#hes at his most thoughtful when hes Confused and Sad but now hes no longer confused and sad now hes here to punch someone

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

sorry if this is like uncomfortable or off limits but uhhh

really sweet and loving smut with dave- him and his gf have been dating for a few years now but shes still a virgin and whenever Dave made advances on her she would go until they got their pants off bc she was too embarressed- but one day, Dave makes sure they have the most perfect day together, going out and getting fav foods, doing fav actvoties all the good stuff and hopes the night will end w them in bed. she hesitates a lot but agrees none the less and they get the the bedroom and kissing and stuff and when he has her laid out on the bed he reaches to take off her skirt/pants but she gets really nervous and scared again bc she thinks that hell think shes a monster or ugly or messed up but she just has SH scars on her thighs and dave reassures her and comforts her that nothing vcould make him think that and he takes them off and feels a bit sad that she once did that but kisses them and praises her and is just very sweet and then its gentle loving smut

sorry this is so so so so so so so so so long and confusing but yah love ur fics btw

A/n: Something about Dave just gives me the vibes of “hurt her and I’ll kill you” but in a “I’ll give anything for her” kind of way, y’know?

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), angst, talk about self harm, brief description of scars, drugs (just at the beginning), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"She's just gonna stop you again." Junior said, chuckling as he held the joint between his fingers out for Dave to take.

The ginger scoffed as he took the joint, bringing to his lips. "She won't, she said she was ready." He insisted, holding the air in as he spoke before letting smoke flood out his nose.

Junior made a face and Dave pushed him, knocking him off the box he was sitting on. They just laughed, so hard Dave fell off his own box and they laughed harder.

"Fuck, we are so high." Junior mused, reaching for the joint back.

Dave had planned out the perfect day for you, a walk down through the park, down by a creek and taking a straight from there to a new café he knew you'd been wanting to go check out. Then it was back to your place and he'd finally get to have you to himself.

Everything had been going great, just the way he planned, although he hadn't expected the food to be so pricey, but it didn't matter so long as he got to see you smile.

As you walked with him up the street, getting closer to your house, you could tell something was on his mind but he wouldn't say.

"Come on! Just give me a hint." You pleaded, tugging on his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!" He said, laughing at your insistence.

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment as you turned the corner, your house coming into view. "Tell me or no you're sleeping outside." Dave stopped completely at that.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes wide in fear that you weren't joking.

You bit your lip as you thought it over, eventually shaking your head. "No, I want my cuddles tonight." Dave let out the breath he'd been holding in and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that." You chuckled as he lifted you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear. "I'm serious, I'm not a dog, I'm your boyfriend."

"That you are, Davie, that you are." You purred, kissing along his jaw as he walked the rest of the way to your house.

He pulled the keys from the back pocket of your jeans and opened the door, letting you hold onto him until he set you down on your bed. He hovered over top of you between your legs, arms on either side of your head, caging you in while his soft hair fell around his face, framing it.

Not that you could see it, his lips barely left yours for longer than a second to mumbled something into your mouth. However, you felt his hand sliding lower on your body, groping your chest which he'd done countless times before, moving down your sides and squeezing your hips and waist, mapping out your curves.

His hands didn't stop and he unbuttoned your jeans before you could stop him. "Davie-Davie, wait." You said, pushing on his shoulders until he pulled away.

"Why, what-what happened?" He asked, looking over you for anything that could be wrong, searching for what was making you uncomfortable.

"I- we-we have to stop." You said, squirming under him.

"Why?" He asked, brows furrowing slightly. He didn't mean to get upset but it was hard not to, he loved you, he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to show you how much he loved you. "Tell me why, I'll get off if you just tell me why."

You nervously bit your lip, holding yourself up on your elbows. It's not that you didn't want to go further, you tried to convince yourself every single time that it would be fine but you had to stop before he saw what you'd done to yourself when you were younger.

"I- my legs are... I have scars." You muttered, looking down to the sheets instead of him.

"Scars?" He repeated, looking for confirmation. "Like, stretchmarks?" He asked. "You're scared I won't like your fucking stretchmarks? Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me-"

"They're not fucking stretchmarks, Dave." You bit, cutting him off.

He stared at you for a moment, not having expected you to use such a harsh tone with him. "Then what is it?" He asked, his voice significantly lighter.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. "They're from me..." You mumbled, still not looking at him.

The pieces slowly connected in his mind and his expression softened. "Sweetheart, you made them?" He asked, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "Why? Why would you do that?"

You chewed your cheek, not really having an answer, not one that would be good enough for him, anyway. "When I was younger... Highschool was hard, Dave." You mumbled, hoping even though it was vague it would satisfy him.

Dave looked over your eyes for a good long moment before inhaling deeply. "Well, highschools over, you have me now." He kissed your lips and moved down to your jaw and neck. "And I love" then he kissed your collarbone and pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach, "every." he kissed just under your bra. "Single." Your abdomen. "Part." Finally he tugged your jeans down and you lifted your lips to let him.

He took in the scars embedded in your otherwise pristine skin, some deeper than others, all over your thighs. His gaze met yours as he continued to pull your jeans off. "I love this part of you, too." He said, making sure you heard him. "I don't love that you felt like you had to do this, but I love you no matter what."

Dave adjusted himself so he was laying between your legs, his arms hooked under your thighs as he held the plush flesh of them in handfuls.

He planted tender kisses over your scarred tissue, looking up at you periodically to make sure you were watching and enjoying yourself.

Soon his kisses moved to your panties, watching you twitch and bite your lip. Dave smiled and kissed right over your clothed clit. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued. "It's gonna feel a lot better soon." He assured, giving a last kiss to your scars before pulling your panties out of the way and licking up your folds.

He hummed, satisfied with the noise it drew from you. His tongue swirled around your clit, listening to the whines you let slip passed your lips as he did. "God, you sound so pretty." He mused, licking up you again before his tongue delved into you.

Your hand slammed down onto the mattress, clutching onto the sheets as he fucked you on his muscle, his eyes staring up at you the entire time as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit. Your hands clenched and flexed, mind going blurry at the sensations he was bringing between your twitching legs and trembling thighs.

He watched you come undone, watched your hands finally let go of the sheets to grab onto his hair so you could pull him right to you, holding his face to your cut as you rode out your high on his face. "Hah-! Oh-oh, fuck, Dave!" You moaned, back arching off the bed and your head fell back.

Your foot pushed down on Dave's back gently, moving down his torso as you slowly came down from your high, breathing as heavy as your eyelids.

Dave moved back up the bed, wiping his mouth and chin of your juices. "How was that?" He asked as he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Feeling loved yet?" He teased, pecking your cheek.

You chuckled, hands going to his shoulders. "Mm... I could use some more love." You said, pulling him down to kiss you. "You know, to really feel it." He smirked at the implications of your words, grinding against you, his jeans snagging your clit and making you whimper into the kiss.

"I can do that, I can definitely do that." He muttered against your lips. He reached down to undo his own jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed before he pulled away and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

He looked down at you, still with your shirt bunched up by your tits. You sat up, pulling it off and wrapping your arms around his neck, lips crashing into his once more.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only taking quick gasps for short breaths. Dave unclipped your bra and slid it off your arms before trying to get your panties off, only to eventually give up and just snap the flimsy strings on the sides.

Dave quickly got his own boxers off and pulled you into his lap, easily slipping into you in a swift thrust and holding you down as you moaned. "Ngh- just sit-sit still for a minute, it'll- fuck, it'll feel good in a second." He stammered, trying to hide his own sounds, his muscular arms tightening around you.

Needing more friction you reached down to rub your clit, Dave took it as a sign to start moving so he rolled his hips up, bucking into you. You choked out a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Dave snapped his hips into you, tip of his dick angled just right for you. When he heard the moan that left you, felt your muscles relax in against him, he knew he found your sweet spot and hit it repeatedly, setting a steady rhythm.

"That's it, let me do all the work, let me show you how much I love you." He said, mouth not far from your ear so you could hear every word of his praise. "You sound so pretty, and, fuck, let me show you how much you deserve to be loved."

Part of you wanted to stay hidden in his neck, but the other part won, the part that wanted to pull away and bounce on him, to hold onto his shoulders and watch him fuck you.

Even sitting in his lap you were only barely eyelevel with him. His bruised lips parted slightly, just enough for soft grunts and grown to leave him, along with whatever affection he decided to spill to you. His eyelids were heavy, lust and adoration swirling in his pupils.

The knot in your gut was tightening again, Dave was close and pulsing in your gummy walls. "Don't-don't ever do that again." He blurted, struggling to keep the same rhythm. You tried to ask what he was talking about but it just came out as moans. "If-if you ever, ever feel like that again you-you come to me and I-I'll- fuck, I cah-can't-!" With a few final thrusts he finished inside you, cum painting your insides.

You followed shortly after, fingers still on your clit, the warm, gooey feeling he spilt in you was nice too.

Dave lowered you down onto the bed, pulling out and curling up beside you. His arms stayed nicely wrapped around you as you laid your head on his chest.

"So," you started once you got your breathing right again, "do you want to finish what you were saying?"

Dave snorted and shook his head. "No fucking way." He brought a hand up to play with your hair. "You're tired, go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." You didn't have to be told twice, smiling softly and letting the sound of his heartbeat and breathing lull you to sleep.

Dave lay there awake, tired but not enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about what might've driven you to do such a thing to yourself. He didn't see you as a monster, some messed up psychiatric patient, you were still his love, his girlfriend. You were still you, just with a little more hurt that he needed to help heal.

"If..." He started, voice low to avoid waking you up. "If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself... you come to me first, sweetheart, I'll help." He knew you couldn't hear him so he continued. "You can hurt me all you want, can't break plastic... but you, love... you are the stained glass in a century old chapel."

[lowpolyshadow]

just need everyone to know despite my emo posts and wailings and being completely normal over sa2 that i think shadow should be an asshole. just a complete bastard. fuck that guy

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[merthosus]

The Deli

Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside. Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you"

I stumble out of the train, almost tripping over the edge. This can't be, he would never. I hate him, I never thought that I could do this but I do. My heart was shattered, it felt like it was being torn out of my torso and ripped in thousand parts. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Diego? I have no idea where I am, or rather when I am. But I didn't care I just walked along the train station. My heels clicked with every step they took. The sound echoed with every thud on the white tiles.

I caught them. Five was missing and in my head there where millions of horrible ideas what could be happened to him. I can't believe I worried. We gone through so much shit and he shattered everything just like it was nothing. I traveled so far with these damn trains, no idea how I could possible come home again, just to caught them kissing each other. These assholes! Slowly the sadness turned into anger and every step I take gets louder.

In the distance I see red light reflecting on the floor. I swear to god if this is a trainstation-stripclub I trow myself on the rails. Seeing so much today what I couldn't believe makes me getting the wildest ideas, expecting anything but normal. I step closer and what I see is a Diner. Without hesitation I enter. I would kill for a chocolate croissant and a nice cup of coffee right now. But as soon as I entered everything went silent. Even a fly could be heard.

As shocked as they were as shocked I was. "This can't be", I mumble to myself. Every pair of eyes, which stared me down, were his. The Five which was now coming out of the back, let his tablet fall onto the ground. The sudden loud noise made the other ones fall out of their trance. "Y/n?", a few said, but others were just looking. "She's mine!", one of the Five's screams. Others were already talking him down. Another was punching a different Five and two got them apart. Without hesitation one five stood up and walked towards me. "I am sorry it's been a long time since they seen you", he says confusing me even more. "i...I what the hell is going on?", I ask, not believing what I saw standing infont of me.

"You just kissed Lila and now you are talking with me as nothing has happened? And what is this here? A stupid joke?", I ask him outraged. "Oh no darling I am not the five you know. I am coming out of a different timeline, but wouldn't you like to sit as I explain?", he asks politely. Like it was the most normal thing I go to sit with him at one of the diner tables, ignoring the fact that at least twenty versions of my boyfriend were looking down at me. As we sit down the Five on the counter rushed to our table.

"The black coffee, cappuccino and the chocolate croissant will be on your table soon", he stumbles, while looking at me. "How...?", I begin to ask but he was faster gone than I could blink. I feel more comfortable now as I saw how the attention was no longer drawn to me. "Explain, now", I demand as I was staring the Five before me down. "Feisty, as I remembered you", he says. I can't help myself but smile a little bit. "Why are there so many of you? And why was the one so obsessed", I ask. He crocked his neck. "We are all different Fives, out of different timelines. Most of them lost their Y/n, that's why things got out of hand", he explained. "So your five cheated on you? That's new, none of us did that, guess a new timeline has formed. Why would he do that...?", he asks himself.

I was shocked, overdosed with unimaginable information. "So what happened to your Y/n?", I ask him, just releasing I went to far. "She died in a fight, Hazel shot her", he says. "Five over there, who said you were his. She killed herself", he explains some more. I can't believe what he was just saying. "I would never do such a thing", I say. "No. Yourself in this timeline wouldn't but the on in his did. It's the same with us, we are all the same but different at the same time. I would never cheat on you and that's the point", he looks down on the floor. "I will find him don‘t worry, he will pay for what he did", he says while my eyes get big. "No... no he's still my Five I...", I try to bring the words out of me.

"Darling...", he leans over the table looking me staring into the eyes. "You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you. Every single one of us is better as this little small cocked asshole", he says. I get nervous and have trouble looking him into the eyes. "He doesn't have a small...", I try to say. "I know I know...", he interrupts me.

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[twisted-broth]

A Human's Touch

Mr Gap x Reader

(Anything in bold is other world language)

It had been a while now since you had returned to the other world. It was hard to tell time here, but at least you knew that this was where you belonged. It was almost laughable to think that you once tried to leave this place.

You would never admit it, but you really owed a lot to the shit eating grin that always manages to pop up whenever you need him. Even now, with you life no longer in constant peril, he pops up somewhere nearby quite often. It could be from the crack of your closet, inside your bag, or a random hole in the wall that you swear wasn't there before. As annoying as Mr Gap was, he was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He would even bring you things from the human world if you asked. For a price, of course.

You sigh as your "friend" holds one of your favorite books from the human world just out of reach. He was playing his favorite game again.

"Give leg." He demanded.

"Give foot." Was your counter offer. Most of your body parts would grow back, but it takes longer for bigger parts and more complex organs. Luckily there didn't seem to be a word in their language for liver or spinal column.

His expression twists for a moment, but the smile quickly returns. "Yes." He agrees.

The pain that radiates from your ankle would have made you pass out a few months ago, but now it only elicits a stifled grunt. You snatch the book from Mr. Gap's hand as he smiles at the newfound treasure that appears in his grasp. You sigh once more and put the book to the side before pressing an already bloodied towel to your ankle.

With the bleeding successfully stopped, there was nothing else for you to do but lie in bed while you waited for it to grow back. You spared a glance towards your new book, but couldn't muster the energy to read it. The isolation of this world had been wearing on you. You had been spending time with Mr Silvair and Mr Chopped lately, but there was another recent earthquake that blocked off your path to them. You had yet to find the time to search for a new one.

With an arm draped over your eyes, you fell back against your threadbare pillow. The covers rustled around you, giving away the presence of another with you.

"Why sad?" You opened one eye to look down at your covers. The face of Mr Gap blended in with the darkness above your legs. If he had a body, he would be nearly lying on top of you. The part of your brain that was still human couldn't help but think that some actual physical touch would be nice.

"I one. Sad. Friend not here." Elaborating on the concept of loneliness using a lexicon of 100 words wasn't really a task you wanted to undertake at the moment.

You had thought Mr Gap would either leave or laugh at you, but to your surprise he looked confused. "I here." He responded.

Now it was your turn to be confused. If you weren't mistaken, he seemed almost offended that you hadn't called him a friend.

"You friend?"

"Yes." If this language had some equivalent of 'duh', you imagined that would be what he would say instead.

All you can do in response is blink at him. You really never imagined that Mr Gap would hang around you because he considered you a friend. If anything, you thought he just saw you as a an endless stream of various body parts. "Thank you. I like friend."

Hesitantly, you lifted a hand to reach up and stroke his head. He looked mildly disgusted (which was often his expression anyway), but didn't react otherwise. His hair wasn't exactly pleasant to touch- it was greasy and weirdly damp in places- but at least it was something of what you had been missing. He continued to humor you, but you decided not to push your luck on how long he would allow you to continue touching him.

"Why touch?" He asked when you were done.

"Human like touch. Make sad go away." It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you figured it would get the point across.

Hesitantly, one of his arms reaches out from beneath your covers. Your current working theory was that his arms just appeared whenever he needed them, but you haven't gotten around to asking him yet. Your positioning is a bit awkward, so he can't reach your head to return your pats. Instead, he pats you on the shoulder for a few seconds. His hands are cold and clammy, but those few seconds of touch are something you've been missing for a while.

You smile. Mr Gap could be annoying at best and cruel at worst, but it would seem that he does have a sweet side to him after all. You distantly wonder if some semblance of a normal relationship would be possible here. Unlikely, but it may not be as out of reach as you once thought.

"Thank you. You good friend." You said after a beat of silence. For a moment it appears like he isn't quite sure how to feel about your declaration. You don't imagine it's something people tell him often. After a second of thought, he returns your smile.

"Me good friend. You give heart?"

Well, you can work on that.

[yellowflwrss]

“i’m so sorry baby”;dick grayson

• in which dick does the “shut up” prank on his girlfriend while she’s already having a bad day

- fluff but some angst

it had been all over tik tok, an app dick was constantly on when he wasn’t patrolling or beating people’s asses, annoying his siblings or girlfriend. it was videos of boyfriends doing a prank on their girlfriend, secretly filming in a car or in their houses as their girlfriend walks in and says something. they then cut them off with a “shut up.”

obviously, the prank can go many ways, getting amusing reactions out of the girlfriend and a funny video whenever it ends well. knowing how you are, dick wanted to see how’d you react to this prank specifically. you were sarcastic and kind and your attitude was probably what he loved the most about you. so, he was beyond excited to see what you’d say to him.

earlier that day, you had asked dick to pick you up from your nail appointment. first you had work but your boss said you’d get out early that day (for whatever reason you didn’t care to remember) and you had arranged to get your nails done afterwards for fun.

dick was going to arrive an hour earlier than he did, but he received a text from you simply asking if he could pick you up a little later, and of course dick agreed. he’s do anything for you.

parked outside the nail place he had gotten familiar with over time, dick decided to set up his phone to film the prank. a few moments later he saw you walk out of the nail salon and his smile brightened, the camera catching it all. when he saw you get closer his smile dropped, getting into character. dick unlocked your door and you sat in, putting your bag by your feet and getting comfortable. you didn’t seem as enthusiastic as he thought you would after getting your nails done, but dick continued on either way.

“hey babe. how was your day?” your face adorned a small smile.

“it was good.” was all he said. your face barely dropped, but it did nonetheless. you were confused as to why dick hadn’t asked you the same thing, when without fail that’s what he did.

“that’s good. sorry my nails took a little longer than usual, my boss made me—“ that’s when it was dick’s cue to cut you off, and oh he felt so bad.

“just shut up (y/n),” he felt like such a shitty boyfriend but he was too far in for the prank to back out now.” without looking at your face cause he knew he’d break character, dick continued “just—just shut up.” he shook his head and placed it onto the steering wheel.

your face had dropped to one of sorrow. the camera had captured you looking so sad at your boyfriend’s words and you felt so hurt. “oh. okay.” was all you said as you resulted to staring at your lap as you held back the tears that were threatening to spill out.

when all dick heard was silence for a second or two, he pulled his head to look at yours. and he knew he couldn’t go any longer when he noticed the state you were in. “baby—“ he started, about to apologize.

that’s when you started balling, tears streaming down your face as it covered the “sorry” that he repeated alongside a few apologetic words. your makeup soon got messed up as you rubbed the back of your hands to stop the tears from flowing, crying even harder when you noticed your makeup was messed up too.

dick tried to grab ahold of your hand as you cried, embarrassed. you pulled away and reached for the doorknob. not because you were mad at dick but because you were embarrassed, you felt like a child. before you could open the door, dick had reached over and pulled you to him onto his lap with two hands.

if it were any other situation, you’d be blushing and fawning over what your boyfriend had just done. but it wasn’t that situation. and despite the words he said to you, you buried your head into his neck as you cried some more. at that point you weren’t crying because of him, you were crying because of the day you just had.

“baby i’m so sorry. it was a prank—one of those tik tok pranks. i didn’t mean it at all.” he held your head as you slowly stopped the tears, still with your eyes full. dick killed your forehead and the top of your head then your cheeks and grabbed your hands softly and with care and kissed them as well.

“babe your nails look so beautiful, what’s wrong?” he keeps his grip tight but caresses your face, wiping the black mascara tears from your face.

hiccuping, you shook your head, “no, it’s fine don’t worry—“

“(y/n) tell me, i’m here to listen. do i need to beat anyone up? you know i’ll do it gorgeous.”

scoffing with a smile, you shook your head and intertwined your fingers with dick’s as you continued to sit on his lap in his car and tell him the reason for your bad mood.

“it was going all good. but then i had to stay longer to do some extra work that my boss assigned me. i hated it cause i wanted to get my nails done and see you. and then i had to call my nail salon and tell them to push it to a little later if they could—thank god they could or else i’d probably still be waiting to get them done.” you sniffled from crying earlier and continued on, “then the person who usually does my nails was sick and i had to have someone else do it. but they messed up my nails and i thought it was a quick fix so i asked if they could change a certain thing on it because im paying for their time and id charge them extra and everything.” you started to get teary eyed again and with a small squeeze of your hand from dick, you continued on with your story.

then the person doing my nails scoffed at me and rolled her eyes then started talking shit about me to their coworkers in their language. but i understood the language they were speaking. and i felt like shit.” you started to softly cry once again “i felt so bad to make them do it again and they were also making fun of me and everything else. a-and when i was thanking them profusely and all that, they all rolled their eyes at me and i payed them extra because i felt guilty. and they were just so rude. then when you said this to me i just had enough.” you were now spilling out tears once more.

“baby, it’s all okay don’t worry. those idiots are so rude. you don’t deserve any of that. and i’m so so sorry for what i said, the prank. you don’t deserve any of it you’re too sweet and you’re the best girlfriend, i’m so sorry.”

you smiled and ran your freshly manicured fingers through your boyfriend’s hair. “it’s okay dick. i forgive you. i probably would’ve forgiven you anyway.”

“i know you would’ve which sucks even more. i feel so bad. let’s go home and watch criminal minds with chocolate. and let’s cuddle. you’re getting so many kisses.” he profusely tried to say things he knew would make his girlfriend happy. even if being around him made her happy enough.

your eyes lit up and you wiped your face in fear of how you currently looked because of how much you previously cried. “i love criminal minds.” you whispered in excitement. over the past few weeks, dick had been so busy whenever the two of you had down time, so you weren’t able to chill out and be a lazy couple of couch potatoes. so when you heard this you were so happy.

with the same energy you currently had, dick said, “i know, you love criminal minds.”

“i love you.” your eyes looked lovingly into his.

“i love you more, and im so sorry for earlier baby.” even though your eyes were glued to dick and your mind was blank with the fact that you had such an amazing boyfriend, dick was practically 10x more in love with you, no matter how much you said you loved him more. his heart hurt when you hurt and when you were happy, he was even happier.

—

you had given dick permission to post the tik tok. he felt so bad about it but you kind of found it cute how much he visibly cared in the tik tok. and you were also greatful the camera didn’t catch what you thought was an ugly crying face.

user1 STOP THIS IS SO CUTE???

user2 i wonder what bruce thought of this

therdh00d dick head you should get canceled for making her cry

imbatman tell (y/n) i said hello

imbatman you’re an imbecile for making (y/n) cry.

(later on, dick found out that it was damian using bruce’s private tik tok account to text these messages)

[allaboutsturns]

𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘 𝓢𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓣𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽?

christopher sturniolo x reader

warnings: minor angst

summary: you’ve been living with the triplets for about 6 months now. you’ve always kind of had a thing for chris and you thought maybe he felt the same way. your guess is confirmed when one night chris asks to sleep in your room after a nightmare.

contains: fluff, minor angst, cuddling, sad chris, reciprocated feelings.

• 2:30am

i shift in bed as i am woken up by three soft knocks at my bedroom door. i bring my hands up to my eyes rubbing the sleep away.

my head tilts to the side slightly as three more gentle knocks are heard at my door. i clear my throat and manage to hum a response to the knocks, “hm?”

“y/n..?” i hear a familiar voice mutter from the other side of the closed door. i pull the comforter off of my body and throw my legs off the side of the bed placing my feet on the ground and standing up.

i walk over to the door, my feet dragging across the floor as exhaustion moves throughout my tired body. once i get to the door, i lift a hand and grab the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open ever so slightly.

my eyes are met by chris’s tired gaze. he looks sad, restless even. “chris..?” i murmur, my voice cracking slightly since it hadn’t acclimated to being awake yet.

he shifts his gaze to the floor and raises a hand to the back of his neck, “i’m sorry.. did i wake you..?” he mumbles quietly, almost too quiet for me to hear. he looks back up at my face and i nod in response to his question.

“can i.. actually no. this is stupid, i’m so sorry for waking you up. goodnight..” he says frantically as his fingers fidget with one another, his body turning to walk away. i place a hand on his shoulder gently, inviting him to come into my room.

“what’s up, chris?” i ask quietly, my voice sympathetic as a worried expression washes over the features of my face. i walk over and sit down on the end of my bed, patting the mattress, signaling for chris to sit beside me.

he steps into my room and closes the door behind him slowly before shuffling towards my bed and sitting down beside me. he stares at the floor the entire time and i just look at him, my eyes fixated on him. his hair falls into his face and i can no longer get a clear visual of his sad expression.

he finally opens his mouth to respond to my previous question, “i just. can i sleep in here tonight..?” he asks nervously. my eyebrows furrow with confusion at his question. chris has never been good at sleeping alone, it was always easier for him to have another body present. it made him feel safer, but he has never asked to sleep in your room. he would always ask one of his brothers, matt or nick.

“yeah of course.. why though?” i ask gently. his body shifts uncomfortably and he barely moves his head to look at me. i can see his tired eyes through his brunette hair.

“i had a nightmare…” he whispers quietly, his voice slightly breaking with each words as his eyes began to well with tears. i frown before placing a hand on his back and tracing mindless shapes with my finger tips.

he always loved when i would rub his back. sometimes when i was sitting on the couch or we were all watching a movie together he would lay his head in my lap and ask me to rub his back. it always made him smile and most of the time he would fall asleep within 10 minutes.

“do you wanna talk about it, love?” i say softly. by now i’ve noticed the tears threatening to escape his eyes and it rips at my heart. i have never seen this boy cry and it would absolutely break me to witness that.

he sniffles as a single tear manages to escape his eye, “uh.. it was..” he pauses, taking in a shakey breath, “it was about you..” he says so quietly i almost didn’t hear him.

my expression shifts to one of confusion for one single second before i wipe the tear away from his face with my free hand, “what about me, hon..?” i ask. i always used pet names for chris, he loved it and i loved the way it made him smile almost every time.

his body started to shake as more tears fell, his breathing slightly picking up, “you.. we were..” he stuttered, his voice breaking.

“we were in a car accident and i..” he paused, taking a deep breath in through his nose, “i couldn’t save you.. and you d..” sobs erupted from his body as he fell into me, gripping the fabric of my tank top tightly.

i moved my hand from his back to his head and started gently playing with his hair. my free hand resided on his cheek as tears collected under it, my thumb gently moving back and forth on his cheek.

“oh my love..” i whisper into his hair. i can feel his body heave with each panicked breath he takes, “chris, baby.. look at me, please..?” i say, my tone sympathetic. for a moment we just sit there with him in my arms before he slowly looks up at me, his eyes red and puffy. i frown as tears threaten to escape into the world but i blink them away.

“i’m okay, i’m still here and i’m okay.. i promise.” i say with a gentle smile, “i’m not going anywhere..” i say placing my forehead to his, shutting my eyes. his eyes are now shut as well.

i pull away and stand up slowly, “let’s get you comfy,” i say as i reach out a hand for him to grab. i help him up off my bed and walk over to the side of the bed that’s still relatively untouched. i pull the comforter back and look up at chris, “here, hon. lay down,” i say, my words followed by a small yawn. he lays himself onto the mattress and i bring the covers up to his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. he pushes his head into the kiss.

i pull away and walk over to my side of the bed. i lay down and pull the covers up to my neck, turning my body to face the boy. i lift the covers up slightly, inviting him to lay in my arms. he scoots closer resting his head in the crook of my neck as he snakes his arms around my body, pulling me even closer to him. i can tell he’s trying to get as close to me as he can.

“goodnight, sweet boy,” i whisper into the top of his head lovingly. i can feel his breathing against my neck. it’s finally slowed since he was able to match my breathing.

“y/n..” he mumbles into my neck. i hum a response with closed eyes, “mhm..?”

“i love you.. thank you,” he whispers so quietly i’m almost convinced he didn’t even hear his own words. i kiss the top of his head and smile gently, “i love you..” i reply, my voice tired.

he shakes his head slightly, “no.. i love you,” he says, pulling his head away from my neck and looking at me. i open my eyes and look at him, a smile tugging at my lips.

“i know, chris. i love you,” i reply, already knowing what kind of love he meant. it was very reciprocated. his face barely twists in confusion before he smiles softly at me.

“can i kiss you..?” he asks, i can hear the subtle nervousness in his voice. even though i’ve known he had feelings for me since nick accidentally let it slip when him and i were hanging out, it still shocks me.

i smile and nod my head. he lets out a little chuckle, “words please, sweetheart,” he musters. he’s never used a pet name for me and as soon as he did i felt my cheeks flush a deep red, “yes you can, chris,” i say, giving him the verbal permission he wanted.

a second passes before he finally connects his soft lips with mine. i lean into the kiss, not wanting it to end. it’s nothing like how i imagined it would be in the sense that it made me feel so alive and loved. my stomach filled with butterflies.

chris pulled away from the kiss before placing another gentle kiss on my forehead. a smile spreads across both of our faces and he moved his head back to the crook of my neck.

“can i take you on a date tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes now closed as well as mine.

“yeah.. i’d like that,” i reply, sleep slowly taking over my body.

“okay awesome..” he whispers.

our breathing is synced and our hearts beat together as we give in to sleep. his body heat comforts me. this is the best sleep i’ve ever gotten and i won’t ever want it to be any other way from here on out.

• 3:10am

divider by: @/Kafekitsune

thank you so much for reading! this is the first time i’m uploading something i’ve written to the public so i apologize about any mistakes and what not! hope you enjoyed!

- ace <3

[slttygeto]

WHAT WAS I MADE FOR?

⤷ THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY. | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴synopsis: your boyfriend was made to be the center of attention, to receive so much love--not to deal with your sadness like it was his.

જ⁀➴content warning: fem!reader, angst, reader is a little insecure, just v sad, satoru best boy.

જ⁀➴ word count: 0,8k.

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

my boyfriend is so cool

that was always your thought when you went out with him for dinner. he’d invite a bunch of his friends along with their partners, and you’d spend the rest of the night chatting and laughing. you noticed how suguru was always the center of attention, even if he didn’t want to be. his best friend was equally magnetic. like a moth to a flame, they would both shine so bright.

and you’re suguru’s girlfriend. his pretty girl whom he met in college and has been with ever since. three years down the road, and many more to come, as he liked to say. you liked to believe that you and suguru were meant to be together, a match made in heaven. despite your different personalities and approach in life, you always managed to find a way to make it work.

always.

tonight, dinner tasted a little weird on your tongue. you’re sure it’s just you because everyone else seems to be enjoying their food just fine. no one seems to notice the way you scrunch up your face after the first bite, slowly setting the fork down and flashing suguru a polite smile, to which he immediately asks

“are you okay?”

am I okay? you’re not sure if you are, but you nod anyway. you squeeze his shoulder and motion at a friend who was talking to him, asking him to focus on the conversation.

you hated feeling like this. you could feel your stomach hurt, and your heart sinks a little as you try your best to fight back the insecurities. why were they resurfacing at such a time?

you weren’t supposed to feel this way. you’ve talked about this before with suguru, and he reassured you many times that he was dating you because he loved you. even three years later, you still can’t find it in you to tell him that it seems like he deserves better.

not someone who cries when they look in the mirror, or deflate throughout the day for no absolute reason. suguru deserved someone who takes care of him, not a person who is constantly so sad.

you excuse yourself from the table you’re sitting at, muttering to your boyfriend some lame excuse about how you need to fix your makeup. truth be told, if you had stayed at that table any longer, you would’ve thrown up the food and made a mess.

you walk inside the bathroom and as dramatic as it may seem, you lean against the door and let out a sob. it’s quiet, you don’t want anyone to hear you. but then it gets louder and louder until you turn on the faucet to try to drown out the sound of your cries.

this is so stupid.

you’re trying to wipe your makeup, even if it seems a little impossible to fix it right now (but you somehow manage). you’ve been in the bathroom for about 7 minutes now, and you know that if you stay there any longer, suguru would come looking for you.

you step out of the bathroom when you’re sure you look presentable and bump into a strong chest. your heart stills.

please don’t let it be—

“are you okay?” thank god, it was satoru.

you’ve known him ever since you met your boyfriend, and he’s been one of the most reliable friends ever. he was nice, kind, a little cocky but given his looks and fortune, he had a lot to brag about.

“oh, yeah. my stomach was a little upset, come on let’s go—“ you’re avoiding his eyes, but satoru can tell from your swollen lips that something else happened.

“you were crying, weren’t you?” his eyebrows are pinched, and you fight back tears when you look up at him and see the concerned look on his face.

“please, don’t tell suguru.” your voice cracks when you say his name, and satoru’s face morphs into one of confusion.

“but–“

“satoru, please. it’s not what he’s made for.”  

it’s not what he’s made for.

satoru’s lips part in shock, but he can feel his heart clenching a little at your words. he doesn’t know what to tell you, his mind is blank as he stares down at you with icy blue eyes.

“okay then, let’s go back,” he doesn’t press it, slowly leads the way back to your table and you’re immediately overflown with questions from suguru.

“are you okay? is it your stomach? we can get you meds–“

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him with a warm hand on top of his, but the look on his face tells you that he doesn’t believe you. not one bit.

but suguru doesn’t have to know that you’re not okay. after all, he does deserve better and you’re getting in the way of that. 

⤷ the song absolutely destroyed me, so i had to write something.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[kizzer55555]

Dismissed on a Technicality

Ok so Danny accidentally killed the joker. He was working part time as a taxi driver. Funny thing is that he got hired in the city next to Amity Park. The problem is some moron decided to have him drive aaaalllll the way from Amity to Gotham city. And Danny might have run over the Joker while there.

Look…he didn’t feel like a human. Danny (as someone half dead) can feel souls and he could only barley feel anything from the guy so it just looked like a blob in front of the road. He thought it was an animal or something! Danny was short on time so he was going pretty fast. And drivers Ed was very clear that one is NOT to swerve the car to avoid animals as it causes the car to go into other lanes and can cause a crash, especially in a big city. It’s sad, but it’s true, better to run over the poor animal.

So Danny hit the gas.

Only to be greeted with the face of a clown smashed into his windshield.

Danny stopped the car.

He got out.

Looked around at all the people of the city staring at him (no longer cowering as Joker went on a monologue, holding them at gunpoint while waiting for a bat.)

Danny looks down as the mangled corpse sprawled over the front of his taxi.

And he pulled out his phone and called 911 to report a car crash. In front of everybody.

When Batman arrived, Danny held out his hands and willingly let them be cuffed. Time to be taken to court!

Now one might think Danny would be panicking in this situation. After all, he just killed someone, even if it was on accident. But Danny had a different point of view and made it known in court.

It was a whole thing. Full courthouse, practically the entire city attending or watching on a live news feed. And who did Danny call to defend him as his lawyer?

Himself.

And this begins the most confusing and controversial court in the history of Gotham.

Now, what defines a human? Because according to the law it’s ‘anyone capable of speech or higher reasoning.’ But that cannot be. There are aliens and Atlanteans who fit those categories and they do not classify as human. And what about that demon the Justice League killed last week. The one with 2 snake heads and a hippo body? That thing could talk. What about being a Homo sapien capable of speech? But there is an entire city of talking gorillas. Therefore, the definition of human should be revised.

As for the Joker, he had many differences to the typical human. When he fell into a vat of chemicals it changed his very atomic structure physically and altered his mind mentally. Those gassed with Joker venom can be turned back but Joker’s transformation was permanent. Meaning the change occurred at the level of his very DNA.

Which begs the question. Is the Joker really human? And if not, is what Danny did really murder?

Let it be known that Daniel James Fenton is not trying to get out of his crime.

Despite his appearance, the joker was alive. He was breathing, had a heartbeat, and blood flowed through his veins (despite that blood being green).

So yes…Danny committed a crime. And he confesses in front of the entire court.

He confesses…to animal cruelty.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader 

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

-

next chapter is gonna be the last!

-

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[desideriumwriter]

could you do a like a gryfinndor luna lovegood type of reader with george?? like really ditzy or even reader being lunas older sister but she’s and being all silly weird girl like her?? <33

suchhhh a cutecutecute idea, ugh i love it. george and a "weird" ditzy girl is so perfect. ty for the request! apologizes for any mistakes, it's late and im too tired to proofread but too eager to wait and pf in the morning

wc: 1153

navi | g.w. masterlist

Occasionally George liked to practice on the Quidditch field by himself. Usually Sundays since everyone else was too tired to go out.

The field was especially empty today due to the rain; it was pouring down hard but George decided to take this as an opportunity to get used to games in the rain. He was still a bit mad over losing to Hufflepuff when Harry fainted in the rain last year.

George watched as the bludger's attention turned from him to what looked like another student walking around the field. He was confused as to why you were walking around in the pouring rain. 

His eyes widened in terror as he watched the ball go hurling towards you, panicking and flying down towards it.

He casted a stunning spell to keep the bludger from moving any more as he flew down.

He got up off his broom immediately once he got his feet on the grass, leaving it behind as he ran over to you, who was still looking at the bludger.

“I hope you didn’t do that because you thought I was an opponent.” Your eyes looked from the ball to George, seeming completely unbothered.

“No! No! I didn’t mean to do that at all! It was an accident! I swear I didn’t even realize you were there.”

“Most people don’t.” There was no sadness in your tone, you were just stating a fact. You were an awfully quiet walker. 

Though, George knew who you were, knew of you. And your “weird girl” reputation.

“Oh, um, well what are you doing in the middle of the pitch anyways?” He cleared his throat.

“Looking for my slippers.” George gave you a small, confused nod. 

“You think your slippers would be in the Quidditch pitch?” He let out an amused chuckle as he slid his goggles off his eyes, letting them sit on his forehead.

“Possibly, I have a problem with sleepwalking.”

“So, you came out here while it’s pouring?” 

“I’d rather not wait, I don’t mind the rain.” He watched as your stare tightened as you looked him up and down, “Your uniform is soaked.”

“So are your robes.” He gestured and you looked down at your school uniform. Your hood was up but no longer doing any help to keep from the rain. You were soaked head to toe, your hair sticking to your face.

You didn’t say anything as you grabbed George’s hand, your hold on his hand was light but you were able to pull him with you to the stand underneath the awnings.

“There, now we’re both clear from the rain.” You gave him such a kind smile, the kind that made him want to melt into the grass. Your hand was still wrapped around his in a loose grip.

Bringing his hand up closer and tracing your finger over his palm, he watched with knit brows as you stared again. 

“You have quite a lot of calluses.” You spoke blankly, turning his hand in yours.

“Thanks.” The way he said it made it sound more like a question rather than a response. 

“I have a moisturizer that could help. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of something like that with you and your brother's products.” You placed his hand nicely down at his side, treating it as if he couldn’t do it by himself. He found it cute.

“You know me?- You know about our shop?” He pointed to his chest, not sure how to figure out how’d you react. Most people were predictable when it came to the twins or their products. But you were terrifyingly hard to read with how nonchalant you were. 

“I once watched a kid eat one of those sweets you sell and his nose started bleeding a minute later in Flitwick's class.” You shrugged. George really wanted to repeat his first question since he’s never seen you before. Maybe once in the common room. But not on occasion.

“Good to know they’re working.” He hummed. Cold wind moved through the air, making the ends of your robe flutter. “I think you should go back to the castle, it’s only gonna get worse from here on. Do you need me to walk you back?” You nodded appreciatively before turning and already going on the move. 

You were walking surprisingly quick to the point George had to jog a small bit to catch up with you.

“You, uh, you never told me your name?” He said as he caught up, his face lit up once he heard you say your last name.

A Lovegood. Makes sense. George thought to himself.

“I’m surprised you haven’t pulled a prank on me yet.” You looked down at his shoes, watching as your feet moved in sync with each other.

“I’m not sure I know you well enough to do that yet. It’d be rude if I did.” He gave you an amused laugh. You gave him a small hum and you both continued to walk, no longer speaking.

Even though George had just met you after watching you nearly get taken out by a bludger and you having a very peculiar personality, the silence was comfortable. He didn’t feel super awkward, you were nice, you had a warming presence to him. You were pretty too.

A small gasp leaving your lips made his eyes immediately shoot in your direction, you stopped for a second before running over to a boulder, your slippers sitting neatly together in front of it.

“I knew they would show up eventually!” You cheered, this is the loudest George has heard you, yet your voice was barely near the height of a shout.

You grinned as you picked them up then grimaced at their dirtiness, George couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hm. They’re quite gross now. I was hoping the rain would wash them off.” You frowned as you saw the mud caked underneath them. “I guess I’ll have to find a spell to fix them myself.” George couldn’t stop staring at you, you were so pretty, yet so strange. He loved it.

As you reached a roofed entrance to one of the corridors you stopped and turned to George.

“Thank you for walking me back, George. I’d like to be your friend.” You said as you rocked back and forth on your feet.

“Oh, I’d like to be your friend too.” He stammered out, there was no lie behind his words.

“Great. Well, I think I should go wash myself off. I feel gross.” You waved as you began to step backwards into the hallway.

“See you, strange girl.” He waved back before you fully turned the opposite direction, immediately feeling bad for calling you that, until he saw the way your grin grew bigger at the name. You nodded and turned away, skipping down the hallway.

George let out a small laugh to himself, he definitely would be seeing you again.

tell me what you thought! <3 feedback is always appreciated!

[comfortless]

I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 6 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.7, Ch.8

The couple had finally arrived at the location Max had planned for their date.

They had pulled up at the marina, surrounded by multiple huge yachts that you could only dream about ever owning.

A drown slowly took over your face as the man in front of her opened the door that led down to the boats.

"Where are we going?" You voiced your thoughts.

The blue eyed man just smirked at you but didn't answer as he continued to pull you down the dock until they finally stopped in front of one.

Max had helped the young woman onto the boat before walking over to a man standing by the boats main entrance.

The unknown man was attractive. That's obvious. He had to be around your age or Max's, brown hair and green eyes.

The two shared some words before the unknown man smirked at Max before handing home something.

"Have a lovely evening," the man smiled at the pair before getting off the boat and making his way towards the dock exit.

"That was my friend Charles," max said with a slight sigh as you looked on in confusion on what just happened, " he's letting us borrow his boat for the night."

Charles Leclerc, the formula one driver for Ferrari, had been more than happy to let his friend borrow his boat. Specifically after finding out it was for a date.

The Montesquieu had known the Dutch driver since they were children, and like many close to him, had noticed a change in his friends behavior recently.

He knew, like Daniel, that someone, a woman, had cause this. His suspicions were confirmed when he had asked the Ferrari driver to use his boat and Charles wouldn't let him until Max told his what exactly for.

The world champion was reluctant to mention his little lamb, but the Montesquieu wouldn't hand over his keys until the Redbull driver finally caved.

The small mention of his date to Charles was all it took and he immediately regretted saying anything after seeing the stupid grin on his friend's face.

He had wanted to keep you a secret. To keep you to himself for just a little bit longer.

Now two people know about you and now, one of them knows what you look like.

The couple had walked out onto the front deck, where the Dutchman had arranged a single table for the two.

The table was draped with a white cloth, simply decorated with a small bouquet of red roses. The candle was surrounded by candles, and fairy lights softly illuminated the boat deck, creating a romantic aura.

"You did this?" you asked, wide eyed and mouth open.

No one has ever gone to this length for you. Usually, the men you saw back at home would take you on a cheap date in hopes it was enough to get into your pants.

Max wasn't that type of man. While they had only known each other for a short period of time, you knew in your heart that he was one of the good ones.

"I did have some help," made said shyly, never having done anything like this for someone before.

For most of his adult life, woman had just thrown themselves at him, wanting the fame and fortune that came along with being attached to his name.

He had also never truly been interested in anyone before. Besides the occasional one night stands, no one had ever been able to divert his attention from racing. Until now.

The couple had taken their seats at the table, your smile never once leaving your face. Just by looking at how happy the simplest thing, like a romantic dinner, made you, caused the Dutchman to feel a mix of happiness and sadness.

In that moment he realized that no one had treated the beautiful girl in front of him the way you truly deserved to be treated.

"No one's ever done anything like this for me before," you shyly looked at the handsome blue eyes man.

"You should always be treated this way," max leaned slightly across the table between them, caressing your cheek softly.

Looking down, trying to hide the blush that had erupted across your face.

"how was your work trip?" you quickly changed the topic.

Max leaned back in his chair, happy with the yours resorting towards him

"It was almost perfect," he said.

"Almost?"

"I was missing something?"

"What?"

"You."

You giggled at his words, thinking it was just a line he says to all the girls. Little did you know, he had never said those words before, let alone truly meant them.

"Where were you this time?" You again changed the subject.

"Saudi Arabia," he states before leaning onto the table, speaking quickly before you have time to divert the conversation again, "why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Brush off the compliments I give you."

"Because," you paused, scrambling to find the words, "why focus on words that are only words. Usually there is no meaning behind them, they're just words."

Max quickly gets up and walks around to your side of the table, kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your face in his hand.

"Every word I say is nothing less than the truth. You may not know me well, but if there's one thing I'm not, it's a liar.

I want it to be clear that every word I say is full of meaning," his deep state into, what felt like her soul, told you everything you needed to know.

The intense and truthful look in his eyes had your mouth open and eyes starting to water.

You never had anyone look at you the way he was looking at you now. Pure admiration, affection, and dare you say it, love.

You didn't have any words to say. You had been left completely speechless and in a split decision, You leaned forward and kissed him.

Max was taken off guard, not truly expecting the beautiful girl to make the first move.

He quickly recovered, responding to the kiss, pulling you closer to his body. You brought your hand up to his shirt, bringing him as close as possible, deepening the kiss.

The American girl had always dreamt about having your own movie scene kiss. The type of kiss you read about in books that caused butterflies to ignite in your stomach. But this was reality.

Fireworks

That's what you felt. Your entire body erupted in tiny fireworks like tingle. You couldn't help but think that in that moment, reality was so much better than any book or movie.

Max wanted to hold you in his arms forever and to never let go. He felt, in that moment, if he lost everything, he wouldn't care.

His fame, the money, his seat, he could lose it all and still be a winner if he could only have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

If he died right then, he'd die a happy man.

The two broke away, but kept their foreheads together as they continued to catch their breath.

They stayed in this position for a while, just enjoying being in each other presence before Max finally interrupted.

With a quick kiss to your forehead he pulled away saying, "let's eat."

Dinner wasn't awkward after the kiss, if anything, they felt closer than ever before. The entire night they because more touchy with each other.

They were expressing their emotions and feelings openly, something the driver had never done before. With you, it felt natural, that he could finally be himself without judgement.

Max had dropped the girl off back at home, but not before giving you a loving and long goodnight with a promise to talk to you tomorrow.

The Dutchman couldn't keep the smile off his face, replaying the kiss over and over in his head.

As he opened his apartment door, he was instantly ready to go to bed so he could see you, once more the next day.

"Well, look who's finally home," Max sighed, resting his head against the now closed front door at the sound of the familiar voice in his home, "where have you been? It's way past your bed time!"

The Dutchman turned around to see, not only Daniel Ricciardo with a devious grin on his face, but also Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris sitting in his apartment.

"I knew I shouldn't have given you a key," Max muttered to himself about the Aussie, "why are you guys here?"

"Imagine my surprise when little Charles," said man shot the Aussie a glare at exposing him, "called to tell me that you, young Maxine, asked to use his yacht for a date. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Sighing, Max took a seat on one of his living room chairs, "because you would behave exactly like this."

"I'm more hurt that you didn't tell me."

"Luckily you had Charles who can't keep his mouth shut to tell you," the Ferrari driver help up his hands in defense at the Dutchman's glare.

"It's not my fault you're so secretive about this girl," Charles says, "the secrecy about this mystery girl makes us all curious."

"And you?" Max says, looking at the youngest driver in the room, "What's your excuse?"

"I'm just nosey," Lando states with a huge grin while shrugging.

Max's frustration with his friends was interrupted by a text from you in question at the moment.

You: Did you make it home safe?

Max: yes

You: Are you okay? You're being a bit short with me.

Max: I'm currently being interrogated by my friends about you.

You: I didn't realize you kept me a secret.

Max: I wanted to keep you to myself as long as possible little lamb.

He couldn't help but smirk at the 3 dots appearing they quickly disappearing on the screen.

"That!" Daniel yelled, catching the blondes attention again, "that right there is the reason why I want to meet this girl! In the short time you've known her, she's made you smile more than I've ever seen in the years I was your teammate."

"Why are you hiding her?" Charles eyebrows furrowed at his own question, "she's absolutely stunning, so you can't be ashamed of her. She always seems to be a sweet, intelligent girl."

"She doesn't know who I am," Max mumbles out.

"How?" Lando asked with wide eyes.

"She just doesn't. She's from the U.S. and you know how F1 handy really reached them well," everyone nodded in slight understanding.

"But why hide her? Why not tell her?" Charles asks.

"Because I've gotten so much shit these past few months after winning the World Championship. People have dictated shit about me without actually knowing me. I want her to get to know me as Max, not Max Verstappen, the newest f1 World Champion."

It was quiet for a second, all the drivers understand how he felt. The silence didn't last too long because the McLaren driver couldn't stand the awkward silence or the seriousness of the conversation.

"So what does she think you do for work?" Lando asked

Max chucked before saying, "she thinks I work for a car company which makes me travel to get investors."

"Shit, you didn't necessarily lie mate," Daniel said, "my issue here now is that you said I'd be the first one to meet her and the fucker Charles met her before me! This is so unfair!"

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[diamonddaze01]

hi tara! if the prompt already hasnt been asked for, can i request 86 "Please just leave." with mingyu? thank you <3333 reading all the drabbles now hahahah

silence, at its loudest

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 1.1k prompt: "Please just leave." au: chef!mingyu | warnings: angst! and tears a/n: TIYA HELLO! thank you for this req it was so sad to write but i hope you love <3

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet for a fight. No music playing in the background, no rain against the windows to soften the edges of your words—just silence, heavy and dense, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Mingyu stood in the center of the living room, his coat still damp from the storm outside, water dripping from the fabric, leaving a faint puddle at his feet. His tall frame seemed out of place here, as if it didn’t belong in this small space, weighed down by the tension between you both.

You were perched on the couch, arms crossed tightly, a defensive shield you knew wouldn’t protect you from the pain of this conversation. You wanted to retreat into the softness of the cushions, to sink away from him, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t look away, even as your chest tightened and the cold of the room seeped deeper into your skin.

“I don’t even understand what I did wrong!” His voice cracked, frustration and confusion lacing his words. He ran a hand through his damp hair, as if trying to shake the tension out of his mind. “I—I’m here, aren’t I? Why is that never enough for you?”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your throat, but you didn’t back down. You couldn’t. The words you’d been holding back for so long finally broke free, raw and cutting. “It’s not just about you being here, Mingyu. It’s when you decide to show up. You don’t get to keep ignoring me until I’ve hit my limit, then think you can fix everything by standing in my living room and saying you care.”

He took a step forward, but his eyes were desperate, pleading for some sign that you still cared, that there was something left of the person he used to know. “I don’t understand. I’ve been working—working to build something, something for us! And when I’m finally here, you still—”

“You’re always working, Mingyu!” Your voice cracked under the weight of the frustration that had been building for months, maybe longer. “When was the last time you didn’t have your phone on you? When was the last time you didn’t cancel on me because ‘the restaurant’s short-staffed,’ or you just need to finish one last thing?” Your breath came out in short, shaky bursts. “You didn’t even call me back when you knew it was my birthday. That’s what hurts the most.”

The words hit him like a blow, a quick intake of air following the realization. His expression faltered, the first cracks appearing in his armor. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you didn’t mean to,” you interrupted, voice soft but heavy with disappointment. “But it keeps happening, Mingyu. You keep doing it. You keep saying it’s not intentional, and then you walk through the door like everything’s fine, like you haven’t been neglecting me for weeks.”

He froze. The tension between you thickened, hanging in the air like smoke that wouldn’t dissipate. “I wasn’t ignoring you, okay? I was just trying to... I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d—”

“No, you didn’t think, Mingyu. You assumed,” you said, bitterness seeping into every syllable. “You assumed I’d be fine with it. You assumed I’d be okay with the empty promises, the unreturned messages, the way you disappear whenever things get hard. But I’m not fine. And I’m so tired of pretending that I am.”

His hands shook as he stepped toward you again, his voice breaking with a softness you hadn’t heard in months. “I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. But I’m here now. Let me make it right. I’ll... I’ll stay. I’ll be here for you. I’ll make things better.”

You shook your head, stepping back, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. “That’s the problem, Mingyu. You think that just showing up, just being here in front of me, is enough to make everything better. But it’s not. It’s too late for that. I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the boy you fell for peeked through the cracks. The one who used to wait outside your office just to walk you home, who stayed up late to hear every mundane detail of your day, who never left you wondering where he was or if he cared. That version of him felt like a distant memory now, buried beneath layers of missed calls, broken promises, and unspoken words.

You could see it in his face—the hurt, the regret—but the distance between you both felt too wide to cross anymore. “Please... Don’t do this,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice raw with emotion. “I need you. I need us.”

You swallowed, your throat tight with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. “I can’t keep waiting for you to care when you decide it’s convenient for you, Mingyu. I can’t keep putting myself through this. I can’t keep pretending that it’s enough just because you’re here when it suits you.”

The silence stretched between you both, suffocating and heavy. His hand reached out, fingers trembling as if he wanted to hold you, to make things right, but he stopped himself. He knew, deep down, that it was too late. That the bridge between you had already collapsed, one small misstep at a time, until there was nothing left to salvage.

“Please just leave,” you said quietly, the words slipping from your lips like they didn’t even belong to you. They were heavy, final, like the last breath of something you once held dear.

His breath hitched, his chest tightening, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the wreckage that was left between you both, and you knew that leaving now was the only way to preserve whatever was left of yourself.

He stood frozen, his hand still on the doorknob, his body shaking like he was fighting to say something, anything, to change the course of what was happening. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing left to say. The silence stretched until it became deafening.

With one last look, he stepped out, the door closing softly behind him. You stood there, motionless, listening to the sound of his footsteps fade away into the distance, swallowed by the rain and the night.

The apartment was cold now, emptier than it had ever been, the silence louder than any argument. And when you finally exhaled, it was like the breath you’d been holding for so long had escaped—too late, but finally out.

But the ache in your chest remained.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce Meets His Son: Damian (Part 1)

Talia: Bruce, this is Damian. Damian, this is Bruce.

Damian extended his hand for a handshake. Bruce obliged, unsure why he was being introduced to the young child.

Damian (confused): Why is he dressed like a bat?

Talia (mock sweetness): It’s his thing.

Bruce (offended): Okay, you don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here. Why are you showing me this child?

Jason, standing behind Bruce, covered his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

Talia: He’s my son.

Dick (instant realization): He’s your son? That is your son? Which means… Oh wow. Wow!

Dick started to laugh, but stopped when Bruce shot him a confused stare. He turned back to Talia and Damian.

Damian (waving): Hello.

Bruce (not putting two and two together): Hi… And Talia?

Dick: Oh… Oh, you don’t get it?

Jason: He doesn’t get it. Hahahaha!

Bruce indeed did not understand what was going on.

Talia: Bruce, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this.

Talia took Bruce’s gloved hand. Ra's al Ghul walked over, holding up a camera to record the exchange. Dick and Jason stood by, eager to see how Talia would word her revelation.

Talia: He is my son… and he is your son.

Bruce blinked, momentarily speechless. He heard what she said but wasn’t sure how to respond. Looking down at Damian again, he was finally able to see the resemblance to both of them.

Damian (confused): The guy in the giant bat suit is my father? This is the Bruce Wayne?

Damian tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Damian: Not the craziest thing I've had to deal with. Although, mother, when you said he was odd about what he wears, I did not expect this.

Talia nodded, but when Bruce remained silent, she grew concerned.

Talia (worried): Bruce, are you going to say something?

Dick: Bruce?

Bruce gulped. Jason clapped while laughing.

Jason: This is great. I’m so glad I got to witness this today.

Bruce (finally speaking): I’m sorry. I must have hallucinated when you said the little boy standing in front of me is my… son.

Talia (repeating herself): Bruce, he is your son.

Bruce (in disbelief): No, he’s not.

Jason (enjoying the moment): There’s the denial.

Talia (exasperated): Yes, he is.

Bruce (panicked): No… no, he’s not. I can’t have kids; my swimmers are broken.

Damian: Swimmers?

Talia quickly covered Damian’s ears.

Talia: They most certainly are not. That prophylactic was, though!

Dick: You can have kids? Prophylactic? The condom broke?!

Jason: I know, right!

Dick could no longer contain his laughter and joined Jason, cackling uncontrollably.

Bruce (stammering in denial): He’s not… I’m not… The kid is not my son.

Talia (uncovering Damian’s ears): Yes, he is! I got a DNA test done! He is your child. I have your blood from a… not important, but he is yours! The baby is yours!

Damian: I’m eight.

Dick (laughing): Oh God.

Bruce (in a state of shock): Eight?

Bruce remembered that night—the night of regret, with a wallet that had one gas station condom, now linking him to Talia forever.

Talia: Mm-hm, remember when you were really sad and I was there to comfort you? One thing led to another. Surprise. Damian, hug your father.

Damian: Um, okay, I’ve been planning for this.

Damian hugged Bruce, who was still in his Batman suit, embracing the son he just found out about. Jason walked around laughing and clapping again.

Ra's al Ghul (continuing to record the reaction): She unfortunately speaks the truth. I’m disappointed you share DNA with him, but we have the test. He’s… yours.

Bruce had a million thoughts swirling in his head, but all he could focus on was that the son he did not know about had been around Ra's al Ghul for 8… years!

Damian (surprised): The guy dressed as a bat is my father? I’m sorry to repeat myself, but he’s dressed like a bat. It's so odd.

Ra: I know. I know.

Dick: Bruce, say something other than “No, he’s not” or “He’s not mine.”

Bruce stood stunned and silent. His oldest son waved a hand in front of his face.

Dick: Oh, he’s actually speechless. Yeah… yeah, that’s a fair reaction.

Talia (sighing): To be expected. Jason, I’ll send you a video of his reaction like we discussed.

Jason: Thank you.

Dick: You knew?!

Jason (laughing): For 8 years! Yes!

Damian: Hi, akh brother Jason.

Jason waved at Damian as Dick tried to come to terms with the fact that Jason had known for 8 years.

Dick: Why didn’t you say anything?

Jason: I was furious with him and wanted revenge, and this… this is the best revenge. Long-term silent revenge is my new favorite thing.

Dick: I’ll deal with you in a second. Bruce, are you with us?

Bruce fainted, falling backward. Damian looked down at the man in the batsuit.

Damian: I’m not sure I want him to be my father.

Ra (ending the recording): I agree with you, child, but it is what it is.

He walked off with the camera.

Ra: I’m going to burn this onto a DVD and keep a copy.

Talia (frustrated): You do that, father.

Dick walked over to Damian, stepping over Bruce.

Dick: Um, Bruce is just a bit shocked that he can actually have kids without adopting them. He’s a good guy, though.

Damian: Are you sure about that? Jason told me he was ‘not bad.’ I’m not really seeing it.

Dick glared at Jason. Jason shrugged with a smile. Dick turned back to Damian.

Dick: Not bad is actually a good description for him. He’s an amazing crime fighter and usually can compose himself. I’m Dick, by the way. I guess we’re brothers.

Damian: That’s your legal name?

Dick (upset, but hiding it): My birth name is Richard Grayson.

Damian: Why do you go by—

Talia and Jason: Don’t ask.

Dick groaned in annoyance and held out his hand. Damian shook it respectfully, still perplexed by his strange new family—which says a lot.

Previous ---> Jason knew about Damian's existence

---> Dick confronts Jason about keeping this secret

---> Bruce meeting his son part 2

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”