#imagine you were in the dark and you just saw a dark shape in the darkness with big orange glowing eyes.

[wingedqueenlynx]

Flying-Fox fun fact!

A little info on how Foxy's goggles work with refracting light to prevent her from becoming overstimulated. Plus, intimation tactics she uses for serious situations or when a job needs to be done.

If criminals don't think she's a scary hero like Batman- she will humble them. The way the light bounces off her goggles works similarly to how the Cats Eye road studs work

Foxy's vision is left unaffected while the criminals that shone their flashlights at her in the darkness have been effectively traumatised by seeing her like the entity she is lol

The more you know :3c

[rosiereveries]

Retired!JohnPrice, who, after retiring, bought a cabin in a small town where everyone knew everyone. He was a stranger, and people talked about him all the time. They wanted to know where he was from, why he came to their town, and what he wanted. He didn’t have a lot to do in his free time. He restored the cabin he stayed in; the roof was leaking, he needed to buy new kitchen supplies, and the attic needed good cleaning. The previous owner left all their stuff there. John came to the conclusion that the previous owner loved to read. There were books everywhere. The old bedroom had one huge bookshelf filled with romance books. Until now, he didn’t even know that there were so many books with hot men on the cover. He felt sorry to just throw them away; the books were in good shape, and they could make someone very happy.

That was how he found you. After searching the town for a charity shop or something, he found a library where you worked. You greeted him with a smile, and he was enchanted. He explained to you that he would like to donate books to the library and asked if you could help him with the process. You agreed that after work, you would visit him and make a list of the books he had. When you arrived at his cabin, he told you that he had made dinner, and he would love if you could join him. It had been a while since someone had cooked for you, so you accepted his offer. After dinner, you went through the books in his bedroom. You blushed the whole time, looking up the titles of the books, and John didn’t make your job easier. He read aloud some parts of the books, each scene steamier than the previous. After you were done, he drove you home. He didn’t want a pretty girl like you to go home in the dark. He knew that the town was safe, but he needed to be sure that you got home okay. John promised that he would bring the books to the library tomorrow and help you with them. The whole evening, he tried to get your number so he could ask you out, and now he had the perfect chance for it. He said that he needed it to call you tomorrow when he would come. On the drive back home, he thought about how enchanting it was to meet you.

You felt the same. You had butterflies in your stomach since the moment he walked through the library door. The same old tired, lonely place vanished when you saw his face. You felt like a schoolgirl having a crush on the older boys, but now you felt like he might have a crush on you too. You were blushing the whole way home, hoping that he would ask you out. You eagerly awaited the whole morning for when he would text you that he was on the way. After lunch, you started to lose hope that he would show up. He told you that he would come before your lunch break so that he could take you out for lunch. You felt stupid; you didn’t ask for his number, and now you had no way to contact him. Yes, you could go to his house, but you were not that desperate, and it would be weird if you just showed up. You tried to distract yourself with work, but it didn’t stop your wandering thoughts. What if he had someone, and you were too flirty, and now, he didn’t want to talk to you? Maybe he was just a friendly neighbor who wanted to do something nice for the community. Maybe you just imagined the spark that was between you and him. You hoped that this was the very first page and not where the storyline ended.

Just before closing time, you heard the bell above the door, and you wondered who could come this late. It was John, who immediately started to apologize. He said that his bathroom pipes had broken, and the water flooded the entire bathroom. He had to get it fixed quickly, and it was so much work that he didn’t have time to come up and see you. At first, you didn’t believe him, but after he came closer, you could see that his hands were dirty, and his pants still had some water stains. You invited him to your place, and he drove you there, still trying to apologize. He said that he would make it up to you, take you on a proper date, buy you flowers, and take you somewhere romantic where you could have your first date. When you arrived at your place, you cooked dinner for both of you. He spent the evening with you, asking so many questions about your job, your life, and other things. John insisted on leaving just before midnight. You walked him out to his car, and when he thanked you for the dinner, you kissed him. He was too much of a gentleman to kiss a girl on the very first night, so you had to take control into your own hands. After the kiss, it didn’t take much to convince him to come back to your house and eventually to your bed.

Masterlist

[cythena]

TOUCH ME TEASE ME FEEL ME UP

❥ — ꒰ notes ꒱ gojo, yuuji, toji, nanami x fem!reader, making out, public (yuuji), semi public (gojo, toji, nanami), cursing, tit sucking (gojo), there’s no sex but very suggestive, everyone gets cockblocked

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ you looked so good for them and they couldn’t resist getting their hands and lips on you

SATORU GOJO ✰ BACKSEAT

he always had ijichi take you two around. he still has no idea how he convinced ijichi to drive you both around. satoru decided to take you on a date to a high class sushi restaurant in the city. you deserved it after the stressful mission you had. so you dressed up. you wore a tight deep blue dress (that he bought for you) and these black heels. he loved the way your legs looked in heels. they shaped your body nicely.

as you walked into the restaurant, he rested his hand on your back right before your ass curved. he couldn’t resist touching you when you looked so perfect. when you sat in front of him he admired your chest and collarbone adorned by the jewelry he gifted you. seeing you made the strongest’s ego swell up even more.

on your way back to the car ijichi texted satoru he would be back to the car in a minute and he didn’t mind at all. he didn’t tell you but he did start rushing you to the car just a little. when you were in your seat he pounced.

he protected your head from hitting the window with his hand. his body crawled on top of you and caged you in. he rubbed his hands against your thighs to pull your dress above your hips. you pushed his head harder against your collarbone. he sucked harshly at your skin until he was confident you had a dark purple bruise. “oh! s-satoru! ijichi-”

“isn’t here right now,” he cut you off and pressed another kiss to your lips. he moved to pull the top of your dress down. now he could see your braless tits. he slurped your nipples obnoxiously loud. “you just look so fucking sexy right now. i’ve been so hot for you since i saw you.”

you whined at his words. he sat up and pulled you down to lie flat on the seat. he lifted your ankle onto his shoulder. his lips focused on kissing your soft ankle and higher. your tits were covered in bite marks illuminated by the moonlight flowing into the car. satoru rubbed two fingers right against your clit through your thin panties.

“you wearin’ a thong?” he teased. you nodded with a loud moan when he squeezed your skin. he shifted his arm underneath your waist to flip you over. “shit- ‘ve gotta see that.”

suddenly someone cleared their throat. satoru languidly pulled himself away from you. his fingers still rubbed at your slit. you scrambled to fix your appearance. in the rear view mirror ijichi’s glasses reflected. you shamefully pulled your dress up and smoothed out the bottom.

“these tinted windows shouldn’t be abused,” the driver muttered to satoru. you could only wished to be as shameless as your boyfriend.

YUUJI ITADORI✰ BEACH

yuuji loved the beach. there was only one thing he loved more, your ass. so imagine his delight when getting to combine his two favorite things. nobara was a genius for planning this day. you had on a cute pink bikini. he remembers you picking it and showing him. it looked pretty online but he didn’t imagine it could look so perfect on you.

the small cups hugged your boobs to your chest and at first you had on the matching beach skirt. he held your hand while you walked to a nice secluded spot to hold for you and your friends. when your spot was ready, you untied the knot at the side and let the skirt fall.

yuuji was looking through your bag for sunscreen at the time. you were facing the ocean while talking to him. when he looked up he caught a beautiful sight of you. your skin was barely covered, it was so delicious to look at. it glimmered in the sun too. he could’ve sworn his mouth was watering. you turned around when he didn’t respond to your question.

“c’mere baby, real quick,” he murmured in a trance. he pulled you onto his lap. his hands played with your ass, fondling and squishing it. your tits were right in front his face too. “you look so pretty, my pretty girl right.” he said with a kiss to your shoulder.

he kissed up your neck and onto your lips. you held the sides of his face as your tongues met. your cunt rubbed against his crotch. he groaned into your mouth. your tongues swirled around each other’s.

“yuuj, calm down,” you giggled. he only pouted and leaned back in to kiss you. you didn’t resist him. your nails tickled his scalp from his undercut. he cock pressed through his shorts. he brought his hand to play with your boob from underneath the thin layer of your top. he pinched and toyed with your nipple.

“‘m sorry baby, your lips taste good. i can’t help it.” his cheeks flushed furiously. your head fell back in a laugh. you kissed his cheeks and stroked his hair. he tasted your strawberry lips again. they were so soft and delicious against his own.

“looking hot y/n! i missed you!” you turned around to see nobara, maki, and megumi walking over. yuuji’s mood deflated now. he hugged you to his chest until you eventually freed yourself to say hi. he laid back on the chair with a towel obviously laid on his lap.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✰ ELEVATOR

getting toji out of the house was a struggle. he didn’t want to get dressed and go to your friend’s party. the entire time you were doing your makeup and getting dressed, he was right behind you pawing at your hips.

you were grateful you made it into the building. your friend rented out a penthouse for her birthday. you stared at the buttons on the wall to the elevator.

“didn’t even know they made buildings this damn tall,” your boyfriend grumbled as he tugged on his collar. you looked at the mirror next to you — bending over to reapply your lipgloss. when toji turned to see what you were doing his eyes immediately fell to your ass sticking out for him.

his hand flew to grab a handful. the impact jutted to you forward a bit and you smeared your lipgloss. angrily, you stood back up about to reprimand him when he shoved you against the mirror. your lip gloss tube clattered to the ground.

his hands swooped your wrists together above your head. one hand locked them together while the other took advantage of the full access to your body. he nipped at your neck, exposed collarbone, and took his time in between your breasts.

“look so good, gotta mark ya up, make sure no man looks at you.”

“toji! control yourself!” you whined. he played with your thighs. his tongue licked a wide stripe back up your neck.

“mad i fucked up your lips?” he taunted. your leg wrapped around his waist, shifting your dress higher. the mirror revealed your lacy black panties that you were saving for him for after the party. you nodded with your lip stuck between your teeth. “poor baby.” he pecked your lips and wiped away the wine colored smudge. his husky voiced whispered, “i’m gonna ruin your whole look.”

the elevator dinged once before both doors began sliding open. toji loosened his grip for a second giving you the chance to push him off. you swiped your lip gloss from the ground and frantically reapplied it while toji fixed your dress. as soon as the doors on either side of you were exposed to the crowd of people.

you hurried to greet your friend with a nervous smile. your hands still smoothed out any wrinkles he left. toji followed behind you, blocking out the bit of your ass left hanging out just for him to see.

KENTO NANAMI ✰ OFFICE

kento was so proud of you for getting a promotion. now you got a new office that needed to be moved into. he offered his assistance to move your boxes into the new place. it wasn’t hard but he just wanted to spend some more time with you.

“you look so gorgeous, princess. i’m very proud of you,” he praised you. he picked you up and spun you around. you giggled once he put you down on your desk. he stroked the side of your cheek. you leaned into his touch.

“thank you, baby.” now kento considered himself a higher class man. he would never act on his perverted thoughts but when he looked down, the button on your blouse was open. multiple actually. enough for the plum colored lace of your bra to peek out.

he checked the time. it was about to be your lunch break. your body relaxed in his arms while he kissed up your neck. he kissed your ear and jawline.

“mhm. what’s gotten into you kento?” you sighed. your hand rested in his hair as he worked around your face. your eyes shut to intensify the feeling of his warm lips on your body. his thumbs stroked the dimples of your back.

“you smell good. do you have time?” he asked already knowing your answer. you followed his steps and checked your clock. he pulled away to look into your deep eyes. you gave him a nod and he reflected your mischievous glint in your eyes and smile.

he helped you to your back and rocked against you. he shoved his suit jacket off, disregarding where it landed. your buttons flew open, displaying your bra. he kissed them before his hands could meet them. your legs wrapped around his waist as your pencil skirt rose. he rubbed your thighs and snapped the strap of your garters against them.

“kento… ‘ts good, feels good,” you purred. he breathed in the alluring scent of your perfume. he’d have to buy you more. it had him rutting against you desperately. he grunted into your skin.

he locked hands with you against your desk. he wrapped the side of your panties around one knuckle to pull it down. he just needed to hear more of you. he had to hear you beg for more of him.

a rhythmic tapping sound echoed in the room. it only hit twice before kento was off of you and pulling your panties up and skirt down. you worked quickly to button up your shirt again.

“just a moment,” you called with a shaky voice. he smoothed out your hair and fixed any details you might’ve missed. “come in!”

the new intern walked in with some papers for you. his eyes flashed around the room nervously. they landed on kento, his slightly wrinkled shirt and gray pants. then they landed on the matching gray suit jacket in the corner.

— © cythena 2024. do not share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[emmcfrxst]

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about— the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

[oceantornadoo]

Please I just want to say I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK HUHBBDEUBYUVTYVTUOVY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you could come up with anything more on the Simon Riley Cut-bulk-the-bird-said-she-liked-me-big-thing I will be your servant forever.

tw: body talk (i headcanon simon as someone who shops in the big & tall section so i think his clothes would fit the body type of every reader. if you shop in that same section, imagine him being MORE bigger and taller than you. mans is 6'4 fr)

--

(a few months later)

simon almost ripped the shirt off his body in frustration. another piece of clothing he had outgrown. he added it to the pile of clothes that he couldn't fit anymore. sleeves too tight, stomach pushing out the fabric. sure he was still in shape, could pass the military physical easily, but he was no longer the lean 22-year-old he once was, muscles now hidden under layers of fat. and he hated it.

there was a knock at the door. still a little pissed off, he opened it with more force than necessary, grunting out "what." before even looking down at who knocked. just his luck, it was you, the one person he tried to be nice to.

"what's got you so grumpy?" you smiled up at him, all sugar and spice. you loved simon's growls, the social anxiety and introvertedness he hid under irritation. it just made it more valuable whenever he laughed at one of your god-awful puns or let you lay on his shoulder. you were never second-guessing if he liked you, mostly because he hated everyone else.

"sorry, didn't see it was you. was jus' doing some spring cleaning." you laughed, a tinkling sound that transitioned into a snort. he loved your insane laughter, a real sound of joy. you peered around his large torso and spotted the pile of clothes on his bed. "doing a big donation, simon?" it was always a punch to the gut to hear his name come out of your mouth, laced with sarcasm and cheek. ever since he told you you could say it in private with him a month ago, you never stopped using it. "somethin' like that. clothes piss me off." you huffed, pushing past him easily as he let you into his room. he closed the door behind you, trying to calm his heart rate as he saw you, here, in his space. like you were his too.

"what did the poor fabric do to you?" you sorted through the clothes, seeing nothing wrong with most. they were all practical clothes, but none had noticeable holes or wear. he mumbled something, too low for you to catch it. "say that again?" he scratched his head and looked away, almost meek. "said they don't fit." ah, there was the problem. "that's okay. just means your muscles are too big." you tried to give a compliment, anything to get rid of the storms in his eyes. "nah. 've gotten fat." you put the shirt you were holding down with force, stomping over to where he had now taken a seat at his spare chair. you stepped between his legs, which opened easily for you. you gripped his chin and turned it towards you, forcing eye contact. "so what? just means you've been eating well, simon. nothing wrong with that."

he looked down, almost reminding you of a kicked puppy. "you don't care?" you weren't dating, yet, but you two had some sort of a romantic understanding. some acknowledgement of there being more, an exclusive connection between you two. "no. i like my men big. like when you can throw me around." he barked out a laugh, surprised at your admission. you smiled back, satisfied. getting a laugh out of him was 80% of the battle. "and these clothes are still good for something." his eyes were on you again, questioning.

you walked back to the bed, full of confidence now. turning to face him, you slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your tactical pants. he wasn't wearing his mask, so you could see his mouth physically drop at the action. ever so slowly, you raised your arms, bringing your shirt with you. you tossed the shirt aside, standing in front of him with only your bra and pants on. his eyes were dark with desire and he made a move to stand up, but you commanded him with a sharp "sit." like a loyal guard dog, he lowered himself back into his chair, complete captivated.

turning back to the bed, you grabbed one of his outgrown sweatshirts and put it on. it smelled like him, that masculine scent tinged with the cologne he sometimes wore. "see?" you gestured to the sweatshirt, too big on you. "you just gave me a bunch of free clothes." he grunted, still fixated on the sweatshirt. his lack of response made you nervous. "what?" you asked. "give us a spin." you spun slowly, trying not to smile too much. god, the things this man does to you.

"'like seeing my last name on you."

now whose jaw was dropping?

[ophelieverse]

This is the first time that i send in a request,but I’ve been your fan for quite a while now🥰🥰I love your blog and your content,especially your writing,so can I please ask you to write something about Daemon x niece!reader where she is the daughter of Aemma and Viserys and he’s obsessed with her?It can be whatever you want!Thank you so much!🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆little bird

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

-Summary:Daemon is in Harrenhal and he’s tormented by the memories of the only woman that he had ever loved:his niece,the long gone princess Y/n.

-Warnings:death of character,incest,age gap,Daemon never married Laena,reader has valyrian features,reader died of childbirth,reader is mother of twin girls(you can decide if Baela and Rhaena),mental torture(?)sexual thoughts,Daemon being himself,Alys tormenting Daemon and him losing his mind.

•-aww thank you so much for your words and support,also thank you for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending love🩷🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The palate is a treacherous bastard,a vile traitor.The palate,the tongue,the teeth,the throat:damned monsters,damned stabs in the shoulders.

They rebelled and tortured Daemon intimately,as well as the strawled murmurs of soaking whispers in the dark and lonely castle,as well as the murmurs of that nameless woman.Everything bothered him,in that world built by the blood-stained hands of false and courteous murderers,and the raw truths of the tormented men were no exception.

After all,he should have known - and he knew it, he knew it and he had not stopped,he had become crazy! -that once he tasted the most precious wine of the Seven Kingdoms his mouth would detest any other drink.His primordial instinct and his spirit of survival had tried to warn him,to make him understand,to make him glimpse the inexorable fate in which there would be a before and there would of course be an after.

Because any other flavor would never have been as sweet as the taste of her.

And nothing more would have been the same, nothing would make sense anymore.Daemon had only really understood it after kissing her:it had become impossible to even look at another woman.

He could still remember the first time that he had kissed her,before going to win the war in the Narrow Sea in her father’s name.He had only kissed her once and it had been like savoring the mouth of a fucking divine gift that fell down from heaven,kissing a promise of grace and eternal damnation.An inexperienced,sweet,innocent mouth.

His,Y/n was all his.

She was still a girl at the time,two years younger than her older sister Rhaenyra,just a naive girl that stug with two skinny legs and without even a woman's shape,the silver-haired doll,the trained King's Landing little bird that squeakes and chirps in the shade of her father's words and actions:Y/n, stupid and spoiled princess,daughter of the Long Summer,had let herself be kissed by him and had not stopped him,she had not pushed him away.

Crazy him and crazy her.Or maybe just him, or maybe just her.Who went crazy first,who did? Who had it been?Daemom didn't remember the fucking way those damn events that had folded him in two,disintegrated his entire soul.Killed him not once but a hundred,a thousand,a thousand and again a thousand times.

Who went crazy first?Who?Daemon has started to believe it was him.

It’s been years since the last time he had kissed Y/n,years since he last touched her warm skin,looked into her bright lilac eyes,that he had saw her with their daughters in her arms.

Yet,that night,in the dark and anguish halls of Harrenhal,his little bird had shown up to him.The ghost of Y/n imagine had suddenly appeared in a corridor in the west wing yard like an evanescent appearance,like his worst nightmare and had resumed chirping the same nauseating and tormenting phrases she cunningly gave to all her lords,to all her knights.

She had chirped her thanks,the beautiful words she used to tear from the verses of her beloved romantic ballads,which she used to steal from the fairy tales narrated with placid fervor from the endless rows of her old and decrepit Septas.

She had chirped and chirped and chirped.

Daemon hadn't listened to any of her melancholic sentences and hadn't even paid the slightest attention to her,nothing at all.So the deities and that witch then must have decided to punish him and mock him.They had taken their revenge on all his blasphemies and on all the lives he had snatched with joy.

The pale light of the moon had begun to inflame Y/n long silver braids,braids knotted in a bushy tangle,shaped into circles of blood rays that made her hairstyle look like the one of a small child.The young and innocent girl she once was before Daemon had touched her.A stupid hairstyle that she persided - with a pout - to make her maidens intertwine just like her mother did when she was just a small child.

The red dress that wrapped perfectly around her body,the one that she had wore at the tourney for her last Name Day as a maiden,seemed made of pure liquid blood.Daemon was lost.The red had become fire,it had turned into copper,it had melted into wine.A crown of thorns and autumn leaves in the cold wind of the godswood.

Y/n rosy mouth had stretched out in a brief,false smile,yet what was really false about her?And her elusive purple eyes had reminded him of reality.

The reality where she no longer existed,the one where now he was married to his older sister.He just wants to use her.Everyone uses everyone.He remind himself,he could never love her,not in the way he still loves Y/n.

Suddenly Daemon had realized the existence of his foolish thoughts,he had awakened by the torpor in which her sweet and familiar scent had induced him,and he had understood that he was behaving like a little child that had just woken up from a bed dream,an inexperienced young boy,he looked at her hair,looked at her ephelids,and didn't focus on those small stall tits and her flat,tight belly,and then he thought he had to fix it,that he had to prove to himself that he was a man.

Not the silly man who secretly watched the tears entangled in the eyelashes of a little girl who still slept with the dolls,squeezed in his little embrace,but the real man who fucked women in brothels and got rid of all his most itchy desires. Not the man who trembled in front of a little girl's gaze,but the man who fucked the women quickly and impatiently,without even looking them in the face,fulfilling his needs and his morbid needs.

The man that Daemon was before devoting his life,heart and soul to Y/n.

These thoughts had clouded his soaky mind with vulgar images,they had made his body drunk and frenny.Then he had stretched out towards Y/n, almost staggering,and had devoured her face. Mouth to mouth,he had eaten her lies and her breath.Was it really her,the spectral and little figure that had hunted him since he had step in Harrenhal?Was it really her,the cold and young body he was holding in his arms?He didn’t cared,he needed to feel what he once called love.

His little girl still tasted good,just like he remembered,something sweet,extremely pure. Snow and honey together,what an absurd madness of the senses.Y/n had closed her mouth,her lips soft and eyelids tight,but she had done nothing else.She hadn't disappeared from his touch just like the night before,his rough hands that had begun to mess up her hair and squeeze her thin throat like they used to.

They had kept both eyes closed and he had thought that she was beautiful even in the dark of the dull and worn lights,even in the black of the lowered eyelashes,under the Sun or under the Moon.

Y/n was still as beautiful as the day he had lost her.

And now that she was there,real or not,Daemon had kissed her with a disturbing need and Y/n mouth had moved on his without opening,without granting him anything more.Nothing more of what he already had when she was flourishing with life.

In that moment a cold wind had crept all over his back,until it even caressed his neck and wet cheeks.When did he started crying?Too late he had realized that it had not been a cold wind that had appeased his burns.

«Y/n,my Y/n.»Daemon had murmured«My little bird of the summer,my frightened little bird.»he kept talking on her lips.

«Uncle.»even her voice sounded like she was still that young girl he used to watch run to him,blushing when he would bring her a gift from one of the cities he had visited.

She had caressed his pained face and kissed him like a little girl who can't even imagine that there is anything else after a kiss on the lips.Like a sweet child that still dreamed and hoped for a bright and long future ahead of her.

Maybe at that moment Daemon must have said her name again,because the figure in his arms smiled«Y/n,my little girl,Y/n.»like a prayer.

«Do you still desire me,uncle?Do you still think about me?»her voice,a soft whisper,that cut into his heart.

How naive and stupid,stupid little woman.

He could have turned her like a worn sock,lifted her skirt and possessed it in any dark corner of the castle,stretched her on the floor and forced her to open her legs for him.For him,only for him. First the knees,then the thighs,until he devour her with his hands and tongue,until he fuck her all.

That little creature who didn't even know the thoughts that animated the minds of the men around her,the minds of all animal men just like him.He could have done anything to her,anything unimaginable and unpronounceable,and continued to devour her for whole hours,years and centurie, millennia and other millennia,to the point of satisfying her every repressed need and even more.

And Daemon did it,fulfilling his duties as a husband that resulted in the living love that took form in their twin daughters and son.

He enjoyed her,eat her,mark her at every possible point.He could have done anything for her even now.But Y/n had placed a hand on his heart and more snow had fallen into his chest,appeasing his every pain,every craving.

«Or is my sister crown that you lust over now?»Y/n sharp tongue managed to open another cut in his chest.

Yes,he wanted Rhaenyra crown but it was her he wanted to make his Queen.It’s always been like that,in his deepest dreams,to rule by her side,to pass the throne to their son and be with her forever to the end of his days.

«It’s always ever been you and i’m sorry that this has costed your life.»Daemon words were half stuck in his throat.

Stupid little girl,stupid.She was too good for him.She was pathetically pure.She will never be able to survive in this world,she would become food donated to dogs and worms.Another dead flesh left danging on the spades of this rotten and corrupt castle from the slimy foundation.Another head detached from one's body and turned into a trophy to show to enemies.

Another life that he had ruined.

The images of these elucubrations of his had scared him so much was he afraid?Was the burning in the pupils and ribs fear of seeing her dead or desire to kill or even a fever to possess her?To push her away from his arms,from his belly outstretched towards her.

Daemon had already lost Y/n once,in their old shared chambers of the Red Keep,drenched in sweat and blood.Screaming in fear and pain,just like her mother,as she gave birth to their son.A life for a life,the child survived and the mother died without being able to meet each other.

And now she was there,after so many years,Daemon had only glimpsed at her wet lips and red cheeks,then started yelling at her to leave.It wasn’t real,nothing of this was,his wife,his Y/n was dead,ashes in the wind.

«Go away.Get away right away or you'll regret it.I'll make you regret it,I swear to you.I'll make you regret anything you've ever done or thought if you don't leave now.Go away!»Daemon was screaming like a mad man,but his words were not directed towards Y/n.

His crude and harsh words were echoed only for the silent witch that lived in that old and empty castle.

He must have insulted her,or he had cursed the bastard witch back.He didn’t cared because now Y/n had escaped from his head and eyes with every new sip of wine that he took once he walked back into the dark halls.

Her ethereal figure disappeared at each red bottom of a cup he had swallowed in an attempt to forget the circles of her damn braids.A new cup of wine at every turn of the silver locks and then a hysterical laugh every moment he saw the lilac eyes of that damn girl in the accusatory ones of the witch who sat next to him.

«You are rather unrequited tonight,your grace.What’s bothering you?»Alys Rivers was her name and her voice was as enchanting as her looks.

A punch against the table at every drop of watered down flavor,at every cup of all those lousy drinks that she had given him to help him sleep.A mediocre taste that made him miss better flavors - the taste of him.

Almost as she could read his mind«In love?You?»Alys sound surprised.

And a thud in the heart as every second passes,at the stroke of the hours,at the slow formation of a nebulous wall of chaos inside him.Honey,snow,sweet salt of tears never shed. What was happening to him?What was going on in his head,in his sternum,between his legs?Had Alys poisoned him?

«Y/n.»she spoke again«The little girl that you used to bounce on your knees,the woman that died to give you an heir.»she taunted him,the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Daemon felt his heart shatter in his chest,pain at every breath.His hands burning like the rest of his body,the wine down his throat ready to choke him with all his guilt.

«Where is she?»he asked then,turning to look at the woman next to him.

Where is Y/n?

He had screamed at her out in the gardens and she was gone,she had flown away.

«Where is she?Tell me.Tell me where she is!»the cups on the wooden table crushed on the floor,the cold stones now painted of red wine.

«Where is Y/n?»Alys asked calmly,not even getting up from her chair as his grace thrown everything around«The little girl is far away.But she’s not unreachable,you will see her again soon.»she answered him.

Daemon had was spinning,he felt the nausea coming up from his stomach.He tried to walk and a gag forced him to kneel on the ground,to throw his head against the floor.

«Y/n,my little bird,Y/n.Y/n where are you?»he choked out.

She was there,he had seen her just a few moments before and the other previous nights that he had spent in Harrenhal.He held her,kissed her and it felt so real.She didn't run away,she didn't cry,she didn't even lower her head.Nothing,nothing of nothing.She just looked at him for a second and then she left.

Now she was gone,again.She was gone,Y/n,was gone and Daemon wanted her back,like he had always wanted her,he couldn’t breathe,Y/n come back to him.

Come back,stupid little girl,come back here right away.One moment,he needed to touch her,to kiss her,to have her,just another moment to share with her.His little girl,his little bird.His,his,his,she had always been his.Come back,he needed to hold her and protect her.He would protect her from anyone,even himself if she was so afraid.He was scared too.

«Your grace?»Alys voice was distant,loosing itself in the air.

Daemon crawled on the wet floor,getting up«The little bird.I have to find,I have to find...»the world became dark and dyed of red.There was laughter around his body and someone sneering his name.

«I have to find...»he repeated.

He had to look for her.He hadn't been able to resist her,he hadn't slept even a minute.He had walked around the castle like a mad man,reaching his chambers only to find her inside.

The room looked like the one they lived in the Red Keep,warm and familiar.A small figure appeared,wearing a old white nightgown drenched in blood,pale hair wild on her head in the same that she had died in.

Y/n was there,holding to her chest a child wrapped into a blue blanket like a present.Their son,the joyful and smart boy that looked exactly like his mother and that she had never even seen before closing her eyes forever.She was sitting and crying .He had felt like he was dying and had taken a few uncertain steps.His eyes had moved frantically and they had glimpsed the blood-stained sheets,the stained dress on her thighs, the hands holding the child.

As soon as Y/n had seen him,with shiny eyes, huge tears on that small face she had brought her red fingers on her lips,as if to ask him to be silent as she rocked her baby.The smell of iron had never disgusted him,never shaken him,not until that moment.The little girl's legs had continued to drip and form spots on slippery spots on the floor.

«You always wanted a son.»Y/n voice was paralyzing«I should have know that this would have been my end.You can never surrender to your desires.»she didn’t looked at him,calmly holding the cloth in her arms but he knew she was accusing him of the same sin his brother had committed.

He had never hated blood with such despair,never hesitated before his duties,never thought of spitting acid on his oldest loyalty«I should have…i should have saved you.»he breathed.

Y/n smiled softly«No,this is the price you have to pay for taking what isn’t yours.The throne,the crown…me.»her empty eyes burned his flesh«You will die here,uncle,and you will loose everything.»she warned him.

Daemon vomited until he almost fainted,almost suffocated in his own vomit.Tears mixed with the pain and guilt on his face and his arms suddenly gave in.He felt hands on his neck and lips near his ear.He hit his head against the floor again and rocky voices pronounced his name more times.

He tried to crawl but threw up again,and then again and again.He couldn't stop anymore.He tried to grab a the chair next to door,but the world began swirling to turn and he lost himself in meaningless images.Before closing his eyes Daemon only saw pale silver birds with broken necks and torn wings.

[blackenedsnow]

Hello! May I request a shadow x reader, where the reader loves him in any form or shape, etc. Imagine Shadow turning into that Doom morph in Sonic X Shadow generations, and reader is still head over heels for him. Admiring his form with gleaming eyes filled with fondness and adoration, plus readers curiosity of touching those tentacles, or all of him in general.

Thank you!

unwavering adoration

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for requesting this! Hope you enjoy :)

SUMMARY: You’ve always admired Shadow in every way. When you stumble upon him in his Doom morph, your reaction catches him off guard—but in the best way.

You had always loved every part of Shadow, from his calm, stoic strength to his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about. But even after all this time, it was clear he still kept parts of himself hidden.

When you stumbled across him in his other form—a figure with dark, twisting tentacles and an otherworldly aura swirling around him—you felt a spark of intrigue and awe instead of the fear he probably expected.

"Shadow?" you whispered, taking a cautious step forward. "Is… that you?"

A deep, layered voice responded. “Yes. I didn't mean for you to see me like this. Sorry.” His words sounded richer, darker somehow, like they were coming from another realm altogether.

You couldn’t stop the wonder from spreading across your face as you studied the mysterious form before you. Shadow was still himself, but there was a supernatural energy that gave him a powerful, almost regal presence. “You can talk like that? That's amazing.”

Shadow tilted his head, his red eyes glowing with an intensity that could intimidate anyone but you. “You’re… not frightened?”

You shook your head, absolutely fascinated. “No way. It’s… beautiful. Can I…?” You hesitated, then reached out toward one of the dark, smooth tentacles, curiosity radiating from you.

He nodded, watching you carefully. “If you wish.”

Your fingers lightly brushed one of the tentacles. It was cool and smooth to the touch, surprisingly gentle as it wrapped around your hand, almost instinctively curling to hold you. You laughed softly, beaming at him.

“They’re so cool,” you murmured, running your fingers along the tentacle, and then up to where it connected to his shoulder. “I had no idea you could look like this.”

Shadow’s gaze softened as he watched you explore his form without fear or hesitation. “It’s… a part of me I didn’t think you’d ever see,” he admitted quietly. “This form was something I thought best kept… hidden.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be.” You smiled up at him, your admiration evident in your eyes. “I think it’s incredible. It’s just another side of you.”

For the first time, Shadow felt a sense of pride in his other form. Not because of its power or fearsome nature, but because you saw it as something worthy of appreciation.

“I could stay in this form a bit longer,” he offered quietly, voice dipping into that layered tone that sent a pleasant shiver through you. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

You grinned, nodding eagerly. “I’m more than comfortable. There’s just… so much to take in.” You took a small step back, letting your eyes roam over his figure, noting the way the dark energy seemed to pulse and breathe around him, as though alive in its own right.

Shadow’s gaze softened further. “Then take all the time you need.”

You reached out once more, this time trailing your fingers along the glowing red markings on him. They were cool to the touch, and you swore you felt a subtle thrum of power beneath your fingertips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, Shadow,” you whispered, voice filled with gentle affection. “I’ll always want every part of you, no matter what it looks like.”

For the first time, he seemed to struggle for words, caught off guard by the depth of your acceptance. “I never expected anyone to feel… this way about it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself truly relax, feeling the trust between you deepen.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a softness in his expression, the faintest trace of a smile gracing his features. “Thank you,” he murmured.

You gazed up at him with the same unyielding fondness. “You’ll never need to thank me for that. Being with you—every part of you—is my choice.”

The air between you felt charged with a shared understanding, a quiet intimacy that transcended even words. Shadow gently wrapped one of his tentacles around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle embrace, his gaze lingering on you with gratitude.

As you rested against him, feeling the unique combination of warmth and otherworldly energy that surrounded him, you knew one thing for certain: there would never be a side of Shadow you couldn’t love.

[littleprinces]

For My Stepsister

Yeseo x M! Reader

Stepcest and lil bit rough

I had always had a thing for my Korean stepsister, Yeseo. She was a few years younger than me, but she had a body that could rival any woman twice her age. She had long, black hair that cascaded down her back in waves, and her skin was smooth and flawless. Her eyes were almond-shaped and a deep, dark brown that seemed to see right through me. She had full, pouty lips that I couldn't help but imagine wrapped around my cock.

I had been trying to seduce Yeseo for months, but she had always kept me at arm's length. She knew that I wanted her, and she enjoyed teasing me with her body and her flirtatious comments. But she had never let me take it any further than that.

That all changed one night when we were out at a club together. We had been dancing and drinking, and Yeseo was looking more sexy than ever. Her body was slick with sweat, and her dress clung to her curves like a second skin. I couldn't resist any longer. I pulled her close and whispered in her ear,

"I want to fuck you, Yeseo. I want to make you scream my name and beg for more."

To my surprise, she didn't push me away. Instead, she looked up at me with a wicked grin and said, "Prove it, Oppa."

I didn't need any further encouragement. I grabbed her hand and led her out of the club, not caring who saw us. We stumbled into an alley, and I pushed her up against the wall. I crushed my lips to hers, and she responded eagerly, our tongues twisting together in a passionate dance.

I reached down and grabbed her ass, squeezing it roughly. She moaned into my mouth, and I knew she was ready for more. I slid my hand up her thigh and under her dress, finding her wet and ready for me. I slipped a finger inside her, and she gasped, her pussy clenching around me.

"Fuck, Yeseo, you're so wet," I groaned, adding a second finger. She whimpered and rode my hand, her hips moving in time with my fingers.

"I want you inside me, Oppa" she begged, her voice husky with desire. "Please, fuck me."

I didn't need to be asked twice. I pulled my fingers out of her and unzipped my pants, freeing my rock-hard cock. I positioned it at her entrance and thrust inside her, making her cry out with pleasure.

I fucked her hard and fast, slamming into her over and over again. She wrapped her legs around my waist and held on for dear life, her nails digging into my back.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, her pussy milking my cock.

I could feel myself getting close, and I knew I needed to make this good for her. I reached down and started rubbing her clit, making her moan even louder.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum," she cried out, her pussy tightening around me.

I didn't let up, continuing to fuck her and rub her clit until she screamed my name and came hard, her pussy flooding with wetness.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I groaned and pulled out, cumming all over her stomach.

We stood there for a moment, panting and trying to catch our breath.

"That was amazing," Yeseo said, grinning up at me.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed, still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"I want more," she said, her eyes sparkling with desire.

"More?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, fill my throat with your big cock, oppa," she said, licking her lips.

I didn't need any further encouragement. I grabbed her head and guided her down to my cock, watching as she took me deep into her throat.

I fucked her mouth just as hard as I had fucked her pussy, making her gag and choke on my cock. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes, and I knew I had her right where I wanted her.

I came hard, shooting my load down her throat. She swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, Yeseo, you're amazing," I said, pulling her to her feet.

"I know," she said, smirking at me.

I knew I had to have more of her, and I was determined to make her mine.

"That was incredible," Yeseo said, grinning up at me.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed, pulling her close.

I knew I had found my perfect partner, and I was never letting her go.

[lady-ashfade]

Mates By Fate

Various Hybrid!Characters x Human!Fem!Reader.

Plot: The adoption center is filled with many different hybrids from all sorts. But when one gets a whiff of your scent that they can’t help but get excited to see you.

Characters: Rabbit!Izuku midoriya, Wolf!Katsuki Bakugo, Dog!Eijiro Kirishima, Cat!Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: quick adoption, licking, love at first sight, mention of dark past, not much.

Rabbit! Izuku Midoriya

The building was filled with all types of noises, from barks to meows, even some growls. Some hybrids were out playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or maybe they enjoyed their own company. Izuku was watching a movie that had come on just in time for his break. All hybrids get a break from the others to focus on themselves if needed, and he decided to watch his favorite movie. Super Hybrid: All might. Oh, how he adored the movie and the man it was about. His room filled with decorations of Allmight himself, posters on every wall.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen when the scene came on. Allmight fighting a bad guy, his tail smacking him around from place to place. It was like watching it for the first time, he was on the edge of his seat cheering at the screen for his hero. Not much could get his attention away from this movie, so when a scent came into his nose it peaked his interest. What was that smell? So sweet, soft yet bold, how could something smell so perfect? His flappy ears stood up and his attention drew to the hallway where his door was cracked open. Grabbing the remote be paused the movie and walked to the door.

He poked his head out slowly to see what was going on and if he could find the source of the smell. Then he saw the owner of the adoption center in the middle of the hallway, then a woman standing next to her about three doors down. A hybrid with droopy ears likes his but brown, the hybrid rubbed her head against the new woman’s hand as she smiled. When he saw you, he felt the world crash onto him with a kick to the chest.

Mate.

The words rang through his head and made his body tense up at the thought of having you in his life. But, he couldn’t have a mate? And not someone as pretty as you? He cheeks heated up while staring at you with wide eyes frozen in the doorway to his room. He could hear your conversation but didn’t truly listen, the words sounding like muffles to him. But a few seconds later your head turned when the owner said something and you looked right at him.

He yelps and slips back into his room quickly from being caught and your attention. His heart raced as fast as it could go as he panicked over every detail. Did you really see him? Was he imagining you here? What if this was a dream and he’d wake up mateless again? What if you don’t want him as a mate anyway? So many questions ran through his speedy head and made him panic.

“Izuku,” the old woman’s sweet voice called him out of his thoughts as she walked into the open room. “We have a visitor, like to meet them?” Your frame shuffled into the room and waved softly, the smile on your lips look like heaven. All he could do is stare and mumble nervously with words you couldn’t understand.

“He’s shy, but he’s a good hybrid to have around.” You nodded and reached into your pocket and his attention calmed down at the other scent he loved. Treats. A brown little heart shaped treat rest in your hands and pushed it towards him. “Hello, Izuku. My names Y/n.” The name engraved itself into his brain. The excitement finally washed over him and shot throughout his body, making him so happy that his leg started to tap and take the treat into his mouth.

He was so happy as he chew and you watched his nose crinkle with each bite, his happy feet bouncing. You giggled at the sight, he was your favorite by far. “I’ll let you have some time with him, seeing as he’s your perfect match. I shall be just outside with the other hybrids, call if you need anything.” She bowed and walked out the room.

You look at izuku and a nervous smile spread your face as he inched closer, no threatening gestures but with a curious look. His noses sniffed around your hand and up your wrists, he looked so focused. Then he nudged his faces across it like he was petting himself and your heart exploded. He looked so happy and relaxed with your touch.

“Mate.” He muttered and you froze up. Did he say that or was it a mistake…Mate? That’s interesting but you can’t help but feel like it was right. “Tell me, do you want me to take you home?” He jumped up and hugged your leg and you almost fell. Laughing you reach down to pet this hair.

He was interesting, he couldn’t get himself off of you. But he was perfectly sweet.

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki is wasn’t one for social interaction, especially with new people he had just meet. Whenever someone came to look at the hybrids he wouldn’t let them get near and just walk off or give them attitude. He was adopted once before and it was the worst time of his life, humans were cruel and he knew damn well they couldn’t put up with him. So he put off the idea that he would find someone nice enough.

Kats didn’t get along with the other hybrids, only a selected group he allowed near him. If he wasn’t hanging around them then he was outside in the shade, or playing with a chew toy that need to be replaced each day. He loved to be outside a few hours because he had a lot of energy he couldn’t release inside. Today he decided to take a break and lay on the ground to take a quick nap, the shade and sun making him tired. Then, his nose picked up a scent. Shooting his head up from his resting place his head looked around for the scent he was smelling.

This wasn’t food, it wasn’t like anything he’s ever smelled before. It was the perfect smell for him. He craved to get near the source. So he stood up and looked around, his tail wagging behind him. Big and thick with blonde and white with brown tips like his ears. “Shit.” He smelled it out and followed trail. A beautiful laugh caught his ears and he looked up to see a woman smiling with the owner, a hybrid getting their head pat. Her. It was coming from her.

Mate. Claim. Mate.

She was his mate, his tail wagged harder but his head gave him trouble. He didn’t need a mate, and not a shitty human at that. What was she trying to do? He’s a alpha and not some pet she could keep in her house- But he wanted it. To be close to her at every second to keep he safe and sound. He groaned and fell close to the ground and behind the flowers, the garden being filled with big places with high planted flowers. It was easy for him to crawl closer without being caught, after all it was in his blood to hunt.

He got closer and watched for a second. “I’ll leave you to look around, I know of a few hybrids out here. A snake one, he’s usually in the trees and many others.” She smiles and took the cat hybrid inside, leaving you alone. Smiling to yourself and straighten your blouses then walk over to the flowers, smelling them. Bakugo wiggled his body and got ready to pounce on you, why? He just felt like it. But when you giggled and looked over at his direction he froze in shock and confusion.

“There’s a mirror wall behind you,” you look a seat on the bench beside you. “But don’t be discouraged, you would of had me.” The lighthearted tone in your voice made him heat up, and your smile with no anger in it. He rolled his eyes and stood up, inching closer to you with a glare, a low growl leaving his lips to imitate you with fear. You only smiled and pulled out a big threat, a bone shaped one.

“I apologize if I offended you, it was not my intention.” Standing up slowly you tossed the treat softly before him.  “But I hope you’ll take this treat as a apology, great wolf.” His ego built up at your praise and felt better. He took the treat and took a few bites. While he was focused on the treat you backed up to leave him alone, not wanted to anger him. Wolfs can be very territorial when it comes to it, so you wouldn’t egg him in. 

“I didn’t say go, damn human.” His tough voice caught you off guard. You turned around to see him soften his glare and look at the bench you once sat at. “Sit.” You smirked for a second and walked back to the bench and did as he said. He was adorable. You stuck out your hand for him to sniff and he hesitated, looking up at you like asking permission or to get a read on you. But you only flashed him a eye closing smile.

His noses poked your hand and sniffed all around to take in your scent in, and his body turned into mush. Your scent, he craved it. “Damn, of course it be a human.” He huffed and crossed his arms. You looked at him confused, “Hmm?” Kats rolled his eyes hard and pointed at you, “Mate.” He enjoyed how you looked at him in shock and flustered.

“Now, go get the paper work done so I can leave. I wouldn’t let anyone leave with you today wether you like it or not.” His tail stomped the ground as his teeth really showed to threaten the people he thought of. “Well? Go!” You giggled and rushed away from the shouting hybrid, a rough one.

He was demanding and didn’t care. He however, was loving on the way to your house so you didn’t mind.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto is a hybrid that likes to take naps, his cat like nature is strong. The sunlight can make him fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place. He also loves to climb up on things to take a nice nap, mostly on a cat like tree they have for hybrids. He also has a scratching problem but not in a bad way, he just needs to stretch often. Those are the things he does in a day. Wake up, scratch, eat, Nap, scratch and then repeat. However he does hang out with some hybrids on occasion.

Today Shotos place of choice was in front of the art rooms door, so close to getting hit if someone opened the door fully. The hybrid didn’t notice this when he went to sleep or he would have scooted a bit further. You wanted to explore the place and decide to check the art room to see what’s it was like. When you opened the door you didn’t see the hybrid behind you, only a tail that curled and swung slowly. Stopping and not pushing the door any further you walked through the gap and poke your head around to see the hybrid laying there.

His hair mix toned, red and white. His tail thin but long, white fur all the way down. But his ears matched the hair on each side, he was gorgeous. You smile and push all the way in the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle him. Kneeling down a few inches from him you start to call out softly for him to walk up. Clinking your tongue, “Little buddy, wake up please.” You repeated that line over and over. But he wasn’t little, only a small frame but you could see the muscles he had and how tall he was.

He slowly opened his eyes with a yawn, confused on what was going on. When he noticed you his demeanor changed slight. His face dropping and staring you, with almost a cold glare. Chuckling to not be afraid you step back, “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door.” You glanced at the door and showed him what you meant. But he didn’t stop staring at you with a unreadable expression.

Shoto was freaking out inside. Your scent drove him insane, one he wanted to run and nuzzle up to. He couldn’t look away from your pretty face or he would have. What was this? Had you have some sort of magic to bewitched him? Why was his body on fire? He had so many emotions and non of them made sense. Until his mouth started to water..

Mate.

The clicking sound echoed through his brain when he realized what you were to him. A mate. Fate was funny about bringing people together and he didn’t have to find you, you found him. “Hello?” You waved a hand in front of your face as he continued to be silent and frozen. He blinked finally and you felt relieved. “Call me shoto.” You hummed at the calming tone. “Y/n.” You reached out your hand with a smile. Of course he couldn’t hold himself back from taking it and sniffing you.

Your scent was so nice to smell, calming but made his blood pump. You had weird affects on his body. You watch him sniff you and it made you laugh as he kept hitting his nose against the center. He was booping his own nose. Then he did something unexpected and licked your hand softly. To give affection he kept doing it, small licks. Nothing more to the eyes. Only he did it to get his scent on you.

“Adopt me.” He look up at you blankly and you were taken aback by his boldness. “We just met, don’t you want to get a know me first?” You asked. Most hybrids take a week at least before getting comfortable with a owner, or at least a whole day. “I know all I need, you are my mate of course.” He nuzzled against your hand as his tail swayed around smoothly.

“Mates?” You questioned but couldn’t help but rub his cheek, he purred so loudly you could feel it. “Hmm, smell you. Us hybrids have mates, or some do and mine is you.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Now, I’m tired. Could you go get everything done so I can’t go back to napping?”

You took shoto home that night and he fell asleep on your nap. Followed you around the house with his head in your shoulders.

Eijiro Kirishima

Kiri likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. He always has a smile on his face to cheer and play with the others, the big brother of the estate. His dream is to one day have a forever home with a family that loves him but worries about being worthy. Despite always tell the others they’d get adopted or cheer them up, he felt the same way. But he puts it off and has fun instead, he’s very active. They had to build a new playground area just for him and hybrids like him who are rough but playful.

Kiri today was in the playroom all by himself and it saddens him, no one to play with. He’d have the rope in his mouth and swing it around almost like a weapon. Or jumping around from the bars to places, or his favorite. Catch. They had a device to throw the ball automatically and he loved it, almost as much as someone actually throwing him the ball. Kiri watched the ball get shot out and hit the table making it change direction to the door. To his surprise the door opened just as the ball rolled on the floor and stop between someone’s leg. His mind focused on the ball he chased after it.

His legs ran to catch the small object and only to be caught in another trance caused by a smell, a delicious smell. Stopping in his tracks he froze and looked up at the person at the door who now looked at the ball between her feet. A smile spread on her lips when she bent down to pick it up. The smell was coming from her. Was it a treat in her pocket? What flavor was it? That smell was heaven to his nose, like it was made just for him.

Mate.

Giggling you looked at the pup in front of you, a grip on the ball “Want me to throw it?” You wiggled it slightly. Thump thump. The sound of his huge fluffy tail hit the floor as he panted quietly. He was so excited. “Get it.” You threw it past him and made sure not to hit anything but far for him to have fun. He leaped up and chased after it, so fast and quick. It was cute to watch him bite the ball and chew down on it slightly then look back at you. He pranced back to you with his tail wagging, a pride filled aura as he puffed out his chest.

He dropped the ball at your feet and sat back on the floor, his tongue sticking out. “Awe, such a good boy.” You reached down to pet his head but gave him enough time to pull away if he’d like. But he didn’t so your hand patted the red hair, slightly touching the ears on his head. “My names Y/n.” Without a warning he jumps up and knocks you down, leaning onto of you and starts to lick across your face. His hands on your chest and tail making a breeze.

You laughed and tried to move but he didn’t let up on his actions. You smelled too good. You called him a good boy. A perfect mate for him. He leaned up and didn’t let his hands up from your stomach. “Eijiro Kirishima.” His smile was so wide you saw his teeth that looked perfectly white and sharp. Taking a breath you smile up at the hybrid you just met. “Nice to met you.” He jumped off you and waited for you to get up.

When you did you brushed off yourself and whipped your face off. Kiri stood up finally and you looked up at him, he was one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen. Blushing at his height you giggled, he was just a huge puppy. “Are you here to adopt?” He asked, his ears and tail stopping and going down. You could tell he was sad and you wondered why.

“Yes, I am.” You see him look at the floor and a sad smile grew on his face. “They’d be luck to have you.” The heart in your chest shattered at his tone, so quick to dismiss himself. “Would you be willing to get adopted? I was looking for a dog hybrid…If you’re willing.” Kiri’s head shit up and his body started to wage and bounce. The sparkle in his eyes reappeared and his happiness coming back.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapping themselves around you and pulling you closer, his tongue licking your cheek. You patted his head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You didn’t expect to meet the hybrid of your dreams on the first day of looking but here he was. “Mate, going home with my mate.” His words made you tense up. Mate? Does he think you’re his mate… Why doesn’t that not sound wrong?

“Okay, let’s go so I can go to the office.” He whined and hugged you closer. His head rested on your shoulder and he refused to let you go, he had a person for the first time. Too soon to let go. “You can come with him, but I need to walk.” He felt your chest vibrate with laughter and he huffed. His arms let your waist go but hooked on your arm instead.

You didn’t expect him to be so clingy and protective over you but that’s what he was. You’re now his home. But there’s no other pup for you.

[kawoala]

hi!! i would like to request sakusa having a very cheerful girlfriend who gradually changes her appearance little by little, he doesn’t notice it because he thinks she’s beautiful in any way, like lets say she used to have this fluffy wavy hair then she just smoothen it and her clothes used to have fun patterns on them now its just plain. then one day he just goes “what happened to your hair?” And she just breaks down because she did all that so that she could fit into his ‘type’. you can make it as fluffy or as angsty as you wantt, thank youu sm💗💗

𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 fit in word count ; (777) content warning ; (first time writing for him BEAR WITH ME, curly hair! reader, insecurity, angst to comfort, profanity, crying)

It starts off small. So small, in fact, that Kiyoomi convinces himself that he’s imagining things.

The first thing he notices is small. A mute blue hoodie instead of your usual bright yellow one. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. He thought it was odd at the moment, but assumed you just hadn’t done laundry.

The next thing he notices is that you’ve been gradually replacing your loud jewelry— different shaped beads of all shapes and colors— with simple, silver jewelry. He wants to comment on it, but he assumes you’re just trying out new things. You’ve always liked to do that, right?

When you start straightening your hair more often and wearing it in slick-backs, he’s confused. You’re basically a shell of your past self by now. Fun, loud colors turned to dark, muted colors. If he was paying closer attention, he would compare it to his own closet and see the similarity. Jewelry that clinks against each other with each step, is now a simple chain with a heart pendant. Your beautiful curly hair— now straight, hanging down your back as you do the dishes.

Kiyoomi sits at the dining room table, eyes narrowed as he pieces all of this change together. His chin is in his hand, his elbow on the table, one finger framing his face. He wants to say something— badly. But if he does? Who knows what will happen. Maybe you’re just growing. That’s a thing people do, right? People change over the years. Kiyoomi knows he sure as hell has.

“You straightened your hair,” he finally says, breaking the silence. He watches as you stop scrubbing the dish you're holding. “And you stopped wearing your jewelry.”

You hesitate to answer, he can see that. Your body twitches as if it’s going to turn around, but you don’t. You continue scrubbing at the dish. “I, um, got overstimulated. Couldn’t deal with the curls and the, uh, loud beads.”

Kiyoomi hums, because he knows you’re lying. There’s a shake to your voice that he can’t quite place.

“Do you not like it?” Your voice is quiet. Tentative. Timid. Something he’s never heard from you before.

He stands from the table and walks over to you, standing directly behind you. “I love you in all shapes and forms,” he says. “But you straightened your hair yesterday. And the day before that. And you put your jewelry in a box in the closet.” You turn to look at him, eyes widened a fraction. “Yeah, I saw it.” He frowns. “What’s going on? Why are you… changing yourself?”

You press your lips together and avoid his eyes. He takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. His heart skips at the sight of tears on your waterline. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“I… I was just…” you can’t even get your sentence out. “You’re so clean. You and your family are… You’re nice and proper and rich and I am not. I am loud and obnoxious and I dress like an elementary school teacher and my hair is loud and big and I do not fit in with you.”

Kiyoomi is stunned. The words tumble out of your mouth, tears fall down your cheeks and Kiyoomi can’t move. His lips part in a desperate attempt to speak, but nothing comes out.

Kiyoomi has never been one for physical affection. Growing up, his parents never hugged him. His sister was much older, so she wasn’t around to fulfill that either. But in this moment, as the tears don’t stop and you’re practically choking on your own breath, Kiyoomi presses your face into his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“You are perfect just the way you are,” Kiyoomi mumbles into your hair. “I love your big, curly hair and I love the way you dress and I love you. You don’t need to change who you are just because you think you don’t fit in. You do fit in with me. And who gives a fuck what my parents think, hm? They don’t even know you, Y/n, but if they did, they would love you too. It’s not how you dress, or how you act, it’s you. I love you.”

Slowly but surely, your breathing steadies. You’re no longer choking on your own breath, no longer shaking. You keep your face pressed into his chest.

You pull away eventually and stare up at him with big, wet eyes. “I love you too.”

He presses another kiss into your hair and smiles down at you. “Good. Now, what do you want for dinner? I’ll make it tonight, okay?”

[perotovar]

limits — a minotaur!joel fic

pairing: minotaur!joel miller x m!oc/reader (unnamed and undescribed) rating: E (18+ mdni) word count: 2.2k content: au, porn with a little plot (but not really), monster fucking, joel is a literal bull-man, he doesn't speak but he understands humans, hentai logic/physics, don't think too hard about how this works physically, unprotected p in a, so much cum (like, a lot), breeding kink, aftercare, tiny bit of dubcon (if you squint), size kink, omegaverse dynamics/rules dividers: by @/saradika-graphics beta: @kedsandtubesocks (ily omg)

summary: so like, imagine a world where bulls evolved to be bi-pedal and can mate with humans, but it's not a common practice. don't think too hard about it, just imagine you're a new farm hand/stable boy and caught the attention of one of those bulls, okay?

written as a part of @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett 's Monster (S)mash challenge (so sorry for how late this is forgive meeee)

“Seein’ as it’s your first day, kid, I should warn ya,” the farmer started, resting an elbow on a bent knee, his foot resting on the fence in front of them. “This time’a year the bulls get a bit… restless.”

The young man blinked, cheeks heating up as he listened. “B-but aren’t they more focused on the cows?”

The farmer laughed, chewing on his tobacco as he watched the cows roam. “Well, sure, but they don’t seem to care much when they get like this. Just gotta put yer foot down and they’ll leave ya be, promise.”

The boy nodded and swallowed around a lump in his throat. He needed this job something fierce so a few horny bulls weren’t going to keep him from that. 

“Help me get that hay to the horses, wouldja?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wiping sweat from his brow, the young man smiled down at the work he’d accomplished. He looked to his left and saw the large bull pen. He’d been working on the farm as a hand for a little over a week now and had successfully avoided any unwanted attention so far.

He’d been learning all the animal’s names as well as their personalities and temperaments. Maggie was a lovely cow, a bit of a loner, but sweet as can be. Rex was easily the meanest of all the bulls, and he had to be taken away from the cows pretty often. 

But, Joel, well. He was easily the biggest of all the bulls. He was another loner, but in a distinctly different way than Maggie was. He stood at an imposing 9ft tall (horns not included) and had dark, curly fur that covered his whole body. His torso was barrel-shaped and as tough as any leather. 

The young man didn’t have much experience working with Joel, that was left to a select few employees on the ranch. Joel didn’t trust many people and whenever breeding season came around, he had to be taken to a secluded area. “Gets downright ravenous, that one,” the farmer had said. “Gotta cycle out the cows so they don’t get too tired.”

The boy had bit his lip in thought when he heard that. According to another hand on the farm, Joel had been the oldest of all the bulls and that was why he got the special treatment. He was the farmer’s favorite, but they didn’t understand why. He was grumpy and stubborn. 

The young man wasn’t surprised to hear that, to be honest. The older a bull got, the more ornery they were. That was just the way of things.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna needja to take care of Joel’s pen for him.”

The young man looked up from his raking and shielded his eyes from the sun. “Oh. Are ya sure?”

“‘Course,” the farmer chuckled. “He’s out back gettin’ a bath, so he’ll need a clean pen to get back to.”

The boy nodded and gulped. “O’course, sir.” The farmer saluted in thanks before taking off to do his own chores. 

Exhaling a heavy breath, the young man grabbed a metal bucket, his rake, and some cleaning supplies before heading in the direction of Joel’s pen.

No one would have blamed him for thinking Joel’s pen would look like a tornado blew through, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.

It was clear where a lot of the rut had been taking place, with a decently sized pile of hay in the corner, but the whole place… reeked. It was musky and heady and thick. The young man wished he’d grabbed some sort of face mask before entering. He’ll probably have to wash his clothes a few times to get the stink out.

“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself, and got to work. There was so much of… Joel everywhere. He hadn’t been around Joel enough to personally know him, but this felt like an invasion of privacy. It looked like any other pen, with a large metal sliding door and roof, but it was clear Joel had marked his territory so no other bull would be caught dead in there.

“Hey, newbie!” Lynn, another hand, greeted cheerfully. Behind her, a large, imposing (and freshly bathed) Joel entered the pen. His big barrel chest heaved heavy breaths, deep eyes locked onto the boy. “Thanks for takin’ care o’ Joel’s pen for ‘im. I’m gonna go find a nice girl for ‘im, I’ll be right back!” She was gone before the young man could respond.

Joel walked closer towards the pile of hay, large snout smelling if things were where they should be. He grunted in approval when he realized his smell was still there. 

The young man watched before putting away his cleaning supplies. He stood frozen to the spot, Joel’s intense eyes making it hard to turn his back and leave. 

“U-um, I’ll just–” The young man pointed his thumb in the direction of the door to leave, but Joel gripped onto his overalls, stopping him in his tracks. “What are you–?”

Joel lifted him high off his feet and planted the young man’s crotch onto his snout. 

“J-Joel! What are you doing?!” He screeched, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Joel ignored him and inhaled the scent deeply, before exhaling a low, very pleased groan. “I’m–! I’m not a cow, I’m not what you want!”

Joel froze and looked the young man deep in the eyes, challenging him. Who was he to know what Joel wanted?

“Um, p-please put me down?” The boy stammered. Just then, his cock stirred in his overalls, betraying him. A twinkle appeared in Joel’s large, dark eye.

Before he knew it, Joel had him bent over a bale of hay with his legs kicked apart. Joel towered over him with a massive paw of a hand keeping his chest pressed to the hay. 

“Joel, please,” he whimpered, his body trembling in fear and… perhaps arousal, he really wasn’t sure. 

Joel huffed in response, asking what he wanted.

“I don’t– Wouldn’t you prefer a cow over… over me?”

Joel grumbled above him and ripped his overalls down his legs, pressing his large, very hard and leaking cock against the young man’s ass. He rolled his strong hips and groaned in response. Joel’s belly rested on top of the young man’s lower back, so he felt every heavy breath he exhaled. 

“I-I guess that answers that question…” He sighed. He hid his face in his arms and whined weakly. “Fine, just… Just do it, okay?”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned over the young man’s body and lifted his t-shirt, teasing his nipples. A large, thick tongue started probing at the young man’s earlobe, making him shiver in response.

“Oh,” he moaned, his own dick twitching to life between his legs. One of Joel’s large hands moved down to his ass to spread his cheeks and assess what he had to work with. Joel grunted appreciatively and started rubbing the boy’s hole in preparation.

A large glob of spit landed on the sensitive skin, easing the way for Joel’s thumb to pierce through. “Oh, fuck,” the boy gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Joel hummed to himself and gripped his cock in his free hand. He started stroking it slowly before slapping the head against the young man’s cheek, giving him an idea of the size.

“Fuck, is… Is that thing gonna fit?”

Joel snorted before slowly pressing the head inside. It felt like the young man’s entire body was set on fire. He couldn’t feel his own legs beneath him, but he felt the pulsing of his cock throbbing between them. All the air left his lungs at once as Joel’s cock entered him further.

Joel stopped once a large thick ridge toward the base kissed the edge of the boy’s rim. He felt lightheaded, his eyes barely staying open as he adjusted to the full length of Joel’s cock.

“O-oh my god, I’m…” The young man trembled, voice pitched up an octave. “Am I dying?”

Joel made a low noise in his chest and leaned over to kiss and lick along the young man’s neck and ear. He was… comforting him, letting him take his time. Joel mooed quietly, almost like he was cooing words of praise to the boy. It made him feel like he could breathe again.

The young man rested his head on the bale of hay and tried to look back at Joel. “Okay, I’m… I think I’m okay,” he smiled sheepishly. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Before Joel started moving, one of his hands moved underneath them and covered the young man’s belly. He felt his cock through the skin, bulging through easily. He groaned in appreciation before adjusting his stance. The young man’s feet were hanging high off the floor of the pen like a ragdoll, his overalls still attached messily around his ankles.

Suddenly, as if someone had whistled for Joel to get started, he fucked hard and deep into the boy. The loud, almost comical sound of his heavy balls slapping against the young man’s tender flesh made him go dizzy. 

Joel gripped onto his narrow hips and set a punishing pace, rutting into him. He breathed heavily and grunted above the boy, sounding far away. 

The young man’s entire body moved back and forth against the hay bale, the scratchy feeling keeping him grounded as he ascended into another plane of existence. He had no idea being stretched so much and fucked so deep could feel so good. He didn’t want this to end. 

Just then, Joel decided he didn’t want that position anymore and lifted the young man into the air so his back was pressed to Joel’s barrel chest. The boy moaned loudly, resting his head on Joel’s broad shoulder.

Joel grunted and started using the boy’s body as if he were a fleshlight, lifting and lowering him at a punishing pace. The amount of precome leaking out of the boy’s hole and around Joel’s cock covered their bodies entirely. 

“I’m– I’m not going to last long, Joel,” the young man gasped, breath hitching with each powerful thrust. His eyes rolled back as Joel’s cock pummeled against his prostate, making him tremble weakly. The boy’s cock slapped lewdly against his lower stomach, precome splattering everywhere.

The boy’s stomach bulged with Joel’s cock, stretching the skin past its limits. He looked down to watch, mesmerized by the sight. How Joel’s cock fit inside him, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Joel groaned deeply, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He must be getting close. 

“C’mon,” the young man whined, turning his head to look at Joel’s face. “Come inside me.”

Joel pushed him back down onto the bale of hay and pushed his cock even further inside. The ridge near the base of Joel’s cock made the boy gasp weakly, gripping onto the hay beneath to ground himself. 

Each smack of Joel’s hips against his ass had him letting out weak noises he didn’t even know he could make. Joel’s horns pierced into the hay as he rested his forehead against the boy’s back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the young man chanted. “C’mon, Joel, please,” he whimpered.

If he could see him, he was certain steam left Joel’s snout as he panted and grunted behind him. Joel made a low groan before slamming one last time against the boy’s prostate and came like a geyser inside him. 

The boy gasped as he was filled up, coming untouched as he felt Joel’s cock pump inside like a hose. He trembled beneath the bull’s body, screaming into the hay. 

Joel exhaled heavily, hands gripped onto the boy’s hips tightly. He moved them slightly and noticed that they’d probably bruise soon. He hummed and leaned over to kiss and lick along the young man’s neck again, this time as an apology. He slowly pulled out and watched as his come poured out lewdly.

The boy panted hard, his body feeling more empty than it ever had in his life. His stomach felt full, though, which made him look down to see. Joel had well and truly filled him, it seemed. He couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving his body, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

Joel climbed onto the bale of hay with him and held the boy close, spooning him comfortingly. He turned the young man’s face and kissed and licked his tears away, mooing praises into his ear. The boy felt like his heart would burst from the tender act and silently cursed whoever called Joel grumpy and mean. 

“That was…” He giggled, breathing heavily. “I hope you got what you were looking for.”

Joel grunted in affirmation and held the boy close, one large hand holding his full belly. It dawned on him then that Joel probably thought that he’d just bred the boy. 

He didn’t have the heart to tell him it wouldn’t take.

“Sir, I had somethin’ to tell ya,” the boy said the next day, running up to the farmer with a bit more pep in his step. 

“What’s that, kid?” The farmer grinned, chewing more tobacco.

“Just wanted to let ya know that I think I cracked ol’ Joel. Think he likes me!”

“No kiddin’? Well, shit, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth! If you’re thinkin’ he won’t mind, you’re welcome to take care o’ his pen for the rest of breedin’ season, then.”

The boy couldn’t stop the wide grin from growing on his face.

[whoreforsexymen]

anything with jayce. I am a slut for jayce. this feels like a confessional.

Time Is A Thief | Jayce Talis

Pairings: Ruined!Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her, Female Anatomical Descriptions. Mainly written in 3rd person, no use of "you".

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI! I am NOT responsible for your media consumption.

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: Minor angst, desperation, reuniting with a lost love, smut, penetrative sex, impatient sex, riding. (MINIMAL DIALOGUE)

Summary: Jayce has been lost to the inevitable future. Driven mad by solitude, when he finally returns home, he's set on tracking down and killing Viktor. Although, he has a personal mission to find the love he lost along the way.

Notes: EEEEEEEEEKKKk! This isn't the greatest smut I've ever written, but I couldn't tarnish the romanticism of the reunion. The smut isn't super good, but I did my best to match the rest of the vibe. Hope yall enjoy <3!! More to come soon!

also, side note, there is a CRITICAL LACK of Ruined!Jayce fics. Okay?! (In Thanos Voice: Fine. I'll do it myself.)

Light.

That was all.

A brilliance so fierce it consumed all thought, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He saw everything, yet nothing at all— no trace of form or substance, only the infinite expanse of void surrounding him.

No shadow, no contour, no shape. Just emptiness. An emptiness that somehow felt full.

A paradox of being— broken, yet whole; whole, yet hollow; dead, yet alive.

Nothing made sense. Only the pulse of the moment, the light’s unyielding blaze. 

The pulse of time, space, and life itself thrummed through his soul, weaving their rhythm into the very essence of his being.

Until, without warning, the vast illumination crumbled, and the world, in all its painful clarity, returned.

The light had vanished, leaving him adrift in the emptiness, only to be reclaimed by the stark hues of ordinary life. Colors surged around him—muted greys, whispers of teal, and pale pinks flooding his vision. It was almost more than he could bear. 

Amidst the radiance that pierced his very essence, he was lifted—suspended in a weightless embrace, held aloft by the luminous threads of the light that had so utterly captivated him.

But reality struck like a tempest, a sudden jolt searing through him. A sharp pang tore into his senses as he plummeted, his knee barely finding time to thrust forward, instinctively breaking his fall.

He collided with the cold metal floor, the impact swift and steadfast. His knee bore the brunt of the descent, while his staff—his once-revered hammer—absorbed the weight of his shifting reality, grounding him in the unforgiving present.

The weight of the world bore down upon him, relentless and unyielding, its merciless humility a torment that carved into his flesh, stripping meat from bone. It gnawed at the core of his being, unraveling even the grey matter of his mind, piece by excruciating piece.

He could not cry out, for to do so would be in vain—a hollow echo swallowed by the abyss, silenced before it could ever bloom into sound. 

He felt fragile, yet a fire smoldered deep within, winding through the quiet valleys of life that endured, unfazed. He held fast to a personal code, a mission etched in the essence of all that is veiled and sacred, shaped by the silent will of esoteric truths, runes, and the like.

There were no gods, no masters to answer to. Only his own will, and his own duties to uphold. 

He couldn’t afford to fail.

He wouldn’t fail. 

Not when the weight of existence itself teetered on the fragile edge between destiny and the mark he left upon it, shaping the very course of life’s unfolding.

A mission of great magnitude. Yet a plague lingered within him.

A plague of thought—relentless and gnawing. Thoughts that haunted him throughout the endless stretches of time, as he wandered the desolate wastelands of mankind’s “evolution”. They had once been his salvation, a lifeline entwined with his thirst for reckoning, feeding his drive with a dark, bloodied purpose. Yet a purpose of passion—all the same.

A passion that had once burned with fierce strength. The strength he had once known now seemed but a feeble echo, a mere shadow of the deeper meaning he had since uncovered in every word, every breath, every fleeting moment.

Images of the past, which, candidly, were the present once more, often danced in his mind, tangled in the waves of anguish that blurred the boundaries of time—and the futility of man’s existence.

Images of a certain face.

The face of a woman he had once known. Once loved. Once yearned for.

A woman who may very well have faded from existence in the time he had been lost, cast adrift in realms where he had borne the hammer of atonement for his actions in this present-day "past life."

Gods, how long had he been gone? 

He had atoned for his sins enough, pleading to return to the very moment he had been torn from—plucked away from the threads of life as though he were no more than a fruiting blossom on a tree, ripe for harvest.

If he had learned anything in his time cast away, it was that mages were as unpredictable as they were dangerous—venomous, cruel, and unafraid. All-knowing, they played with the fabric of time and space, indifferent to the chaos they wrought. 

He was certain he had been atomized, deconstructed, and reconstructed within the timeline he once called his own. But how far into the present, past, or future he had been thrust into remained the looming unknown.

His mission—-to reap the soul of a man he once knew. 

A man that had unlocked a potential known only to him—an unlimited power that defied understanding. The two of them may very well have transcended the boundaries of time, simultaneously outliving all those they had once known, leaving only echoes of ghosts behind.

That was a question that could not remain unanswered: who—-or what—-remained of the life he once knew? What remained in the space between all that was known, and what was yet to be discovered?

Despite the vengeful conquest  that fueled every pulse of his lifeblood, he carried a personal objective—one that took precedence above all else, overshadowing every other need and duty.

He must find her. 

With a body and soul that ached, cried, and surged with pain at the slightest movement, Jayce clutched his faithful hammer, the staff his only anchor in this fractured moment. He grasped it with a ferocity born of desperation, driven by an insatiable need to find the one who held his heart.

He dragged himself from the earth, his bones threatening to crumble beneath the weight of every strained muscle. In the depths of his agony, he found the strength to cry out—anguish, pain, and longing intertwining in a sound that tore through the stillness.

There was no time to waste. Time was as fleeting as the many fragile faces of morality he had been shown. He pressed on, choosing to ignore the pain that gnawed at his body, for the agony in his heart burned far fiercer, driving him forward with a greater urgency.

As he forced one foot in front of the other, a faint clarity began to seep through the fog of his pain. He recognized this place—what felt like a lifetime ago, perhaps it truly was.

It was the very place he had been banished from on that fateful day, the boundaries of reality itself stripped away, peeling from his existence like old paint from a forgotten wall.

The base of the Hexgate. Miles upon miles beneath the surface, deep within the heart of the underground. So close to The Fissures that the scent of The Grey seeped through, oozing like sludge, despite the sanctity of the Hextech walls.

Yes, he knew exactly where he was—and where he had to go. Where he needed to go.

After what seemed like hours of agony, though only mere minutes in the grand scope of reality, he emerged.

The raw sunlight of the outside world felt foreign, a pale imitation of the light he’d known within the anomaly that had consumed him. It didn’t faze him in the slightest. Yet, he clung to the shadows, weighed down by the urgency of his mission, unwilling to risk crossing paths with anyone but the council he sought.

He tried to summon her face in his mind, though it danced just beyond his reach, a fading wisp of memory. The delicate details slipped like grains of sand through his fingers, leaving behind only fragments, delicate shards of a once-vivid whole. Longing was a poor name for the ache that ate away at his very being. 

It wasn’t just the endless minutes, hours, or even years spent alone, adrift in the quiet expanse of time. It was the storm within his mind, the weight of the universe’s secrets pressing upon him, unraveling his memories until her face—so familiar, so beloved—was little more than a whisper, lost to the void.

How could he ever forget her face? 

His grip on the hammer tightened, the weight of it suspended in the air, but he refused to rely on it. His impatience burned, driving him forward without its support.

This was his final reckoning. To bear the strain of his body, the pain of his journey, as penance for allowing his mind to forsake the thought of her.

He trudged through the shadows, a silent specter unnoticed by the lurking eyes around him, his resolve unwavering as he pressed forward, determined to reach the only place where he could search for her presence.

Every so often, ripples of time—glitches in the fabric of his mind—tore through him, sending his thoughts into chaos. They were like jolts of electricity, moments when his current self clashed with the future he had lived, battling with the past in a present that no longer belonged to him. It was no wonder such disruptions occurred, for he was living a time that had already become the past, thrown back into the present, where time itself seemed to be an elusive spectacle.

Deeming the horrors he endured—atrocious—barely scratched the surface of what he had encountered in his time away. Physically, he had survived—scraping by in the darkness of caverns, feeding on small creatures that crossed his path, and lighting fires from their bones to keep the cold at bay. It was a hell no mortal could comprehend. Physically surviving, yet endlessly lost in the mental labyrinth of unanswered questions, shattered dreams, and sudden epiphanies. 

Tampering with the very energy that shaped rock from stardust, and blood from matter—the vital core of life itself. He was beyond foolish to have once believed he could wield such power in the name of humankind’s technological progress. How naïve he had been, to think that a mere mortal could control forces unknown to their kind, and expect no consequence.

This was his consequence. To have forgotten the blissfully ignorant construct of time. To have forgotten what joyfulness truly was. To have forgotten love in its entirety—who to love, how to love, and who had once loved him.

To know nothing but pain. Nothing but sorrow. Nothing but the lingering ache of ignorance lost, the fleeting happiness once found in the mere desire to uncover the answers he now possessed. He sought answers, and answers were what he got. But within those answers lay a terror unlike any other—a terror born of witnessing what could have been, what did happen, and what will inevitably unfold from his actions. 

Jayce felt the weight of this burden crashing down around him, tightening around his throat like an enraged serpent. Breathing itself had become as foreign as the sunlight. He choked out, unable to cry out in pain as another ripple in the fabric of time surged through him, seemingly splitting his head in two. He screamed, yet no sound escaped him once more.

He had no time for this. No time for anything. Time was both nonexistent and forever slipping away—a paradox in its purest form.

He pressed on, driven by an iron will to reach his destination before his earthly body could endure another ounce of pain or suffering. Minutes passed, though they felt more like hours—an eternity in the spaces between each breath.

He could feel the coiled serpent around his neck loosening as the sight of a still, all-too-familiar building came into view. Jayce was breathing heavily now—panting, gasping, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of exhaustion, a feeling he had come to know too well.

Jayce gripped his trusted hammer tightly, positioning the handle and aiming it at the solid door ahead. With a swift pull of the long metal release bar, the hum of his hextech beam sliced through the air, the door offering no resistance as it imploded. 

Jayce pushed through without hesitation or abandon, stumbling through the opening he had created, breathing hard all the while. His gaze settled on the familiar surroundings. He remembered this place. Her home. His home. Their home.

He hurled his hammer aside, the hefty weapon crashing into a nearby coffee table. The sharp crack of the wood splintering beneath the weight of the metal rang through the space, a loud echo sure to stir anyone in the house—if the blast of the door hadn’t already.

Jayce didn’t pause. He doubled down, picking up speed as he raced through the lower level of the house, frantic, desperate to find her. Room to room he searched, the pain in his leg screaming in protest, but he didn’t stop.

Yet, she was nowhere to be found. Jayce cursed loudly, slamming his fist into a nearby wall, the house shaking under the force of his strike.

She wasn’t here. Where else could she be?

His anger grew as he moved, a hurricane of frustration until he reached the base of the staircase. Once more, his fist collided with the wall, a primal curse escaping his lips—anger, guilt, and confusion tumbling out in the heat of the moment.

"FUCK!" he shouted, pounding his fist repeatedly into the wall, leaving a substantial dent in its wake.

His rage was all-consuming, blinding, and relentless as he acknowledged the thick layers of dust that caked the railing of the staircase before him. 

Has he really been gone that long?

He could feel the weight of his grief, the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to fall, tracing the sharp curve of his cheekbones.

Yet another grim reality came crashing down upon him—the unbearable truth that he had, indeed, outlived the one radiant beacon of his desires, the singular flame that had given his life meaning. The knife of guilt plunged itself deeper into his chest as he realized he could no longer even summon her name, lost amid the swarm of revelations and horrors that had become his affliction.

But then, a faint sound—something delicate, breathy, and quiet—caught his attention.

Jayce had been the loudest force in the house, but his ears were tuned to the silence that followed him, alert to anything out of place.

A gasp. A small one. Almost imperceptible. 

His head snapped up, his gaze sharp, seeking the source of the sound. His eyes scanned each step, weaving between the banisters of the staircase until they found the outline of a face—half of it, barely visible from behind the uppermost curve of the staircase. The spaces between the columns made it difficult to catch a clear view, but he could see just enough.

Jayce stood rooted to the spot, the air thick with disbelief. He couldn’t trust his eyes—not after all he’d endured, not after the nightmares that had taunted him for so long. But there she was, standing at the top of the staircase. Her outline blurred and shimmering, as if she were a mirage conjured from his aching, fragmented mind.

She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her fingers gripped the banister, knuckles white, as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this moment. Her eyes locked on his, wide and unblinking, and the emotion within them struck him like a blow. Shock. Pain. Recognition. A mirror of his own soul laid bare.

Slowly, cautiously, she began to descend, each step hesitant as though the floor beneath her might give way.

Jayce couldn’t breathe. The sight of her stole whatever remnants of air remained in his lungs. He wanted to call out to her, to say her name, but the word escaped him, lost somewhere deep in the fractures of his memory. His hands trembled at his sides, and his knees threatened to buckle.

When she reached the bottom, she paused, so close he could feel the faint warmth of her presence. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, her hand rose, trembling, hovering near his face. Her fingers grazed the roughness of his beard—unfamiliar, foreign to the Jayce she had once known. Her gaze searched his, desperate for something familiar beneath the layers of torment etched into his features. Her touch was a question, a plea, a prayer.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling far worse than her hand.

Her words, her cadence, the very sound of the way she construed her syllables together stirred something deep within him. 

It started faint, a flicker in the void of his memory. A flash of light in the darkness, a melody half-remembered. Her laughter, her smile, her voice—it came rushing back, filling the empty, aching spaces in his mind. He remembered the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, the warmth of her hand in his, the softness of her lips when they whispered promises meant to last forever. He remembered late nights in their home, her humming a tune he could never place, and the way she fit perfectly against his side, as though they had been made for each other.

And then her name emerged, clear and resounding, breaking through the haze like sunlight piercing storm clouds. It struck him with staggering force, his breath hitching in his chest.

“____...” he whispered, her name trembling on his lips. It felt strange and familiar all at once, like a language he had known in another life. The syllables tasted of longing, regret, and an aching love that had never truly left him. Her name wasn’t just a word; it was an invocation, a tether to everything he had been and everything he had lost.

She gasped, her hand freezing on his face as the sound of her name from his lips shattered something inside her. Her tears fell faster, her face crumbling under the weight of his voice, the voice she had feared she might never hear again.

“It’s me,” she choked out, her voice breaking, thick with disbelief and raw emotion. “It’s me, baby. It’s me.”

Jayce said nothing more. He couldn’t. The dam within him had broken, and there was no holding back the flood of emotions that consumed him. He reached for her, his hands trembling as they gripped her shoulders, desperate to anchor himself to her presence. The sound of her name reverberated in his mind, in his heart, and in his very soul. 

Like clockwork, instinct overcame him, and he pulled her into his arms. His hand slid up, fingers weaving into the familiar softness of her hair, cradling the back of her head as though afraid she might disappear if he let go. The other wrapped firmly around her waist, his trembling grip binding her to him, locking her in place against his chest as if he could shield her from every cruel force in the universe.

They stood there, unmoving, a living sculpture of sorrow and relief intertwined. Their shared sobs filled the air, broken and uneven, their abdomens convulsing in an imperfect rhythm, a pattern dictated by the sheer weight of their emotions.

Her arms shot up, wrapping tightly around his neck, clinging to him with a fierceness that rivaled the serpent from earlier. But this was no constriction of malice—this was desperation, a refusal to let go, an embrace steeped in the agony of their time apart and the fragile hope of this reunion.

She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, her tears soaking into the rough fabric of his battered coat. Jayce pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the faint trace of a scent he thought he’d never experience again. It was real—she was real. And so was he. Together, they formed an unyielding testament to survival, to love found again in the wreckage of time and pain.

The world around them faded into silence, the echoes of shattered furniture and crumbling walls irrelevant. There was nothing else—just the two of them, locked in a moment that transcended everything else. 

In that embrace, time ceased to exist. There was no past, no future, only the moment—the aching, beautiful reunion of two souls who had endured the unendurable, and somehow found their way back to each other.

For the first time in what didn’t merely feel like an eternity—but what, for him, truly was an eternity—Jayce allowed himself to breathe. The unrelenting grip of despair that had clung to him for so long loosened its hold, and he surrendered to the fragile, radiant possibility of solace.

He melted into her touch, the warmth of her embrace dissolving the armor of anguish he had worn for so long. The waves of hope, love, and longing coursed through him like a rising tide, washing over his battered soul, cleansing him of every hardship and sin that had clung to him. 

Each tear that fell from his eyes felt like a release, a quiet surrender to the overwhelming truth that she was here, alive, and within his grasp. For the first time in a recent lifetime of torment, Jayce felt the faint glimmer of what it meant to be whole again. In her arms, he rediscovered the segments of himself he thought had been lost forever. He pulled his face from the crook of her neck, craning up ever so slightly to meet her gaze from the step above him.

In the raw, aching silence of the eye contact, he kissed her.

It was not a kiss of restraint, not the gentle touch of lovers reunited after a brief absence. No, this was a kiss of desperate need, of a hunger so deep it could never be satisfied with mere words. His lips crashed against hers with an intensity borne of years of pain, the searing heat of their touch shattering any trace of distance that had ever existed between them. The world spun around them, time itself seemed to hesitate, unsure if it dared to move forward while these two souls collided, intertwining in a dance they had been separated from for far too long.

His hands cradled her face, as if he could memorize every curve, every contour of her like the final piece of a shattered puzzle. His thumb traced the delicate line of her jaw, brushing away tears that mingled with his own, but the salt of them only added to the kiss. Her hands clung to his shoulders, pulling him in, urging him closer, as if she, too, feared he might disappear into the ether if she didn't hold him tight enough.

Her lips were as soft as he remembered, and yet, they were so much more now. They spoke a language only the broken could understand—tender, yearning, seeking. His own lips moved over hers with an urgency that spoke of things unspoken, of years lost and never returned, of the agony of not knowing if the person before him had ever truly existed outside of memory. But here she was, warm in his arms, and the kiss deepened, no longer a question but an answer—a promise, a return to everything they had lost, and everything they could still become.

His hands roamed over her back, as if trying to remember every inch of her, as if the very touch of her skin reminded him more of everything he had witnessed than the sheer fact that it was something he had only just been through. It reminded him of everything he had suffered—just to be here, in this moment. He kissed her with the weight of all that and more, as if their love had never left him, even in the darkest hours. He kissed her like she was the last obstacle in the way of sanity in a world that had spun too far out of control. And when they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, the air between them was thick with the unspoken realization that the past—no matter how broken—was never truly lost.

And for the first time in forever, Jayce allowed himself to believe in miracles.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice raw and shaky against her lips, his fingers tightening in her hair, though never enough to hurt.

“I thought you’d never come back,” she replied, her voice trembling with an aching yearning. She pulled her arms from around his neck, her hands grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him even closer, as if their bodies could merge into one.

Jayce huffed against her lips, their breaths tangled together, hearts racing. Their lips met again, moving together with an urgency, a desperate rhythm of grinding, sliding—like they were both trying to consume the other, as if time itself could be stolen through every kiss.

There were no more words to be spoken, no explanations needed at this time. Everything that needed to be said would happen outside of this moment, beyond the confines of the here and now. In this space, within the familiar walls of their home, the only thing left to do was to cherish, savor, and surrender to the love that had been lost and now found.

They moved as if guided by an unspoken understanding, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his hands rose to cradle the curve of her body. His fingers traced the soft, bare skin of her thighs, caressing gently before gripping her firmly, as if to reassure himself she was truly there.

With a quiet, unrelenting need, he pressed her back into the wall—the same one he had pummeled with his fist mere moments ago. The contrast of his previous rage and the tender, consuming embrace was stark, as the heat between them grew, their bodies aligning in need.

Neither of them had the patience for anything more than the raw, burning need to be together again. Clothes were discarded in hurried motions, a belt undone with an urgency that mirrored the storm raging between them.

As if their bodies had always been the missing pieces of a puzzle, they came together without thought, fitting perfectly in a way only years of passion and love could understand. It was a reunion, not just of flesh, but of something deeper—an unspoken connection that had always waited beneath the surface, now finally able to breach it. 

Jayce groaned out, sinking his cock down to the hilt inside her. His belt hung loosely, the buckle clinking faintly, like a soft chime in the quiet chaos of their reunion. His hips shifted with a subtle sway, his body still aching, but driven by the shared overwhelming need. 

One hand braced against the wall, fingers tracing the jagged divot he had created earlier, finding an oddly fitting purchase there. The other hand cupped the side of her face, pulling her closer, his lips leaving a trail of fiery kisses across her cheek, down the curve of her neck, and grazing the exposed sliver of skin on her collarbone just beneath the neckline of her shirt. Every touch was a silent gospel, a desperate reaffirmation that she was truly there.

He grunted, huffing out as his cock twitched amongst the walls of her cunt, her slick coating every shred of skin he buried between them. 

She cried out, the tears of her passion and devastation still streaming down her face as she moaned against his shoulder, hands still gripping for dear life at his shirt. 

Jayce couldn’t do anything but move—move against her, move within her, as if each shift and press was an unspoken promise. He needed her to feel the weight of everything that had passed between them, the years apart, the torment, the longing. His body spoke in the language of devotion, an unyielding motion that expressed what words could not. He wanted her to feel everything—the regret, the pain, the aching desire to make her understand that he had never meant to leave her. Every movement was a plea for redemption, an effort to show her that his absence had never been by choice, and that now, with her in his arms, he would never leave again.

Not until every moment with her had been relived in full, paid in full—a debt he had accumulated, whether or not it had ever been his intention. 

Furthermore, not until the day he was laid to rest. 

With the very weight of his intended unspoken purpose, he did as he needed. He began moving against her, driving his cock further into her before pulling his hips back with great resistance. Oh, how he had dreamed of staying there, deep within her, until their bodies became one. A dream he could fulfill one day, but not this day. No.

He had to do what he must. The new mission that called to him. Repentance for his guilt.

He bore down, removing the hand from her face, exchanging a greeting with her hip as he used both it and the anchor on the wall to aid the snapping of his hips into hers. Her legs coiled ever stronger around his waist as he moved, hazy spots clouding her vision as he drove the head of his cock deep into a spot she knew he remembered just where to find. 

He continued, the duet of their sounds merging into a symphony that reverberated through the hollow structure of the house.

He knew he couldn’t stop, couldn't dare break his stride, but the weight of his earthly injury proved too great a challenge. His knee, the very one that had borne the brunt of the fall into the caverns that had held him captive for so long, began to give way.

A hiss escaped him as his knee buckled, sending him crashing into the wall, taking her down with him. He fumbled in frustration, angry that this obstacle had to arise now. She cupped his face gently, pulling him out of the haze of passion for a moment. Her eyes were full of forgiveness, understanding, and love.

With a soft kiss—chaste yet filled with tenderness—she slowly pushed him away. Breathless, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his, she guided him gently toward the staircase. She eased him down to the step she had just occupied, his rear meeting the step with an awkward thud as he struggled to use his knee. She almost laughed at the flustered look on his face.

There he sat, cock out, needy as ever, glistening with the physical proof of her desires, gazing up at her like a man who had been lost in a storm for years—and in her presence, found the calm, the shelter, the promise of everything he had ever longed for.

She was never able, in all the years spent with him, to deny the way he looked at her—with nothing more than pure adoration, as if his gaze alone could encompass the depth of every sweltering emotion he had ever felt, each one overflowing like a tide too vast to hold back. 

It sent lightning bolting through her veins as she lifted the hem of her dress by the waistline, clearing it from her shins as she moved them on either side of his thighs. In a quick movement, she descended into his lap, sinking back down onto his cock like a glass slipper to a foot–the kind you read about in fairytales. 

Jayce’s eyes refused to close, despite the overwhelming pleasure that urged them to surrender. He couldn’t bear to look away—not when he had once forgotten her face, a face he could never fathom losing from his memory again. He would spend an eternity gazing at it, tracing every curve, every expression, if it meant he’d never risk forgetting again.

She cooed softly, a hum deep in her chest as she stilled atop him. Without warning, she braced herself with her hands on his shoulders and began to move. Her knees ground harshly against the wooden step beneath them, the sting sharp but dismissed as something fleeting, unworthy of attention in this sacred moment.

Jayce’s hands found their way to her hips, guiding and assisting her as she moved, his good knee pressing up into her, adding to the rhythm as she rolled her hips down into his lap.

He stared up at her, almost in awe, desperate to say something—anything—that might amplify the intensity of the moment. She could see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes, and with a gentle shake of her head, she silenced him, her gesture a tender "not now."

Jayce nodded, his mouth sealing shut once more as he pulled her down, their lips reconnecting in a fierce kiss. Their tongues danced together, reacquainting themselves, as the tension they both craved began to stir deep within them, rising like a wave that would soon crash.

She could tell by the way his breath quickened, and the way he gripped at her hips—attempting to pull her harder and faster against him, that he was close. 

She could feel her own impending orgasm approaching faster than she cared to admit. After several more seconds, she came undone, the walls of her cunt spasming and twitching against his cock as they tightened around him. 

Jayce groaned out with the unholiest of moans as he could no longer stifle his own orgasm. He came hard, slamming her hips into his lap one final time as the streams and strokes of his cum lathered her internal walls. 

And just like that, as if the very fabric of time were being stitched back together, the rift felt whole again. The weight of everything that had been forced upon him, every choice he had made, and the heavy burden of his mission’s fate, all dissipated into nothingness. In that fleeting moment, the past and future aligned, and the crushing pressure of it all faded into serenity. 

The two people, united by more than sweat and tears, felt a deep harmony between them, as if everything in the world had realigned. In that moment, it was as though the universe itself had whispered that all was right. Together, they could face the trials of the new day, conquer every obstacle that came their way, and overcome every hardship as one. 

With the shifting weight of time that had passed, and the uncertain future that lay ahead—yet one that felt equally decided—there remained an essence of calm, unburdened by fear. In that moment, both past and future were held in a quiet certainty, as if all things had already been set in motion, and nothing could sway them from their course.

There was no challenge too great, no burden too heavy, for they were stronger together than they could ever be apart.

[brunchable]

Secret Santa | S. R.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x F!Reader Themes: Ex-lovers. Petty Revenge but Steve is just sweet ;_; Summary: You and Steve are forced to participate in your friend group Secret Santa gift exchange, and of course, you end up assigned to each other. You're determined to give him the worst gift possible, but his surprisingly thoughtful present throws you off—and leaves you questioning your assumptions about him. A/N: This oneshot is a part of my 4K follower Christmas Celebration. Also this one will be connected to Santa Baby that will be released next week. dividers by @saradika-graphics

It wasn’t your idea to do Secret Santa. You’d never suggest something so contrived, so obviously destined for disaster. No, this brilliant plan came courtesy of Nat, whose mischievous smirk while handing out the hat of names told you she knew exactly what she was doing.

The moment you unfolded the slip of paper and saw his name, you felt the universe mocking you. Steve Rogers. Captain Perfect. Your ex.

You stared at the paper as though sheer willpower might summon a new name. It didn’t. Across the room, Steve raised his eyebrows as he read his own slip, the corner of his mouth twitching. You had a sinking suspicion the universe had played a cruel joke on him, too.

“What are the odds?” Nat said, sidling up next to you with a glass of wine.

“Oh, I don’t know. Rigged?” you hissed back, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Steve Rogers had a habit of ruining things. Like relationships. Or, in this case, your plans to breeze through the gift exchange with a generic mug or a gift card. No, this was war. You were going to find the most obnoxious, useless gift imaginable. The kind of thing that screamed, I know exactly what you hate, and I’m leaning into it.

You weren’t just shopping for a gift. You were shopping for revenge.

The mall was an absolute hellscape of holiday cheer—children screaming, Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You blasting on loop, and couples holding hands like it wasn’t a battlefield. You were on a mission, weaving through the chaos, hunting for something so heinous that it would make Steve Rogers cringe.

The first store you entered was a pop-culture knick-knack shop. It was overflowing with mugs that said, “Live, Laugh, Love,” and socks decorated with pizza slices. You rolled your eyes. Too tame. Too basic. No, you needed something with bite. Something so wrong that Steve would open it and instantly regret ever existing.

That’s when you saw it. A coffee mug. But not just any coffee mug.

It was massive, comically oversized, the kind of mug that could double as a soup bowl. Bright red, with bold, white text plastered across the front:

“WORLD’S OKAYEST LOVER.”

You snorted so loudly a nearby teenager gave you a dirty look. But it wasn’t enough. Oh no. You needed more.

Two hours later, you stumbled into the most chaotic store in the mall: an unhinged combination of novelty items, offensive gag gifts, and borderline illegal paraphernalia. The walls were lined with things like glow-in-the-dark shot glasses shaped like butts and calendars full of “inspirational” quotes… all of which were expletives. And there, under a flashing neon sign that screamed, BEST GIFT IDEAS EVER, you found it.

The pièce de résistance.

A calendar. Not just any calendar, though. It was titled:

“12 Months of Aggressive Affirmations.”

The cover featured a cartoon bunny flipping the bird. Each month was worse than the last—January read: “GET UP AND FUCKING WIN,” February shouted, “STOP BEING A SAD LITTLE BITCH,” and March simply screamed, “YOU’RE NOT THE PROBLEM, EVERYONE ELSE IS JUST DUMB AS SHIT.”

You couldn’t breathe. You were doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the calendar. It was perfect. Aggressive. Vulgar. Completely unnecessary. And most importantly? It would absolutely short-circuit Steve Rogers’ clean-cut, wholesome brain.

You slapped it down on the counter, ignoring the cashier’s judgmental look as they scanned it.

“You okay?” they asked, clearly unnerved by the manic grin plastered across your face.

“Oh, I’m great,” you said, pulling out your card. “This is going to make someone very uncomfortable.”

————

On the day of the exchange, you could hardly contain your excitement. The calendar was wrapped in gaudy, glittery paper that shed sparkles everywhere—another little insult aimed directly at Steve. When he finally picked it up, his brow furrowed at the excessive tape you’d used to ensure he’d struggle opening it.

Everyone watched as he peeled away the layers, muttering something about how you always made things difficult. But when the calendar came into view, his face went completely blank.

“‘Aggressive Affirmations,’” he read aloud, flipping to January. “‘GET UP AND FUCKING WIN.’” His lips twitched, but he refused to give you the satisfaction of a laugh. Instead, he held it up, deadpan. “Wow. You really went for it.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, smirking.

Nat practically fell off the couch laughing. “This is… incredible.”

“Yeah, this’ll look great in his bedroom,” Bucky added, snatching it to flip through the months. “Oh, man, look at June. ‘YOU’RE HOTTER THAN A FUCKING FOREST FIRE.’ Steve, this is the kind of energy you need.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate all of you.”

But when you caught his eye, you saw it—a flicker of amusement, quickly smothered by exasperation.

“This is going in my gym. Where no one else can see it.” He put the calendar down carefully, shaking his head. 

“Oh no,” you said, grinning wickedly. “It’s going on your fridge. Front and center. So every morning, you can start your day with a dose of aggressive self-love.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know whether to be mad or impressed.”

“Oh, be impressed,” you said, raising your glass. “It’s the best gift you’ll ever get.”

And when he smiled—small, reluctant, but genuine.

Steve wasn’t good at gifts. Not because he didn’t try, but because he overthought everything. For him, giving a gift wasn’t just about handing someone an object; it was a gesture, a piece of himself. And when it came to you—well, he hadn’t earned the right to give you anything, had he?

The relationship ended because of him. That much was clear. He’d been the one who pulled away, too overwhelmed by his own insecurities and the shadow of the life he thought he couldn’t offer you. And yet, here he was, standing in front of a boutique window, staring at the dress he knew you’d wanted for months.

He remembered the first time he saw you touch it. You weren’t even shopping for yourself. You’d dragged him into the boutique while looking for a birthday gift for Natasha, weaving through the racks with easy confidence. But then, you stopped.

Just for a moment.

The dress was simple—red silk, with delicate straps and a neckline that dipped just enough to make you bite your lip in that nervous way he loved. Your fingers brushed over the fabric, and you sighed, soft and wistful.

“Beautiful,” you’d murmured, almost to yourself.

Steve had stood a few steps behind, pretending to check his phone. He remembered how quickly you moved on, like you didn’t want to linger too long. You probably thought he hadn’t noticed. But he did. He always noticed.

Now, months later, Steve stood in the same boutique, heart pounding like he was about to charge into battle. The sales associate greeted him with a warm smile, clearly trying not to gawk at the former Captain America standing awkwardly among racks of designer dresses.

“I’m looking for a gift,” he said, clearing his throat.

“For someone special?”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “Yeah. She’s, uh... she’s special.”

The associate nodded knowingly and led him straight to the dress. “This one’s a favorite. Classic, elegant.”

Steve reached out, fingers grazing the fabric just as yours had. It felt like silk against his calloused palms—soft, delicate, everything he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

“She looked at this one,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “A while ago. I don’t think she thought I noticed.”

The associate smiled gently. “Well, you noticed. That’s what matters.”

He bought it without hesitation, ignoring the price tag. The dress came in a sleek black box tied with a ribbon, and Steve carried it home like it was the most precious thing in the world.

————

That night, Steve sat at his kitchen table with the box in front of him, a pen poised over a blank card. Words had never been his strong suit, but he needed you to know this wasn’t just a gift—it was an apology, a hope, a quiet confession.

After a long moment, he began to write:

Y/N,

I’m not great at words, but you always told me it’s the thought that counts. I saw you look at this dress once, and I don’t know if you even remember, but I do. You should have something beautiful because you deserve everything beautiful in the world. I know I’m the last person who should be saying that. But maybe this can say what I haven’t been able to.

—Steve

He stared at the card for a long time before tucking it into the box.

On the day of the gift exchange, Steve handed you the box without a word. Your name was scrawled on the tag in his careful handwriting. You hesitated, eyeing him warily, but curiosity got the better of you.

As you untied the ribbon and opened the lid, your breath caught.

The dress.

The room felt smaller somehow, the chatter of your friends fading into the background. You didn’t know what to say, and Steve didn’t push. He just stood there, watching you with that quiet, earnest expression that used to make your heart ache.

Your fingers brushed over the fabric, just as they had that day in the boutique. For a moment, you couldn’t speak.

“You remembered?” you finally whispered, looking up at him.

Steve shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I always remember.”

You froze at his words, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. It wasn’t just the dress—it was everything. All the times he’d been paying attention when you thought he wasn’t. All the moments you’d convinced yourself he didn’t care.

Your throat tightened as guilt began to creep in, sharp and relentless.

“I—” You stopped, fingers curling into the fabric. The silk felt too soft, too expensive, too meaningful in your hands. “Steve, I don’t... I don’t deserve this.”

His brow furrowed, and he took a small step closer. “Why would you say that?”

You laughed weakly, a bitter sound. 

“Because I’ve spent weeks trying to think of the worst gift to give you. Something obnoxious. Something petty. And you...” You gestured at the dress, your voice breaking slightly. “You did this.”

His gaze softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that. I get it. You’re angry at me. You have every right to be.”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing. “But I shouldn’t still be mad. It’s been months. You tried, Steve. You really tried, and I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted gently.

But that only made it worse. Because you did—not for being angry, but for the way you’d handled it. For not seeing how hard he was trying now.

“I just—” You exhaled shakily, holding the dress tighter against you. “I thought you weren’t paying attention. That I didn’t matter to you like that. And now... this.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. 

“You mattered,” he said simply, the rawness in his tone cutting straight through you. “You always mattered. I just... didn’t know how to show it before.”

The room was suddenly too warm, too loud. You felt exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. His words clung to you like static, leaving no room to breathe.

You lowered your eyes, staring down at the dress in your hands. “This... it’s beautiful, Steve. It’s too much. I don’t deserve it after—”

“You do,” he interrupted, his voice firm this time. “You deserve something beautiful. Even if you hate me, Y/N.”

You glanced up sharply at that, seeing the way his eyes flickered with something like regret—or maybe hope.

“I'm sorry. I don’t—” You stopped yourself. Lying felt crueller than the truth. “I don’t hate you, Steve. I just... I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s a gift. No strings attached.”

And somehow, that made the guilt worse. Because he meant it. You could tell. And it left you wondering if maybe he’d always meant it, even when he didn’t know how to show it.

“Thank you,” you said softly, clutching the dress like a lifeline.

Steve nodded, his hands still buried in his pockets as he stepped back, giving you space. But his eyes lingered, and for the first time in months, you felt like you really saw him. Not the perfect soldier, not your ex—but the man who’d been paying attention all along.

Tags: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @strawberrybisou @alyana-luvs-u @rogersbarber @veronicapaula

@fynnwolff @bmyva1entine @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @awaywithtime

[nicksbestie]

Nightmares - M. Sturniolo

Summary : the one where your boyfriend struggles with sleeping, but one night you find out why.

Warnings : nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks. read at your own discretion.

Word Count : 1364

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : gotta love a little angsty fic every now and again! <3

Matt didn’t sleep much.

Well, he slept, but it wasn’t at the time that he should be sleeping, and it never seemed like he slept well. He always seemed to be tired, dragging, and there were permanent dark circles and bags under his eyes. He always insisted that he was fine, but he was never able to hide the truth from you, as you saw the consistent yawns when he thought you weren’t looking. You had also seen the clips that Nick had no other choice than to edit out of car videos where Matt had nodded off in the front seat. You both knew if those had gone onto the Internet, their fan base would have gone inside, and none of them wanted to deal with clearing up the rumors that would start flying, or seeing all the edits of a sleepy Matt to soft or sad audios, complete with a load of pity.

Matt hated being pitied. It was one of his least favorite things in the world. He wasn’t someone who genuinely believed that he was too tough to have feelings, or that he never needed help, but he hated when people felt bad for him just because they felt like they had to. Matt was strong, mentally. Growing up as a kid with a lot of anxiety had shaped him that way, but he wasn’t someone who thought that they were impenetrable. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean that he easily asked for help. He did try to hide it for as long as he could, because normally a side of pity came along with the help that he needed to receive. So, whenever you pointed out that he was yawning, or that he had slept incredibly late into the afternoon, he brushed it off by saying that they were out late filming the night before. 

He used this excuse even when Nick confirmed that they had been home the previous night, the video for that day having been pre-filmed last week. You never called him out on the lies, wanting him to trust you, and come to you with whatever was wrong when he was ready. Your relationship was new, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured by you or uncomfortable with you in any way. You were always there for him whenever he needed anything, and he knew that better than anyone, so you firmly believed that when he was ready, he would come to you. You were taking baby steps in your relationship, both of you learning about the other person every day, having a few wobbles but always getting back up, the strong attraction between the two of you being enough to make you keep working towards a happy, stable, and long term thing. 

You couldn’t deny that you were in the honeymoon phase right now, and while you were enjoying the happiness of being with someone who cared for you so deeply already, you were worried about him. The bags under his eyes were only getting worse, he was only sleeping later and later into the afternoon, and oftentimes, he was still awake and texted you back immediately when you texted him your usual good morning text. You were beginning to grow extremely concerned, feeling like this was more than just his bad YouTube filming schedule causing the lack of sleep. You talked to Nick and Chris first, making sure that you weren’t going crazy and imagining it all, and they confirmed your concerns, telling you that Matt had refused all of their help as well. They were worried, but at this point, there wasn’t much more that they could do without him opening up to someone. 

Nothing happened until your first night staying over with Matt. You hadn’t spent the night with him yet, your schedules were not lining up, and you had declined one night because you were so nervous about it. You didn’t want any expectations to be there, because you weren’t ready for some things that could be implied from the first night together, but you felt like you were comfortable around Matt, and your nerves eased. It wasn’t planned, you had just been curled up with him after coming over for dinner, and when you had yawned against his shoulder, Matt had simply suggested that you stay there for the night. When you brought up the fact that you didn’t have clothes, he offered his own, and since you were tired and didn’t want to drive back home, you agreed.

It hadn’t taken you long to curl up against Matt, his warm presence, comforting touches, combined with being wrapped up in silky soft sheets, and being in your boyfriend’s clothes, ones that smelled like his cologne and laundry detergent, caused you to fall asleep in his arms within only a couple of hours. As usual, Matt was still awake when you fell asleep, since he normally didn’t rest for many more hours, often waiting until the sun was rising and peeking through his window blinds. But this time, Matt fell asleep a lot earlier than he intended to. He felt comfortable next to you, being in your presence calmed him down, and it was only another hour or two before he fell asleep. He caught the time before he fell asleep, just past midnight, and that was the last thing he processed as his eyes slipped shut. Unfortunately, they didn’t stay closed for long. 

You woke up, eyes slowly blinking open as you tried to process the scene in front of you. You heard muffled cries next to you, and panic immediately coursed through your veins. Your eyes raked over Matt’s body, facing away from you, his shoulders shaking. You gently laid a hand on his shoulder, and he jolted away from your touch, his head turning and eyes snapping to see you. When you made eye contact with him, you noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, and they were full of fear. His forehead was coated in sweat, and you had no idea what was going on. You pulled him into a hug, noticing the way he clung to you, before speaking.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” 

He just shook his head against you, the slow rolling of tears beginning to stop as he was wrapped up in your presence. 

“Nightmare.” 

You frowned, kissing the top of his head as you kept him close to your body. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’ll be okay, it was just a dream. Everything is okay now, I’ve got you.” 

Matt furiously shook his head, denying your statement.

“It isn’t okay. I can’t go back to sleep. It’ll happen again.” 

Laying there in the dark, holding your boyfriend in your arms, you connected the dots. His poor sleep schedule, how he always seemed tired, how he never slept without being able to see a peek of the sun. This was a recurring issue.

“This happens every night, doesn’t it?” 

You could feel the nod against your chest, and your heart broke for him. 

“Oh, love. It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m not leaving, I’ll stay up with you, or I’ll hold you so you can sleep. If it helps, I’ll stay over more often.” 

He didn’t verbally respond, nor did you feel him move against you, but you knew he had heard you. You laid there, comforting him, rubbing his back, hoping to help lull him back to sleep, and after about another twenty minutes, you heard him yawn. You gently coaxed him to close his eyes, staying up for another hour after he dozed off again, and held him tightly. You fell asleep after about an hour and a half, feeling confident enough that he wouldn’t wake back up, or at least you hoped he wouldn’t.

You woke up about five hours later, around eight in the morning, to the sun creeping through Matt’s open window blinds. You noticed that Matt was still sleeping peacefully, so you slipped out of bed and closed the blinds, before getting back into bed with him. You were going to let him rest as long as possible, and you’d do anything to help keep his nightmares at bay.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0

@sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

@dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn @h3arts4harry @getosuckers @knhxa @scoobydoosnack

@tapesmatts @st7rnioioss @st7rnioiossblog @jamiesturniolo @sofie-1 @muwapsturniolo @graysturns @certifiednatelover

@bitchydragonparadise @haunted-headset-alt @skyslondon @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @alivzstuff

@satvisfavetoodles @zivall @elliesturniolo1 @elliewrites1

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[mammomlette]

OBEY ME OLDER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

part 1 part 2 part 3 (WIP rn)

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, GN! Reader/MC, possible cringe

Notes: This is literally my first ever fan fic I’ve published (if head cannons count as fan fics lmao) so apologies for any mistakes or weird formatting! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, I’m ASKING for it if you have any🙏

Alsoo they just kept getting longer and longer, I don’t know why and I’ve gone through lucifers to try and make it longer but I just can’t so sorry😭

LUCIFER: you can’t see their eye colour until you meet them.

* It wasn’t really that bad, being unable to see red.

* Being unable to see the colour of your blood as it oozed out of a cut wasn’t really that bad, even if it just looked like grey tar pouring out instead which is equally gross

* It wasn’t really that bad to just never be able to see a single colour, everyone had to put up with it at some point

* But it was sad how rose bouquets always looked dull, and how hearts would always be grey

* It was sad how you couldn’t just imagine up a new colour to fill the void that not being able to see red left

* You knew that the colour you couldn’t see was called red, and you could learn as much as you’d like about it but that didn’t meant you could imagine it let alone see it for yourself

* Not until you were teleported into a large, court-like room one day

* You looked up from whatever you were doing and stared up at the man who had begun to cheerfully talk in front of you. His hair was that familiar gray that you recognised as red

* He introduced you to your situation and the school, and in your panic your eyes darted across the room

* Then, you suddenly made eye contact with a man in a dark coat, hair a matching colour and eyes that were also a dark colour

* but a new dark colour

* Not that gray you had been familiar with your whole life, but a fierce mix of orange and pink, the way the colour red had been described to you your entire life

* You saw through your periphery some orniments on the wall and the previous man’s hair and jacket come to life with colour, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark haired man before you

* He had frozen, just like you, afraid to blink, afraid that he’d lose this enticing new colour again after missing it for so long if he were to let it go for less than a second

* When he finally looked away, he saw how different decorations in the room that had previously been gray lit up with the colour of your eyes, the world never seeming so alive in all the thousands of years of his life as they did in that moment

* For the first time in his incredibly long life, he saw the beauty that was your eyes and all the beauty they brought with them.

MAMMON: the red string of fate.

* Your entire life you had been accompanied by that obnoxious red string.

* Whenever you glanced down to your non-dominant hand, the first thing you noticed was the red string all tangled up and wrapped around your hand

* Sometimes you’d get bored and tie nots in it or rest it on a surface and pull it to make shapes, but as soon as you took your attention away from it it’d return to normal, pointing in the direction of your soulmate

* And for some reason, the direction would always be down

* Not always directly down, sometimes diagonal, but it always managed to go into the ground.

* Was your soulmate miner or something???

* You had tried and tried countless times to follow it, going into basements and even considering going cave exploring in case your soulmate was some kind of cave creature trapped down there

* There was even a time you considered that they could be in hell, because where else could they be that’s so low down?!

* You had grown to hate it, the way it would taunt you and while it showed your friends their soulmates, it just showed you the dirt on the ground

* Hopes of finding your soulmate and curiosity to where they could be grew into despair, concluding that your soulmate was either a mole person or dead

* Both results meant that you’d never meet them and would forever be tormented by that hideous, obnoxious, torturous red string that was eternally tied to your ring finger

* You were waiting in a lobby for a job interview when you suddenly popped into the devildom

* A man was happily introducing you to the courtroom(?) and all of the people sat inside of it

* There was a man named Lucifer, followed by his younger brothers, all of which noticeably sharing names with demons. This place was called the Devildom, they’re demons, is this hell?Someone must be pulling your leg or something, right?!?!

* You were cut of from your thoughts by the dark haired man- Lucifer- telling you to call his younger brother.

* You hesitantly took the phone-like device called a ‘DDD’ from Lucifer’s hands and dialed the number you were told to, fidgeting with the string on your ring finger that nobody else could see

* You waited for Lucifer’s younger brother, Mammon, to show up, still fiddling with the string, when you felt a sudden jolt on the string

* You looked down, to see the string moving slightly, left to right to slightly up, and noticed that it was no longer going into the ground. It was right at the doorway to the room.

* A man stormed into the room, immediately charging in your direction and shouting about your ‘nerve’ to summon ‘the great Mammon’

* Safe to say the shouting died down when he took a look at your hand and noticed how your strings were connected

* Awkward silence filled the air until it was interrupted by the Avatar of Lust, cooing at the situation when he put two and two together and realised what was going on

* You were too focused on the red string connecting you to his hand to noticed the red slowly covering mammons face

* Internally, you laughed. Of course you found your soulmate in Hell.

LEVIATHAN: you make choices for your soulmate.

* You woke up to the sun shining through your curtains. Your soulmate, for whatever reason, didn’t allow you to shut your blinds. He didn’t even decline it, just left it on read.

* Why did you even have to request to do something so mundane?!

* Your soulmate forgetting to respond to your requests was a common occurrence, usually in the morning, but any time could be victim to your soulmates negligence to your requests.

* You went downstairs and opened your fridge and grabbed the first thing you saw: a pancake filled with red bean paste, in a box labeled ‘Azuki-tan, cute companion!’

* You had zero clue what that meant, you just remembered seeing it for sale at a grocery store a couple days ago

* Again, you had to send a request to your soulmate over whether you could eat this or not.

* Almost immediately, it was accepted. You didn’t really stop to think about the fast reaction time to the request, just thankful this wasn’t another ignored request

* Just as you were about to put it into your mouth, you were teleported to a large room that resembled a court room and contained a lot of chairs and 6 scary-looking men

* You kind of zoned out for most of that discussion until you started asking questions, but safe to say the pancake was forgotten, still in your hand.

* You made your way to where you would be staying with the demon assigned to look after you, Mammon, when a request from your soulmate popped up:

* ‘Soulmate would like to: Ask his brother for his money back.’

* You accepted, wondering what harm could be done, and entered the building with Mammon.

* You were just chatting with the white haired boy when all of a sudden a boy with purple hair started yelling at him “How about this? I vote for YOU to die, Mammon!”

* They started to yell at each other about money, which you found to be an odd coincidence. Would this even be considered as asking for money though? It’s more like bullying.

* You watched the argument unfold and brought the pancake to your mouth, about to take a bite, when the purple haired boy froze and stared at you, which made you stand there awkwardly with your mouth about to bite into the pancake for a few seconds waiting for him to say something

* “Is that Azuki-tan?!”

* “Umm… I think that was on the packaging… why?”

* Very awkward. Oh look, a request!

* ‘Soulmate would like to geek-out about Azuki-Tan and The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl franchise.’ You accepted. How random.

* You had no time to ponder the randomness of the request because the purple haired boy, Levi as Mammon had introduced him, began to spout random nonsense about the pancake? No, a girl called ruri hana- wait no, now he’s going on about voice acting- who’s that voice actor?- wait what show is he going on about now?!?! You really wanted to tell this guy to slow down or shut up!

* He paused for a quick moment and pressed a button in the air, continuing with his tangent when you yelled at him to just slow down!

* He paused. He stared into your soul. He looked like he was rebooting, or something.

* “You’re my soulmate?” He said, voice shaky. You asked him what he meant, and he just started going on a rant about an anime where this very thing happened and- he’s off topic again, he’s going a mile a minute! You asked the voice in your head ‘can I please tell him to shut up?!’

* He stopped and stared at you, now yelling how you were asking him to shut up and how rude than was!

* Oh shit. He’s right? He’s your soulmate? And you just asked your soulmate to shut up the annoying guy in front of you?? Whew boy.

* You awkwardly mutter apologies to eachother, flustered, both the pancake and his older brother forgotten.

[liv2post]

Professors and Plants

Severus Snape x Herbology!Reader Wordcount: ~2.4k Summary: You're the new replacement for Professor Sprout and one day you require someone to plant-sit for you.

Read here or on ao3

Severus was struck the first time he saw you enter the Great Hall for breakfast at the start of the new term. You were Professor Sprout’s replacement as well as her cousin, but most people wouldn’t have thought the latter due to your appearance. Your dark robes resembled his and you donned a pair of boots with yellow thread sewn into the tops of the soles. What really stood out was your hair. It was snow white, transitioning into black at the bottom third of your hair length like a gradient. Your eyes met his and held his gaze for no more than a second as you took the last available seat that happened to be at the opposite end of the head table.

Despite your dark appearance, you were perfectly amicable and polite with the other teachers, even Lockhart, but you weren’t one to ever start conversations with any of them, preferring to keep more to yourself unless someone wished to converse with you. 

The first time he talked to you was that same day before classes would start tomorrow to get a proper read on you. 

“Hello, Professor Snape,” you greeted mildly, turning away from a Sopophorous Bean plant to face him as he barely clicked the door to the greenhouse behind him.

“How do you know my name?” His eyebrows furrowed and his soft baritone voice floated through the air.

“I know your first name, too. We went to school together, but you were older. I graduated just before you took over for Professor Slughorn.”

“I see…”

“Is there something you need from me?”

“Dittany leaves. Surely, Pomona left a plant or two in your care.”

“She most definitely did. Will a standard 16 oz jar’s worth do?”

“Yes.”

You smiled softly, retrieving a mason jar and a pair of snippers, and began trimming the fuzzy green leaves of one of the tall dittany plants that sat in the corner. “Did you and Pomona have any arrangements?” you called back to him.

“Arrangements?” Snape repeated, his eyes flicking over a decorative succulent whose pot was shaped like a mushroom before looking back at you. 

“Given our positions, I imagine you and I will be supplying each other with inventory and remedies or what have you. I was just wondering if you and Pomona had any arrangements that made each other's lives easier or more efficient work-wise. Do you like your ingredients bottled a certain way? Are there certain things you find yourself running out of more often than others?”

“We didn’t have any specific protocols established. Pomona was annoyingly protective of her plants,” he stated coolly. “But…now that you mention it, my store of wormwood tends to fluctuate. The younger years can be…unapologetically wasteful.”

“Noted. I will try to remain well-stocked on wormwood. And by the way,” you screwed on the jar lid, the glass filled to the brim with leaves—not so compactly that they were squashed inside, but certainly not leaving much wiggle room either, “I’m not as crazy a plant lady as my cousin is. Minerva tells me you're quite competent at your job and it sounds like I can trust you so…if you ever need to grab something feel free to come and go through the greenhouses as you please. I just ask that if I happen to not be present to leave a note citing what you took and the quantity. Y’know, for proper record keeping ‘n all. If I know what I have then I know what I can still provide you with.”

Snape nodded lightly. “Yes… That sounds practical enough.”

“Good,” you hummed, handing him the mason jar, your fingertips just barely brushing as he took it from you. “Glad we understand each other."

______________________________________________________________

Duties aside, you and Professor Snape got along rather well. He respected your need for notes and wrote what he took crystal clear, signing them off with “S.S”. You delivered ingredients he’d sent for in a timely manner, ensuring they weren’t overly compacted or bottled improperly. He returned the courtesy when it came to any potion meant to help your plants’ growth, sometimes brewing them fresh rather than giving you a bottle that had sat on the shelf for months at a time. Sometimes he’d add a sarcastic little comment on the notes about a student or a certain DADA teacher who you’d both found to be pretentious. 

From the notes blossomed more sociable interactions. Despite being separated by multiple floors, your classes were within the same vicinity of the castle’s layout, which meant, more often than not, you’d run into him when descending down to meals as he ascended up. You’d walk with each other, and talk a little bit, whether it be about incidents in the classroom or happenings informed to the both of you from the Prophet. The conversations would continue at meals where you’d start sitting next to one another. You didn’t get to know each other beyond a collegial level until around early November when the temperature started to get colder every day and the leaves were a vibrant wash of yellow, orange, and red. Your open-door policy on your greenhouses remained the same, but you had clarified that if he ever wanted to have tea or escape the chill of the dungeons, that open-door policy extended to your warm and cozy office. One day he knocked and when you opened the door he simply stated, “It’s cold,” before you promptly held the door back further, allowing him entry. 

You’d drink tea often, sometimes while the both of you graded, passively enjoying one another’s company as you did so, sometimes sitting on the couch or chairs and having direct conversations with one another. You compared each other's schooling experience with one another, gaping at the fact that he knew so many curses and had even invented a few spells. He confessed that it was actually Lockhart’s position he wanted, not to teach potions. 

“I didn’t take you for a Hufflepuff when I first saw you,” he admitted one afternoon.

“Was there anything else to take me as, Severus? My being here was not only to satisfy the Herbology teacher role, but also to fill the Head of Hufflepuff spot.”

“Of course, just outwardly…you didn’t seem the type. And the students have joked that your creatively witty chiding ought to have landed you in Slytherin.”

You exhaled quietly. “My whole family is mostly Hufflepuff with a few Gryffindors sprinkled in, but even so I understand my general dark attire and reticence made me a bit of a black sheep amongst my peers. I can’t really disagree with you much on that second point. All I can say in my defense is that my loyalty is sharper than my tongue. If you ever need a reminder that I am indeed a Hufflepuff, know that I am always wearing this.” You rolled up the left sleeve of your dark robe to reveal a beaded bracelet around your wrist, each bead yellow with black text stamped in on the sides, spelling out “HUFFLEPUFF.”

An unexpected, incredulous smirk tugged on Severus’s lips. “You really wear that all the time?”

“Only when I’m not bathing or sleeping. My sister made it for me after we got sorted. We, unfortunately, were not placed in the same house… Don’t look at me like that!” you chuckled at the mostly feigned repulsed expression regarding your sibling's sickly sweet behavior. “I happen to like this bracelet, thank you very much!”

“Who knew under your robes was something so garishly bright,” he sneered playfully.

“You’re not as slick as you think either, Severus. Don’t think I didn’t see that Slytherin scarf beneath your cloak at the last Quidditch match,” you eyed him knowingly. He parted his lips to refute but found he had no argument and grumbled while blushing against his tea cup.

______________________________________________________________

“Pardon me, Professor Lockhart, but could I speak to you for a moment?” 

The DADA teacher replied with an “Of course, dear” as he followed you to a spot off to the side from the entrance of the Great Hall after you had finished lunch one Friday afternoon. Severus eyed the both of you as he himself was slowly exiting the Great Hall as well. He slowed his pace down significantly as he floated through the corridor so he could pick up on what you two were saying. You had never willingly started a conversation with Lockhart before.

“...going to be gone this weekend. Leaving tonight, actually…

…take care of a few plants…? I left instructions in Greenhouse 4…”

“...ourse I can! Watering a few plants should be easier than defeating a vampire or two…”

You wanted Lockhart to plant-sit for you this weekend? That actually stung him a bit. Why wouldn’t you ask him to plant-sit for you? He was perfectly capable of doing so and he knew your greenhouses like the back of his hand. Did you not actually trust him like you claimed to?

He kept silent on the matter, his expression remaining impassive as he saw you off to the midnight train in Hogsmeade that same night. 

“See you Monday, Severus,” you bid softly, lightly patting his upper arm before stepping off the platform and disappearing into the night on the train until it was no more than a dot in the distance.

Severus didn’t trust Lockhart to do what was asked of him. Not one bit. Unless it was DADA-related or stroked his ego directly, the man couldn’t be bothered to accomplish what was asked of him. He imagined the fool would pass off the task to a student. Severus unlocked Greenhouse 4 the next morning and found the instructions you had left behind for Lockhart. They were simple and bullet-pointed, detailing exactly what to do and where he could find what. All that was asked of him was to spray a batch of Alihotsy plants with a germinating solution that sat on the third shelf in the supply cabinet, rotate them out of the sun at three o’clock each day, place them back at dawn, trim the matured leaves and store them in a jar. “Eventually to be delivered to our amazing potion master,” it noted, making him smile.

Severus kept a watchful eye on Lockhart that first day. Lockhart remained in his office until lunch, and after that made a trip down to Hogsmeade, no doubt to drink and find some entertaining company. At 2:45, Snape went up to Greenhouse 4 and confirmed that nothing had been moved from when he entered there this morning, the germinating solution still sitting in the exact same spot. He sprayed them all heartily and shifted the plants to a shelf away from the sun’s sight. A few leaves had matured so he gingerly snipped them from the stem and placed them in a standard mason jar. He also noticed several snails trying to sneak their way into some Potted Mandrake and disposed of them as well as repaired some worn netting protecting the Shrivelfig that was meant to keep out aphids.

He came by Sunday morning and treated the Alihotsy the same, making sure to place them in the sun at dawn so they had absorbed plenty of light by mid-afternoon. Once again, Lockhart hadn’t even bothered. 

______________________________________________________________

You returned Monday morning while everyone was at breakfast. Upon stepping into Greenhouse 4, you sighed in relief when it looked as though your plants had indeed been taken care of in your absence. You smiled pleasantly when you noticed some protective netting had been repaired, a task you planned on getting to when you had returned, but your smile broadened even more when you noticed a muddy boot print on the ground, one that did not at all belong to Professor Lockhart.

“Thank you for taking care of the Alihotsy this weekend,” you said to Lockhart who happened to be passing by the door that led down to the kitchen as you had come back from retrieving a snack that would substitute breakfast.

“Huh? Oh!” The man quickly recovered. The look of confusion lasted not even a second before plastering on a smile. “Yes, it was nothing! You can always count on me, Y/N!” he winked. You nodded once, drifting away from the man in favor of walking alongside the potion master who was breezing by in the same corridor.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Welcome back,” he replied, hiding his delight at your return. 

“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not particularly, though I was tempted to push Lockhart down a flight of stairs multiple times.” 

“Aren’t we all,” you laughed.

He walked with you all the way back to your office, select words hanging on the tip of his tongue until finally, he couldn’t hold them back anymore as you pushed on the handle of the door.

“Lockhart didn’t take care of your plants,” Severus blurted. 

“Oh?” Your hand slipped from the handle to face him with feigned curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him and…was proven correct when he ignored the task and instead spent his time in Hogsmeade, so I took care of them,” he explained carefully.

You smiled sweetly at him, lacing your fingers together in front of you. “I know, Severus.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

“Mhm. Truthfully it wouldn't have been the end of the world had those plants gone a couple of days without treatment, but I wanted to see what Lockhart would do and how he’d react to receiving false praise. I can’t say I’m surprised by the results, really. He’s as phony as ever.”

The potion master smirked. “Quite.”

You took a small step forward, stood on your tippy toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him flush pink when you pulled back and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my plants, Severus,” you murmured, affectionately squeezing his shoulders, before slipping inside of your office. Severus stood frozen in shock, his heart drumming in his chest before he managed to stop his brain from short-circuiting further. Without warning, he entered your office as well—you did have an open door policy after all—where he received another kiss. And another. And another…

He should plant-sit for you more often.