#he has more bite in this game (without the black suit)

[edgepunk]

as I'm replaying msm1 I'm realizing that Peter had a little bit more of an edge in the first game

[daikiswife]

Headcanon: Dating a black Bimbo

notes: Hey hey! English isn't my first language so sorry if it's not perfect!

synopsis: Just, what if Dabi and Shigaraki had a Black Bimbo girlfriend~

warning: fluff, nsfw, cursing, semi-public, degrading, dry humping, cock drunk, pussy drunk, breeding kink, reader is part of the lov.

Tomura Shigaraki

First of all, your relationship is a true definition of "opposites attract". Shigaraki is the quiet type and he's outstanding only when he has to. When you're bubbly, extravagant and kind of loud sometimes.

but somehow you both get together

he likes the way you dress, and even if he doesn't say it out loud, he still wonders why a girl like you would date him

"so how do I look ?"

he stares at you for so long without saying anything, you are way too hot for his poor brain "Take a picture it'll last longer~" you say with a smirk on your lips. "stfu. That skirt is way too short, you hoe." you stick your tongue out to him "yeah yeah, you like it though~"

when you started dating, due to his quirk. he was very uncomfortable with touching you.

but you're touch starved and you need his hands ALL. OVER. YOU.

so he bought some digital artist gloves, spending his time squeezing your waist, thighs and ass no matter if people are watching or not

he'll slides his hand between your thighs, lightly strocking your covered pussy.

he also likes to kiss your neck slowly going down reaching your deep-cut biting your perky nipples through your shirt

he LOVES when you get your nails done make it long af he loves it "next time you should do them in baby blue... it would suit you"

he will definitely pay for your nails.

if you take him shopping he will complain all day about how much he wants to go home to play video games

but if you want something, he'll pay for it.

"Baby, what do you think of this one ?" he lazily raises his head to look at you "You look like a whore" "okay I'll take this one then~"

once again Shigaraki loves your style so he doesn't mind if what you're wearing "too short" or "too revealing", he likes it

but if someone dare look at you in some disgusting ways, he'll decay them without thinking twice

Don't look at his girl like if she was a piece of meat.

Shigaraki is very possessive

he likes to have you close when there's a lot of people around

so you're often on his lap, even during meetings

but you're such a tease, always trying to get him hard when you're supposed to sit still

pretending to find a more comfortable way to sit as you just press his covered cock with your ass

but your actions have consequences

and Shigaraki is not the patient type.

at the second that the two of you will be alone, he'll bent you over any surfaces and shoves his hard penis inside of you

"Aw look at you" he cooed "you're moaning like a dumb slut on my cock~"

he'll go rough on you, making you moaning and screaming. letting everyone around earing you "that's it baby, scream my name let them know who you're belonging to~"

Dabi

From fuck buddies to lovers in blink of an eye

You get under this man skin ngl

He loves your style, that what's peak his interest in you, but now that you both are dating he can't stop noticing the looks of others on you.

Dabi takes any occasions he has to smack your ass and boobs

"Okay I'm leaving see you later baby" you say and he looks at you "not with that skirt. go change yourself" "wtf no! I love this skirt!" he sighs "babe, I can see your bright pink thong from where I am. it's not even covering you ass properly."

like this man will do it in public with a proud smile when you'll turn to look at him

"look baby I got some new nails~!" "you really do like scratching my back, ain't you~" "wha- ITS NOT ABOUT SEX !"

Dabi is not really fond of nails, like he doesn't like it when it's too long and he will never pay for it

but he will definitely pay for nipples piercings

"oh no... I've break one of my nails..." he smirks "oh no you'll not going to require my help to masturbate anymore~"

Dabi is possessive and oddly jealous

if he sees you speaking with an other guy he'll come calmly, grabbing you by the hips, backhugging you while sending death glares to the poor guy.

when the guy is gone, you'll look at him with a disapproval look "What ? At least he's alive."

he loves making sexual jokes obviously but there's those moments when he's looking at you for a short time and his only thought is "damn I love this girl..."

"You're really pretty you know that ?" he says, dragging you on his lap "where did that come from?" "shut up, just take the compliment"

He's really weak for your touch and when I say weak, it's an HEAVY "weak".

And sometimes no matter where you are, you'll be ending with him between your thighs, your legs wraps around him while he fucks you deep and hard against a wall

his lips busy biting your neck and giving you hickeys, holding back his moans

shhh... I know princess~" he whiper next to ears, biting you lobe lightly "But you have to keep it down, people will ear you~"

he'll keep fucking you, filling you with cum before letting you go "You're such a good girl~"

Then you'll both join the meeting like nothing happens

and he'll smirks like an ass seeing his seed slowly running down your thighs

note: I'm sorry if the NSF isn't good I'm not to write those in english :(

[giuliettagaltieri]

Black, White, and Blood Red

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Neither of you are safe in the arms of the other

Warning: Blood

Word Count: 793

Inspired by this ask

When Coriolanus was wedded to you, he thought only of the glory your name could bring to his reign.

You come from a very powerful household, but among the daughters of your family, he liked you the most.  Your sisters are social butterflies, clinging to the arms of different men in parties, but you, you are always clinging to the arms of your papa.  Smiling politely at the other powerful people of the Capitol.

You only speak when you are spoken to, unlike your sisters and mother who are too desperate to have all eyes on them.

When he brings you home the night after your wedding, he expects compliance, but he is met by a sharp glare when he tries to touch you without your permission.

He had to sit and rethink his decisions after that.

Coriolanus wanted a docile wife, someone that will do his biddings without question. 

And to get you under control, he decided to lock the library so you will have no access to those books that fill your head with unnecessary ideas. 

But in retaliation, you refuse to come down and dine with him.  The Avox do not say anything about it, well, they can’t, but who knows how well they can keep this information. 

A knock on your door startles, making you spill the ink you use for your fountain pen.  You curse as it stains your palm.  In haste, you grab a cloth and rub your skin raw.

“I do not like to be kept waiting.”  Said Coriolanus in a formal tone, his voice muffled behind the door.

“Patience, my love.”  You say in a sickly sweet voice.

When you do open the doors, you are surprised when he pushes it further open, bumping into you as he lets himself in.  You bite your tongue as you lock the door.

He is seething.  “I don’t know who you are trying to impress here with your little games but as your President and your husband, I am ordering you to stop.”

You look at him unimpressed, hip propped by your vanity as you cross your arms.  “Well, good morning to you too.” 

Coriolanus walks over to you, his rough hands finding your arm in a tight grip.  “Don’t make me punish you like the people of the Districts.”

To his surprise you only laugh.  “You think I am afraid of being pitted against a few kids?”

Pitted against a few kids?

“What?”

Have you no fear of the games?

“What?”  You ask back while you pour yourself a glass of wine.  “Or are you perhaps thinking of poisoning my coffee?”  You chuckle, gloved hand covering your blood red lips to contain your laughter.  “Oh, husband, you play like a woman.”

There is truth in your words, poison is more in the domain of women but it has been effective for him, he sees no reason to change his ways.

“You are…mocking me.”  He squints his eyes at you, most men would have shriveled under his gaze but you only smile dangerously at him, lips brushing on the rim of your glass.

“Well, since you are obviously greatly dissatisfied with the way I run my country, why don’t you join me in my next meeting, hm?”  He walks over to you, smiling sweetly as he traces a finger on your neck.  You meet his gaze, not batting an eye when he swiftly breaks off a rose from the vase beside your head. 

You requested the thorns to be kept and your smile widens upon seeing a smear of blood on his thumb as he twirls the rose.  He grins at you and presses the rose on your temple and slips it behind your ear in a torturous slow speed, letting the thorn press and slice your skin, creating a line of crimson. 

When your smile doesn’t falter, he laughs in great amusement.  Blood soaks your pearl earring but you glide your hand over his tie like nothing has happened.  

You fix his suit over his tie, adjusting it so he looks his best.  “If my sweet husband insists, then I shall come.”  In a split second you cinch the knot of his tie, dangerously tight that it cuts off his blood flow, making him sputter as he falls to his knees, desperately clawing at his neck.

You pour him a cup of tea and you bend next to him, offering the drink as you rub his back.  With bloodshot eyes, Coriolanus glares at you, a hand still clutching his throat.

He glances at the tea in your hand and just as his hands brush the fine china, he pauses.

Coriolanus does not know which is more poisonous, the cup of tea or the smile on your lips.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

You line the end of your stick up with the cue ball, your tongue poking out from between your lips in concentration. Playing pool was never your strong suit, but you’re not trying to win this game per se. You’re interested in something far more valuable.

TOJI FUSHIGURO approaches you from behind, hanging his head to the side to get a good gander at your round behind. The baby tee you wear rides up from how you bend over, revealing the dimples at the small of your back. Not at all brief, and in great detail, Toji imagines other contexts. Circumstances in which his thumbs would find a handle on those divots, yanking you back onto him when you run away from a good dicking. Looking at you now, dressed up in a pink outfit two sizes too small, you wouldn’t know a good dicking if it hit you in the face, and he sure was considering batting your pretty cheeks with it.

You wiggle your hips, subconsciously rearing to prepare for your shot, and he chases you. Without thinking about it, he lines himself up with you, rolling his tongue between his lips as mere inches separate the bulge in his pants with your backside strapped in by that teeny skirt. His hand itches to fix onto your tailbone, steadying you so he can nudge up against you. Jus’ a little, wouldn’t even know he was there. Tuck his thumb in the crevice to give your asshole a massage while he did it, he’s really thinking about you here, you should be grateful.

You wind back, and flick your stick forward, pool balls knocking together in snapping sounds as you watch your move play out. He sniffs and swipes his nose pinching it between his index and thumb real quick, adjusting his pants by the back of his belt as he rounds you. A hand at the top of his stick allows him to lean on it marginally, the pool balls slowing to a stop under his gaze.

“You’re bad at this.” he tells you.

The curl to your lips deepens, popping your hip out as you tilt your head at him. He notes the flirtatious body language, the knowing glint in your eye. “Am I?”

His gaze darkens. “Can show you a few things. If you promise it’ll get through that thick skull o’ yers.” A small smile on his mouth stretches out the scar tissue overlaying his lips, and you visualize tracing it with your tongue.

“Oh, don’t be a brute.” you respond as he passes behind you, forcing you to follow him with your eyes. As he picks his target, he holds your gaze, hunching over the table as he lines up his stick. Powerful shoulders confined in a thin black t-shirt has you biting hard onto your lower lip. He breaks the eye contact long enough to hit the ball, but you don’t bother watching them scatter, focused on taking in every marginal move he makes, straightening to his full and dizzying height. The end of his stick comes to your exposed midriff, and hooks under the hem of your baby tee, flicking it up.

“You like it when I’m a brute.”

Indignantly, you tug your shirt back down. It’s clear he wanted to fake you out, make you believe he was gonna get away with flashing himself and any lucky stiff at this bar. You swat his arm scoldingly, but all your dumb brain can think about is how hard and thick his bicep is. “I do not! Why do you insist on bullying me?”

He grins, canines glinting in the dim and smoky light, snickering through his nose. “Easy to bully when you’re bite-sized.”

Bite-sized. That’s all that goes through that thick skull of yours when Toji’s pulling out your brains and shoving ‘em back in with every fuck into you later. Powerful and harsh thrusts, nailing your abused cervix so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise. “The fuck are you thinking about, hah? You rememberin’ those pool tips? Got ya to lay down real low on that table. Bet everyone saw up that stupid little skirt.” Toji jeers at you while he’s pinning you by your head, big hand on your hair to pin your cheek to the mattress. “Everyone saw you leave with me. Saw a slice of cherry pie get pushed around by mean ol’ Toji, only to hang off my arm out the door. A little slutty, don’t’cha think?” He’s amusing himself, you can tell by the sound of his deep voice he’s got that wolfish grin on he wears so well. Wickedly, his reckless pace speeds up so you can’t form a response.

Your limp body has no choice but to move with him, rippling with each sheath into you. Poor cunt puffy and agitated around him as his mean cock brutalizes it some more. Tears sting your eyes but you can’t tell if they’re of pain or pleasure.

“T- Toji—“ you choke out, reaching back to finger timidly at his thighs. He won’t have it, picking himself up to a kneel so he can yank you back on him. Thumbs slot onto your dimples as fingers tuck between the folds of your pelvis and thighs. That perfect ass of yours smacking against him so hard, your skin pebbles and blushes.

“Huh?” he mocks. “What’s that? S’this the part where you lie and tell me you can’t handle it? Nah, little girl, I’m looking at the way this cunt’s slurpin’ me up. Fucking take it.”

[blorbocedes]

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Lewis & Jenson both shooting their shot with Nico and failing miserably, endgame slagclaren

"He double booked us, didn't he?" Jenson susses out, seeing Lewis in the romantic candlelit high-end resturant dinner table he was supposed to have with Nico. Well, now he looks proper silly showing up with a bouquet of roses.

Lewis isn't better off; dressed up in a black suit and clean shaven face, buzzed hair. A not so inconspicuous jewellery box wrapped in satin bow sits on the table. At least they're both cliche. Clearly, Nico has a type.

"That fucking—" Lewis shakes his head. "You too?"

Jenson shrugs in half sympathy. He pulls the chair to sit. Maybe there's a misunderstanding. Maybe Nico will show up and choose one of them, like out of The Bachelor. In which case, Jenson was simply forward thinking by bringing roses.

Lewis tries calling Nico, but Jenson knows it'll go straight to voicemail. He takes out one of the breadsticks from the complimentary basket and burns the edge on the candle's flame, watching it darken, before taking a bite. He may look like one, but he's no gentleman.

"Nico and his games." The elusive blonde that taunts them both and loves his mindgames. And to think, Jenson used to respect the bro-code once upon a time.

Lewis hangs up, frustrated. He looks across the table at Jenson's expectant eyebrow. "Look, man. I get it, Nico's playing you and we're going through our shit but at the end of the day it's gonna be him and me. It's always been."

Jenson leans forward. The candlelight warmth casts the romantic cast on Lewis' features, and his neck tattoo peeks out from under the shirt collar. He's always been a good-looking lad. Jenson can admit that. "Remind me, whose lap is he crying on when you two break up again? And trust me, mate, that's not all he's doing there." Jenson smiles wolfishly.

Lewis scowls, scrunching his face. He opens his mouth, as if to propose to take it out in the back lot and fuck, wouldn't Jenson love that? There's nothing quite like the high of getting your nose punched in. Nico would probably love it, both of them literally fighting over him.

At that moment, the server interrupts them holding a bottle. "A vintage red for you gentlemen, courtesy of Mr. Rosberg."

Of course.

Both of them straighten up, schoolboys on their best behavior as she pours their glasses. Jenson scans the tables looking for golden hair, and meets Lewis' eyes doing the same. Without meaning to, they both end up laughing, caught.

Lewis takes a sip. "Fuck, man." He shakes his head. "He drives me crazy."

"Tell me about it." Jenson swirls his glass, letting it aerate. Lewis' lips are a deeper shade of pink because of the wine, and his tongue darts out across that bottom lip. Jenson thinks they both probably taste the same right now. The wine of Nico's choice. The thought goes to his groin.

"What if we don't give him what he wants?" Jenson proposes.

"What do you mean?"

Jenson gives a very obvious once over at Lewis, slowly trailing his eyes down over the exposed second shirt button and flash of chest. "We've had some good times together. We've shared a bird between us before." And if their swords crossed, they didn't talk about it after. Jenson doesn't take it up the ass, but head is head.

"There's no girl now." Lewis cocks his head, suspicious. One can imagine what being with Nico can do to a man. Suddenly, Jenson feels a lot more amenable to ending this night in a way that is mutually beneficial, over both of them getting put out.

"No. There isn't." Jenson takes out the hotel key card and places it in between them, letting Lewis decide for himself. He's a big boy.

Lewis finishes his glass, and pours himself another. And then he pockets the card.

Ending the night on his knees with Lewis' length in his mouth, and hands in his hair surprisingly gentle, Jenson has to wonder if this was the outcome Nico had planned all along.

[onyourhyuck]

Sin & Obsession. | L.MK PART 2

— Prologue: “You sound even prettier when you’re asleep like this while you’re taking my cock inside your pretty pussy Y/n,” Mark’s voice comes off as silvery and fully rough grunts the more he thrusts you seem to clench even more and more. It drove Mark crazy. It was like a back and forth biting game. He came back for more and you kept leaving him become greedy for you. “You might be the death of me.” There might not be any salvation for Mark anymore because of you.

— Summary: You’re a faithful good girl. You attend church and you stay out of trouble. Mark is a guy that attends your church and what you don’t know is that he’s been obsessed with you for a while…

— Genre: Dark smut / Romance. Slight horror aspect (?) Mark Lee is a stalker. Mention of Christianity and faithfulness. Christian!Mark. Church mention. Mark is very much obsessed with Y/n. He stalks her. He has deep affection for Y/n but like super borderline I guess? Watching Y/n sleep. Breaking and entering Y/n’s house at night. Somnophillia(?) everything’s consensual. Dub-con. Y/n has a wet dream. Mark gets caught by the end of it. Praising and degrading at the same time. Y/n gets called a good whore like once.

— Notes: Pussy drunk Mark lessgo.

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Whatever happened that day when he entered your house without you knowing left Mark feeling even more needy for you. On the week days where he cannot see you he couldn’t forget that day and it leaves every night feeling more empty than usual. Mark was quite literally over the heels for you; he can’t eat. He can’t sleep. He can’t even breathe anymore without you being next to him or him seeing you. He just has to be now around you all the time and it’s getting difficult. Is this what happens when he finally had a taste of you but at the same time he didn’t get a proper taste? He was left wanting more. He’s just greedy for you and your time. He cannot coexist without you.

The next time Sunday arrives Mark enters the church greeting everyone. He tried his best to act normal and not tense unlike the feeling inside his stomach that was crunching him inside completely like he was nothing but a thin piece of paper. The moment his eyes saw you he felt his own panic take over and nearly murder him alive. He felt like he was going through all the flight and fight modes that his survival instincts were failing.

However he was completing what his heart was lacking. He took a moment to even deeply gaze over at your facial expression and such.

He looks completely stunned with you. Enough that it makes you look at him now and softly smile as you wave your hand over his face wondering why he was frozen like that.

“Hello? Mark is that right?” Your voice was as soft as silk and cotton. Mark bounces back to his reality now realising you’re speaking to him and he nods slowly but very slowly to the point he couldn’t find his voice for a second. “Yeah, Uhm that’s me last time I checked.” Mark was so beyond nervous and you could tell.

You found it to be almost endearing how nervous he was and you raise your eyebrow furrowing in confusion. He seems so confused as to why you’re speaking to him. Did you catch him staring at you? Oh that’s going to be a hard one to get out of. But thankfully you didn’t question why he was staring at you down like that instead you nod softly in his confusion. “You okay? You seem kind of nervous.” You now question.

He had no idea how you could read him so well but maybe it’s very obvious that he’s literally a trembling mess. He clears his voice with a little low chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. Mark wore a white shirt and his long black mullet hair makes him shine across the church if you’re being honest. He suits long hair so much. You couldn’t help but check him out a little. Why was he so nervous? It’s kind of cute though. He seems pretty shy with you speaking to him so suddenly, it’s very sudden. You hardly notice him when you’re in church.

But today you seem to notice him for some reason. “I’m just surprised you’re speaking to me.” Mark spoke out now truthfully. You show him a gentle look now. “Oh, I guess i just seem to find you today. Sorry if I haven’t been communicating much with you.” Mark couldn’t help but find you to be incredibly kind and forgiving even.

If only you knew what he did with your panties and in your closet. The image of you on the bed spread wide open with your legs. The beautiful sight of your pussy engraved his sight and he couldn’t help but imagine you and him together in bed. It’s so dirty. He shouldn’t be doing this in a church or when you’re speaking to him but he cannot block out your voice when you’re ready to moan or when you’re choking back a cry when you overstimulated yourself last week. The fact that Mark got away with this as well. It makes him full of hope that he could do this again and again; worst thing is that he doesn’t regret this at all. Mark would do it again if he could go back to the past and change it.

Nothing would be changed. Mark would do this again and try anything to relive that moment because he felt so connected at that time to you. In more ways than one.

Mark gulps when he looks downs at his feet on the ground. ‘God you’re imagining her naked right now snap out of it.’ He snaps at himself just by becoming so heavenly frustrated with you by standing there only. What’s wrong with him?

He can usually act normal or even hide this part of himself but now it’s proven to be very hard and he hates that. You’re making him lose his own heavy weight that’s burdening his shoulders and back. He felt his throat go dry as he stares back at you. Beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as well. The after image of him smelling your panties as he stroked himself to watching you masturbate was a forbidden memory he should keep down in his brain locked away forever.

“Mark what’s wrong? You’re burning up.” You suddenly exclaim as you reach your hand to brush on his cheek and forehead. He was burning in fact he looks bright red and the man couldn’t hide that as much as he tried.

In reality he wasn’t sick but he felt like you’re infecting him with everything you’re doing.

The people in the church look at Mark in worry and when you exclaimed loudly you reach your palm to touch his forehead again. He had a fever. But Mark was quick to say with his own firm point. “I’m fine, please, it’s okay.” He grabs your wrist slowly stopping you from trying to cool him down with the cold water bottle.

You watch Mark with a concerning amount of worry behind your eyes. Those eyes. Mark could never look away from them but he forced himself to and he puts your wrist back down as he bites his under cheek. “I’ll be fine. I must’ve just caught something small from the air:” he blames it on a flu or something flying around the air. The other people attending the church buy it.

But only you seem more worried now. Mark can’t help but wonder if you’re even believing him and his lies right now.

“Maybe you should go home?” You now suggest with your eyebrow corners squishing together. You want him to get some rest or something like that. He cannot attend church in this state you thought.

Mark clears his eyes with the back of his thumb as he lets out a quiet breath. “I don’t know… I’ve never skipped church before.” He trails now looking back at the people waiting for it to start and all.

You give him a soft smile. “You should go and take care of yourself first. I’m sure one day won’t hurt.” You’re right afterall. Mark should take care of himself and he happens to be agreeing with you now. “Alright… I’ll go.” He finally said giving into your idea and you were filled with the relief of watching Mark leaving.

You hope he gets better soon. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one day of church because of his health. Mark will make sure to make up for missing the service. When he starts to walk down the road leaving the building he begins to wonder; maybe he should go to your house? He had the sudden urge to do that again. And since you’re not going to be home it wouldn’t hurt to just go there again right? Mark at this point couldn’t stop his own legs from walking the direction to your house it’s like his own body walks on his very own like it’s got their mind put on the idea already.

He wonders what’s going to happen now. He feels warm and burning up just by the thought of going inside your house. He knows that you leave the back door unlocked from the last time he was there. He escaped through the back door.

You really should start locking your doors, Mark thought. It’s only going to get more dangerous if he keeps finding these open vulnerable places of your house.

When Mark made it behind your house, the man had to climb up the fence and then go through that way. When he met the back of your door leading inside to your house Mark opens it. He heard the doorknob click. It really was still open. The thought alone makes him quite scared and also excited — you really don’t lock your doors.

Mark cursed a little. “Y/n you’re a bit forgetful about locking your doors…” He should really scold you someday about this bad habit of yours. Mark enters the house and closed the door shut. He looks around the kitchen now in slight awe.

You have a tidy home. You’re quite clean and Mark feels like you put his home to shame with yours if you would compare both homes. You’re much more clean, much more organised. Meanwhile Mark’s home is in need a slight improvement. He should start doing daily cleans honestly. Mark can barely keep his home this clean that you have.

He found himself exploring every part of the house now that he couldn’t do last week, the first time he actually came in your home without your knowledge. He found out you like using rose petals in your baths. Mark smelled your shampoos and he even checked out the brand.

No wonder you smell so good all the time.

Then later on Mark felt quite tired and he decided to lay down in your bedsheets with a soft flip when his back was falling down on your bed softly. He groans when smelled your fresh bedsheets that quite literally smell of you only.

Mark could bathe in your scent if he could. If it was possible he would.

The bed felt so comfortable he eventually fell asleep for a little bit. Mark didn’t know what made him fall asleep so quick without him even remembering his eyelids closing but he did, and the man never felt so comfortable and safe in someone’s house before like this. You really were his safe place and you don’t even know it…

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The door shuffles open downstairs and that is what woke up Mark from his long nap. He was even surprised when he woke up the room was dark, covered with blackness only and that makes Mark shift on the bed automatically getting up and wondering the time.

When he checks over to your technology alarm on the bed stand it was nearly midnight. He fell asleep that long? And you haven’t came home at all until midnight?

Mark was sweating. He could’ve gotten caught if you came home early. The man shifts under your bed now to hide when he heard your footsteps on the stairway ready to open the door flung. When you enter you let out a tired sigh.

You seem tired, Mark thought. But why? What did you do that makes you so tired today. He couldn’t help but worry. He would want to ask you if you’re okay or anything like that but you seem almost… tired and wobbly whenever you walk.

Slowly moving around the room you start to undress taking off your clothes and changing into something more of pyjama comforts. You were so tired you didn’t even bother showering tonight so you decided you will shower in the morning and everything will fall into place of your routine.

But the reason you were so late outside and coming back home was because it was your older sister’s party for her thirty birthday. You couldn’t pass upon that and so you drank only a little to the point you were just a bit tipsy. You weren’t massive drunk. It wasn’t that bad. But you certainly were tired so you fell on the bed now tucking yourself in and you didn’t even bother to wash your face off or anything. Your body needed sleep.

Some time passed since now you fell asleep and Mark decided it’s safe to get out of your bed underneath where he hid. Mark slowly stands up and he makes sure to be very quiet walking with his tip toes now.

The boy however felt mesmerised seeing you asleep like this. You felt like an angel when you’re sleeping so openly with your arms tucked under the pillows with your face buried between them and your beautiful long hair flowing through your body as you sleep wearing your pyjamas that fit your beautiful figure too.

Mark couldn’t help but stop and stare.

You are like a mirror. You catch his attention effortlessly. You pull him in and make him check you out like this all the time. If you were a real life mirror he wouldn’t even stop staring at you. Mark follows his body silhouette throughout the dark room. It was darkness only a little over you could use the moonlight as your only torch source to move around. Mark managed to sit by the edge of your bed. He could stay like this forever only watching you sleep. He feels a bit creepy doing this.

Surely it is a little creepy but Mark would reassure you he’s not going to do anything weird. He just wants to stare at your face as you sleep. Mark felt safe around you. There’s always been something about your energy that makes his inner child feel warm and so on.

Mark smile when he saw your face turn on the pillow now laying flat on your body as your arms wrap themselves around your stomach and the other was under the pillow still where it was cold. When he saw something your sleeping wear did; the shirt reveals your stomach out to his eyes now.

He wonders what you’re wearing now, but it turns out you were only wearing a shirt. He gulps when your legs took off the covers now which made Mark feel very perverted by seeing you now half naked. It’s not like he didn’t see you naked last week but this time it’s different. He’s literally in front of you now. Mark was sitting on the edge of your bed seeing your red panties and just a small top on you covering your bra-less chest. He could see your nipples through the fabric. It was now all so tempting.

The man swallows roughly as he feels your hips shuffle forward and he slowly leans just a little bit closer now. He was on top of you brushing his hand across your jawline and he feels his heart pound like a tractor now.

It felt so tempting. Why are you always tempting him? Mark was so excited but so scared and he felt embarrassed knowing this is wrong on many levels. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of you when you’re in a sleeping state unaware of him being there but he cannot help it now when you let out a soft moan in your sleep.

Mark furrows his eyebrows watching your beautiful resting expression. You moaned?

You couldn’t help but wonder in your dream. Mark saw that you’re now simply having an erotic experience in your own dreamland and that makes the situation even more slinging to Mark knowing he cannot control himself when you moan so softly in your quiet sleeping voice. He gulps when now he brushed his hand over your panty line and rolls down his middle finger across your clothed clit. It made you hum as you stayed asleep.

Mark cursed to his selfish ways quietly. “Fuck…Y/n tell me to stop already.” He was so wishful begging you to wake up knowing he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Mark slowly takes off his belt and other items he wore now.

He was asking the Lord to give him a sign to stop already. He was asking for forgiveness for what he’s about to do and so on; Mark gives his cock a few good strokes and then he lets his free hand pushing in two fingers very slowly to stretch your beautiful pussy out as you were in such deep sleep he was surprised you did not wake up from his gentle and slow thrusts.

You’re quite literally rocking against his movements but you were asleep unaware of all of this. It felt so forbidden to be doing this but at the same time, the forbidden stuff felt so right on so many levels. Mark couldn’t stop himself now because the more your moan increased and he pulls away you whined softly at the empty space in your walls. Mark groans stopping when he stroke himself for a final time.

Mark took in your beautiful expression when he leans down and positioned his erected cock as he gentle groans now that your entrance has began sucking Mark’s shaft already into your insides. You were practically screaming at him to fuck you. Mark can see it on your expression now that your eyebrows fell into an angle scrunching up on your face. The pleasure was making you very much needy. He saw your nose crinkle on your face the more his length was pushing in very slowly now as the stretching motion was increasing and getting so much more deeper and tighter. Your hole was so desperate to be able to grow more and more with his cock. Mark felt like this was a heavenly experience. It couldn’t be explained even if he could. Mark hung his head low for a few minutes as he takes a while to adjust and bring himself to reality.

He couldn’t believe he was so deep inside you and he hasn’t even thrusted in yet. You’re already making a lot of noises and he was worried for a second you’re going to wake up. However, Mark noticed your eyes were shut deep and the pleasure was aligning themselves to your dream you are experiencing. The wet dream must’ve been very good because he saw you react fondly when his hips now lift themselves up a little and slowly pull his cock out so he can thrust inside your body, starting to slowly move.

The pleasure. The intense excitement was there you couldn’t quite grasp the fact that your body was being used in such ways now by Mark. He gawks at every thrust now trying to be quiet and all of his noises were made into low pants as the frequency of his thrusts with his cock keeps on forging deep inside you like you and him were becoming a compound. You’re now as one and this is the first time Mark could ever imagine the taste of you. He was shocked and it still felt like a dream to him.

He dreamt of this every night for so long, many months now. Mark was probably thinking something along the lines that this was a given opportunity surely. Mark never imagined you to be here letting him fuck you out on your bed as you’re asleep and you haven’t woke up once even though his thrusts have been growing rougher and more faster. His pace was the one thing your body was fighting against. You were taking every pleasure his hips stroke out for you.

You whirled around the bed with each thrust letting your head sink deeper into the pillow case sheets as your nose was breathing unsteady and heavily. Your eyes roll back as you were in a deep state of dreaming. It felt like a lucid dream in a way. Your wet dream and the reality felt too connected like one together. Mark pivoted his hips against your waist as his hands roam your chest with his eyes going down to seeing your two breasts.

When the shirt lifts and the cold air hits your skin a little because your body was going through a warm overload. Mark becoming a part of you inside was creating you to have heat flashes. The pleasure became your own.

“You’re such a good whore for me Y/n, letting me do this to you…” He praised you as you slept while you’re sleeping so beautiful right here taking everything he is giving.

He leans down only to suck on your beautiful pinkish darkish nipples putting them in his mouth as he lays down his chest against your stomach and now he was quickly pushing deep inside you with every force he has. You let out croaking moans now as your spine arched on the surface of your bed you are laying on. The mattress creaks a little now that Mark looks like he is losing his self control.

Every bit of control he has. Every bit of moral compass he has was gone.

Mark groans playing with your nipples with his soft grazing teeth. He managed to pinch your nipples with his front two teeth which makes you exhale out heavily out a hiss.

He looms closer up at your face seeing your expression as you hissed when he pleasured you by the teeth pulling on your sensitive nipples. He enjoys watching you react so fondly and actively.

Mark couldn’t help but think this was going to be the death of him now that he has a taste of you he wasn’t sure what he is capable of next. He’s literally fucking your asleep body. And it feels good for the both of you but he can’t help but wish you were awake. Mark wants you to see and know who’s pleasuring you so good.

He wants you to know who claimed you. The beautiful sight of your figure while his deep solid cock was so hard within you makes his mind to take a photographic memory of this. “You sound even prettier when you’re asleep like this while you’re taking my cock inside your pretty pussy Y/n,” Mark’s voice comes off as silvery and fully rough grunts the more he thrusts you seem to clench even more and more. It drove Mark crazy. It was like a back and forth biting game. He came back for more and you kept leaving him become greedy for you. “You might be the death of me.” There might not be any salvation for Mark anymore because of you.

There’s no religion that can save Mark now from what you’re doing to him.

You glimmer your voice that becomes hushed when Mark leans in slowly to kiss you now that he was gaining a closer understanding of his own body that takes shape inside you. His cock was twitching with every thrust and clench you give him and your body was trembling with every breath and force of energy you have. Your sleeping state was beautiful underneath him as if you’re letting him do everything he wanted with you.

The kiss overtakes your mind consciously and you frown in the kiss as you feel your dream becoming stuck. You couldn’t help but notice that your reality was shaking and breaking like a mirror to shattering pieces as you kiss back.

The kiss felt so real to you and Mark kissed you as deeply as he can in hopes you wake up right now. He wants you to look and see him with your own eyes even though it was risky. Mark couldn’t help but want you to wake up at him once as he’s on top of you like this with you in his arms and him inside you so deeply it’s not even possible. Your guts felt as good as he could dream but nothing quite like he imagined. It’s better than he ever could think to imagine.

Mark felt you nibble his bottom lip as your teeth brush against the kiss now that you’re kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. It felt so good you’re not even sure who you are kissing but it feels real. You’re not sure if this is a dream or not either.

And as your kiss takes you to places; Mark’s body pivots down at you thrusting the very few seconds he has before he feels himself unfold in your own body. He groans against the deep kissed you gave him and it felt like you’re about to wake up too. Mark grunts lowly. “Oh fuck… Y/n…” He breathes seething a deep sense of what’s happening.

Mark’s jaw tightens as he groans the last bit of voice he has when he finally pushed him last time while his hands roughly shake down your hips and you cause to arch and spasms as you’re laying underneath him so senselessly fucked out. You let out long syllabus of moans that cannot be comprehended. Even your words were a mixture between wails and beautiful cries of your own pleasure as you felt your own orgasm wash over your dream and reality you start to think and witness the darkness of your room. Even the pleasure made your vision very low and dizzy. You couldn’t see much everything you saw was like a blur but you felt everything so clearly. You couldn’t see but you can feel the immense pleasure it was far too good to forget and pass upon. You never knew you could wake up to such a good feeling.

It felt almost real, you thought.

Mark bit his bottom lip deeply enough to draw small blood to detail on his mouth. The earth stops spinning for him as his own orgasm was reaching the peak and when it did the whole body began to twitch. He saw how much you’re effected by this and he loves seeing you ruin yourself on his dick like this. Mark runs his palm over your bare stomach feeling how deep he was in you his dick was leaving an imprint you will forever remember.

He was so far deep in you that when he released his load inside you he couldn’t help but slowly thrust once more to fuck it inside you again so none slip out. Mark couldn’t help it when the urge to see you full of him within you drove Mark crazy like he was possessed by the idea of you becoming inflated by his own seed.

Your vision went black when he thrust only to fuck his own personal cum inside you deep and you held your mouth with your palm now. You’re waking up pretty much soon now and Mark heard your tiny voice come out. “Ahh…shit…” you murmur now as you couldn’t even see within the darkness but you felt the hands of someone holding you.

Your slender arms on the side held onto his shirt even though you couldn’t quite make up who it was as you felt your vision getting darker again. You lay back down grunting softly when you feel him pull out.

And then you feel Mark softly hush you. You couldn’t recognise the voice but it felt so familiar to you too. Mark leans in kissing your forehead now as you close back your eyes.

He coos you to fall asleep again. “It’s okay, go to sleep Y/n…” and somehow you found his voice to be very soothing and full of love. You couldn’t help but do exactly as he told you to. You went back to your sleep and Mark found himself falling deep in love with you when he saw your peaceful expression return.

Somehow you now have a smile on your face. It seems like you enjoyed the pleasure and as much as he is still shocked him you kissed him back so much. Mark will never forget that kiss.

Mark feels himself slowly push himself back up in the sitting position as he motions his hands together. He looks down at his hands then he looks back at you. “You’re my Sin and Obsession, Y/n.”

What happened today he wonders what his consequences will be of doing what he did to you now.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you. Please Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (X) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N faces the music and has a talk with Harry. Yule Break rolls around and Regulus makes a breakthrough.

Part IX / Part XI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Little cliffhanger, oops. Also, yes, we are making progress towards learning the truth (more portrait lore, yay).

The watch stands for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match were brimming in excitement, the student body’s energy revitalized by the appointment of Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper. Standing next to Hermione, you can’t help the exhilaration that swims through your veins, glad that there was a buffer in the grim mood that shadowed over the school year. 

The sharp fweet of Madam Hooch’s whistle signals the start of the match, and enthusiastic shouts begin to erupt from all around you. These cheers only grew in volume as Ron’s flawless performance became apparent to all the watchers. 

You hadn’t realized your friend was this good.

As if reading your thoughts, Hermione leans over to you as Ron manages to knock away the quaffle again, “Harry dosed him with Felix Felicis during breakfast.” 

Quirking your head at the revelation, your eyes follow Ginny’s zipping figure around the field, thoroughly impressed by both Weasleys�� playing. 

“Somehow I doubt that. Harry’s sweet, but he’s not wasteful. There are better things to use the concoction on, no?” Hermione doesn’t respond to your words, but you feel her shift at the implications of them, likely agreeing. 

If your friend group were leading ordinary lives, using Felix Felicis on arbitrary things like Quidditch matches would be fine, if not expected, but with Voldemort lurking about, the liquid could probably be put to better use. 

As the game continues on, you’re hardly surprised when Gryffindor begins to lead by a landslide before ultimately coming out victorious. As everyone explodes in celebration, you quickly slink away from the boisterous crowd, not quite in a partying mood. You had heard Dean talking before the match, and he had mentioned that the party would be open to any house–though, you didn’t suspect many Slytherins would attend anyway.

You figured that the celebration would drag on for hours on end which gave you quite some time to wander without peering eyes.

Roaming the grounds of the castle for a while, you feel lonelier than usual, not having Regulus in your pocket. Despite the boy’s history as a quidditch player himself, he opted to remain in your dorm, stating that he needed peace and quiet. You couldn’t fault him, the both of you were feeling unnerved with every passing day as Harry seemed to pointedly avoid the topic of Regulus’ existence. 

A part of you hoped that he perhaps forgot about the whole ordeal or thought it to be trivial, but you knew he was likely just busy with trying to con Slughorn. 

Feeling the chill of the weather bite at your fingers, you decide to make your way back inside the castle. As you quietly pad through the halls, you’re shaken from your thoughts as a deep voice echoes around the walls, “L/N. Surprised to see you here.” 

Spinning around, you see a familiar figure walking towards you with a small smirk. The faint sag in his shoulders was the only indication that he was fatigued from the quidditch match. 

“Zabini. Shouldn’t you be off sulking with the rest of the Slytherin team?” Your words are tinged with amusement and you spin back around, knowing that the boy would eventually catch up to you. 

As you round the corner, Blaise manages to fall into step with you, “Moping has never been a strong suit of mine.” 

“I suppose tantrums would mar that whole quintessential gentility image you have going on. What about comfort? Is that something you’re adept with?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were hoping to achieve from the conversation, but becoming familiar with the Slytherin may prove beneficial in the future. 

Blaise lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, “Are you asking me to console you, L/N?” 

“Forget me, you’re not really my type. It’s your little peacock who seems awfully peaky as of late. He nearly bit my head off in the library the other day.” You roll your eyes, recalling the strange encounter you had with the Malfoy heir. 

The boy was acting awfully suspicious.

Blaise seems to straighten up at your words, eyes flickering quickly around the hall as he understands your insinuation, “Draco can take care of himself.” 

“If you’re sure.” Your words come out just above a whisper, and you’re left to your thoughts as Blaise seems content with just walking in silence. 

Not minding the boy’s presence, you began to think about possible avenues of research you could explore to try and solve the mystery of Regulus’ existence, wanting to find answers for not only yourself, but Regulus as well. Merlin, how the boy wasn’t mad for answers was beyond you. 

A few moments pass before you’re struck with a thought that has you pausing in your tracks. Blaise is quick to follow, turning to look at your contemplative expression, “Should I be worried that you’re plotting my murder, L/N?” 

“Quite the contrary, Zabini. How do you feel about making these meetings a regular thing?” Your smile is only a tad inscrutable, but you can see the interest glinting brightly in the boy’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re not interested in me, L/N? I wouldn’t fault you if you were.” His words have you rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the victorious feeling that bloats in your stomach as you see him let his guard down. 

“Really, you’re not my type. I’m just asking if you want to be…friends, I guess you could say.” You try to plaster on the most companionable smile you can manage. Come on Zabini, accept the olive branch.

Blaise hums in thought before turning around, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to ignore your request. Following him quickly, Blaise tosses you a small smile before replying, “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what your type is since we’re friends now.”  

You breathe out a small laugh, “Hard to describe, but let’s just say I have a thing for men that are a bit emotionally constipated. A touch of cynicism and awkward affection never hurt anyone either.” It was hard to put into words, but Regulus had a certain way of jarring you everyday, and his occasional niceties always had your stomach fluttering wildly. Not to mention your bloody patronus was all thanks to him. 

“A certain slytherin, then?” Blaise’s words come out light, but you can see the wild interest flying around in his gaze. 

Shaking your head, you can only sigh at the boy’s quick thinking, “How’d you know?” 

“Well, no one is better than me, but I suppose a fellow Slytherin is acceptable. Also, your ring. Two snakes? Subtle.” Your eyes shoot down to the ring you’ve been subconsciously twirling on your finger, and you gape at Blaise’s amused expression. 

Before you can respond, you’re both distracted by the sight of Harry and Hermione. The pair are sat at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione clearly upset over something, while Harry was trying his best to silently comfort her. Shooting an apologetic glance at the Slytherin, you’re met with a hum of understanding before he’s walking off. 

“See you around, Y/N.” 

As you wave at the Slytherin’s retreating figure, you see Harry shoot you a confused look. 

Great, another topic of conversation we need to discuss. 

Walking over to the pair, you crouch down in front of Hermione, whose eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying. 

“What happened, ‘Mione? Do I need to hex someone?” Hermione’s only response is a watery laugh before she’s wiping furiously at her eyes and nose. 

You look to Harry for an answer and he winces before quietly answering, “Ron and Lavender.” 

Well. That’s an unexpected pair. 

“Shall I kill the both of them?” Your voice comes out completely flat and serious, but it’s enough to have Hermione smiling down at you before seemingly calming herself. 

“It doesn’t matter. He can be with whomever he wants.” She is quick to jump up from her spot, “Now, I’ll see you both before dinner then?”

Without waiting for a verbal reply, Hermione clambers up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you alone with Harry. The boy simply juts his chin at the newly empty spot beside him, looking at you with poorly veiled anticipation. 

Slowly lowering yourself down next to him, you both stare straight ahead in silence. It seems like hours pass as you both sit on the cold stone steps, hoping that the other would speak first. 

Harry slowly reaches for his wand, casting a quiet muffliato, before speaking, “So, Regulus Black.” 

“Yeah.” You nod slowly and fiddle with your ring, unable to bring yourself to say much more unprompted. 

Harry swallows harshly before continuing, “It wasn’t a photo, was it? I thought about it some more, and he was a portrait.” He turns his head slightly and chances a glance at you, “Right?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in contemplation, unsure of how to respond to his remark without accidentally word-vomiting. 

“Cats out of the bag, I guess.” Your voice is weak, but you feel relieved when Harry looks over and smiles at you. Good to know he doesn’t hate you.

“Sirius doesn’t know.” It isn't a question, but rather a statement–one that has you hesitantly nodding. 

You lean your head down on his shoulder tiredly, mumbling out a small excuse, “Reggie wasn’t ready. We were figuring some things out for ourselves for a while, and he has this annoying gap in his memory that I’m trying to learn more about.” 

“Reggie?” You feel Harry turn his head down to peer at you, “Okay. Uhm, you don’t have to tell me everything now, but maybe when he’s up for it, you can bring him round to Sirius?” 

Tugging your jacket tighter around your curled form, you nod against his shoulder before whispering a small thanks to the boy. It wasn’t the lengthy exchange you were expecting, but you weren’t upset about how it went. Actually, this was probably the best case scenario. 

“So…Blaise?” His words are teasing and you’re surprised that he’s not accusing you of colluding with the boy, especially given how suspicious he’s been of Draco. 

Groaning at the implications of his words, you shake your head fervently, “Absolutely not. We’re just friends, kinda. Honestly, he’s not so bad and I’m hoping that it can be a mutually beneficial friendship. Blaise’s mother has connections spanning the entirety of Europe, and I’m hoping that maybe I can learn some more about Regulus’ predicament if I get some help.” 

“I see. If not Blaise, then Regulus?” Harry’s finger pokes into your ribs as he tries to fight the wide grin pulling at his lips. 

“What?” Your voice comes out strained, but bewildered and it has Harry smiling cheekily. 

“Well, he is quite handsome isn’t he?” Harry pauses before continuing, “Not as handsome as Sirius, though.” 

Shaking your head, you respond woefully, “I will absolutely be telling him you said that. But is there something you want to tell me? I thought you were tripping over your own feet for Ginny?” 

Harry emits a loud groan and gently shoves you to the side, ears flushing beet red. You laugh at your friend’s disgruntled expression and bask in the happy moment, satisfied that you lifted his spirits up. 

The following weeks spin by in a blur, and you’re barely able to take the time to appreciate how uneventful it was. It was the night before Yule Break and you were draped over one of the library tables, head pressed against the cool wood as mountains of scrolls and parchments surrounded your motionless figure. 

You had packed away your things the night before, excited to spend the break with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place (of course, you secretly had your own agenda). Harry was planning on heading to the Burrow for the second half of the break, which would leave you to attend to the recovering Black Lord by your lonesome. 

Hopefully, you could enlist the help of Remus so you could sneak away and explore. 

‘Have you died, little bird?’ Regulus’ voice is airy as it rings in your head. 

‘Unfortunately not. Mind putting me out of my misery?’ The sudden exchange has you peeling your heavy eyes open to stare at a blank parchment next to your head. Your bleary vision slowly warps and dances before focusing. 

‘You’ll have more than enough time to finish work over the break. Go rest unless you wish to miss the train tomorrow morning.’ 

‘I won’t miss it, I have you, my little alarm clock.’ Your tone is sickly sweet, and you could almost feel the way Regulus rolls his eyes at your words. Though, you supposed he was right, it would do you little good to be sleep-deprived on the first day of break. 

Beginning to sort through the mayhem of papers on the table, you barely hear his response, ‘It is truly unfortunate that I am unable to dump water on you then.’ 

‘How gauche, Reg. Besides, you wouldn’t. You love me too much.’ 

Reg doesn’t even pause before he retorts, ‘I’m keen on tough love.’ 

‘Not my observation, you’re a big teddy bear.’ Your smile doesn’t falter, even when you hear footsteps echoing nearby. 

‘A little ironic coming from a bleeding heart.’ 

‘Oh hush, don’t act like it runs for anyone other than you.’ You feel your face heat up at the admission, realizing that it was the farthest you’ve ever gotten at verbalizing your feelings. 

‘I suppose we both make exceptions for each other, birdie.’ 

His words have your face blossoming in warmth, and your hand pauses to hover over your bag. The drumming of your heart failed to cease even as you laid down on your bed later that night. In fact, it only grew worse when Regulus shot you a teasing smile as you rolled over to peer at his portrait. 

Merlin.

The start to your Yule Break was confusing to say the least. 

It was merely your first day back at Grimmauld Place and a sudden swelling of magical energy coming from your pocket had you frantically pacing back and forth in the disappearing room.

Regulus’ portrait had suddenly thrummed with wound up magic the moment Sirius stalked over to give you a firm hug as you settled into the home. The reaction was almost instantaneous, with Sirius even drawing back in confusion, having felt something faintly draw at his magical energy. 

You were quick to make an excuse to run up the top floor, practically barreling through the familiar door once you caught sight of the crystal knob. 

Regulus was currently propped up on the dresser, eyes glazed over as he remained unresponsive. You could feel Sirius’ magic wrapping around the frame and interlacing with the faint magic emitting from the object, only further piquing your curiosity.  

After a few more rounds of circling the room, you’re dragged from your pool of thoughts at the sound of Regulus’s voice. 

“Birdie.” It comes out strained, like he was still trying to sort out his thoughts. 

You practically fly over to the aged furniture, pressing your hands against the edge of the dark wood in worry, “Reg. Are you okay? What happened? Should I do something?” 

Regulus smiles softly at the flurry of questions, curls shaking as he tilts his head, “One question at a time. But yes, I’m alright. As for what happened…that’s a bit more convoluted.” 

“It’s okay, take your time. Sirius thinks that I’m off organizing my classwork anyway,” You drawl quietly. 

“Good thinking, my brother was always amusingly frightened by academic diligence.” Regulus’ musing has you propping your elbows on the dresser, keen on allowing the boy to guide the conversation. 

“Frightened he may be, but I think he’s fond of me now that he knows I’ve saved his life, twice.” You raise two fingers and wiggle them for emphasis, managing to nick a small grin from Regulus. 

“I remembered something. When Sirius hugged you, it seemed to dismantle some kind of block in my memory.” Regulus’ words come out dryly, but he’s still smiling at you like you hung the stars in the sky. 

You feel your eyes widen at his words, “That’s fantastic, Reg!” You pause before leaning back, “Right? That’s good, right?” 

The boy nods, before he sweeps a hand to push back his curls, “It’s amazing. Overwhelming, but amazing. It’s just, with the block gone, I remember everything. Including that two week gap before my death.” 

Your breath hitches, “So, human-Regulus put the block into place then?” 

Regulus nods slowly in confirmation, “Yes. Why he did it though still remains a little fuzzy to me. As of now, I only really can make sense of a few details, mostly about the Dark Lord.”

Your lips part as you try to formulate a coherent sentence, but you’re too surprised by the revelation to say anything, so Regulus continues, “Birdie, the Dark Lord was creating horcruxes. That’s likely how I met my demise. I remember it. Shortly before I–human-me disappeared, he was frantic over it.”

“Horcruxes?” The word feels bitter on your tongue, but you fall short on an answer for what it might mean, “I haven’t heard of such a thing before. Do you reckon that Harry has?”

“I think so. If not him, then Dumbledore might have an inkling of suspicion.” Seeing your questioning gaze, Regulus sighs and lifts his eyes to meet yours, “I’m not too familiar with what a horcrux is exactly, but I do know it’s a horrifically dark artifact. One capable of splitting someone’s soul through means of murder.” 

“Soul splitting? That sure has ‘Voldemort’ written all over it.” Your breathy laugh does nothing to relieve the sudden pressure in your chest, realizing that Voldemort was much more than just a psychotic wizard deluded by prophecies. 

Shaking your head, you force your anxiety aside, “It’s okay. If Dumbledore has an idea of it, then maybe there’s still a chance after all. Let’s skip over this right now, it’ll do us no good to spoil Yule so early. We can approach Harry about it after the break.” 

Regulus slowly nods, he too, investing his hopes in the eclectic headmaster, “Alright. There is something else I remember. I don’t know as much about it though since human-me was a bit hush hush on the subject. That, or he thought it wasn’t worth indulging after the whole horcrux news.” You bite down a laugh as Regulus rolls his eyes at the thought.

“Oh? Do tell.” You lean forward on your toes, pressing your weight fully on the dresser. 

“It might be in one of the boxes here. It’s some kind of rare book or journal that my Uncle Alphard gifted to me the year everything fell into chaos,” Regulus relays. 

Perking up, you quickly shuffle over to the dusty boxes in the middle of the room, bent on finding out what the boy was talking about. As you rifled through the endless pool of miscellaneous items, your fingers suddenly bump against a leathery surface at the bottom of a particular buried box. 

Fishing out the promising item, you let out a triumphant cry as you hold the book up in the air, “Reggie, is it this one?” You clamber off the floor and practically thrust the tome into the portrait. 

“Bingo. Good job, little bird.” Regulus’ words are colored in excitement and you’re reluctant to take away the book to read the title, knowing that Regulus was eager to look at the book as well. 

Slowly, you retract the item and flip it over, reading the words etched across the dusty orange cover. 

Fuck.

“It’s in Norwegian!” Your cry of dismay has Regulus raising his eyebrows. 

Seeming to take pity on your defeated form, which was slowly sinking onto the floor again, Regulus quickly comes up with a solution, “Birdie, just use a translation charm.” 

“Oh. Right.” You frown lightly at the realization, profusely apologizing to Professor Flitwick under your breath. Some Charms maven, you were.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You should go eat something, I can feel your brain fog from here,” Regulus’ teasing only draws a groan from your slumped form. 

Whipping out your wand, you cast a quiet reducio at the book, thankful that the disappearing room seemed to block out the trace on your wand. You were careless when you first shrank Regulus’ portrait before fifth year, forgetting about the underage magic trace, but luckily the Ministry never owled you a letter of warning. 

Tucking away Regulus and the leather book in your pockets, you swiftly make your way out of the room and down the dimly lit stairs, hands reaching to rub your empty stomach. One thing you didn’t miss during your times at Grimmauld Place was the lack of proper food. Kreacher could cook decently when he wanted to, but he never really seemed to spare an effort when Sirius asked. 

As you enter the threshold of the kitchen, you see a delighted Harry seated at one end of the table, and a flabbergasted Sirius at the other end. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Your voice interrupts the silent conversation they were having, with Harry turning to face your approaching figure. 

In spite of Harry’s active attention, it’s Sirius who speaks up, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiles widely, “Prongslet was just telling me about his success in Potions.” 

You nod enthusiastically at the reminder, “Harry is on his way to a Potions Mastery at this rate. Slughorn is practically yodeling his praises.” Your words have Harry rolling his eyes, but Sirius seems even more pleased at the reaction. 

Clapping your hands on Harry’s shoulders, you bring up a pressing matter to the men, “Now, how about we continue this chat over lunch, I’m starved.” 

The next few days of your break are spent following a routine of reading the tome, eating with Harry and Sirius, and surprisingly, exchanging letters with Blaise. 

The Italian heir was quite entertaining to communicate with, even through letters. You both established an unusual bond, and you found yourself finding common ground with him over your interests in dissecting anachronistic pureblood traditions. Blaise was surprisingly progressive about a lot of the political issues that wracked Britain, having grown up in Italy for a long while. 

Apparently British purebloods were the only ones on the upkeep about blood purity. 

You had spent about four days at Grimmauld Place before Harry was off sending a letter to the Burrow, notifying the Weasleys of his approaching visit. 

You were a bit dispirited to have him leaving so soon, but you knew he was eager to see Hermione and Ron (and Ginny, but he would likely send a stinging jinx at you for saying as much). 

It was the day after Harry had left when you decided to do your research more openly, knowing that Sirius had little concern about what books you were reading. As you progressed in your studying of the Norwegian tome, you realized that the book was concerned with discussions and theories on magical essences and their temperament, which was interesting to say the least. 

You could feel it. The truth behind Regulus’ portrait was somewhere in this book.

Though you knew very little about the capabilities of magical essences, you realized that you were much more in tune with reading and feeling other wizard’s magic, so if anyone could figure it out, it would be you. No, it had to be you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want to tag along with Prongslet, kid?” Sirius’ voice has you raising your head from your reading, the man casually propping his feet on the opposite end of the table. 

“If I’m not here, who will look after you, old man?” You mused. 

Sirius huffs in indignation, “I’m not some pallid geriatric. I’ll be fine on my own. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be off with Molly? I know it’s not my cooking that’s keeping you here.” 

“If you keep complaining, I just might regret my decision. But nah, I like it here. Plus the Burrow is too loud to get work done.” You droned as you brought your gaze back to the text in front of you. 

“Your head is always halfway down a book, kid. You know…you remind me a lot of my brother, he was a huffy scholar growing up.” Sirius’ voice is even, but as you flicker your eyes up to meet his, you can see the undeniable grief lingering in them. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat, “Your brother? Were you guys close?” 

You already knew the answer, having been given a brief rundown of Regulus’ homelife sometime ago during a sleepless night at Hogwarts. 

“Merlin, no. Not when we were older at least. But he used to follow me around as kids, toddling after me with his cherub cheeks and wobbly knees. Admittedly, he was adorable as a youngster. Never had anyone look up to me like he did…then my parents sunk their claws into him.” Sirius seems to be reminiscing more to himself now, words growing quieter with each passing second. 

“Do you miss him?” Your question is barely above a whisper. 

Sirius raises his eyes to study you for a few moments before somberly tapping his knuckles against the table, “Everyday.” 

Reaching into your pocket, you wrap your fingers around the familiar frame, looking back down at the table in contemplation. 

‘Reg...’ 

‘It’s okay.’ Regulus’ words are quiet, his voice sounding choked up. You could tell he was touched and relieved by his brother’s words, unable to hide just how much he missed the man. 

With his approval, you decide to take the leap, “Sirius, I think there’s something you should know about.” 

The man’s eyebrows raise at your words and he leans forward in interest. You inhale shakily as you steel yourself, confidence wavering as different scenarios flurried around in your head. 

Before you can unveil the truth, however, a blast of blue light bursts through the wall and makes its way to the center of the table. 

A stag. 

The appearance of Harry’s familiar patronus has your blood running cold and you leap up from your seat, seeing Sirius slowly rise from his, as well. 

“The Burrow has been attacked. Voldemort knows.” 

The patronus dissipates, and you suddenly can't breathe.

He knows.  

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @anni1309-blog @summer-noir @mikeikax @mysticlockwood-ig @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua

[ronearoundblindly]

Zones and Photography for Fools Rush In! Steve. Preferably pre-nomad 😆

I read every update of yours as soon as I get the notification. Keep up the good work. You are amazing <333333

From this dirty ask game but okay, wait, I hope I'm understanding this correctly.

Fools Rush In!Steve is post-canon--he's a version of Steve that came back after replacing the Stones from Endgame,--so technically, he already went through his actual Nomad years. I'm gonna have to assume you me pre-Dignity of His Choice (since that's when he kinda looks like Nomad or Ari Levinson whoops again) which is fine because after all of Dignity's angst, I'm sure people are afraid of where that leaves us--terrible of me to leave y'all hanging so long, sorry. OH CRAP! Welp. This is gonna have some spoilers sorta kinda for the honeymoon fic in the works...Yes, Ro, but when will we ever get that f***ing thing???

So. Right. Here we go! Sorry, but MINORS DNI for these still.

woahhhhh omg he glows so pretty 🫠🤤

Z - Zones

Oh boy, oh boy!

Is it hot in here??? Just me? Sure. That checks out.

Steve has diminished sensitivity after the serum. It makes him stronger to feel less pain, but it's slightly more difficult in nearly ever other aspect of life. He feeds his tactile experience with the acuity of his enhanced senses. Ever heard the expression 'eating with your eyes?' Like that.

The sight of you, the smell of you, what you sound like, how you taste, these are all things he can absorb to fill in the gaps of his touch.

Now, the caveat? He's not a fucking idiot. He can tell if you are kissing, biting, scratching, or gripping him. He knows these are things you do for your enjoyment as well, so that fuels his entertainment during sex. After a whole lot of wallowing over how disconnected he felt without sensitivity, he understands this actually brings you two closer together because pleasure and intimacy is truly a shared experience.

Uh. Also. His neck. No judgment but he can hear and smell you very well if you pay attention to his neck. That's pretty great. He likes that.

P - Photography

Honestly, I just want to burst out laughing even imagining Steve taking a dick pic much less sending it 🤣 If he did do something like that, it would be an accident, and that boi would rush into some lab and insist there was a super secret mission to completely delete the contents of your phone before you opened it. I feel like he'd be lucky if he didn't just smash the phone itself out of panic. Seriously, I'M IN TEARS. Just no, hard no on the sending nudes.

I also think he'd be super worried about privacy if you sent them. The idea is sound, and it's not like he wouldn't enjoy them. Steve doesn't trust technology that much though, so not digital. Analog. Old school is the way to go. Which bring us to this cheeky bastard on his honeymoon with Keeps.

Enjoy this excerpt I've sat on for a year!

“What’s that?” “Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.” He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you. “Thought they’d be nice for the trip.” You weigh it in your hands and eye the Polaroid then switch with Steve. “That’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag. As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around. Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your camera and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans. He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead. He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle. “Yes, out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke. “It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Also, lest we forget, Steve has an incredible memory. He does not need footage to remember exactly what it looks like when his cock is slowly dragging in and out of you, or how your ass jiggles as he ::cough:: enthusiastically fucks makes love to you ::cough::

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

SKETCH, MY BELOVED...

[pars-ley]

The Drabble game seems fun!!

✨Jackson

🖤Enemies to lovers

✨prompt # 8

A lil angsty & smutty pls!

Congrats on 800 🎉

Title: Just like magic Pairing: Jackson Wang x (f) reader Summary: You and your colleague have never got on, he irritates you more than anyone you know, and especially when you attend a work event to announce your imminent promotion. But what happens when you're not prepared for the unexpected. Genre: Enemies to lovers / idiots to lovers / colleagues to lovers / office romance / one shot / angst / smut Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) / breast play / finger play (f. recieving) / heavy making out / Explicit language / cumshot W/C: 4.7k Banner: me Beta: @flurrys-creativity you're the best cheerleader ever! Notes: Thank you to this anon, I was super excited to write this one and the inspiration just kept coming, I hope you enjoy!

A groan rumbles in your throat, as your heels click against the stone steps ascending into the tall, old building being used as this year's work party venue. 

“It won't be that bad,” Mark's voice next to you brings you some comfort, as he squeezes your hand, encouragingly. Glancing down at his polished nails, painted by you and you squeeze his back.

“Thank you for coming with me, honestly, you're the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I wouldn't let you endure tonight alone,” he says, holding the large door open and gently placing his hand on your lower back, guiding you inside.

Your footsteps echo as you cross the large, ornate foyer, where one of the servers points you in the direction of the hall, the music muffled behind the closed doors.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod and thread your arm through his, before taking a much needed deep breath. Tonight's work party is to celebrate the accomplishments of the company for this financial year. And most importantly the new creative director of events would be announced. You've worked your butt off for this promotion for two years, you've planned the most events out of anyone else in your company and with excellent reviews. All of this has not been without plenty of sleepless nights and working late. Now, it was all about to pay off and you felt like you could breathe again, but this work party had been filling your stomach with butterflies ever since it was announced. You hated being the centre of attention, plus the fact the promotion would be announced in front of everyone and you had to do a speech, made you very uncomfortable.

You walk into the large crowded room, suits and gowns as far as you can see. A large piano sat in the far corner, where a lady in a lavish blue dress and long black hair played an elegant piece, hitting the keys with perfect precision.

You drag Mark to the bar, insisting on a drink before any greeting, that is until you hear an all too familiar voice behind you. None other than Jackson Wang. 

“Mark, my man, it's been a while since y/n’s dragged you along to anything.” He says, no doubt shoving his hand into Marks. You take a few gulps of your martini.

“Another please.” You mouth to the bartender, tapping on the glass. 

You finally face Jackson, not even bothering with fake pleasantries.

“Y/n, you look…” he pauses for a moment and clears his throat, “nice.” He says the words as if they would choke him upon their exit and you can't help but roll your eyes. 

“Gee, thanks,” you mumble, your nerves of tonight's events, making you far less patient for Jackson Wang than usual. 

You two have been practically mortal enemies since his arrival at the company. He has been here half the time, does half the work you do and yet, gets most of the praise. But boy, does he love to rub it in. Everything about him rubs you up the wrong way.

“You seem to be in more of a mood than usual.” He remarks, “I thought you'd be celebrating by now.”

“Yes, well not everyone likes being the centre of attention, Jackson.”

He smiles, seeming awkward at the bite in your retort. “Well, Mark, great to see you as always.” They shake hands and hug once more, before Jackson turns back to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and says, “good luck, y/n.”

Your irritated glare burns holes in his back as he walks away.

“You need to cut him some slack,” Mark's voice sounds next to you, annoyance blooming like a tree inside you, “he was just trying to be nice.”

You fight the urge to snap at him, taking a breath before speaking, “no, nice and Jackson Wang are two words that can't coexist in the same sentence in regards to me. He's nice to you, yes. Me? Absolutely not. He’s sarcastic and loud and he doesn't care about anyone but himself.” You down the rest of your drink and pick up your second that waits for you at the bar.

“I think you're wrong about him. He's just-”

“Chaotic, arrogant, self-centred, conceited. I could go on if none of those work.” You reply dryly, ignoring the eye roll he throws your way.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” your boss on the microphone startles you out of your current conversation and has your stomach doing somersaults. “Can you all gather around, please?”

Mark holds out his arm for you, “shall we?” 

Grasping it like your life depends on it, your feet move mechanically towards the crowd at the stage. Your legs feel like they would surely give way under you, if you weren't leaning on him so heavily.

“Now, it's the time we've all been waiting for folks…” he smiles cheerily. “I'll keep this brief, as I know everyone is eager to delve into the celebrations…” 

You attempt to control your breaths and hope to slow down your rapid heart beat, pounding alarmingly hard against your rib cage.

“...creative director is a prized position in our company, and so, of course we had to make sure we chose the right person…”

A loud swallow seems to echo around you as you try to quell the dryness in your throat. How on earth will you be able to do a speech?

“...we need someone who will continue to bring in fresh ideas, someone who will create trends and not follow them and someone who will do their best to strive for this company…”

Your ears throb, mimicking your heartbeat and making your boss's words quiet.

“...it is my utmost pleasure to introduce to you, your new creative director…Jackson Wang!”

Your legs wobble and Mark clutches you to his side, his eyes straight on your face. But you couldn't look at him. Instead you're scanning the room, finding Jackson as he climbs the stairs onto the stage. A wide Cheshire grin stretches across his face, too wide not to have known that was coming. Your blood boils in your veins, an unbearable heat rising up through your body and straight to your face, making your head feel aflame. You flash back to his ‘good luck’ to you only mere moments ago and your chest fills fit to burst with a scream you dare not let escape.

All around you a muffled call of “speech, speech,” slamming its way into your ears like a steel drum.

No matter how much you don't want to watch this scene play out, your feet are frozen to the floor beneath you, unable to do anything but stare.

He laughs, “wow, uh, believe it or not, for the first time ever, I'm speechless.” 

The crowd erupts into laughter, only infuriating you more as your fists clench into tight balls at your sides. 

“Hey, let's get out of here?” Mark says attempting to soothe your anger but you don't miss the slight panic in his tone.

There's a brief moment of Jackson meeting your eyes and you could swear he almost faltered while making his rehearsed speech…almost but he recovers and you can't bear to see anymore. You let Mark lead you slowly out of the large room, following blindly alongside him, numbness taking over.

You both come to a stop in a quiet part of the building with no prying eyes or ears. Mark comes round in front of you, taking both your hands. “I'm sorry, y/n.” He whispers. 

A hot tear rolls down your cheek and it's only then you realise your blurry vision is because your eyes are a dam ready to overflow. Cheering in the distance trumps again and you guess he's finished his speech. 

“Do you want to go?” Mark asks bending down to try and catch your eyes, but your stare is fixated on the marble flooring.

You did, of course you did. You wanted to run as far away from this as you could but, you were expected to be here, your boss will want to talk to you, no doubt and you don't want anyone thinking you ran off and sulked, especially not Jackson. The last thing you would do is let him see you upset because of him, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Swiping harshly at the wet trail down your face, you swallow your pride down and take a deep breath. “I can't, I have to stay.”

He says nothing but nods in understanding.

“Give me a few minutes ok, I'll meet you back inside.”

He eyes you carefully. “Are you sure? I can wait here for you?”

Smiling, you lay a hand on his chest. “I'll be fine, I promise. I'll see you inside.”

Reluctantly he agrees and heads off back into the main venue, looking behind him once to check on you. Once he's out of sight you head to the bathroom to freshen up, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. Thankfully the mirror is unoccupied giving you the chance to touch up your makeup. Smoothing down your dress, you release a steady breath, feeling calmer and more prepared now you are in control of your emotions. However, when you open that bathroom door, you're met with the last face you expected to see waiting for you.

“Y/n,” Jackson breathes, seeming relieved.

Your fists are balled up at your sides in an instant, all your calming positivity thrown out the window from just your name on his lips.

Gritting your teeth to keep your cool prevents you from replying.

“I'm so glad you're still here.” He takes a hesitant step towards you.

“Where else would I be, Jackson?” You snap.

He stills, his face falling and eyes suddenly so sad and vulnerable it hurts your heart. The fact you feel guilty for your response has you doubting your feelings, but you push it aside. No, he's the one that's done this, he's taken something you've worked so hard for.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, “you're the last person I need to speak to.”

You try to walk past him but his hand comes out, grabbing your arm gentle but firm, your head snapping back to him.

You realise then this is the first time he's ever touched you, unsure as to why that thought enters your head, you push it aside.

“Y/n, please.” His pleading eyes pull at your heart, as confusion muddles your mind further.

Shrugging out of his grasp and folding your arms across your chest, you say, “you have five minutes.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and closes some distance between you. “Thank you.” He smiles, seeming to ease the tension but maybe he's just smug that you've relented.

“I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye,” he starts and you can't help but scoff at the understatement. He ignores and continues, “but I want you to know that I've refused the promotion.”

Your mouth falls agape. Never in a million years would you have guessed that's what he was about to say. “Why would you do that?”

“Call me crazy,” he takes slow steps towards you, your arms fall at your sides even though you feel more tense than ever, “but I think a promotion should be earned.” 

You're still waiting for the punchline but when there's only an inch between you, you look up into his dark eyes, open and honest and find your wilful thoughts faltering.

“You've worked harder than anyone in this company to do that and I've expressed that to our managers. You've not been recognised for all the work and revenue you've bought in for them. If I'm honest, I think you'd be better off elsewhere, but that's not my business.” He holds his hands up, surrendering before you can snap at him again. Only this time, your anger and annoyance has dissipated, left with only awe and bemusement in its place.

Your eyes narrow at him, still unwilling to completely let go of the distrust you hold. He smiles at your suspicion. “Feel free to go in and ask Mark, he is my witness, I'm a man of my word.”

There's a long pause, unwavering eyes on one another in the empty corridor, before he swallows and looks at his feet, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know. I'll see you around y/n.” 

He starts off towards the exit doors and something inside you rises up, unwillingly to stop this conversation, the words fly out of your mouth, “why are you being so nice, now?” 

He turns and smiles sadly, “I've been trying to be nice to you for months.”

Instantly, you're ready to argue but he puts a hand up to stop you, “you assume the worst of me and I'm not really sure why?”

For once you are at a loss for words, thinking back to every conversation you've had recently, could you have misinterpreted him? Or was he right, and you've just been looking for a negative brush to tar him with?

“But you're always so…” you're unsure where to start but decide on the least offensive first, “loud.”

“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps, I'm trying to get you to notice me?”

Your eyes snap across to his, feeling sure you would see the teasing in his eyes and when you don't, you feel more confused than ever. “Well, what about this, you tease me so often I never know when you're serious.”

He takes a step towards you. “I tease you to make you laugh.”

“But what about when you're always showing off?”

Another step closer. “Once again, trying to get you to notice me.”

You're desperately trying to connect a puzzle in your head but the pieces just don't seem to fit.

“But why?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you and swiping a hand through his hair, a move that he makes looks so devastating, your thoughts still. “I like you, y/n, I have since I started working here. I was hoping our fiery banter would turn into something more but…I never realised how much you despised me until tonight.”

A rock of guilt and disappointment lands in the pit of your stomach at his words.

“I'm sorry, truly, I didn't mean for there to be any miscommunication or to have upset you in any way. I should have just been up front and honest sooner,” he explains, making you feel worse.

Standing here looking at him now, how sincere and exposed he is, you realise what an idiot you've been.

The office is always full of laughter when he's around, something you'd assumed was at your expense, but he was aiming for your laughter instead. He was always speaking up in meetings, trying to pitch his ideas, you'd assumed he was talking over you and attempting to prove he's better, but it was all for your attention. Every compliment he'd given you had seemed sarcastic and full of mocking, instead he was just being awkward and unsure of how to communicate with you.

“No,” you say, closing the distance between you, “I was wrong, I read you completely wrong, all due to my own stubborn and selfish thoughts. I'm sorry, Jackson.”

The blush that crept across his cheeks was something you'd never imagined and made him look even more handsome. 

A slow melody sounds around you, echoing down from the main function. 

He clears his throat and holds out a hand to you. “Could I be so bold as to ask you to dance?”

You hesitate, although you're surprised at how badly you want to. “Here?”

He nods, a breathtaking smirk plays on his lips and needing no more encouragement, you take his hand and let him pull you to him. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you to him as your feet move perfectly in sync, slow and deliberate.

Neither of you say a word for the entire song, just enjoying the closeness, though unexpected and when the music stops so do your feet.

“I always thought you hated me.” You can't help the nervous laughter that escapes as your bodies remain pressed together.

He looks down at you, hooking a finger under your chin, “I'd rather fight with you, than be with anyone else.” 

You realise now how serious he is, how much he means everything he's said to you and…much to your surprise, how much you want him too.

Without overthinking or second guessing, you grab the lapels of his blazer and pull him down towards you. He eagerly obliges. Not before cupping your face with gentle hands and touching his lips, softly but assertively to yours.

Your mouths explore each other in a passionate dance, tongues swirling and lips moving together perfectly, until you're both breathless and pulling away, fighting for air. 

“You wanna get out of here?” You ask, your core throbbing with an unexplored want. 

He nods frantically, pulling out his phone and requesting a cab. 

“Come on, 2 minutes.” He takes your hand and pulls you towards the exit but as you leave the main doors and the chilly night air hits you, you remember someone.

“Wait, I need to find Mark.”

“No need, princess,” Mark's voice sounds from behind and you spin to see him casually leaning against the wall. “I'm waiting for a taxi as we speak, you go and have fun.” He winks at you and you resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“See Mark, I knew I liked you.” Jackson says before leading you back down the steps and to your waiting car.

“Hurt her and I'll break you in half!” Mark calls out and you can't help but laugh, knowing how serious he is.

As Jackson pulls open the door of the cab you slide in, he follows you in quickly and slams the door.

“Your place or mine?” He asks.

“Mine’s closer.” You rattle off your address to the driver, before your mouth is on Jackson’s again.

Feeling needy and eager as his hands explore a pathway down your body, you resist the urge to climb on top of him.

“Did I mention how good you look in that dress?” He whispers against your lips.

“Not really no,” you respond, as your lips make their way down his neck, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“As soon as I saw you tonight, all I could think of was peeling this off of you.” He grabs at the material around your legs, bunching up to reveal your flesh. His fingers skate slowly up your thigh but he pauses and grabs them instead, letting out a frustrated growl. “I’ve wanted you for so long, these last few moments feel unbearable.”

You feel powerful and confident as you decide to make matters worse for him. Gliding a hand up his muscular thigh until you reach his crotch, you can feel his erection through the fabric of his trousers and you palm at it teasingly. He sucks in a breath and then holds it, biting his bottom lip with pleading eyes aimed at you. Smiling, you have to resist the urge to unzip him right there but the car comes to a stop, much to your relief.

Jackson tips the driver and helps you out of the vehicle. 

Grabbing his hand, you race to your front door, fumbling to find your keys in your purse with the other hand. He presses the front of his body against your back, his hands wandering all over you, exploring an urgent pathway that makes you want to melt against him. The click of the lock has you growling with fervour, as you roughly push your way inside your apartment. Spinning, your lips are on his, burning with a passion you've never experienced, as your hands are whipping off his tie and rapidly tackling the button on his trousers. Your hands slide up under his shirt while he clumsily tries to undo the buttons, you however, have no time for that. Ripping open his shirt, and hearing the spray of the buttons as they scatter around your living room floor.

“Sorry.” You whisper breathlessly.

The smile you feel against your mouth tells you he doesn't care one bit, and before you know it, you're stumbling through your bedroom until your back knocks into your dresser.

His hand grasps the back of your knees suddenly, and before you can register, he's scooping your legs up and lifting you onto the wooden top. He glides the material of your dress up and over your head, only briefly breaking the contact between your bodies, before slotting himself in between your legs

His fingers find the hem of your underwear and pull them off quicker than you anticipate, having to hold yourself onto the edge of your dresser.

Your fingers run along the hard muscles of his chest and down his stomach, you're desperate to have him inside you. No thoughts of teasing and drawing this out, you wanted him to quench this unbearable thirst, now.

Reaching inside his briefs, you free his erection from its clothed prison, he's rock hard in your hand and you can't help the desperate whine that escapes you. Lining him up to your entrance, you use your legs to guide him in. 

He pulls his lips off you and searches your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

You nod frantically, “please, Jackson, I need you.” 

His mouth connects to yours, more hungry and desperate than before and he pushes himself forward slowly, sliding into you and stretching you open.

The resounding groan from the two of you, sounds animalistic and raw. No holding back, just giving in to your feelings and desires. 

Watching each other intently, panting with excitement, time seems to slow down. The mood changes around you. Having him in such an intimate manner opens your eyes, seeing him clearer than ever, as if for the first time. You hold his face, pulling him down to you with a kiss that's different, not full of eagerness and impatience, but comfort and understanding.

When he bottoms out in you, he pauses, savouring the moment between you, tongues dancing softly together but it's not long before you find your impatience growing again. With your legs hooked around the back of his, you pull him forward, and grind yourself up against him, willing him to move.

He grunts and gets the message before he's pumping in and out of you in a perfect rhythm, making your heart pound wildly in your chest, so loud you can hear the echo in your ears, thumping away.

He grabs at your bra and pulls it down, freeing your breasts, his hands are on them in an instant, massaging them.

The sound of your dresser squeaking under the movements and pressure beneath you, only turns you on more, at this point, it could collapse under you and you'd still continue on their tirade.

Your hands find his buttocks, squeezing the flesh as you control his movements, wanting him harder and faster, the pressure building up inside at an alarming rate. 

You admire his body, toned to perfection, your gaze travelling up to watch his face, as his eyes are solely focused on his dick sliding in and out of you. The groans coming out of him are so sinful it makes you feel hot inside, too hot, like your skin could burn off your body at any minute and as the pressure inside grows intense, you realise you're dangerously close to a very powerful orgasm.

“Just like that,” you gasp, unable to say much more from the pleasure tightening everything and strangling your words.

“You close, baby?” He asks, eyes on your face as you nod. He smiles, looking pleased with himself, “I want to see how pretty you look when you come.” He bites his own lip, as if trying to hold off his own climax. The idea of that is all you need for the pleasure bubble inside you to pop and your body contracts aggressively around him, as you’re blinded by white light. 

“Oh, yes.” He whispers, as he holds your face towards him, while he helps you ride out your high. The pulses continue on until they die down and suddenly he's pulling out of you and pumping himself with his hand, until he explodes all over your stomach and chest, leaving white ropes of ecstasy as evidence on your skin.

Leaving your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath, he strokes the skin on your back.

After a few peaceful moments, he places his knuckle under your chin and lifts your head up towards him, planting a tender kiss to your lips.

“Come,” he says, pulling up his trousers and then scooping you up in his arms to take you to your bed.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you can feel the adrenaline leaving your body as you curl up into his side, the last thing you remember is his lips against your forehead.

*

Opening your eyes, you're met with bright sunlight streaming through your window, you can hardly keep them open. Rolling from your front to your side and feeling for your phone on the bedside table, you check the time. 10.05. Not too late for a Sunday. Glancing down you notice your naked body, as the memories from last night's events come back thick and fast as you sit bolt upright, eyes darting around the room.

“Jackson!” You call out through the ajar bedroom door, wondering if he's somewhere else in the flat.

Silence. 

Your stomach sinks slightly. Did you fall for a complete fabrication of feelings for a one night stand? Checking your phone; there's no missed calls or messages from him. Flopping back down on your bed, you pull the sheet over your head, feeling embarrassed and stupid and wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. How were you going to face him at work tomorrow? Did any of your colleagues see you leave together? The thought churns your stomach, regret starting to seep in, hurting your chest with every new thought or worry. 

A noise in the distance distracts you momentarily from the chaotic thoughts using your brain as a roundabout. You sit up, hearing someone moving around in your kitchen, could it be him? 

You get out of bed quickly and quietly, pulling on some shorts and a vest, giving yourself a quick check in your mirror, that's when you notice your makeup and other items that neatly sat on your dresser, scattered all over the floor. A flush travels up your neck with the images from last night. 

You swallow them down and tiptoe out into the open plan living room and kitchen.

There he stands, dressed in his suit trousers and shirt, at the counter, putting something on a plate, humming quietly to himself. The sight pulls in your chest and you can't help the smile that pulls your mouth as you lean casually against your door frame.

He turns towards you, carrying a tray with what looks like an iced coffee, panini, a plastic bowl of fruit and pancakes. When his eyes notice you, he freezes, his cheeks flush red briefly as he beams at you. A smile so captivating you can't believe you didn't appreciate it before.

“Hi,” you break the silence first.

“Morning,” he says, dreamily, then shaking his head as if to snap himself out of his daze, he adds, “I thought you might like breakfast. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a selection.” He stands there, seeming awkward, his usual confidence gone. 

You walk towards him, taking the tray and placing it on your dining table. “It all looks amazing, and very thoughtful. Thank you, there is something I'd like for breakfast.” 

He frowns, bewildered from your actions, as you watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. You close any distance between you, playing with his shirt and notice the question in his eyes.

“You.” You reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He's on you in an instant, lips dancing hungrily with yours as he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, leaving your breakfast waiting for when you've stated the hunger you feel for him.

[isabeauwolf]

Toga, Magne and Mary having a sleepover, watching RomComs, painting each other's nail, then dragging Dabi, Twice and Spinner into the circle

Magne filing Spinners nail and painting them green and pink to match his scales and hair. Talking his ear off as he patiently listens.

Toga painting white and black to match his suit, humming with a huge smile on her face while Twice watches in fascination, not wanting to break her concentration

Mary painting Dabi's nail black with metallic blue tips, the blue flame user, holding his cheek in his hand, bored and trying to keep his mask off indifference. Her touch is gentle and warm as his turquoise eyes flicker to her face, his hand in her grasp and freshly painted nails, back to her face.

"Do you not like the color choice?" Mary asks, dipping the tiny brush into the black polish, wiping off the excess and painting his middle finger. "If you want something else, tell me so I can quickly remove it."

Dabi blinks, embarrassed for being caught staring. A pinkish hue spreading across his scared cheeks, his heart thudding wildly as he cleared his throat. "Nah, it's fine. Matches my emo vibe doesn't?" Remasking his features.

"Edgy is more like it, pyro " Mary smiled, stopping to meet his intense and burning gaze. Her mismatched gold and violet gaze twinkled. "Carrying all that fuck boy swagger and arrogance must be exhausting." Her lips curled into a playful smirk.

Dabi chuckled in amusement, arching a brow. "Good to know I've caught your eye, princess." A lazy grin on his lips.

"How can I not notice when you stomp so loud with your rockstar chunky boots." She laughs, continuing her work. "I should call you thumper with that foot tapping and antsy habit of yours. It's adorable."

He hasn't noticed his foot was bouncing and tapping, he froze mid stomp. "I'm not a bunny, wolf girl."

"No, I'd say you're more like a skittish and grumpy Tom cat."

"This kitty's got claws." He fired back, grin widening.

"As do I, casanova." She replied, "I'll bite to prove my point, if you're not careful." Pausing and giving a wink, tilting her head, purring, "Unless that's what you want?" Letting go of his hand to take the other one, waiting.

"Sounds like a fun time."

Shigaraki walks into the room, leaving his gaming session to get something to drink. He hummed in confusion, then cackles, cracked, chapped and scarred lips split into a wide grin. "Didn't know there was a pampering princess party."

Twice and Spinner blush in embarrassed.

Toga pouts, "You don't have to be a big meanie, Tomura."

"Don't take it to heart, Himiko." Mary cut in without letting go of Dabi's hand as she finished his pinky finger. "Gamer boy is just jealous that he wasn't invited."

Shigaraki's crimson gaze turned to where Mary sat, eyes narrowing as he grit his teeth, jaw clenching as he saw the she-wolf holding the zombie man's hand. His gut twisting and burning as envy and jealousy swirled in his body, his hands twitched as the familiar itching crawled over his scarred neck. "Say it again, wolfy." He hisses.

He didn't care that he wasn't invited, he shouldn't care that Dabi has been getting closer and closer to the Yakuza Princess underneath his nose, but the sight of the woman's hands gently holding the burnt man pissed him off more.

He remembers her gentle touch as she took care of his bullet wounds from the USJ, the light scolding she gave as he tried to scratch his neck in frustration. He shook himself from his thoughts, growled, "What?"

Mary let go of Dabi's hand, rolled her eyes and sighed. "I can smell your envy, jealousy, confusion and frustration from here." Her tail twitched and swished in irritation, pointing at the free spot beside Dabi. "It's stinking up the room, either sit your boney ass down beside Dabi so I can do yours next or zip it and move on."

Shigaraki let out a noise between a snarled hiss and a growl, sounded like a drowned cat. Muttering and growling curses underneath his breath, stomping his way and sat down beside Dabi. "Fucking happy?" Crossing his arms with his pink fingers raised.

Mary hums in approval, smiling. "Yes, thank you." Nodding her head, "You could have asked to join the party instead of acting like a stubborn edge lord, Tomura." She turns back to Dabi as he snickers, giving her his unpainted hand.

"Whatever." Shigaraki huffed, glancing away. His pale cheeks growing rosy underneath his mop of light blue hair.

"While you sit there pouting like a toddler. Go ahead and pick out what colors you want while you wait, please." Mary advised, re-grasping Dabi's hand and got back to work.

Shigaraki's shoulders relaxed and dropped as he stared at all the colors of nail polish, various hues, shades, glitters and shines like gems of a cave underneath his gaze. Why the hell were there so many? It was a bit overwhelming. His eyes roamed the room, observing all the color choices everyone in the league picked, no, none of those felt right. He didn't want anything too bright and sparkly. Yuck, glitter was off the table, nope, no, hell no.

Shigaraki inwardly sighed, this quest side shouldn't be overly difficult.

His crimson iris' found Mary's again, observing her graceful and steady hands, then flickering to her own painting nails. It was a light peachy color, simple and matching her peach colored lips.

Yes, that's what he wants.

Noticing the bottle beside her, he leans over picking the bottle with a three fingered grip, "here." Practically shoving it in her face.

Mary tilted her head, mismatched gold and violet meeting crimson as her brows furrow in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I am." He sassed back, shoving it closer to her without touching her. "Everything else is too bright and stands out. I hate glittery shit, it gets God knows everywhere." He growls.

Mary giggled, "Alright, alright, calm the hell down. You don't have to snap at me. It's just not what I expected." Letting go of Dabi's hand after she finished the last nail, closing the blue polish, placing it beside her and taking the one Shigaraki offered. Waving the peach colored bottle between them, "switch places please."

Dabi grunted and scouted back, making room when an idea popped into his head. Burnt and scarred lips, curling into a teasing smirk, he stood and sat behind Mary, pulling her back into his chest, watching over her shoulder. "I like this seat better, princess. You're like a big cuddly tears bear." His still drying hand drumming on his knee.

Mary blinked and shrugged her shoulder, "Whatever makes you comfortable." Her face heated up.

Shigaraki noticed, he moved to the empty spot in front of her. His pinky curled under and spread his fingers to give her more room. The moment she touched his hand, he inwardly shuttered and his breath hitches; her hands are warm, touch is delicate and soothing. "Just... Just get on with it, damned wolfy."

"Hold still," she spoke gently, offering a reassuring smile.

Shigaraki said nothing.

He could feel the rest of the league watching with amusement and interest. Nosy brats.

He watched her work, coloring his nails. As much as he tried, he couldn't help the twitch of his lips curling upward into a faint smile. Watching intently as Mary started humming, crimson eyes never leaving her face as his heart skipped a beat and he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. He was only calm and content, cherishing her warmth, oddly enough he didn't want to leave.

Of course, Dabi noticed and couldn't keep his big mouth shut, smirking and playing cooing into one of Mary's furry ears and whispered, "Looks like you are a real brat tamer, princess. It's only peaceful, you should come over more often."

Mary jumped and her breath hitched, shivering as she nudged her head into Dabi's jaw, glancing over her should with a pointed look, her tail and ears twitching in irritation. "Don't do that please. I need to concentrate or do you want to turn into dust along with me, pyro?"

He chuckled, "Whoops, did I hit a soft spot, princess? Lucky me." He noticed the blush on her pale cheeks, then his gaze flickered to Shigaraki. "Awe, look like you broken our boss from simply holding hands. Poor virgin bastard."

"What?" Mary blinked in confusion, turning her head and glancing back at her hand. Oh. She was holding his hand, except his fingers were still spread wide and their palms were touching, Shigaraki remained completely still as a statue. "Oops, sorry, Tomura." Unlocking her hand from his, slowly and backing away, waiting for him to notice. "Tomura?"

Toga got up and poked the top of Shigaraki's head. "Is he dead?" Blinking, she giggled as she got an idea, meeting Mary's worried gaze. "Should I get your taser, Mar?"

"No." Mary shook her head.

"Yes, go get it," Dabi replied, encouraging the teen.

Toga's smile widened, showing off her canines. "M'kay, be right back!" She ran out of the room and straight into her room where Mary's overnight back was kept.

Mary starred after her friend in disbelief, then shook herself, turning in Dabi's hold, glaring more harshly and a bite in her tone. "Do you really thinking shocking the human disintegrator is a great idea, adrenaline junk? Do you want to turn into a pile of dust that badly?"

"We all die sometime, princess." The blue flamed user shrugs his shoulder. "Besides, handy freak wouldn't hurt ya. He's too cautious, not that I blame him." Dabi pulls Mary into his chest, pressing her flat against him and straddling his lap.

Then there was a thud.

Dabi looked at Shigaraki passed out on the floor. "Pathetic man." He chuckled, "Virgins got a long way to go, if he wants to romance you, princess."

Magnet, Spinner, Twice were cleaning all around Shigaraki, every once in a while glancing at their passed out boss. Yup, he's still breathing.

"Must you antagonize him and Kai so much?" Mary asked pouting, ignoring Dabi's comment.

"If you want overly cheery, you've got the wrong monster, beauty." Dabi laughed and winked, "You enjoy my teasings more than enough. Why should I hide it. Your reactions are adorable and honest, I like that." Turquoise eyes growing heavy-lidded and intense.

Magne chuckled, "Get a room you too, please, all this flirting and tension is overly embarrassing."

Mary's face grew hot. "You are not helping, big sis Mag."

"It's true though, hun." Magne grabbed Twice and Spinner, shoving them over out of the living room and into the kitchen. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do~"

"Gottcha," Dabi's smug smile curled into a amused smirk.

"I've got the taser!" Toga cheered, smiling. She blinked, glancing at Dabi, Mary and Shigaraki. "Ah man, what did I miss? Where'd everybody go?"

"Boss man being a pussy," Dabi snickered as Mary lightly smacked him on the arm, chuckling and raised his arms in defense, mock surrender. "What? He is."

"The rest of the gang are in the kitchen." Mary replied, turning back around with her back against Dabi much to his disappointment. "Compress should be back by now with pizza and drinks."

"Shiggy still short circuited, huh?" Toga crouched down and sighed, taser in hand as her golden catlike eyes noticed Shigaraki's painted nails as she recognizes the same peach colored polish on Mary's hands. "Aw, he matched you, Mar. It's cute."

"I was surprised as well. Do you think it's his favorite color?" She asked, though she had an idea.

"Nah," Toga waved her off, smiling as she plays with the taser. "Tsundere creeper wanted to match his crush," she blushes, covering her mouth with the back of her empty hand, "but its better than nothing."

"Should we leave him like that?" Mary asked in worry, ears flat against her head.

"He'll be fine." Dabi waved him off, "Let the loser sleep in la la land." He got up, pulling Mary into his side. "Let's go check in on Mr. I'm getting hungry."

"Wait for me," Toga skipped along, grabbing Mary's other arm and linking their arms together. "Don't be a hog, Frankenstein." She scolded, pouting and puffing out her cheeks.

"I was here first, blood sucker." Dabi replied back in annoyance, tightening his hold on the she-wolf, his arm wrapping around her waist, possessively.

They three walked into the kitchen.

Shigaraki blinked and covered his steaming face with his arms, feeling his face grow more hot. "Dammit, I need more hp and gamer fuel for these surprise attacks from the main heroine," he mutters to himself.

--------------

@fanofflames @slayfics @angelblueflame @nikki152006 @i-need-chisaki-redemption-arc @chainslobber @chisvki @xxchisakislittleangelxx @x-kiwi-03 @fabled-lady-twilla @madamebloodmoon @cherry-queens-blog @metranart

[noah1986]

El señor de la noche...

MDNI

tw: smut / oral sex / vaginal sex. 

2 years ago, you met Miguel. 4 dates. 

One day he just vanished, leaving you confused and misplaced. Truthfully, you didn’t know much about him, just that he was a geneticist traveling constantly. 

After Miguel’s disappearance, you swear on your future that you wouldn’t let anyone approach you to make you fall in love and leave just like that.

The rain on the cement reflected the poor light from the street lamps. Your apartment felt too still. Every single night was too quiet, too empty you missed having someone. 

The routine was getting old, cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, showering, and going to bed. Sometimes touching yourself to clear your mind. 

As you grew tired, you decided to take a shower. Your body felt heavy and somehow your mind was playing games. Catching what seemed to be a red shadow in the corner of your eye. 

Your bedroom was cold, as you walked to your closet to grab a hoodie, the light coming from the window was interrupted by a giant black figure. 

- “What...”

He got closer...Miguel was wearing Spiderman’s suit, and at that moment, everything clicked. His disappearance.

- “You are him?” It came like a mumble. 

To say you were mad at Miguel was wrong at this very moment, you could only feel confusion. The very man that put you in this place full of hesitation and sadness came back like nothing after so long.

- “Sí.” His eyes were like fire without an ounce of remorse. He was broader, full of muscle in every inch of his body. His fangs were more prominent. He looked agitated. Tall as usual. 

- Why did you come back after so long? Your eyes are glued to the floor, a heart filled with sadness and the anticipation of the worse. 

- “Cause now I can have you without any problem” Miguel went through a lot since the night he left you. Working out all the possibilities to have the best outcome. To have you, all to himself. 

- “But Miguel...” Your eyes fixated on his, your chest heaving, so much was going on. 

The man you wanted and thought about every night for 8 months after he left was in front of you, looking like an absolute God. No more denying you wanted him all over you, touching every part of your body. You were angry but having him towering over your frame was too much for a mortal. 

Miguel has always been like this. Too much presence, power, strength, discipline, and determination. 

The hard thing to accept was that you were as attracted to him as you were 2 years ago. Probably more.

His eyes were devouring your nipples that were showing through your thin shirt. 

Your mouth and soft skin were screaming to be taken. Miguel wasn’t stupid and noticed the sublime messages. 

He captured your lips taking his time with memorizing the taste and feeling of them. His hands didn’t have enough of you grabbing your ass and caressing the skin of your back. 

Between moans and gasps for air...

- “Te extrañé tanto muñequita.” You understood enough to know what he meant. 

He grabbed your legs and carry you to bed. His arms on each side of your head, wet kisses, from your mouth to your now bare chest. Licking, sucking, and biting your nipples with so much passion, you thought you might come.

- “Tell me what you want” He opened your legs putting each one on his broad, hard muscular shoulders. Teasing you, playing with your clit in between his fingers, saying dirty things with his eyes going from yours to your clothed pussy. 

- “Make me yours” Pleading eyes and moans were more than enough to send him into oblivion. The materialization of all his dreams is right in front of him. 

- “Oh I will, but first I’m going to ruin you” Miguel was possessed by his worst demons, lust, and anger, and he let himself be consumed. The lust of dreaming every night with your presence and the anger of having to leave you.

He ripped your panties and open your lips, licking all the moisture coming from your hole, making circles, up and down until your clit was so swollen you couldn’t even talk, your hands touching his while his claws were restraining your thighs from moving. Miguel was an animal and you were his prey crying, asking for help. Your orgasm showered you with bliss and he didn’t stop licking you, collecting your juices mixed with his saliva. 

His knees hit the mattress, grinning like a feral monster ready to take every orgasm he could claim. 

- “Miguel...” Came like a whisper, almost nonaudible. 

Grabbing your legs and leaving wet kisses all over them, sucking your fingertips, caressing your thighs, ready to break you with his cock. 

- “I’m going to make you scream my name so much your neighbors will know it.” He was determined to show you how much he has craved your skin since the moment he met you. He never touched you in such a way at the beginning. And after he left he only dreamt about having you for at least only one night. 

It was everything about you that drove him insane. Your smile, eyes, hair, and the way your delicious ass stretched your leggings. 

Tonight he had you all for himself. He grabbed your hips and turned you around, getting you on all fours, he rubbed slowly your clit and penetrate you, waiting a few seconds to give you the time to adjust to his size. 

He fucked you mercilessly, almost disconnected from reality with all the pleasure he felt from your moans and whimpers, how warm and tight you were. 

In and out. Spanking you and telling you the most obscene things. 

“Quiero que te vengas hasta que no puedas más” 

“Me encanta este culo”

“Me pones loco”

“You want a baby?”

“My fucking slut, this pussy is fucking mine” 

For a moment everything was too much and you let yourself go, cumming as he followed you. The warmth of his semen all over your pussy, you wanted him, always like this. He captured your moans with his lips. He was hovering over you leaving soft kisses on your shoulder.

He took care of you, making sure you were cleaned. In his mind, nothing could be better than this. Finally, he was home. 

After a few moments in bed, talking nonsense and laughing Miguel went quiet and deep in thought, your head resting on his chest. Whispering 

“Perdóname por como me fui, no dudes que te pense cada día” His forehead touching yours, and smiling.

“Te amo, muñeca”

“Me too”

[brucewaynehater101]

i'm not sure how much you know about fnaf but there are a couple au's relating to that i keep throwing around in my head involving tim.

tim, terrified of animatronics which he's seen get stuffed with dead bodies or used to actively murder children, gets caught by older cousins/friends/secret third option and put into an animatronic's mouth, which bites down and crushes his skull. he recovers with the help of the drake's friend william who owned the restaurant (and is the murderer killing children), but suffers night terrors. the drakes then offer to take him to the circus that's in town as per recommendation from their therapist and we all know how that goes.

now tim's triple traumatized and the drakes ask the help of william to take care of how tim's behaving, and he constructs the plot of fnaf 4, with giant haunting robots attacking him in his bedroom, to experiment around with tim while his parents are outside of the country, and any time he tries telling them the truth they chock it up to trauma.

eventually, william, as per fnaf lore, gets killed in a confrontation of the ghosts of the children he killed, stuffed in a golden bunny suit. without him the robots that haunt him are still active, but without william around there's nothing stopping him from leaving the house, encouraging his stalking habits and allowing him to see batman and robin in action. he becomes obsessed with them and he becomes robin and red robin and what not.

then he finds out that william is still alive in the suit, and is killing nightguards and experimenting with the other dead children, and he tries to stop him, first going to an underground storage facility to enact the plot of fnaf sister location, where at the end his internal organs get scooped out and his empty body used as a husk for the robots in the facility to escape.

eventually, tim's body decays and they leave, but tim is still alive somehow. now tim is undead, and is working on deconstructing the robots and ending the legacy of william, freeing the souls in the process. the entire time, the bats being ignorant to what he's doing until he kills himself in a fire with everything related to fazbear, william, and the robots.

i prefer the bats, and other heroes or villains, being there while the robots from the facility (ennard), leave red robin/tim drake's body. the cutscene from the game is 8 bit, but in essence he starts shaking, his eyes go black, his jaw unhinges and he falls flat to the floor as the entity leaves his body. he gets up eventually, but when could change the story alot.

i know some parts are vague but idk how much fnaf lore you know and it's an interesting idea even without full knowledge of the story of the fnaf games. just tim having an extreme traumatic experience as a child, viewing batman and robin's ability to overcome their experiences by working together and keeping gotham safe and thinking more highly of them because he associates them with freedom and nights of peace even though he doesn't sleep.

this is getting really long BUT every time bruce sends tim home tim has to face actual nightmare creatures trying to kill him with more broken or hurt limbs than he would have otherwise. and bruce just doesn't notice.

Fuck. I really don't know much about FNAF lore, so this was a bit of a wild ride (in a good way!). The only exposure I've had to FNAF is playing what I think was the first game (though I couldn't live past the second night) and one MHA fic. The fic was a very very interesting concept of Midoriya, before he went to UA, getting trapped in a virtual world by someone's quirk. He basically had to complete 7 horror games as if he was living through them. One of the games was FNAF (and the animatronics gain consciousness. It's freaky). I didn't finish the fic, but the concept was rad as hell.

I haven't read it, but there are also some FNAF fics with Tim and John Constantine.

I love how much your AU is torturing poor Tim. He doesn't get a break when he's done with Robin. He's got to continuously deal with all this shit and traumatize his family with the way he dies. I'm a little lost on the exact timeline here, but I'm vibing with the ideas

[emotionalmesshooman]

First, my character's name is Yrsa she was a lower-class citizen of the hunter tribe. Her and Viggo have known each other for a long time. She can be a bit reckless (kinda like the dumb ideas that the twins have). Then I was thinking "Yrsa" means she-bear, but Viggo calls her "little wolf" because it's sorta like an inside joke for them, and it's his name for her. Wolves can symbolize chaos and destruction, and Yrsa has accidentally set fire to multiple buildings, so Viggo thinks that part suits her. Wolves also symbolize loyalty and protection, which are both traits Viggo could associate with her. The little part is because she's short compared to him.

I also have a ton of possible small little stories between these two. Like Before Yrsa got Dawnwhip, she always dreamed of flying, but obviously, without a dragon, she couldn't, so when they were kids, Viggo made some prototype to the flight suit or a glider so she could fly safely.

Alright those are my ideas.....this is my attempt. Please tell me if I need to change anything.

Yrsa was many things, but a dragon hunter was never one of them. That's why she ran away when she tamed her monsterous nightmare, Dawnwhip the moment she turned 20. Leaving the dark parts of her past behind her and looking out into the new horizon that her and Dawnwhip would explore.

Only one thing tied her to the hunters, or rather one person. Viggo Grimborn, the myth, the legend, the hunter, the monster, the man, and he rarely asked for help. So when she got the terrormail from him that informed her he needed 'assistance', she saddled up Dawnwhip and left as soon as Dawnwhip's wings would allow.

"Easy there," the lavender purple monsterous nightmare landed on the hunter ship. Viggo had told the hunters not to fire, but it was clear to Yrsa that the poor men were ignorant of who she was or why they weren't firing. She couldn't help but laugh inwardly of how little Viggo changed since the last time she saw him at their yearly meeting. She dismounted Dawnwhip. "Your boss, he's in his cabin?" She spoke loudly so the hunters could hear her through the cloth that masked the bottom of her face, only allowed her blue eyes to be seen under her low hood that her black hair was tucked inside. One of the hunters nodded, and she walked in the direction of the cabin. "Watch my dragon, will you? Don't worry, she doesn't bite all that hard... the last guy had no complaints. " She laughed to herself at her joke but silently nodded to Dawnwhip. Yrsa trusted Viggo, but Viggo didn't trust these men, so nethier did she.

The caged dragons line the walls of the hallway. Their roars crawled under his skin and left goose bumps. Not of fear but because she knew she wouldn't be saving them. The golden engraved door-she knew it was just an oak door with gold painted onto it, but it still looked fancy. She didn't bother to knock when she swung the door open. He wanted her here, and he got her. He sat at the desk in the middle of the room, a smirk on his face.

"Hey Vig," She smiled and kicked the door shut, opening her arms for a hug she wasn't going to allow Viggo to skip. She took her hood and mask off to reveal two long black braids that had small bits of hair falling out of the braid and a crooked smile. A thin scar lay vertically on her lips from a game of Hide and Go Hunt that happened when they were kids.

”Ah! Yrsa, I’ve been expecting you, my friend.” He hugged her as well, putting his more business like personality to the side. He pulled up a chair for her to take a seat across from his desk. He went and sat down on his seat. “I did mention in my terror mail that I needed assistance, I know that would make you worry at the slightest, but let me assure you, everything is alright…” his cheerful tone and smile suddenly get serious. “Although I have had some problems with my dragons and my hunters getting along, you know that I don’t trust them at all, the hunters. They can be very hard to deal with, some more than others but the dragons have not been treated to my liking, I was hoping you would help me teach these hunters what it means to take care of a dragon and how to do it.” He chuckles, and lets out a sigh. “Sometimes these hunters are so hard to teach, it might as well be trying to catch a speed stinger.” He looks to the ground then up again quickly. “Enough about me, how was your flight?”

[kobitoshiningneedle]

My fandom hot take is: Ace Attorney has legal corruption as a theme and no idea what it's doing with it. It starts as a pretty straightforward "the legal system is unfair and slated towards the defence, prosecutors care about nothing but guilty verdicts and routinely forge evidence, you are the underdog attorney performing miracles" before retconning that the two major prosecutors implied to have forged evidence didn't do it on purpose after all, instead pinning it on higher officials, which at once widens the scope of the universe and makes the corruption run much deeper, but also somewhat "exonerates" the prosecutors of their more blatant wrongdoings (although not of all of them). And then after that, it makes two defence attorneys, including our heroes, into forgers, which itself is never retconned. And then there's this whole impersonating officers thing and it just goes completely sideways. It makes no sense. It's fascinating.

A really interesting question! The thematic inconsistency in Ace Attorney is really palpable, despite having some of the most comprehensive stories, so I'm with you on this one

Strongly agree | Agree | Neutral | Disagree | Strongly disagree

There are many, many Doylist reasons as to why the theme of corruption gets thrown from one side to the other, but saying that "Well yeah DD is kinda shit without nuance because it wasn't written by Takumi" would be a low-hanging fruit in terms of criticism. So I will try to compile my scattered thoughts about this topic here with another approach.

Seems like as a series Ace Attorney has this "protagonist biased" fault. We are rooting for Phoenix when he tricks Furio Tigre with the bottle. And we are supposed to be mad at Edgeworth for coaching Bellboy to deliberately misinform the court. And considering that, we can't even say that the series tried to imply the "defense attorney always good, prosecutor always bad" type of mindset - despite being first and foremost a game with a necessary element of satisfaction of defeating a malicious foe - because in the very first game there's Robert Hammond. And some time later we see Klavier Gavin. Apollo was a protagonist, so presenting the bloody ace was never called out. Meanwhile Edgeworth has entire drama around him handling SL-9. So that's why in my opinion this is exactly protagonist bias, when you win a game against Edgeworth and prove that this pink suit indeed tried to coach Bellboy to give a false testimony you get a portion of serotonin. The same serotonin runs through your brain when this sleazy new lawyer character gets caught.

But when you think about the grander scope, the things start getting sketchy.

In my opinion, it all can boil down to one sentiment, that again stems from the essence of this series - it's a game, and a story with black-while morals (yes, even games like Apollo Justice are pretty clear cut about who's in the right and who is not in my opinion). So it's a given that the protagonist will do things for the good of others. And the antagonists (which are often the prosecutors) will hinder that objective. So it's much more understandable that Phoenix will use tricks when he was trying to corner a loan shark who manipulated many people, or when he tried to bring the man who ruined his career and lives of others to justice. And with Edgeworth in SL-9 and Manfred in IS-7 is more like a flashback material, a foundation that have its story being built upon. SL-9 was a past case that doesn't quite have this urgency of saving a friend. And Manfred tried to put an innocent man in the jail anyway. I don't really like both of these (in my opinion) retcons, because they make the things unnecessarily complicated and REALLY rob Miles and Mandfred from their agency in some capacity whatsoever - but your writeup makes me think that my distaste could be precisely because these plot points have some serious implications which makes the inherent story structure of AA to bite more than it could chew. Anyway "you can use some tricks if it's helping people" is a pretty concise message that may encapsulate this conundrum...

...which is understandable in a game and a heroic, but an utter rubbish if we detach ourselves from the protagonists' POV. Like, even Edgeworth was truly believing he's doing the right thing in his early career. Besides even the "helping other people" part is fluctuating between different representatives of one profession. Phoenix is called out by Edgeworth in 2-4 becuse defense attorneys aren't heroes and they just make sure everyone is tried fairly. But only 4 games later we got a character who represents this message - Raymond Shie Eddie Fender. I probably derailed your ask beyong possible, but this too, is an argument of how inconsistent the series in its priorities.

I hope there is at least one comprehensive thought about this matter, because this issue is something that could be explored and discussed from very different perspectives... And here I mused about how and why these inconsistencies work, but all in all, I agree that there's no clear-cut stance in the series about what is corrupt and what is not even within one writer team's works

[alijuan]

My durge Kieran. This name given by his adoptive parents means “little dark one” (because of his hair but i like the duality).

His appearance is mostly based on the Slayer avatar of Bhaal (a humanoid male corpse) but more “normal”, without lacerations and other stuff because he shouldn’t attract too much unnecessary attention. His skin often looks even paler than Astarion’s (partly because of the black hair) so I headcanon he’s been mistaken for a vampire instead of Astarion at least once.

I think Bhaal would create a shapeshifter (or shapechanger?) durge. Kieran can change appearance and become any humanoid race. This is his “true” or “original” form crafted by Bhaal. When Urge is “awake” he has fangs and black hands with claws.

At first i made an elf durge but i thought human would suit him better and provide a contrast between common race appearance and the divine features. He is not human anyway. He lives much longer (probably immortal from the beginning), can regenerate (not perfect but still), can meditate instead of sleep and has low-light vision. He also has strong bite force, just for fun.

Divine soul sorcerer. I’m disappointed this subclass wasn’t added to the game.

He’s kind of a trickster archetype, especially in post-canon.

And of course Kieran is in love with Astarion. They’re wonderful together and i like the contrast of their hair lol

[dice-nagito-ace]

Nine Clowns Walk Into A Hospital

king: hey wouldn't it be funny if we started dominating the world like joker keeps joking about

queen: king, you fucking megalomaniac queen: we go with russia first

OR; Post-Game VR AU where DICE, without it's beloved leader, commit to the bit.

so it was real and it wasn't, almost a sick imitation of limbo, purgatory in which they signed their lives away into it.

they're left in a room where they're all fine, technically, but there are echos of the experience that they can't shake off and they can't, exactly, talk about it, NDAs were such a pain.

they've all agreed to keep contact, if nothing else but the fact that only they could understand what it was like, their own bond forged in blood.

except, there was only one left missing, surgery had to be done the moment his simulation was disconnected, to stop the stress on his bones.

they don't know how to approach him, his presence lingered all the same within their minds, either way.

they're not sure on who's going to come out that door, the one before, the one after or an amalgamation of both.

they're not sure what they want to see.

they never get to.

because there's a knock on a different door and out comes and comes and it never stops until it does and now there's nine new people in their fragile haven, all in white suits and wearing masks, falling in line, waiting.

they ask– of course they ask and the one of the smaller ones, smiles, bared teeth and friendly but no doubt, ready to bite.

"we're waiting for joker."

it takes a while, but the detective is the first, easy enough to connect really, when he looks and sees– checkered items, somewhere on their person, black and white, whether that be socks, bracelets or their masks.

"you're- DICE...?"

they grin but say nothing else, waiting, watching, they're not here for them.

and when the doors burst open, grand entrance for a grand leader, heterochromatic eyes– and wasn't that a surprise, it shouldn't but it is– taking stock of the room, pausing in recognition to the lackeys he's missed, mouth parting to call only to stop.

kokichi stares, no grins, no cheeky remarks and it's almost more off putting to see him without his sharp edges and the DICE members fidget and squirm.

"what did you do?"

one of them cracks, "it was king's idea."

"lead by jack's unit!" "under queen's orders!"

they fall into squabbling and they have to blink and wonder why the fuck were they intimidated at all by these people.

"my royal flush, my sweet suits." kokichi trills in the tone of a waiting disappointed father or a simmering angry mother, a role reversal that has them all silenced as he smiles.

"what did you do?"

it's quiet, one of the boys cough.

"you won the russian election?"

...what.

but the biggest surprise was that kokichi wasn't, instead looking exasperated and checking his phone.

"i was gone for a month."

"it was a bet-" "we wanted to see if we could-" "come on, joker, you kept saying stuff about world domination-!" "you like the cold!" "we can go ice skating for free now-" "joker, please don't be mad-" "dad-" "HA! you called him dad, again!" "da- joker, it's a gift, surprise?"

DICE all but scrambles over to their boss, one of them begins putting on a hat and cape and his signature bandana, on top of the hospital gown he was still wearing.

"who were the other candidates?"

"they were assholes, joker-" "nooo, i don't want them in power." "come on, joker, they're letting us have panta imported there." "the public loves you-" "plus with danganronpa you're already in the public eye-"

they all watch as DICE fall over themselves to make up to their disgruntled head of the organization.

"and i'm guessing we have new recruits?"

"yeah!!! you're not lying when you said you have 10k now, boss!"

"gods, you're all clowns." "hey now, boss you called us a circus for a reason!"