entire month to do so. How? If the screaming of ecstasy and filthy-worded grunts from an Austrian voice in your mom's room were to go by you knew exactly how, unfortunately. Your first appointment was spent with the one that birthed you and luckily without the father, whoever that is before she left on a business trip leaving you to the wolves. König decided that Horangi would stay with you both until she came back, almost every day you wake up from either the feeling of a skilled tongue lapping your love juices or a heaviness on your tongue or the eye-rolling, toe-curling feeling of a thick appendage sparing you open.

Today you woke up to none of those but a smell that didn't make you want to vomit no, it was mouthing watering.

It's a craving you haven't gotten sick of and one you want every morning. You throw on a shirt and a pair of panties and rush downstairs. "Morning 여자 아기 (Baby girl)." Horangi greeted you, lifting a cup of pure, bitter black coffee to his lips, his eyes closed as he took a sip. "Mornin'." you greeted back and sat down on the dining table, boredly watching as he began to read the newspaper as you waited for your breakfast. "Ah, Liebling. There you are." König smirked playfully and sat down your plate of food which you wasted no time in scarfing down. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as The men chuckle at the sight "So cute." Horangi smiled. "Ja. She is." König agreed and grinned, watching you mutter under your breath about them, and took a bite of his breakfast.

You all ate in silence, a..peaceful silence. After you finished your second helping, you up away your dish and stretched, joints pop from sitting to long, your hand coming to rest on your three-month baby bump. "How's my baby?" könig uttered into your hair, his beefy arms around your middle, pulling into his sturdy chest. "Or mine!" Horangi called out from the linked dining room. "Fine," you replied loud enough for both to hear, your form tensing up before relaxing in your stepdad's embrace. This has been going on for a while, their softness, playfulness, and sweetness, a part of you acknowledged that this could be a ploy but the scared part, the part that wanted comfort and love overpowered that sense, you began to find comfort in their company, you felt...safe in their arms. König and Horangi had business to do with so you would be left alone for the day for once in the whole months you have been with child.

You sat in your craved indoor window seat, your book laid on your thighs. You tried and failed to distract yourself from all the new and old feelings. You just can't love them, they hurt you, used you, mean to you then they're loving, caring for your needs, and soft to you. You were so lost that nothing could help but sleep so that's just what you do.

You nervously tapped your fingers on the plastic armrest of the chair in the clinic as you impatiently waited to be called back. "Nervous?" your stepdad asked, grasping your hand in his large one, making your hand look like that of a kid. "Very." you chuckled humorlessly, and Horangi's hand grabbed your other hand. "It will be okay, we're here." His deep voice, sent a wave of comfort within, tooking a deep breath you calmed yourself.

"Ms. Schäfer?" the male nurse called out and looked up from his clipboard, he immediately took a small step back as the two men stood with you and walked to him. "M-ms. Schäfer and?" the poor nurse stuttered as his eyes shifted to the masked gigantic mammoth of a man and his smaller masked companion. "Boyfriend," Horangi spoke up before könig. "Stepfather," König answered not bothering to hide his amusement at the squirming male nurse. Sadist.

"Umm, right this way." the nurse hesitated to his back on two veterans and led you to the room where the doctor would see you. You glanced back at them with a small glare, knowing they intimidated the man on purpose, and sighed as they showed no remorse then again what did you expect? The walk was short, the nurse dipped the moment you entered since you were the last one in, and on top of that, you already began to show a little waddle in your step even just being four months along. With a little help from König you sat on the ultrasound bed as Horangi took the closer chair to your left, the doctor in question wasn't a minute late. "Good day! How are you today Ms. Schäfer?" Dr. Patel smiled, shutting the door behind behind him. "Good doc. curious about the gender of my baby." you smiled back, and shook his hand, completely missing the look that both the men you came with shared. "Well, we'll get right to that. If you'd be so kind as to lift your shirt," he said and busied himself with turning on the ultrasound equipment.

You yelped as the cold gal graced your belly, the noise instantly made Horangi and König tense, and their overprotectiveness almost an appearance. "Mr. Kim, would you turn the lights off?" The doctor requested, grabbing the transducer. Wordless Horangi got up from his seat beside König and turned off the lights. Suddenly the projector on the ceiling turned on and shined on the blank wall before you, a picture of black and white filled the wall soon after the transducer touched your baby bump and there was a baby...another baby across from the first.

"Congratulations Ms. Schäfer! You're having twin.." the Doctor trailed off "Boys!" he exclaimed as he turned off the machine and got up, "I'll go get the ultrasound pictures while you let everything sit in." Dr. Patel shut the door to giving you privacy.

The drive home was silent as well as the rest of the day, each one of you, stuck in your heads. In the weeks after Horangi and König were frequently busy, and each time you asked why they simply glared at you or scoffed and ignored you, it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

The loneliness didn't last longer, your mom was finally back. She barely got out of the car as you were waddling as fast as you could, you had no doubt you looked like a penguin running for its life. "Oh, Baby." your mother cooed as she hugged you, "You've gotten so big!" she smiled, "How's my grandbaby?" she asked as she walked with you to the steps of your house. "The boys are good." you smiled softly, waiting for the realization to show on her face. "Y-you're having twins?" She stuttered, coming to a stop in the doorframe, her eyes wide with shock. "Ja, two strong boys," König answered her, walking out of the kitchen and kissing her with a fiery kiss that he had saved for you, not anymore. You just walked away, they didn't seem to notice as they began to make out in front of you, forcing the painful ache down, and you decided to hide in your room to lick at your wounds.

The next few months were neither good nor bad, you and your mom collected, baby clothes, toys, and everything the twins would need or want. König continued his blunt affection for the woman who birthed you and Horangi has yet to come back around, seeming too busy to see his possible baby mama. Isn't this what you wanted right? To no longer deal with their abuse, their twisted sense of love, if that was what they called love yet it pained more than you thought, and you became envious of your mother, you missed könig kisses, his big body against yours, to feel all of him, and with Horangi it was no better. Were you truly to be a single mother?

You awoke from your nap, panting and in pain, as a puddle of wetness soaked your thighs and the sheets below. You throw off your blanket and scream, your water has broken, they are coming now. The door was ripped open by your mom, your stepdad right behind her, through the words they spoke sounded like you were underwater, and you suddenly hosted into König's arms as he walked out of the room and sat you down in the back seat. The last thing you saw before passing out, the pains of your contractions too much for you to handle as your mother on the phone with Horangi.

A sobbing scream pierced the delivery room as sweat covered your clammy skin. "Miss, Push!" the Doctor yelled above your screams. Gritting your teeth. you pushed and grabbed onto the railing bars beside you. "I can't." you sobbed, throwing your head onto the pillow behind you. "No, baby you can do it. Come on push." your mother moved your drenched hair off your forehead. "Push,애인. (sweetheart)" Horangi encouraged and took one of your hands and kissed it. Their support helped to give you the strength to continue, so you took a deep breath in and pushed once again. "That's it! He's crowning!" the doctor spoke, you groaned as you pushed with all you got. A numb relief spread through you as a small but strong cry of your baby boy echoed but the relief didn't last long as another contraction hit you. The doctor quickly handed your firstborn to the nurse to her right before getting back into position.

With a few more pushes your second-born was welcomed into the world.

"You did good, Liebe. (love)" König finally spoke since you all entered the room, his large hand resting beside yours on the bar. Too tired to reply, you instead gave him a tiny smile. "Ms. Schäfer, meet your first baby boy." Dr. Smith smiled and laid your baby on your chest. He was so.. beautiful, tears welded in the corner of your eyes, his hair was jet black, that stood up a bit from being dried of the liquids he was born into, his little eyes open a bit, enough to see the honey brown color, his soft skin was like yours, it was no doubt who's the father. "What's his name?" your mother asked, watching the scene with awe. "Baek-hyeon," Horangi spoke with proudness that you never heard, his glazed locked upon you and his son, love and happiness apparent in his brown eyes. You handed Beak-Hyeon to his father as you made space for his twin, the room was so quiet that you could hear a pen drop, the nurse laid him onto your chest, he was a bit more on the chubbier side than his brother...and his hair was a nice shade of ginger, his eyes a bright blue, he was the spitting image of your stepfather. A fearful daunting feeling lingered inside as you turned to your mother, no emotions were on her face, and no words were said as she rushed out of the room, König following her.

"What's his name?" a brave nurse softly asked. "Gunther."

Your mother didn't visit you after that, the only people who did was that of your baby daddies, mostly Horangi than könig. You were gonna get discharged and you feared what your home life would be like until your mother got you and the twins before the set date.

"Mom..I'm sorry. I-" you started once you all got into her car.

"Don't. I didn't believe you and I'm so sorry you suffered." She looked at you, regret and love in her eyes. "Thank you." you whispered and pulled her in a hug,"I forgive you."

"So where are we heading." you smiled softly as you pulled away. "A friend's house, one könig doesn't know about. I'm here now." she turned on the car and started the long journey there. The twins weren't that much of a hassle, eventually, you had to get in the back seat with them, feeding them wasn't hard since the nurses were a great help. The house was big, a three-story with four rooms and three bathrooms, you got the biggest guest room which you couldn't be more grateful for.

Life was great, or it was supposed to feel that way. You knew you should hate the men who took advantage of you, who bred you, who had abused you yet you couldn't find it in yourself too..you fell in love with them, you missed them, and It didn't help that their sons looked so much alike to them, it hurt to look at Baek-hyeon and Gunther despite this you loved them more than anything and you wouldn't trade them for the world.

Baek-hyeon was more vocal than his little brother, he smiled a cute gummy smile at anyone or anything with a pulse, and he adored being held. Gunther only smiled at you or his toys, he was a lot more attached to you and would get fussy if anyone but you tried to hold him, a true mama's boy. Your mother decided for you to file for custody over Horangj and König, and it seemed you were winning, you didn't want that but you had no say, she'd think you were crazy.

Moaning you stirred awake, a thickness pounded into your cunt, a familiar firm grip on your hips. You moan loudly as the person thrusted particularly hard "Wake up, Prinzessin." König's warm breath rolled across your skin, one of his hands grabbed your jaw and turned you to look into his pale blues. "König?" you asked still dazed of sleepiness. "That's right. Daddy's back." he cooed, rolling his hips, his wet pubes brushing against your rubbed raw clit. You moaned and pulled the giant into a kiss, all the feeling you felt toward him poured into it, and his kiss was just as passionate.

His thrusting never once stopped, his strong arms wrapped you into an embrace as he drove his cock deeper within your wet pussy. So lost in the pleasure that you almost didn't feel the bed drip and a hand weaves its way into your hair. "여자 아기.(babygirl)." Horangi groaned, "Missed you." he confessed and kissed you, his tongue swirling around yours, his lips dancing with your own, the kiss became hot, and messy, and drool slowly trailed down your locked lips. He pulled away, his sacred chest heaving as he wiped his chin clean of your shared saliva.

König grinned naughtily as he watched his stepdaughter and beat friend make out like it was just them, he couldn't have that. Taking your legs he held them flat against his broad chest and snapped his wide hips, hitting your cervix just right making your toes curl. "Fuck!" you cried out as könig did this a few more times, you moaned, whined, and mewled all night as the two ex-military men showed you how much the missed you.

You came to find out that the whole time they ignored you was because they were building a home for you and their sons.

Building a big, happy family.

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [4]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: dudes i have so many chapters pre-written! be ready for consistency (lol)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma let me know if you'd like to added!

Tonight was the night. 

You’re sure of it.

The decision was made pretty clear to you that night at the arcade. Just two days ago, Sukuna had finalized what you’d feared to be true—he didn’t care about you anymore. And honestly, maybe he never had. 

You’re not sure.

You don’t know what would possess him to date you in the first place if he was never interested in you, but you also don’t understand how, regardless of how he felt, a person could be so cruel to another. You don’t think you’re perfect, of course you aren’t but you don’t think you deserved any of the crap you put up with because of him. 

You should’ve realized it the second you caught him cheating—no, you should’ve realized sooner. All those months spent walking around him like you were on eggshells, afraid that the slightest action would make him react poorly to you. All the times he’d let his friends be cruel to you without saying a word to defend you. All the times he’d ditched you for someone else.

Him cheating on you was just the cherry on top.

You’d been silly to think you’d be able to make him like you again.

You’d been silly to think he even deserved a second chance in the first place. 

It wasn’t about you being good enough or not–it wasn’t about being clingy or undesirable or anything of the sort. You deserved better. And you refused to let him walk all over you any longer.

Because when you think about Gojo’s soft hands on you and the way he’d teased you and yet there had been no malice behind it, you’re warmed at the thought of a guy being so charming to you.

Because when you think about Geto’s concerned eyes and the way he’d given you his hoodie and walked you home, you’re eased at the thought of a guy being so gentle to you.

Sure, it’s maybe a little silly and sure, neither of them probably meant anything by it — nonetheless, though, their actions are sweet and kind and reassuring to you that you don’t need to put up with some guy who can’t even break up with you properly if he doesn’t like you.

And it’s that that stills your nerves the second you reach Sukuna’s apartment door.

You think of when Geto had dropped you off at home, the both of you slowing to a stop just outside your front door.

“This is me.”

Geto nods, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he lets his eyes wander across your house before settling back on you. “Cute,” he smiles teasingly. Your cheeks warm at his words, looking back at your tiny little house that you share with your parents; you weren’t a very wealthy family but the three of you made it work and truthfully, it was enough for you.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head. You move to cross your arms over your chest, before you remember you’re still wearing his sweater.

The decision that comes to your mind's made in a split second.

“Would you like to come in?”

Geto pauses, eyes widening in disbelief as he glances over at you.

“I-I mean…” You stammer, the realization of what you’d just asked and how it came out sinking in as you mentally curse yourself for being so utterly stupid. “I mean… I can wash your hoodie for you and then you don’t have to wait until Monday?” Then, another thought occurs to you. “U-Unless you have so-something to do and don’t have the time which then, I totally–”

“Sure.”

You’re left with your hands in front of you, frantic like you tend to get when you’re nervous, blinking over at Geto as he nods. He takes a step forward and then walks past you, calling over his shoulder; “are your parents home?”

Snapping yourself out of your stupor, you spin to face him, racing past him and up the steps of your front porch while reaching for your keys. “No,” you answer somewhat shakily. “My mom usually stays late at her job and my dad works two weeks on and then seven days off so I don’t see him until his week off.”

Lips parting, Geto calls out a hum of understanding just as you unlock your door, stepping in before opening the door wider for him to step in after. You meet his eyes briefly before closing the door behind him, offering him a pair of slippers to swap out for his shoes and taking a moment to watch as he wanders into the living room, eyes glancing curiously.

“Did-Did you want anything to drink?” You ask, slipping off your own shoes before sliding your feet into your pink slippers.

“No,” he calls back, voice somewhat distant.

You nod even though he can’t see you, calling over your shoulder that you’re going to change, quickly shower and put his hoodie in the wash right away. Geto hums out in response and then you’re making your way down the hall, opening the door to your room. You pause just briefly, glancing over your shoulders at the door before shutting it behind you with a soft click. You make sure to be quick, not wanting to waste Geto’s time, unzipping his hoodie and sitting it against your bed before taking off your blouse and letting that fall to the floor. You grab a baggy t-shirt from your dresser and make your way to the bathroom connected to your room.

Your shower is quick–you mainly just want to get all the sticky residue from the soda off of you. The second you’re done, you step out, drying yourself off before slipping back on the skirt you’d been wearing before, along with your underwear and bra and then draping the baggy shirt over yourself.

You take your towel, your blouse and Geto’s hoodie and step out of your room, making your way further down at the hall before entering the final room on the right. You start the load right away, ignoring the nerves that bubble up in your chest as you finally make your way back to the living room/kitchen.

“The wash should only take forty minutes and then I’ll dry it right after so you don’t—”

You pause the second you see Geto standing against the far wall of the living room, a picture frame in his hands.

Glancing over your shoulder, Geto grins; “you were an adorable little girl.”

Face hot, you scramble, crossing the distance between the both of you and frantically yanking the photo from his hands. Geto lets you with a simple laugh, it grows in volume the second you hug the photo to your chest, turning away from him.

“It’s not that embarrassing.”

“Yes it is,” you pout up at him. “My parents insist on keeping this stupid photo even though I look horrendous.”

Geto just shakes his head. “You look cute. Especially with your little pig-tails.”

Glowering at him, you huff; “shut it. I’d like to see a photo of you when you were younger and see how fashionable you were then.”

“Okay,” Geto shrugs. “I’ll show you someday.”

It’s not the response you’re expecting. Not at all. Stunned, you turn to face him, lips parting as he smiles down at you warmly. The expression on his face is clear – he means it.

“O-oh, well—”

You’re cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jumping, you spin around only to see your mom making her way in, the frame still clutched tightly against your chest as you freeze, Geto doing the same behind you—both of you oddly feeling embarrassed like you’d been caught doing something embarrassing when all you’d been doing is talking.

Geto’s cheeks are pink as he pushes his face into his shirt, trying to hide.

“M-mom!”

Blinking, your mom pauses by the door, meeting your eyes before glancing back at Geto who stands behind you. She blinks once or twice more before she smiles, somewhat nervously; “honey, who’s this?”

You remember then your mom doesn’t know who Geto is and you didn't tell her you were bringing someone over.

“O-oh,” you stutter, mind racing as you glance back at Geto who meets your gaze back. “This is—”

“Geto Suguru,” Geto answers for you, stepping past you swiftly to offer a hand to your mother. She seems surprised at first but her features ease into a warm smile, eyes shining as she shakes Geto’s hand in response. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Damn. you didn’t know Geto could be that smooth.

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” your mother beams. “Are you a friend of my daughters? I assumed that she’d still be out on her date.”

Tensing, a flash of Sukuna laughing at you comes to mind.

That’s right… you’d forgotten in the midst of everything with Geto.

“It was more like a hangout with friends,” Geto explains swiftly. “I offered to walk her home. That’s all.”

Your mother takes the explanation with ease. “Oh. What a gentleman!”

Geto just laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. You watch as the bun he normally holds his longer hair in loosens somewhat and for a brief moment, you have a burning desire to see it loose around his shoulders.

You blink yourself out of that thought quick.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Suguru? I’m making some miso soup for dinner.”

“No that’s okay,” Geto brushes off gently. “I should really be heading home.”

Finally finding the courage to speak up, you rush forward; “but your hoodie!”

Your mother just glances at you confused but Geto shakes his head, smiling at you; “just give it to me on Monday,” he waves your concern away, moving to put back on his shoes. The second they’re on, he turns to your mother; “it was lovely to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N.” Then, his eyes fall on you and you freeze, confused by how piercing his gaze is. “I’ll see you Monday.”

You nod, numbly, and then he’s opening the door, offering one more wave before making his way out.

And you stand there for a moment longer, confused by the racing of your heart.

“Well,” your mother sings with a knowing look. “He was certainly handsome, wasn’t he?”

It was only Sunday, so you haven’t returned his hoodie to him yet… oddly, you found yourself excited.

A buzz pulls you from your thoughts and you come to the startling realization that you’ve been standing in front of Sukuna’s door, practically daydreaming about Geto. Slapping your cheeks lightly, you shake your body, pulling your phone from your pocket, smiling when you see it’s a text from Shoko.

Of course, you’d called her yesterday telling her what you planned on doing and she’d been more than ecstatic — given that this is something she’s been waiting for since when you and Sukuna practically started dating, you knew she had to be the first one you told. She’d expressed how proud she was of you and how she expected to hear every little detail Monday.

She was just texting you to wish you luck; 

hope you make him cry :))) he deserves it!

Then, following that, she texts; 

seriously tho, good luck. call me if he’s mean and ill come beat him up

Laughing softly to yourself, you’re quick to reply with a thanks and a joke about making him cry in return. Once it’s sent, you move to put your phone away, figuring you should actually get on with it instead of just standing out here like a freak — it would be the worst if he opened the door and caught you.

But, just as you move to turn your phone off, another text buzzes in.

And it’s not Shoko.

It’s Gojo.

What’re you doing?? 

Brows furrowing, you step back, moving so you’re not so obnoxiously in front of his door and move to reply.

About to break up with my boyfriend

Well, might as well be honest.

Why?

Gojo’s reply comes a second later.

Oh??? 0_0

Biting your lip, you snort.

Yup. 

Did you need something?

This time, his reply takes a bit longer. Your brows furrow when you see the speech bubble pop up and disappear a few time before finally, his message comes through; 

Nope! Good luck :P

Well… that was odd.

Thanks?

Gojo doesn’t reply after that. A few more minutes of waiting and you realize he’s moved on, you finally pocket your phone once again, eyes turning towards the door to Sukuna’s apartment. It was now or never–no more stalling or daydreaming… you needed to do this.

Taking one sharp inhale, you knock against the door. A few seconds pass and you hear footsteps approaching, and you expect it to be his little brother that opens the door (since it usually was), but to your surprise, it’s Sukuna.

His eyes narrow when he sees it’s you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks gruffly, and you take in the fact that he’s shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Fuck… you forgot that how attractive he was.

No! Focus Y/N! Focus!

Shaking your head, you meet his gaze head on. “Is anyone home?”

Confused, Sukuna just raises a brow. “No? The idiots out with his friends.”

“Perfect,” you smile, stepping in without giving him the chance to argue otherwise. Your name leaves his lips in annoyance but you just ignore him, forcing yourself past him and moving so you’re standing in the living room, facing him with a small smile.

Huffing, Sukuna shuts the door with a somewhat aggressive slam before coming to stand in front of you.

“So?” He growls, “what is it?”

Straightening your back, you meet his eyes. “We’re over.”

There’s a beat of silence, it lasts for a second, then another, before a mocking laugh bubbles from Sukuna’s throat. “What?”

Stealing your nerves, you nod. “I’m breaking up with you,” you explain, voice tight. “I thought it would be right for me to do it in person rather than over text.”

The amusement fades from Sukuna’s face and he genuinely looks shocked when he realizes you’re serious; “you’re… actually breaking up with me?”

“Yes,” you assure, taking extra care to keep your arms next to you and not hug yourself out of comfort. You’re nervous, you’re positive you’re shaking, but you focus on making your voice as even and confident as possible. “That was all I wanted to say. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ll be going now.”

And you move to leave, but his hand wraps around your upper arm, halting your movements. His grip is tight, fingers pinching into your skin and you freeze.

“You must be joking,” he practically growls, and your eyes fall on him in surprise. “There’s no way you’re actually trying to break up with me right now.”

Swallowing thickly, you try to pull your arm out of his grip to no avail. “Yes, I am.”

His grip tightens, turning painful and a cry leaves your lips. The shock quickly twists into fear and you stare at Sukuna in disbelief. 

“You? Break up with me?”

“Yes,” you ground out, trying to ignore the fear. “Now. Let go.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Sukuna shifts and then his free hand is grabbing your other arm and he’s pushing you back, forcing you to stumble backwards as you try not to stumble over your own feet.

“Sukuna! Let go!”

“No. Shut up and listen.” He growls, and the harshness of his tone surprises you, body freezing as his grip tightens further–you’re sure there’s going to be bruises there tomorrow. “You don’t get to break up with me. Not you.”

“What-What are you even talking about?” You gasp, confused, baffled and worst of all, afraid. You thought you’d been so brave coming in here and breaking up with him. You thought you’d finally decided to stop letting him walk all over you and yet, here you are, terrified and stumbling over your words. “D-Don’t you hate me? Why… Why else would you kiss Mei Mei?”

And Sukuna freezes, body stilling as his eyes zone in on you. “You saw that?”

“I-I…” Forcing yourself to calm down, you nod; “I did.”

Sukuna laughs at that. “And you still ate lunch with me? You still decided to go on that date with me?”

Bewildered, you shake your head. “I was—”

“Why break up now?” He cuts in, leaning close. “What’s changed?”

He squeezes your arms when you don’t answer right away and you yelp.

“What’s changed?”

“I-I… I don’t want to be with you anymore!” The words tumble from your lips, quick and scared and without thought and yet, it’s the complete truth that comes pouring from you. “I’m tired of feeling like nothing because of you!”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything at first. His grip never wavers but he just stands there, staring at you, all whilst you try to pull yourself away. Then, just as his lips part, the sound of his name being called pulls both of your guys’ attention away from each other and on Yuji, his little brother, who stands by the door with his two friends, a boy and a girl that you’ve seen once or twice around the house the few times you’ve been over.

All three of them are looking at you both in surprise, but Yuji looks the most upset, a disturbed look on his face as his eyes settle in on the bruising grip Sukuna holds on your arm.

He loosens his grip a second later and you’re quick to take that chance to pull away, stumbling from him, meeting Sukuna’s eyes before focusing back on Yuji. You move quick, without thought, avoiding everyone's gaze as you straighten yourself out, rushing past Sukuna and towards the door where Yuji and his friends quickly move out of your way. Yuji looks like he wants to say something, reaching out for you in concern, but stops himself.

Just as you’re about to step out, you turn back to Sukuna.

“I meant it,” you force out, gripping the door tight to steady yourself. “We’re through.”

And the door falls shut behind you, your feet moving rapidly to get away and get home as fast as possible.

The second you are gone, Sukuna sends one sharp look at his brother before making his way to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and slamming his fist right into the wall next to it.

[stxrrwritess]

who you belong to.

( art not mine )

monty gator x reader smut

MINORS DNI !!

warnings : afab!reader, jealous sex, rough sex, slight degradation ( use of whore, slut ), size difference (?), oral ( fem receiving ), poorly written smut LOL

word count : 807

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the mechanic, your job basically consisted of being friendly with all of the glamrocks. You’d figured it was easier to get to know them rather than just barge in and start working on their wires. Over time, you’d developed an .. interesting relationship with none other than Montgomery Gator, the most aggressive of the four animatronics. On this particular day, you had to tend to Freddy a little more than the others, mainly because of a glitch he had during a performance which resulted in a freak out of the children and quite a few adults.

After you had finished up in Freddy’s green room, you said goodbye and left, only to find Monty leaning on the wall, arms crossed and a not-so pleasant expression on his face. “Oh, hey Monty. You okay? Vanessa told me you didn’t need a check up today so I-,” before you could finish, you were yanked rather harshly by the forearm towards the Gator’s green room. “H-Hey! Monty, what’s going on?” You asked, skeptical on why he was acting so strange. You two had been fucking, sure. But you’d never have thought he’d be so annoyed that you were just doing your job. “Shut it, whore.” He grumbled under his breath, opening the door to his room and throwing you onto his mangled up couch. “Too fuckin’ busy to come in an’ even say ‘hello’? Too caught up with Fazbear?” He asked, as he moved to rip your work shirt off, causing your tits to pop out. “No, Monty, He had a glitch today. You saw it.” You protested, but you couldn’t deny that seeing this jealous side of him was.. oddly hot.

“I’m gonna remind ya who ya belong to.” He spoke, discarding of your pants and your panties, revealing your wet snatch to him. His large hands traveled over your body, stopping to grope your boobs and a small whine escaped your lips. After a few moments, he stopped and pried your legs open. Leaning down, he ran a wet stripe up your heat, eliciting a low moan from you. He teased your clit, before you hit his forearm that was holding your thigh gently. “Stop teasing, Montgomery!” You complained, before he finally stuck his strangely long tongue into you, eating you out like he hadn’t eaten in days. You threw your head back in ecstasy, your hand gripping his red mohawk. “M-Monty, Fuck-“ You gasped as soft moans and whines emitted from you. When he sensed you were getting close to the edge, he pulled away. You opened your mouth to give out to him, but he interrupted you. “You ain’t cummin’ unless it’s on my fuckin’ cock.” He growled, picking you up harshly and moving to his vanity, bending you over, your tits flush against the table. You glanced up at yourself, your forehead was glistened with sweat and your cheeks flushed.

Monty wasted no time in discarding his pants, as he pushed the tip of his dick past your gummy walls. No matter how many times you two fucked, his size always surprised you. “T-Too big..” You murmured under your breath, looking up at him in the mirror with pleading eyes. “Take it, slut.” He grunted and with one sharp thrust, he bottomed out in you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you inhaled sharply, feeling his dick fill you up so nicely. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, as he started thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, yanking your hair back to make you look at yourself in the mirror. “Tell me, who’s fuckin’ ya? Who’s makin’ ya feel this good, huh?” He gave a rougher thrust at the end of his sentence to emphasize his point. “Y-You, you are, fuck!” You rasped, “I got a name, use it. Tell me who ya belong to.” He groaned, feeling you clench around him like a vice. “Monty, you, please just - don’t fucking stop!” You begged, your hands gripping onto his vanity as you felt your knees begin to buckle. “Hnngh- I’m, fuck, Y/N. I’m gettin’ close..” He removed his hand from your hair and placed both of his hands on your hips, holding onto them with bruising force. It didn’t take long for you to cum around him, considering he had edged you before this. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your vision going blurry for a few seconds. Monty followed a few moments later, painting your insides white with a grunt. He pulled out, and moved to scoop you up into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Uh.. Shit. Sorry if I went too hard on ya.. It’s jus’, ya know how I get ‘bout Fazbear.” He chuckled sheepishly, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You should get him jealous more often, if this is the outcome.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a/n

hope you enjoyed x3 honestly idk how to write smut that well, i just let my hands do the typing while i zone out for a solid 20 minutes. if there’s anything i can improve on do let me know ! ( i’m def super repetitive in the way that i write but oh well )

[hopeluna]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ — 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝑂𝑌 𝐼𝑆 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸 (𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆'𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏)

✘ Part of the writing event by @carolmunson ! You can find the prompts n dialogue here, pls feel free to join in and write your own version <3

✘ the scene: a romantic night-in at the trailer. 

✘ CW: eddie munsson x fem!reader, very much rom com vibes cause come on it's me, first time writing for eddie pray for me, was tryna do fluff but turned into hurt/comfort, mentions of financial insecurity, eddie being the best bf material out there. 1k

The trailer door creaks on it's hinges like it's going to fall off any moment. It hardly registers in Eddie's brain, pulling the door more forcefully open with a beaming grin to let you in.

He's practically vibrating from the pent up anticipation. It's been a few days since you both have properly spent any time with each other. Between you being busy with college and him playing to a steadily growing crowd at The Hideout, the past few days consisted only of short kisses and exchanging i love you's in passing.

Eddie didn't really wanna pester you much either. Even though he missed you these days like a starved man, the relationship was fairly new and blooming and he didn't have the heart to somehow accidentally mess it up right from the get go.

"What brings you to the freak's humble abode, my fair lady?"

He gives you a toothy grin when he sees you telling him to silently shut up. You weren't a huge fan of the 'freak' title. "I come with gifts!", you hold up the small pastel paper box like a medal.

Eddie lets out a low whistle, with a whisper of 'gimme', making animated grabby hands till you place the box delicately in his outstretched hands. He immediately digs in with hurried but careful hands, cautious to not damage the paper cause he knows you probably took hours to get it just right.

A soft smile pulls his lips up at the small pastries. It looks absolutely delectable. Whispy vanilla frosting coated all over the soft sponge, the scent of vanilla bean hitting his nose, little flecks of edible glitter and sprinkles all tied with a plump strawberry at the top.

"You made these?"

"Mhm! We did chocolate last week and red velvet the week before that, so I thought we could go for a classic vanil-"

Giggles fill the quiet space of the trailer, Eddie placing light, ticklish kisses all over your lips. His grin only stretches more when you shriek his name to let you go, "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem!"

"Oh yeah, sweetheart? And what is that problem?"

"I will-" you push Eddie away enough so that only your noses are touching "- revoke your kiss license." You let out a soft snort at your boyfriend's devastated expression.

"You wouldn't!"

"I would, baby."

Eddie's huffing away with a quiet 'meanie' as you shake your head fondly at him, nudging him silently to open the pastries. He carefully sets two out, putting the others in the freezer for Wayne when you come back from the kitchen with two chipped mugs. Eddie's heart falls a little at the thought of you maybe judging him for this.

"Eddie."

"Mhm?"

You roll your eyes with a smile, "don't just stand there, open the damn thing!" You nudge the poorly made cat themed mug in his hands- his favourite. You watch with wrung fingers as he practically balances more than half the dessert on the fork to shove in his mouth, leaving flecks of whipped cream and frosting on the corners of his mouth.

"It's so....sweet."

You wince without meaning to, "and you like that?"

Eddie lets out a amused laugh at your anxiety ridden face. "Baby, that's probably the second best damn thing i've tasted." He shines a gleaming smile on you at your own grin of accomplishment.

"What's the first?"

"You." Eddie's loud laugh fills the silence at your disgusted but flustered expression.

His face falters a little when you shove the throw pillow on the couch behind you to get comfortable. Eyes follow your hands as you tighten your grip on your own mug, the handle chipped away from wear. Eddie's gaze flits around the trailer- the old video player, the less than impressive flooring, the comfy but worn out looking blanket that you've draped over yourself. It's definitely not the white picket fenced dream most want. He feels comfortable here but do you? Maybe you sometimes wished to hang out somewhere els-

"Hey."

Eddie snaps his gaze over to you, expression nervous and concerned. "Um- yeah." Clearing his throat, he shifts a little forward to pick his notebook from the table, mindlessly going through it in an effort to seem busy.

"I-uh, i ran out of like, nice cups,-" he briefly gestures to the one in your hand, "-is that okay?"

He would've found your furrowed, confused expression cute if it wasn't for the small ball of anxiety etched in his throat. "Yeah- i mean, of course it's okay." You look back at the cup in your hand, then to him and back at the cup again. "Are you okay?"

The curls on his head seem to bounce a bit as he nods frantically, twisting the cover of the notebook in his hand "it's just, you know, that thing isn't the nicest " he gestures vaguely with his hand around you, "i mean-none of this is-"

"Eddie."

"The place isn't the most romant-"

"Eddie." His eyes go from looking around in the trailer to you, you who inched closer to him without him realizing. "I like- I love the trailer."

"But-"

"No, don't be like that. That's not even true. Just because it's not a house with a big front yard and white roofs doesn't mean it's nothing. It's home." You smile as Eddie's eyes widen almost unnoticeably as you cup his face in your hands.

"It's home because it has you in it. And I wouldn't change that for anything."

A breathy chuckle escapes you, Eddie now burying his face in your chest with arms snaked around your waist firmly. His voice is muffled against your shirt that you have to strain to hear what he says, "sometimes, I feel like you being my girlfriend is a very detailed fever dream."

You feel his smile against you as you press a kiss on the top of his head. The silence stretches for a while before you break it, fingers making mindless circles on his back.

"I also come here for the trailer park cats."

The gasp Eddie lets out, finally releasing you from his hold, makes it hard for you to not burst out ugly laughing.

"You would choose the cats over me?!"

"Maybe."

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[cherienymphe]

Love Bites III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.

~

Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.

As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.

You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.

It would’ve been a mark of love.

Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.

Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.

A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.

It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.

You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.

With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.

“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”

The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.

“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.

“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”

You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”

At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.

“Are you excited? One year older…”

While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.

How funny that he had met his end before you.

“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.

There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.

It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.

This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.

There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.

“We’re almost late because of you.”

Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.

“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.

“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.

At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.

“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.

It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.

“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”

You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.

You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“I haven’t-.”

“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”

Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.

“I’m not,” you forced out.

Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.

“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.

“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”

You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.

“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.

You were just the first to last this long.

Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.

You felt like you were in hell.

…and the devil himself was fast approaching.

The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.

“Y/N, you remember Jane.”

Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.

“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.

“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.

She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.

“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.

Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.

“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.

You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.

“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”

Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.

“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.

Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”

She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.

“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”

The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.

“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”

She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.

“…what?”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.

“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”

The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.

“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”

You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.

“Steve is quite taken with you.”

That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.

“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.

“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.

Deep down, you hoped that it was less.

Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.

“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”

You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.

“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”

Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.

“For now.”

Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.

“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…

That you understood.

You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?

Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.

There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.

No.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?

Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.

There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?

You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”

Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.

You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.

You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.

“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”

“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”

Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.

“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”

Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.

“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.

You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.

“Had you eaten?”

“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.

“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.

There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.

“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”

“Well…I’m not, so…”

“You scared me.”

“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”

The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.

“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”

You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.

“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”

You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.

You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.

…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…

You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.

Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.

The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.

Today, however…

Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.

You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.

Nothing about this day was actually for you.

Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.

You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.

It made you sick.

“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”

“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.

She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.

“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”

The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.

“So young…so terrified…”

She hummed, continuing with her work.

You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.

An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.

When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.

“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”

Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.

Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.

Natasha was right, of course.

Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.

He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.

You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…

With Peter not around to soften the blow…

When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”

You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.

“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”

“Didn’t it stop me already?”

You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”

You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.

My love?

You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.

“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”

You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.

The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.

This was a necklace bought with intention.

You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.

You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.

“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”

You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.

“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”

“Steve…”

“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”

Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.

“As my wife…my eternal lover…my consort.”

~

tags:@xoxabs88xox  @mcudarklibrary @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  @notyourtypicalrose @sebabestianstan101 @opheliadawnwalker3 @pinkzsugar @villanellevi @cheeseburgersstuff @navybrat817 @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines

 @nightsinneverland @alexakeyloveloki @grayxswan  @undecidedsworld @fanfic-fangirl @peach-buns-unicorns @vicmc624 @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @weird-mumbling @outlawedmando @izzfizzh @spideydobik @everything-isawesomesauce @donutloverxo @wondergal2001  @rosalynshields @mandiiblanche @stinkywhore @lunaticgurly @shippers-heart @van0413 

@local-witch-of-mn @youlovetkay @eralen @chimaeracabra @dontbescaredtosingalong @lokislastlove @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @kvzctam @mansaaay​  @lipstickstainedred @thanatosfic @avengers-goddess @emberenchanted

[saintblk]

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON

contains: sexual content, vulgar language, black coded!afab!reader

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON who consistently finds himself trending on twitter. y'all did not hear this from me, but twitter porn was where i found the best porn. he wears a poorly made, cheap, half-face batman mask he found in the costume aisle of a target. he snorted and placed it in his cart but found it absolutely hilarious using it to keep his anonymity as a camboy months later.

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON turns his webcam on after a stressful night of crime fighting and comes to the conclusion that he needs to unwind. the tips quickly roll in as soon as his live starts, causing him to break into that toothy grin that makes everyone swoon and keyboard smash in the comments. during some casual small talk, he reaches into his boxers and pulls out his member to stroke. a groan or two break out of his throat every so often until the conversation ends because all he can focus on is the feeling of his hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping desperately for release.

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON who meets you while picking little damian up from school. it just so happens you're there to pick up your little brother as well, and you're dressed in the smallest skirt and tightest crop top. turns out you were new to gotham and moved in with your family while paying off your college debt. every inch of you seemed to be glistening, and the scent of your cocoa butter moisturizer filled his head with sinful thoughts. so in true dick grayson manner, he manages to charm you into bring your little brother over to make nice with damian, who seems utterly mortified at the thought. you accept anyway with a cheeky smile and put your number into dick's phone.

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON has you bent over nearly every surface of his apartment soon enough. he's completely infatuated with you and baffled at what was supposed to be a fling becoming far more. the hold you had on him was beyond that of your tight cunt clenching around his length, though that was part of it. dick finds himself allowing you to do what no other woman had done. he lets you stay the night, let's you make breakfast after some life-changing morning sex. he even allows you to parade around his apartment with just his shirt on while he simply takes in the view.

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON who makes love to you on camera for all his fans to see. he's got you wearing a cat-woman mask just as poorly made as his own, that tickles his face just a bit whenever he leans down to kiss you. his fingers intertwine with your's as you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him inside you. he fucks you with reckless abandon and makes you lose all rational thought. he cums with you that night, planting soft kisses on your warm skin and whispering secret 'i love yous' meant only for your ears.

CAMBOY!DICK GRAYSON is exceptionally good at aftercare. as soon as he shuts the camera off, he's slipping the mask off and scooping you up in his arms to run the two of you a warm bath. it soothes your sore muscles, and hearing his words of praise make you feel like you're on cloud nine.

"so good for me..." he hums with a peck to the shell of your ear. "did so well, baby."

you bite your lip and sink into his hold just as he urges you to talk about your day. you ramble about any and everything and camboy!dick listens as though every word you speak is worth more than gold. any moment with you is treasured by him considering his job as nightwing kept him from you during the nights. camboy!dick relishes in the tranquility of it all and basks in the moment. there and then is when he decides holding you in his arms is a far better alternative to winding down than webcamming ever was.

2023 ©️ all rights reserved by saintblk (me) | do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission

[subskz]

Making either Hannie or Channie finger themselves right in front of you 🙈💕

gonna answer this pretending like the thought of channie fingering himself isn’t abt to send me into a frenzy 😰

our two shy exhibitionists! i think either one of them would love the thrill of being watched by you as he touches himself but at the same time, he’d get insanely flustered abt it. on top of how embarrassed he feels being exposed to you like that, he’s also just embarrassed abt how badly he wants you to look at him. it sets his skin on fire to feel your eyes raking all over his body as he lies there, fully on display for you, doing smth so filthy and making the most pathetic little sounds. but that added burn of humiliation just intesifies his pleasure tenfold <3

hannie would wanna put on a good show for you, he’s a natural born entertainer after all~ he whines out smth like “you’re staring too muchhh, it’s embarrassinggg i can’t do it righttt”, but in the same breath, he spreads his legs wider to push two of his slick fingers deeper inside of him and lets out a long, shaky moan. he’s not used to doing it all himself, so his pace might be a lil sloppy and erratic, just mindlessly pumping in and out, trying to make himself feel good however he can. it doesn’t help that he writhes around a lot, making it difficult for him to maintain a constant pace and hit his sweet spot consistently enough to make himself cum. but when he does manage to brush against his prostrate just right, you know immediately bc the sharp cry he lets out is spine-tingling. he looks so cute trying to work himself to his climax, rolling his hips down against his palm w his mouth hanging open n his tongue peeking out 💓 the better he feels, the more difficult it is for him to stay focused and controlled, so you might end up w a desperate baby begging you to please take over, bc he needs to cum so bad and doesn’t know if he can do it on his own ):

channie is definitely less shameless than jisung, at least when he starts out. his whole reason for even doing smth that’s guaranteed to fluster him out of his mind is just to please you. almost anything that’ll win your approval n praise is fair game, even if it makes his whole body feel like it’s on fire to have you watch him spread his thick pretty thighs and play w himself. the whole time all he can think of his how he looks in your eyes—what you think of his facial expressions, his poorly concealed moans, if he’s doing it properly, if he should go faster or slower. his cock leaking and twitching against his tummy is almost like an afterthought to him, all that matters to him is pleasing you! the squelching of the lube every time he pumps in and out turns his face beet red, he presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, completely mortified by the filthy sounds his fingers are creating and how they mix w the pathetic whimpers building in his throat. just hearing himself sends a surge of hot shame over him, so he can only imagine what the sight of himself would do. he has to keep fighting back the urge to close his legs and can’t help but meekly ask you “is this okay? ‘m i doing it right?” only for your answer to make him even more of a mess when you tell him to focus on his pleasure bc all you want is to see your pretty boy feeling good ♡

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Stunts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Oops, she did it again 🙄

A/N: Sorry to disappear for so long. Motivation is hard to find these days.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, broken bones.

“I’m not sure who I’m more afraid for.”

Wanda sighs in defeat as Steve and her brother open the back door for her. She’s exhausted and very worried about what’s about to happen as soon as she leaves the car. Today had been a whirlwind and she should be more stressed about how poorly that worked out, but now she had something else to concern herself with.

“Ow, fuck!”

Wanda stops short of scooting out of the car as she hits her leg on the seat. She has her back to the duo because she’d figured that the best way to get out was to have them lift her. She was regretting this decision immediately. Her brother grabs her shoulders while Steve stands by anxiously with the wheelchair, and Wanda sighs in defeat.

“Not helping, Pietro.”

Wanda knows that she’s certainly more afraid for herself right now. Steve will be fine. You might be a little annoyed at him, but ultimately Wanda made her own decisions and both of you knew it. Unfortunately, this included her less than stellar decisions. Like the one she’d made today.

As usual, Wanda had been working today, and unfortunately that mostly consisted of running errands. She and Steve had taken a wrong turn though, and ended up in enemy territory. Despite trying to escape undetected, they ended up being followed and a shootout had ensued.

Pietro can’t help but smile slightly at his sister’s predicament. After hearing about what happened, he’d mostly been concerned about his sister. However, once he realized that she was stable he asked her for the full story. Steve and Wanda gave a slightly different one, but the end result was the same.

“So, are you going to tell Y/n that you jumped out of a car?”

Wanda grunts in annoyance as she’s set in the wheelchair that she’s going to hate before the end of the day. She glares at her brother before she turns to look over her shoulder at Steve. He was smarter than she was, and as the driver he did a good job of losing most of the cars that had been following them. It was just the last one that he couldn’t shake that led them into a trap and got them in trouble. Luckily a head-on collision only resulted in Steve getting a couple of scrapes and bruises. Unfortunately, Wanda had been half out the window shooting at their pursuers, and she’d been thrown from the car. She’d landed on her leg and immediately realized she’d broken it, but she’s had to roll out of the way to avoid getting run over.

Steve sighs inaudibly as he follows Pietro’s lead to the elevator. Wanda wants to tell him that she doesn’t need him to push her, but she was sore all over and appreciated not having to strain herself.

“I didn’t jump Pietro! I fell.”

Pietro just hums in acknowledgment before pressing the up button to the elevator. It was nearly 8pm, and despite being briefed about Wanda’s late night, you hadn’t been told about what happened. This probably wasn’t the best decision that Wanda’s made today, but she’s about to find out if it’s the worst. She hopes you’re not too angry with her, but there’s really only one way to find out.

As Steve rolls her into the elevator, she takes a deep breath before she starts to fiddle with her rings. She probably was going to be couched for at least a week.

You’re upstairs finishing up dinner when Wanda returns to the compound. You had wanted to wait for her but you really never knew when she’d be back on the days where she said she would be late without any sort of elaboration. It could be a couple hours late, or she could come home a couple of hours before you had to wake up. It just depended on the day and what Wanda had to do, but luckily today was an earlier night for your wife.

You smile at the sound of the door opening, and you’re about to greet your wife when something odd catches your attention. You aren’t surprised to hear more than one set of footsteps, but there’s another sound, something rolling you think, that confuses you.

“Wanda?”

You round the counter and you’re surprised to see both Steve and Pietro, but this quickly becomes overridden by the sight of your wife sitting in a wheelchair. She has a cast covering a majority of her leg, and you stare in shock for a few seconds before you find your voice and look between the trio in concern.

“Wands, what happened??”

You hurry forward when you see Wanda reach out for the crutches in her brother’s hands. She wants to stand up and hug you, but Pietro doesn’t hand them over, and you are already on your knees beside her to stop her.

“I had a bit of an accident, but I’m okay.”

You frown at this as you grab Wanda’s hand and squeeze it with a worried look. You need more information than this, and eventually you need to know why you’re only just finding out about it. Instead, you focus on your wife and how she’s feeling. She looks tired and her face is covered in tiny scratches and a few larger bruises. You hate to see her hurt, and you can’t help but want to keep her hidden here in your rooms until she’s fully healed.

“What happened? How did you break your leg?”

Pietro decides that he’s not needed here, and after setting Wanda’s crutches aside he starts to walk away. You shoot him a confused look, but Wanda just sighs before deciding to get right to it. She doesn’t need Steve and Pietro to hang around for your reaction to what she says next, but she doesn’t want to ask them to go. You might take that the wrong way.

“I fell out of a moving car.”

Steve and Pietro ended up leaving not too long after Wanda tells you about what her day had been like. She’s surprised that you’re not angry at her. It’s not like she’d actually jumped out of the car, and maybe she’d been a little reckless, but you were mostly worried about her. You heated up her dinner and helped her eat once she told you that she was a little sore. You’d insisted on keeping her from doing much of anything for the rest of the night. You’d set her up on the couch after dinner and you were carefully looking over the drugs that she’d been sent home with a frown.

“Are you wanting to take all of these?”

You loved your wife, you really did, but it hadn’t taken you long to realize that she was a lightweight. When it came to pain killers, she would usually get knocked out regardless of how much she took. It was a little puzzling given how much she could drink, but you knew better than to bring that up right now. Wanda was frowning too because she was beginning to realize how long 6 weeks would last with you doting on her and not letting her do anything that might be considered strenuous.

Wanda just shakes her head before mentioning how loopy she’d been after she’d woken up from surgery. She regrets saying this immediately because you stiffen and shoot her an incredulous look that makes her cower.

“Wait, you had surgery today? And you didn’t tell me?”

You would admit that you were a little annoyed that Wanda hadn’t told you about what happened right when it happened. That said, you know your wife, and she liked to save the bad news for when everything was already worked out and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. It was infuriating and despite the urge to couch your wife when she did something like this, you’re not sure she would really ever change.

This however was different because there’s no circumstance where you feel that it’s okay for her to have surgery and not tell you about it. Wanda seems to realize why you’re mad too, but she doesn’t get to speak up before you’re standing with a huff of annoyance.

“You went under and didn’t bother to tell me about it? What the hell, Wanda?”

You storm off to the kitchen before Wanda can respond, and she cringes when she hears you slam a cabinet shut before turning on the sink. You come back scowling as you hand your wife the glass of water before opening one of her bottles to give her a pill.

“I didn’t mean--.”

“Take this, then let me know when you want to sleep. You can sleep in bed with me, but you’re not getting any until this is healed, understand?”

Wanda’s face pales a little but she eventually nods before looking away to hide her embarrassment. She should have known that you weren’t going to let her off the hook. She also knows better than to argue when you’ve clearly made your mind up about something, so she just nods with a defeated sigh.

“Understood.”

Masterlist

[scorpioracha]

Jisung x reader, exhibitionism, slight reader x Minho, perv! Jisung, open ended ending

Perv! Jisungie has been running through my head rampantly. Like this baby gives me such service top exhibitionist energy that I can’t help but to imagine him wanting to take you anywhere he thinks he can get away with it. Lmk if you likeee I’ve never really written something like this before 🫶🏾

Movie night with the boys starts off innocent enough, a casual sleepy affair with everyone sated from the dinner Minho cooked and sprawled across the various couches in the living room. You weren’t even really sure what was playing and you couldn’t say you were interested. You were hoping for the fault in our stars but they all wiped the floor with you in the first round of rock paper scissors leaving you pouting and uninterested. It wasn’t anything new, you never won anyways but you were hopping someone like Chan did, instead of being forced to watch one of Hyunjin’s many many historical art piece documentaries. No one was really watching but at least Chan and Felix tried to feign interest, letting out little hums and questioning hmm’s when it felt appropriate. Minho had left halfway through to do dishes, Jeongin was scrolling through Pinterest and Changbin was fast asleep in the comfort of his room, the only one brave enough to reject the movie completely. Seungmin had been sent to the convenience store an hour ago which was suspicious because the closest one was a five minute walk.

That just left you with the yapper,the mediators,the iPad kid and your lovely boyfriend who went through the trouble of getting you all nice and cozy with blankets because these heathens didn’t believe in heat before January. If they weren’t idols they’d make excellent landlords, you rolled your eyes. Despite the annoyances—if hyunjin ever pulled this shit again you were going to turn his jiniret into a smoothie—it was a nice time. You’d never admit it to their faces but you missed them. With all the schedules and comebacks it was hard to remember a time where they didn’t look half dead or were asleep. It was even nicer getting to see Jisung. The two of you had spent the better half of the movie side eyeing each other and giggling about Chan’s lackluster responses, the single father jokes almost blew your cover from how hard you were trying not to laugh. The monotonous drone of the narrative and Hyunjin’s consistent chatter lulled you into a hazy state of dozing off. The world growing pleasantly fuzzy as you laid your head on Jisung’s shoulder. It was perfect really, the lights were off, shades were drawn and he was rubbing your head in a way that had you nudging into his touch, scooting closer until you ended up in his lap. He grabbed the blanket and fluffed it a bit so you were both wrapped up tight and your head was resting in the crook of his neck.

The touches started off innocent enough. The hand that was rubbing your head ran down your back, massaging your hips and trailing down your thighs. This didn’t sound off any alarms, Jisung had always been pretty tactile and you were still dozing a bit. That was until his hand snaked around your waist, leaving feather light touches on your tummy, gentle adjusting you so you were more so straddling than cuddling him. You hummed inquisitively but he just shushed you and went back to rubbing your back. It felt nice, having his hands on you, they were warm and you were weak so you all but melted into his arms. You weren’t sure when gentle caresses turned into poorly disguised groping but you couldn’t help but gasp when his hands trailed back towards your stomach settling on your pelvis just below the hem of your sweats.

“W-what are you doing, sungie?”you whisper in his ear. You could feel him smile before you see it, all teeth and all trouble.

“ ‘m bored” is his only response as he rubs soft circles with his thumb across your hip bones, his grip only tightening when you begin to squirm.

“Wanna be good for me?”he purrs into your ear. the feeling of his breath fanning your neck alone has you trying to hide a shudder but you find your nodding anyways.

“Say it”he goads, digging his thumbs deeper into your hips making you suppress a whine.

“Say you want me to touch you”he starts.

“I-I want you to touch me”you say in a low tone, eyes darting around the room trying to make sure now wasn’t the time people decided to become social.

“In front front of all the members”he finishes. You flush and shake your head a bit.

“I-I Jisung—“

“Say it” he says. the glint in his eyes had gotten much darker, or maybe the hue of the tv had shifted. you felt the swirl of arousal begin to stir in the pit of your stomach. you’ve played the staring game with Jisung before time and time again. and if the earlier rock paper scissors was any indication.

You weren’t too good at winning.

“want..want you to touch me..’front of all y’er members”you mumble quickly, feeling your face grow hot and your stomach sink just a little bit. His grin widens and he rewards you by fulling dipping his hand under the waist band of your sweats, letting his fingertips rest on your clothed cunt.

“Really”he whispers, going for coy but he just looked hungry. “Didn’t know my girl was so needy”

There wasn’t much more time wasted talking as there was energy going into making sure you didn’t get caught. You isolated between pretending to sleep with your head on his chest to cover your face and inevitably needing to come up for air by pretending to stir restlessly.

and Jisung wasn’t playing fair.

Your panties were all but forced to the side as he rubbed deep gentle circles on your clit. and it just made you all the more aware of sound. Hyunjin talking, Chan and Felix now deep into their own conversation, games coming from Jeongin’s phone and Minho occasionally dropping cutlery in the kitchen and cursing. You could also hear your own heartbeat and the squelching of your cunt as Jisung bullied two fingers inside you, resulting in a strangled grunt and biting his shoulder. your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold but Jisung didn’t stop. Instead he curled his fingers just right in the way that had you wanting to crumple right there. his other thumb found his way to your clit and you were panting in his ear desperately trying to find the words slow down. Your head was thrown over his shoulder and all you saw was the hardwood floor, the dining room table and the glint of the kitchen light seeping in. your thighs were burning and you couldn’t tell whether you were chasing the pleasure or running away from it. and Jisung has the nerve to look unphased. his eyes were focused on the documentary and he was even engaging in Hyunjin’s pointless debates on modernism and whatever the fuck Picasso did and you have tears in your eyes from trying so hard not to make a sound. Jisung is hard, you can feel it, you know he’s getting off to it and the minute he hears a sniffle and feels your tear on his cheek, it’s over. You’re shifted a little bit to the left, he spreads your legs a bit wider and he’s thrusting his fingers into you with abandon. His face is still perfectly neutral while you’re falling apart just out of everyone’s line of sight.

Well, almost everyone.

You hear the hardwood floor creak just barely as Minho pads back in. In a state of panic your eyes shoot up and meet his, teary and damn near crossing. He goes to speak, he tilts his head, and he stops in his tracks. you’ve never made such intense eye contact with Minho before, it’s like you can see every thought run across his eyes in real time and fuck you’re still crying. they darken significantly before they settle on a sick understanding that has you feeling nauseous and hot and clenching tight around Jisung’s fingers. Minho’s eyes never leave yours and you almost feel like this was planned in a way. You wanna ask, but before you can Jisung is pinching your clit and you’re cumming around his fingers with an aborted cry. mid way through your high you realize the hand around your mouth is smaller than usual and the one petting your hair has sharp nails that Jisung doesn’t.

It’s Minho announcing that he’s back that finally gets everyone’s attention. The boys seem to all snap out of their own worlds in tandem and welcome him back with varying degrees of enthusiasm. You’re just happy to have the attention fully off you for a bit because you’re still shaking and your eyes are red and-

“Hey y/n, you alright?”Felix asks with a worried pout. you don’t even have time to think about an acceptable answer before Minho is rubbing your head again, those same sharp nails tracing your scalp and saying.

“She’s alright, just got a little banged up from helping me in the kitchen”

[emelinstriker]

{Eternal Servants AU} Nezha ♡ Loyalty

Art drawn by me + the AU itself is mine.

This will just show y'all ESAU!Nezha's character as well as a bit of info on how the servants think/feel about things. The artwork isn't referencing any scene from this one-shot btw.

CW: Descriptions of death and gore

[TL;DR] Ehe, ESAU lore hints wink wink-

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"That was all her fault for acting so disrespectful! And towards Master's name, no less!"

"I can't argue with that logic. But did you really have to punch her skull in before the torture even started?"

"Well, of course! Her presence was no longer welcomed the moment she called Master insulting names."

Macaque and Nezha were chilling in the torture chamber. The simian was sitting on a table with bloody tools while the celestial was cleaning up some of those tools with a towel. A deceased woman was strapped to the table in the middle of the room. Her skull was smashed, showing how mangled the remains of her brain looked as her head lied in a pool of her own blood.

Macaque sighed, "You can't just eliminate someone before we even tortured them, though. Even if they disrespected our Master while trapped here-" "That's just it! Our Master should always be respected and worshipped! They deserve nothing less than pure adoration!" Nezha cut him off, clearly angered. The dark-furred monkey raised an eyebrow at him, his tail flicking behind him at the surprise of Nezha talking back to him.

"Nezha, I get where you're coming from, I really do. I want our Master to always be respected and worshipped as well." Macaque started as he crossed his arms. "However, see it this way: Would you rather kill those who treated our lovely Master poorly, basically sparing them from pain, or would you rather let them serve their sentence by prolonging their suffering?"

The pink champion froze for a moment as he thought about the other champion's words... The simian was right. It would be a lot more satisfying watching the unworthy suffer by his hands than just simply killing them in one blow.

Nezha groaned as he quietly cussed to himself. Macaque had no problem catching him cussing and chuckled, his tail swaying for a moment in dark delight.

"Well, shit! Guess this is just a wasted kill after all!" The celestial exclaimed. He then heard the other servant 'tut' at him. Annoyed, Nezha turned towards the monkey, glaring.

"I wouldn't say it's fully wasted... This," the simian started as he hopped off the table and moved towards the table with the woman's corpse, gesturing towards her as he continues, "is still our dinner." If Nezha's pupils were visible, his eye roll would've been very much noticeable. He then followed the purple champion over to the table.

Macaque grabbed one of the knives on the way and chuckled darkly. He used it to smoothly cut into the woman's thigh, slicing a big chunk of flesh like a cake. More of the bit of blood she still had inside her body spilled out of the body's new wound and onto the table, the knife, and Macaque's hand. The simian then grinned and held said piece of meat out towards the pink champion. "Well? Go ahead, dig in. It's still fresh."

The pink champion, already used to it at this point, simply took the raw piece of meat and looked at it with a slight bit of disgust. He may have eaten a few remains raw before to prove his worth and loyal devotion to the other champions, but he still didn't exactly like the consistency of the meat. "Thanks... But I think I'll wait till it's cooked..."

The dark-furred monkey shrugged. "Suit yourself then," he said before he shoved the meat into his mouth, loudly chewing on his bloody meal as he already started cutting another piece of the woman's corpse. All while Nezha watched in silence. This little ritual the champions had of eating the remains of the tortured ones always reminded him of how he became his Master's servant himself.

It reminded him of that one demon village that was eradicated off the face of the earth. The huge pile of corpses Macaque made with the bodies of those villagers that disrespected and hurt their Master... And Nezha was the one tasked to set the pile ablaze. Back in that moment, he truly felt awful for taking the torch. But it didn't take long for him to actually enjoy the sight as his vision darkened. Especially once he saw his beloved Master in person again, this time becoming your pink champion. Your touch just felt so addicting to him, as if it was all he needed to forget all the bad he did. Your touch, your love and affection, was all he had ever craved...

No longer was there any guilt or regret. His Master was all that mattered to him. He felt pure happiness he had never felt in all his years of serving the Jade Emperor and the Celestial Realm...

Not that he remembered much about his so-called "past life" anyway.

Ever since he's become one of his Master's eternal servants, he practically forgot all about what his life was like before. He had very limited memories, of which only some were family-related, from when he was just born.

Suddenly, Macaque froze mid-bite. His ear twitched a little before he smiled brightly, joyfully devouring the meat and swallowing it quickly, placing the knife on the table. "Master is calling for me!"

And in a blink, the simian disappeared through a shadow portal that opened up right beneath him. Nezha sighed as he glanced at the corpse of the woman, placing the piece of meat from his hand onto her body. He probably would need to carry her remains to the fridge. After all, he didn't know when the others wanted to eat. He knew Wukong was busy with the palace's guards, Macaque was now gone to answer to their Master's call, and Nezha himself didn't know what to even do. He didn't have any tasks besides torturing that woman, and that already ended extremely prematurely due to his outburst.

"Ugh, fuck! I knew I shouldn't have killed her yet!" He grumbled angrily as he took the knife Macaque used to cut her, and proceeded to stab the corpse's neck in rage. He grumbled out more curses as he twisted the knife around the woman's neck in annoyance. A few minutes passed before he heard a shadow portal open up again. He turned towards it, out came the purple champion again. The simian was about to say something, but then paused and pursed his lips at the sight of Nezha moving the knife inside the woman's neck.

"...You're not supposed to play with your food, pinky. Didn't your friends up in the Celestial Realm ever teach you that?" Macaque teased with a smirk.

The pink champion scoffed in response, pulling out the knife from the woman's neck before slamming it back down, but this time into her eye. Due to his sheer strength, he easily smashed it through part of her skull as well, seemingly ignoring her destroyed eye on the way as her body seemed to weep more blood. "I'm aware of the saying. But what else am I supposed to do? I'm bored!"

Macaque huffed, grinning as he approached the celestial with crossed arms. His tail swayed gently behind him. "If you're bored, then you're in luck! I have a task for you. A very important one..."

Now, due to Macaque having to leave for a mission, Nezha was suddenly happy again. Not necessarily because of the simian being gone, but because of how the celestial was tasked to watch over their Master. Alone. The other champions were busy after all, so their beloved Master needed someone to fill the bodyguard slot for a while. Master's security ink wasn't enough for the monkey brothers. So, Nezha was tasked to be your bodyguard for the time being. And he was ecstatic everytime he was tasked to stay around you. Sure, being bodyguards is like the usual job the champions had signed up for, but Nezha had you for himself in his moment. No other champion could take your attention.

He was standing next to your throne as he stared at you with a soft, loving gaze. You could practically see little hearts floating around his head as his focus stayed solely on you. You looked at him as you hummed in thought. While you didn't mind staying on your throne, you also didn't expect any meeting today. Perhaps you could do something else. You haven't had any alone time with Nezha in a while anyway. And having him stare at you like that for the next few hours wasn't exactly the most entertaining thing. "Sooo... Do you wanna walk around the palace?" You suggested.

Your pink champion seemed to have been caught off guard as he sheepishly nodded. "That would be a wonderful idea, Master. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe the entire time!" He added proudly. You couldn't help but chuckle at his eagerness as you stood up and gently took his hand into yours. Your touch made him smile brightly beneath his mask as he stayed close to you, all while you lead him out of the throne room and down the hall, enjoying your conversation with him. Occasionally, there were a few servants on the way, who all bowed to greet you, but the halls were generally pretty quiet today.

However, that was only until you walked through the activity wing.

There was a sudden bang that startled you and your champion. Nezha quickly recovered from his startled confusion as he took up a more defensive and protective stance, summoning his fire-tipped spear to his side as he shielded you with his body. The loud bang came from down the hall in front of you. When the doors to the library swung open, they swung so strongly that they slammed against the wall, nearly ripping them off their hinges. And out into the hall came a furry beast with six legs. It growled as it moved menacingly out of the library. Then it turned a bit towards you and Nezha... Its four eyes seemed to focus on the celestial in front of you, sensing his energy specifically.

You knew this beast... It was the beast from a book you once read. It was known to be a form of Celestial Hunter. Not much was known about them, other than that they would lure divine entities by copying the voices or looks of someone they love and trust. They would then either  bite and infect, or straight up feast on the victim. However, this beast was seen as just simple fiction... How was is real? Where did it come from?

The beast then tried to appear more friendly as it tilted its head at Nezha. Since the celestial already saw its real form, it probably would be unable to get away with a disguise. However, it seemed to have a plan B...

"Nezha? Is that you?" The beast asked in a female voice you didn't recognize. But Nezha did... It was his mother's voice. He gripped his spear tightly, his eyes widening just slightly.

"...Mother?"

The beast doesn't move as it stares at Nezha, lowering its head a bit to try lower his guard. It was trying to get him into a false sense of security.

"Yes, it's me... My son, what happened to you? You don't look so well... We have to leave and get you out of here. This place isn't safe. Come with me, Nezha... Please, come with me... There is so much darkness here... It's so dark here..." As much as it seemed tempting to follow these voice's instructions, Nezha also was fairly aware of the ominous looking creature the voice was coming from. This wasn't any simple demon. Yet, he couldn't help but shake just slightly at the voice of his mother...

That's when he felt you lightly squeeze his hand with yours, bringing him back to the current situation. He glanced behind him to look at you and saw your worried, helpless expression...

He knew he would be a fool if he ever let that... that thing lure him away from his Master...

The temptation to be lured closer to the beast was now gone as quickly as it came, simply replaced by thoughts of his beloved Master. Nezha glared daggers at the beast. He was stronger than whatever it would throw at him. He knew it. And so did you... And he refused to disappoint his beloved, his true Master.

Your pink champion refused to be manipulated so easily.

Not when he had a job to do.

Not when this job involved serving you.

He was one of your champions for a good reason, after all.

The beast seemed to notice the way the celestial seemed more in focus again, and it quickly realized that he couldn't be tricked like its previous victims. So, it dropped its friendly act and let out a loud, hungry screech before it sprinted in his direction. Nezha, with his extreme speed, let go of your hand and swiftly attacked it with his fire-tipped spear, using his now lit up wheels for an extra boost as he stabbed the beast. He grunted in rage as the beast tries to attack him now with the close range. However, he dodged most of its bites and swipes with ease, using his strength to try bend one of its legs and break it. Only to then realize that it didn't have bones...

Nezha seemingly narrowed his void black eyes at the beast as he let out a low growl behind his mask... If he couldn't make it suffer with broken bones, surely tearing it apart limb by limb would work...

Thus, he held tightly onto his spear, making its flame light up more inside the darkened beast. The fire seemed to be its weakness as it began to let out a painful, or rather, seemingly scared screech. However, it was clear to him that it would not go down without a fight as it continued to claw at him. Yet everytime it would claw at him, he held his cold, angered gaze as he started to rip out the leg that it would use to attack. Despite it having no bone structure, it did seem to at least have some form of nerves. The darkened beast seemingly screeched in agony as Nezha managed to rip off one of its limbs.

The beast attempted to get away from Nezha, but he held his tight grip on his spear, refusing to let that thing go unpunished for what it tried to do... How dare it try lure him away from you, his Master...

Upon noticing the beast's attempt to flee, Nezha let out a maddening laugh as he twisted and turned his spear. The fiery tip moved from one side to the other as he enjoyed the beast writhe in pain beneath him. The celestial then slammed his flaming wheels into the beast's chest, letting its fire damage the beast as well. As he noticed a now giant, gaping hole that went through the beast's entire body, he notice how everything inside it was nothing but mass of what its outside was made out of. But it did hold some veins that glowed a very faint red, which were as red as its blood red eyes.

He scoffed as he slammed the beast onto its side, watching it lose its strength. "Ah, got it. You're one of the Oracle's friends, aren'tcha? Well, at least part of whatever the hell he is..." Nezha slammed his fire-tipped spear down into the beast's neck as he let out another painful wail in agony. The pink champion chuckled darkly as his fire spread inside the beast's body. He could practically see his flames glowing past its darkened shell of a body.

"But whether friend or foe, you just attempted a crime so outrageous, it must be punished by nothing less than death..."

Finally, he pulled his spear out of its neck and slammed it into one of the beast's eyes, stabbing it straight through its "skull" with a mocking grin underneath his mask. Just like how he stabbed that woman's corpse earlier... Soon, the beast fully collapsed and stopped moving as the fire inside its body finally seemed to spread to the outside. Nezha made sure it's dead with some extra stabs before he huffed in annoyance. "...Weak. That wasn't even half a challenge."

As he got off the beast's corpse with his spear in hand, the beast's remains suddenly turned into a black, still somewhat burning puddle on the floor. Then it hardened once more, stopping the fire, before finally turning into some form of black dust that easily spread all over the ground with minimal wind around.

Nezha scoffed at the sight before he moved back over to your somewhat shaken form. Though, you looked more intrigued by what just happened. "Master, are you alright? It didn't hurt you, did it?" He asked with sudden concern as he inspected you for any wounds, cupping your cheeks.

"I'm fine, Lotus Dork", you said a bit muffled as he had his hand on your cheeks, squishing them just slightly, looking at you. He sighed in relief as he blushed a bit at that nickname, letting go of your cheeks. But then he noticed you frown at the sight of his own wounds. There wasn't many or even deep wounds, but he did get a few puncture or claw wounds on his skin. On closer inspection, you could see some black inside his wounds. Probably tiny bits from the beast's body.

"Don't worry, Master! It'll heal itself!" He quickly said. You hummed for a moment before taking his hand and practically dragging him down in the direction you came from earlier. He blinked in surprise as he blushed in embarrassment. It probably looked funny to passing servants, just seeing how easily you dragged your pink champion around, when he could just stop moving. But you were his beloved Master, the one in charge of him and his body. Whatever you wanted to do with him was law. But he was still curious. "Master- Where are we going?"

"To the med bay, duh." You said as you pouted at him, still dragging him along like a dog on a leash going to the vet. "I want to have your wound at least disinfected before anything happens."

Nezha chuckled under his breath, which was even more muffled due to his mask. "As if that could happen twice..."

After you forced him to have his wounds cleaned and bandaged, you asked him to take off his mask for a moment. As he did what you requested, you kissed his cheek, right where his old wound was. He blushed as he felt you reward him for taking action and staying by your side.

There was nothing he wanted more than you.

[ Masterlist ]

[amymbona]

Coach Zweig who rewards you for winning a games by eating your pussy out ❤️

Coach Zweig who doesn’t let you date because you need to focus on your game.

Coach Zweig who bends you over and spanks you when you lose.

Coach Zweig who says he’ll finally fuck you if you get that grand slam.

FUCKKKKKKK😫😫😫😫💦💦💦💦 I was like yeahhh the first one is really fucking good! And then I saw the second sentence! And then the third one! And the fourth one!

The rewards begin when he offers to massage your legs for you (after the whole afternoon of you whining how sore your whole body is). He has you on his bed, laying on your tummy, fingers sliding up your calves and thighs until he can't resist it and slide his fingers under your shorts. At first he just fingers you, but soon, the sessions consist of him diving into your pussy. He never gives you enough, though, not as much as you need, rewarding you just a bit and promising that the better you get, the better the rewards will be.

He saw a boy driving you to the practice once, instantly filled with jealousy and couldn't help but be rude as fuck to you the whole time. He's always rough during practice, says it helps build the character of a player, but that one time, he was such a bitch to you. That particular day, you were pushed to your very limit. And when you attempted to confront him, he told you every time you go on a date could be spent on the court instead. He's worse than your father, really, even insisting to give you a ride every so often to be sure there is no other boy competing for you attention.

The first time Patrick bent you over his lap was after one of the first bigger matches, you out of the city. You were incredibly nervous that day, almost crying, and unfortunately lost the match. When Patrick entered the locker rooms, you hoped he was gonna hug you, perhaps, and lighten up your mood. But instead, he pulled you over his thighs, ass up, and rolled your skirt up. He made you count too, and apologise after each time his palm made a contact with your ass, for playing so poorly. "Good girls get rewarded, bad girls get punished." Ever since that say, that sentence has stuck in your brain like a mantra.

You had the fuck talk completely sober, serious and without much bickering. Patrick is definitely not stupid, and he's a man with a fair amount of sexual experience. And he can damn well see when someone is attracted to him. So when you're stretching, his frame looming over yours, hand laid on your back to help you bend further and stretch your muscles fully, he casually drops it. It's like a bomb actually, and leaves you with soaked panties for the whole two hours of your practice. You are definitely getting that slam.

[gravehags]

every day is halloween

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: reader and Copia have become good friends, sexual tension, romantic tension, Halloween party, Terzo is back on his matchmaking bullshit, slight Terzomega

Words: 2,156

Summary: Halloween always was your favorite holiday.

a/n: Desperately wanted Copia in a Halloween costume so here we are. If you know who either Copia or reader is dressed as I'm giving you a big wet kiss with tongue.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“So what are you going to be for the big Halloween party?”

You’ve got your feet up on your coffee table, currently watching Copia poorly guide Lara Croft through a jungle temple. When you found out he likes video games just as much as you do - albeit his games are a little older - you invited him to your quarters every Friday for a game night. These nights usually consisted of the two of you drinking wine and taking turns with your PS5 controller, all the while casually venting about your respective weeks. Lara runs directly off a cliff and you snort as Copia throws his hands up in defeat, tossing the controller onto the couch.

“Eh…it’s a secret,” the tips of his ears are red and a slow grin settles on your face.

“Ooooh,” you tease, adjusting yourself on the cushion so your legs are tucked under you. “Alright fine, I’m not telling you mine either. But it’s so good. You’ll never guess.”

Copia’s mustache twitches in amusement.

“Hmm…give me a hint, cara. Per favore.”

You’re momentarily distracted by the endearment - you still haven’t quite gotten used to hearing that sort of thing from him since Terzo’s party and it enchants you every time - but then your face settles into a pout.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Eh…because we are amici. And I am a terrible guesser.”

You make sure to put extra drama into your eye roll but answer him all the same.

“Fine. ONE hint. It’s a historical figure.”

When he reaches a gloved hand up to stroke his mustache thoughtfully you can’t help but sigh a little. Where did he get off being so damn cute?

“Is it–”

“Don’t guess now,” you say, slapping his arm lightly. “You can ponder it over the next few weeks. Now come on, pick that controller up, Lara has some tombs to raid.”

Grabbing it, he passes it to you.

“Your turn, dolcezza,” he says with a tired look. “It has been far too long a week and I would much rather watch you play.”

Shrugging, you lean over and set your wine glass down on the table and accept the controller from his hand.

“Watch and learn, dear Cardinal,” you smirk as you unpause the game.

He spends the remainder of the evening with his eyes on you and not the screen.

—-

“Progress on your costume coming along?” you ask, bent over with your arms on Copia’s desk. When you see his cheeks redden at the sight of you you realize your compromising position and straighten with a blush of your own.

“Eh…” he begins and clears his throat, fidgeting with the cuffs of his cassock. “Sì. Very well, I think I have all the necessary parts.”

You roll up on your tiptoes with a thoughtful expression. “Me too. Gotta say you’ve got me very intrigued, Copia.”

“D-do I?” he asks, leaning back in his chair trying his best to look casual. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and he reaches up to straighten his biretta.

“Mmhmm. Two weeks and we’ll see who can guess who is who,” you say, rolling back onto the flat of your feet and crossing your arms.

“Ah…is this a challenge now, cara?”

You fix Copia with a positively angelic look and cant your hip, not missing the way his mismatched eyes slide over your form. When he smirks up at you, your knees nearly buckle.

“Well then, signorina, if I can guess who you are or you can guess who I am…then what?”

“You get…a favor.”

“Oh?” He’s stroking his mustache again and this time you have to take a seat because your knees really do wobble.

“Yep, one favor. Redeemable anywhere, anytime.”

“For anything?” the tone of his voice lowers, darkens, and it takes you by surprise. Suddenly you remember that delicious little dream you had where he–

Ahem.

Focus.

“Sure,” you say lightly, ignoring the implications of such a broad demand. “And if I guess correctly, I get a favor of my own.”

“What if we both guess correctly?”

“Well,” you say, studying your cuticles, “the favors could cancel each other out. Or we just both have favors from one another.”

“Sì, the second option,” he says quickly, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. 

“Got something in mind?” you ask with a wry grin, wiggling your eyebrows a little. His eyes narrow and he exhales through his nose.

“Perhaps,” he practically purrs, and you have to force yourself to school your face into a neutral expression. Flustered, you rise from your chair and meander towards his office door. When your hand is on the knob you turn to face him again.

“It’s a bet, then?”

He nods solemnly, but you don’t miss the lascivious grin that plays around his painted lips.

Game on.

—

You’ve finally finished lacing yourself into the decadent black and red gown you purchased and regard yourself in your bedroom mirror. Seventeenth-century looks good on you, with the shape of the stays you wear and the way they heave your breasts up. Reaching backwards towards your bed, you grab the belt you made with small potion bottles and tie it around your waist. Last thing is an elaborate pearl necklace - the icing on the cake. When you’ve completed your look you give a little twirl in place and grin. Copia won’t know what hit him. Walking out of your room you grab your keys and phone and slip them into the discreet pocket inside your dress before heading out of your quarters.

The Ministry Halloween party, you’ve been told, is quite a sight. Terzo described it to you once at the beginning of September as the most lively celebration of the year. You are quite looking forward to seeing the costumes the siblings have adorned themselves with and your little heels tap insistently on the stone floor as you pick up your pace. Approaching the celebration hall you hear an intense muffled din coming through the large wooden doors. Taking a deep breath, you heave the doors open and your jaw drops. There must be hundreds of people in the room, wearing every costume you could possibly imagine. One wall is lined with a long table filled with decadent foods and beverages. Music plays, but is ultimately drowned out by the boisterous noise coming from the crowd that you find yourself navigating. Several siblings smile at you as you pass - just now finally warming up to you - and you’re relieved when you spot Terzo. He’s decked out in head-to-toe black with a cape and a mask over his eyes, a jaunty hat perched on his dark hair.

“Zorro?” you ask with a smile and he beams back at you. 

“Do I not look very dashing?” he crows, striking a pose. One of his ghouls emerges from behind you carrying a glass of punch - Omega, you think? - who is wearing his usual mask and short cassock. On his head is a headband with a gold halo attached and when you laugh out loud, you like to think he’s smiling at you from behind the mask. The ghouls and their function were still a mystery to you but you appreciated their stoic presence around the abbey. Terzo accepts the punch from Omega and cozies up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Don’t you look delicious tonight, bella,” he purrs in your ear. “Beautiful view,” he says, his eyes lingering on the abundant cleavage your gown produces.

When you roll your eyes and elbow him sharply in the side, you swear you hear the tall ghoul chuckle.

“I assume,” Terzo coughs after collecting himself, “that you are looking for your amato cardinale?”

You open your mouth to both protest and respond when you see Copia cutting through the crowd. He looks incredible. As he approaches your trio you gape at his outfit, having never seen him in anything but his standard cassock before. He’s wearing a tuxedo with a black bowtie and a red cummerbund. On his shoulders is a black cape lined with red satin. His mustache is waxed and hair impeccable, and you notice he’s added some grey at the temples to enhance his natural coloring.

Now it’s Terzo’s turn to elbow you. But there’s no need - Copia is similarly enraptured with your appearance, eyes dancing over the details of your gown and as Terzo did, gazing at the swell of your breasts. 

“Bellissima,” Copia breathes and Terzo regards the two of you with something akin to pride.

“Omega,” he says airily, “let us fetch some drinks.”

You barely register Terzo and his ghoul leaving the two of you alone. It’s as if all of a sudden the raucous din from the party around you has quieted as the two of you behold each other. Finally coming to your senses you shake your head and give Copia a wide smile.

“Look at you,” you say, giving him an exaggerated once-over, “aren’t you something?”

“Me?” Copia replies hoarsely, adjusting his tuxedo jacket, “Cara, you.”

You give a little “who me?” wave of your hand, but the violent blush on your cheeks gives away your true feelings.

“Well?” you ask, giving a little twirl, “who am I?”

Copia’s mouth finally closes as he remembers the bet the two of you have created. He puts his gloved hand to his chin and considers.

“Eh…is the costume historically accurate?”

You put on a faux-offended look. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

He gives you a sheepish smile and waves his hand at you.

“Hmm…” he studies you intently and you look to the ground in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“You get three guesses,” you murmur. You’re feeling generous tonight, and you’d be lying if you said a part of you didn’t want him to win.

“Artemisia Gentileschi,” he says firmly.

“Ooh, not a bad guess!” you’re impressed by him that’s for sure. “But no, not Artemisia.”

“Ah shit,” he sighs. “But the right era, sì?”

You nod.

He considers you for another silent moment before making a noise of exclamation.

“Julie d’Aubigny!” he says, looking smug. Once again you have to hand it to him for his knowledge of deep historical cuts.

“I appreciate that you acknowledge me as a bisexual icon but nope. I have no sword!”

Copia swears loudly and puts his hands on his hips. Idly, you run your fingers over the potion bottles on your belt. He’s silent for almost three whole minutes before a slow grin spreads on his face.

“Giulia Tofana,” he says, fully sure of himself this time. You grin back at him, giggle erupting from your throat.

“Bingo,” you say, poking him lightly in the chest. “Not too shabby, Cardinal, I’m very impressed.”

He looks like he wants to strut around like a proud rooster and you love the confident air he’s adorned himself with. When he’s finished preening about his victory, he holds up his hands.

“Your turn, cara.”

When you step forward into his space his eyes widen and his breathing becomes more rapid as you stalk around him in a circle.

“I think,” you say as you round his shoulder, “I deserve a hint. I gave you one a month ago and it’s only fair.”

“We’ve discussed him before,” he says simply, adjusting his gloves. Your lips curl upwards.

“Well as I have said before you look an awful lot like Vincent Price. And there’s something so familiar about this get-up, I know I’ve seen it somewhere…”

Copia says nothing but his mustache twitches in an effort not to smile. You open your mouth to tease him and then it hits you like a truck.

“Oh. My God.” you laugh. “No way!”

He’s giggling with you now, knowing full well you’ve deduced his outfit.

“You did not come to this party dressed as Vincent Van Ghoul!” you squeal and he lets out a deep laugh.

“Molto bene, Signora Tofana,” he says, slowly clapping his hands together. You give him a little curtsy just as Terzo and Omega approach you again, bearing several cups of punch.

“For you,” Terzo thrusts a glass of ominous red liquid into your hand before handing another to Copia. You smile fondly at him over the rim of your glass and Terzo gives you a little wink.

“Saluti!” he half-shouts, raising his glass. “To bets! To Sathanas! To love!”

Avoiding all eyes, you clink your glass against the other three and take a deep drink. You don’t know what is in this stuff but you suspect it’s whatever Terzo made you take a shot of at that party. It makes your throat burn and your belly warm.

“Happy Halloween,” you say softly, eyes meeting Copia’s once more.

“Happy Halloween, cara mia,” he says, just as quietly.

You don’t see Terzo looking up at Omega knowingly before pressing a kiss to the side of his mask.