#i had to stop watching and pause because it made me so sad

[dragon-ascent]

Imagine being able to see people’s elemental aura. If they bear a vision, the energy around them takes the color of the corresponding element. So Pyro users have a burning red-orange energy flickering about them while Dendro wielders are draped in a calm deep green. Only you can see their aura, perhaps just a special (but mostly useless) gift you were born with.

Which is why when you start working for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and are introduced to Zhongli, you’re freaking out that you can’t tell anyone he’s actually the Geo Archon who is supposed to be dead.

Shimmering golden rays with a glare so intense they may just be exploding stars suspended in sunlight…yes, the aura around him is simply unmistakable. The Dendro Archon’s wavelength was of a similar intensity back when you attended the Sabzeruz festival. The appearance of the Raiden Shogun during Irodori had you beholding a similar feeling.

Zhongli’s every action only confirms it, not that confirmation was ever needed. His knowledge is too vast to be that of a young man, his mannerisms more ethereal than worldly, his gait steadier than stone.

Soon enough, he takes notice of the way you’re always so jittery around him – but he chalks it up to you being a naturally skittish thing. So he tries to alleviate your nerves by talking to you any chance he gets…not that that helps because his every word has you even more on edge.

“So true, bestie!” you blurt out after he’s told you something that’s gone in one ear and out the other. “Speaking of, isn’t it so sad that Rex Lapis is dead?”

Zhongli pauses, eyeing you curiously. “My dear, this is the third time this week you have brought up the topic of the Geo Lord’s death. Has it affected you so? Please take comfort in that He remains in all our hearts, watching over us common folk from the afterlife.”

He’s mocking me, I just know it! you think, your cheeks heating up as you try not to stare at the divine golden aura crackling around him.

One time, as (un)luck may have it, you accidentally bump into him and spill coffee on his beautiful suit. “Oh gods! Forgive me!” you wail, getting onto your knees. This time…this time he’ll certainly show you his godly wrath…maybe skewer you with his spear…or summon a fissure to swallow you…

But Zhongli is chuckling softly, dabbing at the stain with his lovely embroidered handkerchief. “Please do not fret, my friend. This is nothing a wash will not fix.”

You then insist you’ll cover the cost and get it cleaned, to which he eventually accedes. Holy…when he takes it off to reveal his cream-coloured shirt underneath, it’s like his aura gets even more blinding. It takes everything in you not to just throw yourself at his feet and sing his praises.

(How gorgeous he looks as he works the rest of the day with his coat off.)

He warmly invites you over to his place for tea when you come to return his coat, now cleaned; the house is as well-kept as he is. As night falls, the glow around him only strengthens in response. You can’t stop yourself from asking, mid-sip of your well-made tea:

“What’s Rex Lapis doing working a salaried job?”

[aimseytv]

laois touden, a canonically bad “room reader”

[mywritersmind]

TOUCH ME - LN4

summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.

listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!

word count : 747

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.

Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.

She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.

Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.

“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.

“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.

“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.

He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.

“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.

He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”

This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”

“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”

Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”

Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,

1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.

2. Lie.

Two seems safer.

“Of course not.” she shakes her head.

Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.

Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.

“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.

After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.

She jumped up and hugged him.

“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.

“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.

“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”

“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.

She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”

“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.

She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.

She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.

“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”

He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”

She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”

[queenpiranhadon]

"Daddy! Why are you sad?"

Satoru chuckles, ruffling his daughter's hair affectionately, scooping her up in his large hands and situating her on his lap.

"Aw...is my pumpkin concerned for Daddy? Don't worry kiddo, Daddy isn't sad- just..." he paused, thinking of the right word. "tired."

Your daughter pouts, cerulean eyes peering up to gaze into her father's. "You should buy a pony Daddy! That way you won't be sad!"

Satoru laughs in surprise. "A pony, huh? Maybe I will...but I don't think Mommy will let us."

"Mommy won't let you do what?" you say, coming up from behind the couch and lean over the back to see the situation, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Satoru, what propaganda are you teaching our child?"

"Daddy said you wouldn't let us buy a pony!" your daughter chirps and you stare at him incredulously.

"Absolutely not."

"But Mommy!"

"No!"

"C'mon sweetheart-"

"Stop enabling her!"

If he could, Satoru would have that memory tattooed to the inside of his brain, memorizing the way you laughed, your daughter's giddy face, the fuzzy domestic feeling in his heart, everything. If he could, Satoru would do anything in his power to feel that feeling again.

But he couldn't.

Because yet again, Satoru Gojo experiences one of the feelings he thought he left behind, all those years ago.

Grief.

It was during the war, when Satoru comes home late from a battle, only to find you lying on the cold tiled floor, in a pool of your own blood. In your arms, your 6 year old daughter, unconscious with a serious head injury.

A curse had come into your home in the middle on the night, and attacked you while he was gone. And Satoru wasn't there to protect you.

You didn't survive the encounter. You had lost far too much blood for the doctors to nurse you back to health, and your body was damaged beyond repair.

Your daughter was spared however. She was able to be nursed back to health, but her severe head injury gave her severe and permanent amnesia. She had no idea who you or Satoru was.

His own daughter- just…gone.

After that, Satoru just...broke.

He quit his teaching job at Jujutsu High, and left jujutsu society without a trace.

Satoru wasn't a stranger to hiding his true emotions, always masking any negative feelings behind the mask he'd worn for so many years.

But when you died, Satoru had died with you.

The Satoru Gojo of the physical world was nothing more than a hollow body with an empty heart, pain caused it to wither into nothing, as if it was never there.

"Why are you sad Daddy?" He could almost hear her say.

He's tired, he would say, like always.

But never why.

He was tired of watching his daughter grow up from afar, tired of not living a life with you at his side. Tired of waking up in a cold bed, in an empty house, far too big and lonely for him to live in by himself. Tired of being alone at night, consumed by nightmares and the suffocating feeling of grief and depression that overwhelmed him so much it hurt to breathe. Tired of not waking up to your kisses, your love, tired of not waking up to you, falling asleep with you, tired of not being with you.

How could he live without you? You the love of his life, his sweetheart, his everything. How could he live without you by his side, without the life you had made together? How could he watch his daughter grow up without you there to grow old with by his side?

The truth is- he couldn’t.

And Satoru knew that.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he'd be able to reunite with you again.

"You told me to buy a pony but all I wanted was you..." - Hidden in the Sand, Tally Hall.

A/N: This got really dark hahah...based on an idea I had last night

[nana-gumi]

devoted f.toji

pairings: fushiguro toji x fem! reader

cw: angst, divorce, mentions of bullying, death, mentions of abuse, starvation, bruises (megumi got into a fight), timeskip, not proofread

a/n: an alternative angst ending. enjoy :)

would everything be different if toji did not sign the divorce papers 7 years ago? everything would but everyone knew that it was already too late for that.

happy ending | alternate angst ending

"i'm back, my love." toji muttered as he wiped his hand on a certain graveyard showing a certain name as he placed white roses above it. today marked the death anniversary of toji's wife, megumi's mother. he didn't brought megumi with him though. he went alone.

"megumi's turning 6." he mumbled as if someone was around to listen to him. "i couldn't do it alone. before. i-" toji paused, gathering the courage to spill out the words he didn't want to utter. "i almost sold megumi.." he said as he sucked in a breath.

"i'm sorry i couldn't visit you for the past weeks." toji caressed the name with his thumb. he recalled the day he didn't leave the grave, even if it rained, he stayed there.

"i miss you." toji muttered. "so much." he added. "i don't know if i am doing things right." doing things right? but what exactly?

"i couldn't stop thinking of you in her." he mumbled as he balled his fist. "ahh, i'm so stupid."

toji leaned his back on the tombstone as he looked at the grass.

would you forgive him if he said the truth? that up until now, he still couldn't move on with his deceased wife.

he didn't even noticed the time as toji stood up from the ground, the sky turning dark when he came home.

-

"where have you been, toji?" you worriedly asked as you approached him but he stopped you by your shoulders. "i'm sorry about what i said last night." you said as you lowered your head. "i didn't mean to involve her again."

"can we talk about something?" he asked, dismissing your apologies as he looked at you.

"uh, sure?" you asked, chills running down your spine at the unfamiliar tone of his voice. it was— sad?

he sat from the couch as you followed.

"(name). you know that i love you right?" he said and you couldn't help but be nervous as you weakly nod. he loves you? you didn't know. "forgive me, (name)." he said as he intertwined his hands together. "because after all this time, i realized that—" he paused as he looked at you. and he just hoped he didn't. "i still couldn't move on." he mumbled, enough for you to hear it.

you gulped the lump in your throat as you sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

"it's okay and— i know." you said as you forced a smile.

"i'll let you go if you want." he said, but do you really want to?

"mh, maybe it's for the best, right?" you said as hummed.

"i'm sorry."

"don't be." you said as you stood up from the couch. "it'll be fine." if it is for your happiness. then it'll be. "well, i guess we'll push through the divorce?" you said.

it was a harsh decision. you both knew that, but maybe it was really for the best.

"you can come visit megumi. i'm sure he'll be glad to see you." he said as he smiled lightly.

"that would be good." you said, returning his smile.

-

was it really the right choice?

toji was vulnerable that night he came home. he didn't know if he really did made the right choice. now he had to deal with megumi's tantrums as they watch you leave.

"mama!" megumi cried as toji held him by his shoulders, restraining him from following you as you walked out of your home.

"mama will visit, 'gumi." you said as you waved him a goodbye.

"mama, don't leave please!" megumi yelled, trying to remove his father grip but it was useless. "mama!" he cried.

was it a coincidence that it started to rain heavily too? maybe the universe was crying with you.

megumi was already turning 13, but ever since you left, not a single day you payed him a visit. he barely remember your face, your voice as you lull him to sleep, you cookings. he missed it. he had to learn cooking at a very young age because you weren't around anymore.

at his age, he finally understood what happened to his father and his step-mother. it was a marriage where there was no love in it.

he was fooled by the people he loved the most.

megumi became distant to his father, and he believes you were a liar for promising that you'll visit him. he waited, and waited until he couldn't anymore.

everyone lied to him. his father did, you did and he thinks he couldn't just forgive you, not until you'll show yourself again.

-

toji was restless on their living room. megumi is still wasn't home. it was around 9pm in the clock when he heard a knock on the door, and once he opened it, instead of seeing his grumpy son, he was met with.. your youngest sister.

"toji zenin?" she asked as toji frowned.

"toji fushiguro." he corrected.

"well that's still the same. can i go inside?" she asked and toji hesitantly let her inside.

-

"here." your sister said, handing him a paper bag.

"what's this?" toji's asked with a raised eyebrow as he took the paper on his hand.

"my sister's belongings. you can keep it."

"why?"

"she wanted your son to have it. she said it's a gift from the birthdays she missed."

"why don't she give it herself?"

"could a dead person do that?" sarcasm was evident on your sisters voice when she said those words. "she—" your sister paused as she cleared her throat. "—died of heart failure." she continued.

he doesn't know what to say, not when your sister was on the verge of tears but she concealed it with a heavy sigh.

after several minutes, your sister took toji silence as the sign to go out but before she could leave the house she faced him again.

"i hope my sister's been good to your family." she said with now a sad tone, only to be met with a younger version of toji who was frozen at the door, band aids decorating his bruised face. she bowed at megumi and walked past him.

-

megumi took out all of the things inside the paper bag. there was a book with a dried purple rose in it, a polaroid, a picture frame of you and him when he was still in elementary and a two knitted scarfs with his and toji's name embroidered on it.

megumi failed to notice a certain birthday card on it. not until it flew down on the ground.

'happy birthday my 'gumi.'

it said on the front page.

"happy birthday megumi! i'm sorry i missed a lot of your birthdays. knowing you, you hate mama now, don't you? i'm sorry i couldn't keep my promise to visit. mama's been busy with a lot lot of things but don't worry, mama will visit you as soon as she can! i love you my baby."

love,

mama <3

-

toji heared loud footsteps from the stairs as he caught the scarf megumi just threw at him before it could hit his face.

"are you happy now?" megumi said as he clutched the dark blue knitted scarf on his hand, identical to ones he threw at his father a minute ago. "mama's dead now!" megumi exclaimed.

"this is all your fault." megumi said, his voice breaking as he clutched the scarf close to his chest. "if only.. if only you stopped mama from leaving."

and toji could only stay quiet, taking his son's anger all by himself.

-

"abused, isolated and was left starved. they didn't feed her for days until her body gave up." the police said.

"i thought she died from heart failure?"

"no. they kept her death a secret and it's been 2 years since mr. fushiguro, how did you found out about this case?"

"(name)'s my ex-wife. i only found out when her sister visited."

"i see. well that's understandable knowing that her death was kept from the public. but worry not, her parents was already in jail. that's the only information i could give you, mister."

-

"what did you want to talk about?" your sister said as she leaned her back on a wall.

"you lied, you said she died from a heart failure."

"that's what she wanted me to tell you." she sighed, placing her hands inside her pocket. both was quiet, none wanted to start speaking but both has a lot to say.

"i was very close to my sister and it hurts me to see her defend you from our parents." she said as she continues. "she suddenly came home saying that you wanted a divorce and our parents got mad. she was treated like a maid in our home. i couldn't do anything. i wanted to help her but she didn't want me to be in danger."

"my parents were furious because your family removed all of the connections they had together with my family and they blame my sister for it. did you found out?" your sister asked.

"found out what?"

"the only reason my parents asked your family to marry my sister was because of your company's money." toji kept quiet and your sister took this as the chance to continue. "my sister didn't want it but suddenly, she told me she was excited for the marriage. she told me that you were the boy she was looking for." she smiled as she recalled that day. "i don't think my sister agreed to marry you because of your company's money. my sister genuinely loved you, mr. zenin."

that was your parent's plan all along? he didn't even knew it because he thinks your sister was right, you really did loved him genuinely.

"i don't blame you for it, mr. zenin. but i just hoped that you didn't let my sister go home that night. maybe her fate would be different, maybe.. she's still alive until now. i didn't even know she was suffering from a heart disease." she said, muttering the last sentence as she chuckled bitterly.

"why didn't she reach out at me?" toji said, mainly asking himself.

"that's what i told her but my sister doesn't want to force herself to someone who threw her away." that sure hit a vein on his heart because in reality, he did threw you away.

"where was she buried?" toji asked.

"you wouldn't find it. she was cremated and i don't know where my parents took her ashes. maybe they even threw it somewhere."

-

toji went home with an aching body as he fell down on the couch.

your parents was already sent at the jail 3 months ago already. your sister was brave enough to tell the police after 2 years of your death.

he didn't know how many hours has it been as he went to his room, walking past his son's room but his instinct tells that something was wrong so he went to open the door of megumi's room, only to see shattered glasses everywhere, his study table and chair was destroyed, his computer also, as he find his son laying on the bed, with a scarf around him. the scarf you made him.

"megumi." toji called as he slightly shake his son and megumi jolted awake as he pushed his father.

"what are you doing here?" megumi rasped. "leave." he said, pointing at the door.

"i got a call from your school. you were bullying someone. is that true?"

"why does it matter to you?"

"megumi—"

"dad, i said leave."

"i'm sorry, son." toji said as he placed his palm on megumi's head, only for megumi to push it away. "papa— dad will take all the blame."

"you should." megumi said but his voice betrayed him. "i hate you."

"i know, i hate myself too." toji said as megumi looked up at him. "i regret everything 'gumi."

"stop calling me that, i'm not a kid anymore."

"yeah, sorry." toji said as he stood up from megumi's bed as he made his way at the door of his room.

" 'say sorry to your papa.' that's what would mama tell me if she's here right now." megumi said.

toji sighed as he finally opened the door.

"i'm sorry. i was just mad. i'm sorry, i didn't mean it. i don't blame you." megumi said but toji was already outside of his room as he closed the door.

he didn't deserve his son's apologies, he even deserved to be blamed because in the first place, all of this could've been prevented if he did not signed the divorce 7 years ago.

"what should i do, (name)?" he asked as if you were around as he fall on the ground as he leaned on the wall.

what should he do to make his son trust him again, he wanted to have the closure he had with his son when you were still living with them.

toji doesn't know what to do at this point, and instead of thinking about his first wife, he just hoped that you were beside him right now, telling him the things he should and shouldn't so megumi wouldn't hate him like how it was now.

he just hoped that you were beside him..

taglist: @xllizs

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Seen some posts about how it's a good idea to watch OFMD with non-fandom people and see what they think. Watched the first three eps with my parents and they had some great takes

My mom was righteously upset that Stede isn't wearing any fun outfits. "He must be so sad!"

She was also really sad that Ed crashed a wedding. "It didn't even look like a fun wedding," I said. "Yeah," she goes, "but what if that happened at my wedding? :((("

My dad said he didn't like the first episode and seemed really anxious the whole time. Upon prompting, it's because he's the biggest Lucius/Pete fan on earth and he was just upset Lucius wasn't there. "No wonder Pete was so grumpy!"

The wedding cake toppers actually made my mom cry. We had to pause the episode.

When Lucius showed up my dad literally jumped out of his chair like he was watching a sports game. I had to spoil them getting married because he would not stop asking me if they get married this season.

The biggest and most surprising thing is how much they, two old straight people, really loved the reunion mermaid scene. I'd been prepared for them to think it was too weird since it is so unapologetically sweet and camp and just queer. They fucking loved it and wouldn't stop talking about it. Just proves that forcing queer content to be sanitized "for the straights" is a pure nonsense.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

[4.5K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A/N: sorry, no advent blurb today as we’re v tired and v sick and writing doesn’t sound fun. but please have an old fic that was once on the masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, shy, nervous, wanting to curl into yourself.

Steve stayed still behind you, your back to his chest, his legs bent and framing your own. His hand stroked over your knee, a safe distance, one that didn’t add too much pressure to the situation. The boy pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose nudging your temple. “We can stop, if you want.” His voice was quiet and filled with soft sincerity. “It’s okay.”

But you’d asked for this, face flushed, squirming on Steve’s bed sheets ‘cause how on earth did you go from watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High to talking about sex to telling your best friend you’d never had an orgasm?

“What?” He’d asked, face soft with shock. “What about those six months you dated that guy, whatshisface? Liam?”

“Lewis,” you’d corrected, fingers pulling uncomfortably at the blanket Steve kept at the end of his bed for you. “And no, he just couldn’t get me there, I guess. Maybe it was me. It’s gotta be me, I can’t even make it happen myself.”

Steve had paused at that, looking at you with parted lips and soft eyes ‘cause you looked so sad, so frustrated, defeat taking over from the embarrassment you’d felt in admitting such a thing.

“It’s not you,” he’d said, determined. “He should’ve taken his time with you or— or, found out what you liked.”

You huffed out a laugh at that, humourless and tired. You shrugged, hands falling into your lap. “How’s that fair when I don’t even know what I like myself?”

You don’t know what happened after that. Just that the movie was paused and the evening outside turned to night, Steve’s blue room turning navy in the shadows, the dull glow of his bedside lamp making your bare legs turn apricot and rosy in the light. His hand looked so big against your knee, like he could swallow you whole.

You asked him. Voice quiet, words making the boy’s cheeks turn pink. Asked him to help, to show you, to tell you what you were doing wrong which sounded so ridiculous, because Jesus Christ, it was your body, for fuck sake.

You sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’m just— being stupid. We can keep going.”

You felt Steve relax a little behind you, his body sinking into the pile of pillows at his headboard, your body falling into his in turn. His thumb drew circles on the side of your knee, a touch you’d felt before: during a horror movie in the dark of the cinema, in the front seat of his car when you cried about a boy who wasn’t him, when he’d argued with his dad and you piled yourself into his lap for comfort.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispered and his voice was right by your ear, lips almost touching the shell of it. It made you shiver, spine tingling. “And you’re not stupid. This, the way you feel. It’s not stupid, okay?”

You realised he was waiting for you to answer him, so you nodded, chest tight at his earnest words, always trying to make you feel better. He’d once told you when you were both only thirteen, that that was his job and he’d proven it true ever since.

“Yeah, m’sure.” You let your head rest against his, cheek to his chin, day old stubble rough against your skin. “Thanks, Steve.”

A silence swept over you both, not exactly uncomfortable but not an easy one either, not like it usually was. ‘Cause your skirt was hitched up high, the hem of it falling towards the tops of your thighs when you’d bent your knees and sat between Steve’s legs. He’d patted the space there and your body had burned, but you’d obeyed all the same. His thumb was still rubbing circles and your hands lay awkwardly in your lap until finally, finally, Steve took them in his own and placed them flat over your thighs, his bigger ones covering your fingers.

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

“No,” you whispered it back, like a dirty secret. Something to be ashamed about. “Can't even manage it myself… it’s— fuck, I don’t know.” You choked off your own words, heated embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

Steve squeezed your hands, gentle, soothing. “S’okay. Do you, uh, do you try? A lot?”

He sounded nervous too and suddenly you were thankful for this position, eyes hidden from each other, knowing his cheeks would be flushed, too pretty to look at. You sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I guess. It’s just— I either get interrupted or it doesn’t feel right and then the times when it does, I just can’t… can’t. You know.”

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

“Okay, uh, why don’t you— do you wanna, try? Show me?” You heard him swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you felt his jaw tense against your temple, where you were leaning against him.

You stiffened, and Steve felt that too, so he tangled his fingers between your own and used his thumb and yours to skim up and down your legs. You wondered if he noticed how warm you were, if he realised you were running so much hotter than before.

“It’s just me,” he whispered to you, head ducked tucked down so he words fell into the crook of your neck. He sounded so soft, familiar, like the sixteen year old who’d picked you up from your shitty first date and told you that the next boy that hurt you would have to deal with him. “Do you trust me?”

You licked your bottom lip, mouth dry but you made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I trust you.” You felt his smile, felt the affection ripple through him and back into you, ‘cause you really, really did. More than anyone, you thought.

“We can stop whenever you want, alright?” Steve said and you bobbed your head, suddenly feeling clumsy, fingers too small between his own, legs splayed out like a broken down China doll. You dug your toes into the mattress and breathed out. “Show me.” Steve whispered again. “Show me what you do.”

It took a second, maybe five, for your heart to stop rattling against your chest, for your bones to stop vibrating. But you took one hand from Steve’s and pressed it between your thighs, hidden under your skirt. Your underwear was still very much on and you were unsure how to go about that, so you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find your clit the best you could under the cotton, shifting your fingers over the fabric.

Then Steve tsked, a soft sound that didn’t come across as reprimanding as it should’ve, but between that and his hand catching yours again, you stopped, unsure.

“You normally just dive right in like that?” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “Christ, you gotta be nicer to yourself, babe, you need to relax more.”

“I do?”

Steve laughed quietly, a huff of spearmint breath falling across your cheek and wasn’t unkind, it didn’t make you shrink like you thought it would’ve. “Well, yeah,” Steve answered. “You gotta warm yourself up, right? Get in the mood. Hasn’t anyone taken their time with you? Made you feel like, uh, like putty?”

“Putty?” Your lips kicked up at the corners, lashes fluttering as your eyes closed, happy to listen to Steve and the smile in his voice. He sounded shy, and it was lovely, it made you feel better, warmer, ready for what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “You know, all gooey n’shit. Nice. Relaxed.” Steve sucked in a breath and pressed your joined hands to your thigh, his so much wider and covering much more skin. “You’re real cute, babe, someone’s gotta treat you the same way.”

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to sound too sad about it, ‘cause Steve’s hand on your bare skin was starting to make you feel real nice, warm, just like he was describing. Except you were anything but relaxed, heartbeat a livewire racing through your bones, a new pulse thrumming, stomach jumping at each touch. “You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that, but suddenly, you were desperate to know.

“You kiddin’?” Steve said and you could hear the smile there, the one you knew so well. He leaned in, chin hooked over your shoulder when he felt you settle back against him, body more lax than before. His lips brushed your cheek when he spoke. “You’re the cutest girl in town, d’you not know that?”

You squirmed, too pleased with his comment but embarrassed all the same. Steve always gave you too much attention but it was the way it had always been, a little flirting over the diner table, his hand on the small of your back when you walked through too big crowds, an offered cheek for you to kiss goodbye when he dropped you home after school.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice thick and quiet and caught in your throat. You didn’t mean that. You didn’t want him to shut up at all. And Steve knew that.

“Now, if you’re the cutest thing in all of Hawkins,” he continued, emboldened by the way you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting your fingers go soft between his own. “Don’t you think you gotta be nice to yourself?”

Your breath stuttered and hitched in your chest and despite the nerves that still pinballed around in your stomach, your thighs dropped open a little, the hem of your skirt hitching higher still and Steve swallowed down a curse.

“I don’t think I know how.” It was embarrassing, admitting it, cheeks on fire, nose scrunched even though Steve couldn’t see.

His hands swept up your thighs, taking yours with them, stopping short of creeping under your skirt before retreating back down to your knees. “Like this,” the boy whispered. “See? Nice and sweet. Slow.”

You wanted to let your hands fall away, wanted to feel Steve’s rough fingertips and wide palms span over your skin but when you tried to pull away, Steve only tightened his grip. “Ah, ah, c’mon. You can’t learn if I do it for you.”

There was a whine stuck in your throat; a bratty, moody noise that you didn’t dare let out in fear of being teased by the boy for all of entirety but Steve seemed to sense your frustration anyway.

“C’mon, you got this.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to wherever he could reach, a warm smack of his lips against the skin under your ear, right by your jaw. “Relax, remember?”

So you did, letting out a small sigh before sinking back into him, legs widening and letting Steve drag your hands up and down your thighs, your skin erupting in goosebumps every time you felt a particularly rough graze of Steve’s short nails.

“What d’you think about?” He asked, voice hushed, almost hoarse. It sounded dirty, like a secret you weren’t supposed to tell anyone else about. “When you touch yourself? What d’you think about?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged, a gasp wrenching out from you when Steve moved your hands inwards, to the softer dough of your thighs, creeping higher and higher until you felt the cotton and lace edge of your underwear against your fingertips.

“I dunno,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. “Someone else, I guess. Someone’s fingers, instead of my own. Being— being kissed and their, their mouth. Lips. Tongues.”

If Steve’s hips twitched up into your own, you were sure you’d imagined it. But he took a second before he answered, nodding so his nose pressed into your cheek, his hair fell over your own.

“S’good,” he agreed, praising you like any teacher would. “What about their mouth, huh? Where d’you want it?”

You squirmed, face on fire, teeth chewing something rotten at your poor bottom lip and when you didn’t answer, Steve took your hand and placed it over your cunt, the cotton there suddenly more damp than it was before. You wanted to throw yourself out the window. Or worse, at Steve.

“Here?” The boy suggested. He wasn’t really touching you, just his hand over your wrist and fingers, guiding, pressing slightly. “Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the little whine that came out with it, disappointment colouring the sound. Steve tutted, cooing at you with sympathy and he let out a stuttered sigh when you took it upon yourself to press two fingers closer to your clit, seeking out some friction.

“That’s a real shame, you know that?” Steve’s hands left yours, only to grasp your waist and pull you back into him a little firmer and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel him, hard under his jeans, pressed into the bottom of your back.

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

“It is?” You were breathless, each word a huff of air, face screwed up and eyes shut tight as you tried to work out where you wanted your fingers the most.

“Fuck, yeah it’s a shame, babe.” Steve whispered. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re the sweetest girl there is. And someone’s not tasted you? Not told how sweet you really are?” Steve blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That’s just unfair.”

“Steve.” You weren't sure what you were whining your best friend's name for. For release? Permission? Guidance? All of the above, maybe.

But Steve seemed to know, ‘cause he nudged your hand closer to your cunt, coaxed you into running your fingers over your cotton covered folds. “Yeah?” He asked and his voice was hoarse, a little wrecked sounding. “Ready for more? Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, clumsy, breath coming out a little heavier than before.

Steve let one finger flirt with the edge of your underwear, along the lace trim where your cunt met your thigh and he snapped the elastic against you, feeling brave when you pressed back against him, like you couldn’t be close enough.

“Want these off?” You heard him swallow hard, sounding quieter than before. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can do whatever—”

You lifted your hips in answer, one hand holding onto Steve’s thigh for support as the other dragged down your underwear and your cheeks cringed with heat as you caught a glimpse of how wet the cotton was. You balled them into your fist, shoving them to the bottom of Steve’s bed and they lay there like a flashing neon sign, all lilac and buttercream coloured flowers, lacy and mortifying.

Your skirt still covered you, hiding a lot from Steve. But the boy could look over your shoulder and see the way your chest heaved, nipples pebbled underneath your T-shirt, the one you’d stolen from him freshman year and made into a crop top. You were all legs, soft thighs, socked feet digging into his duvet, skirt flirting dangerously with all that bare skin underneath. He tried not to rut up into you, but he knew you had to feel him by now, his hard cock pressed against your spine, twitching at every breathy noise you let out.

“What next?” You asked and you sounded desperate, more pent up than you’d ever felt before and you wondered if it was really because you were taking your time with it, if all these slow touches really worked. You wondered if it was Steve. “Should I just—?”

Your fingers dug into your thighs, sitting over your skin alone ‘cause Steve was gripping at his own knees, knuckles white on the denim. “Fuck,” his voice cracked. “Just, uh, do what feels good, yeah?”

You made a sound of protest, frustration spilling up and out of your throat because this is where it went wrong, fingers fumbling, unsure where to touch to be able to coax you over the edge.

“Hey, hey, s’alright,” Steve assured you, whispering again. “Give me your hand.”

You did, without hesitation, and together, with Steve’s fingers twisted between your own, he guided your touch underneath your skirt. You held your breath as you felt your own fingers - and the boy’s - slip between your folds, your legs parting automatically for him. You felt his breath hitch and fall over your cheek as you let out a tiny moan, urging him on, your fingers following his as he swept up and down your cunt, gathering up the slick there before pressing your middle finger to your clit.

“Yeah?” Steve asked and he sounded awed when you cried out, a soft grunt that made him see fucking God. “That good?”

You could barely speak. “Yeah,” you whispered on a breath, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder, giving Steve an unobstructed view down your front, to the way your hands could be seen between your thighs, skirt rucked up around them.

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

You did as you were told, adding your pointer finger to the mix, rubbing the two digits over your clit in soft circles, panting every time you felt Steve’s fingers slip between your own. Steve’s free hand was on your waist, a vice-like grip that you weren’t sure he was aware of, his palm on the strip of bare skin between your top and skirt. Every time you let out a shy noise, he squeezed, kneading at the dough there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw slack as he watched you work at yourself, never letting go of his hand and fuck, fuck, you were so wet, velvet heat under his touch.

“D’you use your fingers?” Steve asked you, lips against your cheek, both of you leaning into each other as if you were unable to help it. “Inside? Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

Twenty minutes ago, you would’ve died if the boy had asked you such a thing, but now? Now? Now you whined at it, cunt clenching around nothing at the idea of it and you shook your head, temple rubbing against Steve’s cheek in a way that killed him with how fond it was.

“Not really,” you whispered to him, ‘cause even with his fingers slipping over your clit, you were still so shy. “Don’t feel big enough, never- shit - never full enough.”

Steve swore his eyes rolled back into his skull, ‘cause all he could see was white, a blank flash over his vision that felt white hot. He rubbed soothing at your waist, let his fingers span over the width of your side, blunt nails sliding over your ribs. “Poor girl,” he sympathised and he smiled when you whined as he pulled your fingers away. “Shh, gimme a minute, hey? Here, just, try this, huh?”

You didn’t get to ask what he was meaning before the fingers that had been rubbing over your slick skin were in his mouth, two digits pressed to his tongue and Steve sucked. He licked over the pads, most definitely tasting you and you felt his chest rumble with a groan he tried to keep in. And then, as quick as it happened, it was over.

Steve brought your spit slick fingers back between your thighs, nudging the tips of them against your entrance. You keened, hips arching off the bed a little until Steve soothed you back down against him, mouthing over your jaw and cheek in a touch that definitely couldn’t be misconstrued as a kiss.

You sighed as you slid them in, two fingers fucking into yourself as deep as you could manage, slipping in easily with how insanely turned on you were. You hooked them up, like all the articles in the magazines you hid from your parents told you to do, searching for that spot that would apparently make you see stars. But you fell short, fingers not long enough and your clit was aching with neglect.

“Steve,” you felt close to tears, the usual frustration bubbling at the surface of your chest, ready to pop and simmer over. You’d have normally given up by now. “Steve, s’not working.”

“Gotta be patient, babe,” Steve assured you, “gotta be nice to yourself, c’mon, don’t let your head take over.”

But Steve saw the tear that rolled down your cheek and he caught your chin, titling your face towards him as he frowned down at you. You looked wrecked, heartbroken and all pent up, lips red and slick from where you’d chewed at them, eyes all glassy.

He shouldn’t have asked. But he was already in too deep. What does it matter now, right?

Right?

“Want me to help?”

He waited, one second, two, three and then you nodded, relief and disbelief filling his chest all at once. He swallowed back a broken moan and tapped his thumb at your chin, just catching your pouting bottom lip. “You gotta tell me, please?”

“Please, Steve, please. I want you to touch me.”

He’d died. He was dead.

But then you were pulling at his wrist and guiding it back between your legs, your fingers slick from where they’d been inside of yourself and Steve wasn’t sure he was able to handle it. His middle finger nudged up against your entrance and Steve felt it flutter, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was for you, not him.

He was rock fucking hard.

“Ready?” He asked in a last bid for confirmation. You were laying fully against him now, thighs pressed to his, skirt barely covering you and you nodded so furiously that Steve didn’t dare ask you to speak again. “Okay, I’ve got you, alright?”

His finger slid in so easily and you clenched around him, velvet heat that made his heart stutter and his cock kick up against your spine. You immediately felt the difference, the boy’s finger thicker and longer, already reaching parts of you that you’d never felt. You felt like you were going to burst.

“More?” Steve asked and his voice eas shot, eyes closing at the feel of you, your small hand wrapped around his wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop and Steve wanted to tell you he’d never stop if you didn’t want him to, that he’d do this every fucking day if you’d let him. “Another?”

“Another,” you agreed and god, you weren’t holding back anymore, moans tumbling from your lips when Steve slid another finger in with his first, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him making you both cry out.

Your hips were shifting against him, listing yourself on and off of his fingers and he groaned, stuttered dirty, filthy words into your hair as he let you fuck yourself down onto his didgits. The friction was too much for him, his cock straining in the denim, weeping for release.

“Touch yourself, babe,” he managed to groan out, sighing at the sight of you doing what he told, hand flying to your thighs so you could rub messy, wet fingers over your clit. “That’s it, good girl. Jesus, are you close? I can feel you - fucking hell - I can feel you getting tighter.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, a sob ripping through your chest and Steve decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask, deciding that he needed to get you out of your own head so your body could take over.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” He asked instead, a whisper against your ear, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers spanning upupup until they grazed the lace of your bra. You rutted against his hand harder, whining when he hit a deep spot inside of you, one that made your vision go blue-white. “You do, don’t you? My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had went down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Steve slid his fingers in and out of you a little faster to get his point across, sweating when you moaned his name. His name. Your own fingers were moving with intent now; tight concise circles that were making your toes curl.

“Would you let me do that? Huh?” Steve dared to asked, grinning when you almost ripped the sleeve off his shirt as you grabbed at his arm, lips falling open in a long moan. “Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.” Steve’s eyes closed for just a second at the thought of it. “Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look—”

You seized up, body stiffening as you let out a noise Steve would never forget, a breathy moan of his name that he’d think about every time he fisted his own cock. He kept pumping his fingers into you, eyes wide as your own hand faltered and you shook, head slumping back against his shoulder as you decided to hold onto him instead, hands reaching back to grab at his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

Your pussy was a vice around his fingers, filthy, wet sounds filling his bedroom and he was pretty damn sure but he had to ask, he had to know—

“You comin’, babe? Yeah?” You nodded, frantic, eyes slammed shut and nose scrunched up all cute and Steve couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. “Fucking hell, oh shit, yeah, there you go, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it—”

He wasn’t even ashamed that he came in his jeans like a teenager, in fact, he was a little insane with it. White spots over his vision as his cock twitched and jumped, letting his hips grind against your ass as you whined, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers as he slowed down the way they pumped in and out of you. He heard you swear when he finally pulled them away, slick with your release, sliding them into his mouth as if hiding the evidence.

Your eyes finally met Steve’s when you turned and flopped onto the bed next to him, mattress shifting as you both panting, chests heaving. He turned to find you already staring, eyes wide and cheeks flushed the prettiest colour, almost matching his own.

“Holy fucking shit,” you managed on a gasp.

“Told you,” he managed to say, fighting to keep the smile of his lips.

“What?” You frowned at him, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to you after that. He still looked like your best friend, still sounded like him too. Maybe just a little more smug. “Told me what?”

Steve took the time to push his finger into his mouth once more, enjoying the way your face burned, lips falling open as you watched, unblinking. He let his tongue wrap around it, chasing what was left of your taste until he let it go with a dirty pop.

“Sweetest girl in this fucking town,” he said.

[starkeysprincess]

Could you do reader x drew. She has not had the best experience with guys, been cheated on and left not feeling enough. Drew and her are just in the getting to know each other stage and have only been on a few dates. They do not have a claim on each other. He is away filming in Italy. She sees a video of him and Odessa where they are quite close and it looks wrong (it's not like that) and so she gets a bit sad and ends up not answering any of his texts or calls, deciding to just stop contact because appearntly he has an interest in someone else. Drew gets worried, and when filming is done a week or so later, he shows up at her apartment.

pairing: drew starkey x reader warnings: honestly just angst + fluff at the end word count: 833 a/n: angst + fluff aren't my strong suit so bare with me pls

main m.list ⟡ drew starkey m.list ⟡ taglist

Your relationship with Drew wasn’t exclusive since you were in the talking stage as the two of you had been getting to know each other for the past few months. You had gone on a few dates here and there when your schedules allowed you to and if you were being honest, he raised your expectations for how dates should be as each date was better than the previous. You knew what you were getting into when you started talking to the actor, knowing that his job required him to travel to different locations for projects that he was working on. 

He was currently away filming in Italy for his latest project, Queer. It was a bit difficult to find time to talk due to the time difference between Italy and Los Angeles but you and Drew made it work, even if you could only talk to each other for thirty minutes. 

You haven’t heard from him all day, assuming he was busy filming but as soon as you went onto Twitter, your feed was flooded with pictures and videos of him and Odessa in Italy, having lunch together, laughing as they talked. There were more videos of the two walking around together, her arm linked with his and you felt your heart sink. You knew you shouldn’t believe everything you saw on the internet but you couldn’t help it, especially when your past relationships always ended with you getting cheated on or your ex leaving you for another woman. 

It wasn’t till a few hours later that you would hear from Drew, who texted you and you wanted to answer him but you just couldn’t bring yourself to answer him because you figured he was more interested in her than you. You wanted him to be happy, even if that meant he was happier with her. This went on for a few days where you would ignore every text and call he sent, leaving him worried that something happened to you. There wasn’t a day where Drew didn’t text or call you, hoping you would answer but you never did. 

A week later, Drew was getting off his flight since filming was done for Queer, and his heart was set on seeing you and he found himself knocking on the door of your apartment. When you opened the door, you weren’t expecting to see him standing in front of you and his heart ached when he took in the sight of you, you looked like you had been crying. “Drew, what are you doing here?” you muttered, avoiding eye contact with him, “Wanted to see my favorite girl”. It was silent between the two of you for a few seconds before he spoke up, “I’ve been texting and calling you while I was gone”. 

“You never answered though and I was worried something happened to you” he added. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, “No, nothing happened to me, I just figured it was best I left you alone”. Your response left him feeling confused, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed, “Why would you think it was best if you left me alone?”. 

As soon as the words, “Figured it was best to let you focus on Odessa” left your mouth, he didn’t understand at first until he remembered the pictures and videos that went around with him and Odessa while he was away filming in Italy. “Odessa? Odessa and I are just friends, nothing more” Drew paused, “She was in Italy for the film she’s starring in and we ended up hanging out”.

He could sense your unsureness, “I remember you telling me about your past relationships when we talked about them and I meant every word when I said I would never do that to you. You don’t have to believe me but everything I’ve ever said to you came from my heart. I could and would never lie or take advantage of you. You were on my mind the entire time I was filming in Italy. I’ve caught myself saying your name during filming scenes with my co-star instead of yours”.

Your eyes drifted to his, making you look up at him, “I talked about you to her, you know? She said she had never seen me this happy before and she wanted to know who was making me so happy. I told her that she was right, this is the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s because I met you”.

His hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone, “I can’t imagine myself with anyone who isn’t you. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to be mine, I was ready to make you mine the first month of knowing you but I didn’t want to rush things, I wanted it to be perfect”. Your heart fluttered against your ribcage at his confession, “I don’t want anyone else, I want you and only you”.

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @annoyingassleo @starkeyisthelastname @strawberrydolly333 @fae-of-prey @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @hallecarey1 @kisses4angel @kisstaya @hyperfixationgirl @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @emilysuperswag @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @starkeysheart @rafecameroninterlude @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @spid6y @chimindity @nemesyaaa @starkeysbebe @spacexdrago @honeybunniesoobin @juniebugg @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsonlyaurelia @drudyslut @slumnit @ijustwanttoreadlols @stoned-writer @rafeinterlude

[sundrop-writes]

Protective

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

Summary:

During his first full moon, Isaac needs to think of something to ground him - to keep his newfound powers from getting out of control. Derek suggests that he use anger, and he knows that Scott grounds himself with his love for Allison.

Isaac finds something in between - thinking of the anger he feels when you get hurt.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 2,300

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: canon level violence - mentions of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd having to be chained up on the full moon (to avoid hurting themselves and others), mentions of Isaac's abusive father (somewhat graphic descriptions of the abuse that Isaac experienced); Isaac has a self deprecating inner monologue because of the psychological effects of his father's abuse; mentions of Isaac being injured by his father's abuse; the reader also has an abusive father and it's a point on which they related and bonded (and how they became such close friends); at one point the reader describes her abuse as being 'not as bad' as Isaac's abuse (but that is psychological trauma speaking); mentions of the reader experiencing physical and emotional abuse; reader is described as 'pretty girl' at one point in the fic (again, this is very self indulgent); Isaac has a crush on the reader but has never voiced it (it's implied that the reader feels the same way); Isaac and the reader exchange friendly physical affection; emotional angst - Isaac feels powerless for not being able to stop the reader's abuse; I think that's it for this short fic? The themes are on the darker side, but it comes from a personal place for me.

A/N: If you've been following me for any amount of time, then you know I have a thing for sad, abused characters. If you have read my Ellie fic 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind of Weapon' - then you would know why. Isaac is the kind of character I immediately connect to for deeply personal reasons, so watching the entirety of Teen Wolf through for the first time, I couldn't resist writing a fic about him. There will likely be more to come about him, but for now - here is this deeply self indulgent moment inspired by Season 2, Episode 9. If you don't relate to this, I hope you can enjoy it as a distant whumpy fiction, and if you can relate to it - I hope that Isaac can bring you some comfort like he has for me. Much love, happy reading.

...

While the chains rattled against the abandoned subway car and Isaac tried to ignore Erica’s groans of pain from having several large bolts bored into her head, he couldn’t help the question that was rattling around inside of him. 

“How do you do it?” Isaac asked Derek as he arranged the chains around his limbs. He was trying to push down the sickly familiarity of it - being restrained. He was trying to tell himself that it actually was for his own good this time, not just a sick punishment given to him by a powerless, unhinged old man. “How do you keep it under control?” 

“You have to find an anchor.” Derek told him, firm, determined. 

It was nice to focus on the conversation instead of the anxiety rising in his chest, so Isaac pressed on. 

“An anchor?” He questioned, unsure what Derek meant. “Like what?” 

“Yeah. Something else for you to focus on. For me it's anger.” Derek paused. “But it's not like that for everyone.” 

It was immediately obvious to Isaac who Derek was speaking of. 

“Scott.” 

He had Allison. It was some dreamy romantic bullshit - using his love for his girlfriend to keep from wolfing out. But apparently, it worked well for him. 

Derek gave a subtle nod. 

Isaac didn’t have anything like that. He didn’t have some cheesy romance to fall back onto. He didn’t have someone declaring a love for him so openly - because he wasn’t worth loving. Even with his father gone, the world had made it very clear that he was just a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe - a problem being passed around that nobody could seem to solve. 

“It just has to be something strong enough to keep your mind present. A strong feeling you can hold onto. Anger, love, resentment, regret, rage. Just find something that works for you.” 

Isaac nodded, and Derek went to check that Erica and Boyd were secure as the moonlight came to its full brightness. 

… 

It got Isaac thinking about you. 

You were probably the one person in his life who didn’t think he was a problem. The one person in his life who loved him, even if you didn’t say it out loud. 

He had felt all of those things - anger, love, resentment, regret, rage - the last time he had been with you. When he had been sitting in your bathroom, perched on the closed toilet seat lid after an argument with his father. Naturally, the argument had ended with Isaac having a black eye, and a large cut on his cheek from his father's ring colliding with his face. 

You were the only person he ever went to. No matter how bad things got, you were the only person he ever told. You were the only person who ever understood. Isaac had found out the hard way that your own father was much the same as his. On the first day of freshman year, he had seen you wearing a sweater when it had been a balmy, sunny day, and he had volunteered to be lab partners with you - partially to get closer to a pretty girl and partially because a gnawing feeling was going off in his stomach. 

Even back then - even when he was scrawny and powerless, his instinct to protect you had still been so strong. Even if all he could offer you was a shoulder to cry on and the chocolate bar out of his lunch, he looked at you and he felt the world turning on the simple hope that he could make your day just a bit better. Because he knew, even without words, by the tiredness in your eyes - that you suffered like he did. And he wanted so badly to make it better. 

When the two of you were doing an introductory experiment of baking soda and vinegar to cause the classic foaming volcanic reaction, the rubber gloves you had been wearing caused your sleeve to ride up, revealing a menacing purple bruise on your wrist. Isaac spotted it instantly, and when you locked eyes with him, he held nothing but deep understanding there - not shock or even pity. Nothing but deep understanding and warmth. 

He held your hand under the table for the rest of class, and you had never wanted to pull away. You felt a unique kind of mourning when the bell rang and you had to part ways. 

At lunch that day, you found him under the bleachers by the lacrosse field. Without so much as a word, only a cursory glance around to make sure that nobody else was watching, he pulled up his shirt, revealing an array of horrifying bruises to you - some purplish, some green, some faded yellow - all collected from different points throughout the summer. The time when he had been trapped at home with his father, having nowhere else to go as the man got more aggravated with his presence. 

You ran a gentle touch along the wounds - the most gentle touch he had been greeted with since his mother's death, something that easily brought him to tears. And from that moment on, the two of you had a silent understanding. You spent the rest of the lunch hour exchanging ‘war stories’ and laughing with a tainted dark humor about your separate twisted patriarchs. And the next time he was bloodied and bruised, he texted you to meet him under the bleachers in that same spot, and you didn’t hesitate to rush out of bed at three in the morning to get to him. 

It became a sacred place for the two of you to escape to when you needed it. 

The two of you became a sacred comfort to each other - knowing that there was little escape in telling the police or a guidance counselor, because you had nowhere else to go. 

Today, when Isaac called you, you found your house luckily empty. Your mother and your father were away visiting relatives in another state, so when Isaac told you that he needed you, you texted him the all clear to come over to your house for a reprieve. He was lucky to be able to spend the night somewhere else - to get to sleep in your bed, cuddled up close to you for comfort, without fear. 

He tried not to wince with pain as you dabbed disinfectant on the large cut across his cheek. He hated seeing you flinch with empathy every time his expression wavered even slightly. He could handle the pain. He could be better than this. 

“Isaac.” You sighed his name pitifully, clearly on the edge of tears. 

Both of you knew the thoughts that were pulsing thickly through your head, even without you having to speak them. 

Isaac didn’t deserve this. You wanted to hurt his father in return. You wished you could take away his pain, you wanted to help him escape from it. 

It was a ‘wishful thinking’ conversation that the two of you had dozens of times before. It always ended with you both more upset than when it started, so you swallowed up those thoughts now. But Isaac knew them too well, written across your face and swollen on your lips like the tears brimming your pretty eyes. 

You put down the cotton ball you had been using and turned your back to him, poorly hiding your crying as you stiffly wiped off your cheeks. 

“What do you want me to say?” He replied, hating that this whole thing had to upset you. “You know how it is.” 

To an extent, you didn't. Your father was a screamer. He yelled loud enough to shake the walls, but he rarely escalated to physical violence. You found that you were lucky if you escaped a fight with death threats and tears rather than having hands laid on you. Isaac came to school with fresh bruises every other week - you had to feel that he was worse off than you were. 

“We should just go.” You said, feeling bold in your suggestion. It felt obvious - escaping. “We should just run away. Get the hell away from all this.” 

You whipped back around, still feeling a terrible twinge of pain and sadness inside you at the bruising across his face, the fact that his cheek was definitely swelling up now. 

Isaac frowned. It was a nice dream, and he hated to be the one to dash right through it. 

“You know we can't do that.” Isaac sighed. Ever the realist. Of course. “Where the hell would we even go? With what money? No offense, but the couple hundred dollars you have saved up from babysitting isn't gonna get us anywhere.” 

“It's over fifteen-hundred.” You told him honestly. 

It was a nest egg that you had been sitting on since middle school, hoping to escape your father and never look back. When you met Isaac, you had another thing anchoring you to Beacon Hills, keeping you from buying the bus ticket you had always wanted. 

“But you're right. That'll get us - what? A couple of nights at a motel?” You let out a harsh, dry laugh. Trying to relieve some of the tension. “Well… we could go on a vacation? Escape for a few days?” You suggested, sounding hopeful. 

The idea of spending time alone with Isaac - a getaway where the two of you could pretend none of it was happening, even for a few days - it sounded like paradise. 

Isaac’s mind went to a dream-like vision - having you alone in a hotel room. A bed just for the two of you. Even just getting the chance to sleep peacefully with you, cuddle you, it sounded like a dream. 

He had to pull himself back before his mind went to places a friend shouldn’t stray. 

“A last hurrah before my dad kills me for running away on him.” Isaac sighed. 

The consequences of it would be inevitable. The two of you would have to come back home eventually. He knew that your father would likely feel much the same. He would never forgive himself if you ended up bruised and battered because of something he had encouraged you to do. 

You let out a sob then - the thought of Isaac dying by his father's hands had been all too real to you at times. A horror you imagined in your mind over and over again, especially after times he had come to you with half his torso nearly bruised black and he had been unable to move properly for days. His father was a monster, and you didn’t doubt that he would be capable of murder. 

Isaac rushed to stand up, and pulled you into a hug. His warmth, his arms surrounding you tightly - it was the only place you ever felt safe. You eagerly gripped him back, missing the wince he let out when you squeezed a bit too hard over one of his bruised ribs. But no - he would never fault you for holding onto him too tightly. 

Holding you like this - he felt like he had the world in his arms. Something tight in his chest, telling him that if anything ever happened to you, he would become the same kind of monster that his father was. But in the same way any threat to you made him boil over with rage - you made him gentle. You made him soft and loving. You were the only person in the world who made him feel okay to weep. 

He kissed the top of your head, not a stranger to comforting you with affection even though the two of you remained strictly as ‘friends’. As much as he yearned for more - you were a life vest while he was drowning and he wouldn't risk fucking that up just to kiss you and call you his girlfriend. He wouldn't throw any messy feelings into the mix. 

“It'll be okay.” He told you. 

Coming from his lips, you had to believe it. 

“Thank you, Isaac.” You sniffled. And then, something hit you. “You came over here for my help, and now you’re comforting me.” You let out another dry chuckle, clearly resisting the urge to scold yourself. 

“This is helping.” He told you, hugging you tighter. “This always helps.” He said the last part quieter, a dropped whisper that you could barely hear. 

It was a truth he was afraid to confront just yet. 

… 

But in the present, it was a truth that was helping him more than anything. 

Isaac hadn't spoken to you since he had gotten the Bite. He had been terrified of hurting you somehow. The last thing he ever wanted was to become the thing that you feared. It would have been his worst nightmare to be the one to make you cower in a corner and cry rather than to be the one giving you comfort from it. 

As the moon came to a full wane overhead, and the mighty rage and power pulsed through his veins, Isaac thought of you. He thought of using that power to tear apart anybody who had ever hurt you - to finally free you from those tears. He thought of giving you the same relief he had felt when his father died. He thought of his love for you, even if it was a silent love that he had never gotten the chance to voice. 

“I see you found your anchor.” Derek remarked to Isaac later, after he had gotten Erica and Boyd back in their chains, tightening Isaac’s binds once again, if only as a precaution. 

“I did.” 

Derek looked at him with intrigue, as if waiting for him to explain. 

“Well, you said that you use anger. And Scott uses love.” Isaac told him. “I guess that mine is… some combination of both.” 

“Protectiveness.” Derek explained. “That's what wolves call it.”

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, and I wrote this to be a closed off story/its own little moment inspired by the show. This is a complete story, however, if there is enough interest, I might turn this concept into a longer oneshot and expand on the idea. It would not be me writing a 'part 2' of this, it would be me using this concept and writing a longer oneshot. I do have a personal vested interest in writing about powerful characters defeating abusers, but currently I don't have the time to turn this into something longer, so this is all I wrote. Please do not harass me about making this longer or posting something more, and if you're going to leave a comment asking for a continuation, please also tell me what you liked about this current story. Though I have something else in mind, I do consider this to be a completed story on its own.

[leviraaaaaa]

Bad ideas

Bad idea.

The thought echoed in your mind as you watched him, your heart racing despite the voice of reason screaming for you to look away. Your mind was listing all the reasons why you can't, you shouldn't. Your heart ignored it all.

Bad, bad ideas.

look away look away look away

You couldn't.

Levi sat next to you on the sofa, blissfully unaware of the chaos in your head. He was casually holding a beer can in that strange way he did, fingers gripping the top edge of it.

Was it strange that you found it attractive? You wondered how mortified he would be if he knew.

You shook your head, trying to snap out of it. But it felt different. Tonight.

How had you even ended up here?

You remembered showing up at Levi’s door just a few hours earlier, a plastic bag filled with cheap alcohol in hand. Your original intention was to consume them yourself, to drown your sorrows alone, to escape the whirlwind of emotions left in the wake of the disastrous expedition of today. But for whatever reason, you had sought him out instead. Your mind was restless and you knew Levi's were too.

He would understand. He always did.

So when Levi opened the door with a scowl on his face, you'd blurted it out without thinking.

“Wanna drink with me?”

He had blinked, confused, eyeing the bag then looking back at you.

“...I don't think you're supposed to be drinking.” He said after a moment, tone blunt but not unkind.

You had shaken your head. “Trust me,” You replied. “I do. And I think you do too.”

And that had been that. After a pause, Levi let out a soft grunt of acknowledgment, stepping aside to let you in. “Couldn’t you find someone else?” he’d muttered, but he didn’t push you away.

Hours slipped by in a blur. One bottle turned into another, and you found yourself ranting about everything: Erwin’s decisions. The bloodshed. The guilt. You unleashed every ounce of anger, resentment and guilt you held in your heart, complaining to him about every single thing you could find to complain about. The more you went through the bottles and the more the night fell, the more drunk you became, the less it was starting to be actually connected to what you were here for and more about the silly concerns and irritations of something only a drunk person would care about.

Levi sat quietly through it all, never once interrupting but always present, always listening. That was the thing about Levi—he didn’t talk much, but when he did, his words meant something. And when he didn’t, it wasn’t because he wasn’t paying attention.

But now you were here.

Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. You’d stopped talking a while ago, and Levi hadn’t moved. The quiet was suffocating, and your thoughts—dangerous, forbidden thoughts—were growing louder by the second. A part of you knew that this was not where you should be.

But it felt so different.

The thoughts were getting louder. Strange thoughts. Thoughts about the man beside you, thoughts you'd usually fight against, now impossible to ignore as you struggled to find something, anything to occupy your mind and anything to deny the unwilling confessions your heart was now whispering to you.

You weren't sober. And being here, with Levi, while incapacitated was a very dangerous gamble you had made tonight.

Why were you here, really? You thought. Why Levi?

“Couldn’t you find someone else?” He had asked.

Couldn't you? Weren't there other options?

So, why were you really here?

How were you supposed tell him that you.. just wanted to be with him a little?

Levi wasn't one to let people in. So you took what you got. Groans, grumbles, those snappy little remarks, you'd take it all. If that just means you got to spend a few hours with him. But how could you tell him that?

It was an excuse, you knew. You could drink alone; you didn't need someone else. All of it was an excuse you made yourself to justify this irrational yearning to be with him for a little while. Because you knew he wouldn't turn you away, not when you were sad.

Friends, the remnants of rationality insisted. You and Levi were just friends. So you have been for many years. That's what you were. And that's why you wanted to be close to him. That's why you seeked him. Because it was a rough day. Because he's a good listener. That's what friends do.

Friends.

Are friends supposed to have thoughts you had right now? Friends, so why did your heart race the way it was?

You were losing the battle you’ve been fighting for years. Every inch of you was warning you. These were bad, bad ideas, and it could ruin everything. Everything you've worked for. Not many could call Levi Ackerman their friend. You could. That's enough. That should be enough.

But it was happening so fast. With every passing moment, the less sober you were becoming and you really, really shouldn't be here at all.

But how could you not?

You stared at him blankly. He wasn't looking at you, blankly staring somewhere in the distance. He looked relaxed. More relaxed than you've ever seen him. His usual sharp, steely eyes half-lidded, his dark hair falling messily over his forhead. There was a faint flush on his pale cheeks and there, just there you saw the barest glimpse of vulnerability. He looked so soft, so unlike the hardened soldier you've always seen him to be.

God, he was so pretty. Always.

Now that you thought of it, you think you'd fallen the first time you've met him. It was so easy to.

He was a grumpy little asshole, a storm of contradictions—sharp-tongued and distant, yet in his quiet moments, so deeply, unshakably kind. You yearned to touch him. If he'd let you. If he only let you.

But boundaries. You dared not.

Still, staring at him, drunk and dazed, you think you just might.

You just might.

"... Lev?" You whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Levi stirred, coming back from his thoughts. He frowns, turning to glance at you. "Yeah?"

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. Why did you call him? Why were you doing this?

"Levi." You repeated. Did he know how much you loved his name? He notices it, you can tell, the tremor in your voice, one you couldn’t hide. His gaze sharpens, though the confusion lingers.

"...what?"

He set the drink down, focusing entirely on you now, a hint hint of concern flickering in his usually blank expression.

“I’m going to do something, Levi,” you muttered quietly, your heart pounding in your chest. “And you can’t get mad, okay?”

Now or never. Now or never. Your heart chanted quietly. Before the liquid courage dies down.

Levi leaned back almost instinctively, looking down at you with narrowed gray eyes. “That depends,” he replied, “Are you going to throw up on me?”

"No," you answered, “No, Levi.”

But just as you leaned in closer, your breath catching in your throat, you see his expression change. His eyes widen, just a fraction, and you realize that he knows. He knows what you were about to do. You see the exact moment it hit him.

There’s no going back now.

You close the gap between you in one swift, desperate motion, pressing your lips against his. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen. You think you’ve ruined everything. But then, as if time itself stops, Levi responds. His lips part against yours, tentative but warm, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Because this? This was everything.

You had spent days wondering how they'd feel but you had never thought of this. His lips were so soft, so plush against yours. So warm, he was pouring liquid heat into your mouth and holy fuck Levi Ackerman was kissing you. His hands were on you—gripping your arms, pulling you in. He was kissing you like he had been waiting forever. Like it was everything he couldn't say and he needed you to understand. Like he couldn't breathe and you're the only source of air.

Levi Ackerman was kissing you.

Holy fuck.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, and you jerked back, gasping for air. The world spun around you, the gravity of what just happened crashing down hard. You sat there for a heartbeat, pulse thundering in your ears, waiting for him to say something—anything. But he just stared at you, wide-eyed, his chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted through hell. Disbelief and confusion carved into his sharp features.

What had you done?

“I should go,” you muttered, the words barely audible, more to yourself than to him. “I'm so sorry, I should go.”

But just as you began to turn away, he stopped you with a single, rough whisper.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, you fucking coward.”

Then his lips were crashing back onto yours and you were gone.

There was no going back now.

[badkitty3000]

there wouldnt be any way u wld write a slightly sub five fic like you did with him and vivi? .... :)))

Ask and you shall receive! In this one, you and Five are working as trained assassins and you're not exactly happy with him. Enjoy! 😽

Coercion

Five x Reader One-shot, 5,202 words

Warnings: Smut, light bondage (very light), light dom/sub, oral sex

If Five noticed your silent treatment on the drive over to the crappy motel, he hadn’t let on. You waited with increasing irritation as he took his sweet time getting the room key out and opening the door. If you weren’t set on not talking to him, you would have not-so-gently reminded him that he didn’t need a damn key in the first place, but you let him struggle instead. Once he opened the door for you, you pushed past him and threw your bag and rifle case on the one sad and saggy double bed in the room. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking around with a scowl.

“This place is a dump.”

Five shrugged, setting his own bags down on the floor and shrugging his suit jacket off before placing it on the back of the one chair provided.

“It’s not great, I’ll admit, but could be worse.”

His casual tone told you he had not, indeed, picked up on your anger. As you stood there, glaring daggers in his direction, he finally looked up and had the nerve to act surprised.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

You put your hands on your hips. “You want to tell me what the hell that was back there?”

Five balked, the innocent look on his face aggravating you even more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

With a loud huff, you turned to start unpacking your bag. “Of course you don’t.”

There was a pause and then Five sighed. “Well, are you going to tell me what you’re mad about, or do I have to start guessing?”

“You seriously don’t know?” you asked, spinning to face him.

He shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets in that way that told you he was starting to get fed up with your passive-aggressiveness. “No, I seriously don’t know.”

You gestured in the vague direction of the door, indicating the outside world you’d just come in from. “Out there. When you literally pushed me out of the way and took my shot.”

Five rolled his eyes and sighed. “That? You’re mad about that?”

“You knocked me on the ground!”

“I helped you back up,” he said with a smirk.

You made a frustrated growling noise and clenched your fists together. “That’s not the point! You’re supposed to be my partner! You’re supposed to support me! I had the fucking shot!”

Five hung his head and then looked back up with a grin that you immediately wanted to smack off his face. He walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, cocking his head to the side in a condescending way.

“As your long-suffering partner, of course I support you 100%. But I’m not going to sit there and watch you make an error that could get you or both of us killed.”

You scowled up at him and shook yourself free from his grasp. “That’s a bunch of horse shit and you know it! I had that shot set up perfectly. Just because you can’t handle a little competition does not mean you get to just shove me out of the way like that.”

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes again. “You did not have it set up perfectly. You would have missed.”

“I would not have,” you spat back between clenched teeth.

“With the way you were aiming and the fact that you hadn’t accounted for wind trajectory and velocity, you absolutely would have missed.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Of course, I factored in the wind trajectory! What do you think I am, a moron?”

“Of course I don’t. Stop being so dramatic.”

“That’s it,” you snapped, turning back to your bag on the bed. “I’ve had enough. I’m asking for a new partner when we get back.”

“Oh, is that right? You’re just going to waltz in there and ask for a new partner?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Because whoever else they can pair me up with has to be better than someone that can’t possibly admit when they’re wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” Five nodded. “You going to ask for a new husband, too, while you’re at it?”

“Maybe I will!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darling.”

A few seconds passed and you felt his arms wrap around your middle from behind. He rubbed his face into your hair and kissed your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, not in the least bit convincingly, and you could feel the smile on his face.

“I don’t think you are.”

He moved your hair away from your neck and kissed the side. “I’m so very, very sorry. And if you come join me in the shower, I can show you how sorry I am.”

You closed your eyes and held your breath for a few seconds before letting it out in a loud exhale. He always knew how to get to you. And how to make you weak for him. But this time you were not going to give in. You were still too pissed.

“No, thank you,” you responded brusquely.

You felt that smirk against your neck again, before he moved down to your collarbone, using his teeth to very gently scrape across it over your shirt. Your mouth pressed together in a straight line as you tried not to give in.

“Please, sweetheart. You know you can’t stay mad at me,” Five mumbled against your neck. “Especially when I saved your life.”

“RAHHH!” You yelled, turning around so quickly that Five stumbled backward in surprise. “You did not save my life or anyone else’s! I had the shot!”

Five ran a hand down his face. “Ok, honey, you had the shot. I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about. Can we move on?”

As you stared at him with rage, you had to remind yourself that you really did love him. He was your husband after all, and it’s not like this is the first time his arrogance had created a rift between you two. And he was right when he said you couldn’t stay mad at him. You knew damn well it was just a matter of hours (probably less) before you’d give in and he’d have you on your back, moaning and crying for him, after accepting his half-ass apology and letting him make it up to you. Because, fuck, he really did know how to make you forget why you were mad at him in the first place.

Even though you were not ready to forgive him quite yet, you couldn’t help looking over his body, and the way that tailored suit fit him just right. Other married couples you knew had lost that lust for each other over the years. But not you two. It was usually part of your work routine to come back to your shithole motel after a day of hard-earned assassinations, and not be able to get one another’s clothes off fast enough. There was something about a loud and rough post-kill fuck that neither of you could get enough of.

You saw that flicker of amusement behind his eyes and a tiny bit of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, and you decided you really were still mad at him. But that anger was turning into something else. Something you could possibly use to your advantage.

Taking a few steps forward, you grabbed his tie in your fist and pulled him roughly into you. “We can absolutely move on. But here’s the thing. I’m still not buying your apology, so you can drop that little act. I do, however, have a way you can make it up to me.”

Five smiled. “And what’s that, love?”

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” You tugged harder on his tie. “Now.”

Five raised an eyebrow. He was not used to being ordered around in the bedroom, or anywhere else, for that matter. He did the ordering. You waited to see his reaction.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out if he wanted to play along or counter with his own demands. And truth be told, you’d probably give in immediately if he took charge like usual.

He gave a small nod of assent and you let go of the tie. He sat on the side of the bed and waited for you to direct him.

“Lie down,” you instructed.

Five did as he was told, lying down on the bed, stretched out on his back. That small, smart-ass smile was creeping back again and it was only fueling your desire to dominate him.

You shoved the bag and your gear off the bed and climbed on. You were still dressed in your own matching suit, although yours was fitted and tailored for a woman. Your shoes were kicked off and you threw your blazer to the side and ripped off your tie. Then you straddled Five’s thighs and looked down on him with an overly sweet smile.

“You are all mine, now. Isn’t that right, darling?” you said, using his usual pet name for you.

Five paused but nodded slowly again. “Yes.”

“And you’re going to let me use you however I want to, right?”

His eyebrows creased together and his mouth opened partially. You figured this would be where he would protest. To your surprise, he didn’t. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Such a good boy,” you praised, cocking your head to the side. “But, you know…I just don’t trust you. I think I need a little more assurance that you’re going to stay put.” You dropped the fake smile. “Hands over your head.”

Five hesitated only for a second before he stretched his arms over his head so that his hands were close to the headboard. You scooted your body up a little and grabbed his tie, unknotting it and pulling it out from the collar of his shirt. Wrapping the tie around his wrists and securing it to the headboard, you made sure to make the knot extra tight. You knew, of course, that Five had the same training you did and could easily get out of his restraint. Not to mention his handy superpowers that meant he was nearly impossible to imprison.

He pulled against the tie, but it was secure. He shook his head. “You do have amazing knot-tying skills, my love, but you do know I can just blink out of this, right?”

Of course you knew that, but you just looked down on him with an amused smile. “I don’t think you’ll be doing that.”

“And why not?”

“Because if you do, then you’re not going to be getting anywhere near this pussy tonight. And I know that’s what you’re dying for.”

You gave a little push against his groin while you were straddling him and he groaned quietly.

“So, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to do everything I say. I get to decide when you’re going to eat me and if or when I’m going to use that big cock of yours. And I don’t really care how you get off, but you better make sure I come first. Understand?”

“Yes,” Five said softly, licking his lips.

With your thighs still hugging either side of his waist, you started to unbutton your shirt, exposing your tits that were spilling over the white lace bra you were wearing. You knew Five loved this bra. He had picked it out for you. And he liked you in white because he liked knowing his assassin wife was dressed like an angel underneath her blood-stained clothes. You were a ruthless killer, just like him, but he knew the real you. Inside you were pure and you loved him unconditionally.

You were still going to torture the hell out of him, though.

Throwing your shirt off to the side, you let him have a good look at you while you ran your hands up your sides and onto your breasts. You squeezed them together and rubbed the tips of your fingers over your hardened nipples. You looked him directly in the eyes and traced your bottom lip with your tongue. Five groaned and you felt his dick come to life under you. When you ground down onto him, he let out another gravelly noise and pushed his hips up; his cock becoming fully hard.

You leaned down and kissed his mouth, pausing to bite at his bottom lip with your teeth before pulling away. His breath began to quicken as you unbuttoned his white dress shirt, tugging the bottom out of his pants and opening it to reveal his chiseled torso. You made a soft whimpering sound and slid the palms of your hands down his chest, over his stomach, and down to his waist. Your hair brushed over his skin as you leaned down to place a line of teasing kisses down his body, starting at his neck and traveling down to his navel. You could taste the salt from his skin and smell his familiar scent that you couldn’t get enough of.

“Oh, Five…do you know how hot you are? The things I want to do to you?”

“Do anything you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he breathed out.

You gave a small shake of your head, like you couldn’t believe he was already acting up for you, and then placed a light slap onto his cheek. “No talking unless I say so. Just lay there and look pretty for me, ok honey?”

Five gave a short laugh, but he shut up and didn’t say anything else. He shifted his body under you and you gave him a squeeze with your thighs. He was all laid out there for you, shirt open and his hands tied behind his head. Usually, you would be the one pinned underneath him, writhing in anticipation. Now things were totally in your control.

After one more aggressive roll of your hips into his, you climbed off the bed to undress yourself the rest of the way. Five watched each movement you made and when you were down to just your white, sheer panties that matched your bra, you smiled when he pulled at the tie again in frustration.

You liked to tease him, but you also had a few other plans in mind, and for that, you needed to be fully nude. Making sure he was watching closely, you shimmied out of your panties and stripped your bra off. Once you were naked, with Five practically salivating at the sight of you, you climbed back on top of him.

You rubbed yourself against his hard cock, trapped beneath the fine material of his dress pants. The firm bulge slid between your legs, adding a delicious amount of friction as you rocked your hips against him a few times. Five closed his eyes and let out a low groan.

“So hard for me already.” You pushed yourself down and he grunted. “I like that.” You tilted your head to the side as you continued to work him over, letting him watch as you humped his clothed cock; grinding down until you were sure it was a mixture of pleasure and pain for him. He hissed through gritted teeth and closed his eyes.

Taking a little bit of pity on the poor old man, and also not wanting to risk the chance that he may just come in his pants, you stopped gyrating on top of him. You moved down a little so that you could have access to the fly of his pants. You slowly unzipped his fly before shoving your hand in, cupping his balls through his boxers, and rubbing your palm over his erection. He was clearly trying to restrain himself, but you could see the way he desperately wanted more. His hips pushed up into your hand as he swallowed hard and sucked in a loud breath.

Five’s head fell back as you pulled his pants and underwear off, leaving them in a pile on the floor with the rest of your clothes. He was left in just his open dress shirt and nothing else, his arms stretched over his head and his hands bound to the headboard. It was the sexiest fucking sight you’d ever seen.

You were on top of him again, this time avoiding the urge to rub yourself on his dick, even though it was tempting as hell. But you wanted him to squirm a little bit more. Instead, you leaned down and kissed him roughly on the mouth, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling hard. Your tongue slipped inside and you sucked at his lips, devouring him. When you gave a severe bite to his lower lip, he winced and jerked against his restraints. You dragged your tongue across, licking up the few drops of blood that had seeped out. Your breath was ragged and loud as you sat back again.

“Sorry, baby,” you breathed out. “I got a little carried away because you’re just so fucking gorgeous. You ok?”

Five looked up at you, breathing hard as one side of his mouth turned up, accentuating the dimple on the side of his cheek. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, licking at the blood, and nodded.  

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. Because I have plans for that beautiful mouth of yours.”

With that as your warning, you crept up his body until his face was between your legs. On your knees, you grabbed onto the top of the headboard. He couldn’t hold onto you, or adjust his body too much underneath you, but you lowered yourself until you could feel his hot mouth against your wet and aching sex.

Five knew what you liked and how you liked it. He knew how to work you over with his lips and tongue. He moaned into you as he dragged his warm tongue up through your slit, tasting all of you. You whined loudly as you tipped your head back, closing your eyes. Everything felt so damn good; his tongue flicking at your clit, the warm wetness of his mouth as it completely engulfed you, and the stubble from his five o’clock shadow scratching your inner thighs. It was hard to hold back. You wanted to push down harder and start riding his face. As you grasped onto the headboard, you let out a high-pitched noise of frustrated restraint, allowing yourself to thrust onto him a few times before letting up again. After all, you didn’t want to suffocate the poor man. But fuck, it was incredible, and he was slowly driving you insane.

Five hummed, the noise muffled by the constant grinding of your dripping cunt against his mouth.

“Five…oh my god…” you groaned out. “You’re doing so good for me, baby…so fucking good.”

If you had a little bit more clarity about you, you may have noticed him laughing briefly before sucking and licking at you again. He wasn’t missing the irony of you using his usual comments of praise on him.

As you were lost in your own little paradise, you could feel him pushing his hips up, desperate for some sort of contact. You had hardly paid much attention to his cock yet, and he was starting to become a little desperate. You smiled down at him, still rolling your hips against his face.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Keep going just a little longer, ok? Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You almost laughed at yourself. You really could not believe he was letting you get away with this. You expected him to blink out of his restraints at any second, appearing behind you before fucking you ferociously, all while reminding you who was really in charge. Instead, he continued letting you call the shots. And he sure as hell didn’t seem to be minding it.

Reaching behind you, you gave him one slow stroke up his hard shaft, making him momentarily lose concentration.

“Oh, fuuuck…” he groaned out. The words vibrated against you and you followed it with your own moan.

Which gave you an idea. You climbed off of Five’s face, letting him get in a couple of good gulps of air, while you repositioned yourself over him again; this time facing the opposite direction. You leaned forward, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a teasing lick around the head. When he made another desperate noise, you could feel the exhale of his breath against your wet pussy as you hovered over him.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, baby? Would that feel good?” you asked sweetly, giving it another lick up the side.

You felt another hiss of air against your skin. “God, yes,” he breathed out.

“Alright, I can do that for you. But you better keep eating me out, because if you stop, I stop. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he whined and you smirked at his obvious need.

When your lips wrapped around his girth and slid down the shaft, slowly and deliberately, his hips thrust up into your face, making you swallow the entire thing, the head driving down your throat. As you began to gag and pull back, he relaxed back onto the bed. You removed your mouth and glanced back over your shoulder.

“If you do that again, you’re not going to get anything at all. So hold. Still,” you warned, squeezing his dick slightly just to remind him who was calling the shots.

There was a quiet huff of frustration, but he didn’t argue. When your mouth was back on him, he kept still, just like you instructed. You felt his tongue flick inside of your dripping hole as he lapped into you and you pushed your backside into him again. As long as he continued to mouth fuck you how you wanted, you continued to suck his dick. It was hard to concentrate and every time he moaned, you did it back in response because it made it that much hotter. The longer you worked his cock over, and the longer he ate you out, the more you wanted to feel him inside you.

Taking your mouth off of him, you moved again, turning around so you were facing him, kneeling between his legs. Five’s mouth was red and swollen, glistening and wet. His chest was heaving with the effort of trying to catch his breath after you were sitting on his face and from the amazing blow job you had just been giving him. You were panting, too, and you ran your hands down his torso as you started to straddle his waist. When you leaned down to kiss him, you grabbed his hair in your fist and pulled his head back.

“God, I love you, Five,” you snarled, before you were back to kissing him roughly again, sliding your tongue inside.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he groaned against your lips.

“I want to fuck you so badly right now. Do you want that? Want to sink your rock-hard cock into my tight hole that’s only for you?”

Five nodded, looking into your eyes with the desperation of a man who was on the edge. “Shit, yes, baby…I want you to fuck me.”

You pulled your mouth to the side and shook your head. You lined yourself up with his dick, rubbing your wet slit up and down, making him suck in a loud breath and close his eyes.

“Before I let that delicious dick inside, I need one more little thing from you, ok?”

He nodded slowly again, trying to thrust up into you, but you held tight. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just…god damn it…what is it?”

You leaned in close to his face, your mouth less than an inch from his, and you grinned wickedly. “Admit I had the shot.”

Five was silent as he took that in, but his eyebrows furrowed together. “Excuse me?”

You tugged at his hair again and slid your slick folds over his shaft. Five grunted. “You heard me. All you have to do is admit I had the shot and that you just wanted it for yourself. Then I promise that I’ll ride you like a fucking bronco until you're filling me up with your cum. It’s so easy,” you cooed with fluttering eyelashes and a sweet smile.

The only sounds in the room were those of your collective, ragged breaths as you both waited each other out. It was a standoff. But you were pretty sure you had the upper hand. There’s no way he was going to be able to hold out.

He breathed out a long, loud exhale. “Fine. You had the shot.”

You smiled. “And?”

“And I just wanted it for myself,” he said quietly and clearly unhappily.

“So, you admit that I know what I am doing and you, Five Hargreeves, are not the only one out there that has a brain?”

Five growled, his teeth clenched together and his body jerking beneath you. “Yes! Fuck! I admit it…I told you! You were right, I was wrong. Now please…just fuck me!” His voice cracked with his begging.

You brought your hand down, tracing the lines of his jaw. “Thank you, my love. That’s all I wanted.” You gave him another patronizing smack on the cheek, this one just a little harder than you had before, which you only just realized a second too late. His head turned to the side with the force of it and a light pink mark was left in its wake.

His eyes flashed with that steeliness you had seen from him many times in the past. That darkness that would come over him when he would look at you like the prey he was about to consume. A small smile formed on his face, his dimple peeking through and creating a contrast of severity and innocence as he looked you dead in the eyes. Your pulse quickened at the sight and suddenly you weren’t feeling so in control anymore.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said slowly in that dangerous voice of his. “I think we’re done with this game.”

You swallowed loudly. You didn’t think you could have gotten any wetter than you already were, but you were proven wrong when you felt a rush between your legs as your breath hitched in your throat.

There was one more second of eye contact before you were collapsing onto the bed on all fours, a flash of blue surrounding you, and Five’s body no longer beneath yours. There was no time to register what was happening before you felt strong hands on either side of your hips, pulling your ass back while you cried out in surprise. There was also no time before Five’s hard cock was slamming inside of you in one thrust. His hand gripped your hair as he started fucking you.

“Five!” you exclaimed, inhaling a stuttering breath as he continued to rail into you. “That’s too…oh, fuck…keep going.”

You heard a quiet laugh from behind you, right before your body was tugged upward by your hair, and Five’s mouth was on your neck, his harsh breath warming your already hot skin. His other hand snaked around to finger your throbbing clit and you tipped your head back with a pleading whine.

“Oh god…yes, Five…please…”

“Fuck, I love to hear you beg for me. Keep going...beg me to let you come on my dick. Beg for my cum inside you."

"Ahh...please, Five..." you could hardly think of words or any coherent thoughts as he kept driving himself inside you. "...please...come inside me!"

"That's what I needed...you're always so good for me," he said tenderly next to your ear before pressing harder into you with his fingers and rubbing circles against you.

Damn it, he always knew how to get to you. It had been a fun game while it lasted, but you both knew this was what you really wanted. To be dominated and praised by him. To be owned by him.

You came for him, just like he wanted, crying out his name and trembling against his body as he held you to him with all of his strength. He followed soon after, groaning into your neck and shoulder; his face pressed into you as he emptied himself inside you with long, pumping shudders of his hips against your ass.

When you were both left panting for air, skin damp and bodies weak, he moved from behind you and you laid down on your side. Five fell onto his back, his chest still working for air as he looked over at you with a smile that you returned. He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss.

“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me,” he smirked.

You scoffed. “I had you begging for me and you confessed to being a big liar!”

Five shrugged. “Confessions given under coercion are considered false and inadmissible in court. I think you know that. Therefore, I admit nothing.”

Your mouth hung open for a second and your eyes narrowed. “I swear to god, Five, I really am going to get a new part—”

He cut you off with a kiss and a gentle hand on the side of your face. When you pulled away his smile had evolved from arrogant to sweet and loving. He stroked your cheek and lips with his thumb.

“You know I love you more than anything in the world and I would never do anything to get in your way or to try and make you look bad. You are my amazing, sexy, smart, bad-ass wife who can do everything I can do and more. So, I swear to you when I say—”

“I know,” you said quietly with a nod. “I was going to miss, wasn’t I?”

He kissed you again. “Maybe. Maybe not. But when it comes to you, I’m not taking any chances.”

You nodded again. “I know that. And I couldn’t ask for a better partner or husband than you.” Then you grinned. “But if you knock me in the dirt again, you’re going to pay with more than just your hands tied over your head and a little slap to the face. Understand?”

Five laughed. “Fair enough. But you never know…I might like it.”

[hoshifighting]

virgin!mingyu x reader

warnings: first time experience, oral, hair grabbing, cock riding, slightly nipple play (m receiving)...

you and mingyu always bicker. it's your thing. teasing, mocking—it's all part of the routine. recently, though, you’ve been working on a college project with wonwoo, mingyu’s roommate. 

mingyu had just broken up with his girlfriend from campus a little while ago. wonwoo mentioned that his girlfriend lost patience with mingyu because he didn’t want to have sex with her. 

what she didn’t know was that he’s still a virgin. 

when you heard that, you felt sad. mingyu isn’t a bad person at all.you remember back in high school when you were the one being mocked for never having kissed anyone. mingyu, hearing all the fuss in the canteen, just walked over and kissed you. it made all the teasing stop.

you didn’t like that the gossip was about him now. one evening, wonwoo excuses himself, saying he needs to go to his parents' home. he leaves you at their dorm to finish the project, knowing mingyu is around.

“hey, can you pass me the glue?” you ask, not looking up from your work.

mingyu, lounging on his bed with a comic book, grumbles but gets up and hands it to you. “you know, you could get it yourself,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.“

“yeah, but then i’d miss out on this delightful conversation,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

there’s a pause, then mingyu sits down across from you, watching you work. 

it’s quiet, almost too quiet, and you can feel his eyes on you. 

finally, you break the silence.“so, uh, wonwoo told me about you and your girlfriend,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual.mingyu’s expression darkens a bit.

 “oh, he did, did he?”

“yeah. i just… i’m sorry. she didn’t deserve to know anyway,” you say, fumbling with the glue cap.

he raises an eyebrow. “didn’t deserve to know what?”

“that you’re… you know, still a virgin,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

mingyu sighs and leans back in his chair. “it’s not something i’m ashamed of, you know. it’s just… private.”

“yeah, i get it. people can be really judgmental about stuff like that,” you say, thinking back to high school again.

“like when you hadn’t kissed anyone yet,” mingyu says, reading your mind.

“exactly,” you say, smiling a little. “that day in the canteen… you really saved me from a lot of embarrassment.”

he chuckles. “i remember. your face was so red.”

“oh, shut up,” you laugh, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at him.

he catches it easily, tossing it back. “i just didn’t want them to make you feel bad. you didn’t deserve it.”

“neither do you,” you say softly. “i think i... can help if you want to,” you say softly, feeling your cheeks warm up.

mingyu looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “help with what?”

you swallow, feeling a bit nervous but determined. “with, you know, the whole... virgin thing.”

his eyes widen, and he sits up straighter. “wait, are you saying...?”

“yeah,” you interrupt, feeling a bit more confident. “i mean, if you want to, that is. no pressure.”

mingyu is silent for a moment, processing what you just said. then he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve seen a hundred times. “why would you want to do that?”

“because you deserve someone who cares and won’t judge you,” you say simply. “and because... i trust you.”

he looks at you, searching your face for any hint of a joke or insincerity. finding none, he takes a deep breath. “are you sure? i mean, we’ve always just...”

“bickered? yeah, i know. but there’s more to us than that,” you say, moving closer to him. “i think we’ve always known that, deep down.”

mingyu’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to take your hand. “okay. i trust you too.”

you both sit there for a moment, holding hands and letting the reality of the situation sink in. then, with a small smile, you lean in and kiss him.

you lean in and kiss him, feeling the softness of his lips and the tentative way he kisses back. it’s gentle at first, but soon the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent. your hands move to his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

you break the kiss, trailing your lips down his neck and across his chest. you plant a soft kiss on each of his nipples, hearing his sharp intake of breath, a soft moan escaping his lips. his embarrassment is endearing, but you can tell he’s enjoying it.

“relax,” you whisper, your voice a soft command. “just enjoy it.”

you continue your path downward, kissing and nibbling along his stomach, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, seeing the anticipation and nervousness in his eyes. you slide his pants down, freeing him from the confines of his clothes.

taking him into your hand, you give him a reassuring smile before lowering your mouth to him. your tongue flicks out, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and you can feel him shudder. as you take him deeper into your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and suck gently, eliciting a deep moan from him.

his hand tangles in your hair, not guiding, just holding, as if he needs the connection to ground himself. you start to move, slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. your spit makes everything slick, and you can taste the faint hint of precum.

you take him deeper, trying to relax your throat as you push him further in. his hips jerk slightly, and you feel his breath hitch. your fingers trail along his length, adding to the sensation, and you glance up to see his eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open in pleasure.

as you increase your pace, taking him as deep as you can, you press a finger gently against the slit at the tip, preventing him from reaching his climax too soon. he groans, the sound desperate and full of need.

“please,” he whispers, his voice strained.

you pull back, letting him slip from your mouth. “not yet,” you murmur, climbing back up to straddle him. you align yourself with him, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him.

the feeling is intense for both of you, and you take a moment to adjust, watching the way his eyes widen with the new sensation. you start to move, rocking your hips in a steady rhythm. his hands find your waist, holding you as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“god, you feel amazing,” he groans, his grip tightening.

you smile down at him, leaning forward to kiss him again. the kiss is hungry, filled with the heat of the moment. as you move faster, you can feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more erratic.

you adjust your angle, finding that perfect spot that makes both of you see stars. his moans grow louder, and you can tell he’s right on the edge. you pick up the pace, wanting to give him an unforgettable first time.

“come for me, mingyu,” you whisper against his lips.

with a final, deep thrust, he cries out, his body shuddering as he reaches his climax. the feeling of him coming inside you sends you over the edge as well, and you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and spent. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel his heart pounding against yours.

“that was...” he begins, but he doesn’t seem to have the words.

“unforgettable?” you suggest, smiling as you nuzzle into his neck.

“yeah,” he agrees, his voice full of awe and gratitude. “unforgettable.”

[floatyflowers]

Platonic Dark! Prince x Child Reader

𝕿he people saw him as a monster because of the fact that he has pale skin and white hair. He also can't see well due to his purple irises.

But no one dared to call him a 'monster', but instead, he was nicknamed 'the strange'.

Prince Gwyn doesn't like to indulge himself in balls, even though he is the crown prince.

Instead, he likes to stay in his chamber all day, avoiding the eyes of many onlookers.

Gwyn loves to read many books; he finds comfort in learning, especially if they are books about mysticism.

One day, the twenty-year-old prince was sitting on his windowsill reading a book.

The weather is not sunny, which is perfect for him to also enjoy the sight of the outside world for a while.

Yet, the sight of the servants caught his eyes.

Down in the garden, two female servants are placing the clothes on the drying line.

What caught his attention is the small child running around the garden joyfully.

This small child is you, a servant's daughter probably.

You suddenly stop and look up at him.

Gwyn expected to see you scream and run away upon seeing his appearance, but instead, you smiled and waved at him.

He wanted to wave back at you, but you runaway to go and speak with your mother.

A child? This is the first time he sees a child in his life.

He continued to observe you from his window as you played outside, and he was intrigued by your innocence and joy.

Gwyn couldn't help but smile to himself, feeling a sense of warmth and connection to the child despite you being a stranger.

The prince wants you to be his platonic companion.

°°°

Gwyn had never felt this way towards anyone before. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling, but he found himself wanting more.

Maybe if he clears up his mind, he can forget about you.

He put down his book and decided to take a walk around the palace grounds after midnight, like he usually does when everyone sleeps.

Except for the guards who are always on the watch.

While walking through the castle, he finds a small figure sneaking around.

So, the prince decides to follow the figure, believing that it is you.

Gwyn cautiously approached the small figure, careful not to frighten them. As he got closer, he saw that it was indeed you.

You went to the kitchen and he followed inside after you, noticing that you were eating food.

He sighed in relief, realizing that you were the only person in the castle who didn't seem afraid of him.

"So, it's you," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I take it you don't follow the rules?"

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes wide with curiosity. "What rules?" you asked.

Gwyn chuckled, amused by your innocence. "The rules that say we can't be out after midnight," he explained. "But I see that doesn't bother you."

You giggled, your small hands covering your mouth.

"No, it doesn't," you said.

"I come out here all the time to eat."

Gwyn nodded, acknowledging the fact that you probably didn't have much to eat during the day.

It made sense; you were a servant's child, after all.

He took a step closer to you, noticing that you were quite short in height.

"What's your name, child?" he asked softly, his eyes fixed on you.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, your mind trying to process the situation.

"My name is (Y/n), Sir Angel" you replied cheerfully.

"Sir Angel?"

Gwyn inquires, surprised at your nickname for him.

"Yes, because you are beautiful like an angel"

Your words was enough to make him finally burst into tears.

People always saw him as a cursed monster, but here you, a child, calling him an 'Angel'

"That's such a sweet thing to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm not an angel. I'm what they call a 'monster.'"

He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his words, as gets down on his knees.

Gwyn paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of sadness and hope in his eyes.

"But you, you accept me for who I am. You don't care about my appearance or my curse. You just see me as a person."

He smiled warmly at you, grateful for your kindness and understanding.

You pat his head, curious to touch his hair, your fingers touching his strands.

Gwyn thought you were comforting him, but in reality, you just liked his hair color.

"Would you like to be my companion?"

Your eyes brighten up in happiness.

"Does that mean mommy can come too"

Gwyn's mood sours at the mention of your mother, and smiles bitterly about someone sharing you with him.

"Yes...she can"

°°°

The prince murdered your mother in cold blood right in front of your eyes, and hid the evidence in the same garden you used to play in when you were younger.

Now, at fifteen, you stand, in front of your mother's grave weeping.

Weeping for the fact that you are now a prisoner, with no way out of this castle.

The prince did indeed look angelic on the outside.

But, he truly was a monster all along.

[sicutpuella]

Twitter Incels | Simon “Ghost” Riley

That phase where you slowly start hating your girlfriend is insane.

That damned Twitter thread. It's been haunting her for a week now. She can't stop opening it, her heart sinking further with every new addition. She reads every disheartening tweet: “I’m waiting for her to catch me cheating so she can break up with me,” “I close my eyes when we kiss because she’s so fuckin’ ugly!” And the horrible comments just keep coming…

She’s somehow semi-grateful Simon doesn’t have Twitter or any social accounts—he thinks social media is stupid; but she can’t help but have that self-doubt of paranoia and overthinking—what if Simon had thought of the same thing?

Simon, on the other hand, had a day filled with boredom and frustration.

He doesn't know what his girlfriend has been going through; instead, he's been preoccupied with his own thoughts. He's been itching to spend some quality time together, but she's been unusually distant lately. It’s been almost two days since they last hung out, and the silence is weighing heavily on him.

He's tried reaching out through text, but her responses have been short and distant. This isn't like her at all. The more he thinks about it, the more irritated he feels. He's starting to wonder what's going through her head.

So… he invites himself back into her house and sees her watching something.

He joins her on the couch, making his presence known with a heavy sigh. Crossing his arms, he turns his attention to the screen.

"Hey," he says, trying to sound neutral. "What are you watching?"

Oh—just… Breaking Bad." She looked sad.

Simon notices the hint of sadness in her voice; it catches him off guard. He turns his gaze to her, studying her expression closely.

"You alright?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. He doesn’t understand why she seems so down.

He knew he did nothing wrong; he double-checked his calendar—he didn’t miss any birthday, any anniversary, or any other silly shenanigans she had for the week. So he wonders.

The more he sits there, the more confused and frustrated he becomes. He can't comprehend why she’s acting this way. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something he might have done or said to upset her. But he comes up empty, only increasing his irritation.

"You've been distant lately," he states bluntly, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"It's like you've been avoiding me," he continues, his irritation growing with every word. He shifts on the couch, leaning closer to her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of what’s going on in her head.

"What's going on?" he presses, his tone firm but laced with a hint of concern. He can't shake the feeling that something is off, and the silence is only making him more agitated.

“Do you hate me? Do you feel like you’re starting to hate me?” Her tone was soft and vulnerable, he realized— she was overthinking again. 

As she spoke, each question hit him like a punch to the gut. He recoiled, taken aback by the insecurities spilling from her mouth.

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, his expression softened. “No, never.” he said firmly. “I don’t hate you, I don’t make fun of you, and I definitely don’t think you’re annoying.”

He paused, his eyes locked onto hers. “And you’re goddamn beautiful, you know that.” 

She still had a bit of a pout. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her pout, his irritation completely replaced by affection. 

He shifted on the couch, moving even closer to her. He put his arm around her, pulling her against his side. “Seriously, where’s all this coming from?” he asked again, his tone gentle.

”This…” she shows him the infamous twitter thread— to which he has no knowledge of since he is chronically offline. He scans the Twitter thread, his expression growing more dumbfounded with each new addition. He couldn’t believe that was the reason she was feeling so insecure!

“Really?” he said after finishing reading it. “This is what made you doubt me? A bunch of idiotic tweets from strangers on a screen?”

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “You know how stupid Twitter is, right? You can’t trust anything on there. It’s just people spewing nonsense, looking for attention and validation.”

He scrolls some more, “typical boy behavior…” he clicks his tongue with annoyance.

“Look at them… they keep tweeting about how much they hate their girlfriends!” She crosses her arms.

“Yeah, and most of them are probably made by sad and bitter assholes who can’t even find someone who’d put up with them for more than five minutes.” He rolls his eyes, scanning through the thread again, his irritation growing with each tweet.

“Besides…” he glances at her with a smirk, “do I look like one of those morons?”

“No…”

“Exactly,” he said firmly, his gaze fixed on hers. “I'm not one of those dumb, shallow idiots.”

He gently placed his hand on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to listen to any of this bullshit.” He gestured towards the Twitter thread. “None of that matters, not when you have me.”

He paused for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, and I can’t get enough of you. I’m with you because I want to be, not because some dumbass on Twitter says I should hate you.”

“But… but look at what they’re tweeting, babe!” Her voice pitches up.

“Sounds like a bunch of incels.” He chuckles to himself while scrolling.

He chuckled without humor. “And look at all the dumbass replies. People agreeing with this crap because they’re insecure idiots who can’t appreciate what they have.” He takes her hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “But you know who you’re dating, right? A man who adores every part of you. A man who would shoot those basement incels in the face if they spoke about you like that in front of me.”

“Yeah, but they’re like—comparing their girlfriends to… to… their first loves…” she sighs, pulling her knees to her chest. She still felt insecure. He noticed her pulling away, the insecurity still evident in her body language. He pulled her closer to his side, wrapping his arm around her.

“Seriously?” he scoffed, his annoyance evident. “Comparing their girlfriends to first loves? That’s the most shallow and idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.” He let out a frustrated groan. “And who cares about first loves anyway? They’re called ‘first’ for a reason—because they usually end for a reason.”

He gently lifted her chin, making her look at him. “I’m not thinking about my first love— fuck don’t think I even had one… or comparing you to anyone else. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You sure?” She pouts. “No taxi-cab theory or anything?”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Are you serious? Who even comes up with these shithole theories?” He pauses, trying to compose himself. “First of all, that’s another dumb thing people on the internet say to make themselves feel better. Second, why do you still watch those TikToks when they just make your insecurities flare up?”

She sighs, realizing he had a big point.

He noticed the sigh, realizing she understood what he was saying.

He softened his expression, his annoyance fading into a gentle concern. “Babe, you’ve got to stop listening to random crap on the internet. Especially when it’s making you doubt yourself and us.”

He wraps his arm tighter around her, pulling her closer still. “You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I want to be with. Don’t let some dumbass TikTokers and Twitter incels make you think otherwise, alright?”

He saw the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile, and it brought a sense of relief to him. He knew he was getting through to her, making her see that she had nothing to worry about.

“There’s that smile I love,” he said softly, his thumb caressing her cheek.

She nodded, their eyes locked. She knew he was right; he had never once made her feel unloved. He held her gaze, seeing the realization dawn in her eyes, the understanding that she had nothing to worry about.

“Good,” he said, a small smile forming on his face. ��Now, can you please delete that stupid TikTok app before you start questioning the very foundation of our relationship again?”

”It’s Twitter! TikTok and Twitter are different…” She cutely huffed.

He rolled his eyes, sarcasm evident in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, I know. One is full of annoying dances and teenagers, and the other is full of annoying people and their stupid opinions. Big difference.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, his struggle to express himself verbally apparent.

“But seriously,” he said earnestly, his hand gently squeezing hers, “You’re the most beautiful woman in my eyes. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. There’s no one else for me, and I’ll always be here to remind you of that, even if I’m not the best at saying it.”

[thebestsetter]

- I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me

- What? - Rin asked as he stared at the girl

- I said - (Name) said while not taking her eyes off the horror movie her and Rin were watching - I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me. Ya know, like Bachira does to his girlfriend - she sighed dreamly - or Isagi. Hell, even Kaiser dedicates his goals to his girlfriend.

- Hm - Rin said, taking his eyes off her and looking back at the TV - that's kinda stupid. Everyone knows you're dating me, so why would I need to do that? The game should continue as quickly as possible, so it would just be a waste of time.

The girl finally looked at him. If he stopped paying attention to that movie and decided to look at her too, he'd see the sad look in her eyes. The girl sighed again (this time, out of disappointment) and got up from the sofa.

- Hey, where are you going? - Rin said, finally pausing the movie (just as the main character was almost getting caught by the big, bad and scary monster) and looking at her again

- I'm going to bed - she responded. Quick, short and emotionless. Exactly the opposite of what her answers should be

- Then I'm going too - Rin got up from the sofa, kind of grateful that she made him turn off that horrible movie (he liked horror movies, but this one was ridiculous. The monster looked like phlegm and the script looked like it was written on colored paper with crayons by a 5 year old)

- Hm - she hummed, and the teal eyed boy was starting to get uncomfortable with her responses (or the lack of them)

Without another word, the couple went to their shared bedroom. (Name) sat down on the bed and decided to spend the next 30 minutes surfing the internet and liking some cute cat videos, while Itoshi went to the bathroom to shower (the last time he had taken a shower was in the morning, before breakfast. Yucky!).

When he finally locked the door, (Name) suddenly got a call from her best friend. She decided to pick up, since the girl always knew exactly how to cheer her up

- Hey (Name)!

- Hey.

- Okay, You can stop giving me that attitude, young lady. What happened?

Sighing for the third time in a span of 30 minutes, (Name) decided to tell her about the disgreement with her boyfriend.

- So yeah, I got kinda sad. He basically said our relationship was a waste of time, you know?

- I can't believe that bastard really said that. "That's stupid". If anything, he's the stupid one! - she said, mocking Rin by mimicking his voice. A very poor imitation, may I add. But it made you giggle, and that was exactly what she wanted - can't believe you're still going to his game tomorrow!

- Yeah - you said, a lot more happy thanks to the conversation with her - But can you blame me? VIP session, baby! - you both chuckled

- True. Well, I have to get going - she said, sadly cutting your convo short - I have a job interview tomorrow, since not all of us date a football player - she playfull rolled her eyes - but it was amazing talking to you!

- You always know how to make me smile. Thanks.

- Don't mention it! If he ever pulls any shit like that again, just break up with him OR don't hesitate to call me. I'll kick his ass for making my pookie wookie sad - she answered, using that ridiculous nickname you begged her to stop using

- Will do - you smiled - now go to sleep. You need to be in good form tomorrow!

- I'll get that job opportunity, you'll see.

- I don't doubt you one bit

- Bye, good night!

- Night! - (Name) said, turning the call off and finally going to sleep with a calmer mind.

What she didn't expect, however, was that Rin was hearing every. second. of. the. call.

It's not like he wanted to hear it, he just happened to be attently listening to every word (Name) said and trying to understand what her friend said too. It's not his fault his gf uses speaker mode!

The Itoshi got out of the bathroom and stared at the phone with a dumbfolded expression, not believing ehat he had just heard.

"I can't believe (Name) got mad because of that" because of me, is what he really thought, but he decided to lie to himself claiming that "it wasn't his fault"

- ...why are you looking at my phone like that? - the girl said after being woken up by the light coming out of the bathroom.

- Like what?

- Like that!

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Okay then. If you're acting stupid to make me angry, congratulations! It's very effective

- I'm not acting stupid

- You're right! You're not acting stupid, you are stupid

- Hold on - he put his hands in front of his body - are you seriously mad at me for not wanting to dedicate you a goal?

- Wow! What a genius!

- Not a fan of the attitude

- Not a fan of you being an asshole

Rin decided that arguing was useless. Afterall, you were always very sarcastic when mad, so any efforts to make you less angry were fruitless. There was only one way to solve this argument, and Rin already knew what he was gonna do. So, he finally decided to lay in bed.

- Nuh uh, you're sleeping on the couch tonight.

- What?! You wouldn't do this to me.

- Yep, I would. Couch. Now.

Yeah. He had to solve this shit fast.

"And there he goes again, Rin Itoshi dominating the field once more! "

He was at the top of his game today. It almost made you pity the other team, really. Two goals in the first half of the game is a big deal. And, sadly, none of them were dedicated to you. Not that you were expecting it. You knew how stubborn Rin was, but you were just as (if not even more) petty.

So, you decided you would leave the game early. You wish he could see you leaving, but he would notice your absence sooner or later.

- Wow, this game just keeps getting more interesting! A penalty for the team led by Rin Itoshi, and it looks like he will be the one to shoot it. I'm sure he wants to score a hat trick, so that's his chance! And he isn't someone who loses his chances often.

He sure isn't. Because, the moment he grabbed the ball, he looked at your chair, eyes sparkling and almost pleading for you to watch him. And even though you wanted to leave him alone, something inside of you told you to wait. So, you decided to humor him for a bit.

"The ref blows the wistle. Itoshi looks at the ball, runs and... GOALLLL!!!! A hat trick from the one and only Rin Itoshi, ladies and gentleman!"

You rolled your eyes, cause you knew he wouldn't lose this, and decided to finally leave. Afterall, your gut was wrong. Nothing extraordinary happened. Or at least you thought nothing did.

- Love, wait!

No way. Rin freaking Itoshi was not jumping the fence separating the field from the stands just to get to you.

- This goal was for you, ya know?

This wasn't happening, right? He for sure wasn't hugging your waist so tight it was making you red (yes, of course your red face was only caused by the lack of air filling your lungs because of his grip. Of course you weren't feeling shy or anything)

- I didn't think dedicating you a goal was necessary because I thought you knew all of my goals were and are for you. Everything I do is for you. I love you. And since I love you, you don't deserve only a goal: you deserve a whole ass hat trick. This is for you, love.

You were crying. In front of thousands eyes and in front of the television. The whole world could see your ugly crying red face, but you strangely couldn't care less. Not when Rin was closing the distance between your faces, and specially not when the striker was kissing you with so much passion it made you wanna cry even more. And so, you laugh.

- Yeah, you're not sleeping on the couch again tonight.

~ A/N: not proof read, so sorry for any mistakes!!! Also, the friend got the job after the interview 👍

Masterlist

[theemporium]

A number 15 green-eyed mojito with Nico💚

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

15. "What would I be jealous about?”

.

“You’re staring.” 

“I’m observing.”

“If looks could kill, he would be dead.”

“Tragic.” 

“Oh my god,” Jack grumbled under his breath, shooting his captain a concerned look before shaking his head. “Remind me not to piss you off.” 

Nico rolled his eyes. “You piss me off quite often, actually.”

“I—” Jack paused, his eyes narrowing as he lightly jabbed his side with his elbow. “One, that was rude. Two, you need to calm down. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend and you aren’t even her boyfriend. You’re just the jealous part.”

Nico scoffed, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Because, as much as it pained him to admit, Jack was right. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend and he was fully aware of that. But it wasn’t like self-awareness couldn’t exactly stop the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man openly flirt with you. 

“You know,” Jack continued, something quite like amusement in his voice. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you just grew the balls to ask her out.” 

And he hated that Jack was right again. 

The crush he had been harbouring on you was obvious to everyone with a pair of working eyes. Or at least, everyone except you. Since the day you started on the team, Nico had been all lovesick smiles and longing gazes, practically throwing himself at any social media opportunity he could just so he could spend time with you. It was a little embarrassing and pathetic, all things considered. 

But the worst part was that it had been a better part of two years and Nico had made no move to confess his feelings towards you.

Which then led to moments like now, where Nico had no real reason to feel as irritated as he was over some guy from the media team flirting with you.

“Shut up,” was all he managed to mutter out.

“This is actually really sad to watch,” Jack muttered before sighing deeply. “Just know that I’m doing this because, as your friend and alternate, I’m worried about you possibly breaking your jaw before making a move.”

Nico frowned a little. “What are you—”

But before Nico could even stop whatever stupid move Jack was going to pull, he was calling out your name and waving his hands in such an exaggerated and overly dramatic manner that Nico felt his cheeks heating up. 

“I hate you,” Nico muttered under his breath as you began making your way over.

“You’re about to hate me so much more but I know you love me,” Jack whispered back before he grinned at you, the words leaving his mouth so quick that Nico almost thought he imagined it when the younger boy said, “Nico is jealous.” 

And then, the fucker was running off and leaving a gaping Nico in the dust to deal with the consequences.

You blinked in surprise before you turned to the boy. “You’re jealous?” 

“Me? Jealous? What would I be jealous about?” Nico attempted to laugh off, but it was forced and dry and it didn’t quite land the way he wanted to when he noticed your brows furrowing in concern. “Jack is just messing about, don’t listen to him.”

“Really?” You questioned, watching as Nico quickly nodded in response. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you have spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Thomas?” 

Nico blinked, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. “Uh—”

“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in him,” you said.

“Oh.” He couldn’t bring himself to care how happy he sounded, how hopeful.

“I’m interested in someone else,” you continued.

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear and heavy in his voice, inklings of the previous jealousy sinking into his response.

“You might know him,” you added, trying to bite back your smile when you watched his nose scrunch up. “He’s a hockey player, has a cute accent and pretty brown eyes. Think he might even be the captain or something.” 

Blood roared in his ears and he was pretty sure his smile was going to split his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he’s a little blind,” you teased, almost looking a little bashful despite the unwavering confidence in your voice. “I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out but he hasn’t been catching my hints.”

“He sounds a little stupid,” Nico murmured. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed if his heart didn’t feel like it was about to beat out of his own chest. “But I bet he’s wondering if you’re free at seven tonight.”

“Let him know it’s a date,” you said, grinning right back at him.

.