#how far can i rise the rising action. that is the question

[appalachianapologies]

Remittent Distress

Chapter Nine: Intractable

Chapter Summary: Everything comes to a heed at Mission City. Mac is living through his worst nightmare. For Dalton, it's a nightmare that he's already had once before. Fic Summary: After years of being on the run and keeping his head down, Mac finally receives the opportunity to end this screwed up game of hide-and-seek for good. With the help of two unlikely friends, some unconventional skill sets, and plenty of all-nighters, Mac attempts to track down his father before James gets to him first. It's been six months since an ordinary mission turned to hell, leaving its permanent marks on Jack Dalton—both physically and emotionally. But when information about a wild kid he came across four months ago gets dropped into his lap, he has to push it all down in order to find not just the kid, but the truth behind him as well.

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[purinfelix]

FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

[lomlhwa]

audio (c.jh)

pairing: bf!jongho x s/o!reader

preview: jongho thinks he can randomly send you a whimper audio with no repercussions. well, he's wrong.

tags/warnings: gender neutral reader (no gender specifications), handjob, begging, mentions of whimper audios, apologizing, edging

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.5k

song rec for this fic: desire by ateez

a/n: did you miss me

your phone dings with a text from your boyfriend. you stare at your phone before answering it. 

you: what did you send me?

he chuckled at your question. 

jongho: open it and find out!

you hit the play button hesitantly. your room fills with the sound of him moaning. your face heats up and your thighs clench. the wet sounds of him fucking his fist have you drooling. he whines your name, his voice hoarse.

jongho: do you like it?

you press your lips into a thin line. you debate how to respond for a moment.

you: come over. now. 

he can't resist the urgency in your text and immediately stands up.

jongho: okay, okay! i’m on my way!

he grabs his jacket and heads out the door, his heart racing with anticipation. jongho arrives at your house a few minutes later, slightly out of breath from running. he knocks on the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

you open the door and grab him. you slam the door, shoving him against the wall. he gasps as you grab him and push him against the wall, his back hitting the hard surface with a thud. jongho looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire in his eyes.

“woah, someone's feeling feisty today.”

he says with a smirk, trying to act nonchalant despite the obvious effect you have on him. you glare at him.

his smirk falters a bit as he sees the intensity in your glare. he gulps and swallows hard, trying to keep his cool, but his body betrays him, shivering slightly under your gaze.

"uh...is everything okay?"

"you think you can send me a whimper audio and get away with it?" you stare at him.

jongho’s face flushes red as you call him out on his actions. he tries to maintain his composure, but his blush gives him away.

"i...uh… i just wanted to tease you a little."

he admits sheepishly, averting his gaze. you grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you. "yeah? you’re teasing?”

he shivers again as you grab his jaw and force him to look into your eyes. he feels his heart racing even faster now, his breath hitching in his throat.

"y-yes.” he stammers, his voice trembling slightly. he can't deny it anymore, the way you're handling him is driving him crazy.

"come with me." you let go of him, storming off to your room. he quickly follows you, his mind reeling from the interaction so far. jongho enters your room and closes the door behind him, his eyes darting around the room before landing back on you.

"what are we doing?" he asks, his voice still a bit shaky.

"lay down.” he raises an eyebrow at your command, but he complies without question.

he walks over to your bed and lies down on his back, looking up at you expectantly. you crawl over him, sitting on his legs. your hands rest on his waistband.

his breath hitches again as you straddle him. he looks up at you with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, his body tensing under your touch.

"y/n..."

jongho whines your name, his voice barely above a whisper.

"i'm gonna touch you until you whimper like you did in that recording.”

his eyes widen in surprise at your declaration, but he can't deny the excitement that's building inside him. he bites his lip, trying to hold back any sounds that might escape him, but he knows it's only a matter of time before he loses control.

"y-you're going to tease me like that?" he asks, his voice shaky with a hint of desperation. you tug on his pants and boxers until they sit on his thighs.

"yes, and you're gonna love it.”

his face turns even redder as you pull his pants down, revealing more of his skin. he can feel the heat rising between you, and he can't help but arch his back slightly in response to your touch.

"ah...please..." he moans softly, unable to hide his arousal any longer.

you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing the base. he lets out a loud whimper as you grab him, his hips bucking up involuntarily. he grips the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

"oh god..." he gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as pleasure courses through him.

"better start whimpering or i won't let you cum.” your hand moves quickly, jerking him off.

his mind is a mess of sensations, overwhelmed by the feeling of your hand on him and your words. he tries to hold back his whimpers, but the more you touch him, the harder it becomes.

"n-no, please… i need to cum..." he begs, his voice breaking as he struggles to form coherent sentences.

"yeah? is this what you were doing when you were recording? imagining my hand?” your hand moves quickly, stroking him at a pace that has his eyes crossing.

he nods frantically, his body trembling with need. he can barely speak, but he manages to say, “yes… i was thinking of you… thinking of you touching me just like this..."

"did you cum thinking about me?"

he looks up at you with pleading eyes, his expression filled with shame and desire. "y-yes, i did… i came while thinking about you..." he admits, his voice cracking as he confesses his secret.

you feel him twitch in your hand and stop all your movements. "you can't cum yet.” you watch his cock twitch, the tip red and angry with need.

he whines loudly when you stop, his body shaking with intense desire. he feels like he's going to explode, but he knows he has to obey you.

"no, no, please… i can't take it anymore!" he cries out, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes from the intense frustration.

you shake your head. "only good boys get to cum. and you haven't been very good.”

his expression turns to one of disappointment, but also determination. he knows he has to earn your approval if he wants to reach his climax.

"i-i'll be good, i promise! i'll do anything you say, just please let me cum..." he pleads desperately, his voice filled with desire.

"apologize for teasing me like that over the phone." you grip his cock harshly again.

he winces in pain as you grip him tighter, but he quickly composes himself. “i'm sorry! i'm so sorry for teasing you! i shouldn't have sent that audio without your permission. please forgive me, i won't do it again." he apologizes sincerely, looking up at you with remorseful eyes.

"more." you give him another harsh tug. he gasps at the tug, his body jolting forward.

"i’m really sorry! i was stupid and insensitive. i didn't think about how it would make you feel. i promise i’ll be more considerate of your feelings in the future. please, i need to cum so badly, i need your forgiveness..."

he begs again, tears streaming down his face now. you move your hand quickly again, smirking.

"cum.”

he finally lets go, his body convulsing as he reaches his climax. he cries out your name, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his orgasm.

"y/n! oh god, y/n..."

he collapses against the bed, completely spent and exhausted. his chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.

you watch as his cum lands on his shirt and your hand. you bring your hand to your mouth, licking it clean.

he watches you with half-lidded eyes, his breathing slowing down as he recovers from his orgasm. he sees you lick your hand and a weak smile appears on his face.

“you're...so cruel…” he murmurs, his voice weak but playful. you roll your eyes, glaring at him.

"says the one who sent a whimper audio with no warning.”

he chuckles weakly, knowing he's in no position to argue. “fair enough… i deserved that."

he sighs and looks up at you with a mix of affection and guilt. “im sorry again. i won't ever make that mistake again, i swear.”

"i'm not actually mad. i enjoyed it.”

he raises an eyebrow, a bit surprised by your confession. “really? you enjoyed teasing me and making me beg?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone. he sits up slowly, still feeling a bit weak.

“i think it's cute when you can't control yourself.”

he blushes at your words, a small pout on his lips. “you think it's cute when i'm a mess like this?" he glances down at the mess on his shirt and grimaces slightly.

"maybe next time i should make you call me master or something." you smirk. his eyes widen in shock and his blush deepens even more. he looks up at you with a mix of horror and intrigue.

"y-you can't be serious..." he stutters, unable to believe what he just heard.

“we'll see.”

© lomlhwa 2025

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they are insanely obsessed with you

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ yandere!bsd men! dazai , fyodor , chuuya

It started small, almost imperceptible. The people who once filled your life—the casual friends, the familiar faces—began to drift away. A canceled plan here, an unanswered text there. At first, you brushed it off as coincidence, the natural ebb and flow of relationships. But then, one by one, the spaces in your life grew emptier, and the only constant that remained was him.

Dazai’s touch in your life was invisible to you but deliberate to him, every thread meticulously pulled to tighten the cocoon he was weaving around you. He told himself it was for love—for your protection. He convinced himself that each person he removed, each tie he severed, was another weight lifted from your fragile existence.

This man made it so easy, so seamless. A quiet word to Kunikida about how overworked you seemed lately, how you needed less responsibility and more time to rest. A subtle comment to Atsushi about giving you space because “too many people leaning on her might overwhelm her.” Even Yosano found herself discouraged from dragging you into her office for her usual banter, all because Dazai planted doubts in her mind about your health, your fragility.

When he intercepted the letter from an old friend of yours, he told himself it was love, tucking it into his desk drawer instead of giving it to you. He told himself it was love when he manipulated missions so that you were always with him, never with anyone else, where he could watch over you, shield you.

Every step he took, every string he pulled, was justified in his mind. “The world is cruel,” he would tell himself, pacing the confines of his apartment, his hands trembling with the intensity of his convictions. “But I can keep her safe. I can keep her happy. Isn’t that love?”

And when doubts crept in—when the hollow echo of your laughter, now rarer and more subdued, made him pause—he buried them deep. You needed him. You might not see it yet, but you did. The thought reassured him, soothed him, even as he sat alone in the dark, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his chest.

Of course, he never questioned the morality of it since morality had never been part of his equation. The lines between right and wrong blurred the moment he decided he couldn’t lose you, couldn’t bear the thought of anyone or anything stealing you away.

Every time he looked at you, he reassured himself while his gaze lingered far too long, drinking in the sight of you like a man drowning. He told himself it was love when he watched you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your breath calming the storm in his chest, it was love when he saw the way you smiled at him, even if that smile didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. It must have been.

Still, there were moments—fleeting, fragile moments—when his mask cracked. Late at night, as he sat in his chair with a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, he would wonder if this was love or obsession. He would remember Oda’s words, that love should be selfless, freeing, not this suffocating, consuming thing. But then he would think of you in the arms of someone else, laughing with someone else, and the thought alone was enough to make his blood turn cold. “It’s love,” he would whisper to himself, his voice hollow, his fingers curling tightly around the glass. “It has to be.”

„You are sick,” you whispered when you finally confronted him, the room drawing shadows heavier than the ones in his soul, though the words lacked the venom you intended. “This isn’t love. It’s control. It’s—it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and heartbreak, as though the very notion pained him. “Tell me, does the bird hate its cage when it keeps it from predators? Does it curse the one who feeds it, protects it, cherishes it?”

Like a pang of doubt that rippled through your resolve, the analogy struck something deep within you. He stepped closer still, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m doing this for you,” he said, and there was something almost mournful in his tone, as though he regretted your inability to see things his way. “You’re too precious to be left at the mercy of the world. I won’t let it destroy you. I won’t let anyone destroy you. Even if it means you hate me for it.”

Although you wanted to fight back, to scream, to push him away, the weight of his words pressed against you, leaving you vulnerable and unsure. He had always been good with words—too good—and now they tangled in your mind like webs, trapping you in the complexity of his logic.

Yet the longer you stood there, the more the fight drained out of you. Maybe it was the exhaustion of always doubting, always questioning. Or maybe it was the quiet, insidious truth that a part of you didn’t want to leave him. He had taken so much from you, but he had also filled the void in ways you couldn’t explain, couldn’t deny.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and what you saw there wasn’t triumph—it was devotion. Twisted, unrelenting, suffocating devotion.

“I love you,” he said simply, and the words felt like both a confession and a death sentence.

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

Sad, almost wistful, he smiled as though he had anticipated your answer. “You will,” he said. “In time, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly cares for you. And when you do, I’ll be here. Always.”

And though every fiber of your being told you to run, you stayed. Because the truth was, as terrifying as his love was, the thought of being without it scared you even more.

Deeply so, this break had shattered something inside Chuuya. It wasn’t just the loss of a partner, a comrade—no, it was something deeper, more primal. The day Dazai left was the day the world tilted, the day his mind fractured in ways even he couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t just about losing Dazai—it was about the fear of losing someone else, losing anyone else. That gnawing, desperate hunger to keep you close, to shield you from everything, to keep you from slipping through his fingers like Dazai had.

Naturally, he did what he had to do.

Once a space of normality, your room, was now a carefully constructed fortress. The curtains were always drawn, a soft, dim light casting everything in a sickly shade. He would stand outside your door for hours, listening for any sound, any sign that you were still there, still within his grasp. He had the ability to make his presence felt even when he wasn’t physically near you—his shadow stretching across your life, always lurking. Always watching.

When you woke in the mornings, he was there. When you went to sleep at night, he was still there, seated in the corner of your room, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze never leaving you.

The mafia executive wasn’t cruel. No, not at first. His charm, his words, they were as sweet as they were deadly. “I’m only doing this for us,” he would say, his voice warm, almost affectionate. He’d smile, but it never reached his eyes. “No one will hurt you. Not like they hurt me.”

He’d coax you into talking, into laughing, into behaving. His hands were gentle at first, trailing across your skin, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were, how precious you were, how lucky he was to have you all to himself. But every compliment, every touch, had an underlying current of control, an unspoken warning that you could never escape.

The world outside was no longer yours to navigate. No, Chuuya had made sure of that. You rarely left his quarters now—only when he deemed it necessary. Even then, he would accompany you, his eyes always watching. His influence reached deep into the Mafia, cutting off connections before they even had a chance to form. If you met with someone outside of his approval, they were gone. If anyone, anyone, even thought of stepping too close to you, they found themselves dealt with in ways you never saw coming.

With you no longer being free to come and go as you pleased, your missions were reduced, controlled, and carefully managed. No one would dare take you away from him. They knew what would happen if they did. Chuuya had made his message clear—you were his.

And yet, when you complied, when you didn’t resist, when you behaved, he was charming, attentive, a lover in every sense of the word. He’d lavish you with gifts, with praise, with everything you wanted and needed, until you almost forgot the trap that had closed around you. The sweetness of his attention almost made you believe that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the way things were meant to be. That maybe the way he looked at you—like a rare, priceless gem—was the way love was supposed to feel.

Yet when you didn’t behave—when you pushed, even slightly, when you questioned him or tried to leave—that’s when the change came. The door would slam shut behind you, his smile would vanish and he charming words would turn into cold, clipped sentences.

“Don’t make me remind you who’s in charge here.” His voice would be low, but there was no kindness left in it. Only an edge, sharp and unforgiving. When you would try to retreat, to hide from him, he would follow you—always.

“I’m not letting you leave,” he’d whisper in the dark, his breath warm against your neck, a cruel contrast to the steel in his tone. “Not again. I can’t lose you too.”

And then, there was that shift—like something snapping—in the way he moved, in the way he held you. He would pull you to him with such force that it almost hurt, his hands trembling, but only in that moment, when he feared losing you. His kisses would be hungry, demanding, as if trying to make up for everything he had already lost. His hands would grip your arms, your wrists, too tightly, as if afraid that you might disappear right in front of him.

“You’ll never leave me,” he would say, as much a promise as a threat. “I can’t lose you like I lost him. You understand that, don’t you?”

And in those moments, you could see it—the desperation behind his eyes. The way his usual smug demeanor broke down into something raw, something fragile. His need for control was no longer subtle—it was desperate, suffocating. Every time you tried to move away, to regain the smallest piece of freedom, he would pull you closer, until your world was nothing but him.

“Please,” you whispered once, “Chuuya, this isn’t love. It’s obsession.”

An empty smile formed on his lips. “Isn’t it the same thing, in the end? You and me… I can’t let you go. Not again. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. No one can take you from me, not ever again.”

And when you didn’t respond, when the hopelessness in your eyes spoke louder than words, he would close the distance, his hands gentle again—though his eyes remained cold, unyielding.

The charm was back, for now. But the coldness, the possessiveness, lingered beneath the surface, always. Because Chuuya had seen what happened when you slipped away from him before, and he would never make that mistake again.

You were his now, and he was never going to let you forget it.

It began so slowly, you didn’t notice at first. People started to slip from your life, fading like mist, until one day, you looked around and realized the room felt quieter than it ever had before. Your friends, the ones who had once made you laugh, once filled your life with noise and warmth, were no longer around. Their texts became less frequent, the calls abandoned, the invitations to dinner or even simple catch-ups slowly turning into hollow echoes of what they once were.

At first, you reasoned with yourself. People get busy. Life shifts. Maybe they just didn’t need you anymore, just as you had begun to doubt the sincerity of some relationships in your own life. But as time passed, you began to notice one constant that remained, like a shadow that stretched across your world—Fyodor Dostoevsky: The man who was always there, always watching, always waiting. The more others drifted away, the closer he became, until it felt almost like a necessity. He would always ask how you were, but the words felt laced with something more, as if he already knew, already understood. Perhaps that’s why, despite the growing isolation, you didn’t push him away. Because, in truth, he was the only one who seemed to see you, the only one who seemed to understand what you were feeling, even when you didn’t know yourself.

Yet when the silence grew louder, the empty spaces between texts grew wider, Fyodor’s presence was a gentle murmur, his soft gaze reassuring in its subtle way. He didn’t say much, but he was always there, sitting across from you, those dark eyes watching, studying you like a puzzle he had already solved. His proximity became an anchor, even if you weren’t sure why you needed it.

“You are the only one who understands me,” you’d hear him whisper sometimes, his voice so soft it felt like an incantation, a fragile truth you never quite dared to speak.

While you told yourself that you understood, too, you saw his world, too. You recognized his loneliness. His isolation. His need to control everything, to manipulate the chaos that surrounded him, to shape reality the way he wanted. You understood because, in some twisted way, his isolation mirrored yours. You, too, had been abandoned by those who once mattered. You, too, had felt the creeping emptiness, the quiet desolation that threatened to swallow you whole.

But what did it mean when Fyodor told you, “You are the only one who understands me”? Was it love? Was it genuine, or just another manipulation, another carefully spun thread designed to pull you deeper into his world, a world that you felt, over time, was slowly becoming your own?

He never had to make grand declarations. He really didn’t need to. His quiet, constant presence was enough. Each time you looked at him, you could see the way he measured every moment, every glance, the way he waited for you to take the first step. He made you feel special, in a way that was both intoxicating and suffocating. When he touched you—just a brush of his fingers against yours, a fleeting, lingering gaze—you didn’t pull away. How could you? You wanted to be close to him. But the closer you got, the more you wondered if this was how it was always meant to be: your life, your entire existence, distilled into this quiet, almost oppressive bond between the two of you.

Though few, his words were always chosen with care. “The world is a cruel place,” he would murmur, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he leaned in closer, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But I would never abandon you like the others have. I know you better than they ever could.” His smile was slight, almost imperceptible, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart skip.

As you stopped questioning him, the isolation, the growing distance from everyone else, felt inevitable, like the natural progression of your life. With each subtle shift, you found that the empty spaces filled with him, and his smile, cold and calculated, became all you had. When your phone rang now, it was always Fyodor. When someone else tried to reach out, you would hesitate, knowing it was only him who could make you feel understood, make you feel like you mattered.

And yet, there were nights—long, lonely nights—when you would wonder. You would sit in the dim light of your apartment, staring at the reflection in the window, and ask yourself if this was really what you wanted.

But those doubts never lasted long. Fyodor was always there, always beside you, his presence so unyielding that even when you wanted to scream, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t.

“You don’t need them,” he would say, his voice soft as he stood behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Not when you have me.”

There was comfort in those words. There was safety. Protection. And the longer you stayed, the more the world outside seemed distant, irrelevant. No one else could give you this, no one else could fill the silence like he could.

“You’re the only one who truly understands me,” he repeated one night, his words low, heavy, as his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you into him. There was something cold in the way he said it, but it wasn’t unkind. It wasn’t harsh.

Wanting to argue, wanting to tell him that he was wrong, that this wasn’t how love worked, you hesitated because, in that moment, you realized with a terrible clarity that you, too, didn’t know what love was anymore. All you knew was him. All you knew was this dark, quiet world he had created, a world where you were his and no one else’s.

Deep down, unraveling in that place you didn’t want to acknowledge, you understood. He was right. No one else understood you the way he did. No one else saw the loneliness in you, the one that he so carefully nurtured. You were his. And he was yours.

There was no escape anymore. Only him. Only his presence.

And so, with a quiet surrender, you accepted it. Because, after all, you told yourself, he was the only one who understood you.

hello a/n i went partially insane with chuuyas part … hehe ??

[pinkmirth]

❤︎ ⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𝒞𝐻ℰ𝑅𝑅𝒴-𝒫𝐼𝒞𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢!

𝒮𝑌𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 ⨾ a little looksie into the castlevania men and their particular preferences . . . aka, the unavoidable “ass or tits” question!

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 800+ words of . . . ) multi!castlevania men x fem!reader (black coded); adrian ‘alucard’ tepes, trevor belmont, richter belmont, isaac laforeze, hector forgemaster, count olrox, mizrak, & vlad ‘dracula’ tepes; missionary, doggy, mutual masturbation, thigh-fucking, bdsm (spanking), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸ℛ! ⨾ yes, i am being trivial and shallow because it’s fun & that’s a good enough reason! inspired by this post here; i just had to whip up something for our favorite wallachian men >.< please enjoy, and thanks for reading! 🎀

𝒜𝐿𝑈𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒟!

it’s far too obvious, i think; but he loves. him. some. boobies! adrian’s a tits man through and through, even if he’s got too much decorum to admit it. his actions say it all, though— he loves to lick them, knead them, tease your nipples with his teeth, rest his head between them, gently cup either one whenever he’s embracing you from behind . . . he’ll even motorboat them if he’s feeling naughtier than usual. now, that’s all out of pure habit. intimately, though? slotting his twitchy cock between your boobs is surely his favorite; and then there’s those times when he’s got you laid upon your back while he's situated between your spread legs, fucking into you from above. his cold palms lie at your waist, grip going tight whenever you squeeze around his pulsing dick, and his golden eyes are glued to your breasts like it’s all they’re good for. the way they bounce and jiggle with his pace is nothing short of mesmerizing. coming all over them in the end will make him lose his fucking head. whether it’s an unaddressed mommy kink or otherwise, he just can’t get enough of you (and the girls!) let him suck your titties and his entire day is made.

𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒱𝑂𝑅!

ass. completely, absolutely, undeniably, ass. he’ll smack it, eat it, grope it, anything. trevor pinches your butt whenever he wants to get a rise out of you, just to see how much you’ll blow up at him. (so what he finds it cute, sue him!) and, smacks at it whenever you’re feeding him an attitude. if he starts grabbing at it with rough palms, you already know what he wants; to fuck your shit up. unexpectedly, doggy’s the first position he’ll think to fold you into once you reach that bed. trevor curves over your arched frame, grinning at the ripple of your asscheeks against his pelvis. he’ll spit pure fucking venom into your ear while you take him. seals it off with coating your plump, pretty ass with his seed. the happiest man alive, he now is.

𝑅𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒯𝐸𝑅!

both! there are men out there who simply can’t bring themselves to choose, because both are far too precious; and richie’s one of them. how could you even expect him to pick? both parts of you are so soft, round, and feminine . . . if you allow him to get his hands on either, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. this belmont’s skilled with his hands, might i add; his breast massages make you slump into him whine for more, and spankings don’t even feel like a punishment with him. as long as he can kiss down your body, mark the canvas of your flesh, and caress anything you’ve got in a pair of two, rich’s all yours.

𝐼𝒮𝒜𝒜𝒞!

thighs! it isn’t exactly a given option, but then again, this man isn't like the others. he loves the fullness of them, how warm to the touch they are whenever he rests a hand at your lap, and finds them to be the greatest pillow the entire world could offer. you stroking at his smooth scalp while he nudges his face into your thighs is his idea of paradise. speaking of, this man is king of thigh-fucking!!!! slots his cock in between the warmth of your inner thighs, urges you to keep them closed tight, and makes a mess of them by the time he’s done. his cum releases in streams, and spurts out to drip down your lap. but don’t worry, his tongue’s already out; as a gentleman, isaac always makes sure to clean up his messes.

𝐻𝐸𝒞𝒯𝒪ℛ!

tits! they’re perfectly squishy, which helps considering that he’s got loads of stress to rid himself of. one-finger less isn’t stopping him from giving the girls their much deserved attention! he’s slipping under your bra, brushing past your nipples, and kneading the mounds like he’s got nothing better to do. you know what’s his favorite thing to do with you and the girls? having you on your back with him kneeling above you, desperately tugging at his cock right before your face. you bring a hand down to swipe at your clit and match his pace; god, he swears you’re drooling. you suckle at his tip, and it’s enough stimulation to bring him to his peak. he’s then cumming all over your chest, some reaching your spit-streaked lips. has he ever mentioned how beautiful you look this way?

𝐵𝒪𝒩𝒰𝒮!

dracula simply adores thighs! a man of culture, this one is. as for olrox, he loves him some (man) titties. a nice, broad and firm chest is enough to put a smile on his face and a tent in his pants. then there’s mizrak, the ass-lover. grabbing it is his favorite past-time >.<

© 𝒫𝐼𝒩𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! 𝜗𝜚

[wokeupinmars]

The Last Time

Summary: Peter's on the verge of losing you after disappointing you yet again.

masterlist

He didn’t show, the night was over and Peter was nowhere to be found. 

You tried your best to mask your disappointment with a tall face as all the attendees started to trickle out of your college’s art exhibit, a handful of them congratulating and complimenting you on your artwork as they passed you. 

It wasn't until you saw May walking towards you with a sympathetic look on her face that you felt your facade falter, “I’m so sorry darling,” she said as she brought you into a hug squeezing you. 

“It’s fine, May. Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” You give her a sad smile pulling away from her. You take a deep breath, “May…I hate to do this but do you think I could get a raincheck on dinner tonight? I just want to go home.”

There’s a visible look of sadness on her face but she nods, “Of course you can, it’s beautiful by the way,” she says, angling her body to face your painting. 

You mimic her actions, giving your painting a one over, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure about letting them display it when my art professor–she's the director of the exhibit asked. But I’m glad I did, a lot of people seemed to like it.” 

“I can see why!” She exclaims. 

Just as you were about to speak, the voice of your professor cut through all the chatter, “Ladies and gentlemen the art exhibit is now closing! Please make your way to the exit!”

You motion for her to follow you as you head to the doors. “How are you getting home? I could give you a ride,” she questioned. You shake your head, "I don’t think I can be around a Parker right now, at least not without wanting to cry.” 

She frowns upon hearing your words, “Oh.” You push and hold the door open for her, “I know this is an unfair thing to ask of you but can you tell Peter I don’t want to hear from him anymore?” 

May freezes the second she makes it outside, fully processing what you just said, “I’m sure he’s sorry–” She’s trying to save him, you both know she is. “I’m sure he is but I’m not interested in hearing his poor excuse of an apology. He knew how important this was to me and he said he’d be here, but he’s not. There’s only so many times you can let a person disappoint you, May.” Your eyes well with tears as you think back to telling him about being a part of the exhibit and how he added opening night to the calendar on his phone as well as the one that hung in his room, even going as far as drawing a heart around the square.

Cars start to whizz by as the traffic light turns green and you let out a defeated sigh, opening your arms to hug her goodbye, “It’s getting late and I don’t want to miss the train, you should head home too.” This time she hugs you tightly, “Give me a call when you get home, alright?”

You nod your head in response, “Thank you for coming, it means a lot to me. Have a goodnight and drive safe, okay?” Her hold on you gets even tighter, mumbling a goodnight to you before releasing you. 

She stands still and watches you disappear down the street before pulling her phone out, attempting to reach Peter herself and when she's unable to, she leaves him a devastating voicemail, a voicemail he wouldn't hear until thirty minutes later when he was stood in front of ESU’s now dark and empty art center. 

“...She said doesn’t want to hear from you anymore and honestly? I don’t blame her. She watched the door all night for you. All night, Peter, all night! She looked so heartbroken. She was trying her best to hide it but that look on her face, it was soul-crushing. I think this is it for you, ‘there are only so many times you can let a person disappoint you’ those were her exact words. She’s disappointed in you and frankly so am I, I didn’t raise you to act like this. You fucked up big time, there’s no point in sugarcoating it. I adore that girl and I know you do too but you’re losing her…”

Peter could feel the panic rising in his chest as he listened, the thought of losing you made his stomach churn. There's a slight shake in his hand as he presses his phone to his ear, his breath is caught in his throat as he waits for the calls to start ringing, praying you hadn’t blocked him. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when it does but when the rings halt and his phone buzzes with a text message from you, he could feel all the air leave his lungs. 

Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

Peter rushes to text you back; I’m so sorry honey. 

He can see that you read his message but when you don't respond, he sends you another, and another, and another.  

May left me a voicemail 

I know I fucked up 

And that I keep fucking up

But I can fix it 

Can we please talk? 

A spark of hope ignites within him as he watches the three dots appear on the screen but the feeling dwindles once he reads your message; It’s late, I’m tired and I don't want to hear or see you, please just leave me alone.  

Peter goes to respond but another message appears in the chat informing him that you had silenced your notifications. His eyes never leave the screen, reading and rereading all the texts you’d sent him throughout the night, heart getting heavier and heavier with every message. He knows he should just listen and let you be but he goes against your wishes and sends one last message, I love you, I’m sorry.

—————————————

The sound of your phone ringing slices through the noise of the hand mixer you were using and the crinkles of the paper bag your cat was playing with. You glance at the screen, eyes scanning the contact name before turning off the mixer, answering the call, and bringing it up to your ear, “Hello?” 

“Hello sweetheart, how are you feeling today?” Your elderly neighbor’s voice comes through clearly on the other end. A sigh leaves your lips, “Better, better than yesterday at least, I’m trying to keep myself occupied…giving baking a shot.” She hums in response, “Listen dear…I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he’s here.” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean?” 

“That boy of yours. I’ve been watching him, he’s been standing at the door for the past half an hour.” You walk into the living room and over to the window, peeking through the blinds and sure enough there he was standing in front of the door of the duplex with his head hung low. “Do you want me to shoo him away? My grandson left his toy gun here the other day, you know the one with the foam bullets…I’ll take him out for you, sweetheart.” 

Despite being amused by her words, a frown forms on your face, “Stand down, Mrs. Temple. I’ll handle him.” 

“Alright, but if he gives you any trouble just let me know. I’ll give him hell.” Her soft voice now stern, “I know you will, remember how you asked me for his number last night cause you wanted to cuss him out?” You can hear her let out a huff on the other end before exclaiming, “He made you cry! I should go out there and jam my knitting needle through his eye.” 

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll just tell him to leave and everything will be fine. And oh! Before I forget, do you like funfetti cake? I’ll bring it up for you and Mr.Temple a few slices when it's done.” 

“We’d love that!” 

The two of you exchange goodbyes and end the call. You take a second to collect yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the window, “What are you doing here?” 

His head darts up, “Honey,” the sound of his voice catches the attention of your cat, who jumps on the windowsill to see him. He turns his entire body in your direction, digging his hands further into the pockets of his jacket, “Can we talk, please?” 

You shake your head, “I meant what I said, Peter, I don't want to see you. Just go home.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut the window and draw the blinds close. You walk back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder expecting to see your cat following close behind but much to your surprise, he’s waiting by the door. The sight made your heart hurt, “Snaps… I’m sorry buddy but he’s not coming.” 

—————————————

Disaster. 

That’s exactly how you’d describe the state of your kitchen. Your sink was piled high with mixing bowls and baking pans but it was all worth it once you added the final dusting of rainbow sprinkles to the frosted cake. 

“Okay, Snaps, the cake is done, emergency chocolate chip cookies are in the oven. How do we feel about Coming to America tonight?” You ask aloud as you slice into the cake. 

You look up at him perched on the windowsill, head poking around the blinds to watch the rain pour outside.“I’m going to run upstairs, you stay he–” you’re cut off by your ringtone, “Hey Mrs. Temple, I was just about to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“He’s still here, dear.” Her words made you feel uneasy, “He came back?” 

“I’m not sure he ever left….he’s just sitting there.” You rush over to the window, pulling the blinds back, squinting your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him on the stoop. “Oh my god! Can I call you back?” You didn't wait for her reply before ending the call. 

You can feel your chest tighten as you leave your apartment and make the short walk to the building’s entryway. You inhale sharply before opening the door, to reveal Peter scrabbling to his feet. The rain mercilessly beats against his already drenched skin, he looks completely exhausted. “Hi,” his voice comes out as a whisper. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea of how sick you'll get?” You scold him, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him to enter. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out as he follows closely behind into your apartment, you ignore his words and the way Snaps starts to nuzzle against Peter’s leg only to pull away when he feels the cold and wet fabric of Peter’s jeans, “Go warm up in the shower, I’ll bring you a towel and some clothes,” you say walking into your bedroom. 

You search through your drawer for something warm, eventually settling on a pair of flannel pajamas bottoms he’d left at your place for the nights he slept over, the sweatshirt you’d slept in the night before, and a pair of your fuzzy socks he stole from you. 

You use your knuckle to knock on the bathroom door, “Peter? I’m coming in,” you said, turning the handle. “No, wait!” Peter calls out but he’s too late, you’ve already seen it. His suit. 

“What the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you scan the spider symbol on his chest. 

Peter freezes, paralyzed by fear, this was not how you were supposed to find out. “It’s not what it looks like!” he blurts out, voice laced with panic. He watches your shoulder slump back and your eyes well with tears, you’ve never felt worse. 

“Please, don’t cry. I can explain–” the sound of the oven’s timer going off causes you to shift your focus, shoving the towel in his hands. “I laid some clothes out for you,” was all you said before hurrying towards the kitchen. 

—————————————

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of it all. Every moment you spent with Peter replaying over and over again in your head, mentally berating yourself for not piecing everything together sooner. All the cuts and bruises you’ve cleaned and iced, the dates he missed ‘cause he ‘lost track of time’, every question he’d answer vaguely or just flat out avoid, every question you wanted to ask but held your tongue afraid you would come off as pushing or invasive and he’d leave. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing followed by Peter’s faint footsteps and a soft meow causes you to shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the impending conversation to be had. You listened intently as his steps got closer and closer until they stopped right in front of the couch, you had a feeling he was standing over you and your suspicions were confirmed when a droplet of water falling onto your forehead caused you to open your eyes. 

The sight of Peter cradling Snaps like a baby immediately comes into view, “Sorry about that,” he says, shifting your cat to support him with just one arm, and using his now free hand to wipe your forehead. 

“It’s fine,” you mumble, sitting up and scooting over, patting the spot next to you. 

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of you not knowing where to begin, “Thank you for doing this– for letting me in.” Your leg bounces as you try to work up the nerve to finally address the elephant in the room, opening your mouth to speak but shutting it when no words seem to come out until, “So…you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter swallows thickly, “I am.” 

“Oh,” you say nervously fiddling with your fingers, “I guess it makes sense.” 

“It does?”

You shrug your shoulders, “The longer I think about it…yeah. I’ve always assumed that whoever was under the mask was too smart and too courageous for their own good, no one fits that description better than you. And then there's every single injury you’ve ever had ever, no one trips and falls that many times, Pete.” 

He was just about to say something until he hears you, whispering to yourself under your breath, “I can’t believe I dated a superhero.” 

“Dated?” He repeats back your use of past tense only adds to the unsettling feeling in his chest, you were giving up on him and he deserves it. 

You hum in response, “I know May told you what I said– about there only being a certain amount of times you can let someone disappoint you, and you are way past your limit. I think it’s better if we both just accept this is how things were meant to be. Look you can stay tonight but I think it’s best that in the morning all we are is strangers.” Your voice wavers at the end and it makes his heart plummet. 

Tears pool in his eyes, “S-strangers?” 

He shakes his head repeatedly, “No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–”

You furrow your brows at him, “And how exactly was this supposed to go?”

He hangs his head, glancing down at the cat looking back at him, Snaps stretches his paw out to touch his face, “We were supposed to talk it through, I went to the show- I bought flowers, they’re in my bag they're probably ruined now but I have them! I was going to tell you about being Spider-Man but then you weren’t there so I came here.”

“Me knowing about Spider-Man doesn’t really change anything.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“I guess It does-” he picks his head up as the words leave your mouth but it is quick to drop it again when you finish your speaking, “-just not in the way it counts.” 

“Oh,” he can feel his entire body deflate, “What does that mean?” 

 You let out a defeated sigh, “It means I understand why you were always running late or missing dates completely, and why you’ve shown up here sometimes looking as good as dead.” 

“But…?” 

“But it changes nothing about us, our relationship has never been a priority–”

He’s quick to cut you off, “That’s not true.” 

“But it is, Peter. You’ve had a million chances to prove otherwise and you haven’t. I love you-”

“I love you too.”

“-but I can’t keep doing this, I don’t have it in me anymore,” you wipe away the tears that start to roll down your cheeks. “You just aren’t reliable, Peter.”

“What if I could be reliable? Give you stability?” 

“Peter we’ve already been down this road before–” 

“It’s different this time,” he insists, “I haven’t been able to balance being me and being Spider-Man, I’ve lost so much because being Spider-Man has completely dictated my life and I was fine with it because all heroes have to make sacrifices but none of it is worth it if it means I lose you too.” 

Snaps wiggles out of Peter’s arms and onto the floor, giving Peter the chance to grab ahold of your hands, “I can be both and also give you stability, you deserve better and I’ll do everything I can to be better. I don’t want to lose you, Honey, I don’t. Please, let me show that I can be reliable–that our relationship is a priority.” 

Your silence is deafening, you do your best to avoid Peter’s pleading eyes as you weigh options,

“Parker, I swear to fucking god you better pray your lucky number is a million and one because this is the last time I’m ever doing this with you.”

He perks up immediately, eyes glistening as he processes what you said. His mouth opens but you start to speak before he’s able to get a word out, “If we’re doing this then there's a few rules I’d like to set and they’re all non-negotiable.” 

“Lay it on me.”

“Date night. Twice a month, no expectations. I don’t care if we go out or stay in, I just want a couple of nights off with my boyfriend. You flake, you’re out. Got it? ”

“Got it.”

“Wait, that made me feel like a bitch, to clarify that doesn’t apply to serious situations. I’m not going to stop you from helping or anything like that, I just want two nights out of the month reserved specifically for us.”

“I knew what you meant,” Peter reassures. 

“Could you call or text me when you get home after you’re done with Spider-Man stuff? I’d like to know you’re safe.” 

“Consider it done. Can I add a rule of my own?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Can you leave one of the windows in the bedroom unlocked for me? Since you know now I figured I could come over right after patrol and skip the whole ‘changing in an alley somewhere’ part.” 

“I can do that.” 

You stand up and start walking to the kitchen, “This isn’t a rule, it's a favor but could you run this up to Mrs.Temple? And before you ask, yes you can have some.” 

Peter trails behind you, eyes sparkling when he finally sees the baked goods on your countertop. “God, I love you,” he says, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek.

—————————————

Peter’s knuckles knocked against the door, he could hear shuffling around the room before the door opened revealing Mrs. Temple with a big smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh it’s you,” she says, her smile faltering. 

He holds out the plastic cake dish for her to take, “Uh yeah, Y/n’s asked me to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“Mmmhm…I heard what happened,” she eyed him up and down, “and by the looks of you being here, I assume my sweet girl forgave your ass?” 

Peter nods, “She did–” 

“We’ll I’m glad things worked out,” she steps closer, poking him in the chest with her finger, “But if you ever make my baby cry again, it will be the last thing you ever do.” She takes the dish from his hand, her next words were lower than a whisper, “I know a guy.” 

“Well, you and Y/n have a goodnight, tell her I’ll give her a call in the morning,” she adds before retreating back into her apartment.

“I don't think I’ve ever been more terrified of an elderly woman than I was just now,” were the first words to leave his mouth the second he returned to your apartment. 

“Oh god, did she threaten to shoot you?” 

His eyes bulged out of his head, “She has a gun?” 

You wave his question off, “No it's just a Nerf gun.”

His mouth forms into an ‘O’, “so the implication that she could put out a hit on me was a bluff?” 

“No, she really does know a guy, he’s nice.” 

—————————————

Extra:

Your head rested against Peter’s chest, the soft thumping of his heart mixed with his hand rubbing your back made your eyelids feel heavier. 

“Pete?” 

He grunted in response. 

“Why didn’t you go home? When I told you earlier?” 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

You pretend to gag at his statement, “That was too cheesy, even for you.” 

“It’s not cheesy, it's the truth and it’s endearing.” 

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au !!, touya dyed his hair like once, scratching but not shigi level lol, touya has a motorcycle cus he's cool like that..pls don't ask it's just cool. asshat endeavor, big bro touya on top !! and maybe slightly ooc but he already is since hes big bro touya lol, uber touchy bubbly reader, hurt/comfort, lmk if i missed sum else !

on the first day at your new school, you immediately notice shouto. mostly because he's the only one in your class with different coloured eyes. you don't get much time to dwell on him, because you still have to introduce yourself to your classmates.

when break rolls around you're alone. it's not like this was new to you, but you're interested in the one other boy who's alone too. the boy from earlier with the different coloured hair and eyes. you can't help but wonder who his favourite hero is. that's always something people want to talk about. would it be all might ? he's always everyone's favourite. his favourite colour would probably be blue..or maybe green ?

you have to find out, so you march up to where he's sitting alone by the swings.

"hi !" you chirp, offering him your widest smile. he doesn't smile back, seeming a little startled. woops, maybe you were a little too loud. his eyes look even cooler up close.

"i'm yn !" you say, just a little bit quieter this time. he keeps observing you, recovering from his earlier surprise. "i know, i heard. in class." he responds, you blink at him.

"i didn't think you were listening. you were lookin' out the window and stuff, so.." he keeps inspecting you, he's quieter than you are for sure. he decides to simply not respond to you, continuing to slowly rock back and forth on the swing. suddenly, you get an idea for a new topic.

"say, do you know how to swing on your own ?" you bounce over to the swing next to him. his eyes follow you and they widen thinking of your question. slowly, he shakes his head. you beam, a lightbulb rises above your head. " i know how !" you boast, slightly proud to see his eyebrows raise.

the dual haired boy blinks "i didn't know you could do that." he says it a little airily, like it was truly unbelievable to him. you feel your chest burn a bit, you grip onto the bars of the swings and kick your feet.

"then how come you're sitting on the swings alone ?"

he thinks, then shrugs as a response. you don't mind, taking this as your cue to act. you pull yourself backwards as far as you can looking to see if the boy with the cool eyes follows your movements. he does, so you continue until you’re far enough and lift your feet off the ground, jumping onto your seat. kicking your legs forwards and back to gain momentum, you giggle at the air wooshing past your skin.

"you do it like this, see ?" you speak a bit louder, since you're swinging higher and higher. you briefly see him nod and then he's copying your previous actions. he gets the hang of it in a few seconds but he's still a little lower than you, so you drag your legs against the floor, that way you're going at the same speed. "see, it's super easy !" he looks at you again, but you think you see the lightest of smiles on his face.

"yeah." he responds simply, but his voice is just a bit louder so he's sure you hear him. and it makes you smile harder. after a bit of swinging you ask him his name, "shouto" he says. you can't help but think it sounds cool, so you tell him so. he looks a little confused, but he nods in thanks anyway.

you drag your sneakers against the floor to stop and launch off of your seat. you land almost perfectly, stumbling a little towards the end, but you quickly recover. shouto, the boy with the cool different coloured eyes and hair looks intrigued as he slows down too, but prefers to stay seated. you hop over to his swing, gripping onto the bars right above his hands and grin at him. shouto looks surprised, you want to see him smile again like before, except wider.

"hey, shouto. who's your favourite hero ?"

before you, shouto's never had any friends. so he's never had to feel what it was like to be ignored by one.

you're the first person who'd ever asked him who his favourite hero was, and he'd told you his was all might. he still doesn't know why you laughed about it, everyone likes all might.

you talking to him your first day of school made him realise how different you both were. you were way more outgoing than he was on his first day, but even then he never bothered to talk to his classmates. he'd been okay with that, but shouto doesn't like the idea that most likely, if you hadn't talked to him, if you hadn't taught him how to swing by himself, he never would've talked to you. because he wants to talk to you all the time, even if you don't want to talk to him.

after break and your argument, you return to class. you're sitting next to him in class due to assigned seating. you'd been happy about it at first, because now you were desk buddies and he could help you with problems you didn't understand. but now it's like you're practically sitting in the next class over. you act like he doesn't exist, it feels like you've pushed your chair the furthest possible from him. shouto can tell you're having trouble with some problems the teacher gave you, and you're supposed to work with your desk buddies for these, but you keep tucking your arm over your notebook and glaring at him. it feels like when the sun is beaming in his eyes, he doesn't like it.

you don't wait for him anymore when the bell rings. you don't stomp your feet excitedly and grip his hand to walk out of the gates with him, you don't tell him you'll see him tomorrow. you just shove your pencil case and your notebook and you trudge off away from him even as is hangs out of your bag. shouto realizes it then, that he's being ignored. and when he does, he's finished packing his bag neatly, not like usual when he's rushing just a bit because you're waiting and he wants to hold your hand. he takes his time. and when he does he can't move for a while. it doesn't feel normal not being with you. he's only snapped out of it when his teacher asks him if there's a problem. he shakes his head, and walks out of class dragging his feet a bit.

natsu-nii came to pick him up today. shouto stays quiet when he asks him how school went. his older brother offers him his hand, but he doesn't take it, he only wants to hold yours. they walk home in silence while shouto grips his bag.

getting ignored sucks.

"knock, knock."

shouto looks up to see his older brother touya, standing in the doorway of his room. the boy visibly brightens up, focus on him homework now gone. he doesn't smile visibly, but it looks like his eyes smile in a weird way only shouto’s could. and just because it's him, touya thinks it's a little sweet.

"hi." the boy's voice is a bit quieter than it usually would be, it makes the worry in the older's chest grow. he tries not to look too suspicious, tired eyes gazing around the room. "mind if i come in ?" he asks, to which his younger brother responds with a shake of his head.

touya settles down in front of his younger brother, sitting cross legged and resting his face in his palm. shouto hadn't talked about what had upset him when he got back home from school. blazer still neatly tucked in, hair still the same as when he was sent off. touya finds it ironic that that was alarming. shouto had walked off to his room looking gloomy, not saying a word to anyone and not coming to eat dinner even after he was told it would be his favourite. even their father found it strange, opting to leave him alone for once.

touya guessed it probably had something to do with him getting pulled out of school though. he holds back a scoff, of course the old bastard told him.

"hey.." he leans in a bit closer to his brother and talks in a hushed voice, looking around the room to sell the act. shouto tilts his head in confusion, his eyes slowly widen when his brother pulls out tiny fruit candies from his pocket, the oldest smirks "look what i got."

still a bit weary, shouto whispers as well to answer "i'm not supposed to..father said that.." he trails off, pouting to himself.

"what that old fart doesn’t know won't hurt him right ?" he taunts, nudging the treats in his hands towards the little boy. shouto smiles at the nickname used for his father, and finally takes one of the candies, popping one in his mouth as his brother does the same.

"how was school ?" touya asks after a minute, shouto visibly slumps, drawing little shapes on his homework sheet. touya's eyebrows furrow. "no good ?" wordlessly, shouto shakes his head.

"i know i'm not going anymore." the white haired boy sighs, shoulders slouching as his hunch was proven correct. "i heard you and the nanny talk about it."

"oh shit, you did ?"

"swear." shouto dodges, touya can't hide the roll of his eyes. "yeah, sorry, sorry.. you heard me ?"

the boy nods, "did yn get sad when you told her ?" at that, he frowns, bangs in his face but touya clearly sees his little lower lip wobble.

"yn said she wanted to get married. and i said okay, but then i said i didn't wanna anymore..and she got mad at me."

"oh yeah ?" he nods again, the movements of his pencil against his work sheet stop. he speaks so sadly, in a way touya has never heard his brother speak besides when he'd come to him crying at night and when their mother was taken away.

"she said she hates me."

touya feels his heart break. shouto's always been his weird little brother ever since he was born. he was ten years old when shouto had popped out and honestly back then he was weird too. he was pudgy and loud, and he always had this weird little look on his face, fuyumi would tell him that he was just copying the look touya would give him. but that was stupid, he didn’t look that ugly.

but then his weirdo little brother started crawling over to him, started toddling his little feet in touya's direction constantly the moment he managed to drag himself up on his two feet. pudgy little hands reaching out for him even as he pushed him away. and then he'd fall straight on his face and instead of crying he'd just..try again. reaching for his older brother with his big weird two coloured eyes and drooley mouth. touya knew he'd get in trouble if his brother fell over again and he ended up with a mark on his big forehead.

so begrudgingly, he let his brother cling onto him. and he keeps doing it at eleven, and thirteen because he'd get in trouble for pushing his little brother around. but as he reached fifteen, sixteen and seventeen, he could admit that he kind of liked being the favourite. the one his youngest brother always ran up to quicker and quicker the better he learned to walk. he liked being the oldest that his youngest brother could rely on to let him cling to.

he likes being touya-nii, the coolest older brother in the world in the drawing shouto had given him once. it was crude, he doesn't look like that at all. and he definitely didn't tear up when he'd gotten it. but he still has it in his desk drawer.

"i'm sure she doesn't mean that, shou.." he tries, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "'m sure she was just mad. you know how people get when they're mad."

"but yn isn't like that. she doesn't get mad, she's always happy. and she wasn't, 'cus of me. 'cus i lied." shouto's voice breaking breaks touya into a million pieces. "c'mon," he coaxes, opening his arms up for his brother to jump in, which he does, like he always has.

shouto's never had friends, or bullies that touya's known of, besides that no name brat that yn had beat up for him from what he'd heard (he laughed very hard when shouto had told him the news, you were sick as shit). he's never had to deal with this before, it must hit him just that much harder to have to lose a friend. for something he didn't even do or have a choice in. it makes touya's blood boil. touya the coolest brother in the world wouldn't have let this, wouldn't have let his fathers bullshit happen to his youngest brother who doesn't know any better like he once did. until he did, and then it was too late.

he was ruined, but shouto isn't.

"do you still wanna be friends with yn ?" shouto stiffens, but nods into his brother's chest. he blinks away little tears when touya pulls at his shoulders so their eyes could meet.

"do you wanna tell her that ?" shouto's eyes widen. he nods hesitantly, but his eyes drift towards the floor. "but she's ignoring me, i don't like it." he mumbles. touya squeezes at his youngest brother's shoulders to get him to look at him again, putting on his best smirk.

"don't worry about it, yeah ? touya-nii'll do somethin' about it." he answers easily. shouto's eyes brighten, and he hugs the older boy tightly, who hugs him right back. touya likes being the oldest when it's this, not when he has to take the blame for stupid shit, not when he has to set the example for his younger siblings. but when his siblings rely on him, when they trust him to make everything right, and he's big bro touya who gets shit done.

shouto doesn't know what to do now that he's not going to school. it’s been two days now he doesn't know why he bothered with his work sheet since he knew he wasn't going back, just routine he guessed.

lunch break should've passed by now, class would be out soon. he wonders how you're doing today. maybe you're still sad, or maybe you've already made some new friends. his teachers were supposed to be let known a day ago that he wasn't coming back as his father told him so this morning, so you must know by now. he wonders if you're happy about it, and that just makes him sad, so he tries not to. he tries not to think about it but all he wants is to see you.

maybe you're worried about him, or maybe you're hanging out on the swings with someone else already. asking them their favourite ice cream flavour and they're not weird like him, so they'll actually be able to give you one and not answer "i don't have ice cream enough to know." like he did. you'll ask them their favourite colour, and they won't think about it as long as him, they won't shrug like he did. they'll smile back at you and be able to match you and they'd be the one to hold your hand, not him.

shouto doesn't hate much. in fact, he can't think of anything he hates more than this.

training is tiring, but it was a bit more bearable because you'd tell him you'd see him tomorrow and he couldn't wait. but now he won't be seeing you again. and you hate him.

he itches at his scar, his father told him not to and his nanny said it would irritate it more. but he can't help it. because if he doesn't he feels like he'll cry. but that's not working either because he feels like crying anyway and his breathing grows heavier. he wishes he could see you and say sorry for lying. he wishes his mom we're here and he could say sorry for scaring her. he wishes he could cuss at his dad the way touya does, he wishes he didn't scare him so much.

the sliding of his door pulls him out of his gloomy thoughts. touya runs a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh, sliding the door shut behind him. one time when he was sixteen, touya had dyed his hair completely black. his mom had made a big deal about it, his father was more than displeased, natsuo found it really funny and fuyumi scolded him, telling him people might mistake him for some type of delinquent. "or even worse, a criminal !" shouto didn't see what the problem was, he thought it looked really cool. but he'd changed it back to white soon after. "i just felt like it at the time." is what he says every time.

"hey, you okay ?" he breathes, kneeling in front of his younger brother shouto nods. his eyebrows furrow as he brings a hand up to his face “stop itching at that.” he chides, pulling shouto’s hand away from his face before he continues.

"hey, today's a school day, yeah ? and yn's at school ?" shouto tilts his head in confusion, but nods. touya smirks. grabbing onto his brother's arm and pulling him towards the door where he tells him to put on his shoes. shouto obeys, but when he’s told to hop on the back of touya's motorcycle, he finally asks where they're going. his older brother sends him a lopsided grin, and drops his too big helmet onto his head roughly, tightning it and clipping it shut.

"we're goin' to school." he answers easily.

apparently, you’re going to the beach in two weeks.

last night during dinner, that’s what your parents had announced since you get a little break from school. you’d been ecstatic about it at first, you love going to the beach. except when it’s too hot, because the sand burns under your feet. but most of the time it’s fun even if seagulls are a little scary, and maybe you’ll even get to pet someone’s dog.

but now, you’re sitting in class and you realize. shouto didn’t come to school today. again.

but you don’t care.

you thought he was just late yesterday, that usually happened when his oldest brother touya (the super cool one) had to drop him off, but then first period passed, then lunch and then school had ended and he still wasn’t here.

you don’t care, though. you really don’t. but you’re desk feels so empty without someone sitting next to you so it’s awkward. and usually, shouto helps you with math problems you don’t get, but he wasn’t there during math. and you had no one to sit with at lunch, or on the swings either.

and you don’t care, but you feel a little bad about telling him you hated him.

shouto lied to you. that means he’s a liar and you hate liars, that was true. but you don’t hate shouto. you don’t think you can. you’re convinced you hate tanaka for what he did to shouto despite your parents telling you that hate is a strong word and you shouldn’t casually say it. but you do.

shouto made you angry just like tanaka did, and you hate tanaka. but you still don’t hate shouto. because shouto’s your first ever real friend. and you want to say sorry for saying you hate him. it’s lonely without him holding your hand, on the swings, or sitting next to you.

there’s a pit in your stomach and you feel like crying, you wish you could go to the beach with shouto. you don’t know if he���d like to swim much. he seems more like he’d like to make sand castles.

you really want to know.

when he comes back, you’ll say sorry for sure.

later that day, your teacher pulls you aside to tell you shouto won’t be coming to school anymore.

"i'm taking shouto to school tomorrow."

eyes identical to his settled on touya. endeavor remains silent as he briefly glances at his son.

“i keep telling you to knock before barging in.” he says coldly, fixing his gaze back on his paperwork.

“and i keep telling you i don’t give a damn.” touya says just as coldly, “we’re going tomorrow, and you’re going to let us without making a fuss.” he bargains, gaze fixed on his father’s back. he sees his fist clench and holds back a smirk, it’s always fun seeing the old man get mad.

“who do you think you are giving me orders ?” the older man grits out, voice still even “you’re in no place to bargain with me, especially not after i got a call from your school about your behavior again. touya scoffs, he never lets the school shit go does he ? it’s not like he really cares, simply trying to hold something over to boy’s head.

“ ‘m saying this for you, pops.” touya shrugs “you might not realize it, but shouto really wants to go to school. kid even made a friend.” endeavor scoffs harshly at his sounds words.

“so what ? he can easily make more.”

touya’s eyebrows furrow. he grits his teeth “no he can’t. kid’s a major weirdo. this is his first ever friend.” he feels his fists clenching despite telling himself he’ll keep calm, “he managed to make a friend who’s just as weird as him, and he’s really depressed about it. i doubt he’ll want to do any training right now.”

“he will.” his father answers smoothly.

“nah, he won’t.” touya answers just as smoothly, or he tries to. he’s sure his father can pick up on the anger in his voice because he sighs.

“it’s already been done, i’ve already warned the school about it.”

“so just tell them you changed your mind. what’re they gonna do about it ? you’re the number two aren’t you ?” touya tries not to sound too smug about the slight taunt. a sore spot that his father hated to be reminded of was that he was always a close second. in a way, just like he is.

“look, you can do whatever you want. but..” he pauses, his father looks back at him slightly. he keeps his eyes locked on his “shouto likes going to school. pretty sure it’s the highlight of his day, which in itself is fucking weird. but he’s just like that. he’s always been like that.” he chuckles humorlessly. “but he’s met someone he can be as weird as he wants to be with for the first time ever, and i don’t think he’ll take it very well if you just take that from him. might even impact his training..” he trails off, finishing with a shrug “but that’s just my theory.”

endeavor keeps his gaze and touya thinks this plan might be a bust. looks like his father really was a stone cold asshole. but he sighs gruffly, touya looks surprised as he grips at his temples and huffs out “i’ll do something about it. close the door behind you.” shooing him away with his hand, no more words leave his mouth. touya doesn’t say anything else either as he leaves. he wonders if he should leave the door just a smidge open to piss his father off, but he decides not to risk it for now. another time.

but for now, touya-nii managed to do something, and he smirks to himself.

shouto doesn’t really know what he’ll say to you. he’s worried you still hate him, because he’d been told that hate was a strong word and you shouldn’t say it thoughtlessly. he’s sure he hates tanaka, because he’d punched you that one time you fought for him. but he worries that you feel for him the same way you do for tanaka.

he wonders if his words can come out as smoothly as the main leads in the movies when they try to make up with their love interest towards the end of the movie, if he can woo you and make you want to marry him again and say you don’t hate him. he doesn’t have time to think anymore because touya’s bike slows to a stop, not in front of a red light. because he sees the shape of his school, he gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

“you see her anywhere ?” touya grunts pulling him off his bike. shouto always thought it looked really cool, but it was really loud and it hurt his ears sometimes when touya would rev it on purpose to annoy fuyumi. shouto scans the area, classes should be done by now. shouto knows sometimes your bag takes a bit of time to close properly, so he thinks maybe you’re taking a little longer. he shakes his head. he feels touya ruffle his hair, probably to reassure him. or to fix it after being under a helmet for so long. he hopes his hair doesn’t look too messy in front of you.

more people start leaving, and the more he sees of his classmates the more he worries. he sees some students pointing towards him, and he knows it’s probably because of his older brother’s huge bike. but it feels like they’re talking about him, about how you hate him. he doesn’t like it. he feels his older brother’s hands still in his hair. and he feels a bit better because he’s here.

“oh, isn’t there her right there ?” shouto’s eyes widen. and he sees you walk a but further from him. you’re kicking at some rocks under your feet and there’s a pout on your lips. you’re not smiling and shouto finds it extremely hard to call out to you. his lips just won’t move. then you’re eyes are wide as your eyes land on him, because his older brother calls out for you instead. shouto freezes as you march over, he thinks maybe you’ll push him again. but you just stand in front of him, eyes still wide.

“i thought you weren’t coming anymore.” it’s weird to hear you speak to him, your voice yelling at him hasn’t left his mind. he grips his hands together as his gaze locks onto the floor. he hears touya say that there’s been some changes done, changes that he knows nothing about but he nods anyway.

shouto doesn’t have a big speech planned. he doesn’t even know if he can look at you right now, but he thinks as long as he just says what he thinks, he can hope you'll understand.

“are you still mad at me..?”

you stay quiet for a bit “a little bit..” you admit. you don’t sound angry, shouto clenches his fists. he dares peek at you.

“..do you still hate me ?” shouto bites his lip, awaiting your answer. he sees you toeing at your shoe.

“..no,” shouto looks up at you then, wide eyed. this time you’re the one who won’t meet his gaze. “i lied..i was angry..that makes me a liar too then.” shouto gets closer to you after a pause. you blink at him, his eyes look even prettier now that you’re seeing them up close again, one surrounded by red. he shakes his head furiously.

“you’re not a liar..i lied first..” he trails off. shouto doesn’t have a big speech ready. he can’t woo you like the cool guys in movies can. but he can tell you what he thinks, because you’ll understand.

“ do you still wanna get married ? i lied when i said i didn’t want to, ‘m sorry..” he looks up at you then, a determined flicker in his eyes that stuns you, his eyes shine like this.

“i’ll ask you this time, if you want to. you won't have to ask me everything all the time. i’ll ask you again when we’re grown ups until you say yes.” you’re stunned. you don’t think you ever heard him say so many words in a row. usually you ask him questions and he usually responds, shortly. but he does anyway. you were happy with that, you were happy to ask and with him listening. it made you happy because he listened to you.

but shouto wants to marry you, and he wants to be the one to ask you. you’d been so proud of yourself for not crying throughout the day, but you feel tears cloud your eyes. you smack your hands against your face to hide them. shouto jumps, asking you if you’re okay.

“‘m sorry, shou ! i called you a liar an-an’ i said i hated you, but i didn’t mean it” you mumble, voice wobbly “c-cus you’re my best friend !”

“you’re my best friend too..” slowly, you feel him wrap his arms around you. usually, you’re always the one hugging shouto first, especially at his left side because it’s warmer. he says he doesn’t like it but he let’s you hold him anyway and when it’s colder you’re always standing on his left before you can realize it. he’s warm like this and you missed him, so you squeeze him back with all your might. he stumbles a bit but doesn’t let you go.

“i don’t like when you’re sad.” he says simply, pulling a way so he could smooch your cheeks together in his palms. it makes you laugh hard and smile bright, like the sun but not when it’s in his eyes. when it’s beaming softly against his skin and it feels nice. he smiles back at you softly and shouto’s sure he wants to be with you forever. even if natsu-nii had joked that he was too young to know he’d get married to you when he’d told him, shouto knows he’s wrong for sure. and he reaches for your hand. it feels normal again, shouto's sure it'll always feel like this as long as he's with you. normal and fitting perfectly just like your hand in his.

you cling to him and bounce on the balls of your feet like your argument had never happened, touya sees you talking his brother’s ear off about what he’d missed at school, that his classmate had gotten in trouble for fighting and that you had a test due next week. all he can think about is how…easy that was. sure, you’re both still kids. but..really ? he shrugs it off, maybe it was just a weirdo thing.

you ask shouto if he wants to go to the beach with you, shouto hesitates and before he can say anything, touya speaks “sure he can.” he says simply. you squeal, swinging shouto’s arms around and telling him about all the fun the beach is, touya personally doesn’t like it much. too hot.

shouto blinks up at him, and the older boy sends him a wink. touya thinks he’s never seen his little brother smile so wide about anything before. he can admit it's pretty sweet, it makes him smile just slightly too.

as they ride home, shouto rambles about what you’d told him at every stop light, touya hums and offers him a few “oh yeah ?”s and “that so ?”s even though he was literally there the entire time and heard everything. but he’s pretty sure his little brother had completely tuned him out with his sole focus being you.

what a total weirdo, how can you just completely tune out someone standing right behind you ? so weird. but touya can��t help but smile to himself as he rambles about his day at the beach two weeks from now. his weirdo little brother could tune others out all he wants, but he’s sure he’ll never tune you out. cus you’re just as weird as each other and touya’s sure he’ll be just fine.

[anyaeras]

request: Could you write a top!Agatha Harkness fic where she gets jealous seeing another girl flirting with reader and Agatha finally takes measures to claim reader as her property?

Teaching a Lesson || A.Harkness

Pairing: Top!Teacher!Agatha x Legal!Student reader

Summery: Y/n had been in a relationship with her Psychology professor Agatha Harkness for a while. Yet when y/n had been getting a bit to close with another student over a group project, Agatha couldn't help but reclaim her property.

Warnings : smut ,, AFAB!reader ,, gender!neutral!pronouns,, legal!age gap ,, teacherXstudent ,, semi!public sex ,, kinda mean!Agatha ,, gagging ,, mommy!kink ,, strap!on sex,, vibrator ,, degrading ,, praising ,, loads of pet names ,, possessive!Agatha ,, light nipple!play

Masterlist @anyaeras

──────────────────────

Sitting behind her desk Agatha finished getting papers ready for her lesson. As the class started to fill in Agatha stood getting started with her lesson on socializing and how it affects the human brain.

As always y/n greeted Agatha with a sweet smile when she walked into the class sitting down at a desk not far off from Agatha desk. The student had been sitting there since the start of the semester. Yet today their was a small change a young girl, she had transferred to Westview college not long ago, now also in the same psychology class had sat down next to Y/n today.

During the whole lesson the girl kept giggling and passing small notes making y/n smile. These actions didn't go unnoticed by Agatha who had cleared her throat to regather the two college students attention.

"May I ask why you two are disrupting my lecture?" Agatha Silk toned voice rang over the class filled with clear annoyance. Y/n quickly shook her head muttering a shy 'Sorry Miss' before trying to ignore the girl who she later learned her name was Kate giggles.

Agatha's lecture came to a lunch break, today being a 3 hour A and B part lesson. Normally y/n would stay with Agatha on lunch yet today Kate invited her to come eat with her and who was y/n to say no. Without much warning y/n left the room leaving Agatha a bit hurt before noticing she had a text from y/n.

"Kate invited me to go grab lunch with her, see you after class? <3" Agatha signed putting her phone down as she worked on her laptop silently until the half hour break came to an end, students filling back into the room.

Agatha carried on staying professional even when Kate and Y/n sneaked in a little late, y/n's face red from embarrassment, while kate just had a smirk on her face as she sat down back in the same seat. Agatha could feel the burning feeling of hate rising inside her as she kept going on.

"As we come to an end for the day. Does anyone have any questions I can clear up?" Agatha asked as she did at the end of every lesson.

"Yes, Miss Harkness. How do crushes affect one's mind in social settings?" Kate asked aloud the statment alone made Agatha scoff yet still staying true to her profession she answer the question.

"Often some may show it by blushing more, giggling or even being kinder to their said crush" Agatha muttered not going into much detail ready for this whole lecture to be over.

Finally it did end yet Kate hung back as y/n always did as they were waiting for Agatha.

"Y/n why don't you come out tonight with me and some friends, the new club downtown? See you at 8?" Kate called out leaving no room for a reply before slipping out of the room.

"I see you've made a new friend?" Agatha voice husked out as she packed up her things

"Oh yeah Kate she was super sweet, we went to a coffee house and-" y/n started to talk about her day yet was cut off by Agatha.

"Why did you come back late? Your face blushing? Did she make you laugh?" Agatha said her voice harsh. The tone alone stunning y/n.

"Agatha it was nothing"

"Just Nothing? she look at you like she wanted to take you right here infront of me!" Agatha snapped harshly stepping forward her hands cupping y/n's jaw.

"Agatha I swear" y/n tried yet it was no use they knew best how Agatha got in situations like this and it was best to just show Agatha that they were hers.

Y/n moved giving Agatha a soft kiss trying to calm her but was met with Agatha returning the kiss much harsher and slightly sloppy. Agatha's hands moved pushing y/n's down to their sides and holding them there.

"Why don't you be good for mommy and wait right here" Agatha purred before moving leaving y/n dazed behind her as she went to lock the classroom door, then moving back to her dark wooden desk opening the bottom draw revealing multiple fun-time toys.

A purple strap and vibrator she moved so that they sat now on top of her desk. The professor smirked at y/n's before giving a simple instruction.

"Go on doll face, strip." Agatha ordered smiling softly when y/n complied like the good little one they were. Their once simple outfit now pooling on the floor below. Left in nothing but a simple black bra and panties.

Reaching down Agatha grabbed some soft rope as she reached over tying y/n's hands behind their back smiling softly at them before giving y/n a sweet kiss.

"Mommy is gonna show you who owns you sweetheart" Agatha said a soft chuckle following behind her words.

"I know you do-" y/n once more was silenced the feeling of Agatha's fingers being shoved into their mouth was all that flooded their senses.

Agatha watched with a smirk as y/n's swirled their toung around her two digits that the dark haired women pressed oh so softly onto their tongue.

"So good for me sweetheart" Agatha purred before gently removing her fingers from y/n's mouth. Dragging her now wet finger down y/n's front stopping to remove the lacy bra letting it simply fall off, Agatha's wet fingers pitching and pulling at y/n's sensitive buds.

A small yelp came from y/n making Agatha stop abruptly.

"Shh my pet. You need to be silent for mommy" Agatha warned, and y/n was aware that it was a warning, next time they slipped up Agatha's would take action to fix their mistakes.

Agatha wet fingers left a trail as she dragged them down toward y/n's center, pulling her panties off in the process putting them on the desk next to them. Pushing y/n so that they were leaning onto the desk as well. Agatha then let her digits slip between her students folds collecting some of their slick.

"You're soaked. Is this for me Or for Kate?" The professor teased making y/n whine slightly at Agatha jealousy yet before they

Could protest anymore Agatha ruthlessly shoved two of her fingers into y/n's entrance, the loud yelp followed by a moan made Agatha tsk with fake pity.

"Sweetheart did I not just tell you to be quite for mommy? Such a dumb slut you are." Agatha said grabbing y/n's panties and shoving them into their mouth as a makeshift gag.

"Much better" the women purred as she fingered y/n's tight cunt.

Agatha used one hand to hold y/n steady trying to keep them standing as she fucked them harshly with her fingers. Her thumb coming up to press onto y/n's clit. Watching as their hips jerk up as a reaction, Agatha could feel y/n's pussy tighten around her fingers as she forced them to take a third stretching them slightly.

"Go ahead I know you wanna cum" She purred watching y/n's legs shake as she started to cum yet right as she was hitting her peak everything stopped, their orgasm ruined.

A whine muffled by the rough fabric which sat in their mouth came from y/n as Agatha ruined the feeling of absolute bliss.

"Aww you didn't really think mommy was going to reward you after you acted like such a slut all day? Silly thing you are" Agatha purred her breath hot on y/n's ear due to how close Agatha stood. The professor moved and readjusted y/n pushing her over the dark oak desk leaving her face down and ass up.

"Now why don't you show mommy that you can be good and not just a dumb little whore, don't cum without permission" Agatha said starting her sentence so sweetly, but ending quite bitter.

Agatha took the base of the purple silicon strap running it down y/n's dripping folds letting their pussy get the toy wet. Slipping it into Y/n's hole Agatha herself moaned at the sight.

"Your hungry pussy is taking me so well, greedy cunt" Agatha teased before starting to rut her hips into y/n's frame, thrusting hard enough that the desk moved slightly below them. Agatha held her hand over y/n's mouth pushing the makeshift gag deeper into the submissives mouth keeping them silent.

"Aww do you need to cum. Why don't you prove how much your mine and cum?" Agatha purred her other hand grabbing a vibrator from the side of the two, placing it against y/n's clit. Watching as their legs shook violently underneath them.

"Mommy can I cum?" Y/n's voice was muffled and distorted as they begged behind Agatha's hand.

"Go ahead, cum" as the few words of permission slipped off Agatha's tongue y/n fell to mush, rolling over her climax. Agatha supported y/n's weight yet didn't once stop even turning the vibrator up as she held it firmly to the students small bundle of nerves watching with a sly smirk as they got overstimulated, tears fell down y/n's face as the gag muffled her pleads for mercy.

"Come one show me how good of a slut you are for me give me another one baby" Agatha grunted out between her harsh trust, and within minutes y/n was releasing again. This time making a mess on the strap which sat nestled inside her from behind.

"You did so good for me sweetheart. How about we head home and get cleaned up" Agatha said softly praising y/n as she removed her cock from y/n's cunt. Cleaning up around them before pulling the soaking wet panties out of y/n's mouth as well.

"Let's head home and get you all cleaned up" Agatha said yet she watched as y/n's legged shook below them when they tried to take just a single step.

"Aww poor baby let mommy help you, looks like you won't be able to go out with Kate tonight you can't even walk" Agatha said with fake pity before helping y/n out of the classroom. So that they could enjoy their evening at home. Without any Kate of course.

[sexlapis]

Cecil Stedman… I love that old man and your fics have sent me into the atmosphere. I request, a part 2 of the “cece” fic 👀 perhaps the reader actually does put him into like acucute respiratory distress. And it makes for an interesting explanation to the rest of the staff. OR after reader teases Cece abt his age he rlly shows her still got it.

respiratory distress

⟢ cecil stedman x gn!reader

suggestive. sexual situations. fluff. crack. cecil being old

⤷ simply put, you drive cecil crazy.

wc: 587

a/n: no wait this is so funny

masterlist

*

“Jesus christ.” Cecil huffs as he collapses beside you in your bed. His face along with his bald head is a bright red. He huffs and puffs, puffing out his cheeks. His heart pellets against his chest like a steam train.

He knew he should’ve stopped at round two.

He probably bit off more than he can chew, allowing you to use and play with his body however you saw fit, up to your heart’s content but he can never say no to or resist you - not your eyes that sparkle with mischievousness, your pillowy lips, your delicate, feathery lashes, the demanding touch of your hands, the sweet melodies that pour out of your mouth and your malleable, irresistible body. And then he’s doing whatever you ask, abiding by your every beck and call with the click of your finger.

He lacks so much conviction it’s pathetic.

Cecil didn’t think he was the type of guy to so easily give into sex, to be so overcome with lust. He’s the director of the GDA for gods sake, he should have some more self-control.

But when you peer at him with eyes hooded with desire, wanting and wanton, a look reserved for him alone, any questions or apprehensions flitter away like butterflies.

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

You grin at the after effects on Cecil. Seems like you did a number on him.

“Cece.” You hum, fitting your nude body right next to his. You place your hand in his quickly rising and falling chest. “Ce- oh my god. Your heart’s beating so fast. Are you okay?” You laugh nervously, a little bit concerned.

“No-no, I’m fine…just need a…few minutes.” Cecil wheezes out. He lets out a long, deep breath. “Jesus christ.”

You snort. A short wave of affection washes over you. Cecil acts so tough and stoic everywhere else and holds an immense amount of power and influence but he was really just your silly old man. One who reads newspapers every morning in his reading glasses, has the more than occasional knee or back pain and goes to extra lengths to hide his pin number.

That was your Cecil.

“You’re not gonna have a heart attack are you?”

Cecil closes his eyes. “Of course not-“”

“What do I tell the paramedics?

“Please stop.”

“No, no this is serious stuff!” You continue to tease, loving how impossibly red he’s gotten. “We should have lunch breaks in between rounds if it’s too much for you…extraneous exercise isn’t good for the elderly.”

Cecil glares at you.

You shrug. “Just a suggestion.”

Cecil huffs. “I’m fine now.”

“Are you sure? This gives a whole new meaning to ‘sucking the soul out of y’-“”

You yelp out loud yelp as the world briefly transforms into a whirlpool of limbs and bedsheets before you’re pinned onto the mattress. Cecil’s hands trap your wrists within his over your head.

He looks down at you, eyes lidded- still out of breath, face still rubicund and flushed - but now he’s domineering and far more confident than he was a few seconds ago, a dominant glint in his eye. What a sudden change.

“I said,” Cecil leans in close to you, lips a breath apart, “I’m fine. You think I can’t handle one little shit like you? Trust me, I’ve handled worse.”

Your eyes flicker, feeling shy under his steely gaze. Cecil can get like that sometimes; hot and cold, it makes him unpredictable. It makes him dangerous.

It’s tantalising.

“Why don’t you show me how you handle them then?”

He smirks at you, a rare action from him, hungry and wanting. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*

a/n: day 3 of wanting to get cecil pregnant.

[bitegore]

I made a character sheet to plot your OC's development over time! (There's supposed to be a character name in the big white space next to "over time" but it got eaten a little lmao)

You can use this for whatever you want, and you don't have to credit me. Feel free to change or edit anything you feel like. Please don't tag me if you credit me - just link to the original post.

Credits, explanations & a transparent version under the cut :D

Credits:

The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

Fonts used were Bisdak (titles) and Rockwell (body). Both are free! You can use them to fill it out if you like.

Inspired by a comment @maybe-solar-powered-calculator made on this other post about filling it out for characters at multiple points along their arcs. Thanks for putting the idea in my head :D

This is explicitly released under a CC0 1.0 deed, ie: you can do fucking whatever you want with it and I don't care and you don't have to tell anyone where you got it from and no one gets to stop you.

-

Last time I made one of these I got a bunch of questions on all manner of things, and I can never keep up, so I'm just appending a set of notes for how to use it and a glossary because I know some of these phrasings will be confusing.

Ignore or change anything you don't feel like works for you here. You can do whatever you want forever.

Suggested / intended use & general notes:

This sheet could work for something story-level, if you want. But it's really only good for individual arcs; if the character goes through multiple arcs in your story, then they're going to fit poorly here. In that case, you're probably better off doing versions for each arc, or just adapting this to a different format more suited to your thing.

Also, if your arc has a nontraditional structure - divorced from the typical "rising action - climax - conclusion" type of structure where there's a clear 'important turning point' - it may not work as well either.

The mindset section is meant to come at it from a 'golden mean' standpoint - that is, everything on either extreme of the slider is 'too much' and therefore bad. It's not bad-to-good! The far right side is a flaw too. They're only grouped the way they are on basis of the specific OCs I personally had in mind when I put it together.

Growth is labeled 'worse'-to-'better' but it means, like, active decrease in that area vs active increase; if nothing changes, it should stay at the center even if it sucks. The category is about contrasting changes, and sometimes changes are for the worse!

The entire sheet is very deliberately subjective. It should really be answered from the character's perspective - how they feel about it, not what's necessarily true. Technically you can do whatever you want and I can't stop you, but it's a better tool if you approach it from the point of view that the character may believe things that aren't true - that will define their behavior way more than the objective facts of the story.

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Definitions:

This part is long as hell - recommend using ctrl+f to find the specific words you're stuck on. I defined everything.

General categories:

Mindset: how your character thinks about themself and how they act. Their understanding of their own approach to life. Attitude, viewpoint, decision-making process, that sort of thing.

Circumstances: the relationship between your character and the world around them. Where they are, what that place is like, and how they feel about it.

Growth: how the character and their impact - their attitude, their behavior, their immediate surroundings - changes over time.

Outset: the start of the character's arc.

Present: the 'center' of the arc. If you're planning something ahead of time and it hasn't 'happened' yet, then this is the near future.

End-game: where they are after the conclusion of the arc.

Mindset terms:

Center of the world: "If I have a problem, it's the only thing that matters to me." Self-centered, self-absorbed. Doesn't necessarily mean anything beyond that - they don't necessarily have to be unpleasant to be entirely focused on their own life.

my life isn't relevant: "Everyone else's problems are so significant, I don't pay any attention to my own". Someone who ignores or neglects their own life in service of some other thing, or doesn't consider their own behavior to have any real importance.

Only see enemies: Paranoid. Everyone's out to get them. Anyone who seems nonthreatening is hiding their potential for danger and everyone who seems threatening is a threat. The character must remain ever-vigilant, lest the cashier at the 7/11 suddenly stab them, or their best friend turn out to secretly be trying to poison them to death.

Only see friends: Naïve. Everyone is a good actor who wishes everyone else well, and if they don't seem like they're acting from a place of kindness or care then you probably don't understand what they're up to. The character is pretty sure the stranger holding that knife is, like, someone to chat up maybe, they're clearly only hanging out in this dark alleyway because it's a nice spot and no other possible reason.

overthink everything: Ten thousand thoughts per every single action taken. Maybe they never get around to acting at all. They have to consider every possible outcome. What if by eating lunch they accidentally trigger the apocalypse?! Who's going to think about these things if not them?!?!?!

impulsive to action: Act first, think never. What do you mean "consequences of actions"?

Unilateral decisions: "I will make every choice and no one else's opinions or thoughts are relevant". Discounts outside suggestions. Firmly convinced that they know best in any situation, and will brook no disagreement with their views when it comes to actually doing things.

Command me, please: "I don't know what to do and I don't know what to even start with, someone please tell me what to think". No confidence in their own views. Will not make any decisions unless forced and even then will beg someone else to please tell them what to do. Has no idea what's best and is pretty sure anyone else will have a better idea.

can't ask for help: No one will ever help the character; they have to do everything themself, even the things other people have repeatedly offered to do for them and have much more experience with. Doesn't necessarily mean that no one will help them or that they are explicitly barred by some real-world circumstance; just that, for whatever reason, they refuse to ask for help. This is an attitude thing - will they ever reach out? No? Then they're here.

too reliant on others: Have they ever solved a problem alone? Do they believe they're even capable of doing so? The character all the way at this end of the scale absolutely never expects to be able to do anything themself, has no trust in their ability to solve a problem, and needs someone else to come save them from it. The kind of person who needs ChatGPT to do their homework. Again - doesn't actually mean anyone will help them, or that the people they're relying on are reliable - just that they think they are helpless without ... well, help.

Weapon maker: This has to do with problem-solving strategies and not actual weapons. The weapon-maker is a character who views every situation as a conflict that cannot be de-escalated or solved by cooperation, and responds appropriately. The most fundamental weapon maker character turns everything into an argument, a fight, a war, etc. There are a bunch of other responses to conflict, though - they might avoid problems that need solving because they avoid conflict generally too. Fundamentally what you want to answer here is: when they see a locked box and they don't have the key, do they respond to it the same way they'd respond to someone telling them "you can't open this box"? And how do they respond to that? Typical weapon-maker approaches: - brute-force the box open or try and then give up if it doesn't work; and also get into an argument that might turn physical with the hypothetical person - shrug and give up immediately, in both situations so on and so forth. Another hallmark is that they kind of suck at problem-solving and give up if brute-forcing a problem doesn't work. This is not someone who is picking locks unless someone else told them to - they have one solution, it's to make everything into a conflict, and then to win that conflict by beating them or to give up because they think they'll lose.

Tool maker: This person approaches every situation like it's a puzzle, not a fight - up to and including actual fights. Tool-maker characters generally assume that a situation can be solved by just finding the right approach and doing it the clever way. There's the same fundamental question as above - if your character sees a locked box and has no key, would they approach it differently than someone telling them they're not allowed to open the box? 'Typical' tool-maker approaches: - I can trick the person into giving me the key by saying the right things, and I can also pick the lock because fundamentally there are 'right answers' to both of these - If i make friends with this person, they might change their mind, because now we're cooperating. I can still pick the lock because there are 'right answers' there. - The person has a reason for wanting me not to open the box, so I can definitely figure out what that is and solve the reason so then they'll let me open it. I can take whatever it is even if they really want to keep it if I just find the right answer. I'm going to break this box into little pieces because that's the easiest way to get into it but I could probably open it some other way if that wouldn't work.

A note - the center of this bar is someone who generally has different responses to different kinds of situations - like, in the box example, they'd approach the box and the person with two different general attitudes and processes - but generally responds to those situations using the same kind of decision-making process for each category every time. Most people are nowhere near either extreme. Characters tend to be classifiable into weapon-maker and tool-maker because they are fictional and it's easier to define one kind of approach than many. Approximately average approaches: - pick the lock if no one's around, but give up if someone is there because someone telling me not to open the box is a conflict i think i'll lose but a locked box is just a puzzle that i can solve - argue with the person, but give up on the box, because they're approaching the box as a puzzle and they don't think they have the skill to get into it, but the person is someone who can be convinced or bullied into handing over the key

I made this particular dichotomy up, which is why I think I get a lot of questions on it whenever I put it into anything, but I also don't know of any other snappy way to describe this sort of thought or approach variance, and it's genuinely useful for character writing in my opinion.

Pessimist spot-finder: Generally a downer but not necessarily. This kind of character just approaches everything with a close eye for problems, issues, reasons to find fault. If they're miserable, it might be why, but like, they can be a cheerful spot-finder if you want, I just wanted to get at "the glass is half empty" and "the glass is half full" more than anything.

Optimist upside fan: The opposite. "The glass is half full". If there are problems, they can find something about them that's not so frustrating or bad to focus on. Pretty damn good at overlooking minor issues if there's no reason to fixate on them. Not necessarily cheerful.

Abysmal company: could not give less of a damn about treating people the way they 'should' be treated. Maybe they take pride in that. Maybe they just think it's irrelevant. Either way, they know they treat people badly and they don't see any reason to stop. Does not necessarily mean that they treat people badly if they think they're doing the right thing and are wrong. Doesn't mean they're actually pleasant or unpleasant to hang out with, either, unless you really want it to mean that.

Decent to others: treats people well as a matter of course, or at least they sure think they do. Makes an effort. Would probably care and/or consider changing their behavior if someone said they were treating someone poorly. As before - they can be completely un-self-aware and just think they're doing right by people while treating them completely horribly.

Morality is irrelevant: 'abysmal company' for broader approaches to life and problems. Maybe they just know they're myopic and don't think other people's problems matter. Maybe they just gave up on trying to differentiate between 'good' and 'bad' and outsourced it to someone else or stopped paying any attention. Maybe they just like to take morally unjust actions and can't be bothered giving a damn when someone points out that they're morally unjust, or maybe they're proud of it. Kind of a villain trait generally, but not necessarily - it doesn't have to mean they act badly, just that they don't care if they do. Also, this is about how they choose their own actions and view their own behavior. They can think morality is relevant for other people as long as they ignore it when they act themself.

Always in the right: feels morally righteous in every decision they make. Standard superhero type of trait. Doesn't necessarily pass judgement on others, doesn't necessarily act well according to everyone's moral code (see: blue and orange morality), but they are extremely principled and will never deviate from the moral code they personally believe in. And they do genuinely believe in it.

Circumstances terms:

Generally terrible to generally excellent: how subjectively decent is your character's situation, overall? If they think everything is horrible, but the situation is charmed to everyone except them, then it's generally terrible.

Need for changes to passive tolerance: will they do something about it? Do they feel like they have to?

No agency in action to decisions are huge: agency being "how much power do I have to make changes here?", this just asks how much they have. No agency means that, no matter what they do, nothing will happen - they might be locked in a cage or somehow otherwise completely unable to use any sort of power at all, even the power of just leaving. The other end of the spectrum is where every decision the character makes makes a huge difference, not just to themself but to everyone around them as well. They can start wars, they can have anyone they want killed, they can do anything whenever they feel like it. If they think they have no agency even though they do actually have agency, they don't have agency here. If they feel like they have all the agency in the world and can do anything, then they do even if it's not true. It's perceptual again.

Stakes are deadly to mistakes solvable: what are the consequences of failure? Will you die, will you lose status you can't afford to lose, will you lose belongings, will you have to apologize, will nothing happen at all? Mistakes solvable is where they think every mistake is solvable forever - the character pushes someone through a woodchipper and they come out and to fix it, maybe an apology has to occur, but not much else. Does not necessarily mean no one gets hurt or killed as long as the character thinks there are no permanent consequences. This is the most important one on this section to keep subjective because it will greatly influence how your character approaches situations. A character who thinks everything is deadly-stakes may go to cartoonishly-extreme lengths to avoid turning a report in a day late. A character who thinks all mistakes are always solvable may push someone through a woodchipper and then just assume they can say they're sorry and it'll all go away. The setting and their approach do not need to be applicable.

Needs go unmet to attended with care: how do the people around them treat them? Do they pay attention when the character needs something, or do they ignore it? Does the character have to do everything themself around here, or are there people who will help out?

Regarded poorly to regarded well: how do they think other people see them? Are they respected, are they liked, or are they disliked? Do people broadly trust them or are they pretty sure everyone regards them with suspicion?

Nothing changes to changes in seconds: functionally the 'stability' meter of your setting - is the situation generally stable, or are things constantly changing? Does your character feel like every five minutes, there's a new problem that needs dealing with, or do they feel like nothing has ever happened ever?

Growth terms:

Changes in place: do they go somewhere else? Does the physical setting otherwise change (eg; earthquake, war, etc) ? Are there any other reasons that the 'vibe' or 'experience' of the place is different from before?

Change in power: does the character's percieved agency (see: no agency in action to decisions are huge) change? Alternately you can use it if they've gained or lost power in some percieved way (deposed, assigned a commanding position, etc).

Change in bonds: do their relationships with people change? Have they made new friends, lost old friends, changed the nature of their relationships with friends or partners, etc?

Change in beliefs: straightforwardly, have their beliefs, morals, etc, changed?

Change in hurts: have they undergone some horrible experience? Do they have past trauma from some pre-arc horrible experience they're healing from and/or discovering they're more powerfully subject to? Did they experience a physical injury that they're recovering from or which materially changed their life? Did something recent dredge up old issues? So on and so forth.

Change in hopes: Do their desires for the future look the way they used to? Do they care about different things now? This is something the character is not actively working for, but may be tied to actual goals.

Change in fears: are they overcoming fears? Growing past them? Gaining new ones? Are they scared of shit different from how they used to be?

Change in goals: Not the same as a hope because it needs to have a specific, achievable outcome the character is actively working toward. Do those material goals look different? Perhaps they no longer want to work against something, maybe they didn't have any goals and now they do. Or maybe they've realized the goal is impossible, or something has happened to make that goal unachieveable. Whatever it is, if there's a change, it's a change.

Change in self-awareness: their beliefs about who they are and what they're like, and what their circumstances are. Have they gotten more self-aware, have they gotten less self-aware, or has nothing changed?

Change in relationships: their relationships' overall health and resilience, as far as the character is concerned - which doesn't mean they're necessarily good, just that the character thinks they're how they're supposed to be. Have they improved? Have they gotten worse? Have they not changed?

Change in knowledge: do they feel like they know more about the world, their place in it, the people around them, etc? Not necessarily how to do things - just general information and awareness.

Change in social standing: how does others' regard for the character change over this part of their arc? Do people like them more or less? Are they respected more or less than before? Has nothing changed? And so on.

Change in skills and abilities: do they feel more skilled than they were before? Do they feel like they know how to do as many things as before? Again - not necessarily rooted in reality - a classic example of a character being wrong about this is a 'big fish in a small pond' character who used to be the high school sports star going to college on a sports scholarship and discovering they're not the best any more, and suddenly feeling like they're the worst - when they're better than they've ever been in an objective light. Use a subjective viewpoint for this.

Change in agency in life: how does the character's percieved agency change? Do their decisions matter less now than ever? Do their actions make way more happen than before? (See: no agency in action vs decisions are huge)

Change in outlook: Here's the upper/downer part. Are they more or less hopeful for the future? Do they think things are more terrible now? Are things improving as far as they're concerned? Or has that not changed?

Change in goal progress: how do they feel like they're progressing on the goals they've set for themself? Are they getting further and further away? Are they getting closer?

If some of this doesn't make sense and you want a clarification, you will have to tag me to get my attention, because I'm turning notifications for this post off the minute it leaves my immediate social circle.

Transparent version: (sorry you had to scroll so far)

[valyrianvibranium]

EVENING DELIGHTS.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, kitchen sex, choking, teasing, slight praise kink, slight breeding kink, modern au

WORDS: 1.7 K

NOTES: based on this request. Thank you so much, @chattylurker!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The melody you hum is barely audible to anyone but you as you cut through the red bell pepper, preparing thin slices. It’s a bit of a daunting task with how much wine you’ve drunk prior, and you’d love to swap places with Aemond instead. He’s lounging on the sofa, a sleepy Vhagar nestled up against him with her head in his lap, watching a show about cars being tuned and raced against each other. 

It appears he’s just as tipsy as you are, a slight stagger in his steps as he rises from his seat coaxed by your soft melody, and makes his way over to you. A lazy smile is draped over his chiseled lips, staring you down like a hunter does its prey. 

You act unfazed at that because he could have come to help you sooner, but you still bite your bottom lip as he leans the weight of his body against your back. His scent immediately fills your nostrils, just as intoxicating as the warmth emanating from him. 

“What’s cooking?” he drawls, bringing his hands to your waist. 

You chuckle at his approach, and cut another piece of the bell pepper. “Just making some oven roasted vegetables.”

Aemond hums, and proceeds to rub his hands over your sides. His nose drags against the side of your face, inhaling your scent and making it impossible for you to focus on the task at hand. 

Bringing a slice of bell pepper up to his lips for him to eat, you hope to distract him just a bit so you can finish the slicing. “Did you know your brother proposed to Floris today?” you ask, chuckling as you hear the content chewing right next to your ear. “Hel called today while you were at work and told me.” 

Swallowing, he quickly grabs another piece before you can swat his hand away, and stuffs it into his mouth. “He did?” he mumbles around the vegetables he’s been chewing, licking his lips and grinning. One of his hands leaves your waist and trails down to wrap around your thigh. 

“My big brother finally got down on one knee, huh?” he says amusedly, squeezing your thigh. “And what did she say?”

You slightly push your hips back against him, and shoot him a warning glance as his hand travels lower. “Of course she said yes,” you reply. “I called her immediately. And apparently, they plan to get married in Highgarden.”

The glare makes him chuckle, and his hand moves back up to wrap around your waist instead, using both to pull your lower body against him, your hips pressed together now. “Highgarden? That’s cute.”

Both his arms band around your body now, and you fully abandon the cutting board the moment one hand comes up to cup your breast. Your breathing turns heavier at his actions, although you try to act unfazed again to continue cutting the rest of the vegetables. There’s a bit of a silence between you, and, while Aemond gently squeezes your breast, he seems to be deep in thought. 

“So… Do you actually like me?” he asks, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot right behind your ear. 

His question makes you roll your eyes, and prompts you to look at him from over your shoulder. “We have been together for seven years, Aemond. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”

The grip on your waist and breast tightens but is far from being uncomfortable, just enough to keep you standing where you are, tightly pressed against him. As he feels your hips push back against him again, he smirks and presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

His voice is much more breathy and husky when he speaks again, “good point.” A quick, sloppy kiss finds the spot beneath your ear, allowing him to nibble on your earlobe in the following. 

You giggle softly at that, and try to stop your body from reacting to his proximity. You feel his hot breath against your neck and his warm body completely enveloping yours. It makes your stomach churn, in a good way. You’re still tipsy, feeling yourself relax into him more and more. “You’re distracting me, Aem.”

He lets his hand slide down your body, one finding your ass to grope it and the other coming to rest just shy above your mound of venus. Kissing your neck again, his breath comes out even warmer than before. “You are so distracted by a little kiss?”

Snorting, you’re not able to deny it, especially because you’re so distracted by his touches. You want to shove him away to finish the cooking, but also want to hug him to keep him even closer. With your breathing growing labored, your body reacts to yours being pressed against each other like that. 

Warmth spreads in the pit of your belly, and you can’t help but moan as his fingers trail a little bit lower. “Shut up…” you try to keep your composure, wanting your voice to remain tough, but to no avail. There’s a tremble audible in it. 

Aemond clearly knows how much he turns you on, and can’t resist the urge to tease you. He chuckles, and proceeds to cup your clothed pussy. A little smirk spreads across his lips, his grip not wavering once. “Make me,” he whispers. 

The heat inside of you builds up faster the longer you stay in that position. You thought you could hold it back, but at this point it’s just impossible. You’re tipsy, the alcohol just makes it worse. He has you right where he wants you, and you know that. Your cheeks are hot, and your body trembles under his hands. 

You push the cutting board and vegetables aside to clear the countertop in front of you, and Aemond takes that as his cue to flat on the counter. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease today,” you gulped, the words accompanied by a gasp as he yanks down your leggings and thong. 

Scrambling for hold, you plant your palms flatly on the surface, supporting yourself as you feel the tip of his cock prod against your entrance. You’ve been wet enough to make it easy for him to push inside in one, swift thrust, filling you right to the brim. 

There’s no need for him to give you time to adjust to his size, having had him in the morning already. The pace he sets up isn’t as reckless as his usual pounding, given the position and his legs being slightly bent at the knees. 

His cock drives deeper and deeper, coaxing moans and whines to tumble over your lips, and where the cutting of bell peppers could’ve been heard before, it’s now replaced by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your moans. 

“So sensitive,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself.

His hand comes up to clasp around your throat. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking. His lips press to the side of your face again, and, apart from his heavy breathing fanning over your hot skin, you also hear him mumbling praises. 

Heat builds in your belly as his balls slap against your sensitive bud, sending shivers up your spine and you straight into a frenzy. 

“Who needs dinner when I can have this perfect pussy?” he rambles, speaking more to himself than you. 

Aemond digs his fingers into your hip and pulls you back against him with each thrust, meeting his cock halfway. 

“Gods, I… I–”

“You’re gonna cum for me already, baby?” he rasps into your ear. 

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his heavy balls slapping against your clit, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release washes over you suddenly. 

Your walls flutter and spasm around him, arousal leaking from around his thick girth and soaking his gray sweatpants. Grinding back against him, you ride out your high in rhythm with his thrusts as he fucks you through it. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the countertop, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

“That’s, fuck, that’s it, mhh,” he hums, the relief in his voice audible.  

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He pounds it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

Only as both your aftershocks slowly subside does he move, pressing a trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder. His hand slides from your hip underneath your shirt, pulling it up slightly to cup your breast. 

With a low whisper, he sighs. “Can’t wait to marry you.” He kisses your shoulder once more before moving his lips up to your ear, and he can’t help but grind his hips against yours, his cock growing flaccid again. You mewl at that, pushing back against him. “And I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

At his words, your body feels hot all over. The thought of him getting you pregnant makes your knees buckle, and you feel like you’ll explode at any given moment. 

Your head tips back against his shoulder, and you breathe in quickly before replying, your voice trembling and husky. “Neither can I.”

Hands letting go of the counter, you push him back enough to get him to pull out of you, allowing you to turn around to face him. Your hands move to the seam of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Marveling at his alabaster skin, and the slight imprint of his muscles, following them with your index finger, you look up at him through batted eyelashes. “I’m gonna stop taking the pill soon.”

That seems to stir something in him, and before you can say something else, he grabs your body to throw you over his shoulder. The fit of giggles that erupts dies as soon as you hear his words and note the direction in which he’s walking, immediately replaced by anticipation and excitement. 

“I wonder how soon I can get you pregnant.” 

General Taglist: @belladonnasorcerer @valeskafics @connorsui @arcielee @watercolorskyy @black-dread @darylandbethfanforever9 @croatianprincess @snowystark @moonlightfoxx @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fan-goddess @at-a-rax-ia @tsujifreya @nothingqueens @ashovertheriver @bbgmonsay @doublesparrows @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @multyfangirl @dixie-elocin @zaldritzosrose @userhotd @delulumhaggy @wolfdressedinlace

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel

[judeswhore]

you’re so golden

summary: jude deserves a personal congratulations after such a big achievement

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (m) unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is not my best work but i really wanted to post something for u all :(

"what're you-?"

"shush." mouth pressing softly over jude's you cut off his unnecessary question, fingers deftly pulling at his belt to work it open. the clink of the metal sent a thrill through you, had the hairs rising on the back of your neck and left you feeling even hotter beneath the skintight material of your dress. you gave one firm tug and it slipped from around his waist, fell to the carpet with a dull thud, left behind at the door as you pushed your boyfriend a little further into the hotel room.

a little further being only a few steps until his back hit the hallway wall, a soft "oof" filtering from his lips at the surprise contact. a giggle followed, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and tilt your mouth closer to his, lips slotting perfectly together and you shuddered when he licked at your bottom lip. the action made your hands tremble a little, fingers slipping where you tried to unbutton his trousers and work at his zip.

"baby," jude huffed another laugh, broken quickly by a whimper because your hand was suddenly inside of his trousers, fingertips ghosting over his already half hard cock. "slow down." your answer was a petulant pout, brows creasing together and a whine released itself from your throat.

you didn't want to slow down. you'd been thinking about getting on your knees for him since he'd started getting ready hours before. you'd been patient throughout the ceremony and little bit of the after event, faked smiles and niceties only because of the cameras and his parents when the whole time, all you were thinking about was pressing him so far down your throat his shape would be imprinted there forever. you'd been slow but now your patience had all but disappeared and what was the point of being alone in your hotel room if you couldn't congratulate your boyfriend the way you wanted?

"don't look at me like that." jude half chastised, thumb brushing lightly over your jutted out bottom lip and he drew in an unsteady breath when you sucked the digit into your mouth. his gaze darkened, hips pushing subtly against the palm you'd flattened over his cock. his gaze stayed locked on your lips, wrapped delicately around his thumb as you suckled softly, moaned low in the back of your throat so he knew just how badly you were aching for this. "we've got all night y'know?"

with a wet pop you let his thumb go, squeezed lightly at his cock and felt pride spark deep in your tummy when he hissed. "but i want it now." to your own ears you sounded whiney and desperate but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, already letting your mind wander to the feel of him on your tongue. "please, jude, wanna taste you."

your boyfriend's head fell back against the wall with a heavy thud, a groan vibrating from deep in his chest, one you felt tickle against your lips when you pressed them to his throat and mumbled another string of pleas.

"fuck. yeah, yeah okay, baby. get on your knees f'me." a giddy smile spread over your lips and immediately you dropped to your knees in front of him, head tilted back a little as you held his gaze and waited for him. the backs of his fingers grazed your cheek before he cupped your jaw. "y'gonna show me how bad you want it?" you could only nod and jude was smirking, tapping softly at your cheek in a way that made your entire body burn. "good girl."

you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and boxers and tugged lightly, pulled them down just enough to let his cock spring free, your eyes immediately locking on it. your hand looked stupidly small when you wrapped your fingers around the base and shuffled in closer, breath fanning warm over the tip and jude's thighs tensed in response. the tip of your tongue swept teasingly over the head of his cock, tasted the pre cum that was already dribbling over the soft skin and gave a happy little hum at finally being exactly where you wanted to be.

jude watched with lowered lashes as your throat worked and you spat messily over him, started to work your hand up and down the heavy length of him while you sucked softly at his tip. your free hand snaked beneath his shirt, up over his abs before your nails raked back down the skin and he gave a quiet whimper, pressed his hand against the back of your head for a bit of stability. for a few moments he let you focus on the tip, tongue swirling over it before you smattered wet kisses along the vein that ran down the side.

"m'so proud of you, baby." you muttered the words against his skin and they came out muffled but still made jude grin, his thumb rubbing soft over your jaw. you watched him through your lashes, a smile tipping your lips before you rubbed them messily over his dick, found yourself at the tip again. "y'looked so hot. the whole time you were on that stage all i could think about was pulling that stupid suit off you."

"yeah?" jude huffed a soft laugh and you watched his chest heave when you rubbed your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"mhm, made me so wet, been thinking about your cock all night." with those words you finally relaxed your jaw and slid half of his cock into your mouth, hollowed your cheeks and sucked softly before dragging back off him, repeating the motion at a slow pace. you kept your eyes locked on his, head bobbing a little deeper each time with hopes of taking everything he had to offer.

"jesus, you're fuckin' perfect y'know that?" he brushed his thumb beneath your eye before his hand travelled to the back of your head, palm urging you a little further on to his dick. the tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, jude's soft moan making you ache. "there you go, look so pretty on my dick, babe."

you gave a little whine at that, elated at the praise no matter how small and tried to take him deeper, stopping only when your nose was pressed snugly into the hair at the base of his cock. having him so far down your throat was making you dizzy, jaw aching and you couldn't stop your spluttered gag but still you didn't pull back, only nuzzled in a little bit more as jude swore above you. his palm pressed harder against the back of your head to keep you in place, his hips shifting forward as though to push deeper despite the fact he couldn't go any further.

glancing up at him again the dull throb of your clit only intensified, wetness pooling in your underwear as your mind spun. he looked unfairly gorgeous, head tipped back a little, eyes half closed and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, marks from your lipstick littering his throat. he'd unbuttoned his shirt at some point since you'd dropped to the floor before him and it hung open at his sides, chest and abs on full display, so pretty you just had to run your hands over him again. your nails dug lightly into his skin and you raked them down the ladder of hair that often drove you crazy. jude used his grip on the back of your head to guide your mouth up and down his cock, tongue lolling softly against the underside, swirling around the tip when he let you take a few seconds pause.

"look at you," he cooed softly, the hand that wasn't pushing at your head stroking gently over your cheek before he gave it another light slap, muscles flexing when he felt your throat tighten around him. you were blinking rapidly at him, tears leaking from your eyes and mixing with the spit that was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, a garbled whimper sounding from you when he snapped his hips forward again. "could fuck your pretty little mouth all night."

you'd be more than happy to let him do that but the lack of attention to your clit was becoming painful, the dull ache of being so empty making it a little difficult to think. when jude's hand slackened slightly on the back of your head you took it as your chance to pull off him, lips still pressed to the tip in a light kiss even as you spoke.

"can you-" you drew in a breath, a half gasp after having had him fucking your throat for the last few minutes before you met his gaze through your lashes again. "want you to fuck me, please." your desperate begging was jude's undoing, his cock twitching against your tongue as he gave a quick nod of his head, hands reaching for yours to help you up from the floor.

within moments he had you pinned to the wall where he'd been leaning, your hands pressed firmly against it as he settled himself behind you, fingers working to bunch your dress up over your hips. you were both too needy to properly undress or make the few step journey to the bed so jude simply settled for hooking your underwear to the side, shoulders rolling so he could shrug his shirt off. with one hand grasping firmly at your hip, he wrapped the other around his cock and guided it between your thighs, pushed the tip through your folds to bump teasingly against your clit.

"fuck, y’got this wet just from having my cock in your mouth?”

"told you, i’ve been thinking about you all night." you let out a hicuppy little whine, hips shifting impatiently as jude continued the slow back and forth rocking of his own hips, cock nudging at your clit until your hand flew behind you and you grabbed at his wrist. your nails bit into his skin. "jude."

"shh, s'okay, i've got you." the blunt head of his cock pushed against your dripping hole, a soft moan vibrating in your ear as jude's head settled just over your shoulder and then he was pressing completely into you. your moan was loud when his hips met your ass, pussy stretching around the thick length of him and it was impossible not to tighten even more around him.

jude let out a breathy moan when he buried his cock into you, one that fanned directly against your ear and made your tummy flip with desire. he didn’t pull out immediately, only trailed a line of wet kisses along you jaw till his lips met the shell of your ear.

“is this what you were thinking about? me fucking you stupid like this?” with those words he drew his hips back until only the tip of his cock was pressed between your walls, before pushing forward again. the force of the thrust almost knocked the air from your lungs, had you letting out a startled squeak as you nodded frantically.

“thought-oh- thought about just fucking you in the bathroom. y’looked so hot in your suit and then you won and you looked even hotter.” you mumbled softly, forehead dropping to rest against the wall as jude found a steady rhythm. the quick drag and pull of his cock inside of you was your favourite feeling in the world, the dull ache as he stretched you out something you wanted to feel forever. you were sure you were already making a mess, pussy so wet it was easy for him to fuck into you but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, too caught up in how good you felt.

your boyfriend clicked his tongue quietly and without even looking you knew there was a half smirk tugging at his lips. “dirty girl.”

silence fell between you after that, you too consumed by pleasure to focus on forming any coherent sentences and it left only your moans and quiet whimpers to fill the hotel room. the slick sound of his cock filling you up quickly grew louder too and made your head spin slightly, turned you on even more and it was ridiculous how worked up this man could get you. the feeling of his lips on your neck were making it even harder for you to concentrate and you let your mind go completely blank, content with letting him take full control.

he fucked you quickly, rough thrusts that had your legs shaking within minutes, his fingers digging so harshly into your hips you were certain he was going to leave bruises behind. the soft sounds of his moans were muffled because jude was yet to part his mouth from your neck, teeth biting and scraping across soft skin before he soothed the ache with his tongue, the action only repeating when he found a new spot. you tried to press yourself further back against him, a silent plea for him to fuck you a little deeper and in response he pulled your hips back slightly, pressed his palm against your lower back to bend you over a little more.

it had his cock sliding further into you on each rock of his hips, the tip finally nudging that one spot that made your eyes roll back, a quick sob tumbling from your lips. “there it is. s’that good, baby?” he spoke softly into you ear, angled his hips a little better so he could hit that spot fully each time, determined to wring an earth shattering orgasm from you. “doing so well f’me, wish you could see how pretty your pussy looks squeezing my cock.”

“can’t-fuck-wanna cum, jude. need it so bad, please. want-“ you cut yourself off with a moan because jude’s fingers had left your hip and found home on your clit instead. he rubbed gentle circles over the little bud, your wetness making the action messy and your knees almost gave out, pussy clenching tight around him. he gave a low whimper, pace faltering just a little and it was nice to know he was just as wrecked as you.

“you want what? tell me and i’ll give it to you.” his fingers picked up their pace, the quick attention on your clit matching his harsh thrusts and you knew within moments you’d be coming around him. “c’mon, pretty girl, tell me.”

“want you to cum inside me.” the words tumbled out of you, rushed and through another whine and they had jude’s cock twitching inside of you, his hips delivering a much harder thrust as he blew out a curse. the two of you had only recently ditched condoms, wanting rid of the final barrier in search of even more intimacy but despite that, jude had still pulled out each time, painting your tits or face all nice and pretty for him. but tonight was special and you wanted to congratulate his win in your own way, in the way you knew he’d been wanting for a while.

“yeah? y’want me to fill you up nice and good? y’gonna take it all f’me? hm? make me proud?” jude’s voice sounded just a little whiney and you knew you’d ruined him with those words, had pushed him dangerously close to his own orgasm. you were proven right when he used his free hand to cup your jaw and tilt your head so he could kiss you over your shoulder, lips slotting messily together due to the awkward angle. “cum on my cock and i’ll give it to you.”

with that he let you go, pressed his hand against the wall just above your head and used the slight leverage to start fucking you a little harder. his fingers stayed on your clit, rubbing over it until your slick walls squeezed around his cock, so tight you were surprised he could even pull back out. you’d gone a little dizzy, throat aching from your constant moans and whimpers and your ass had started to bruise from the force of jude’s hips against it. the tip of his cock kept up the non stop abuse against the sweet spot inside of you and with a quick pinch to your clit you were coming.

“oh my god.” turning your head you sunk your teeth into jude’s bicep, bit down hard to muffle your cries because the last thing you wanted was the people next door hearing and you were being unusually loud. it made jude groan and he fucked his cock into you a little harder, revelled in the way your pussy gushed around him, your cum making a mess of both of your thighs. your entire body was shaking, legs wobbling so much jude had to let up on your clit in favour of wrapping an around your waist to hold you in place.

“that’s it, good girl. feel so fucking good, baby. keep squeezing me like that, m’gonna cum f’you.” you could hear jude babbling further words of praise behind you but your mind wasn’t focusing, too wrapped up in the pleasure still wracking your body, lingering hot and heavy at the base of your spine. the noises jude was making only seemed to prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm, his moans and soft whimpers making your clit ache even more despite how sensitive you knew you were and you were certain tonight wasn’t going to be a one round kind of night.

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before his hips stilled, pressed flush to your ass as he came, painted your insides and filled you up so much it was already leaking from you. his forehead thudded heavily against your shoulder, quiet whimpers filling the space around you as his cock pulsed, the flutter of your pussy dragging a wrecked groan from deep in his chest. he shifted his hips a little and you whined, purposefully clenched around him because you didn’t want him pulling out.

“jesus christ,” he let out a breathless laugh, tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and let his forehead rest heavy against your temple. “that was..”

“congratulations, golden boy.” you couldn’t help but grin, that flutter of pride blooming in your chest again and you wanted to spill every thought in your head about how incredible he was. before you could do that though jude was running his palm over your hip, pulling his cock slowly from the snug warmth of your pussy. before his cum could drip down your thigh he tugged your underwear back into place and gave a soft, teasing pat to your ass.

“that was by far my biggest win tonight.” his grin was cheesy and just bordering on cocky when he turned you to face him, fingers helping to fix your dress. it was a pointless act because he was planning on peeling it off you in the next few minutes, his cock already kicking up at the thought of burying himself back into your cunt, filling you with cum until you couldn’t take anymore.

“don’t let anyone hear you saying that, they might take the trophy off you for under appreciation.” you teased, eyes roaming his bare chest, gaze lingering a little on the mark your teeth had left behind on his bicep. he looked gorgeous, sweaty and a little fucked out, glowing either from the trophy or the orgasm and you didn’t really mind which as long as the look remained.

“they can have the trophy, i told you, i already got my best win.” he dipped to kiss you, soft and slow at first but heating up by the second, his tongue a little desperate when he licked into your mouth. you were right about going for more than one round because jude was already toying with the hem of your dress again. “the shower in here is really big. i’m talking sauna size. how about we get you out of that pretty dress and you let me get you cleaned up?”

the glint in his eyes suggested he had absolutely no intentions of actually cleaning you up but you’d seen the shower and the little ledge just big enough for you to perch on and you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t been thinking of getting jude on his knees for you since early that morning. a sly smile curved your lips and you trailed your nail down the centre of his chest, grazed along the ladder of hair and watched his eyes fall shut for a second.

“s’pose it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“exactly. it’d be impolite.” that had you giggling and jude’s smile only grew bigger, his hands firm on your waist to guide you further into the hotel room. your legs wobbled just slightly and heat settled in your cheeks, feeling flustered over the fact jude had already managed to fuck you so good it’d left you weak in the knees. you hoped he hadn’t noticed but the second his head dipped and he nuzzled his nose against your cheek you knew he hadn’t missed it.

“careful, bambi,” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the warmth of your cheek. “i’m supposed to be the one on my knees this time.”

[ebsmind]

⏾ SOMEWHERE IN THE HAZE, GOT A SENSE I'VE BEEN BETRAYED | jack hughes x singer!reader

summary : how y/n found out vince cheated the first time

word count : 1.3k

warning(s) : cheating (poor baby y/n ☹️), arguing, mentions of k wording Vince, Vince is a fucking asshole (sorry lol), crying (i hate to see my baby sad)

a/n : AHHHHHHH okay okay this is my first written part and I hope I did it justice bc as much as I love angst, it's hard to write it! anyways, I'm glad I decided to do this because it challenges me to not only go deeper for yall to understand reader it also kinda makes you see what she had to put up with (what the fuck vince) okay that's all I had to say! send me asks about this series bc I love talking about teehee OKAY BYE ILY

series masterlist

The stars glisten upon the midnight-colored skies. The clock that sits on your nightstand on the right side of the bed, has officially struck midnight, signifying a new day. You turn a page of the book you're reading, And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, a re-read. The early January winds whip through the city of Seattle. Draped upon you is a lavender-colored fuzzy knitted blanket. Handmade by Vince's mom, Tracy.

In the far distance, you can hear the water leaving the showerhead; Vince is taking a shower. The thought of joining him crosses your mind, but you shake the thought away and continue reading. You go to turn the 129th page, but Vince's phone dings before the next page is revealed. It takes a small fragment of a moment for your eyes to find where it sits. Once you do, you make a B-line to its location. You don't notice how his phone was placed face down until you reach the dresser.

Your eyes burn holes into the back of the phone. The clock is ticking. The more time passes, the less time you have to decide whether or not you're going to snoop through your boyfriend's phone. Your internal dialogue fights between two actions: Pick up the phone and read the text messages waiting for a response, or ignore it and continue reading your book. The little devil on your right shoulder wins the battle.

Before you even think about any consequences if Vince were to catch you, you find your right hand already reaching for the phone. The screen illuminates your face, reflecting against the blue lenses that sit across the bridge of your nose. The first thing you notice is the time, 12:34 am. Who in the hell is texting him at this time? The second thing you notice is how Vince no longer has you as his lock screen. Instead, you're faced with a picture of him on a golf course with some of his buddies. If it weren't for the worry about who was texting Vince this late a night, you probably would have cared. The third and final thing you notice is the simple "D" that had given him a notification four minutes ago. You don't have to unlock Vince's phone to read the message, FaceID recognized your face the moment you picked up the phone.

D

goodnight, can't wait to see you tomorrow 💋

*one image*

Waves of anxiety hit you like a tsunami. You reread the text message over and over, thinking that it'll change every time your eyes scan the last half of the message. It's imprinted into your mind, no matter how hard you try, it will never go away. The thought of pressing the message to fully see the picture makes bile rise up in your throat. Knowing it most likely contained some type of nude picture. Whether it was a picture of some nice expensive midnight blue lingerie, maybe even clear water teal, or a picture of the girl's tits, it was going to taint you for eternity. You weren't stupid. Things like this happen to stupid girls, but not you. It couldn't.

You don't hear the water coming to an abrupt stop or Vince walk into the room until he questions what you're doing. "Why do you have my phone?"

Your head whips up to where Vince stands, at the door frame that connects his master bedroom to the master bathroom. His light caramel curls rest on his forehead, beads of water drip down his chest, and his right hand rests on the knot in the towel that's wrapped around his waist. You don't realize the tears that started falling just moments ago until Vince asks, "Why are you crying?"

The gut-wrenching sadness you once felt slowly simmers down and a deep rust color of rage clouds your vision. Without delay, you chuck Vince's phone at his chest and scoff.

"Why do you fucking think?" You wipe the tears that stream down your face with the sleeve of your cream-colored cotton long sleeve, mascara ruins the once-clean shirt. Vince contemplates whether he wants to deny or openly be truthful with you, he unfortunately chooses the first option.

"Babe, come on!" He looks away from the lasers that are practically coming out of your eyes. He knows deep down he's screwed.

"No, Vince! You fucking listen to me! You better be so fucking grateful that I leave first thing in the morning because I'd probably kill you if I didn't!" Lungs working overtime so you can get all of that out in one go. Vince still stands at the doorframe, he doesn't plan on moving anytime soon.

"Who is she?" The question leaves your mouth under a breath, afraid of the answer that might leave Vince's mouth.

"I'm not telling you that." It leaves Vince's mouth at lightning speed, but you move even faster. Your feet carry you rapidly to where Vince stands, once he's in arm's reach, your hands start hitting his chest. You switch between curling your hands into a fist and punching, to slapping his chest. Uncontrollable sobs leave the depths of your chest, and tears cloud your vision to the point where you can only make out the silhouette of the man you never would have thought would betray you.

"I lo-lo-loved you! An-and you d-d-do this to me?!" Your sobs interrupt your ability to say the sentence in one go. Your body finally begins to feel the heartbreak. Your chest and nostrils burn, your head finally starts to pound, and your legs start to feel like jelly. Letting the sobs control your body and legs giving out, you finally accept defeat.

Your eyes close and you start to drop to the ground, this is a fight you aren't going to win. You wait for your body to hit the ground but it never comes, instead you're met with Vince's damp hands on your arms. He steadies you, "Woah, hey there. You're okay I got you."

Wasting no time, you shove the 6'0 man off of you, and before he can say anything else you spit out, "Don't fucking touch me."

Vince puts his hands up in defeat, "Okay! okay, I won't." Following Vince's response, you dash your way to the front door. The professional hockey player follows hot in your trail.

"Hey hey hey! Where are you going?" He tries to grab a hold of your shoulder to turn you around, your reflexes do you wonder and you shove his hand with all the willpower you have left. Disregarding Vince's question, you take your purse and suitcase -which had been placed right next to the door after you finished packing before you got into bed.

"I'm staying at a hotel for the night." Exhaustion hits your body, a bed -not Vince's- sounds amazing right now.

"No, stay. You leave in the morning."

"I'd rather be in some cheap hotel than spend another night with you." The backhanded comment leaves the boy stunned, you take it as your chance to finally leave. You unlock the door and guide your suitcase to follow you out the door. Vince never intervenes. You don't even bother looking back when you slam the door in his face.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it doesn't dissipate until you're sat on a hotel bed. The mattress is hard, but you've gotten used to it when touring throughout your career. You take notice that the comforter won't do you any justice during the night but that isn't the first thing that's disappointed you today. Tears that stopped falling start to pour again, your chest aches and your heart feels like it's missing. You take a moment to finally acknowledge everything that had happened 25 minutes ago, and once you forcefully come to terms with it, you fall into a deep sleep. Not noticing the 64 missed calls and messages from Vince.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

I finished reading The Neon Void a while ago and it’s honestly became its own hyperfixation to me now!

And I’ve finally found the confidence too ask a question! >:D

How much does Senior Hueso know about what happened? Does he even know Leo is alive yet and what would be his reaction too finding out? :3

I can just imagine the turtles walking into the place with Leo, and Hueso turning around too great them only too get jumped scared be thier presumed dead brother!

Also how would Leo do in more populated areas similar to Senior Hueso’s place Run of the Mill? Would he be nervous or none the wiser about it?

(Sorry for the random questions! I offer very old fanart I really need too redraw, as a sacrifice to the void)

I LOVE HIM WHOA WHOA!!!! Thank you so much!!

And I have a lot of thoughts on Hueso!! I like to think that after the invasion attempt, and after Hueso learns what happened... He'll be dealing with his own grief too. After all, Leo was the guy who not only helped cleared his name and got him off the Hidden City's Most Wanted list, but he was also the guy who helped him reconnect with his estranged criminal brother AND helped him with local crime bosses who threatened the peace of his restaurant.

Whether intentional or not, and while it had been a lot of trouble at the time, Leo's actions had impacted Hueso's life drastically for the better. And when he hears what Leo did... Learns that he's gone... He'll be devastated. But more importantly, Leo's brothers were beyond hurt-- and they needed help more than ever before. Hueso knows how important Leo's brothers were to him, even if it had been a passing comment at the time of one of their adventures. After the invasion attempt, Hueso becomes one of the adult figures who turns his attention towards the children who saved the world... and needed the emotional support in the aftermath.

That being said, I purposefully made nods to Hueso at the ofrenda because I love to believe he helped the boys build it. Offering what little comfort he could in giving Mikey, Raph, Donnie, and everyone else, and a means of expressing grief. I sincerely believe that after the invasion attempt, the Hamatos were more than just customers to Hueso now. He'd always give them the care they deserved whenever they visited, though that was somewhat rare after the invasion. (I also like to think he'd catch Mikey at the ofrenda at times and send him home with special pizza pies.)

Though in Rise fashion it would be absolutely comical if Leo just. Showed up one day and scared the crap out of Hueso-- but I'd think that the boys would give Hueso a heads up prior to coming. (The emotional pain of Hueso being told but not believing until he sees Leo is far more delicious to me hehe)

As for how Leo would feel in a more populated place? well. hehe. ;3c

[lovelettersforthedamned]

PETER TAKING CARE OF DRUNK!READER PLS

You’re Drunk, And He’s In Love

--genre + trope: FLUFF, sfw.

--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x college!gn!reader

--word count: 0.9k

--warnings: mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, reader throws up (womp womp), the smallest angst ever (still wondering if angst is even in this...), FLUFF, peter loves reader so much!!!

A loud thump shocks Peter out of his relaxed state, the sound coming from downstairs. Knowing that no one is home, he makes his way out of his room. Ascending the stairs, he’s silent, waiting to see if he can hear the noise again. Hearing nothing, he twists the lock and pulls the fraternity’s front door open. 

A quick glance outside proves that there is nothing, but then he looks down. There you are, lying across the doorstep, a drunken smile written all across your face. Looking up through your eyelashes your eyes light up at the sight of your boyfriend, “Hi, Petey!”

He squats down to grasp under your arms. Pulling you up, he wonders where all this sudden dead weight came from. Once you’re standing (more like leaning), he finally greets you, “Hey, bug. What are you doing here?”

“I was at this party over there,” you point behind you, “and then…I realized that I’d be having way more fun with you, so…I walked over, and now I’m here!”

Throughout your rambling he closed the door behind you, starting to make his way up the stairs with you by his side. Following your last sentence, he stops dead in his tracks, “Wait, how far did you walk?”

“Uhh, I-I’m not sure…but, I made it,” your memory is spotty. If you were sober, you could’ve heard how Peter’s question was more serious than you realized. Oblivious, it passes over your head.  

He decides to let it go, choosing to focus on your current state, “C’mon let’s go to bed, bug.” Wobbly nodding your head, you follow Peter’s lead up the stairs and to his room. 

Falling back onto the familiar sheets of his bed, you mentally declare that this is heaven on earth. You bask in the feeling, even in your hazy state, you know for a fact that you want to stay here forever if you could. Your bliss is interrupted by a very cold cloth on your face. Apparently, your confusion is quite apparent in your features, as a breathy chuckle escapes Peter’s lips. 

“If I didn’t do this you would be so pissed at me in the morning. You don’t need to be angry and have a hangover,” Peter is quickly pleading his case as you open your eyes to see him bunch up a, now dirty, makeup wipe in his hands. Tossing it in the trash, he stands and makes his way to his dresser, rummaging through an extensive collection of shirts. When he finally finds one, he tosses it on the bed next to you, walking back to you shortly after to stand between your legs that have been hanging off the bed. 

He extends his hands towards you, even going so far as to wiggle his fingers, hoping that his actions will convince you to sit up, “Do you want to stay in your clothes, or do you want to actually get comfortable?”

You groan as you lift your arms up to grab his hands. As soon as you make contact with his touch, he wastes no time in pulling you up to meet his chest. Still holding your hands, he kneels down to start undoing your shoes. Now that you’re sitting up, the spins hit you, and they hit you hard. 

Peter has been looking down, working at your shoes when he feels a hand slap down on his shoulder. He looks up immediately, his face plagued with concern, “You alright, baby?” Your other hand rises to hold your mouth as you shake your head, and that is all Peter needs to rush you to his bathroom. 

The sight is far from pretty, but Peter doesn’t care. He’s holding your hair up with one hand as his other is making slow circles on your back, letting you spill tonight's contents into the toilet bowl. 

You haven’t been there for a long time. The feeling of nausea passes after a good five minutes. Originally Peter was just going to get you changed and bring you to bed, but now he knows that you need a hot shower to wash off the feeling of being sick from your mind and your body. 

He reaches over to flush the toilet before carefully lowering the toilet seat cover and pulling you off your knees to sit on the ceramic, brushing the tears that escaped your eyes off your warm cheeks, “Let’s get you in the shower, my love.”

Everything Peter does, he does it with care. Especially when it came to you. 

While in the shower with you, he knows that in the morning you’ll be extremely apologetic and embarrassed. But what he also knows is that he’d do that one hundred times again just to know that you’re safe. He can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t come to him tonight. It honestly scares the shit out of him at the thought of you being this vulnerable at a party, alone. 

He knows that you can handle yourself, there’s no doubt about it. He can see you brushing off your feelings just for the sake of not ruining the party. 

He almost prides himself in the thought of you feeling this comfortable around him, because there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you. So when you wake up and ask him to grab an Advil for your killer headache, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. 

--author's note: honestly, i love a good drunk!reader or drunk!peter fic. there's nothing like caring for someone despite their drunkenness. i keep writing everyone to be slightly sassy...LMAO. WHOOPSIE!!! thank you for liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my asks/inbox is opennnn, so send in requests if you feel like it babes. ok, bye ily<33