#his shoes are hanging on by a thread and it says so much

[dallasgallant]

The amount of holes in Johnnys converse…

[gor3-hound]

over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

[risuola]

TOO MUCH — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Lately, it felt like not a second pass by without some new curse appearing somewhere in Japan and both you and Satoru had your hands full of work for few weeks, but when he comes back home, exhausted to the bone, his composure snaps and he unloads his frustration on you.

cw: angst, verbal abuse, hurt/little comfort, mentions of blood and hurt, reader is injured, mental exhaustion — 2,5k words

Too much. Too much of everything that piled up on Satoru's shoulders, weighing him down so heavily that he almost couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was on fire, curses crawling out of every shithole in Japan, most of them first or special grade, spreading nothing but death and chaos. So many people killed, so much blood and pain he had witnessed in the last few weeks, it drowned him in exhaustion and helplessness. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, and yet he felt so helpless in the current situation. He traveled from town to town, fighting these terrors, but the lives that had been taken away, he couldn't bring back, and he used to think that he was immune to it already. Turns out, one can never be immune enough.

You had your hands full with work as well, but you stayed in Tokyo. The situation drained your energy too, the cascading waves of sadness and sorrow made you feel like you couldn't think straight, but you pushed through. You felt so weak, but had to be strong, everyone had to be. All of your sorcerer friends were just as engaged in the fight as you were, just as tired and distressed, but the show must go on, as they say.

You and Gojo weren't officially a couple, though everyone knew you were together. You were friends, yes, the kind of friends who kiss and have sex. The kind of friends that use pet-names and fall asleep while cuddling naked. Shit, you lived together for a few months, you know everything about him and he knows just as much about you. And you were happy, sharing every moment. He always said that you bring him so much comfort, that he feels like he can be openly himself when he's with you and be accepted for it. Nothing could ever bring you more joy than the man you love feeling comfortable with you.

That being said, it wasn't the best time for your relationship slash situationship. He was more out of the house than in it, and you were just sleeping there, barely. It's been going on for a few weeks already, and it's just now it’s beginning to finally calm down. Few weeks of constant fighting for everyone involved in the jujutsu world, but it started to slow down. So you knew that Satoru would finally return home.

It's when you showered and put on your pajamas that you heard the keys twisting in the lock and the doors opening. Putting on a smile, you rushed to welcome Gojo home, but the moment you saw him, you knew he's extremely exhausted.

Satoru entered the house already annoyed by the conversation he had with Gakuganji a few moments before. That old fart had the audacity to nag him about his methods while he himself was sitting in his cave sipping green tea, not caring one bit that the world was drowning in curses and blood. He threw the keys on the shelf, kicked off his shoes and took off the blindfold, then looked at you, all clean and comfortable in your pajamas. He scoffed quietly.

He felt like his own body was falling apart, everything hurt, his head was pounding, his eyes were burning. Even though he was actively healing himself, the side effects of everything were getting to him. A few weeks of nonstop fighting, of domains, of reds, blues, and purples, and so much physical combat had left him hanging on the last thread of his composure. The usual mask of cheerful carelessness long gone.

Suddenly he wished he could enter the empty house, throw away his clothes, collapse on the bed dirty and just fall asleep, but he couldn't. You were there. And there was never a time in the past when he wouldn't be absolutely overjoyed to come home to you. Even when tired, he wanted nothing more than your arms around him. But not right now.

"Satoru, hey," you greeted him, keeping your voice soft and on the quiet side. You knew him so well, you could see how fatigued he was and frankly, you couldn't blame him. Being the strongest had its downsides, one of which was being very much in demand, and sadly, no one could take his place. "You're exhausted, huh?"

"Look at you, so damn perceptive," he snapped harshly, his eyes cold and empty as he looked down at you. He walked past you to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you hungry? I can make you someth-“

"No, just shut up, you cannot make me fucking anything," once again, his tone was cold as he snarled at you. It was the first time so much cyanide spilled out of his mouth and he just barely opened it. At first you tried to understand it. Things had been really draining lately and you knew he was angry because he was tired, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Alright," you sighed, deciding it's best not to get deeper into the conversation when he's so argumentative. "Do as you wish, get some rest, Satoru."

"You know, why instead of telling me what the hell to do, you just don't leave my house, huh?", Shut up Gojo, he screamed at himself subconsciously. "Why are you even here anyway?" Shut. Up. " All comfy when I'm constantly on the job?"

"I know you're tired, Satoru, but I've been on missions too. I'm tired too," you looked at him in defeat, unable to keep the smiley mask on. There was so much wrong in this situation, so much anger being thrown at you for no reason whatsoever, and you had every right in the world to be just as angry as he was, but you just chose not to. You wanted to welcome him home with warmth, comfort him, and keep him up even if you felt down. You wanted to soothe his aching body when yours hurt just as much. Or worse. You were badly injured during the last few battles, but Shoko had her hands so full, you told her you could wait, and you hid all those wounds from Gojo's eyes so as not to worry him.

"'Yeah, your little missions,'" he bit, and your brows furrowed at the sound of his words.

"What does that even mean?" you asked, slowly feeling the heat of anger coursing through your veins. "I'm first gra-"

"I don't care what you are. You're still nothing to me. I deal with real shit, not those..."

You slapped him. Or at least you tried, your hand stopping just short of his face, and it surprised you to realize his limitless was still on, even though he was home already. He was still in fight-or-flight mode, still feeling threatened enough to keep his defensive techniques activated.

"Just what do you think you're fucking doing?" he growled, taking your wrist into his grip, the squeeze shooting shockwaves of pain through your nervous system. "Did my words hurt you? Did the truth hurt you so badly that you thought you could actually hit me?", his tone had a taunting undertone, and when you looked into his blue eyes, you saw nothing but cold. "Funny little thing."

"Let go, Satoru."

"Oh, I will. And when I do, you'll get your useless ass out of here. I'm not your boyfriend, we just fuck, we're not in a goddamn relationship for you to be here all the time. I need my space."

Gojo hated every word that fell out of his mouth, but now he couldn't take them back or erase them, and he didn't exactly know how to act now that he had said them. Immediately, he let his limitless inactivate, hoping you'd want to slap him again. Shit, he'd even accept a kick in the balls, but you remained silent, just looking at him. He could tell by the way your eyes glistened in the sharp artificial light of his kitchen that there were tears threatening to come out, but you didn't cry. Your jaw clenched for a moment and you lowered your hand.

"Right," you exhaled deeply, feeling the hurt burn your heart and soul. The smoke of sadness already flowing through your veins, your cells, your mind. "You're right, we're not. Here," you performed a theatrical swing of your arm, displaying the interiors to him, "your fucking space. I'll let myself out."

"Y/n..." he tried, but you were already in the room, changing from your pj's to sweatpants. He stayed in the kitchen, hoping you'd just jump into bed and maybe cry about it all, and he'd just come back later and comfort you when he wasn't mad anymore, but it didn't go that way.

Once he saw you again, you were heading towards the door.

"Y/n stay, don't be silly, stop," he tried to grab you, but you slapped his hands away.

"What, does the almighty, fucking honored one wish to add something to his oh-so-wonderful speech?"

"No, I'm sorry, stay," he took your hand forcefully, pulling you into his chest, but you fought back, not wanting anything to do with him right now. He had said too much. You knew it was all driven by his exhaustion, but it was far too much.

"No, Gojo, I don't want to stay here. I'm more than pleased to leave you in your space. There's no damn reason for you to share your precious air with such a useless nothing."

"No, no, please," he begged, his anger slowly being overtaken by panic. The sound of his last name felt cold and unfamiliar as it rolled off your tongue. "I'm sorry, please stay. I didn't mean it. Fuck, I didn't mean any of it."

"Please, take your hands off me," you told him more quietly. You were tired and now emotionally drained as well. All you wanted from this evening was to cuddle up with him to sleep. To bask in his warmth, knowing he's safe and home, to feel his skin against yours, to breathe him in. But no.

"No, I won't," he lowered his head and buried his face in your neck. "Please, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just so tired. I feel dead, there has been so much fighting and pain and suffering and death all around me these past few weeks. I'm sorry, y/n," his voice faded to whisper as he rambled against your pulse.

"Gojo..."

"I don't think you're useless or nothing. Fuck, what have I done" he was spiraling slowly into a panic attack. You could feel his heartbeat getting hectic, his breathing uneven, and his grip on you so tight it hurt. "I am nothing without you. Please stay."

"Gojo."

"I love you," he whispered, his tone breathless, and at first you thought you had heard him wrong. He had never told you that. Not even once. "I love you so fucking much, please. Slap me, kick me, punch me in the dick, I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'm so sorry."

"Satoru, please, it hurts..."

"Hurts?", he froze. What hurts? Did he hurt you? The thought frightened him, not only did he insult you for no damn reason and now he caused you pain? As if burned, he let go of you completely, raising his hands as if he wanted to keep them in sight so you knew he wouldn't hurt you anymore. "I'm sorry."

"I've been fighting for these weeks, too. I'm tired too. I would never compare myself to you, but I gave it my all, too," you exhaled deeply. "And I know you're exhausted, Satoru. So please go to bed and get some sleep. I'll just go home."

"Here is your home, with me."

"Here?", you briefly looked around. It was a place you loved because it was filled with him. It was where your heart wanted to be when you felt safest and happiest, but now... "Suddenly I feel like an intruder here. I feel like I shouldn't be here."

"No, please don't say that. Listen, y/n, love," he dropped to his knees, took your hands in his and kissed the tops of them gently and tenderly. "Please, stay with me. I'm an idiot. But I love you. And I need you here, I need you in my life. I want you by my side."

"So, what do you want us to be? You said we're just fucking. God, I thought we were at least friends, if not a couple, but..."

"I want us to be everything. I want you to be my friend, my partner, my lover, my wife and my entire world."

You sighed. Deep and slow, pushing the air out of your lungs, letting your whole body deflate as you took his hands and pulled him up.

"Go take a shower and come to bed. You need to sleep it off. I need to rest too."

Obeying, Satoru rushed to the bathroom and you made sure to lock the doors, turn off the lights and took the time to change back into your pajamas. Sitting on the bed, you finally felt the tears running down your face. They brought you some relief and you let them flow freely, desperate to get it out of you before Gojo came back. It pained you how wrong the evening went and you wondered if there was anything you did to cause it, but no. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it. And you should leave him there alone, just as he wished for. Then why were you still here?

"Please don't cry," his long arms wrapped around you from behind, enveloping you in his warmth. The light sweet scent of his body wash pleasantly filled your airways and it's out of habit that you leaned into him. "Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. Slowly, he laid you down on the pillows and took his usual place beside you.

"I will," you sighed, already feeling the discomfort. "But please, let's change sides."

Satoru didn't understand at first, but he did what you asked anyway. When he saw you exhale in relief as you turned to the other side, his brain clicked. Moving his hands in the most delicate way possible, he lifted your shirt a little, revealing the many layers of bandages, already tinged with red that was seeping through them slowly.

"God, you're wounded. That's what was hurting you when I held you... I had no idea why you didn't tel-, ah, because I was being an asshole, right," he sighed.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to tell you anyway. I'm fine, just Shoko had her hands full, so I told her I'd wait a day or two. It's just a scratch, really," you told him, fixing your shirt. "Please, let's get some sleep, okay? We'll talk about it all later."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you to his chest and planting a kiss on the top of your head. It was only now that he could feel his body relax, with you right next to him, your heartbeat syncing with his own, and all of your loving aura filling his body. And he realized that the words he never had the balls to say out loud to you now felt natural, rolling off his tongue. "I love you so much."

"You idiot," you sighed, closing your eyes and slowly melting into his form. "I love you too."

[ellecdc]

Love, i hope youre staying hydrated 🩵

A poly!wolfstar idea that lives rent free is that Rem, for lack of a better word, hoards Siri and Reader as it gets closer to the fullmoon/ a specific type of moon. Like a dragon. Hes so openly, aggressively affectionate too and is much more likely to mamhandle them

thank you all for constantly reminding me to drink more water - you're my heroes.

poly!WolfStar x fem!reader

CW: territorial boyfriend, slight jealousy, dom/sub dynamics if you squint but SFW

You weren’t hiding. Not really...

But you were also sort of kind of definitely hiding.

You loved your boyfriends, both of them, so damn much. And for the majority of the month, it was Sirius driving the two of you up the wall (affectionately). But as the night of the full moon dragged closer and closer, you and Sirius could hardly move without Remus’ sights set on you.

Most of the time, you and Sirius handled Moony’s obsession quite well in your humble opinion; you usually relished in his neediness and all the affection he showered on you. 

But exam season was around the corner, and you were currently hanging on by a thread.

Anything and everything that could have gone wrong today did; you got a run in your sheer tights at breakfast, you only received an acceptable on your most recent essay for Charms, you dropped your potion during class which spilt on your shoes, and you forgot your textbook for Transfiguration which earned you house points and detention.

So, you loved Remus – truly, you would die for him – but you needed to get this redraft of your essay for Potions finished (using the corrections you received on your dreadful Charms essay) and you could not deal with Sirius’ non-stop flirting and joking which you knew you’d have to deal with if you let Remus drag you up to his dorm room as he wont to do.

So, you were hiding.

Definitely hiding.

In the furthest corner in the library that you could manage which was probably not the best hiding place from the studious, book-loving lycanthrope – but you were too desperate to be making effective plans right now.

You probably should have tried a little harder.

“There you are.” Remus’ lilting voice floated to you in your little corner of solitude. 

“Hey, Moons.” You called quietly as he approached you and placed a searing kiss to your lips, his hand at the nape of your neck keeping your head in place for him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me.” He whispered against your lips with a smirk.

Your face flooded with heat at the prospect of being caught, but Remus just chuckled and pressed another kiss to your lips before he pulled back and took a seat beside you. 

“Where’s Sirius?” You asked.

Remus looked at you from the corner of his eye as he pulled out a book from his bag. “Practice, why?”

You felt your shoulders drop in relief at the idea that you may actually be able to finish this essay before Sirius came to (lovingly) distract you.

Remus hummed at you as a grin grew across his face. “Ah, perhaps it’s not necessarily me you’re avoiding?”

Your face heated again at the mortifying ordeal of being known.

“I love him, I love you, I love you both, but I-” 

“Hey,” Remus interrupted what was quickly becoming an increasingly panicked tangent as he slid his hand into yours. “It’s okay dovey, you do what you need to do. I’ll try to control myself and keep Sirius busy, okay?”

And Remus kept his word...mostly.

He had his hand on you at all times: it started with your hand in his before you needed to pull it away to flip through your parchment, which became a solid grip on your thigh as he continued reading before that hand began to migrate further up your thigh and tease around the bottom of your skirt to which you whined “Moony” at and pushed his hand away. 

It was when Remus - apparently provoked by some younger Hufflepuff allegedly “making googly eyes at you” from across the aisle - hauled you into his lap and began nipping at your neck that you decided you had gotten all the revising you were going to get done today, done.

“Hungry, dove?” He asked into your neck.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the way his hands wrapped around your middle to envelop you in a sweet hug as he murmured into the crook of your neck made you melt a little.

“Yeah.”

You could feel him smile against your skin and press one more kiss to it before he was helping you off of his lap and packing your things up. “Let’s go to dinner then.”

Remus held your hand and carried your bag all the way to the Great Hall before all but seating you himself and pressing himself up against your side on the bench of the Gryffindor table.

Lily smirked at you from her place before ensuring no one around could hear her.

“If I hadn’t known it was Remus’ time of the month already, this would have solidified it for me.” She said with a salacious wink.

You tried to glare at her, but Remus took that moment to shove his face back into the crook of your neck causing you to flush and duck your head shyly.

You heard boisterous laughing at the entrance to the Great Hall as the Gryffindor quidditch team made their way in from their practice.

You smirked at the sight, specifically Sirius, who had obviously showered - his hair was still damp, and his cheeks were still flushed a pretty pink from the adrenaline of his flight.

A gruff moan from your boyfriend seated beside you alerted you to his shared appreciation of the scenery.

However, Sirius flashed the two of you a smirk and a wink before following McKinnon over to the Ravenclaw table where Dorcas was sitting with Pandora.

Remus tensed slightly but settled for pulling your closer into his side.

It didn’t last long, however, when a particular bark of laughter garnered yours and Remus’ attention only to find Sirius talking to a Ravenclaw girl everyone knew had a raging crush on him.

Now, it’s important to note that Sirius was not deceitful nor disloyal to you and Remus, but he was mischievous and... bratty... sometimes.

Usually, you and Remus would scoff and laugh, and he’d tell you he would deal with this later causing Sirius to pout and whine, begging for attention – but today Remus immediately rose from his seat and grabbed both of your book bags, calling over a hasty “let’s go dove” as he stalked over to the Ravenclaw table to throw your shared boyfriend over his shoulder and stalk up to Gryffindor tower. 

You knew Sirius was going to pay for it tonight. 

[bruisedboys]

can I request remus and anxious!reader where he asks her to be his, but she is worried that remus will think that she is too much to take care of?

thank you for your request angel!! this was fun to write <3

remus lupin x fem!anxious!reader, 1.3k words

Remus turns up unannounced at your door with a huge bouquet of flowers. You think you know where this is going.

“Hey,” he says, smiling a brilliant smile that sets your heart aflame. “You look nice. Can I come in?”

You don’t look nice, at least not in your opinion. You’re in your pyjamas, a loose tank and a pair of flannel pants, fresh out of the shower with your damp hair hanging limp over your shoulders. But you can’t not let him in. You like him too much.

“Uh— sure. Yeah, come in. Sorry about the mess.” You kick a stray shoe to the side to prevent him tripping in your doorway, embarrassed.

“Don’t start,” he tells you, fondly exasperated as he toes off his shoes. He closes the door behind him and then turns back to you, holding the bouquet out. “These are for you, by the way.”

You’d guessed. Still, you’re very very happy to get them. He’s given you flowers before, ones he’s picked on the way to your place or a rose, once, on your last birthday, but never a bouquet. You take it from him, fingers brushing his at the stalks.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You can’t imagine how much they cost him. It’s the fullest bouquet you’ve ever seen, petals bursting out of the tissue paper in pretty pinks and whites and creams. You don’t try to fight the smile working it’s way onto your lips. “They’re really pretty.”

Remus grins and raises one shoulder in a shrug. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

“Remus,” you whine, heat building in your cheeks at an alarming rate.

Remus laughs, surprised. “What?”

You glare, fierce as you can when you’re so infatuated with him. He’s making this hard for you and he knows it. “Nothing. Come on, come through, I’ll find a vase.”

You lead the way through your entryway and into the kitchen. Remus sits at your kitchen island and watches while you find a vase for your flowers and fill it with water from the tap. You feel his gaze like laser beams and try not to think about how much skin your pyjama top is showing right now, how much you don’t actually care because you want him to look at you.

“Stop looking at me,” you say anyway, though you know he won’t listen.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Typical.

“You’re awful.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

You sigh and finish setting up your flowers, setting them on the kitchen island. Remus smiles at you like a fool when you meet his eyes.

“Do you want a drink?” You ask, desperate to do something other than be under his gaze.

“No. I want to ask you something.”

Your heart stutters. This could go a million ways and you’re not sure which way you’d prefer. You sit down across from him and try not to fall right off your chair.

“Okay,” you say quietly, playing with your hands, pulling at your fingers. “Ask away, then.”

Remus doesn’t say anything right away. He slides his hands across the counter and pushes them over yours, stopping your mindless fiddling. You let him take your hands in his. They’re warm, rough but soft in the places that count. His fingers thread through yours and your heart does a backflip.

“Look at me?” He asks, voice soft as silk. You’re glad he’s stopped joking around but somehow his sweet patience is worse.

You look up, meeting his eyes. Remus beams.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

You huff a laugh through your nose. “Hi,” you say back.

Remus strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush,” he says, words measured as if he’s being careful to not worry you. You both despise and adore how patient he is with you. “I want to ask you something, and if you don’t like it, please feel free to kick me out of your house. Okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, wondering if the hammering of your heart is for a good reason or a bad. “I’m not gonna kick you out of my house, Remus.”

“You might.”

You shake your head firmly. “I won’t.”

Remus takes a deep breath, and you watch his chest rise and fall.

“I really like you,” he says. “And as much as I enjoy being friends, I think I’d like to be more.”

You blink. You can barely open your mouth, feeling like your lips have been glued shut. “More?” You manage.

Remus nods. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why but you suddenly feel like crying. You’re not oblivious, you’d known Remus liked you at least a little bit more than just a friend. You’ve gone over this moment countless times in your head, content with it happening in your head but never in real life. You’re a fish out of water. You swallow.

“Remus,” you say, trying not to sound like you’re rejecting him. “I … I don’t know.”

Remus blinks.

“Not— I mean, it’s not because of you,” you say in a desperate rush. You untangle your hands from his and wrap your fingers around his wrists instead. “I like you, Remus. You know I do. It’s just— I don’t think you’d … I’m a lot of work,” you finish dejectedly.

Remus gives you a looks like a kicked puppy. “What? Y/N, that doesn’t—“

“No, listen, Remus,” you say, desperate for him to understand. “I’m not— I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend. You already do so much for me, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” Remus knows about your anxiety. It’s one of the reasons you like him so much, because he knows and doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t treat you any differently for it. Still, “You’d get tired of me.”

Remus genuinely looks like he might cry. He releases your hands and gets up, and for one terrifying second you think he’s leaving you, that he’s already sick of you and your worries, that he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. But he only rounds the kitchen island and gets so close to you you can smell his cologne.

“Can I give you a hug?” He asks in a soft murmur. “Please?”

You nod. Remus only hesitates for a half a second before wrapping his arms around you, pulling your head to his stomach, a hand in your damp hair. He’s warm and firm, tall, all-encompassing. He’s hugged you before but never like this. Never like he wants to hold all the pieces of you together in case you fall apart. You might just.

You weasel your arms around his tummy and try not to squeeze too hard. Remus strokes the back of your head, once, twice, three times. He doesn’t seem to mind your wet hair, the dampness slowly soaking into his soft t-shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “I want you to know that none of that matters to me. Only you matter. I don’t care if I have to look after you, I wouldn’t care if I had to carry you around like a log everywhere we went. I want to look after you.”

You squeeze him harder.

“I don’t want to burden you,” you say into his t-shirt.

Remus makes a sad noise and pulls back, hands climbing to your neck. He encourages your face from his stomach gently, fingers pushing your hair out of the way so he can cup your jaw.

“You won’t be a burden,” he says. “You’re not. I like you just the way you are. I could never get tired of you, honey. Every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

There’s a pause in which you look at each other, a lot of big, beautiful feelings in the way you study each other’s faces. Your heart pounds in your chest. You know your decision has already been made, was probably made the second he appeared at your door, maybe the moment you met him however long ago. He’s lovely, the best person you’ve ever met. You like him enough to put aside your worries and be with him, if that’s what he wants.

And it is what he wants. Suddenly you feel so happy you could burst.

“Okay,” you say hoarsely, emotion thick in your throat. You nod, not caring how desperate you look. “Yes.”

Remus’ answering smile is bruising. “Yeah?” He says, pleased and almost as giddy as you. His eyes light up like stars and you know you could’ve never said no to him. “You’ll be mine? Let me look after you for ever and ever?”

A giggle bubbles out of you before you can stop it. You beam up at him. “Only if you let me look after you, too.”

Remus thumbs the hollow under your eye slowly, his touch like fireworks along your skin, leaning close like he’s gonna kiss you. You’re surprised to realise you really, really want him to.

“I think that can be arranged.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[maxlarens]

hello jack doohan lovers. pls excuse any weird characterisation etc, i’ve never written jack before and am writing this because @coff33andb00ks gave me brain worms about this idea for jack x oscar’s childhood bsf!reader:

Oscar’s your friend. Your oldest friend in fact.

Which is to say you’re proud of him and his big boy job as a Formula One driver. And, of course, you’re endlessly grateful for the opportunity to follow him around the world in return for your services as his social media lackey. It’s a job you enjoy even. Which is not to say that you’ve got any kind of ulterior motive to show up on race weekends—

Nope. None at all!

It’s certainly got nothing at all to do with the fellow Australian Flynn Rider-lookalike that hangs around Alpine hospitality. Nothing whatsoever.

Jack Doohan isn’t even on your radar. And you certainly don’t keep an eye out for a flash of warm brown hair or that Roman nose of his. The familiar Australian accent in a crowd, grey-blue eyes shining in the sun, the tooth that often catches on his bottom lip—

No. You don’t pay attention to Jack Doohan at all.

Well, at least not as far as Oscar is concerned.

Cootie-ridden, annoying, pain-in-your-arse, Oscar.

Who as far as you know, thinks you’re still seven years old and pushing him into the sandpit in your parent’s backyard. Who honestly thinks all boys look at you and still see the little girl with pigtail braids who used to play race-cars with him. Which, well, is the same way you look at Oscar and see the kid who used to pick his boogers and spend hours reading his favourite racing magazine to you when you just wanted to play Barbies.

So whatever, you’re even—

You think his girlfriend is crazy for being in love with him and he doesn’t think Jack Doohan has a crush on you.

Oh yeah: you think Jack Doohan has a crush on you. Or you might have a crush on Jack Doohan, who’s to say?

It’s really not some baseless accusation you’re spouting with no evidence. Again, Oscar just thinks you still have cooties. And, okay, y’know what, see for yourself—

You swear this time you’re only outside Alpine hospitality on accident. Oscar and Lando are wrapped up in some McLaren PR thing and you’re filming B-roll of the paddock to use in a reel you’re thinking about making. Ending up by Alpine was a total mistake.

Not that it bothers you much when the object of your affection turns up regardless.

You hear the scuff of shoes against gravel and feel a presence hovering at your back before you know it’s him. Somehow, you know it’s him anyway. As if you’re linked by some cosmic thread. As if you’re attuned to his very aura… Not that you believe in that stuff. But it is weird. The way you know him without sight.

You feel his hair tickle your cheek as he leans over your shoulder, all up in your space.

You don’t mind.

“Hard at work, huh?” he teases into your ear, his breathy laugh making you suppress a shiver.

“Mm hm,” you answer, tight lipped, trying to keep the camera stabilised despite yourself, “Doin’ my job.”

He moves away and you finally hit the button to stop recording. You spin around to face him, trying not to let a full-blown grin appear on your face. He’s doing something similar, half-grin, that snaggletooth you like so much on display. Eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Was that a jab at me?”, he raises his eyebrows (can’t raise just one, you’ve discovered).

You make a face, shake your head, “No, I would never,” you tell him in an exaggerated tone that says you’re taking the piss.

He scoffs, points a finger at you, “I’ll have you know that I was on the sim until three in the morning.”

You laugh this time, loud, tucking your phone into your back pocket and trying to resist the urge to lean into him like girls do in the movies. Hand on his shoulder, folding in half, like he’s just said the funniest thing ever. Like he’s not just some guy with brown hair and pretty eyes.

“Yeah, I know, Jack. You don’t let anyone forget it.”

His eyes widen impishly, “People need to know.”

“Sure do,” you smile broadly; meaning it, also taking a bit of a jab at Alpine’s chronic ‘middle-of-the-pack’-ness without being too mean, “Where would Alpine be without you?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “In the gutter, with Williams, probably.”

You both burst suddenly into a fit of laughter. Neither one of you leaning on the other, but close to it. You’re sure it looks suspicious— Oscar Piastri’s known best friend and Alpine’s reserve driver bent over and giggling with each other— but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Being around Jack is intoxicating.

He makes your head spin and your heart race and your chest feel like it’s got some yawning sun inside of it. When you’re with him you always want more. To hear him talk, to watch his expressions shift, to feel him, warm and there and next to you. It’s never enough.

You want you want you want,

He occupies your mind when he’s not around. You think back on your texts. Interactions that the two of you have had. How he looked on a certain day. If you’re being too annoying by replying to his Instagram stories—

It shouldn’t matter. It does anyway. You want him to like you, so desperately that there’s an ache pulsing in the middle of your chest. Right in the centre of your ribs.

Sometimes, you think he wants you to like him too.

You’re drunk on it— him, the laughter— it makes your fingers tingle when you look at him. Not sure if this is the Moment exactly, but feeling something in the air anyway. The way his mouth is parted, the way the corner of it lifts. It’s not the Something, but it is something. Or at least it’s something until,

well, until Oscar—

Oscar who comes barreling over like there’s not palpable electricity between you and Jack right now.

“Hey man,” he says, as you’re watching them dap each other up like Oscar isn’t totally ruining any chance to flirt further with the Alpine reserve driver. You roll your eyes covertly. Huff audibly when Oscar drags you away for PR duties. Send Jack a beaming smile over your shoulder anyway, get one in return that makes you all warm and fuzzy and hopeful.

Oscar side eyes you, “Why do you look all red?”

You raise an eyebrow, hair flicking into your own face as you snap your head to look at him, “Excuse me?”

He gestures at his own face, then points at yours, “Dunno. You’re all red. Did you say something embarrassing to Jack? He probably doesn’t care—”

“Oh my god,” you cut him off, “Are you that blind?”

He frowns, furrows his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

You jut a thumb at Alpine hospitality in the distance, careful to keep your voice low, “You don’t think there was something back there? Like between Jack and I?”

Oscar stares at you for a long moment. Dumbfounded. Utterly confused. So much so that you begin to get annoyed at his silence. What does it say that your boy-best-friend can’t even imagine a guy having a crush on you? Are you really that insane for thinking Jack might?

“You and Jack?” he asks.

“Jack and I,” you repeat, tone clipped.

He’s quiet for another long second. Then he’s shaking his head like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard,

“No,” he’s saying in that way that’s trying to sound like a maybe but betrays his true feelings on the matter.

You scoff indignantly, then shove him hard enough that he stumbles into a wall. He’ll eat his words one day, you know it.

hope u guys enjoyed🥺

[discordantwritings]

Taken Back (Crocodile x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, fem afab! Reader (reader is referred to as girl), degradation, oral sex, facefucking, clothed sex/ dry humping, idk what the nice tag for getting off on a shoe is

WC: 1.9k

Summary: Your old boss is out of prison and back in action. You know he doesn’t like loose ends so you make a play to kill him before he can kill you. Things turn out differently than you plan.

Notes: I am not sure if this is what the requester wanted but my mind went to places that I couldn’t stop and I hope they like it!

Tagging: @keiva1000

Sword griped tight you wait for the lackey pirates to pass as you sneak further into Karai Bari island. Sir Crocodile’s wanted poster weighs heavy in your pocket as you mentally run through your plan once again.

Get into his office. Kill him or die in the process. Finally be free one way or the other.

Shitty plan, but it’s the best you’ve got.

Ever since you heard the news that Crocodile had escaped from Impel Down you knew you had to do this. You knew he didn’t like loose ends. You knew him well, he was your old boss after all.

For years you had worked for Baroque Works, a special agent directly under Sir Crocodile’s rule. You would go so far to say you had a decent relationship with him, as decent a relationship as Crocodile could have. You appreciated his efficiency and ruthlessness and he appreciated your obedience and skill.

You were a spy, often away from Alabasta for months at a time, and you had been away when the Straw Hat Pirates had turned the country upside down. When you got back there was nothing left for you, so you had to rebuild your life. It wasn’t easy- but your skills were more than enough to keep you above water.

But then Crocodile broke out.

It was like a knife was hanging over your head held by only a fraying thread. In every dark alley you expect to see him or one of your old coworkers, every night you shove a chair underneath the doorknob so no one can sneak in. Living in fear wasn’t much of a life. So when you caught wind of your old boss’ new hideout you stole yourself a ship and started sailing.

Now you’re here, sneaking through carnival surplus and dodging the gaze of pirate clowns. You’re not sure how exactly Sir Crocodile got in business with Buggy the Clown but you can’t really spare that much thought to that right now. It’s just a fitting backdrop for your quickly declining mental state.

You navigate carefully according to the (thankfully sound) information you bartered for and avoid being spotted as you come up on the door to Sir Crocodile’s office. Instinctually you know it’s his- painted in that signature dark green he loves so much. Sword in one hand, short dagger in the other you seep your haki into the blades. Pitch black weapons ready, you shove open the door and prepare to attack.

Sir Crocodile looks exactly the same. You figured maybe prison would have done some damage to him, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still the same broad, imposing, terrifying man.

A man who was standing in front of his desk facing the door. A man who knew you were coming.

You falter in the door way as he smirks at you. All the adrenaline you were running off of evaporates in an instant as you’re faced with the cruel fact you’d be outsmarted.

You really should have known better.

“It’s been a while.” Sir Crocodile says, absentmindedly polishing his golden hook with a cloth.

“It has.” Is the best response you can come up with.

“You were really thinking of killing me? I really thought you were smarter than that.” The slight disappointment in his voice hurts more than the fact he’s going to kill you.

“I didn’t want to wait around to be killed.” You turn the dagger over in your hand, fighting to keep your willpower strong enough to empower the blade.

“Fair enough.” You feel his eyes slide over your form and you fight not to shrink away. “But what makes you think I want you dead?”

“What?” That wasn’t a question you were ready for.

“I don’t think I stuttered.”

“No- I-“ Your stance shifted, letting your guard down slightly. “I’m a loose end. You don’t like loose ends.”

Silence hangs in the air as he seems to contemplate that answer. “That is true. But why did you never think I’d want you working for me again?”

…

Admittedly, that thought never crossed your mind. You were caught up in the countless ruthless slaughters you had seen at his hand and hook. Never did you think that you could come back, that there was room for you to come back.

And now you’ve probably destroyed that chance.

“I clearly had a lapse in judgement.”

“Clearly.” Sir Crocodile pushes himself off his desk and walks over to you and you drop your now useless blades to your side, willpower having run out long ago. “If it wasn’t me this whole gambit probably would have worked. It was good to know you still had all your connections and skills. And no one noticed you sneaking around.”

“You did teach me well.” You admit as he stalks over to you.

“That’s why I’m not going to kill you.” Crocodile is standing only a foot from you now, grey eyes bearing down on you. “I’m going to take you back.”

A confusing rush of emotions swirl in your head as you process the fact that you’re not actually going to die and actually just got your job back. “Thank you sir.”

“You will have to work very, very hard to make up for this though. You did think about killing me.” He saunters back over to his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Of course.” Of course you would never expect things to just go back to the way they were.

“Double shifts, and of course every bit of information you gained while I was away.”

“I will compile all that information for you.”

“And I expect you to come up with some other ways to get back on my good side. You’ve always been creative.”

He wasn’t implying anything. But the crazy cocktail of emotions, adrenaline, and honestly the way your mind was always a bit in the gutter had you thinking about less conventional ways to get back on his good side. There had never been anything between you two but you can’t deny that you’ve thought about it- I mean who could blame you? He was strong, commanding, and incredibly handsome. And, while you didn’t want to get overly full of yourself, you swear you’d occasionally feel his gaze on you when you weren’t looking.

If you were wrong your head might go back on the chopping block but if you were right then you’d get back in his good graces pretty damn fast.

Worth a shot.

You walked over to his desk, one hand trailing on the dark wood as you walk behind it. “I was wondering, sir, if there was anything I could do for you right now?”

He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, studying you before answering. “Depends. What are you thinking?”

Of course he was going to make you say it. You can see in his eyes that he knows what you’re implying. He’s playing with you.

You choose not to say anything else, simply letting your knees hit the ground in front of his slightly parted legs. You don’t move after that, choosing to fold your hands in your lap while you wait for him to give you an order.

“Oh well look at this. Seems you are smart.” He shifts in his seat, legs spreading wider. “C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him, hands quickly finding his belt. You swear you hear him chuckle but you’re too preoccupied with the large bulge growing in his pants as you unzip them. Reaching under his boxers you pull out his half hard length and your mouth waters.

He’s thick- so much so that you know it’ll be a challenge to wrap your mouth around him. But that fact only spurs you on further as you nuzzle up to his base and press sloppy kisses against it. You feel him harden under you and you flatten your tongue and lick a long stripe up from his base to the tip.

“Stop teasing.” His fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard as he pushes your head closer in warning.

You don’t need to be told twice. Taking his tip into your mouth you swirl your tongue around it a few times before slowly taking him further into your mouth. Crocodile groans in appreciation as you sink down, his cock slipping down into your throat until your nose brushes against his pelvis.

“If I’d of known you were so good on your knees I would have hunted you down the second I got out.” His grip pulls you back ever so slightly just so he can shove you back down again. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

It’s thrilling to let yourself be used like this, the drag of his cock in your throat foreign yet intoxicating. You’re already soaked, shifting unconsciously to try and get some friction to relieve the quickly growing ache. Of course Crocodile notices.

“Are you such a whore that you’re getting off on this?” Your eyes flick up and you see him grinning down at you. “Spread your legs.”

You’re confused but you do as he asks, knees going wide and holding onto his thighs for support. It isn’t until you feel the tip of his expensive shoe between your thighs that it all clicks. You grind down on the hard surface and moan around Crocodile’s cock.

“That’s it.” Crocodile mumbles appreciatively above you.

You let him continue to use you, filthy wet noises filling the room as spit drips down your chin and onto his lap. When he’s controlling your head it’s easy to focus your effort on grinding yourself against his shoe. It’s humiliating, degrading, disgusting, and you love it. Your head swims with lust, captured in the feeling of his cock throbbing in your throat.

You know he’s close when his grip tightens on your hair and his hips buck up every time he shoves your face down. If that wasn’t enough signs, his mouth gets looser, filthy words spilling out.

“Fuck you’re too good at this- tight little throat was made for my cock, huh? It’s like you were meant to take me-“ The pulling of your hair brings tears to your eyes, just on the verge of spilling over. “You’re going to swallow what I give you- take my fucking load-“

You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you do your best to swallow as you’re still held down. You can only swallow so much before you feel him dripping out the side of your mouth and down your chin. Finally he pulls you off and you gasp for air, face still held up for Crocodile to see. His hook comes up to your face and collects the spit and cum on your chin. He presses the cold metal up to your mouth and you lick it up without a thought, earning a groan from Crocodile.

“Such a good girl.” You’re rewarded with him pressing his shoe up to your clit. “Be a good little whore and get off on my shoe.”

It doesn’t take long now that he’s helping, forced to look in his eyes as you moan and shudder, coming undone in a way you never thought you could. As you come down he lets you go and your head falls down to his lap, head light from your orgasm.

“You have certainly proven yourself.” You feel the hook lightly brush through your hair. “And now I’ll never let you go.”

[thefreakandthehair]

The thing about drinking at 31 years old is that it's different from drinking at 18 years old– or 21 years old, or even 25 years old. Each shot, each drink, is one sip away from a terrible night’s sleep and an equally terrible morning.

Eddie Munson’s figured this out. Steve Harrington though? Steve Harrington has not. 

That’s how Eddie finds himself corralling his husband onto the couch after stumbling into the house, the front door slamming loud enough to jolt their cat out of her otherwise peaceful slumber. She glares for a moment before stretching her paws and curling back into a neat little ball. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve repeats, an immediate tell that he’s definitely not making it any further than the couch anyways. “I’m good, I’m fine, this– this is a nice couch.” He punctuates his thought by slapping the cushion and laughing. 

Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Yep, it sure is. You picked it out, remember?” 

Steve gasps and laughs some more, falling back into the corner of the sectional. “I don’t but it’s comfy so if I did, I did a good fucking job.”

He watches with fond comfortability as Steve squirms around on the couch and lays back, arms over his head and dopey laugh still on his lips. It takes a lot of willpower and frankly, respect, not to climb on top of this giggly, flushed, disheveled man he loves so goddamn much and kiss him until he’s flushed for other reasons, but he digs deep and focuses on doing the next best thing: taking care of him. Eddie’s a little worse for the wear in his own right but a sliver of his iron constitution remains from his wild youth and he hangs on by a thread. 

Eddie gets Steve situated into a comfortable position, his back against one side of the cushions and his head propped up on a few pillows to make sure he doesn’t end up with his face smushed into the corner somehow. 

“I’m good, I’m fine– hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve slurs and Eddie looks up from his position at the end of the couch, his fingers moving quickly as he unties Steve’s sneakers. 

“Taking your shoes off? You can’t sleep in your jeans, Stevie. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” 

Steve hums from somewhere high in his throat but doesn’t say anything else Eddie moves to unhook his belt. 

“Stop–stop it, hey, I’m married!” Steve smacks Eddie’s hand and Eddie barely suppresses a cackle. “You’re hot and all but I’m married and my husband’s hotter than you anyways.” 

With that, Eddie can’t stop himself. Warmth spreads through his chest as he laughs, from his heart all the way down to the tingling in his toes. Even drunk, even with his eyes closed, Steve would still choose him without a thought and sure, after all these years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise but it does. Because Steve is Steve, and Eddie is Eddie, and Eddie still hasn’t figured out what huge karmic debt he must’ve paid for them to have become SteveAndEddie.

He stares at Steve who’s nearly asleep but feebly muttering words like “hot,” and “perfect,” and “lucky.” 

“Hey, hey, Stevie, open your eyes for a second?” Eddie brushes the hair back from his forehead, gently shifting it away from his bloodshot, glossy eyes. He’s beautiful, even like this, what the fuck?

“Oh,” Steve’s eyebrow unfurrow and the right side of his mouth turns up into a small grin. “It’s you. Hi, Ed.” 

“Hi, Steve.” Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Gonna get your jeans off so you can sleep, okay?” 

“Mhm, yeah, that’s– thanks.” 

Eddie coaxes them off, tossing them onto a chair where they’ll remain until the next morning, and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table for when Steve inevitably wakes up with cottonmouth. One more soft kiss and an even softer blanket later, Steve is out and Eddie tip toes up the stairs to bed. 

The next morning, Eddie wakes to see Steve next to him. At some point, he must’ve woken up and gotten himself to bed which gives Eddie the opportunity to stare uninterrupted in the silence of their bedroom. It stands in stark contrast to the boisterous night before– the loud music and jumping bodies and Chrissy popping a bottle of champagne in celebration of Robin saying yes, as if there’d ever been a doubt. 

Steve’s on his back, the sun just starting to intrude on their tranquility. He takes in Steve’s features, the same ones he’s memorized time and time again but that never fail to stun him just the same. The moles, the freckles, the scars that make him ache and feel thankful simultaneously. The strong line of his jaw, the eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps, that one tendril of hair that insists on curling until Steve forces it into place. Eddie’s seen a lot of the world now, having traveled a bit with his band, and there’s nothing that compares to the man sleeping next to him. 

Even if he’s snoring. 

When Steve does eventually wake up, trudging downstairs with one eye open and asking why Long Island Iced Tea’s even exist, Eddie’s ready with the necessities– a black iced coffee, two sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches delivered to their doorstep, and a Gatorade for himself. 

“You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Steve smiles through the pounding headache as he sips his coffee and tears into the sandwich. 

“Eh, I try,” Eddie grins with a mouthful of egg and leans over to bump their shoulders together. 

Comfortable quiet drapes over them like the blanket from last night still over the back of the couch, and like the jeans hanging off the recliner– little reminders of the night before and of the domesticity of the life they’ve built together. 

Once Steve finishes his sandwich, their cat, Florence, hops up on the table and starts batting at the rolled up wrappers. 

“Think she wants to play,” Steve grumbles, sliding off the couch and laying on the carpet. “Listen, Florence, you know I love you but kid, I cannot play right now. I’m barely alive.” 

Eddie doubles over and nearly spits Gatorade all over the coffee table. Even their terrible, hungover, washed up mornings aren't all that bad.

[toysrguts]

sally face hc's!!!!

been putting off posting this for god knows what reason sally face fandom plz 🙏🙏🙏

sal:

•cuts his own hair with safety scissors

•his fav food is dino nuggets idc sue me

•runs his own lowkey piercing business. he even pierced larrys ears and ashleys nostril. he wants to make it a career in the future

•somehow so good at comforting everyone but himself

•always knows what to say when someone's having a hard time, probably cuz hes been through a lot and can easily put himself in others shoes

•always really reserved and shy until him and larry go to a concert together

•cares more about price than looks so most of his stuff doesnt match at all

•most, if not all of his clothes are from thrift stores

•most inconsistent sleep schedule ever. sometimes he goes to bed early and sleeps like a baby, other nights hes restlessly playing his gearboy until the sun comes up

•regular cigarette smoker, but will only smoke weed if larrys with him

•so fucking awkward but always has good intentions. bro just cannot communicate for shit

•when he meets new people he likes to freak them out with his glass eye when they least expect it

•definitely a big industrial fan (NIN, skinny puppy, KMFDM, etc) but his favorite band is korn

•also loves music from the late 70s-early 80s that he grew up hearing on the radio cuz it reminds him of the good memories he had with his mom

•his earth shattered when kurt cobain died

•started watching so much mtv after meeting larry cuz he wanted to be more educated on his kind of music

•his shoes are covered in doodles and signatures from the group

•theyre also hanging on by a thread cuz theyre old as shit and hes had them since grade 6 💀

•has a small collection of custom prosthetic eyes with different colors and cool shapes in them and stuff

•when he meets new people he likes to freak them out with his glass eye when they least expect it

•takes halloween VERY seriously

•writes songs for ppl he cares about and plays them on his guitar

•he wrote a song for ash once and she still asks him to play it for her every now and then

•typa fella to never cuff his pants so theyre all faded and torn and gross at the bottom

•collects random animal (or human) bones he finds around the woods of nockfell

•baggy clothes cuz body dysmorphia

•seems really calm and collected all the time but lets it all out behind closed doors

larry:

•sal’s tripsitter

•REEKS of axe body spray to cover the weed stank

•has literally witnessed murder but is DEATHLY afraid of most bugs

•pulls a lot of evil pranks and sal just goes along with it

•lisa taught him how to cook from a really early age

•whenever the gang is hanging out they force him to cook them food but he usually just goes the lazy route and microwaves some mac n cheese

•only really shows his emotions around sal because he knows he understands

•so attractive but carries himself like hes not

•uses humor to cope and often jokes about being fatherless

•has a guilty pleasure for pop music

•a grade above the rest of the group

•frequent guyliner wearer

•his paranoid ass carries a switchblade everywhere he goes for self defense

•actually carries so much random shit in his pockets

•has a framed photo on his nightstand of him and sal at a meet & greet with the members of sanity’s fall

•his band shirts are so ancient most of them have massive holes in them

•the group calls him “larr bear” to piss him off in a loving way

•the look on his face when lisa calls him that in front of people is priceless

ashley:

•hair is so damaged from constantly messing with it

•loves doing other ppls hair too, especially sals (they do matching hairstyles sometimes :3)

•brings her camera literally everywhere and has a scrapbook of a bunch of memories of the gang throughout highschool

•also just takes random pictures sometimes cuz shes really into photography

•carries bandaids everywhere she goes just in case

•has to decorate literally everything she owns and make it look cute

•does not hold back on adding stickers (sal lets her stick them all over his mask sometimes)

•usually dozes off before she takes her makeup off and then just fixes it up in the morning and rolls with it

•collects everyones baby teeth to make necklaces and jewelry with

•likes to practice nail art on everyone

•has the best sense of style out of the whole group. the amount of clothes and accessories in her closet is impressive and she always puts together the most fire fits

•has a huge shoe collection from adidas, to docs, to combat boots

•so sweet and friendly to literally everyone but will actually kill someone if they fuck with her

•has a really hectic home life so she basically trained herself to sleep like a rock through anything

•literally the mom of the group, shes always looking out for everyone especially cuz she has her own little brother she takes care of

•master of diy she can make something out of literally anything and make it look amazing

todd:

•when times get desperate he sells bud from his dad’s garden

•never even came out to his parents, he didnt feel a need to they just accepted it and never questioned him

•has so many plants around the house and has names for every single one

•he doesnt allow sal to bring gizmo to his apartment cuz he once tried to eat bob

•everyones always asking to touch his hair cuz he takes care of it so well its so soft and curly

•spends the most amount of time on the internet than the rest of the group

•probably why his eyesight is dogshit 😹😹😹

•his brain is like its own encyclopedia, he’ll just randomly drop the most insane fun facts on everyone for no reason but its always a good conversation starter

•his parents randomly tell him these crazy stories from when they were young hippies

•they almost named him some hippie shit like “star”

•talks to himself a lot, like actual conversations with himself. sometimes he just narrates what hes doing without even realizing it until his mom walks in and is like “who tf are u talking to”

•on the spectrum and is deadpan majority of the time so whenever hes being sarcastic its so hard to tell

•so full of wisdom literally everyone goes to him for advice, even his own parents sometimes

•thats a left handed mf if ive ever seen one

•not photogenic at all and always has to be suade into being in group pictures

other random things:

•when theres no mysteries to be investigated, the gang likes to have sleepovers at larrys place where they smoke and watch movies and play video games and stuff

•sal and larry take “whats mine is yours” to another level. theyre always together and they share pretty much everything, from clothes to literal toothbrushes (they are disgusting)

•sal brings gizmo to chug’s place sometimes so soda has someone to play with (she likes to style his fur and he steals her stickers)

•a lot of the songs from the ost were songs that sal, larry, and sometimes rob recorded together for fun

•rob also taught them both how to skate

•chug is a massive weeb

•ashley and todd are basically sal and larrys ubers cuz sal has horrible vision and larry got his license revoked

[jiminiecrickets]

LOVE’S LITTLE DAGGER. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung hates your guts, so you rearrange his. maybe he likes it more than he should.

wc. 3.6k

tags. smut | (eventually) sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy!tae, unprotected sex, brat taming (?), overstimulation (implied), teasing, handjobs, choking, shotgunning (position, i think?), they’re both very verbal and annoying, use of “puppy” and a couple mentions of “whore” (tae receiving) so maybe a bit of degradation

[ part two ]  [ requested + 2 ]

a boy with fire engine-red hair slams into your chest with both hands. your books and notes scatter to the floor, pens skidding across the empty hallway, and you barely avoid knocking your head against the wall.

"oops," he says innocently, those infamous smoky dark eyes fluttering down at you. "you should watch your step."

frustration bubbles like lava beneath your skin. just as he steps away, your hand darts out and hooks in the ripped knee of his blue jeans.

the snapping tear of cloth brings a satisfied smile to your face. he whips around, alarm flashing across his features, and he yanks his leg away to check his pants.

"juhyun's waiting for you in our hall," you inform him smugly, shuffling your papers into a messy stack and stuffing them into your messenger bag. you chase your pens, too used to his jabs to give him much more of a reaction. you glance up. "and her brother. she says you did some unspeakable things to the both of them, and they'd like a word with you. judging by the look on their faces," you slip the last handful of pens into your bag and rise to your feet, "i'd say you're in for a treat."

his brow furrows. he still smooths his jeans consciously, fiddling with the white threads. "who?"

"you fucked her," you say, "while dating her brother. don't you remember? it was last month."

he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his silk bomber jacket. "why would i? it wasn't even serious. i told him that."

"i'm just the messenger, taehyung. before you go..." you lean in, your lips brushing his earlobe. a spiked shiver runs down his spine. "i got a hundred-and-two on that test."

with that, you turn on your heel, carrying on down the hallway and rounding a corner. your shoes click on the linoleum sharply, and taehyung glowers at where your figure once was.

that's the third time he's smacked into you this week. why haven't you blown up at him yet?

just once, he'd love to see something on your face aside from that vile, arrogant smile and composed gaze. he's never seen you angry. nobody else has, either. 

when others see you, they see gentleness. no one but him knows the look in your eye when they meet his, glittering with edged, haughty superiority. there are a thousand whispers about who you are and who you might've been – some say that a violent past turned you into an all-around pacifist.

it confuses him. why would someone so apparently gentlemanly and non-confrontational arouse such wild rumours? what is it about civility that impresses less than savagery? why are his pants so tight?

he scowls and shifts his belt, messing with the pant leg you'd seized earlier. it still doesn't sit right, twisted halfway around his calf, but he's running out of time for his next class and he doesn't have a lot of late strikes left.

he hurries away, pretty girls and their pretty brothers the farthest thing from his agitated mind.

two hours later, taehyung slaps a stapled paper down in front of you. everyone in a six-metre radius in the cafeteria falls silent, wide eyes trained on the absolute fury rippling from taehyung's body. they whisper behind their palms.

"you fucking cheat," he hisses without any attempt at discretion. "a hundred-and-two. a hundred, and two? what'd you do, fuck the t.a.?"

neatly, you place aside your chopsticks, sliding the plate of sushi out of the way for the paper you dig out of your bag, formatted exactly the same as taehyung's all the way down to the size of hanging indents and margin spacing.

you flip to the last page and tap your finger against a brief paragraph before the conclusion. "one extra mark for addressing category nine-b. it was one sentence on an otherwise packed page full of more important parts, so i'm not surprised you skimmed over it."

taehyung flips over to the rubric stapled to the back of his assignment. he scans down to nine, and his frown deepens with every line.

a single-line paragraph indented as if it was part of the previous one. extra marks: /1.

he wants so badly to slap the smirk off your face that it takes every effort to dilate his blood vessels. an incorrectly-formatted guide has just cost him everything.

"hey, a hundred per cent is still amazing," you comfort him sympathetically. your eyes glimmer pridefully as you lean back. "you know, i think we're now about even."

he snatches up the papers, and after a moment's pause, your yet-to-be-touched coffee. "i don't want to be even," he mutters, and he stalks away.

—

while your spaghetti simmers in a pot in the kitchen, taehyung saunters by. he drops half a shaker of salt into it. "oh. my hand slipped."

your jaw clenches. "taehyung, this is very petty. even for you."

he grunts, watching as you pour out the steaming water and rinse off as much salt as you can. most of it dissolved as soon as it hit the bubbling water, and you make a note to add more tomato into the base. maybe it'll help hide the salt. 

"i wouldn't be if someone would stop inviting his friends over to play mario kart when i'm trying to get my rocks off."

"what?" you ask with a roll of your eyes, stirring a pot of sauce. "you want me to listen to your weird noises for two hours straight?" you mimic his growly moan, low in the throat and reverberating through the chest, and taehyung's back teeth grind and he shifts on the sofa. he's never heard anything like it come out of you before.

"then stop opening my door!" he argues.

"it must get stuffy in there."

jumping to his feet, taehyung crosses into the kitchen in two steps and jabs your chest with a finger, anger flushing his neck to his ears. "you are the reason i'm like this. i haven't been able to do anything for three fucking weeks because of your stupid blue shells – i’m constantly aware that you could walk in at any second! the next time you bring someone pretty over, you're gonna be seeing me so much you'll practically be fucking me instead."

you turn away from the pot and turn off the stove. taehyung glances down uncertainly at it – why'd you do that?

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you ask impatiently, an octave deeper than usual. you step forward; he doesn't give. he can feel the minty heat of your breath against his cheeks.

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs. "you? you wouldn't know what to do with a cock if it was in front of your face."

your gaze sweeps over his body – casual, clean. yet, it feels as if you've stripped him raw.

"where i'm interested, i don't need to know what to do with your cock," you murmur. "and after i'm done with you... you'll be too gone to care."

warmth rides up his spine. it takes a moment for him to register that it's your hand creeping beneath his shirt and bumping over the ridges of his spine.

"what's wrong, taehyung?" the way his name rolls off your tongue sounds too sweet to be the poison he knows it to be. "never taken a cock before?"

"of course i have," he snaps without realising what exactly has been said. his throat bobs and he averts his eyes, gnawing on his lower lip furiously. "i mean... well..."

your grin widens. "well?"

"just... me. my hands."

"your hands?" you repeat with an arched brow and a soft chuckle that has taehyung hot under the collar. "cute. can't find anyone willing to tame you, hm?"

taehyung bristles. "i don't need taming," he growls, leaning in those few centimetres more until your noses touch. "but i bet you'd like to try."

he slams his mouth onto yours, twisting his fingers in your hair. your hands close around his slim waist, pushing him back against the wall, and he gasps as you tug his hair back to give you better access to his swan-like throat, warm and golden.

a muffled groan trickles past his tight lips as you shove your knee between his thighs. your hands roll his hips for him – as if he doesn't know what to do.

his grip tightens in your hair. bastard.

you nip at his neck, littering hot, stinging hickeys along the smooth line of his throat. his dick throbs embarrassingly in his jeans and he reaches for it.

you slap his hand away, tilting your leg to grind your cock into his. he gasps and moans as his knuckles hit the wall and you take the opportunity to press him harder into the wall, restricting how much he can move.

for someone so flammable, he's awfully good at taking everything you throw at him.

"you – hah – fuck everyone so roughly?" he sighs.

"only the brats." you tug at his belt with deft fingers. "mm. you're already so hard, puppy."

he glares as best he can with lust-blown pupils. "i'll kill you."

"really, puppy? how, if you can't even control yourself like this?" your palm glides over his hot cock. "tell me, baby."

"i'll – i'll get the hundred-and-two next time. it'll be my name next to the number one, and you'll be the one pinned to a stupid wall – fuck!"

you let loose a long, slow whistle, and taehyung's face burns. you grin, pressing a kiss to his lips. "for someone who's in bed with another every other night, you're surprisingly desperate. you're close, yeah?"

"shut your mouth," he grits out between clenched teeth, his hips rutting into your twisting hand. "mm – s'your fault. you and—"

"me and my blue shells, i know," you tease, ignoring your own problem for taehyung's adorably furrowed brows. your hand jerks sharply and you'll never forget his stuttered moan and the way he half-crumples, knees buckling as his fingers dig into the wall behind him. "come up with something new, and i'll let you come."

his head whips around so fast he's at risk of snapping his neck. "what?"

"you heard me, puppy." you swipe your thumb over his leaking slit and he groans into his shoulder. your hand slows to a turtle's crawl and you glance down with a hum, encircling him with a thumb and forefinger. "it’s very pretty. but i'm bigger."

he bucks his hips. "fuck you."

"don't get me wrong, baby. you've got nothing to be ashamed of. i'm just getting you ready – mentally."

he could kill you right there. but, as you tilt his head to meet your lips, he can't help but soften just that little bit more, already half a mess with his jeans struggling around his hips.

"i hate you," he groans, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as you squeeze his cock, and his face flushes with heat as it twitches in your palm and you glance up at him with a smug grin. "no, i – i'm serious. you're a competitive jerk who's crazy-obsessed with me and beating me at everything. you're the poster boy for desperation for validation. i bet if i told you that you did well on your last assignment, you'd cream your pants like a teenager."

you chuckle and press your lips to his ear, loosing a soft, teasing moan just for him. "careful, taehyung. don't make me angry. you're the one taking it."

the way your words roll over him, concentrating in his cock, pisses him off. he twists his wrists out of your grip and grabs your jaw, thumbs at the base of your ears, and yanks your mouth onto his as he steps forward. you push his jeans down and he chuckles breathlessly as you urge him to jump – he does, and you catch him with impressive ease. he knows where his centre of balance is, and he's considerate enough to shift it close to yours.

you can't believe you're calling kim taehyung considerate. his hobbies include stealing your food and locking you out of the dorm when you leave to discard the rubbish.

"my room," he mumbles against your mouth, his kisses hot and nerve-stinging. "it's closer."

"read my mind." you toss him onto his bed, resting one knee against the mattress as you tug your belt off. taehyung pulls his hoodie over his head into an indeterminate corner and crawls closer, sliding his palms up against the soft denim of your jeans, gazing up at you with dark, hooded eyes and a proud curl at the corner of his lips. he nips the warm skin above your waistband when he draws the zipper down with his teeth.

"you're stupid," he whispers, "and handsome. i hate you."

"a hundred and two," you remind him, and reach for the back of your collar. you tug it over your head and taehyung's appreciative gaze doesn't go unnoticed. "i hate you, too. you're a bully and immature. you drink all the milk and never buy more."

he turns over onto his stomach and spreads his knees, tossing his hair with a kiss-plumped smirk. "give me a reason to."

your palm glides down his spine, resting over the high curve of his ass. he pushes back into your hand and gasps as you press your thumb into him, his cock pulsing.

"idiot! who s-starts with the..." his eyes flutter shut as a moan bubbles its way from his belly. "oh..."

you hum. "someone's been having their fun, hm? were you playing with yourself right before you threw half a kilo of salt into my poor dinner? that explains why you're so tetchy – and sensitive."

"shut up!" he grumbles, his cheeks the darkest shade of pink you've ever seen. "just – just fuck me, already. i've done half your job for you."

"you sure?" you reach below him, fingers grazing his pulsing cock. it's embarrassingly eager, and he arches his back prettily in an attempt to taunt your attention elsewhere.

"i can take it," he says with a stupid heft of confidence. he grins, cocky. "guys always add a couple of inches."

you scoff and grab his thighs, pressing them together. he might think he doesn't need it, but he needs to relax as much as possible. he hums and presses his cheek into a pillow with a teasing sway of his hips, rolling back against your bulge as you fiddle with his bottle of lube.

he hears the shuffle of cloth and the clink of a metal buckle, and he grows impatient as the lid clicks shut. "shit, take any longer and i'll go—ah, god!"

you smooth your palms over his heaving ribs, hushing him as you rock your hips deeper into his. 

"f-fuck," he moans, arching back into you. "oh, shit, baby, you feel so big in me... fuck me, damn it—mmh..."

you start off slow, gently allowing him to get used to you. after his first verbal outburst, he dissolves into pleased moans, finally relieved of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. he relaxes, expression soft and open as his brow furrows.

he's pretty when he's not biting at your fingers. you smirk.

you draw back until just the tip, then snap your hips forward.

he hisses, legs kicking at your thighs as he shudders, pleasure running up his spine. you stroke a line down his spine and squeeze his supple ass.

setting a slow, easy pace, you grind your hips into his ass, hushing him as he judders and whines into his pillow. his teeth clamp down on the soft cotton and you groan softly as he clenches around you, the tight ring of muscle scraping against your shaft.

"still think you can take it?" you murmur with a smug grin, smoothing a hand over the dip of his waist. "you're shaking like a leaf, taehyung."

"sh-shut up." he grits his teeth and throws his head back with a blissful moan as you give his ass a playful smack. "feels good, s'all..."

"good," you reply, cocky amusement leeching into your voice. it's so familiar that something inside taehyung instinctively tenses with anger. "maybe a good lay is all you need to loosen up. metaphorically, of course."

"fuck you!" he barks.

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?" with a harsh thrust, you stroke his hips, gently pulling him backwards onto your cock. he looks so pretty, stretched wide around you – it's a boost to the ego you don't really need. "always have to come out on top, always have to be the one giving orders... can't take a fucking break around you. you're really quite infuriating."

"a-at least i'm not a fucking pushover!"

he lets out a sound between a moan and a mewl as you shove him down, speeding up until your hips slap against his ass loudly. if someone were to walk by, they'd have no questions about what you're doing.

you twist your fingers in his dyed locks near the base of his neck and tug sharply, silencing his gasped, raspy moans as he buries his face in the pillow, his eyes rolling back briefly as his whole body bounces harshly.

the cheap dorm bed creaks. roommates were assigned by gender, which was a lousy and backwards attempt to stop students from fucking. it wasn't as if they tried very hard, either – a quartet of girls could reside three steps away from a quartet of boys because segregating entire buildings on gender was apparently too much and not good for pr.

still, you can't help but grin, tipping your head back with a soft groan. breaking the rules has never felt so good.

"you like getting pushed over, puppy. moaning like a whore for my cock, spreading your legs so eagerly – you've hit a new low. you'd let just about anyone fuck you, wouldn't you, puppy? even people you can't fucking stand?" you purr into his ear, your chest rolling against his freckled back. you connect the cute dots with your tongue and he shudders with a whimper, fists twisting in his bedsheets. you pump his cock rapidly in tine with your thrusts and he leaks endlessly, slicking up the warm tunnel of your fist as he bucks furiously into it. "what, not gonna say anything now? c'mon, puppy. you're not agreeing that you're a whore, are you? goad me into fucking you harder – i dare you."

all he does is whine tearfully, hips jerking against yours as your cock slams into his swollen prostate and glides past, filling him up like nothing ever has before.

"i'm gonna c-come," he cries, scrambling to cover his mouth when a particularly well-aimed thrust unravels every thought in his head. he struggles to build them back up, rocking harshly against the mattress as your cock pulses hotly inside of him, twitching at the sight and burning heat of him. "gonna come, gonna come, fuck fuck fuck, ye-e-es—!"

with a final low moan, he spurts in your fist, his thighs trembling and twitching as you fuck him through his high. his chest heaves and he lets himself relax into the pillow he hugs under him, lashes fluttering as you gradually slow, your warm, slick fist milking him of everything he's worth.

“i win,” you coo.

dazedly, he pants softly against his pillow, lashes fluttering as you scrape your nails against his scalp. you pull it back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head, as red as his cheeks. his heart thumps against his chest, deep and echoing to his core.

"f-fuck," he whispers, mewling in surprise as your thrusts speed up again. he bucks against your cock and cries, "fuck—!"

somewhere between his moans, slowly sliding up in pitch, you can gather a single question: why?

you flip him over, thrusting in deep as you settle yourself between his golden thighs and wrap a hand around his untouched throat. 

so smooth, so agonisingly perfect. you'll have to amend that.

his dark, glossy eyes can't stay on you for long, rolling back as he spreads his shaky legs wider and half-sobs. he claws uselessly at your hand and wrist.

you slide it further up, gripping just behind his jaw to stop him from thrashing and throwing his head back. you force him to look you in the eye with those pretty, unfocused, blown-out eyes, nearly black with just the slightest hint of honey-gold around the rim.

"what, you thought we were done?" you glide your hand down his tense stomach and over his cock, smearing his cum and arousal over his hot skin. he shivers, sweat-slick, and flushes in embarrassment, oddly docile. "i still haven't finished, puppy. you'll take it like a good boy, won't you, taehyung?"

he releases a soft, choked whine, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly. he nods, twitching as your cock buries itself deep in his guts, and his hands fall limply beside his head, fisting the abused pillow.

"atta boy." you pull his thighs around your hips and he locks his ankles over your back, holding you close. you want to watch him as your tip punches his prostate, over and over, chasing your own ruthless high.

you want to fuck that lazy, cocky attitude out of him. you want to see him break.

and you will, you muse as you watch him writhe and whimper, his soft, pretty cock bouncing on his tummy. but not yet. he's still glaring up at you with shiny eyes and hot pink cheeks, embarrassed at the predicament of his own making.

you wrap your warm, messy fist around his cock and grin hungrily as it throbs in interest. he jerks, eyes widening almost fearfully as he tugs your cock in deeper by his legs around your waist.

you know where to start.

[querenciasturniolo]

i absolutely love your writing! could you maybe write something like nick and y/n is best friends and play argue/ fight all the time but y/n accidentally admits her feelings about matt and nick goes ballistic?

obviously ⮕ n.s.

word count: 1k

warnings: swearing, accidental confession, shame, embarrassment

summary: one slip of the tongue has you at a complete loss of words

a/n: thank you so much 🫶🏻 this is such a funny concept, and it was so fun writing it.

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

Nick never kept anything he was feeling to himself.

It was one of his many charms, constantly saying how he felt. You loved it, considering he was your best friend. You were never bored when Nick was on one of his rants. Right now was one of those moments, the two of you were laying in his bed, your stomach aching with how hard you were laughing.

“No, I’m serious! This old ass man was walking so fucking slow in front of me, and then pushed the pull door. He deserved it though, he wouldn’t let me pass.” He said. You shook your head and ran your hands through your hair.

“You always get yourself in the worst situations, I swear.” You said, another smaller laugh bubbling out of you as you sat up.

Nick pushed himself up and pulled his phone out. “Okay, topic change. Why are you posting all of these mushy, agonizingly painful text quotes about love on threads all of a sudden?” He asked. You turned to face him with your eyebrows raised.

“What are you talking about?”

Nick scoffed and tapped away on his phone, pulling up your threads profile and reading one of your posts out loud. “The only love that lasts is unrequited love.” He quotes dramatically, putting his whole soul into the theatrics. “I am in love with you, and I can’t do anything about it.” He finished. Your face was burning as you shook your head and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I thought they were beautiful.” You said, the look on Nick’s face completely unamused.

“Just tell me, Y/n. I’m not gonna judge you.” He said. He stood from his bed then, the expression on his face goofy. “Is it me? Are you in love with me? I wouldn’t blame you, I’m great.” You threw your head back and laughed, meeting Nick’s smiling face once more as you shook your head.

“Please, I’m not that delusional.” You said, reaching down and sliding your shoes onto your feet. “There’s no point in me saying it, because it would never happen anyway.”

Nick’s hand rested on your shoulder, your gaze meeting his. He was frowning, and you couldn’t help but scoff at him. “Okay, now I’m convinced that it’s me.” He said, a goofy smile on his face.

You snorted and shook your head before reaching for the door handle. “Nope.” You said, Nick raising his eyebrows.

“Chris, then? You guys have been hanging out a lot.” You scoffed and pulled a face, making it seem like you found it ridiculous.

“Wrong brother, but nice try.” You said, your hand freezing before you turned the knob. You could feel the gears turning in his head as he processed your slip up.

“Oh my God, it’s Matt, isn’t it?”

You turned your head to face him, more than likely resembling a deer in headlights as you met his eyes. His eyes were wide as realization dawned on him.

“Holy shit, I knew it!” He shouted. You shushed him, holding your hands up. Nick shook his head and stepped past you, slowly turning the door handle.

“Nicolas Antonio, I swear to God.” You said through your teeth, trying to avoid laughing as he ripped open the door and bolted down the stairs. You chased after him, shouting obscenities the moment you had him cornered. He was on the other side of the dining table, his smile playful as he moved from side to side, trying to catch you off guard. You were one step ahead of him, laughter trying its hardest to break through your lips as you beamed at Nick, shaking your head with each movement he made.

“I will smite you, I can promise you that.” You said, the both of you moving to the left quickly, completely switching sides of the table. Your back was to the sink, his to the stairs and both of your hands resting on the back of a chair.

Nick laughed quietly and shook his head. “I’m not going to tell Matt you like him, obviously. That’s just fucked up.” He said. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, you noticed the movement out of the corner of your eye.

It took you too long to process that Matt was standing next to the fridge, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. You felt all of the color drain out of your face, shame and embarrassment creeping in as your eyes flickered between Nick and Matt. Nick finally turned around, his eyes widening when seeing Matt standing there.

Before anyone could say anything, you rushed around the table and down the stairs, rushing out of the house and to your car.

The entire drive home, you were ignoring your phone vibrating, wanting to let yourself calm down and get home before you even looked. It took you getting to your room and sitting on your bed before you even pulled your phone out to see.

You sighed and messaged Nick back, letting him know you weren’t mad at him and that you just needed some time to yourself to process everything.

You were mortified, to say the least. It felt childish to be embarrassed about having your feelings for someone revealed, but considering you’d known him your entire life, it almost felt…desperate.

It felt as though you’d ruined everything. You never wanted Matt to find out about your feelings for him, you were planning on just ignoring these feelings and letting them go away. Knowing them for as long as you have, it felt almost wrong, like you weren’t supposed to have these feelings because of your friendship.

You groaned and dropped back on your bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it against your face to muffle yourself. Tomorrow you’d be over this, you knew the embarrassment and shame would go away quickly. You’d never been the type to let something like this hold you down, but you figured it was the shock of it all happening so quickly.

It felt like you were laying there for ages, your pillow resting on your face lightly and your arms resting above your head. Your phone vibrated next to you, your hand reaching for it blindly as the other pushed your pillow off of your head. You figured it was a text from Nick, probably asking you if you wanted to talk about it or something along those lines.

Your heart stopped in your chest when Matt’s name lit up your screen. You immediately opened the text, your hands shaking as you read over the three words over and over again.

[silasours]

% 1 ━ Yours Deerly, A .

#chapters : [ previous | next ] #cw : your unique soul that piqued the great alastor's interest; he decided to write letters just for you until you finally reach hell. alastor x gn reader. may include adult themes and mild swearing. #note : quick thank you to @sea-bunniii for helping me with the fic title :3 this is the series I talked about, lmk if you'd like to be tagged! enjoy.

there is nothing around you but darkness for as long as you can remember now.

you never really understood what was happening; you tried pulling yourself out of this pitch-black surrounding but failed. you tried to speak but can't seem to utter a word from your parted lips. you rely on your hearing to keep track of your surroundings, but there's something in particular to note after quite some time. there were times when a strange, muffled radio static voice rang through your ears, words never clear enough for you to comprehend what it was trying to say. times when you'd see a blurred figure standing before you, but never clear enough for even a rough appearance, let alone a name.

millions of possibilities would run through your mind endlessly about them. is this a message for you, or are you just gradually losing your mind and hallucinating? you often try your best to push those thoughts aside while listening to the people around you who talk about your condition. but that, too, didn't bring you any good news. every day you would hear about how your life is merely hanging by a thin thread, that they might lose you any minute as they speak.

you mentally sigh, hoping that death would just swallow you up whole now instead of taking its sweet time. maybe by then, you'll finally gain your freedom back.

"hm." the radio demon squints his eyes slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the thin cane he holds. yet another failed attempt. he lifts a hand from the cane and opens his palm, an eerily green glow appears on top until it forms a certain line of words. "looks like this little soul is back in the human world for the time being."

it has been a month since alastor took notice of your soul. your soul that affected him ever so slightly whenever you traveled from the human world and back; it felt like something was lurking in his surroundings when your soul arrived at hell. he ignored it for a couple days, brushing it off as something uninteresting until it lasted for more than a week. with curiosity, he tries his best to wrap his aura around this thing he has been feeling.

noting that it was your soul he was observing, his curiosity grew. your soul would arrive in hell without being in an actual body and find its way to return to the human world. there was not a single effect cast on it, as if it's just a normal travel through countries and cities. nothing like this has ever happened in the underworld, not to alastor's knowledge at least.

as an overload who claims multiple souls, he naturally tried to claim yours as well after seeing the potential of it benefitting him. he tried to insert his voice and appearance into your soul and communicate with you once it returns to your body in the human world, but he failed every time. no matter how many times he improvised his ways, your soul rejects him without struggle.

annoyance started fueling him, yet it is also the sole reason why he has grown more interested in your unique soul. never has he ever struggled this much to obtain a mere soul; usually it could be done with just a snap of his fingers, yet all he could do to your soul is observe and know the place it's in through the aura that he managed to wrap it in.

keeping his head upright, he opens the door of the room that he claimed as his. closing the door behind him, alastor smoothes out his coat while walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. the heel of his shoes thud against the carpet he walks on, chattering gradually growing louder from afar. the light grew brighter down the hallway he passed by until he reached the staircase, now able to view everyone at the main compartment of the hotel from above.

he takes his time walking down the steps, the sound of his heels catches the attention of the blond woman - charlie. her smile grew at the sight of alastor, hurriedly grabbing a small stack of papers from the long table and jogging toward him. alastor widens his smile, tapping on his cane while standing in place.

"why hello there, my friend! you seem busy, what could you possibly be working on?" he watches as charlie clumsily flips through the papers, a slight frown scrunched on her forehead until she finds the paper she needs. she smoothes the paper, turning it to alastor so he's able to read the contents clearly. she clears her throat before speaking.

"alastor, hi! well, you see, is it alright if i ask you for a small, tiny favor?" she seems hesitant to ask judging from her tone.

"why of course! ask away and i shall consider."

"great!" charlie returns to her usual bubbly self, quickly scanning the paper to look for the specific content she needs to show the radio demon. "here, take a look at this. it says here that it's required to write a letter for the request of a big stock sent to our location. and i'm, well.." her hand stretches to scratch the back of her neck nervously, an awkward smile on her face.

"i'm not so good with letters." she tries to relieve her own awkwardness with a chuckle, but it seems it did nothing but made it worse. "i was wondering if you could.. help out with the letters? just this once! I've heard how good you are with words when it comes to letters. please? i don't really have anyone else to ask." charlie gazes at alastor, her eyes shining with hope as her hands clutch tightly onto the papers.

alastor laughs. "i would love to, my dear! it is but mere letters, nothing i can't handle." he extends an arm towards charlie, his fingers stretched out with his palm facing upwards; a gesture to accept the papers and help. the woman excitedly places the papers onto his hand, his fingers now folded to hold the papers firmly. his eyes briefly look through the documents with a small nod of his head. "consider it done. fear not! I'll be able to finish this by dinner."

"thank you so much, alastor!" charlie flashes him a grateful smile before jogging off, feeling relieved without having to worry about finishing something she's not particularly good at. alastor's gaze fall onto the papers he holds, something molding and forming in his head; an idea. he hums to himself as he dives into deep thought, paying no mind to his surrounding for the time being.

if he, the great alastor isn't able to physically reach out to your little soul, there ought to have nothing else that will be able to achieve that as well. though, leaving messages until you physically arrive in hell may help him accomplish his goal. as one first falls into hell, they often get hit by a strong sense of confusion and even panic. if he takes advantage of the emotion you may hold, luring you in with a false sense of security, things will certainly go smoothly and result in success.

his thoughts abruptly got interrupted by vaggie's voice yelling from the kitchen, demanding for everyone to have lunch now that it's all prepared. instead of walking forward, alastor turns around and starts walking up the very same stairs he just walked down minutes ago. he rarely joins them for any group activity; it's only common to see him joining them if the event will benefit him in any way.

a small tune is audible from him humming as he walks, the papers that were once held by him vanish in a split second, leaving behind small traces of dark green sparkles around the area. the chattering grows soft once again the further he walks from the stairs, now walking down the hallway until the familiar door is in his range of view. using the very same aura to push the door open, he enters his room as the door shuts itself behind him.

walking towards his neat working desk, alastor's heart pounds against his chest from the clear idea he has in his head. he sets his cane aside carefully, allowing it to lean against the desk before pulling the plush chair from the elegantly carved table. he sits on the chair, papers and calligraphy pen appearing with a simple snap of his clawed fingers. paying no mind to the letter he should be working on for charlie, the pen straightens from the table by itself and starts scribbling words onto the blank sheet of paper.

he completely sets his focus on the letter he plans to write for you. it's been a while since he picked up his favorite pen to handwrite a letter for someone, the feeling stirs something in his chest. is it excitement? or is it nervousness? even alastor doesn't understand himself. brushing the thought aside, he lowers the pen until the tip comes in contact with the paper lying flat on the surface of the desk. the paper he chose is a special one; it's vintage, like an old paper that has been left sitting in the drawer for years.

it has a sense of familiarity in it, providing comfort in an odd way to alastor. it almost felt like he was writing love letters for someone he doesn't know at all. ink flows from the pen and onto the paper, the small glob of black ink weakly reflecting light from the desk lamp he has. cautiously, he glides the pen across the paper; every stroke and every curve of the words gradually form a sentence, and then a whole paragraph.

he would pause from time to time, digging for the correct words to write in his brain. it was unexpected to even the demon himself, to think that someone like him would spend this much effort for a mere letter. it took almost half an hour for him to finish his first letter to you, signing his name at the bottom with a content heart.

his eyes scan through every word he wrote, reading everything all over again until he confirms that it has no mistake. his fingers reach out to grab the envelope beside him, sliding the neatly folded paper into it. feeling satisfied with his work, alastor seals the letter with wax that has the shape of a radio pressed onto the top.

he holds the letter; it has a color of deep shade red along with a couple of drawn-on flowers. he pulls the drawer that's seated on the lower left of the desk open, revealing an empty compartment. alastor places the sealed letter in the drawer, pushing it back in until there's a click signaling that the drawer is fully closed. he glances at the letter he promised to finish for charlie, finding it now neatly lying on the desk without a single movement.

alastor exhales lightly from his mouth, allowing his back to lean against the chair with his head tilted back. he feels his muscles relax despite never realizing they were tensed before this, eyelids falling, shutting until he sees nothing but darkness.

"ah.. such troubles i need to go through for this little soul."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#18: The Broken Bliss (1.03)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

“Bye” ended up being a fitting title for episode 3, both to complete the “Years Gone Bye” thing in homage to the TWD pilot "Days Gone Bye" and also because there were several shocking goodbyes in this episode. Including in this teaser where Rick is forced to kiss his hopes of escaping with Michonne goodbye 😢...

I really enjoy the ride of ep 3 and can now find the humor in things from this episode, but y’all, I wasn't as lighthearted when I first watched. I was so sad for both Michonne and Rick as they had to navigate both the elation and the complications that had come with finding each other again.

Like seeing the way crippling fear was fogging Rick’s perspective and the way Michonne was starting to feel like she’s gonna have to figure out how to bring her family back together all by herself. It was a lot. 🥺 But it was all very interesting. Also, even in an episode where Rick and Michonne spend a large chunk of it in a marital fight, I love that their love for each other is still extremely blatant. 

So first, in the episode one recap that played before episode 2 they start with Okafor talking about how As are sent away and killed and I know they included that because the Civic Republic has now just brought in the most A person that could ever A - Dana Bethune aka Michonne Grimes.

Then, the episode opens with a flashback from years ago as we see a line of consignees' shoes and then we know it’s Rick when we see his signature boots that are hanging on by a thread. That man is loyal to the core, even to his boots. 😋

gif cred: @perryabbott

The CRM says, “This is gonna be your home someday soon” but you know Rick knows this place will never be home.

He walks and takes in the place, turning around to observe some windmills and buildings. This shows how he's an A unlike the other consignees because he's assessing this place rather than just going along with things.

As he turns and walks alone past different booths, I remember just thinking how he would so much rather be walking hand in hand with Michonne and Judith right now. Or, if this wasn’t a place you can’t leave, he’d want to be enjoying this little farmers market cuteness with them. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As he walks he hears Jadis ask for a napkin and he turns to her and it’s clear of all the familiar faces he could have been stuck with in the CRM Jadis is not one he’d ever choose.

She’s all smirking as she greets him and is just casually talking about the fries and I was so annoyed to see Jadis acting like she didn’t full-on pluck Rick away from his wife and daughter seemingly for good. Also, Jadis wasting those fries is added to the long list of why she's trifling. 😑 

Rick hesitantly walks with Jadis and she starts to explain how her Heapsters group from s7 would give lost souls who needed saving to the CRM and also they’d give people who are threats to the CRM in exchange for supplies. Jadis says she waited for Rick’s orientation so they could talk which I’m sure he prefers she didn’t lol.

She shares that the CRM keeps asking her what they should ask Rick and she hopes Rick will say he’s looking for someone to follow…but uh he already found someone with a sword to follow years ago at the prison. 😌

Jadis tries to be chummy with Rick saying he can talk to her because the CRM can’t surveil them here and Rick gets straight to addressing the audacity of the matter when he reminds Jadis, “You brought me somewhere I can’t leave.”

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

The way Rick says that first line, you know he feels this is the worst punishment keeping him away from his family. He does not view this as being saved but being trapped. 

(Side note: whatever that rebar recovery process was like for Rick leading up to this point treated him very kindly because they had him looking especially fine in this scene, just saying.😊 Also, for the longest time Season 8 Rick held the title of Rick's finest era to me, but Rick's TOWL era holds the title now without question 👌🏽)

Jadis says she could have chosen to let him die on the riverbed or told the CRM he was a threat. She notes how the CRM doesn’t take chances but she did because she owed him. At least she knows that much. 😒

Rick asks why she’s not also working consignment and idk why Jadis is all smirky but she is and Rick knows she doesn’t have to work consignment because she trafficked him. And they wonder why she’ll never be redeemable in my eyes. Like she basically sold Rick to this place as almost a currency to upgrade her life. Trash in all the ways. 😤🗑

gif cred: @clonecaptains

So Rick has one of those quick pissed smiles and walks away from Jadis but she follows after him to tell him that she’s enlisting in this place and she’s gonna sign up and move up the ranks because she believes in the CRM and its 500-year plan “to recreate the world as it was, better than it was.”

And while the way CRM folk buy into the 500-year plan definitely was giving cult vibes I can at the very least empathize with how they all might feel excited about the idea of the world potentially regaining normalcy after years of an apocalypse. However, their means of regaining normalcy through mass killings is atrocious.

Rick looks like he’s barely listening as Jadis tries to sell why this place is so great and why it’s the future. She says joining this place’s mission to change the world seems like a perfectly fine way to spend a life. But like girl, that may be the case if you didn't have a family and were community-less…but Rick has a whole wife and kid(s) at home and there’s no other way he’d rather spend his life than with them.

Jadis says, “The people that we left behind - their children’s children will have a world.” Can we start first with Rick even meeting his child RJ before people start recruiting him to a life of servitude for the children’s children?? And “people we left behind” is annoyingly phrased as if among those people isn’t Rick’s wife and daughter and as if he willingly left them behind. 😑

gif cred: @perryabbott

I love that Rick gets fed up and stops to look right at her with his steely eyes as he tells her point blank “I’m going home.” Now that was some signature Rick Grimes and I love it. 👏🏽

It makes me happy to see how absolutely determined he was to make it back home and also sad knowing that it would be so much harder than he could have ever expected at this moment.

But also I’m glad that he wanted to make this so clear to Jadis who really seemed to think Rick would just be cool with building some all-new life here. She tried it to capacity but I’d expect nothing less from her. 😪

Jadis knows Rick is serious and that she should back off when she just tells him, “Follow your bliss, Rick. But I did save your life. That is what happened” She really stays ticking me off with each thing she says and does and we haven’t even cut to the present yet where she pisses me off on another level. 🙃

Rick looks at her pissed too as he walks away from her because yes she kept him from dying that day of the bridge explosion but her actions ultimately led to Rick having to endure a far more painful death - the death where you’re still alive but a shell of who you once were, filled only with the ache from being torn from your loved ones. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As Rick walks away, Jadis has to put the cherry on top of the tried-it sundae and tell Rick, “You’re welcome.” 🙄

There is a moment when Rick hears this and sorta tilts his head like he’s gonna turn around and say something back. And knowing how willingly petty Rick can be toward Jadis I’m sure he had something real slick and insulting to say. But he smartly decides not to cause a scene as he keeps walking forward.

They also have Rick stop for a moment as he seems to see something ahead and I’d like to think it’s the portraiture booth. After that frustrating encounter with Jadis, I know he could use a palette cleanser so I bet he went straight to that artist Benjiro for his first much-needed images of Michonne and Judith. 👌🏽

Then we cut to hours ago in the present as Rick knocks on Pearl’s door. (See how he actually knocks rather than barging in like some others 🙂) Pearl opens the door and she's been understandably crying over the death of their longtime leader Okafor and Rick is completely unconcerned about that at this moment lol.

While Pearl’s broken up and worried about if Rick’s okay after surviving a traumatic helicopter crash and attack, Rick is like...

Truly Rick's energy is like 'that crash stuff is all old news and there's something far more important on the agenda.'

He immediately and urgently gets into the Dana conversation telling Pearl, “Just listen to me. There’s a woman who saved me.” And I of course love the wording of that because it’s true in every way that Michonne saved and saves him. Also, if I were Pearl I’d be like so now when someone saves you you give them credit for it? 🙃

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick doesn’t look at Pearl as he speaks at first because I know he knows his face could give him away and reveal just how important this all is to him. He says this heroic mystery woman is in designation intake right now and then he does look right at Pearl to tell the truth that, “She’s an A.”

Then with too much passion in his eyes, Rick says, “And I don’t want them to send her away.” I was like now Rick, yes Michonne is supposed to be putting on an act in the CRM but you are too sir and for as long as Pearl has known you I don’t think she’s ever seen this much light and urgency behind your eyes about anything.

Like before this, Rick was the man who seemed like he didn’t give a damn about anything involving the CRM, and now all of a sudden he's fully activated over this new consignee. 🤭 This was one of the many moments where I was just looking at Rick like babe, change the plan cuz this 'undercover lovers' thing ain’t gonna work. 

Pearl says Rick doesn’t know for sure if this new girl is an A but he knows Michonne is an A more than he knows his own name lol. And I love how even despite years apart he still knows Michonne is an A++.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick maintains his urgency saying, “I’m making a call. But if I argue for her they’ll think I’m emotional, indebted.” Which again I know Rick is thinking 'And the CRM would be right in assessing that because I owe that woman everything.'

Then he passionately says, “You gotta make sure she stays.” And that was not an ask, that was an order Rick made because this is something he‘s gonna make sure happens at all costs.

Pearl looks at Rick and squints for a moment finally picking up on the fact that this man in front of her is a different and far more impassioned Grimes than she’s ever seen before as she asks, “Why?” validly wondering why it’s so important to Rick that this new lady stays in this city of thousands.

And the way Rick lays it on thick with the lie as he tries to say with conviction, “For Okafor. Because that’s what this has all been about.” He’s really trying to sell it. 🤭 And I feel bad because Rick thinks he can turn to Pearl as a fellow A but again I’m convinced Pearl is more of a B with a decent enough poker face to try and pretend she's an A, and so she’s not exactly cut from the same cloth as Rick and his wife.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Pearl says, “He’s dead” and again Rick tries to get into his persuasive acting bag as he passionately says, “No he’s not. Because we’re here.” I love seeing him willing to say and do anything to ensure Michonne is protected. Also, it hit me that Rick is using Okafor to help his case in getting Pearl to protect Michonne - the very woman who had a hand in Okafor dying. Rick really said bump Okafor and everyone else when it comes to my wife. 💯

Pearl asks, “Are you here, Rick?” And I was like baby, Rick has never been more here because this is the Rick Grimes I know and love, fighting like hell to protect his family. 👌🏽 But then she clarifies what she means by asking, “Are you a part of this?” Rick looks at her and says, “I understand now. I told him just before.” And he’s able to look her in the eye saying that because it is true that Rick told Okafor he was in just before his wife showed up.

And then Rick looks down when he says, “You were right” because that’s the lie part of it. Pearl asks who brings Michonne/Dana along and Rick says she should because the CRM and Okafor trust her more than him. Pearl is still unsure so Rick says, “Look it took me a long time. You helped me. I’m here. She should be too.”

While I absolutely loved seeing the passion here from Rick I unfortunately cannot give him an A letter grade for his performance as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee lol. 😋

Like Rick had more energy in his behavior and urgency in his eyes than ever so he’s lucky Pearl didn’t pick up on it since she was still reeling from the Okafor loss and everything else going on. Otherwise, I just know she would've been closing her door like...

So while I thought he was being obvious, Rick did do a good enough job to convince Pearl to go along with his plan and stick her neck out for Michonne. So my baby Rick still gets at least a passing grade for his role as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee. 😌👏🏽

Rick returns to his apartment and we pick up where we left off from the end of episode 2. Jadis knows Rick well enough to know the way he’s looking at her in this apartment means he's got murder on his mind as she says, “You’re thinking about killing me.”

And then she receives a signature Rick Grimes threat as he says with all the certainty in the world, “I will. But not today.” 👌🏽 And Jadis, girl...

I just know Rick feels like Jadis is overdue to be taken out for playing in his face for years. And if now she at all thinks she's going to mess with Michonne - that makes her death sentence signed sealed and delivered in Rick's book. 

Rick tells her, “It’s funny. I see it. I feel it. Throwing away everything you made happen for yourself. Because you needed to get in the middle of something you have nothing to do with.” I love him saying this. Jadis has tried to throw herself in the mix of Richonne for years and I love that Rick is like 'bowl-cut, you do not need to factor into this equation at all.' And if she doesn’t stay in her lane he’s going to end her and everything she’s worked towards 

Jadis self-centered behind begs to differ saying, “I have everything to do with it. Our fates are bound. You, Michonne, Me.” And y’all, I just happened to pause the scene for a sec and it was on Rick’s face and the way he is looking at Jadis…truly if looks could kill Jadis would be a goner in that very moment. 😬 As Okafor learned, an adversary having Michonne’s name in their mouth is going to get Rick heated like no other.

Jadis explains that if Rick and Michonne were the first two people to ever leave then the CRM would never stop looking for them ever and since Jadis would know where they were she’d be the one to have to destroy ASZ. And again as Rick listens to this he’s so viscerally pissed off and I 1000% get it.

Jadis says she’d have to kill everyone to make sure their arrangement was never discovered and again this woman always acts in self-interest. Rick scowls as he tells her the gospel truth, “This was your mess. This is you. This is you.”

This is all Jadis's doing so she really needed to stop acting like there’s anyone else to blame. Jadis is approaching this as if Rick went out of his way to complicate things by coming to the CRM as an A when she’s the one who roped him into her lies.

It’s hard because as Rick says this you can tell he’s thinking about how so much of his pain and problems trace back to trifling Jadis, like since season 7. 😪

Jadis is still so smug as she tells Rick, “In the event of my untimely demise, I just put a little file among my possessions telling them everything they need to know about you and all the people that you love. And I imagine that a CRM reclamation team would have everybody that you love dead within hours of that file's receipt”

Okay, first of all - Jadis, you beast. 😠 But it is fitting that Jadis has factored in a plan based on Rick taking her out because at least she knows how likely it is that he’ll kill her.

Second of all, this woman is just so cruel. Like she knows Rick has people he loves, not just community members or travel companions but like family family and she’s still so callous and cold when threatening him and them.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Three; similar to the scene in ep 1 between Okafor and Rick when Rick realizes he really can’t risk going home anymore, this moment with Jadis is another one of those gut punches as he again realizes that he can’t break free with Michonne like he initially really hoped.

Like I truly think before this moment he did think he and Michonne would find a way out together but now he’s right back to feeling convinced that the CRM can’t be beaten and that he’s stuck here forever, which is why we see his mission change from getting them both out of here to just getting Michonne out of here. All that psychological warfare came right back to keep Rick in chains in this scene. 😢

As Jadis talks you can see it - you can see the hope Rick had of escaping with Michonne drain out. Before he was looking at Jadis angry and upset but upon hearing that their escape will get Michonne and their family killed he starts that labored breathing we’ll see much of the next episode, which is a clear indicator of his fear and panic.

Jadis says, “Because you and her leaving with the knowledge of that city and this force? You know that can’t be had.” I can’t believe Jadis is making me miss the days when she spoke in short broken sentences. Like plz...

It’s so hard seeing Rick look so distraught while he paces and gets sincerely emotional as the realization hits him that he might’ve just trapped his wife here along with him.

The way he walks toward the door then stops, it feels like he wants to sprint out of there and get to Michonne ASAP to wrap her in bubble wrap and shield her from everyone. Plus he needs the calmness Michonne provides back as he’s starting to unravel.

Then my heart always melts hearing Rick say with so much sincerity and emotion, “She doesn’t belong here.”

Again, this further cements that this has now become strictly a save-Michonne mission to him because he’s not making a case for the both of them, just her.

And the way he says it is just so extremely caring and protective. Like he is truly talking about his baby and feels utterly awful that Michonne is here because of him. 🥺

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It’s also sad that he only says Michonne doesn’t belong here because the CRM has convinced Rick that he is owned by them. And it’s like he’s accepting that harsh reality but still mustering the strength to at least argue that Michonne should not be stuck with the CRM like him. 

And then y’all, the line that’ll be having me want to swing every time is when Jadis responds to Rick’s heartfelt declaration about his wife not belonging here by saying in her best Karen voice, “Then she shouldn’t have come here.”

Like how much more patronizing and heartless can she be toward both Rick and Michonne. That line is gonna get me heated every time. 😑

Jadis says, “But that was her choice.” And you know hearing that hits Rick hard because he knows that it was not Michonne's choice but his that she’d come to the Civic Republic. Like Rick is already a man who feels so responsible for things and so you know he just feels responsible on another level for bringing her here knowing Michonne trusted to follow his lead. 

Jadis then asks Rick, “So what’s your choice?” And the way Rick looks at her I can literally hear the thought in his head - my wife is my choice. And while it will cause some issues, we do see him choose his wife in his actions that follow.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Also what is with this CRM and all their dang choices that aren’t choices. 🙄 Like they’re obsessed with referring to things as choices when they are choices people basically have to make at gunpoint.

Rick is quietly seething as Jadis asks, “Will you tell me that you will not try to leave again? If you try with her everyone back home dies.” I do like how at least Jadis knows Michonne being here means Rick definitely got some newfound hope of breaking out of this place after giving up on the idea for a year or so. She knows Michonne would give Rick a renewed sense of strength and motivation that could lead to the two actually successfully escaping. 

And then Rick just breaks my heart yet again as he so emotionally and earnestly asks,“Why? why?” And I have the same question. As well as wanting to ask Jadis...

I was watching this scene just thinking after everything Rick's done for this selfish woman, WHY can’t she just leave him alone? If anything, had they let Rick go home, I think at least for a while he really would have left the CRM alone.

But the CRM done messed up keeping Rick here so long that now his baddie A wife had to show up because Michonne is the one who would be of the mindset they have to teach the CRM a lesson and expose this 'last light of the world'.

Jadis answers that she’s doing all this because of the CRM’s value of “Security and secrecy above all.” And Rick reacts like 'oh brother, not this damn CRM motto again.' Or maybe that was a direct quote from my mind lol.

Jadis again as self-centered as ever says she will not jeopardize everything she’s made happen for herself. She says, “I won’t wait for them to find you and they will find you- and it’ll all blow back on me.” Again, Jadis...

Rick tries to reason with Jadis asking if there’s a deal to be made and if she can clean it up. Hearing that I was like - nawt us still having storylines of making deals with Jadis in 2024. 🙃 Like we needed to stop making deals with Jadis in 2017. The woman is a snake point-blank and so any deal with her is truly pointless.

Jadis says there’s no deal and then she notes that Michonne is “very very lucky” because the CRM suspects that she’s an A but still let her in because Pearl stepped up. Lol, I’m not at all surprised they got the sense that Dana was an A. I thought Michonne actually gave a decent B performance during the vetting process but still, she radiates A energy as other consignees will soon note.

Jadis asks if Rick was behind Pearl advocating for Michonne and when he’s silent Jadis is like “Wow. You pulled that off.” And then she again tries it to capacity when she tells Rick, “So have your life together here.” Wth, Jadis?? 😠 I know she knows good and well Rick and Michonne have a daughter at home so just how ridiculous can she be suggesting they should just leave Judith behind and build a life here. I’d say dpmo but...

Then Jadis has more CRM propaganda to spew as she says, “We’re the last light of the world.” But me personally, I give that description to the Grimes family. 👌🏽

Jadis then stands up and gets in Rick's personal space as she again asks, “What’s your choice?” Rick is teary-eyed as he knows his choice is made. If it comes down to having Michonne with him stuck here or getting her out safe and back to Judith - He’s choosing his wife and daughter every time.

As he looks down defeated Jadis says, “You know I don’t need to hear it.” And it’s interesting because this scene really does a good job of depicting the massive shift in Rick from when he entered the apartment to when Jadis leaves.

At the end of ep 2 when Jadis was in Rick’s face he was lethally staring her down but now when she’s in his face he hangs his head down, beaten down by her threats toward his family. 😢

Rick then says, “You didn’t threaten me or the people I love before when I told you I was gonna get away.” And I’ll say this, Pollyanna very much understood the assignment knowing how infuriating Jadis was meant to be because she again uses a tone that makes me irate as she just smugly tells Rick, “That’s cuz I knew you couldn’t.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Honestly, I see why Rick cherishes so much that Michonne believes in him because unfortunately, so many others underestimate him.

However, without his family by his side, Rick was in fact sadly made to feel like he couldn’t fend off the CRM’s oppression forever. 

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Rick asks, “What changed?” and Jadis turns around, sounding oddly enough like she’s a fellow Richonne stan, as she says, “You two together? You can do anything.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

It’s at least fitting that Jadis knows Rick and Michonne were going to try to be the first two to escape this place and that if anyone could pull it off they could. From the moment she met Richonne in season 7 she saw firsthand that they could do anything together.

And while dialogue-wise I think there perhaps could have been a way to say Richonne can do anything without saying it as on-the-nose, I don’t mind hearing it because it’s an utterly true statement. And I do like hearing this belief in Richonne’s abilities together even if it had to come from the most trifling of mouths.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I so badly wanted Rick to see that Jadis saying this is her basically admitting she’s scared of him and his wife together. But Rick is understandably scared that any of his next moves could get the woman he loves most harmed and so this moment with Jadis instead effectively deflates his hope of escaping with Michonne. Now Rick is determined simply to get Michonne out of here alive. 

Rick watches the door as Jadis exits and you can see in his face that there’s so much running through his mind. As much as he wants to believe that he and Michonne can do anything he’s also not willing to risk losing Michonne in the process of trying to escape together.

So by the end of this teaser - TOWL's lengthiest teaser, I believe - we know that this whole get-home thing just got a lot messier and a lot harder.

Going home is still the mission but thanks to the evil snake that is Jadis, the “together” part of “going home together” has now changed.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I called this post The Broken Bliss because Rick felt more hopeful than ever that this would be the time he finally broke out since now his wife is here, but then Jadis shattered the bliss he was trying to follow. 😞 And now when Rick thinks about his wife being here it strictly overwhelms him with fear. 

So with this teaser, we saw a very pivotal development for Rick, and next it was time for us to check in on Michonne. And now, y'all know Michonne has always been a true source of peace for Rick...but that Ms. Dana Bethune on the other hand - she's about to have this man stressing. 😅👌🏽

[mangoshorthand]

ugh, ok listen. its stupid and cheesy and overplayed but i love the caught under the mistletoe trope. its stupidly corny and as annoying as christmas is, my dumb ass falls for it everytime. you’re my favourite writer for five, and if you could write something for this (or hit me with a bat to improve my taste) that’d be rlly cool. if not, dw and happy holidays.

Stupid, cheesy and overplayed? You just described my entire body of work! I've struggled writing for a while so I hope people enjoy this. Merry Christmas, weirdos x

Twelve Feet Away From the Mistletoe | Five Hargreeves / F Reader 2.8k words

Viktor was a friend of a friend who gradually became your own. 

He was supportive when you lost your job in September, and was even more practical help when you lost your apartment around Halloween. 

“There are like forty spare bedrooms. Technically I can do what I like with six of those since I own a seventh of the house. Plus you wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. There’s like…so much room. 

“Viktor, that’s kind but I’ll be fine. My parents say -”

“Don’t your parents live outside the city?” he interrupted, “I think it would be easier to find work if you’re here.”

“Yeah, it would, but I can’t pay any rent.”

“I don’t want rent. Stay a few months. Be my guest. I could use someone to help me deal with my crazy family anyway. It’s weird being back in that house.”

And so, you’d accepted. It was hard to refuse Viktor anything. 

‘Crazy’ was one word to describe his family. ‘Volatile’, ‘noisy’ and ‘infuriating’ were some others. 

And none were more infuriating than Number Five. 

You met him the first night you stayed, while Viktor was thrashing you at pool as the pair of you got gradually drunker on Moscow Mules. You weren’t really enjoying the game, but you were enjoying hanging out with him, and you’d just mis-cued spectacularly as Five entered the room.

The first thing you noticed was his scowl. The second, third, fourth and fifth thing you noticed was his looks. 

Dark. Pale. Jaw a razor lined angle, nose long and imperious. He moved with quick, confident grace as he crossed the room. It was as if every thread of carpet his shoes touched had been waiting until that moment, just to pave his way, and now all other treads to come would be incidental to the floor’s true purpose. Hands thrust self-assuredly in his pockets, he seemed to look down on you as if from a great height, although he was barely an inch taller. 

Cold green eyes looked you up and down.  

He cut a fine figure, but an arrogant one. Despite his looks, your overriding impression was only of rudeness, so you met the challenge of his gaze unflinchingly. 

After a moment surveying you, he turned to Viktor.

“Luther’s looking for you.”

“Why?” Viktor asked.

“No idea. I’m not your secretary.”

As Five’s gaze shifted back to you, Viktor took the hint and introduced you.

“She’s a friend of mine,” he said, by way of explanation, “she’s lost her apartment so she’ll be staying for a while.”

Five sighed at this, shaking his head at you with a dark chuckle.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, politely. 

“No. No problem,” he said, though his tone making it clear that there was, “It’s only that I’ve seen this play out a dozen times: my brother has a habit of picking up waifs and strays.”

“Don’t be dickhead,” Viktor murmured.

Five shrugged, smirking.

“Letting me stay for a few weeks because we’re friends is hardly ‘picking me up’, you said, bristling, “I’m sure Viktor will ask for your opinion when he wants it.”

Five smiled that infuriating, sarcastic smile of his. Even then, when you were angry with him, looking into his eyes was an experience you noticed for the way it made your heart beat.

“I guess I’m just a little protective,” Five said, delicately, “I know how susceptible he is to a sob story."

He looked at you insolently for a beat longer before addressing his next words to Viktor.

"Don’t let her take advantage of you.”

“Come on, Five,” said Viktor, almost wearily, “I can decide who’s taking advantage for myself.”

Five scoffed, at this, expressing doubt as clearly as if he'd spoken it.

Stinging with the injustice of Five’s snap judgment and his infantilization of his brother, you ground your teeth. You knew Viktor had a tough time as ‘Number Seven’ (always being told he wasn’t good enough), and for a moment you thought you could see that in Five’s treatment of him.

“Your brother’s a grown man. So why don’t you fuck off and go back to torturing small mammals, planning your next school shooting or whatever your We Need to Talk About Kevin - looking ass likes to do?”

Five looked back at you, in slight surprise, studying your angry face. After a short moment, he gave a tiny shrug and made a small noise of assent.

Then, looking back at Viktor:

“Do you want Thai food later?”

When he was gone, Viktor assured you that you’d just made as good an impression as it was possible to make. 

You doubted this, however. Five rarely spoke to you beyond a good morning and a good night. He was polite, but nevertheless guarded. 

It was strange, on the few occasions he had deigned to strike up a conversation with you, he took two routes: he'd either draw you out for no reason other than to challenge you on your opinions, or else ask odd combinations of questions. There was nothing odd in themselves, but in aggregate they felt...strategic. He asked what you liked to do, whether you lived with a roommate or partner in your last place, how you and Viktor met, how well you knew each other…the list went on. 

Perhaps he was still scrutinizing you, ensuring that you weren’t trying to use his brother in any way. 

It stung to feel that he still suspected you when you’d done nothing but accept a friend’s offer of help, but you were soon able to put it from your mind in the wake of the enjoyment you got from staying there and hanging out with the rest of Viktor’s family. Over the few weeks you were there, you indulged Luther, chatted animatedly with Diego, and laughed with Klaus and Lila. 

But still, and despite his polite superciliousness, only the oldest brother drew your eye as soon as he entered any room.

He unnerved as well as attracted you. Sometimes, you thought you caught him watching you, peering over whatever book he was reading with a steady look of contemplation. As soon as you noticed it, however, you concluded it was probably just absent-mindedness: you found him staring into space or at one of siblings just as often. 

You found a new job by mid-November, but Viktor persuaded you to wait for your first month’s paycheck to come in before you put down a deposit on a new place, so when it came to your last night staying with them there were half-assed string lights and tinsel hung haphazardly around Hargreeves manor. 

Those on the tree and the fire crackling in the grate were the living room’s only light. In the flickering, warm glow, even Luther’s piss-poor attempt at decoration looked passable.

With Christmas music playing softly in the background, the booze had been flowing. Ill-advised mulled wine followed ill-advised eggnog followed ill-advised mimosas, leading Luther and Sloane to already stagger off to bed.

Sprawled on one of the couches, Viktor leaned towards you, lowering his voice so as not to be heard over the noise of Klaus and Diego arguing over who had most right to the final gingerbread man. 

“I'll miss you, but at least when you're gone Five's crush might calm down."

“What?” you asked, too quickly to pass off as true ignorance.

“Come on, he’s been staring at you for the past three weeks.” Viktor smiled, teasing in his tipsiness, I’ve never seen him like this,” he added, fondly.

“Yeah, whatever.” you said, brushing this off with a roll of your eyes, “If he’s been staring at me, it’s probably only because I piss him off more than anyone else in the room.”

“We all piss him off.” Viktor said, reasonably, “Everyone he likes pisses him off.”

You looked at him doubtfully.

“Pretty weird way to be.”

Viktor shrugged.

“Well, he's definitely interested. The other day he asked if there was anything between you and me. Why else would he ask me that?"

You looked at Five covertly from the corner of your eye.

“Probably just checking I’m not some gold-digger moving in on that sweet sweet Hargreeves dough.”

“I don’t think he cares about the Hargreeves dough,” Viktor replied. 

“Yeah, well,” you murmured, hoping that this would be the end of the conversation. 

But Viktor didn’t oblige you in this. The drink was making him uncharacteristically tenacious.

“He’s into you. I’m sure of it. So you don’t like him?”

You sighed deeply, your own mild intoxication making it harder to bullshit him.

“I’m not saying he isn’t hot,” (Viktor visibly cringed at this remark), “but why would I be into someone who looks at me like I’m a problem?”

“I think that’s just his face,” Viktor said, more uncertain now, “but I hear you.”

The conversation moved on, and you chatted with the family lazily as, one by one they all filtered off to bed. Soon, it was just you, Five and Viktor who, when you turned to look at him after Klaus’s departure, had fallen asleep on the couch. 

Five caught sight of this and let out a small laughing breath. At the sound, you caught his eye and smiled, sharing the moment of humor.

At this reception, he got slowly up from his armchair and moved over to your couch. His usually confident movements were smaller than usual. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was uncertain in this approach. 

“Too much eggnog,” you said, as he sat down, nodding at his snoring brother.

“Mhm.” Five agreed, “There’s not much of him and he’s no drinker.”

You fell back into silence. He was only a few inches from you now, and it was awkward; strangely awkward. you were just thinking how best to excuse yourself and whether you should wake Viktor, when Five spoke again. 

“So, you’re moving into your new place tomorrow?”

You cleared your throat. There should be nothing uncomfortable about this. This was just small-talk with your friend’s brother.

...Your friend's brother who apparently hated your guts yet had also appeared in your dreams virtually every night since you met him in varying states of undress.

Pulling yourself together, you turned to face him with a passable impression of ease. 

“Yeah. I’m all packed. The moving van will be here around 11.”

“Hm,” Five said.

It was a single syllable, yet its ambiguity in tone made you look at him more closely.

He noticed.

“Will you decorate the new place for christmas?” he asked, quickly.

“Probably not,” you said, trying to keep your tone conversational, “my parents are away this year so I’ll be doing Christmas alone. There’s no point in unpacking it all just to put it away again in a few days.”

Giving himself thinking time, Five shifted, letting out a little sigh as he repositioned himself. Holding his glass of whisky on his knee, he leaned back, resting his head against the couch cushions and watching you from beneath the dark hair now falling over his eyes. 

“That seems a shame,” he said, finally.

You shrugged, mirroring him unconsciously, leaning back against the cushions so that your faces were just over a foot apart

“There’s always next year.”

“You’d be welcome here.” he said, seriously, “It was nice having you for Thanksgiving.”

“I’d never assume Viktor would invite me.”

“But I’m inviting you.”

You looked at him with a confused expression, which he interpreted correctly:

“What? Is it too much to imagine I want you to be there?”

'Yes', you wanted to say.

“You called me a deluded hippy at Thanksgiving.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’re a progressive…an idealistic progressive.” 

He smiled, and your eyes flicked uncontrollably down to his lips. 

“And I only said that because you called me a fascist,” he continued, unaware of your unruly gaze flicking guiltily away from his mouth, “I know you weren’t being serious, but I don’t take that sort of accusation lightly.”

He responded to the question posed by your expression:

“I spent a lot of time in 1930s Munich. Not nice.”

You stole another glance at him and caught his grim face; handsome features clouded by too many dark memories.  

“I’m sorry,” you said, more softly than you’d ever spoken to him before. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, “I guess I’ve not given you the best impression.”

“No,” you said, disclaiming the idea unconvincingly, “it’s not exactly that…”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, and you chuckled slightly.

“Well, I got the impression you wouldn’t like me to come to another family celebration, anyway.”

“And now I want to correct that impression.” he said, seriously, “I’d like to spend christmas with you. With all of us, I mean.”

You’d been looking into his eyes for too long now, fine lashes framing them, his pupils blown in the low light. Somehow, those eyes always gave you the impression you were being assessed.

…And for the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps you were being assessed: just not in the way you’d assumed.

You blinked and looked down, though you didn’t move your head from beside his.

“Thanks Five,” you replied, after a silence of seconds that felt like minutes. “I’d like that.” 

He smiled again, the corners of his mouth just twitching. It was as if he was trying to conceal just how much you accepting his invitation meant, but the lines around his eyes betrayed him. As you smiled in return, he couldn’t contain it further, and those gorgeous lips broke into a genuine, unrestrained smile.

And somehow, over the course of the conversation, your heads had shifted to a distance of no more than six inches apart.

You could feel his exhales on your cheeks. 

“I heard you and Viktor talking tonight.” he said, voice low, “He’s right about me.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as he continued.

“I don’t think you’re a problem. Far from it, actually.”

“Oh,” you said. It was all you could say as he inched ever closer to you. 

You could have counted each of his eyelashes.

“And I also know that you think I’m hot,” he said, emphasizing the word with the ghost of his usual shit-eating grin back in his eyes, “so why not take the opportunity of being under the mistletoe and kiss me?”

You looked up to where he’d indicated. Across the room, above the fireplace, there was indeed a bunch of felt mistletoe, tied with a red, velvet bow: exactly the sort of decoration Luther would buy. 

“But we’re not under the mistletoe,” you said, hoping to give your racing mind and beating heart some time to take stock of this, “it’s twelve feet away.”

Five’s eyebrows twitched, and he looked quickly from you to the mistletoe and back again.

“Let me fix that,” he said, and suddenly your upper arms were caught in his grip.

Air crushed in on you as you both disappeared in a flash of blue, and then rushed away as you rematerialized beside the fireplace, mistletoe hanging overheard. You swayed from the surprise of unexpected teleportation, holding onto Five’s lapels for dear life as you tried to stay upright.

But his arms were around you, strong and solid. And his mouth was on yours, soft and yielding. You breathed his breath; tasted the sweet burn of scotch on his lips and felt yourself kissing him back, responding to a careful passion that you could sense might go further but for his self-restraint. 

His hands left your arms and came to cup your jaw, rising gooseflesh following the path of his fingers at the nape of your neck. You shivered at the sensation and deepened the kiss, your fingers automatically starting to gently tug into his soft, eucalyptus-smelling hair.

He made a low, appreciative sound against your lips but then, perhaps conscious of his brother sleeping on the couch, broke the kiss and stepped away.

You could do nothing but stand there: surprised, dazed, yet anxious to recapture his lips. The kiss had felt like one, shining, crystalline moment as it happened, but now it had already retreated too far over the horizon for you to stay satisfied.

You opened your mouth to say…you didn’t know what, but, grinning his infuriating grin, he held up a single finger to silence you.

“I'll see you on Christmas Eve. Stay a couple of nights.”

You nodded, mutely.

“It’s forecast to be cold though, so if you get cold in one of the spare bedrooms you could always-”

Now it was your turn to hold up a finger and silence him:

“Don’t ruin this with a crappy pickup line.”

He nodded sagely.

“Noted.” 

And with a small wink, he vanished in another of those blue flashes. 

Read part 2 >>

Request masterlist >> HERE

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance flicks on the lights and his soul damn near leaves his body.

“Jesus H. Christ one a one-wheeled motorbike, Pidge,” he gasps, hand pressed to his galloping heart. She doesn’t laugh — Pidge doesn’t laugh often — but Lance has learned to read her, in the year or so they’ve been in space. He recognises the twitch of her mouth, the flash in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your lock code is embarrassingly easy to guess,” she says in lieu of an answer. Lance smiles reflexively at the matter-of-fact, half chiding tone. He pulls finally away from the wall, having caught his breath, and starts rifling through his cabinet.

“Yeah?”

He hears the shuffle of blankets, the muffled hits on a pillow being shoved into a lap. When he glances out of the corner of his eyes, he finds her sat comfortably in the dead centre of his bed, criss-cross-applesauce, nails picking at the threads of his pillowcase and eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

“Yes. Fifty eighth most common four letter password.” She pauses a moment. “Spelling F-A-R-T with numbers is very immature.”

Lance snickers. He’d forgotten what his password spelt, he’s used the same combo so long. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You should come up with something more secure. It was my second guess.”

“What was the first?”

Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his curious look. Her eyes are focused on the items in his hands, watching diligently as he sits on the floor next to a dish of water, squeezing some soap into his hands and rubbing it all over his bare legs. Her head is tilted with a similar look of inquiry.

“Your birthday. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Lance removes the cap from his razor and starts to carefully drag it down his calfs, rinsing it every two strokes in the water. Pidge watches with rapt attention.

Weirdo, Lance thinks, fondly and hypocritically.

It doesn’t take long for the questions to start firing off.

“What’s the point of shaving your legs?”

“Gets rid of the hair.”

“Why do you want to get rid of the hair?”

Lance takes a moment to gather his thoughts, answering truthfully. “Lots of reasons. Not all of them I’m proud of. I started mostly ‘cause Veronica did it and I used to do everything she did.” He pauses. A sad smile pulls on his lips, and he swallows around the comfortingly familiar lump in his throat. “Well. ‘Used to’. If she was here I’d probably still be puttering around after her.” He finds Pidge’s eyes and smiles at her, winking. “Older siblings are easy to hang off of, huh?”

Her mouth twitches. She breaks eye contact, resting her chin on her knees and moving the pillow under her legs. “No. Older siblings are annoying. And ridiculous. I once followed Matt around all day and wrote down every single time he said ‘ow’. He said in on average twenty-three times an hour.” She meets his eyes again, mouth pinched and eyebrows raised. “Your average is twenty-four.”

“I see.”

“You should tie your shoes.”

“Nah.” He taps the razor on the side of the dish, gently sliding it to the other side of him and switching his razor to his left hand. “Anyways. When I was your age I mostly did it ‘cause Ronnie did it. Helped with swimming, too. But as I got older…” He frowns. “As I got older, I started feeling like I had to, I guess. Like I was ugly if I didn’t.”

A pinprick of pain makes his hand still, lifting the blade from around his ankle. A tiny drop of blood swells at the base of it. He sets the razor down, quickly grabbing a towel and dabbing at the nick. Ankle wounds always bleed so much — it doesn’t even hurt anymore, but he can’t pull the towel away or he’ll stain the floor.

“…Do you feel that way now?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment. He hears Pidge fidget, clicking her nails together. The blood finally slows enough for him to pull away the towel, and he resumes shaving the last half of his leg — much more slowly, this time.

“Not exactly,” he says carefully. “I recognize why I feel that way. I know where that pressure comes from, why it’s harmful. But it’s still…there. I still catch myself thinking cruel things; I have to spend a few minutes talking myself out of them. I tried stopping for about a year. I didn’t like it.”

He finally finishes swiping up the last line of soap, rinsing off his razor and then gently running a cold, wet cloth over his legs to get rid of any lingering suds.

“Do you think you’ll try to stop again?”

“Hm. I don’t think so. I like the feeling of smooth skin more than hairy skin, I’ve found. It’s nice on fresh sheets, plus sometimes hair tickles me and makes me jumpy. Plus, it’s easier to moisturize.”

“Ohhh,” Pidge says, and when Lance looks up there’s a real look of understanding on her face — not the practiced one she puts on when she doesn’t actually get something but doesn’t want to look dumb. “Like — it’s the same as why you don’t like jeans and socks.”

Lance smiles. “Exactly. I’d walk around in nothing but shorts and a big t-shirt, if I had the choice.” Legs clean and clean-shaven, he picks up his tube of lotion and starts dabbing dollops all over the skin. “That’s all I ever wore back home.”

“Arizona is freezing half the time!”

“Cuba,” Lance reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” she says again. “But what about when it rained?”

Lance shrugs. “Better to wear flip flops and get wet feet than wet socks. Wet socks are the worst.”

“Yeah.” She shudders. “Like prickly sweaters.”

He hums. The lotion smells like juniberries, which kind of smells like pineapple and hibiscus mixed with a strange, almost spicy scent. Not quite home, but close enough to be nice.

He doesn’t ask Pidge why she broke into his room while he was in the showers and sat in the dark waiting for him to get back. The same way he doesn’t press when she follows him down the halls, disappearing behind corners when he turns to look, or sits by his feet during movie night. He lets her be prickly with affection and learns to hear the undercurrent in her constant comments and rambles, learns to read her questions about every thing he does as curious rather than judgemental.

She would ice him out for weeks if he said it out loud, but there was this stray cat that lived near his house, when he was young. It hissed and spit and clawed if you came halfway near it; Mamá had forbidden him from trying in case it was sick. But he used to leave out water for it at night and sometimes even sneak Abuelo’s heating pad, and every once in a while it would let Lance sit near it without clawing him. Once it even attacked one of the older kids who used to chase him after school.

It’s no coincidence that Pidge always happens to be in the same room as him 90% of the time. Or that she can guess his passcode easily.

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he says, unwrapping the towel from his hair and starting to work in the leave in conditioner. “The lockcode on my snack drawer is the same as the room code. Just so you know.”

She stares at him for several minutes.

Her mouth twitches.

“I could have figured that out myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird.”

He smiles. “You too, nerd.”

[queer-n-here]

Heyy. Can you pretty please write for subby Akutagawa? I want to dominate him so bad /srs

(Your sigma one was awesome sauce btw👍)

Hi, you're my first request! Thanks for reading man, and ohhh, bro, I would die for subby Akutagwa. You didn't mention a lot of details, so I let my intuition lead me with this one, I hope you like it!

Content: You come home to Akutagawa trying to pretend his fingers are your cock, and long story short, you fuck him. (Established relationship)

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, ability user reader, degrading kink, and... I think that's about it?

Fem aligned and MDNI

Ryunoske Akutagawa was hanging on by a thread.

You two had been trying to find time for each other, but what with the number of assignments the Port Mafia threw at you two after the Guild incident, you barely had time to even look at each other's faces. It was frustrating, to say the least.

You'd come back late at night, exhausted and drained out, and just as you'd step into the house, Akutagawa would be hurrying to get out of it. A hurried kiss and 'Have a good day/night at work, love...' had been the only interaction between you two for the past whole month.

And it was starting to take its toll on Akutagawa.

You hadn't been intimate for a month. An entire month! How was Akutagawa supposed to deal with this type of separation when before this sudden rush hour (or rush month, really) you had showered him with your love? There had been a time when he could barely fall asleep without your arms around him, and now he couldn't remember the last time you two had cuddled.

It was so frustrating, Akutagawa almost threw a fit in Mori's face one day. But he held back, thinking of the future, and how things were bound to get better soon.

Now, however, Akutagawa felt that maybe he should have thrown a fit at Mori.

He was filled with pent-up frustration, and as much as he tried to focus on other things, he just couldn't stop thinking about you. Your voice, your calloused hands, the way you touched him, the way your hands knew almost automatically where to poke to make him throw his head back and call your name, his hips bucking into your han-

Akutagawa tried to pull his mind away from this line of thought, but it was impossible. Sighing, he slipped off his boxers, and turned to lay on his stomach.

This was the only way he could get release.

He coated his fingers with his own spit, and reached back to insert a finger into his achingly empty entrance.

It was a pathetic attempt, he knew. You knew his body so much better than himself. And he couldn't even reach back properly.

Still, he tried, rubbing his throbbing dick against the bed sheets to get a faster release. And that was how you found him. Rutting against the sheets with two of his digits in his hole, calling out your name as tears built in his eyes.

You had stepped into the house feeling cheerful, after all, you had managed to convince Mori to give the two of you a two-day long break. It wasn't much, but it was something you knew would bring a smile to Akutagawa's face.

Your expression had turned tense immediately, however, when you'd heard something like a whimper coming from your and Akutagawa's shared room. Was he hurt?

You had hurried across the house, throwing away your jacket and stumbling out of your shoes, calling your boyfriend's name with worry in your voice. You'd threw open the bedroom door, and stopped short at the sight before you.

What. The. Fuck.

When Akutagawa saw you, his eyes widened. He let out a yelp, and immediately, Rashoumon jumped out, creating a sphere of black cloth around him, preventing you from seeing him.

Still reeling from the surprise, you sighed.

"Ryu?" You said tentatively. "Baby, let me in."

There was some rustling, and you knew Akutagawa was hiding his face in the sheets.

"I'm gonna have to cut Rashoumon apart, baby..." You said, your voice gentle as you sat down on the part of the bed Akutagawa's ability hadn't enveloped. "And you know I can do that."

There was a pause, and then Rashoumon retreated to reveal a flushed Akutagawa who had pulled up the bed sheets to his chin, his eyes glued to the wall three feet on the left of your head.

"It wasn't a weird thing to do, alright?" He said before you could open your mouth to speak. "I just... I just got kind of d-desperate. And I mean, we haven't been intimate for weeks, so-"

"I never said it was," You cut him off, and he looked at you. "But now I'm home, and we have time, so let me take care of you, hmm?"

Akutagwa turned to look at the clock.

"It's not time for you to be back home yet," He stated dully, and you chuckled.

"No, it's not," You reached out, taking the sheets from Akutagawa's hands and gently lowering them. "I got Mori to give us a forty-eight-hour break."

His eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "And I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie, or go on a date... But who would've though that I'd come home to you touching yourself and calling my name?"

He flushed again, and made as if to hide in the sheets one more time, but you were faster.

You ripped the sheets off of him, leaving his bare pale body exposed. Before he could react, you had pressed him back down on the bed, one hand supporting your weight beside his head, and the other at his waist.

"Come to think of it, it HAS been a long time since we had sex, right Ryu?" You smirked.

Akutagwa's breath hitched at the sudden change of your tone, and he nodded.

You lowered your head, placing your lips on his as his hands rose to clutch the fabric of your shirt. You kissed him passionately, nibbling and biting and sucking to your heart's content till you couldn't take it anymore, till you could feel the tent in your pants grow unbearable.

You pushed off of him, using your ability to strip in a millisecond, and turned Akutagawa around to make him lay on his stomach, just the way you'd found him.

He'd prepped himself well, and his arousal was such that his hole was opening and closing like a breathless fish, begging to be filled and abused to your liking.

You placed your tip against his entrance, planting a small kiss between his shoulder blades as you entered. He twitched beneath you, his fingers clenching around the sheets beneath him as he buried his head into them to muffle the sounds that he knew he would make soon.

When you had entered fully, you gave him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being stuffed full of your cock.

"Ryu, baby," You whispered, your breath warm on his neck. "It's kind of disobedient of you, isn't it, to do something like behind my back?"

"What do you- Mmph!" You pulled back and thrusted the very moment Akutagwa opened his mouth to speak.

"You could have waited," You said, as your hips rolled further into his, making him moan lewdly. "You could have been good and waited. But I bet you couldn't handle the feeling of not being stuffed full for a minute. I should be grateful you held on for a month."

Your thrusts sped up slowly, gaining a rhythm as you fucked Akutagawa into the sheets, making him push his hips back to meet you half-way.

"How slutty," You sneered, pounding into him as if it were your last day on earth. "Couldn't have held back till I came home, hmm? Such a pretty little whore."

Akutagawa bit down into the sheets, unsuccessfully trying to muffle his whimpers at your words. You grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, making him scream as your thrusts hit a certain place.

"But I bet you couldn't find that spot in you, right?" You shifted to hit it again, making Akutagawa thrash around in your grip. "That one that makes you see stars..."

You hit his prostrate again and again, making him clench pathetically around your fat cock. You chuckled, using your more force to ram into his ass.

"Wai..." Akutagawa panted, his brain foggy and barely able to form words at that amazing feel of you fucking him like he was just a hole. "I couldn't.... Nhh, ah! I c-couldn't help it."

"Of course you couldn't," You leered. "True nature is always hard to hide. A slut through and through aren't you?"

Akutagawa whined, nodding his head erratically like a dumb cock-drunk whore. "Just yours... Only yours"

"That's right," You thrusted faster, almost dislocating your hips in that chase of pleasure. "My dumb slut. My pretty little cocksleeve."

That alone was too much for him, and he squirted onto the bed sheets with a loud cry of your name. You let go of his hair as he tightened around your dick, and he collapsed, his body limp even when you turned him around to look at his beautiful fucked-out expression.

"A slut that can't even do his job right." You spat, entering him again, making writhe under you, clutching your arms without any force in his fingers.

"[Name]!" He blubbered. "I just came, I just..."

But you weren't going to listen, continuing your abuse of his lewd hole as you degraded him more, making him whine and sob from the over stimulation.

"Tell me," You panted. "Could you have cum so quick just from your own two fingers? Could you have made yourself feel as good as I can?"

Akutagawa shook his head, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. "F-Feels so good...Nghh!"

You felt heat pooling into your stomach, your throbbing dick loaded and ready to release into the man beneath you. You sped up sloppily, making him throw his head back and arch his body.

"Do you deserve my cum, Ryu?" You panted, your hips bludgeoning into him. "Do you deserve to be released in?"

He nodded frantically, his poor brain barely able to comprehend anything that wasn't your cock and your strong hands holding him place. "I-I do! Please, [Name], please. Cum in me, I'll be good, I'll-"

And so you released, using the last of your power to hit his sweet spot a few more times, and just that was enough to make him squirt a second time, his used hole milking your cock as ropes of white fluid shot out of his own dick.

You collapsed beside Akutagawa, panting as you turned your head to look at your boyfriend. On his waist were red hand prints, and his ass was still leaking your cum. His closed eyes were underlined with tears, and his entire face was covered in them. You couldn't help but smirk.

"Such a pretty boy..." You murmured, and Akutagwa smiled faintly.