#is it even visible under all of their bandages

[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[thegreatyin]

the implication that the scoundrel can move their wing stubs at will is. mildly horrifying

[motomamita]

JUST HAD A THOUGHT !

König as a rising underground boxer, with his cute little nurse that comes with him whenever he goes. He lets no one else look after him and all his bandages have cute symbols on it.

Media is all over him and he just can’t help but brag about his cutie patootie nurse that only cares for him, and no other boxer has eye candy like he does.😵‍💫

boxer!könig × nurse!reader

warnings: +18, smut, sex!

you needed money urgently and you were in your last year of nursing. that's when you met könig, who was a friend of a friend of yours and who needed your services in exchange for good pay.

your first meeting with him was in the basement of a bar far from the city, late at night. könig showed up in the locker room, shirtless and wearing boxer shorts. his face and entire body had bruises and scars that seemed to have healed not very well. that's when you knew you were going to have a very hard job there.

in his following fights, könig managed to win and take first place in the standings. After each fight, both received a good amount of money that you shared equally. you spent hours with him in the locker room, cleaning his bloody face and placing bandages on his bruised knuckles. sometimes you got so late that könig invited you to his small apartment, where you took care of him until you inevitably fell asleep in his bed. könig took advantage and pulled you towards him, letting you sleep on his chest.

soon König gained recognition and was invited to fight in the best competitions in the city. both became a team and had to show yourselves as such. now you were wearing a matching shirt and skirt with the inscription "property of könig" on the back, so everyone would know that you were HIS nurse. könig dressed to match you, choosing the same colors of shorts that you choose for your little skirts.

the media began to take an interest in both, calling you "the little nurse" and praising the good chemistry you both had. noticing how your face became worried every time könig received a hit or how you jumped with excitement every time he won, without caring that your panties were visible under your skirt.

you also caught the attention of the other boxers who did not miss the opportunity to look up your skirt or try to talk to you. unfortunately for them, könig was always next to you, hugging you around the waist and growling almost like a dog when any of those sons of bitches tried to get close to you.

everyone understood that it was in vain to try to separate you, you were both there for each other. könig wore a chain around his neck along with a sign with your name on it that he always kissed before entering the ring because, according to him, it gave him luck. and every time he won, he would run up to you to hug and kiss you, not caring that he was dripping with blood and sweat.

dor your part, you massaged his muscles before each fight and even sucked his cock to make him more "relaxed." könig just let you do whatever you want with him just by feeling your skin on his and not going too far away.

today könig had fought the final against another guy, for a lot, a lot of money. in a fight straight out of a movie, könig had managed to establish himself as the supreme winner. the photos of you two hugging and kissing didn't take long, as did the glasses of champagne to celebrate. once the celebrations had calmed down, you took könig to the locker room, you had to clean his bleeding nose and a large open scar on his right cheekbone. but, he had other plans.

"that's it, keep it up.. c'mon.."

könig moaned, lying on a bench, while you rode his thick, sweaty cock. in your hand you still had the gauze with which you were trying to clean his wounds but it was difficult for you to stop in the face of so much pleasure.

at your waist you wore the könig winner's belt and several bills clutched in your short skirt. you couldn't stop releasing on him, feeling how your moisture fell down the length of his cock and wet his sweaty balls. the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust while your clits slapped against his happy trail.

"keep jumping, fuck you, fuck... my little nurse, always taking care of me, huh?"

könig brought his big hands to your breasts, breaking the buttons on your shirt and moving your bra, leaving your breasts in the air. you moaned at the change in temperature and your warm walls squeezed könig's throbbing cock. the breaths and moans of both of you echoed in the locker room as did the sound of your skin colliding.

"come on, make me cum, i know you can..."

he asked, now bringing his hands to your hips, helping you continue bouncing his cock. könig couldn't resist and raised his hips, fucking you hard and finishing inside you.

that night you returned home with the prize and with even more energy to fuck until the next morning.

[iid-smile]

megumi would...

if you were dating them series.

get flustered if you casually mention your relationship to others. he would turn his head away, or hide his face with the collar of his uniform, concealing his bright red cheeks. this is most apparent when you directly refer to him as your boyfriend instead of his name. and you don't even hesitate? god, he's burning up. he'd be too shy to say something like that himself, and only refers to you by your name. if the relationship is secret, then he'd say your surname instead of your given name.

insist he's fine after missions. he could literally be required to rest in bed for his injuries, but still say he's okay to go on that date the two of you have been planning for a while. he'll endure the pain for your sake, and swear that the bandages and plasters on his body don't even hurt (they do). he won't stop until you seriously get upset about how stubborn he's being, and only then will he admit that the wounds hurt a bit.

let you try his coffee. he always drinks it black, and, if you don't like black coffee, you somehow manage to make the mistake of asking to take a sip. honestly, he'd share anything with you if you ask, so he does say yes, knowing full well you'll find it too bitter. if you don't have a drink for yourself, he'll buy you something sweet to make up for it, or even make one himself, like hot chocolate. then, you two can enjoy your respective drinks together.

lighten up his tone when talking to you. everybody can tell too. he himself wouldn't notice unless someone else pointed it out. it just comes naturally to him, probably from his fear of making you upset with how blunt he can be. it's the most visible when he's in a conversation with you and someone like itadori or gojo, then his voice is changing all the time. yes, he does feel a bit stupid, but he can't help it. if the two of you are on public transport and sitting next to each other, he'd rather whisper than talk normally.

let you choose whatever you guys decide to eat. he's not the pickiest eater, so most of the time he's fine with whatever. unbeknownst to him, you usually do pick something that goes well with ginger, his favourite, and he's under the impression that he gets lucky every time with what you choose. he does the same thing, and when you do want him to pick, it's always your favourite food or restaurant.

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

[theres-a-body-here]

Love Letter Aftermath

First part

The realization of receiving a love admission sinks in for the killers

Characters: Oni, Trapper, Deathslinger, Mastermind, Cannibal, Ghostface Warnings: Some spice Male!reader

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

He's angry

Angry at you for giving him that damn letter

And angry at himself for keeping it

He keeps it on his shrine

Even while he tries to distract himself with training between trials, your letter is all that's on his mind

At least once a day, for a couple of minutes, he stares at the letter while working up the courage to crumple it and dispose of it

He never can

When Rin found the letter, his heat sunk

She thought it was cute, but rolled her eyes at how Kazan was acting

The days following the letter, you've noticed in trials with Oni, he never downs you with his Kanabo anymore, only his Katana

Even during chases, when he's activated his blood fury right behind you, he stampedes off somewhere to down anyone else

And when he carries you to hooks, you've noticed how gently he holds you

But he never stays after hooking you and seems to avoid your gaze

Strangely, Rin has been giving you some leeway during trials as well

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

When he got back to his realm after the trial, he immediately went to work on making a box for the letter

Yeah, a whole keepsake box for a single letter

He places it next to the box where he keeps his old drawings

Whenever he sees you in trials, he still gets those butterflies

If you step in one of his traps, he's immediately rushing to where he heard you scream

If he sees any other survivors trying to free you, he swats at them

Evan gently pulls at the jaw of the trap and pulls it apart, letting you retract your injured foot

He's trying his hardest not to ogle your legs

"Sorry," he mutters gruffly, his hands holding your leg softly while he inspects the damage

He picked up some gauze that one of the others dropped and begins to bandage your wound

He can feel your gaze burning holes into his mask as he works

He's the one to break the silence

"I've killed you... and your friends, over and over."

There's a long pause on your end before you respond

"I know"

You two leave it at that

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

Caleb keeps the letter under the bar counter in his realm

Whenever he returns from an exhausting or lost trial, he looks at it

A small part of him still thinks you're messing with him

He's way too nervous and skittish around you now to do anything, so you're gonna have to initiate everything

In trials, you do your best to spend time with him

Especially when you insist that he treats you no different

When he carries you to hook, you take the moment to touch him

You turn your head to plant a kiss on the back of his neck

Caleb visibly shivers and lets out a groan

"Yer tryin' ta kill me, ain'tcha?"

"Is it working?"

Despite you asking otherwise, he tends to leave you alone when he can in trials, opting to hide the others

If you confront him about it, he'll deny it

The Mastermind - Albert Wesker

He keeps your letter in the inner pocket of his jacket

You definitely have his full attention now

Don't expect any special treatment, because he's not gonna give it

In fact, he seems to actively seek you out first if he knows you're in his trial

Wesker gets angry when you can't loop him for more than a couple of minutes

"Are you even trying? Pathetic"

While carrying you to a hook, he's lecturing you all the way

"You didn't run it tight enough. You were too greedy with the pallet. You didn't check your blind spots."

He'll get even more irritated if you start to tear up

Can't you see he's trying to help you?

Wesker refuses to have someone so vulnerable as an admirer

So you better get to it

If you do manage to improve and become better in trials, his attitude changes

It goes from scoldings to rewards

He takes off his gloves to hold your chin and pull you close

You feel his lips ghost over your cheek and shiver when he tightens his grip on you

He stares at your face, drinking up your reactions

And then he lets you go, watching as your face twists from dazed to confused

"What? Were you expecting a kiss?"

You're gonna have to do a lot more if you wanna get a smooch from him

The Cannibal - Bubba Sawyer

He tapped your letter to the side of his chainsaw

He gets all giddy when he glances at it during his sweeps, especially if he manages to down a survivor

It's his good luck charm

If he spots you in a trial, he'll literally drop everything to rush over and give you hug

Bubba would honestly hug you all trial if you let him

He's definitely become a bit more protective over you, maybe even prone to jealousy

He doesn't even let anyone work on gens with you, revving his chainsaw if anyone gets too close

Once everyone gets the message and leaves you two be, he'll sit behind you as you work and hug you

Expect lots of nuzzles

Bubba whines when the gen is completed and you have to stand up to find a new one

He follows you like a puppy until you find the next one and the process begins anew

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Danny doesn't really have anywhere he can store the letter safely

So he does the logical thing and memorizes it's contents, word for word

He doesn't care what happens to the paper

Sometimes during trials, he'll tease you by reciting it during chases

Even adding things you're certain you never added

"And I promise to always let you smash whenever and wherever you want," he says, mimicking your voice as you dangle from the hook

"I NEVER WROTE THAT!!"

Being her favorite, The Entity doesn't care if Danny spares you every trial

But he won't

Because he's a meanie

"No hard feelings, right boo?" He coos as he plunges his blade into your back

If you're sore about it, he's more than happy to make it up to you

He'll run his cold leather-gloved hands under your shirt, pressing you against a wall as you try to stay angry

"Come on, don't be like that," he mutters into your ear, squishing your sides

If you fold now, he'll tease you for being whipped

But if you stay strong, he'll pull out the big guns

He buries his masked face into your neck, slowly grinding his hips against yours

"You feel that, baby? You feel how sorry I am?" He growls, pressing his hard-on against you

[yawujin]

how the v3 boys would react to being called a 'pretty boy'

type | short-read , reaction , non killing game, lighthearted, fluff , gender neutral reader.

shuichi saihara ♡

he would be caught off guard

he would begin to smile and not be able to stop

that is, until he clears his throat to stop himself

you could still see his lips though

he looked so funny trying to hide his expression from you

"that's—" he would start, but give up and just let out an awkward laugh

'that means a lot coming from someone like you'

is what he would say but

he's still so very shy whenever you're near

poor boy bless him

rantaro amami ♡

he'd be very accepting towards your compliment

he gets it a lot after all

he's very sweet though so

he would definitely give you a compliment in return

then you become the one who's flustered

"what can i say? it's true (Y/N)." he smiles

internally you're just like '!!!"

but in the end you take the compliment

you just can't deny it

K1B0/kiibo ♡

oh, he's very flattered

believe me

he just doesn't know how to express it

human emotions are hard

"thanks! uh—really..."

how do you even return a compliment?

think, kiibo, think!

all in all, he wants to give one back buttt

he wants it to seem heartfelt and NOT robotic

he'll get back to you later, bringing you a whole thank you card

he's trying his best

korekiyo shinguji ♡

his eyes crinkle, the only visible display of how hard he's smiling under his mask

"thank you very much, dear." he would reply

he's very appreciative towards you

seeing as you can only see a little bit of him because of his bandaged body and mask

he's very happy that you perceive him as pretty

even if you can't see all of him

perhaps

little by little, he'll start showing more off to you

only time will tell

kehehehe

kaito momota ♡

you already know he'll have the biggest smile on his face

he grabs you in an instant and pulls you in for a tight hug, patting you on the back

he kind of pats you hard but it's well-meaning

ofc he sends a compliment right back at you

"and don't let anybody EVER tell you otherwise!"

he tells shuichi and maki about it later

and everybody else too

"guess who's a certified pretty boy? this guyyyy" he points to himself

he's seriously so happy about it

gonta gokuhara ♡

at first he misheard you

he thought you were saying the bugs were pretty

"yes! bugs very pretty!"

you agreed but also repeated yourself

he shyly looks away

a cute lil grin on his face

"(Y/N) think gonta pretty?"

yes ofc

he smiles wider and adjusts his specs

"gonta thank you...very much."

ryoma hoshi ♡

he pulls his beanie down onto his face bashfully

your compliment was sooo unexpected for him

"surely, you can't be serious." he murmured

oh but you were

and you reassured him you were

he sighs, finally getting over that initial embarrassment

"okay...fine."

he accepts it!

"but only because it's coming from you."

(his own silly little way of giving you one back and showing that he trusts your judgement)

kokichi ouma ♡

he'll think you're lying

he'll also give you this funny look like he's trying to get you to admit that you're lying

you already caught onto this

but you say nothing else and just smile back at him

it causes him to break into laughter

"you really crack me up, you know that?"

on the inside, he doesn't know what else to say or how else to express his thanks

so he just makes fun of you and leaves

and once he does

your words just replay in his head over and over

'shit, maybe they weren't lying...'

⋆ ˚｡⋆ my ao3

[servicpop]

kinktober extra — gun play leon s. kennedy x bttm male reader

ⓘ neighbour (slight ooc) leon ! clothed leon naked reader ! he puts the gun up your ass

The outbreak was doing you no good, and the fact that you were all alone when all went to hell wasn't helping much either. However, being locked in the safety of your home gave you time to hideout while the worst washed over. Though eventually, you were forced outside to scavenge for food. Unlocking your front door as delicate as tip toeing around a sleeping lion, you quietly stepped outside the comfort of your home.

You were fortunate enough to be greeted with desolate streets; only the occasional ripped up paper or trash rolled across the ground. You had almost nothing, not even a gun, just a baseball bat you bought awhile ago to play with your friends once, only to never touch it again until now. At least you took the time to impale nails to add a little more offense to your weapon.

After some soft crunching of gravel under your feet and walking through eerily quiet roads, you were met with a convenience store. The neon signs were busted and didn't glow anymore but you were able to make out some un-raided shelves behind the shattered windows.

You pushed on the front door, the quiet jingle of the door opening made you jump out your skin for a second, why'd the bell still work despite everything else being broken? You tried to keep your footsteps light, navigating around the fallen shelves and racks on the floor. Seeing a few canned foods still untouched and packets of chips as well as some beverages, you felt a twinge of relief wash over you. This was probably enough for you to not go outside for a few weeks.

You decided to walk behind the register, searching for some candy or others that would be stocked there. With no luck your eyes met the employees only door, slightly ajar. Clutching your bat in your right hand, you slowly opened the door before you were met with a light tap on your forehead. A gun, held by a blonde man who seemed to have seen it all.

“A survivor? I feel like its been ages since I've seen another living human being,” He sighed, lowering his weapon and pulling you into the room by your arm. You felt him pause abruptly once getting a good look at your face and you blinked away your initial fear upon having a gun pointed to your head.

“Oh, you're my neighbour aren't you?” The corners of Leon's lips twitched into a slight curve but not enough to be counted as a wholehearted smile.

“Leon? I thought everyone in the neighbourhood turned,” You on the other hand couldn't help but smile seeing a familiar face after fully believing you were the only human left on earth. You take a small glance around the room, noting the equipment stuffed into one corner and a makeshift sleeping bag as well as a first aid kit that had been visibly used.

You knew he was an agent from having small chats over the fence, and from the looks of things, even those who undergo arduous training suffered — even if it was a little bit more bearable for them than others.

Leon's grip eventually loosens and he turns his back to you as he walks to the far wall, sliding down against it into a seated position. From here, the bandaged up gash on his side peeks out from the rips of his shirt. That's why the glass was as broken as it was, it was a sign of Leon's fight with the undead.

Following in his footsteps you go to sit down beside him, pulling your knees to your chest as you turn to look at him. His eyebags have never been darker and there's a frown that stains his face. Leon breaks the silence while pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it, his gun clacking as he moved.

“So, it's just you?” He questions, and you can hear the awkwardness in his voice. He's never been a good talker, everytime you met him while on a walk thr conversations usually ended with a quick excuse to pull away from it. You blame it on him having to see more horrors than the average person.

“Is that a bad thing?” You mean it in a playful way, placing your hands over your knees as a cushion for your cheek to rest on. You almost burst out laughing when you see Leon tense and you can practically see the panic that he's offended you in his eyes.

“No— No, not at all,” he tries to defend himself.

“Would you rather that flower girl who lives down the street?” It's a running joke that the neighbourhood shares of Leon that the big, cold agent is in love with the soft, florist girl.

He shoots you a glare, one that shows just how many times he's heard it over and over again. Instead of replying, he turns his head with a scoff like a bunny stomping its foot angrily. You brush it off as well after seeing his lack of a response and your eyes draw to the gun that's still held firmly in Leon's hand. It would be handy for you to learn how to use one since the bat won't always be useful.

“Do you think you could maybe teach me how to use that?” You ask almost hesitantly, fiddling with your fingers in a nervous habit.

“The gun?” Leon questions, tilting the gun so he could look at it properly. One part of him doesn't want you to use it, it creates an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach seeing a guy like you hold such a murderous weapon. The other part knows it's for the best, for your own protection when he has to part ways with you. After a minute of just staring at the gun, he finalises his decision.

“Sure, I guess you'll need it in the future,” he groans as he stands back up, hand on his thigh like he was an old man getting up from his rocking chair. He tousels his wispy blonde hair, combing it back with his fingers before focusing his attention on you.

His thick black eyelashes flutter as he stares at your face for a second, walking up to you and caging your hands in his. He guides your hands to the pistol, letting you feel the cold metal to familiarise yourself. He doesn't say a thing while he lets you feel the barrel and the grip. The grip feels almost scratchy which he lightly scoffs at your expression when your fingers ghosted over the texture.

“That's why my hands are all calloused,” he faces his palm up, showing you his toughened palm while he flexes his fingers.

“You have to hold it like this, firm grip, two hands.” Leon helps to guide your hands in place, adjusting your fingers and your wrist.

He whispers under his breath “Just like that,” watching as you hold the gun straight, aiming at the blank wall. You know it's best not to fire, though, that would attract whatever monster lays outside. The gun trembles, shaking like a stripped leaf, and you realise that your hands are quivering. You're not cut out for this. You feel the weight of Leon's hand lower the gun and he gently slips the weapon away from your hands and into his.

“You have to get desensitised to it, who knows what might happen without me,” Leon's eyebrows furrow and his nose creases from the pure thought of you getting captured and held at gun-point. It wasn't far from what could actually happen either considering the law was disregarded the moment people started eating eachothers brains.

Leon raises the pistol and presses the muzzle to your adams apple, feeling it bob from your swallows.

“Does it scare you?” It's not a threatening statement, it's him asking how you really feel having the gun pressed up against your skin. The hitch of your breath goes unnoticed as Leon drags the pistol lower to your chest. With the way he's looking down, you can see his dark eyelashes, a sliver of his muted blue iris' peeked through. He really was handsome.

“Or is it because you trust me that much?” The question jolts you out of your little trance, he was only your neighbour yet you didn't seem to react in fear when he held the gun to you.

“Maybe,” you breath out, letting your gaze flutter to the pistol dragging down your chest. Leon pulls it away before bringing it up and tapping the flat side of the barrel against your cheek. There's a certain look in his eyes, its almost pitiful like a hunter watching the deer caught in the net lay completely still, unfazed.

Leon leans closer to your face, his nose practically brushing against yours. You could almost make out the faint breaths if you listened close enough and you see his tongue dart out to wet his lips before he swallowed thickly.

“I think you're liking this a little too much,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly to the right as he looks down at you, his hair falling to the direction he moves his head at. The way Leon speaks now is hushed, sultry even. He's only half joking, he sees the way your eyelids flicker a little too rapidly when he glides the muzzle over your clothes.

Your face flushes, realising that he's caught on your little inner turmoil.

“It's just the adrenaline.” You swallow your lie like it's medication; it's hard to go unnoticed when you so obviously gulp. It's not fully a lie though — you've read in a previous article things like erections can happen due to adrenaline. You squeeze your eyes shut, almost like you're preparing to be scolded by Leon.

But all you're met with is a small sigh and a shake of his head.

“If you want it, do it quickly, we won't have time to indulge in distractions in the heat of things.” Your eyes fling open, caught off guard by the fact that the Leon, your neighbour, just gave you the greenlight. You look up at him through your lashes and he returns your gaze with a small glint of reciprocating desire. The absence of an opportunity for sex really catches up when you're surrounded by infected and never in a safe position.

Before you can even say anything, Leon is already slipping off your shirt; your jacket had already been discarded when you entered the employee's only room. He takes a moment to skim over your naked body, observing all the dips and curves, and the fact that your blush reaches all the way down to your shoulders. He brushes the muzzle over your chest, and upon seeing you shiver at the coolness, a smirk quirks on his lips.

“Cold?”

“Yeah,”

You whine, gripping his forearm in a lousy attempt to stop him from rubbing the metal on your nipple. It doesn't stop him though, he gently grazes your perky buds, chuckling softly as he watches your eyebrows knit from the feeling.

“Sorry then,” he hums with amusement coloring his tone. Leon's breath becomes shallower as he trails the gun down along the line in the middle of your abdomen, all the way down to your pants.

“You're going to be the death of me,” He grunts out, delicately guiding you to lean against the wall. His arm is wrapped so securely around your back like a warm embrace. The warmth of his arm around your bare back shields you from the frigid material of the wall but the second he slips it away from you your back arches off uncomfortably.

“Bare it,” Leon pushes you back against the wall and you whimper at the cold. Its somewhat cruel how he's doing this but you understand its to get your body used to the harsh changes in environments. He mumbled small praises that are inaudible to your ears but you can barely make out the words 'good boy.'

His fingers tug at your zipper, pulling it down but you reach out to stop him, noticing how he's not taking any of his clothes off. Like he was reading your mind, Leon scoffs with a small smirk.

“I can't, it's too risky to have to put anything on if we get ambushed,” He links his fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your boxers, stretching it out a bit before pulling them down to rest at your mid thigh.

“But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself,” He places one arm at the side of your head, caging it in, and his other weilds the pistol. He can't take off his clothes so he can't fuck you properly but he resorts to using his gun instead. It's shameless with the way he's spreading the soft flesh of your thighs apart with a gun like he was slotting his dick between them.

His eyes aren't on you, they're on your body, carefully sliding the hunk of metal against your hole. It almost hurts with how dry and cold the metal feels against your skin but you don't complain. Leon muses when he sees your cock twitch when he slides the muzzle up from the base to your pink tip. He quirks an eyebrow at you, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Feels weird doesn't it? Promise once we're out of this shithole I'll give you everything you want,” Again, Leon goes off about something in the future. He's thinking of a future with you after things smooth over, you can't help but bite back the small moan you were going to let out. His bangs are now covering his eyes when he returns his gaze to your lower half.

Your hips instinctively move against the barrel of the gun, sliding yourself against it. Its like the pleasure is almost there but not really, its left you struggling to find good friction. Leon notices your strangled whines and contorted face and he feels slightly guilty for not being able to give you the relief you definitely need.

He spits on the gun, lubing it up and taking a mental note to polish and clean it afterwards. Leon tilts the muzzle up, wriggling it past your tight rim. When the tip of gun enters you, you gasp, straightening your body from the foreign object being stuffed in your ass.

“Leon—” your voice cracks.

“Trust me.”

He can hear the slight panic in your voice and his palm moves to cover your eyes. You're squirming, unsure of whether to lean in or pull away from the sensation. He pushes himself up against you to keep you still since his hands are already full. Leon groans gently at how much warmth he can feel seeping into his clothes from your body heat.

He slowly pushes the gun further, tuning into the soft squelching sounds of the metal making its way through your walls. Leon couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous of how his pistol was able to feel your wet walls clenching around it rather than himself.

“Shit, you're taking it better than I thought,” He grumbled under his breath, thrusting the metal into you, attempting to push it even deeper to find your sweet spot. Leon finally moved his hands from your eyes and placed his hand on your waist, extending his thumb to rub circles over your stomach. He twists the gun inside you, flushing against your prostate. The sudden jolt of pleasure caused you to cry out and reach to grab his shoulders.

He pushed against your prostate a few times, observing how your eyes would water with each thrust and how your teeth would bite down even harder on your bottom lip the more he hit that specific spot. He slowly pulled the gun fully out with a small pop.

“Didn't know that would work,” He joked lightly, slotting the gun between your legs once more and squeezing your thighs together. He threw the gun from one hand into the other, gripping the pistol in his left hand. Leon slid his ring and middle finger alongside your ass, dipping down the curve to meet your already stretched hole. He dipped his fingers inside, already burying his fingers up to his knuckles.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingers up to press against the deepest parts of you. Leon dragged the gun back and forth between your thighs, letting you hump the metal like a dog.

“Attaboy,” he chuckled darkly, moving his fingers faster, practically slapping his palm against your tail bone as he fingered you from behind. Pre-cum started to bead off your slit and smeared all over Leon's gun.

“You're already getting so wet,” he shook his head, feigning disappointment as he moved the gun to trace your tip, ghosting over your skin.

You whined and thrashed from the ticklish sensation, but when you tried to lean away from it, you ended up pushing up against Leon's fingers, letting them reach even deeper.

“Leon,” you mewl, gripping his shoulders desperately as your dick twitches feverishly. “'M gonna cum.”

Your soft whimpers undoubtedly got his dick hard and he swore if you kept up with the whining he'd really just take off his pants and fuck the life out of you. Leon didn't respond, he just swallowed a groan and curled his fingers to your prostate.

Feeling that familiar spark in your veins, your body convulsed and you let out a high-pitched moan, blanking out as you shot ropes of cum out, dirtying Leon's gun with white.

“I got you, I got you, don't worry,” He felt your legs give out and quickly caught you, letting you lean on him while you came down from your high. Leon pulled the gun from your legs, turning it side to side and watching as your semen dripped down the sides.

Would it even work anymore?

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness?

Sylus/right hand man!reader Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ao3

SUMMARY:

You'd been down on your luck for the past few years, scavenging for food no matter how disgusting it was. Anything to keep you alive, right?

That is until you bump into the leader of Onichynus, whose interest piqued due to the odd glow under the skin of your inner wrist, allowing you access to information within a single glance. In exchange for you to be his right hand man, his informant, you'll live under his roof.

ao3

“So, what do you say?” That low honey of a voice echoed in your mind as your jaw clenched, eyes darting around to assess the situation. Your health was as low as your wealth at that moment; you could not spare another day on the streets, else you might fall. Literally.

You glanced at the inside of your wrist, where a small spot in it, right above your pulse, glowed a soft red. Hesitantly, you looked back up at the leader of Onichynus, whose smirk never left him. “I just have to be your… your what— secretary, basically?”

He shrugged, and you envied the nonchalance present in every action he did. “If that’s what you want to call it, then by all means, kitten, yes. My secretary.”

You cringed at the nickname before deeply sighing, shoulders dropping as you lazily brought your right hand up, and the leader of Onichynus eyed your glowing wrist. “Alright then,” you finally said, smiling awkwardly as he grinned, shaking your hand firmly. “But don’t call me kitten.”

Sylus just laughed. “Okay, sweetie.”

“(Name) is just fine.”

“What about (Nickname)?”

You pondered over it, hand still gripping his. It didn’t sound that bad, and no one’s really called you that before. You nodded, shaking his hand once more. “Deal.”

----

If you think that the leader of Onichynus is a mystery, his right hand man is tenfold.

Always in the shadows yet never leaving their master’s side; that’s what others had usually taken note of. To conceal their identity, they wear a dark hood that covers half their face, only revealing a small upturn of their lips if you were truthful or worthy of their master’s attention or a slight frown if they realized you just tried to fool the leader of Onichynus. 

In fact, there would be times wherein he would visibly show care about the verdict of his right hand man. Just a simple shake of their head would send you begging and sobbing for mercy. Some had never even seen the light of day ever again.

Who this person actually was, no one knew. There were no discernable features about them except for one thing: a soft glow that despite the many layers of bandages tried to hide never actually shrouded its light on their right wrist. It would flicker and dim, yet in some cases pulse and glimmer. Was it a protocore imbued in their body? Or was it something else?

Many who lived to tell the tale of meeting the leader knew of his two henchmen, kept always close by their side, but not them. Never their right hand man.

You physically cringed and recoiled at the use of the word ‘master’ before removing your gaze at what Tara was reading from her phone. “That sounds so—”

“Cool? Intriguing?” Tara butted in, eyes gleaming at the sudden introduction to a new figure in the N109 Zone. You deadpanned, leaning down to swipe away from the app she was reading it from. She pouted at you before setting her phone down as you spoke. “No,” you countered. “Edgy.”

Tara’s shoulders slumped at your words. “It is not! This may be new information! Not many people talk about the N109 Zone, you know.” As you rolled your eyes at that statement, ready to refute her, she interrupted you before you even opened your mouth. “And besides, people are going crazy over this. See?”

She opened her phone once more to show you the comments of the post she read the excerpt from. Your lips curled in disgust as you read each one. 

“dont u think thats lowkey really hot” “wait whys that kinda…” “the hood stays on.” “how come we’ve never seen them before?” 

You snorted at the last one. At least they had common sense. “I don’t get the hype. It’s either a myth, or someone just trying to do their job.” You clasped your hands, startling Tara. “Which is what we should be doing right now! Isn’t that right, Tara? Don’t you have a bit of paperwork that you’ve been holding off on?”

She grunted, clearly stunned. “Wait, how’d you know that—”

“I’m off to do mine then! Toodle-loo!” You exclaimed, already halfway to your desk. When your face was finally out of your friend’s vision, you grimaced, a whine coming out of you. Who had the audacity to put that up on social media? You’ll have to ask Sylus to take it down later.

—--

“Okay so,” you started, tapping the inside of your right wrist, a 3D diagram of a tall building appearing. “The auction, as you know, starts in 3 hours. Many of the underground’s elite are joining, and so are some people who got introduced to events like this via the Nest. There will be new faces so I am begging you, please keep your sassiness to yourself for just one day. I know it’ll be hard, but I promise you it’ll be harder if you just have extra nuisances. Oh, and by the way—”

“(Nickname),” his voice snapped you out of your rambling. “I think I’ll be fine.”

You whipped your head at him before scoffing, shrugging as you tapped your wrist again, removing the diagram. “Suit yourself.” As you sat down on the edge of Sylus’ bed (with that, you earned a slight raise of a brow from him, whose back was leaned on the bed’s headrest), you clicked your tongue. “And just so you know, there is a theme to this, so I’d rather you go with cool colors instead of your normal red—”

“Thank you, my right hand man, but I’m afraid I’m sticking with red,” your boss plainly interrupted, irking you. What irritated you even more was the use of your title. You hated being called Sylus’ “right hand man” despite it being true. 

You pursed your lips, nodding stiffly. “Right, about that whole ‘right hand man�� thing, there’s this post that’s been blowing up on social media about me, and it’s making me sound way worse than I am. Could you have it taken down?”

Sylus smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly before picking his phone up from the nightstand. After a quick while, he lazily showed you the exact post. “Is it this one?”

A sigh of relief escaped you as you nodded, lips curled up. That is until you realized he was the one that posted it in the first place. Your shoulders slumped as you quickly attacked him, trying to grab the phone from him as he reached it up. 

You heard a small grunt coming out of him when his back harshly hit the headboard, but you couldn’t care less. “Take it down!” You exclaimed, kneeling on his thighs to reach higher. Sylus swiftly brought it down, however, grinning when he saw the annoyance drawn all over your face. “And why should I? It gives you good face.”

“But it paints the wrong picture of me!” You whined, stooping down to grab his wrist. A shine of victory sparkled on your face when you did, but he only raised his brows, merely allowing you to do so. He’s going easy on you. “There are people thirsting over me!” 

At that, Sylus barked out laughter, ripping his wrist away from your grip. “There are? I haven’t checked the comments yet.” 

Suddenly, a wash of horror swept through you, and your efforts to catch the phone doubled. “Wait no, don’t—”

“‘Is this what the dark romance girlies were looking for?’” He read out, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. He switched his phone to the other hand as you tried to grab it, but to no avail. “‘Why have the leader when you can have the right hand man?’ Okay, ouch.” Sylus sarcastically remarked, and you winced at the comments. “Enough, Sylus!”

“You should be flattered, (Nickname),” he said, causing you to stop in your antics. “It’s annoying. Now, take it down—”

You yelped the moment you felt his free hand on your chest, flipping your positions with ease. Jaw clenched, you glared at him, trying to pry off his hand. “How about this?” Sylus negotiated. “I’ll take the post down,” with that, you exhaled, a weight suddenly lifted from your shoulders. “If you go to the auction with me tonight.”

…what.

You scoffed as you stared at him, brows scrunching up. “I’ve never been to an auction with you before.”

“You have—”

“Not in person! I was always just a little crow pin on your coat.” You argued, sitting up on Sylus’ bed as he got off on top of you, rolling his eyes at your words. “What’s the difference?”

You blinked at him, scoffing incredulously. “‘What’s the difference?’ What’s the difference? The difference is that I actually have to talk to the damn people! And they’re gonna go all crazy because, ‘ooh, the leader of Onichynus has a new woman on his arm’!” 

He chuckled at your imagination and anxieties, standing up to go fix himself. “Alright then, the post stays up—”

“Wait!” You stopped, a hand out. Sylus looked at you expectantly, as if he already knew what your answer would be. You felt your eye twitch at his expression, and he just “innocently” smiled at it, though there was barely anything innocent about him. You sighed, posture slouching in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go with you,” you mumbled.

A smile of victory that was supposed to be on your face appeared on your boss’. “Perfect. The dress is already in your closet.”

Your face slowly contorted as you processed his words. ‘The dress’? Just as he was about to enter his bathroom to freshen up, you straightened your back on his bed. “What dress? Were you anticipating this?”

No response came from him except for low laughter, mocking you as you grumbled your way out of his room. 

Your boss is going to be the death of you, you swear.

—--

As you walked the long hallway and took a sharp turn to your right to go to your room, you took a deep breath. This is going to be your first time actually showing yourself in public without any disguise, without any cover, ever since you decided to work under Sylus a couple years ago. Sure you knew a bit of social etiquette in terms of formal settings and such, but those were all from books; you never inclined yourself to actually join Sylus in any of them. From what you’ve heard from him, they were usually boring, where the filthy rich conversed whilst participating in illegal activities. And though the filthy rich part caught your attention, the “boring” did not. Nor did the illegal activities. You didn’t give a rat’s ass about what Sylus or people like him did behind the law’s back, but you were still technically a hunter. If word spreads that someone from Linkon City’s handful of heroes is engaging in sketchy weapon trading, then you would be utterly screwed.

You opened the door to your room with a sigh, though whether it was one of relaxation at the sight of your luxurious suite-like room, or one of frustration at how Sylus practically forced you to join him, you weren’t quite sure. Nevertheless, you bee-lined straight towards your walk-in closet, an addition Sylus willingly placed in your contract a week or so after when he realized just how material-oriented you were. 

Ah, right, Sylus loved spoiling you.

You could prove that fact by glancing at your wardrobe. It was certainly way bigger than the room you lived in (stolen) before working as Sylus’ right hand man. Lit up with warm pin lights outlining the perimeter on the top and on the bottom, clothes and jewelry alike made the room look like Heaven. And you would constantly ask yourself if this was Heaven, indeed. To your left were the fancier types of clothing, perfectly tailored to fit your measurements, and to the right were the clothes you would wear for day-to-day (designer, of course. Wouldn’t want Sylus’ money to go to waste). In the middle was a glass island with jewelry that cost more than a fortune, and probably more than your life. It gleamed horribly bright due to the mix of metals and gems. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, you could probably name it all. Though you preferred some over others, a little bit of everything didn’t hurt anyone, right? Certainly not Sylus’ wallet.

You would’ve felt bad for buying more than half of what you have in your closet using Sylus’ money, but his closet cost more than yours ever could. And every time you’d borrow his sweet little black card to go shopping, he never said a word, just a single turn of his lips of approval as you skipped your way towards the most expensive shops you knew. And a good chunk of your belongings were gifts from him, too —”as a token of gratitude”, he’d always say (you never believed him)— so you knew that he didn’t care.

Whether you liked the idea of it or not, you had agreed to become his right hand woman —his secretary, even— so you couldn’t really complain when people called you that (despite not knowing who you really are). Plus, the job came with benefits, so might as well suck it up. 

One thing caught your eye, though, and that was a box on top of a cushioned chair in the corner of the closet. It was beige with a silver ribbon tied on the top, a deep contrast to the darker palette of your room. Stealthily, you walked towards it, brow raised, before your entire body relaxed when you noticed the familiar handwriting on a simple yet sophisticated card on top of it. Only thing written on it was, “wear this.”

You pursed your lips as you rolled your eyes, opening the box without any hesitation. And to say you were impressed at Sylus’ ability to constantly not follow rules he didn’t want to follow would be an understatement.

You scoffed as you brought the beautiful dress out of its cage. This edgelord decided to gift you with a wondrous deep red silk dress, its sweetheart neckline low enough to entice but not low enough to seduce. It accommodated for its lack of fabric in the higher chest area with puffy sleeves that you assumed were off the shoulder, catching the warm light in smooth lines. You brought it out fully, placing it against yourself and relishing at how it looked in the full-length mirror. Bottom-wise, it covered just about everything except for a rather daring slit that ended somewhere around your high thigh. Who did he think you were, a stripper? 

…Well if the money called for it—

You shook your head, carefully draping the dress on the matching chair on the other corner to freshen yourself up. You couldn’t wait to try it on. 

—--

You let out an exhale when the last curl fell from the iron, the heat kissing your bare skin. You hissed at it but solved the problem by brushing it away from your neck. Your eyes trailed towards the faint glow on your right wrist, then the golden jewelry on your vanity table, then at yourself. Hesitance was written all over your features, eyes not leaving yours in the mirror as you place a rather glimmery bracelet on to cover your wrist. You always thought the shinier something is, the more the glow would dim. Would camouflage. 

What snapped you out of your thoughts were a familiar pair of hands gently grabbing the dainty necklace right in front of you, and clasping it around your neck. Your gaze left your own to lock with his, though his eyes were focused more on your hair (or neck?) than on you. 

It wasn’t long after that that he looked back at you with an amused turn of lips. “Are you ready?” His voice reverberated in your head, as it had been a good hour or two without the presence of one, the only thing your ears had been hearing up until his entrance being simple jazz instrumentals from your bedroom.

You glanced at your feet, which were currently bare, before shaking your head. “Give me a minute—”

But before you could even do anything, Sylus knelt down, picking up one red-bottomed stiletto from the pair and slipping it on your foot with ease. To a normal person, that would’ve certainly given them a scary amount of butterflies, having a man on his knees, practically serving you by being the one to put on your shoes for you. However, your boss had done this multiple times in the past. So many times that you’d grown accustomed to it. 

“These heels aren’t that bad, (Nickname), why don’t you use them more often?” He commented, placing the other one on your other foot. You snorted, an opposition to your current elegant figure. “I barely go out. What, you want me to wear these when I’m hunting wanderers or just in the house?”

Sylus shrugged, standing up. He placed a hand on his hip as you stood up as well. Despite you wearing a good couple inches worth of heels, he towered over you somehow. “Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Let’s just go.” 

—--

The moment Sylus stepped into the room, everyone’s eyes were on him. Or rather the pretty little thing linked on his arm.

Sylus’ expression remained that of indifference as he practically pranced around, and most people would assume he was showing you off. You’ve known him for long enough, though; you knew he wasn’t trying to. In fact, you assumed it was probably your stance.

Chin held up high, eyes sharply scanning the area through lazily held up eyelids, chest puffed out, shoulders pulled back, and stride confidently pompous. You were a new figure. Sure, your attitude was something the people inside of the building had seen one too many times; your position, however, was not. 

Who was this new woman beside Sylus, the leader of Onichynus? And why has she just popped up now, out of the blue? 

After a couple beats of silence, whispers erupted all around the two now most important figures of the event. And with that, a small smile ghosted on your lips. One that Sylus noticed.

“Enjoying the attention, I see,” he whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear. “Have I not been giving you enough?”

“Careful there,” you responded through a forced smile, eye twitching. “People might hear you acting like something comparable to a partner. Then I’d have a whole nother problem to deal with”

Sylus just laughed at your statement, unlinking your arms. You glanced at him, confusion clear in your expression. He leaned down, almost as if he was bowing, and you thought that that was exactly what he was about to do… until you noticed a very familiar card slotted between his pointer and middle finger.

Your eyes visibly gleamed at the sight as you gasped. “Really?”

He just shrugged, lips almost forming a pout as he straightened his posture. “Of course, if you don’t want it—”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sylus?” You excitedly said, snatching the black card with the same amount of enthusiasm. He watched you memorize the numbers engraved on it (though he knew you had it burned in your retinas) with a chuckle. “Now, who sounds like a partner between the two of us?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled before changing your entire demeanor. Frankly, it was times like this that slightly intimidated Sylus, how money and wealth could easily change your mood. “I mean, thank you so much! I’ll see you in 30?”

He just nodded, amusement clear on his features. “You’ll see me in 30.”

And with that, you grinned, practically jumping in delight before bee-lining towards a protocore which glowed a beautiful pink, near nude, color. You were drawn to it from the very beginning, but didn’t want Sylus to see just how much you wanted it.

You glanced at the glow of your wrist, which was covered up by black lace gloves to avoid suspicion. It flickered softly underneath its cage, so quickly that the pulses between each flicker of light seemingly disappeared. You braced yourself, crossing your arms tightly to ground you to reality. Whenever you’d find a protocore this powerful, its memories, the things it sees, reels you in so hard, you would faint. Sylus had never seen that part of you before, though your first encounter with him was close. 

Well, it happened multiple times after that, too; you weren’t quite sure why. But after a while, it was habitual for you to feel a bit nauseous around Sylus until you would no longer feel it at all. 

This protocore’s pull was faint compared to that, but it made you falter in your footing nevertheless. You shook your head, taking a deep breath before calling one of the servers nearby. “15 million for this.”

His brows furrowed deeply. “But ma’am, this is only worth 100,000—”

“Then your pricing is foolish and incompetent. When I say something is worth 15 million, then I will buy it for 15 million. Do not doubt my decisions.”

The server froze in his place, and you could’ve sworn you saw the hair on his skin stand upright at your cold words. It almost put a smile on your otherwise apathetic face.

He bowed immediately, quickly following your orders. “Yes, ma’am.”

You nodded your head mindlessly, already striding to another pull. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, cold and… nonhuman. A wanderer maybe? No, this felt different. You felt your body stop in its place, your chest heaving as you tried to gasp for breath. Wait, calm down. You could check what this was with your wrist. But wait, how come nothing was popping up? You— You needed to kill the thing behind you; you needed to—

“Are you okay, miss?” A smooth voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you whipped your head at it. You glanced at the man’s hand, which was clearly pulled back. Almost genuine concern covered his entire face, his eyes shining with care. 

You were quiet for a couple seconds before responding. “I-I’m alright, thank you.”

The man gestured one hand out, palm facing up, as if waiting for you. Reluctantly, you gave your left hand, and he slowly brought it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. With your hand still quite close to his face, he stared at the intricate lace design of your gloves, and you felt your stomach flip. “I apologize; I did not mean to startle you. My name is Aries. I’m new here.” He admitted, his voice low enough to send your heart racing. 

You’ve never felt like this before. And it wasn’t romance you were feeling; it was something much more… forced. You held your guard up high, allowing him to treat you like this for longer. He might be a danger. 

So instead, you smiled, eyes locking with his as he stood up properly. “(Name). A pleasure to meet you, Aries. So, what brings you to a place like this?”

Aries sheepishly laughed, clearly nervous about the entire situation. You knew he fancied you, especially with the way his face was beet red. “Ah, my— my uncle encouraged me to go with him, even if I didn’t want to.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up when you finally realized that there was someone just like you here. “Me too!”

He tilted his head, brows scrunching together. “...Your… uncle dragged you here?”

A small stifle of laughter bubbled in your throat before you grinned, shaking your head. “Not my uncle. Just… a friend.”

Sylus’ eyes never left you as you strutted around the auction, most especially when he noticed you conversing with a man he had never seen before. He opened his mouth to ask you a question about him, a bit of basic information perhaps, but he immediately caught his mistake. Right. He was so used to having you by his side that he’d completely forgotten.

“I see you’re eyeing my nephew, Aries.” A man, at least a decade or two older than Sylus, approached him, his voice irritating the leader of Onichynus on the spot. He barely glanced at the shorter male, trying to figure out his name. He usually had you whisper it to him. Ugh, what was his name again? It was French for something… Chaton? Chateau? No, he just called this guy ‘castle’. It was a C- something… 

Ah, Ciel.

“Ciel,” Sylus said, boredness crystal clear in his voice. The older man laughed —a forced “rich” one, at that— before responding. “Ah, and here I thought you forgot my name. Yes, I—”

“What do you want?” Ciel flinched at the bluntness of Sylus’ tone, but answered him nevertheless. “So, what’s the deal? Who’s that pretty little minx you brought today? I’ve never seen you bring a plus one to these events before.”

Sylus’ face scrunched up slightly at Ciel’s words in disgust, but his eyes never left the conversing pair. “And why should I tell you?”

Ciel elbowed Sylus as if they were buddies, making the taller man grunt in distaste. “Oh come on, mate! Though she was so cold to everyone when she entered, she seems too bubbly to have been in the N109 Zone for a long while. Where’d you get her from, hmm?” Sylus’ brows raised slightly when Aries accidentally dropped a pen he somehow had (why the hell did he have a pen at an auction?) and you stopped him from getting it, bending down to pick it up. Your front was right in front of Sylus, which in turn meant right in front of Ciel. 

He whistled, grinning at the view you just accidentally gave him. “Now I see why you keep her around. Come on, Sy, mind letting a dear old friend borrow her for the night—”

“I’ve given you many chances to back off, mate. Too many as it seems.” Sylus’ grip on Ciel’s shoulder surprised him, and with how he winced and let out a small whimper of pain, it seemed as if Sylus was slowly getting angrier each second. “I’m being generous today, since it’s not ideal for me to get scolded as of the moment. But if you ever lay a finger on her in the future, I will make sure you never see the light of day. If she doesn’t beat me to it, that is. Understood?”

He could feel the atmosphere around them chill with Ciel’s fear as he nodded vigorously. “Y-Yes, Sy—

“Try again.”

“Yes, sir.”

—--

You sucked in a breath as you watched Ciel and Sylus converse. The moment you noticed your boss’ eyes on you, they flickered away, towards his holster. When he glanced at you again, you shook your head slowly, and you almost cracked a grin when he huffed. It was barely noticeable, but you knew that look anywhere.

Aries seemed to be looking at them, too. “Yeesh,” he grimaced. “They are not getting along.”

Your head turned to the man you had just met, and your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who?”

“Oh,” Aries nervously grinned, clearly embarrassed and ashamed. Ah, you knew already. “The one on the left, h-he’s my uncle.”

Ciel has a nephew? How come I never knew that? You faked surprise, mouth turning into an “o”. “Oh, that makes more sense. In that case, I think I’ve heard about your uncle before. He does trade in… firearms, correct?” You didn’t want to disclose your relation with Sylus yet; it might backfire on you in the long run.

Aries’ eyes lit up at the mention of “firearms”. “Yes! His newest model was actually one of his best works if I do say so myself. Though I might be a bit biased if I say that because I made the blueprint—” He cut himself off, hand to his mouth. “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

You giggled at his reaction before shaking your head, playfully hitting his arm. “No, it’s fine! So you work with Ciel, then?”

“How do you know his name is Ciel?”

“I know some figures. And your uncle’s pretty famous here.” You saved, internally cursing yourself at the slip up. You glanced at Aries to see if he believed you, and with that smile on his face it seemed as if he did. Thank God.

—--

Sylus could feel his jaw tightening when he saw you practically flirting with that man. He knew how you were towards wealthy people; hell, you were like that to him a week or two after your deal with him. You were hitting that man’s arm playfully for his money. Totally.

But Sylus could give you whatever that man could possibly offer tenfold.

Wait, why did he care again? Right, he didn’t.

With Ciel finally gone, grumbling to himself as he left, Sylus was able to scan what exactly the auction was putting up for sale. Huh, just some gaudy protocores. It seems as if they finally ran out of things to sell.

His eyes went back at you, and his brows raised up in slight curiosity when you eye a protocore. Sylus watched as you walked towards it, and almost staggered on your footing. With furrowed brows, he walked towards you. Whether it was from concern or something else, he wasn’t quite sure. 

“7 million. Wrap it up.” You demanded, exuding an air of sophistication. The air around you was cold, but that was one of the things Sylus liked about you. “Just 7 million? Do you really want people thinking I’m broke around here?”

You tilted your head slightly, though your eyes never left the protocore. After a while, you shook your head. “And do you really want people thinking you don’t know how to strategize your finances? It’s only worth 7 million at max.”

He just shrugged at you. “Alright, then.”

Once you had the two protocores you needed, you took a deep breath. The tug you felt between the two was too much, and you could not extract information from them now. Plus with how weak you were beginning to feel because of having to keep up socially and physically, Sylus’ pull was getting worse by the second.

“What, tired from spending all my money?” Sylus teased, though even with his words, you could feel the soft heat radiating from his palm on the small of your back, aiding you to the car. You laughed humorlessly, not having any more energy after everything that happened today. “This isn’t even a dent in your wallet. And besides, we’ve been here for a couple hours; my social battery is dead.”

Sylus’ chuckle filled your entire brain, and it may be your exhaustion, but it left your cheeks flushed either way. “Speaking of your social life, who was that… man you were talking to?”

Oh, that left you intrigued. You smirked as he opened the door of the car for you, and you raised a brow. “Why, you jealous?” He scoffed as you sat down, and he closed the door, taking his sweet, sweet time to get to the driver’s seat. “What makes you think I’m jealous?” 

You pursed your lips as your boss started the car, tilting your head. “Maybe the fact that you asked?”

He just rolled his eyes at that, lazily removing one hand from the wheel and resting it on your seat to reverse the car. Sylus looked back, giving you a wonderful shot of his side profile. “Well,” oh dear, his voice was close to your ear. Nonchalantly, you turned to look at him. “For your information, I asked because he’s new— I’m going to assume. I hadn’t seen his face until today.”

You huffed, feeling your cheeks flush at his reversing. That’s such a weird thing to get flustered about, you thought to yourself. “Fine, then. His name is Aries, and… I don’t know anything about him.”

At your words, Sylus’ brows knit together in slight confusion and alarm in his face. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? Use your wrist.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, crossing your arms and your legs as he began to drive. “I tried, but I couldn’t. For some reason, there wasn’t any dirt I could pick up on him. Only info I know is because he told me, like how Ciel is his uncle.”

“I knew that.”

“I saw you two speaking. Had a lovely chat?”

He merely grunted as a way of saying, ‘no, what the fuck are you talking about?’ And at that, you giggled. You kept your eyes on the road, though you slowly felt your lids drooping. “Anyway, he seems… intriguing. He works with Ciel in firearms sometimes. Plus, he asked me out.”

… “He asked you out? Where? When?”

“Oh, now you really sound jealous.” You grinned, leaning onto the seat belt so that you could use it as a cradle for your cheek. “I’m not telling you; you’re going to get Mephisto to follow us. He’s cute; I’ll give him a chance. Now,” you over-exaggerated your yawn, stretching slightly in your seat. “If you don’t mind, though I don’t really care if you do, I will sleep. Very tired. Good night.”

Sylus stayed silent for a moment, and just when he was about to respond to you, you were fast asleep the moment he turned to look at you. He shouldn’t be jealous. Er, was this jealousy? Maybe it was overprotection; Sylus was never keen about sharing what was his. And technically, given how you were his right hand woman, you were his. But then again, you going out with someone shouldn’t be his business, especially if said someone could be a valuable asset to Onichynus. But it didn’t make that uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach settle.

—--

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. Are- are you sure I have to do this? She seems like a nice gal.”

“Shush! If we strike a deal with Onichynus, the collaboration would give us so many benefits, my boy! And wouldn’t you like to have a pretty little something by your side at the same time?”

“...I don’t know; I thought she and the leader were—”

“She and the leader are nothing. She’s probably just some whore he took pity on. Now, don’t ever doubt this plan again, okay?”

“...”

“Aries.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

[littlemoonglow]

Warning: Long post?

—

Jason did not expect his ghost form to feel…like this.

(Oh, dealing with his body randomly phasing through the ground and smacking his face onto hard concrete was not fun, but Jason dealt with that just like with every other hurdle in his life. By being more stubborn than the problem itself.)

It felt like something… settled into place. That was the best way he could describe it.

He felt as if spite and anger were finally not the only things keeping him awake and running. 

He felt calm, almost. Stable, at least. Whatever pent up energy that was stuck in his chest cavity now flowed freely throughout his body, redistributed, instinctually easier to manage.

It's almost like he could breathe a little bit easier.

(After much… ranting that Jason decided to ignore for his own sanity, Danny said that his case ectoplasmic corruption was probably due to the fact that Death, as a concept, doesn’t let go of things easily, time shenanigans notwithstanding.)

(Becoming a half-ghost was seemingly the only working compromise.)

—

Danny once told him that broad strokes of a ghost’s personality could be guessed by looking at their physical appearance. 

Despite the cool powers, this was a slight downside. Jason dealing with the filth of the Earth meant that being to hide his emotions and who he is was kind of important. Life saving, even.

He realized later on that his ghost form was way too easy to read.

—

He looked at his arms covered in bandages, and got reminded of the amount of times he had to patch himself up in the last month.

His jacket was ripped in place he knew that would have been sewn together when he was a living breathing human (well, as much as he could be).

He always looked slightly on fire?

(Danny told him it's probably related to his... core?)

(He know he died in an explosion but really?)

And then, there was his… veil? Shroud? Cloak?

It looked really nice.

But on the other hand…

It drooped when he felt under the weather. It flicked and thrashed around when he’s either irritated or barely holding back his urge to headshot someone.

And—

(No Danny, my cloak was not fucking wagging when you brought me fresh ectoplasm last week, you’ll have to get your goddamn eyes checked—)

He'll deny it until the day he dies (a second time).

And then his cloak could sometimes just…grow bigger. He figured that it acted as an extension of his own body, and had a nice add-on of allowing him to sense things he couldn't see. Hell, he could even make a hand out of it (wacking Danny with it - gently - never gets old). Jason had to also admit it looked cool, with the wispy bits and with one of its sides becoming a bright yellow.

(It reminded him a bit of his time as Robin.)

—

Being a ghost had a lotta perks.

Dealing with targets was so much easier when no one could see you. Inflitration was so much simpler when walls became optional. Cameras will glitch out when he's around, he left no traces visible to the naked eye and, combined with his training, to say that it was useful would be an understatement.

But, sometimes, he feels like he’s changing as well the more he transforms. Not drastically, but enough for him to look back and notice.

He usually was someone who prided on being efficient and straight to the point.

But now he’s starting to… have fun.

He started using his claws whenever he could. Don't het him wrong, he still uses his guns plenty, but there was just something deeply satisfying about vaulting over things, scaling a wall or crawling on the ceiling with bare hands. 

(Punching people is still the most satisfying by far, though.)

That one time hunting down the Joker wannabes was fun too.

(Danny said he’d get along great with Skulker? Did Jason want to find out? No.)

Fading in and out of invisibility, he picked them off one by one, watching as panic and dread slowly but surely creeped up on the remaining ones.

(After all, he has no respect for those trying to emulate the dead clown.)

—

(Yeah, the Joker was dead.)

(Surprisingly, that has not been a good day.)

—

One of the favorite things he liked to do was rooftop parkour. The… bendability of gravity is… fun, not gonna lie.

(Not flying though. Jason is used to having feet in regular contact with solid ground, thank you very much. No offense, Danny.)

But he gets why ghosts love to fly. When he’s jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Gotham in the at night, watching the city light fly by, cloak spread behind him, it’s as if nothing else matters. 

(No Joker, no petty criminals to beat up, no avoiding the Bats so they don’t find out about his existence—)

He can just enjoy, even just for a little bit.

—

(Somehow the Demon Brat and Orphan could sense him. Will keep and eyes on those two, and also the more reasons to avoid them.)

(The real problem was the new Bat in town. Bruce, what the fuck, another one? Again?)

(The yellow one, Signal. No time to check his profile yet, but probably a meta or something.)

(First night out and the guy almost managed to actually fucking see him —looked at him straight in the eyes and all, then did a double take. Jason never phased into the pavement so fast in his entire fucking life.)

(And so far no Bats on his cloak tails yet.)

(He did help the guy incognito, just a couple of times.) 

(And he also did steal his escrima sticks for fun, and once the guy went out looking for them, he’d put them right back where they were.)

(Turns out, he discovered later, that being a little shit runs in the ghost community.)

—

(Sometimes he also wonders what happened to Danny before they met.)

(He wasn't a Gothamite, that was obvious. He doesn’t pry, but it doesn’t take a lot to piece two and two together.)

(He just wonders who he has to kill this time.)

—

(Jason could not believe he forgot and underestimated just how fucking persistent every single one of the Bats could be. Of course it had to run in the family.)

He gazed down, thought the agony, at the gaping wound under his right armpit.

(The Bats have been chasing him relentlessly for a while now. He got more injuries than he can count, especially from Bruce.)

(They know. Oh, they know.)

(It didn’t go well.)

(He knows the others are there surrounding him to prevent him from escaping, he knows that Dick is right behind him, but at the moment he couldn’t care less.)

It has been a long time since the last time he got shot.

(It felt like someone set his right side on fire.) 

What was flowing out in abundance was a neon, toxic green.

(The Pit Waters, ectoplasm, he didn’t even know that he could fucking bleed in ghost form—)

(Danny—)

He looked back up at Batman, holding a (frankly) ugly gun, white casing and highlights in the same shade of toxic green. 

(A gun that Danny warned him about. And everything behind it.)

Jason felt something in him... snap.

(Why did it have to be you, Bruce.) 

His mouth opened—

(waitsincewhenhecoulddothatthroughtthe mask—) 

(Jason could see the billows of neon green smoke—)

(He couldn’t see Bruce’s expression.)

(Every. Single. Goddamn. Time.)

— and wailed.

---------------------------------------------------

I am genuinely delighted that my last post got that much attention! Thank you so much, to all who liked, rebblogged and commented, it really does mean the most. 💕

This AU may be continued? No guarantees, tho.

For those interested: Part 01

@fandomnerd103 @phoenixdemonqueen @satisfactionbroughtmeback @ascetic-orange @apointlessbox @bathildaburp @fisticuffsatapplebees @aisforanonymity @phandomhyperfixationblog @help-i-need-a-cool-username @hashtagdrivebywrites @did-i-miss-anyone-tagging-is-a-monk's-job-first-time-doing-this-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[luna0713hunter]

I'd die for you

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : when Zoro is injured by Hawk Eyes,you cant help but to worry about him.

Warnings : none really, basically hurt/comfort,mentions of injuries and fear of losing the person you love aka Zoro, bickering couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"Wow," Sanji breaths, "Just,wow..."

You let out a whine and hide your face in your hands.

"Sanjiiii," you take hold of the cook's sleeve and shake him as hard as you can (which isnt much), "what should i do?! there's no way Zoro would actually like this!!!"

"I dont know," the blonde takes a spoonful of the soup you've made,which was oddly....black, "that blockhead should be thrilled that you put so much effort in making this for him!!"

You sniff,watching as Sanji swallows and school his expression,but not before his face paling slightly, "it just...has a little too much salt. And pepper...and.." when his eyes land on your defeated expression,Sanji smiles brightly again but it seems a little forced "and its absolutely delicious!!!i cant see how he cant possibly love this!"

"you're just saying that to make me feel better. You dont have to pretend,Sanji."

The cook gives you a charming smile and starts cleaning the kitchen, "if a man can't appreciate his woman cooking for him,then he doesn't deserve to taste it. So,y/n," he turns around from washing the dishes and smiles warmly at you, "don't be nervous. And remember you can always learn from your mistakes."

You smile back,and take hold of the bowl and walk our of the kitchen;a small skip to your steps.

"I'm going!!"

"Good luck with him!"

You giggle as you try to rush to where Zoro is; resting in his bedroom after you specifically asked him to rest.

It hasn't been long since he got injured by Hawk Eyes, and as much as he didnt want to admit those scars needed time to fully heal. And with him running around and fighting everyone in sight,it wasnt easy to actually make him rest. So after a small argument with him and some help from Sanji,you managed to cook something for him. The cook had mentioned that the herbs in the soup would heal him faster,but judging from how dark the food looked like,you may or may have not overcooked it. Only a little.

As you reach his room, you take a steady breath to calm yourself before knocking gently on the door.

"If its about your damn cooking or personal space again,i couldn't care less Sanji."

"Zoro,its me."

When the other side goes silent,you cant help but to roll your eyes playfully and grin. Sanji and Zoro couldn't get along for the life them and it never ceases to amuse you.

"...come in."

You take another breath as you finally open the door.

Zoro is,to your delight, actually resting on his hammock. His arms are folded behind his head as he stares at you when you walk through the door. The room is mostly dark,since he has a habit of drawing the curtains whenever Sanji is not around to nag at him. Your eyes momentarily traces the shape of the bandages under his shirt,before clearing your throat and moving to his side.

"i hope you're hungry. Sanji helped me cook this for you."

Zoro eyes the bowl in your hands,but doesn't move from where he's laying

"its not poisoned,is it?"

"i was cooking,what do you think?"

Zoro purse his lips and doesn't reply. You visibly gape at him and stump your foot angrily

"I'm not that bad at cooking!!"

"i didnt even say anything."

"your face says all i need to know!!" You huff and turn around, "maybe i should just give this to Luffy! I'm sure he would appreciate it,unlike someone."

You dont even have time to take another step before there are arms around your waist,not hard that you spill the soup,but enough to stop you from leaving.

"...give it here."

You dont turn around,but your lips twitch; Zoro could never say no to you.

"And why would i?"

"...cause I'm hungry and it smells...really good."

And when you finally turn around,you lift an eyebrow unamused.

"was that pause really necessary?"

"just give me the damn bowl."

You try really hard to hide your teasing grin,but judging from the scowl Zoro's wearing, you're not very successful at it.

You wait impatiently as Zoro blows the soup (which is totally unnecessary since its already lukewarm) and swallows a spoonful. You fidget with your fingers, tilting your head to side and looking at the man in front of you nervously.

"so?how is it?"

Zoro takes a moment before looking up at you.

"it's the best soup I've ever had."

There's a moment of silence where you just stare at the man in front you. He looks serious;no sign of his teasing grin or eye rolls. And when he sees you not responding,he just goes back to eating your black, burned soup.

Your eyes water and you try to muffle your sob.

At the sound, Zoro's head immediately snaps up,his eyes widening when they land on your crumbled form. He jumps to his feet and takes hold of your shoulders,caresses your cheek and wipes the tears away so gently that it has you crying harder.

"hey,hey. why are you crying?"

You shake your head and hide your face in his chest.

"i almost lost you Zoro..."

"but I'm-"

"you're not fine!!" You sob,and raise your face so you can watch his own twist into a frown as he watches your tears increase, "you almost died!! If it weren't for Zeff's help,you would've bled to death!i cant get the image of that sword slashing your chest out of my head!heck,i cant sleep without thinking of you dying in front of me Zoro!"

When you finally finish your little rant,your face is flushed and your breathing is uneven. Your mind wonders off to that cursed moment again,when a hand on your cheek pulls you back to your senses.

"breath," Zoro murmurs, "breath,babe. Its alright. Im fine;more than fine."

He rests his forehead against yours and puts your hand on his chest. Where you could feel his heart beating.

Alive and safe

"see?" He presses his lips to your heated skin and his hold on you tightens, "and, I'm getting so much better already with your magical soup."

At that,you let out a wet giggle and look up at him, sniffing, "really?"

"really."

And when he slowly steps back until he's laying on his hammock again,with your ear pressed against his beating heart,and the empty bowl of the soup on the floor;you feel your eyes slowly flutter shut.

"Sleep,love. I'll be right here when you wake up."

[literatooru]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧!

pairing: gn!reader x nanami kento

note: this is pt. 2 and my apology oops! part 1 is in my masterlist!

It’s October 31st, just a couple minutes after midnight. Any other Halloween night you’d be hanging around the door, waiting for the stampede of overly excited children with goofy costumes to swarm it in hopes to receive some candy.

Tonight, however, the muted sound of hesitant knuckles tapping against the wooden surface makes you jolt awake. At first, you think you must’ve dreamt it. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep—you’re waiting. Whether it’s bad news or good ones you’re in for, you’re not entirely sure. Despite reassuring yourself over and over again that Kento would be fine (he isn’t a grade 1 sorcerer by chance, after all) you can’t help the nagging knot in your gut that only seems to be growing tighter. The first bad omen of the night is the actually the knocking; Kento would just use his key. You’re sure it must be Ijichi and if that’s the case, then it can only mean bad news.

You rise from the couch as you release a slow, shaky breath in a failed attempt to steady your heartbeat. Its pace only increases with each step that takes you closer to the door and by the time you come to a stop in front of it and reach out to put the key in, your entire body is trembling. It takes you a couple tries to finally unlock the it, lips pressed to form a tight line.

A shaky breath escapes you when you open the door and your eyes meet his.

“Kento,” you breathe out. The anxiety that had you in a chokehold finds release in the shape of tears that roll freely down your cheeks. 

Nanami makes an effort to give a you smile. The corners of his lips struggle to quirk up and it’s a little wobbly, but it’s there. He’s there.

“Hey,” he whispers. His voice, just like his smile, is pretty weak. The initial shock of seeing him in front of you is slowly wearing off and you take your time to inspect him. His left hand is completely wrapped up in bandages—not a single inch of skin is visible under them, and the left half of his head is hidden from view as well. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was—”

“You’re alive,” you cry. 

“I am. I’m here.”

Your arms seem to have a mind of their own as they wrap around his torso, your face automatically nuzzling against the warmth of his chest, this time full-on sobbing into his shirt. Kento lets out a pained groan, but before you can pull away to apologize for being too brusque, his arms snake around your frame and hold you as tight as they can; pain be damned. His right hand, the one that’s not bandaged, cradles the nape of your neck gently. Kento lowers his head and takes a trembling breath, his body relaxing when his nostrils are flooded with your familiar and comforting scent. He’s back. He’s alive. And you’re still here.

You don’t know how much time you spend in each other’s arms but it doesn’t seem long enough—it never is. However, you figure the pain must be really bad, because his hands move with considerable urgency when he tries to pull away from the embrace.

“I’m sorry, did I—” you hesitate. Nanami grimaces, his movements deliberately slow so as to not make any wound feel worse than they already do while he takes his hand to his back pocket. “What? What do you need, what are you…?” The rest of your sentence dies down in your throat as a frown slowly makes its way onto your face. “Kento?”

“Do you remember what we talked about the other night?” he asks quietly.

To say that you’re puzzled is an understatement. You’re a little too preoccupied with the state of him to think about something you said some nights ago. In response, you simply blink.

“When I said I would like to switch the stairs for a slide? Because I was kidding about that, I didn’t—” your words halt when he chuckles, the action ripping another pained grimace from him. “Hey.”

“I’m okay,” he murmurs. Yes, he’s in incredible pain even after all the treatment, but there’s something immensely soothing about your presence that always makes anything bearable. “But no, I’m not talking about the… ridiculous slide idea,” he says. His brow pinches when he takes his hand out of his pocket, empty. He tries the other one. “I meant…” And then his frown melts into a small smile when his fingertips come into contact with his target. He pinches it between his fingers before retrieving his hand and presenting his opened palm to you. Right there in the center lies a ring. “This.”

Mouth agape and eyes even more watery than before, you stare at the piece of jewelry before your eyes dart up to meet his. 

“Kento,” you mumble. Your hand is tentative when it rises, index finger stretched out to touch the metal, warmed up due to his corporal heat. “Are you serious?”

Nanami gives what you assume is a scoff.

“Am I ever not?”

He smiles when you chuckle. Of course he’s serious. He’s wanted nothing more pretty much since he laid eyes on you. There would be no greater honor than spending the rest of his life with you. If he hadn’t been clear enough the other night when you two talked about it, maybe this would finally get it into your head.

“Well.” You extend all of your fingers straight, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as his still unsteady fingers clasp the ring before carefully sliding it onto your finger. 

“There. Looks right at home.”

“Feels right at home,” you say with a smile. You cup his right cheek with tenderness, standing on your tiptoes to plant a sweet peck on his skin. He seems a little disappointed that that’s all he gets but he understands; he can’t exactly exert himself after tonight’s events. “For the record, you look as dashing as ever.”

Another scoff from him, another giggle from you.

Nanami finally steps in and pushes the door closed with the ball of his heel. You tilt your head in confusion when he opens the palm of his hand in front of you and stares at you with a raised eyebrows.

“Keys,” he clarifies.

You press your lips together to suppress a smile.

“What happened to yours?”

“…I lost them,” he begrudgingly admits.

You can’t stop yourself from laughing this time. Reproach is clear on Nanami’s face, but there’s something underlying as well. Complete and absolute infatuation with you. 

“Wow, Nanamin!”

“Stop,” he says with a quiet chuckle.

“That is awfully irresponsible of you!”

“Well, they sort of got charred so I didn’t technically lose them,” he retorts, interlocking his fingers with yours and giving your hand a squeeze before leading you further into the house. 

Really, he’s never felt more at home.

[jillgirlfriends]

my ghostface doll

dom!mean!ethan landry x ghostface!fem!reader

ethan accidentally finds finds your robe, mask and knife and realizes that you are a killer, but he has his own plans for you.

warnin: ethan teases a lot, bandage, use vibrator, using panties as a gag, smut

you had to leave urgently on your "business" your father will be furious if you fail the task he gave you. you hastily searched your things in the closet but couldn't find them. you put your things away safely and hid them in a box behind your clothes. but when you open the box.. it was empty

«Isn't this what you're looking for, baby?» - what you didn't want until the very end. ethan's sweet whisper reached your ear, he held your mask in his hand and with his other hand gently hugged your waist pulling you closer to him. ethan was now.. somehow different, mocking.

«th-this is.. not what you think..» - you tried to justify yourself, but ethan immediately interrupted you and did not let you say a word. his breath blew on your neck, and.. he smiled so sweetly and closed his eyes

«no, that's what I think.. honey» - ethan was so calm now, his hand that was holding your waist moved to the strap of your dress and began to slowly pull the dress itself off your shoulder

he dropped the mask and started pulling your dress down with both hands. what was he up to? goosebumps ran across your skin and you felt awkward.. you couldn't say a single word

when ethan took off your dress completely, he grabbed something from the table and you heard a very familiar sound.. it was scotch tape, and ethan began to glue your hands so that they were behind your back and then he threw your body on the bed, not caring about your comfort. you were confused, but began to think a little and understand what he wanted to do to you

did you see ethan take out that box under the bed.. the box with all your toys

«hmm.. which one should I use today? you turned out to be such a bad girl, and I believed you all the time..» - ethan was looking through all the toys in the box. he was teasing you a lot now. you were on edge and felt that very pleasant feeling.

«I'm using this today» - ethan took the vibrator out of the box and showed it to you, the same big vibrator that makes you feel pain and pleasure at the same time. ethan had a cold and mocking smile on his face, and his eyes were so dark..

he started to slowly crawl towards you, and his eyes were fixed on your underwear that was bothering him. he easily took it off your bra, and left your breasts open for him. only your panties remained, and he began to slowly pull them down your hips and finally exposed that sweet part that he loves so much.

ethan began to run his fingers over your pussy to make it even wet. oh.. how ethan loved to tease you like this, he rubbed your pussy mercilessly and your moans were like music to him. finally, having achieved the desired effect, ethan began to insert the vibrator into your wet pussy. Inch by inch, he didn't care that it hurt you and he inserted the vibrator so deep that the vibrator itself was not visible.

grabbing the remote control, ethan turned the vibrator on medium power and your eyes widened and your body shook from the stimulation. ethan grabbed your panties and shoved them in your mouth using them as a gag. your chest rose and fell, small tears flowed from your eyes. and ethan.. he enjoyed this whole performance, and watched it all without any embarrassment and each time pushed the vibrator deeper and deeper. your boyfriend has a perverted mind..

«how does it feel, slut? to be humiliated and put on display for me, be glad that others don't see what a slut you really are. you drip so much..» - ethan said with a wide and perverted smile, increasing the power of the vibrator. your back arched from the increased power and your body started shaking harder.. it didn't help that he pushed the vibrator harder into your pussy

ethan just smirked at this and grabbed your ghostface mask

«wow.. my girlfriend is a killer, and I trusted her all the time..» - he looked looked at the whole mask, and with his other hand he held your thigh so that you did not close your legs and did not hide your whole view for him

«consider this a kind of punishment, you will hold this vibrator for as long as I want» - ethan said with a mocking smile, continuing to hold your thigh tightly and leaving marks on it

«you know, it's nice to fuck a killer..»

[love-anddeepression]

Father mine. Miguel O’Hara x teen!Spider!reader

Hope you like this :D it’s sad asf.

Warnings: mommy issues backstory, feelings of inadequacy, wanting to feel pain. Angst.

Miguel’s body shields over yours as Miles breaks through the force field and causes everyone to fly backwards. Your leg bends in an unnatural way and you resist the urge to cry out.

He holds you to him and does a once over of your form. You nod at him, not wanting to worry him and he looks to Miles.

You can see the exact moment where the rope finally breaks and he chases after the boy.

Your cries fall on deaf ears as you run behind him. Your legs screams with ever step and you’re forced to stop and look helplessly as he calls every spider and alerts them.

Soon enough there’s a hole broken in one of the windows as Miles jumps and Miguel follows. Every other spider jumping after the both of them like blind followers.

You join them, because you would follow Miguel to the death.

You try to focus all the power into your arms and your good leg but it’s fucking hard because you’re climbing the spaceship that Miles has somehow traversed.

In front of you, is every other spider that is a part of the society, and each of them is almost climbing on top of the others like mindless zombies that crave flesh.

Your spider sense tingles and you duck just in time for Miguel to fall past you and hang on to the spaceship with his claws.

You Web him and he looks at you gratefully.

“Gracias, Mija.” He grunts, his eyes glowing red.

You don’t answer. His hair is disheveled and he looks he’s been electrocuted or some shit, his fangs are bared and he snarles as he looks above you, “let me go now, and go back to the fucking tower.”

You scowl, “why should I?”

He tears through the webs, “because I said so, I’m already pissed off at two teenagers, don’t make me even worse.” He seethes and your lips form a thin line under your mask.

Suddenly, you’re eight years old trying to convince your mother to talk to you when she’s giving you the silent treatment and you have to gulp to try to keep your whimper of pain inside. You’re not a burden, you think, as he shakes his head and jumps past you.

something in you screams to go back, to listen to him. For once to listen to him, not just because you’re afraid he won’t love you anymore if you don’t but, call it spider sense pro, it helps predict the future so you listen to it.

You reluctantly jump out of the force field and swing. You can see the hole in the broken window and the jagged edges that form it. They resemble your heart and you clench your jaw and zoom through, tucking your legs inwards and crouching into a roll to minimise impact. The pain is still there when you hit the ground, but you wish it was harder.

You deserve to hurt right now. You deserve the pain in your leg and the pain in your heart because you’re not a good kid.

A groan leaves your lips as your spider sense tells you to go to where the go home machine is.

You run to the area and see spider byte and lyla walking around in a panicked frenzy.

“What the hell is going on?” You say out loud and they turn to look at you.

“Your dad is being a horrible person.” Spider-Byte scowls.

You look at Lyla and she doesn’t meet your eyes, only turning back to look at the monitors.

You squint and look at the go-home machine.

Miles. Invisible Miles.

You know why Miguel is mad, you know the risk that Miles brings, because you’ve seen first hand how a universe is destroyed. Your own was.

But Miles is a kid. He’s like you, wanting to save his dad. Just like you’re trying to help yours.

You can feel his panic and his anger and his hurt.

He turns visible at the last second and you meet his eyes as everyone storms in. Your own dad leading the party as the go-home machine starts to operate.

And then you look at the man who is your father. The man who has fed you and bandaged you and smiled at your jokes. The man who has been there with you through so much.

You watch as he shouts and tries to break the barrier. You see Peter’s horror. You watch as he pries open the field just the slightest. You see him try and kill a kid. A kid like you.

And your eyes fill with tears because this man is a monster.

By some dumb luck, Miles is able to escape and Miguel stands defeated. The go-home machine Scans him and he breaks it like it’s nothing. You flinch.

You watch as he turns and walks amidst everyone like nothing has happened. You watch as he dishes out orders as if he hasn’t just tried to take the life of a child. You watch him threaten Gwen, and you watch as he sends her to her universe. Ignoring her cries because to him, she’s an inconvenience.

Is that what you are? Now that you’re not on his side anymore?

He opens a portal and Jessica and another Peter you don’t give a shit about walk through. His eyes meet yours as his mask materialises over his face. You know he expects you to follow him, even if he tells you to stay. So he doesn’t bother and walks in.

You don’t follow.

Because this man, this cold, unflinching monster of a man is not your father.

Part 2 here

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 65

“Oh what the fuck-” It was supposed to be a quiet night- no breakouts in Arkham and for once the asylum is actually full of most of their rogues. And the others were already taking care of Scarecrow and Penguin was- as far as he knew- doing legal things at the lounge at the time. So somebody tell him why there’s this giant… thing that could give Grundy a run for his money in should be dead a thousand times over was pulling itself out of a sewer tunnel. Like seriously, he can see the blood and infection and whatever else dripping from honestly filthy bandages all on its arms that look a hint too long the more he looks through the binoculars, and it’s glowing this sickly green that reminds him way too much like the Pits. That isn’t even getting started on the mouth- the only part visible of their face due to the wild mane of what might be white hair but was hard to tell under the amount of blood- that stretched far too wide. He even swore he could see fangs! Not to mention the cloak that he wants to say is a knockoff of B’s, but honestly he can swear he sees it moving, twisting like lashing tails of shadow, or like Ivy’s vines. Its hands are long and gnarled, tipped in claws that dig into the concrete as it pushes itself to a frankly horrifying height. And oh fuck, not only did it have some sort of giant sword, but there was a small child sitting on its shoulder without any sign of realizing the danger they were in-

Danny is having fun, his ghost-mom Amity is out on a date with another city spirit, Mr Bludhaven- so he gets to hang out with grandma? grandpa? (honestly who has time for gender when there’s curses to beat back!) Gotham! It would perhaps be better if he wasn’t unknowingly making said city spirit visible to those who aren’t death-touched or liminal… Oh well! 

[oceaneyesinla]

17. "I hope you know that I'll never leave your side, even though you ate half of my pancakes earlier." "Hmm, I won't either, even though you take my clothes and never return them." with Bakugou please 💖

Em, thank you so much for sending in a request my sweet!!!!! i hope you enjoy <3

Part of my Fluff, Fluff and More Fluff Event - submissions still open!

Prompt 17: "I hope you know that I'll never leave your side, even though you ate half of my pancakes earlier." "Hmm, I won't either, even though you take my clothes and never return them."

Bakugo x gn!Reader, nickname 'sweetness' used, reader and Bakugo in their twenties

Divider by @/adornedwithlight

Promise for a Promise

Ow.

That’s your first conscious thought; the pain radiating through your abdomen. It’s more of a dull ache than anything, probably due to the painkillers you’re almost certain you’ve been given. You can feel their effect; you feel a little spaced out, and more than a little sleepy. There’s a warm hand in yours, though, so you force your eyes open. The palm resting on top of your hand is ever so slightly rough, and when you turn yours over and let your thumb drift gently over the knuckles, you feel that familiar scar.

Your lips are creeping up even before your eyes are open, and your smile only gets wider when you manage to focus on blonde hair and crimson eyes. Drugged as you are, it takes you a moment to process what you’re seeing, but when your brain catches up, your smile slips to a worried frown.

“Katsuki, you’re hurt! Are you okay?” There’s a bandage on his left cheek, and from the way he’s holding himself, you can tell he’s in pain; probably from some injury underneath the hoodie he’s wearing - one of your merch hoodies. The one you bought him as a joke but which quickly became his favourite thing to wear. 

The relief that was clear on his face when you opened your eyes morphs to incredulous rage, “You’re the one in a hospital bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay?! Dumbass!”

Back in high school, you would have believed his little outburst came from genuine anger, and you would have taken his reaction at face value. Now, you know better. You know every line on his face and every detail of his expression, and you would know his voice in a room of thousands. You can read him like a book, just like he can you.

Sliding your hand out of his, you reach up to cradle the cheek not covered in gauze. Your poor Katsuki - he must have been terrified. You can only remember flashes of the events that led to you being in this bed, but you’re certain Katsuki saw everything. The way he lets his face rest against your hand, and the fact he’s wearing that particular hoodie despite it being summer and plenty warm enough speaks volumes.

He visibly relaxes under your touch, shoulders slumping and a sigh escaping him. He meets your eyes, and you’re surprised to see the beginnings of tears welling on his lash line.

“You scared me, sweetness.” His hand comes up to cover your own, “Took Icy Hot twenty minutes to get to you.” A pause, a swallow, a single tear slipping down his cheek and landing on your finger, “Really thought I lost you there.”

Part of you wants to apologise; for getting hurt, for worrying him, but you know there’s no need. You both know the risks of being pro heroes, and you both accepted it a long time ago. This is the life you’ve chosen - all you can do is fight to come home to each other.

Instead, you decided to meet his vulnerability with reassurance. Wiping the tear track away with your thumb, you speak softly, “I hope you know I’ll never leave your side,” You can’t help the mischievous smile turning up your lips, “Even though you ate half of my pancakes earlier.”

The mix of comfort and humour works - a burst of laughter leaves him, and his eyes look a little brighter as he rolls them at your dramatics. You’re exaggerating a little - it was more like two, and it wasn’t so much stealing as it was you being too full to finish them off and sliding them onto his plate with your most charming smile. Potato, potahto - what matters is that Katsuki looks a little less haunted than he did a couple of minutes ago.

He sobers after a minute, though he’s still watching you with a soft smile. He wraps his hand around yours, lifting it to his lips so he can press a kiss to your knuckles, “I won’t either,” A promise for a promise, and your chest aches with the love you feel for him, “Even though you take my clothes and never return them.”It’s your turn to laugh now, and you don’t mind even when it aggravates whatever wounds you have. You launch your self-defense - you share a wardrobe, so technically you are returning them - and you fall back into your familiar rhythm. You’re both going to be okay, and you’ll both keep fighting to stay at each other’s side.