#left with the cold black hole stealing away all of that light away

[beastwars-transformers]

Have I mentioned how much I love stars and their entire existence blows my mind

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT3 | pt2 | pt1 |

apparently simon wasn't the only one who loved your scent.

other males had been trespassing on his territory, coming dangerously close to his den. to you.

simon tried to make his scent more pronounced. to keep them away. to keep his bunny safe.

fortunately, so far, no one had been brave enough, to deliberately come after you. and simon thought that nobody would be.

until that day.

simon had left for water that evening. he wouldn't have been gone for long. it was always risky to leave you alone, without his protection. but simon promised to be quick.

unfortunately, that was enough time for him.

you shouldn't have been so naïve. so stupid. you should've stayed vigilant. but you were just cleaning the den. you didn't feel threatened. you felt safe.

heavy thumps on top of the den. that's what you heard first. you looked up, a little bit of dirt fell down from the den ceiling, and dropped on your head. it must be simon. it has to be. right?

but then. there was slow struggling at the den's entrance. you couldn't see it, it was behind a curve. but you could hear it. simon didn't have to struggle to get inside. it was his den after all, it was just big enough, to let him inside.

maybe he was just struggling with the water. yeah. it's simon, you tried to reassure yourself.

"s-simon...?" your voice was meek, scared, unsure. you've stopped messing with the nest, now only focused on the noises coming from the den's entrance.

the obvious struggles at the entrance stopped.

why? simon would give you an answer, wouldn't he?

the weather was beautiful. there was only few clouds covering the blue sky. the sun glared down, hot and bright. it made the snowbanks sparkle beautifully.

the hot light made the snow melt away, uncovering calm, small rapid. the clear water ran over the rocks underneath it's surface. only more and more snow kept melting into the water, small droplets falling down from the melting ice, and snow.

simon knelt by the river. filling a carved, wooden bucket, with the cold, refreshing water.

he had to keep himself, and the bunny hydrated, after all.

the bucket filled pretty quickly, and simon was ready to head back to the den.

the snow crunched under his steps. simons hot breath came out as steam, as it hit the cold air. frost was starting to form on the tips of his hair.

the wolf's movements stilled, as smell hit his nose. a musk. another male.

simon dropped the water filled bucket, and began to run. you were alone. hopefully you were alone.

but he wasn't there to protect you. oh, god.

panic flared inside simon, his heart beating out of his chest.

the den was just a rocks throw away from the river. simon was quickly there. that didn't calm him down. somebody was kneeling at the den's entrance, trying to dig in. trying to get to his bunny.

simon panted heavily as he approached. the trespasser heard him coming. with a smirk on his face, the intruder turned around, to look at simon. simon's hands clenched into fists, his skin turning white.

he gritted his teeth. "mace." the wolfs voice resembled a growl.

here this bear was, trying to steal his bun. simon knew him, a territorial rival. and now he was attempting to take his fucking mate. his mate. his.

the black bear chuckled darkly, as he stood up.

"can smell her... you're hiding a sweet thing in there..."

"time for you to go, mace." simon grumbled.

mace grinned. "i'll leave you be, for now."

he walked down from the den's entrance, towards simon.

"might wanna keep her in there. never know when she's going to get snatched up."

mace's shoulder knocked against simon's, when he walked past him.

simon was fuming. his whole body moved, as he took heavy breaths.

the wolf listened, until the sound of footsteps faded away, before rushing to the mouth of the den.

"bun? come here." he called out, into the tunnel.

he had to wait a moment, before he saw your head sticking out of the hole.

simon sighed. "come here..." he signaled for you to come closer with his hand. slowly, and hesitantly, you crawled to the entrance of the den, where he was waiting for you.

"you okay, bun?" simon mumbled, his hand gently holding your cheek. after a meek nod of your head, simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

simon leaned away, and gently guided you back down into the den, following suite after you. once you were down in the nest, simon made sure to hold you tight against his chest.

"you know that I would never let anything happen to you. you know that, don't you, bunny?" the wolf murmured into your ear, his free hand slowly making it's way down your stomach.

"what can i do to calm you down, huh? you're still shaking." his hot breath hitting your ear. simon was being sneaky. before you even knew it, his calloused fingers, pinched your nub.

he chuckled at the squeal you let out. his fingers began to gently massage your little clit.

"i'll never let that happen again. okay?" his voice got more serious, and his touch harder. your legs kicked out at the increasing pressure on your sensitive clit.

his touch didn't relent. it only got more determined.

determined to distract you from the scary situation, you had to go through.

determined to make you feel good.

the feeling was foreign. his touch was so tough, just like him. but his words were so sweet. the pressure in your belly grew. your breathing got heavier. simon noticed. with a wicked smirk on his face, his movements got faster.

"give it to me. c'mon bunny... i know you want to." he so meanly teased.

it just suddenly hit you. your legs tensed up, and your breath hitched. luckily, simon decided to show you mercy. he helped you get down from your bliss, before pulling his hand from in between your sweet thighs. your juices coated his fingers. simon grinned at the sight.

the bunny was now completely limp in his arms, panting and exhausted. simon wiped his dirty fingers against the fur on your stomach. simon's hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

"go to sleep, bunny..." he murmured quietly, laying you against his side. his arms rested around you, in a protective hold. he couldn't even imagine how scary it must've been for you, being trapped down here, with no way out, while somebody was trying to crawl inside.

but just as he promised, simon would never let it happen again.

authors note: that poor bucket, alone in the cold forest :(

heart divider by @roseschoices

taglist (honestly i'm pretty lost who's on it and who isn't😭):

@famouscattale @nappingmoon @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @distinguishedprincesstrash @yourfavreggie @rorowingaboat @limeleag @sushiumex @aldis-nuts (won't find it sorry) @the-palelady

COMMENT TO GET ON THIS TAGLIST 😠

[juleswritesstuff]

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n” 

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed.  You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. 

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them” 

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you. 

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others. 

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected. 

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you. 

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all. 

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know” 

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic. 

Just like him.

“So why now ?” 

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then” 

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?” 

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to maintain your mental sanity then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue. And it’s not a question.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective” 

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash. 

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again. 

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire. 

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even. 

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied. 

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows. 

He knows. 

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him. 

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity. 

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes. 

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n” 

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you. 

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake. 

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy. 

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore. 

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddlle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry. 

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?” 

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his. 

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one” 

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment. 

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

[envysparkler]

Jason tucked himself deeper into his hoodie and tried not to shiver.  His fingers were numb around the tire iron, more from panic than the chill in the air, and he felt like he was being turned to ice, inch by painful inch.

He could still see the cold look on Johnny Six-Fingers’ face, the reek of tobacco, the ultimatum ringing through the air and echoing inside his head.

Jason had a debt to pay, and Six-Fingers had gotten tired of waiting.  Jason had one night to scrounge up two grand in cash, or he’d have to pay it off the usual way.  By standing on street corners.

Six-Fingers didn’t care that Jason was only twelve and didn’t have any way to get a real job.  He didn’t care that the money had all been funneled into the black hole of Jason’s mother’s hospital expenses.  He didn’t care that the money hadn’t even worked, that Jason’s mom had died, wasting away with every breath, and Jason was left with no parents, no home, and a debt to one of Crime Alley’s most infamous money-lenders and pimps.

He didn’t care that there was no way Jason could scramble together two grand in cash in one fucking night.

The wind was biting on his cheeks and Jason took a few deep breaths as his eyes prickled.  No.  No.  There—there had to be a way.  Jason wasn’t going to become a whore.  He’d find the two grand—he’d steal it if he had to, he wouldn’t become one of the empty-eyed men and women standing on the streets, lighting up to detach themselves from reality.

But it was late.  Very late.  No one was out on the streets this late at night, not when the Batman lurked.  Most people in Gotham had better sense than to get in the way of a prowling nightmare of darkness and claws, lest they end up as another bloody body in a gutter.

Jason unfortunately had to sacrifice sense for speed.  The one skill he was very good at was jacking tires, and they didn’t sell for much, but if he found a really good score, he could maybe bargain with Tony at the shop to get the two grand.  He’d owe Tony then, but the mechanic would let him pay it off by working at the shop.

It was a horrible plan.  It relied on Jason basically stumbling upon a pot of gold, and avoiding Gotham’s most infamous murderer while he was at it.  Jason was usually careful to jack tires during the day—if Batman ever caught him, Jason would be seeing his own insides.

At the moment, it was a risk he was willing to take.

It was going to be fine.  Everything was going to be fine.  He was going to find some tires, sell them, get Six-Fingers his money, and then maybe his mom would come back to life and tuck him into bed.  Jason exhaled harshly and tightened his fingers on the tire iron.

He needed to get the cash.

Crime Alley was quiet.  The pubs had closed an hour ago, which left no one on the streets.  There weren’t many cars here, and none of them had tires that would sell for more than a hundred bucks.  Jason was consciously aware of his heart pounding in his ears, like a ticking clock counting down his fate.

Tick tock.

He had to find something.

Tick tock.

He wouldn’t become a whore.  He wouldn’t.

Tick tock.

Please—he had to find something, please—

Tick tock.

He wanted his mom.  He wanted his dad.  He wanted someone, anyone, to tell him it was going to be okay.

Tick tock.

He wanted to find a car that was gleaming and dark and all tricked-up, with massive tires and novelty rims, and—oh shit, that was the Batmobile.

Fuck.  Everyone knew of Batman’s tank of a car, how easily he evaded police and gangs and everyone, blasting through Gotham like he owned the goddamn city.  And given that no one had been able to stop him even once in the last decade, he probably did.

Jason had already turned to flee before his mind caught up to his legs and reminded him that he hadn’t done anything illegal.  Yet.  Running would be suspicious.

He let himself casually ogle the car as he took inching steps backwards, his heart pounding so loud he was surprised it wasn’t echoing in the alley.  Every fraction of his attention was focused on listening for a whisper of a cape, or perhaps the hiss of claws scything through air, his tire iron clutched firmly to his chest.  He was going to get out of the alley calmly and carefully, and—and if Batman was prowling around Crime Alley, Jason’s chances of getting that two grand had just vanished, and he didn’t want to go back to Six Fingers, and—

Those…were nice tires.  Fancy tires.  The kind of tires that would totally be worth two grand.  No sane person would want anything to do with Batman’s tires, but Tony did work for the Families too, and some of them could be interested in trophies.

If Jason actually managed to get the tires off without being murdered or having a heart attack.

He didn’t want to.  He desperately didn’t want to.  But the choice was between Batman and Six-Fingers, and Batman wasn’t here.

“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, his fingers twisting on the tire iron.  Steady and careful.  Silent and quick.  “You have to do this.”

Jason checked one last time for shining claws and white eyes in the darkness, and got to work.

~#~

The combination of fear, dread, and panic helped Jason work faster than he ever had in his life.  He unscrewed the bolts, kicked the tires off, and rolled them to the next alley to hide them below a stack of cardboard.  It was going to be tricky to get them all the way to Tony’s shop, but first Jason had to get them off.  The minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, as his fingers grew clammier and his breaths grew shorter.

The world had narrowed down to his numb fingers, the bolts, the tires, and his distressingly loud heartbeat.

Jason, working away at the third tire, didn’t realize he had company until he heard the low growl, right behind him—“What are you doing?”

Nerves strained to the breaking point, Jason reacted on instinct.  He jerked away from the tire, yanking the tire iron back with him, and shifted his grip as he spun and swung with the movement.

The tire iron crashed into a nightmare.

The nightmare staggered back with a grunt.

Jason allowed himself a split second to feel—oh no oh fuck oh no—before booking it.

There was a time to fight and a time to flee the fucking country, oh fuck, he attacked Batman, he was going to die, he didn’t want to die and the pulsing sound of his heartbeat was overridden by the too-loud sound of his shoes smacking against loose asphalt.  He didn’t hear Batman, but he hadn’t heard the monster before he spoke up, and there was no fucking way Jason was looking back to check what’d happened.

Run, screamed every cell in his body, run and hide, adrenaline coursing through him and narrowing his focus on the desperate effort to get away.

If Jason had been slightly less panicked, he might’ve remembered that this alley was a dead-end before he nearly brained himself smacking against the brick wall.

Run, everything inside him insisted, and Jason clawed at the wall in an attempt to climb it, but there were no handholds, nowhere he could jam his fingers and hoist himself up.  The chill down his spine grew to a sharp, vicious ache as the weight of silent regard grew heavier and heavier.

Jason stared blankly at the brick wall and felt his face begin to prickle.

He was going to die.  It wasn’t a theoretical.  Batman murdered criminals, everyone knew it, and no one could stop him.  Certainly no one would care if he murdered Jason.  Jason was dead, and every breath he took could be his last.

His face was wet, and he was trembling all over.  He felt curiously detached from his body, like he was in a dream, and when he blinked, the world went dark for a stretching moment.  He didn’t want to die.  He didn’t want it to hurt.  He desperately didn’t want to feel pain.

A footstep echoed right behind him.

“Please,” Jason’s voice said hollowly, the words spilling from his mouth without permission.  Everything was blurry.  “Make it quick.”

One punch of the claws through his back, and Batman could rip his heart out.  It would be done.  He couldn’t hear Batman move, but the presence behind him intensified, and the world retreated a little bit more when a gauntleted, clawed hand settled on his shoulder

A slash of razor-sharp metal through his throat would be equally fast.  Jason let himself be maneuvered, let the threatening grip turn him around, let cold and bloody claws tip his chin up to look at Death.

It was terrifying.  This was the last thing many people saw before they died.  A hulking outline of shadows looming above them, a full-face mask with pointed ears and glowing white eyes, red glinting ever so darkly against the black armor.

“What’s your name?” the growl ground out, distorted and echoey.  It sounded like what monsters in the closet were made of.

“Jason,” he forced out through trembling lips.  Dead boys had no need of names.  A fresh wave of prickling crawled across his face, and everything went blurry again.

“Where are your parents, Jason?”  Oh, Batman was really pissed.  Luckily, Jason had no family for the monster to take it out on.

“Dead.”

Something changed in Batman’s posture, a tightening that some instinctive part of Jason recognized as anger.  There was nowhere to hide though, no kitchen table to crawl under with a dog to wait out the rage, and Jason just cowered against the brick wall.

“Who do you live with?”

“N-no one,” Jason stuttered.  Batman was determined to vent his fury.  Well, a little voice spoke up in his head, you did steal his tires.  What did you expect?

Batman was silent for a stretching moment, studying him.  Jason waited for his verdict, shivering despite his hoodie, cold with more than just the wind.  When Batman spoke, it was worse than all the horrible things Jason was imagining.

“I will take you to a social worker,” intoned the low growl, and Jason felt a new kind of terror rush through his veins.

“No,” he said automatically, his mind screaming in horror—at least with Six-Fingers he would just be a whore, he wouldn’t be a pet, he wouldn’t be owned—“Please—please don’t—”

“Jason—”

Jason was aware that he was interrupting, aware that this was Batman he was arguing with, but Jason was dead anyway, what more did he have to lose?  “Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees to plead for any mercy this nightmare possessed, “Please, just—just kill me, please, don’t—don’t give me to the traffickers, please, I’ll do anything.”  Jason had to break off to shudder through a sob, but before he could resume begging, Batman was moving.

The Terror of Gotham knelt in front of him to look Jason in the eyes.  The shock was enough to startle Jason into silence.

“Jason, I’m not going to kill you,” the growling voice said, “And I’m certainly not going to give you to traffickers.”

Jason…couldn’t tell which one of those was the lie.

“I know of a trusted foster parent that would give you a safe place to stay while I look into these traffickers,” Batman’s voice rang out firmly, “Would you like to stay with him?”

No, Jason would very much not like to stay with a buddy of Batman’s.  It was a trap, that much was obvious, but Jason had no choice but to walk straight into it.  This was Batman.

Jason nodded meekly, and took Batman’s proffered claw-tipped hand—slick with drying blood—to be pulled up to his feet.  “You can wait in the car while I put the tires back on,” Batman said, opening the door to reveal the darkened interior.

Jason wanted to protest, wanted to take his chances to run at the opposite end of the alley, wanted to wheedle his way into getting the tires himself so he could escape, but those glowing white eyes had transfixed him, and Jason’s fingers were sticky with someone’s blood, and he didn’t feel up to arguing.

He silently got in the car.  The tears didn’t stop.

[fbs-fc-ur-mommy]

Mature themes, use of drugs, shotgunning, intercourse, and mention of smoking and drinking.

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

You went to your usual meting site, an abandoned house near the train tracks. Simon was waiting there, he texted you after you finished your school.

You were exited to meet him there, maybe he could share his cigarettes with you again or better some sweet alcohol.

As you arrived there you entered the house, seeing two figures not one, it was Simon and someone you didn't knew but looked familiar. The brunette looked awful to Sophie. His outfit was an black one with white lines and the text EA 45. The man looked at you then turned to Simon.

-I'll leave, call me anytime when you want you know.

-Alright old man. Simon said, playfully tapping the man shoulder.

After he left you asked who that was.

-Oh, Him? His name is David, he sells drugs, I wanted today you to try it out.

-Drugs? You asked with a little fear. Simon you know that it's almost night time, if my parents sees my high they -

-You can stay at my house today, I'm alone for a few days - he cut you off.

He grabbed you hand and guide you to the stairs where you two would've use them as chair. He lighted up the joint and smoked, inhaled it and then exhale it with an smirk. He gave it to you which you looked at him with fear.

-Hey, [Name ] if you don't wanna do it-

-It's not that Simon! I never did this before, I'm a little afraid...

Simon looked at you with sympathy, you, an person with good monthly income, good grades and respectful reputation. Someone like you shouldn't hang out with someone like him, yet you did it. He knew he will fuck you up, destroy you. Your parents always warned you about him. He always told himself to stop hanging with you. To stop before it's too late. He already fucked up by teaching you how to skip classes, steal, smoke and drink. Stop it before it's too late. He thought about it night and day. Yet your eyes begged him to not leave you, to teach you and maybe more fucked things.

An idea crossed his mind and shared it to you.

- You want to try - shotgunning? What's even that? Simon do you plan to kill me? You asked him sarcastically, but it was true that you didn't know what was shotgunning.

Simon blushed at the idea of explaining it, yet he got the courage to do.

-It's basically blowing smoke via the mouth into another person.

-You want us to that?

-I mean only if you're comfortable...

You thought about it, it's basically kising right? But maybe Simon was just nice to help you... There was always an small tension between you two but maybe it was all in your head. You nod and Simon smiled to you. He put his joint again to his chapped lips and dragged an much longer drag than usual. Damn you Simon, you want to put me in the fucking hospital don't you?

While you were thinking you gasped when Simon hand grabbed your chin, then he lowered himself to your soft lips. His cold touch making you shiver, his rough lips to your soft ones maked you go feral, hardly controlling yourself from actually kissing Simon for real.

The hot smoke blowed into your mouth and eventually into your lungs maked you immediately light headed, the burning sensation in your throat maked you tearing up tears. But overall it was an nice felling.

Simon looked down at you, smirking he then drag again from the joint, not giving you an change to adjust to the felling. His lips joining you again. His hand who rested to your chin, his thumb started caressing your cheek.

He pulled away admiring your flurstrated form. You looked like thinking, staring and making holes with your eyes into the floor beneath. Suddenly he felt an hand grabbing the back of his neck, soft lips chasing his rough one's.

You pulled away in fear when you realised what you did. He looked shocked. He didn't even kiss back. He only flinched back when you kissed him. That's it. He's gonna tell everyone that you sexual harrased him, your parents will hear about it and the worse - will kick you out.

-Simon, I'm so fucking sorry - you thought of an excuse, was this because of you being high?

-[Name]...

You feared the worst.

-I was only surprised...

Then two hands grabbed your face, lips crashing into each other, tongue already exploring each other mouth's.

You didn't knew when your bottom clothes disappeared, but the only thing you knew was your face being pushed into the wall in front of you, the brutal truths making your legs shake, your tears leaving an uncomfortable felling on the face, salty taste from the tears in your mouth.

-S-Simon please! Slow down! - you begged, over stimulation making you cry and cry.

Simon looked down where your bodies would meet , your ass cheeks being red from his hands abusing them, his palm print being so pretty there. He wanted more skin to feel so he brought you up, his chest to your back and your head resting back to his shoulder. He bought one of your leg up, the position making him enter more deeply. He stayed inside you an little, not wanting things to end too soon. His left hand grabbing your face to kiss you, which you thought it would be an affectionate gesture, which wasn't when Simon suddenly started fucking you again, more brutal than before, making you cry into his mouth, more tears wetting his face too.

He finally came inside with an grunt, your legs giving up, which he allowed both of you sliding down into your knees to take breaths. He was soo tired too that he didn't bother to pull out. Only breathing could be hear, Simon clothed body hugging you from behind, defending you from the cold night air. You wanted to say something when an train passed by, muffling any noise so you waited.

-Simon if this was only an one night stand please leave and never see me again if it wasn't stay with me.

Simon was shocked by what you've said but happy at the same time.

-[Name]... - he groaned like he was tired to talk too. What you want us to be?

-Simon, let's be lovers.

When Simon heard that he knew the he fucked up, fucked you up too. He knew that your relationship would be forbidden. He knew that someone will leave broken. He knew all. Yet he decided to risk it all and have you.

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

Repost from my ao3 acc

[dabisbratz]

FORGIVENESS. — aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: 2.1k

WARNING: dirty talk (sho has the filthiest mouth ever :O), choking (brief), manhandling, slapping, face-grabbing, degradation/humiliation, semi-public sex, frottage, blowjob mention, creampie, ruined orgasm

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, cunt, pussy (even though these terms are used the readers genitals are ambiguous)

a/n: UMM I THINK I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE…….. DIALOGUE no one talks about how embarrassing it is to write this stuff outtttt my face is burning

“I just want to know why.” Aizawa says, hunched over with his hands in his pockets. You can see how tense his shoulders are, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you want to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. In the middle of Musutafu’s central police station, you sit in an uncomfortably stiff chair that digs into your thighs, the plastic all but holding you in place. It wasn’t even your fault— Okay, maybe throwing the first punch was your fault. And ignoring Shouta’s dire instructions to stay out of trouble. And maybe you deserve a slap on the wrist for instigating….But what was a broken leg to a regeneration quirk?

And maybe the whole argument-in-front-of-the-police thing wasn’t very smart either. So what, you’re a big boy. You can handle yourself, you don’t need Shouta’s saving.

“He’ll live.” Is all you say, watching Shouta’s jaw clench. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he nods once, crossing his arms over his chest. Through his black shirt, though baggy, you can see the swell of his biceps as they rest on his opposing knuckles. And because you just can’t help yourself, you grumble, “Bitch deserved it anyway.”

“Right..” He laughs, almost in disbelief, as he signs something you can’t quite make out at the reception table. Then he turns to you and grabs your arm, tightening his grip as he walks you out the station. You have the urge to run, to scramble out of his grasp and go as far as your legs will take you. To your left, a police officer looks ready to ask you more questions but he’s interrupted before he can even take an opening breath. “He’s with me, I got it handled.”

You’re fucked.

“Airheaded little boys and bars don’t mix,” He makes a passing comment, opening the passenger's seat to his car and hastily pushing you in. Usually, the casual dominance of his large, veiny hands buckling your seatbelt for you would have you swooning, raising your chin to steal a kiss on his stubbled cheek with a saccharine smile. Instead, you turn your head away, watching Shouta close the door and briskly walk to the driver’s seat, and from there he sits with bristle, moving his hair out of his handsome face. His eyes remain heavy-lidded, dark circles cascading into deep shadows around his tired eyes. “Do you—“

“I know you can’t say the same for yourself, but I handle myself just fine.” You feel quite proud of yourself for that one, crossing your arms over your chest and setting your jaw— just like you’d seen the hero do before.

“Aht, what do I always say about speaking over me?” Aizawa’s grip on your jaw tightens, squeezing your cheeks and pushing your lips together. You look much sweeter like this, quiet and anticipating as you look at him with wide eyes. His dark eyes are even darker, stone cold and unrelenting— but you can see a trickle of red light gleam through them. “Repeat it.”

“‘M’not sh’posed sh’to…” And part of you wants to ignore how the sadistic quirk of his lips upturns as you speak, but the brat in you just can’t let it go. You roll your eyes, averting your gaze as if the traffic lights are the most entertaining things you’ve seen in a while.

“Oh, so you can listen,” You just choose not to. His grip loosens as he pulls out the parking lot, driving in silence.

Save for the occasional blinker signal sound as he drives— wherever you’re going isn’t home, you’d realized after a particularly sharp turn into a vacant lot. During the drive, Aizawa seems to have collected himself, his long, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail that trickled down his shoulders. Evidently, he didn’t want to drive angry, and most certainly didn’t want to punish you while angry. “Need me to pound some sense into you, baby? Knock those bratty thoughts right outta that pretty head of yours?”

A high whine threatens to escape your throat, Shouta reaching over to grab your throat and nip at your lips, trailing hot, wet kisses and bites down to your chin and throat. He seems to move your body so easily, manhandling you into the perfect position to be used, into positions that have you whining and moaning like a slut. Your legs spread across his lap, and had his seat not been lowered, you’d surely have smacked your head into the ceiling.

It’s embarrassing, all it takes is a few kisses and bites to have you rutting in his arms, desperate to blow off steam and even more desperate for him. Aizawa’s hands rest at your hips, holding you down while he grinds into you slowly, like he’s fucking you, save for the layers of clothes in the way. You click your tongue, fingers exploring the dark sea of hair framing his face. You go to pull, wrapping the locks around your fingers, but your efforts are fruitless.

“You wanna touch? That’s cute. Ask for it, I know you can use your manners, gonna ask to touch me, baby?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deep and gruff and stern. It’s completely rhetorical, he’s demanding you ask. The low purr of his voice sends shivers down your spine, instinctively you move to touch between your thighs, to feel pressure where you need it, but you can’t.

Because Shouta stops you with his stupidly large and strong hands. Because Shouta’s gaze is stern and downright scary. Because Shouta’s dick could be inches down your throat by now, had you just been a good boy, and the promise of that in the future makes you want to pause. Still, you groan, because how dare he deprive you of his dick. How dare he let you sit there, drooling for it and whiney as if that’s not evidence enough.

“You just needed some attention, didn’t you?” Aizawa purrs, unbuttoning your clingy jeans and pulling them past the swell of your ass to place a harsh smack straight across it. You jerk forward, face falling into his shoulder as he laughs at you, condescending and evil and mean. “Needed Daddy to hold your hand, whisper a few pretty words in your ears and give that greedy pussy a stern talkin’ to.”

“Don’t— don’t call it that,” You whisper, weak in the knees and your limbs feel like jello.

“Why not? That’s what it is, isn’t it? Always so ready and pretty, always aching for Daddy’s tongue, fingers.. his cock. Got a perfect pussy on my boy, don’t I? S’a perfect fit.”

His dick springs to life, through the fly of his comfortable pants and twitching against his matching black sweatshirt. Your mouth waters, watching as the brown-pink tip leaks precum, a particularly pretty vein disappearing into the head and wrapping around his shaft. You want to trace it with your tongue, drool all over it and have him force it down your throat while you cry and moan. Knowing Shouta, he’d pinch your nose and watch you struggle to breathe with a sweet smile on his face.

You can hear the faint click of the center console organizer closing, and the loud squelch of lube pouring, but you don’t expect the cool sensation of it being rubbed into your skin. It feels nice against the blazing smack from earlier, but all you can think of is how obscene you must look, whining in your Daddy’s arms while he prods at your hole and squeezes handfuls of your ass. Cool air brushes against your hole, you’re spread out for anyone to see, back arched while you push back on his fingers and moan like a whore.

“Such a greedy hole,” Shouta tuts, smacking your ass once more as a warning to get you to stop moving. You both know if he wanted to he could simply grab your hips, hold you in place and finger your brains out, but he wants you to keep your composure yourself. You said it, anyways. You can handle yourself just fine. “Gonna let me fuck this cunt stupid, baby? Stretch you out like you need it. Don’t rush.”

His fingers curl inside you, moans bubbling in your throat as your hips buck forward, your front clothed and aching. Your eyes roll back, a knot forming in your stomach as your abdomen clenches and his fingers thrust into the same sweet spot over and over and over. You mewl and cry, blabbering nonsense into his ears while he nips at your cheek, calling you a slut for liking this so much, for trying to take his fingers deeper, even once they’ve reached the final knuckle.

“Never. Fuckin’. Satisfied.” He enunciates with particularly sharp thrusts before slowly sliding his fingers out of you, feeling your hole wink around nothing, empty once again. He wipes the remaining lube on his fingers onto your face, watching as your watery eyes blink in delayed confusion. He smiles, sadistically sweet before slapping you across the cheek and pushing his fingers into your mouth, watching your lips curl into a dopey smile. Still, you’re empty.

Too empty.

“Wait.. wait.. Sho’, wan’ more.. c‘mon, give it t’me, please! I can— M’your good boy, m’a good boy..” You sob, wailing in his cock as he pushes his head against your hole. You wriggle down, watching as his strong hands tighten around your waist. He holds you there, thrusting up into your hole to use you like a fleshlight, groaning as your warmth wraps around his big dick, and kisses his tip with velvet.

You squeal, eyes scrunched closed as he raises you up and down as if you weigh nothing, an aching burn in your thighs as you struggle to push down onto his cock.

“Shut up, if they catch you taking a Pro-Hero’s dick like some whore that’s all you’ll ever be known for,” He gasps, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear inside you through the side-view mirror. Sticky precum holds you two together, making a particularly sloppy sound when he pulls out completely, then slams back in. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Wanna be passed around at an agency, see how many loads you can take in that fuckin’ cunt.”

“M��sorry, Shou— M’sorry Daddy, please..!”

“You’ll take what I give you, brat,” His thrusts grow sluggish and sloppy as you crash into him and pant in his ear, tears streaming down your pretty face as every coherent thought leaves your brain. All you can muster out are jumbled pleas, toes curling as you grab his shirt— how slutty you must look while he’s still fully clothed. “You can handle yourself, right? You’ll cum on this dick with no hands, let Daddy fuck a load into you while you cum since you think you’re such a big boy.”

The knot in your abdomen tightens, your hole fluttering around his cock as Shouta moans, and you feel your body shutter as it briefly goes numb. You’re cumming, your head falls forward as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing in his lap with tiny, “Uh, uh, uh”‘s. Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock impossibly deep until you feel warmth flood your stomach, but before you can ride the high of getting your release, Shouta shoves you down at the hilt of his dick, pumping rope after rope inside you.

You want to cry, ball your hands into fists and beat at his chest because of course, you’re not allowed to cum. Of course, your orgasm is ruined and he gets to huff out satisfied breaths.

So mean.

“I know,” He sighs, breathless and tired as he slowly lifts you off his cock, hissing at the sensitivity. You let him do it, clawing at his shirt with a newfound lack of strength, whining as he catches the cum leaking out of you and pushes it back into your spent hole. He squeezes your ass one last time before pulling your pants and underwear back up, buttoning your jeans as if he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you high and dry. “I’m so mean, so mean. I’ll make it up to you.”

Too fucked out to say anything, you let him situate you back in the passengers seat, watching as he buckles your seatbelt for you. Whining, you grab his wrist, letting a sleepy smile grace your lips as he kisses your cheek. You had a lot to talk about once you got home, but he’d let you sleep for now.

“Brat.” He hums, nothing but love in his voice.

[thetravelingtyper]

On the same page...(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader Bookshop! AU) pt 1

After a disastrous breakup, you, an American author, escape to a little London bookstore with your best friend. However, when one patron takes a certain interest in you, you wonder if your story has been finished after all...

Part 2, Masterlist

“You used to get it in your fishnets

Now you only get it in your nightdress

Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness

Landed in a very common crisis

Everything's in order in a black hole

Nothing seems as pretty as the past though

That Bloody Mary's lacking in Tabasco

Remember when you used to be a rascal?”

Smooth lyrics picked with a bass line and beats in on the radio, your ears perked up and catching the beginning of fluorescent adolescent you sighed. The song wasn't helping your down mood and you pick up your phone, ignoring the 10+ missed calls from your ex, and changed the song. After shuffling for a moment another piercing ring lit up your phone.

God leave me alone!

You sigh to yourself and toss your phone back on the counter of the bookstore as the door rings, announcing a customer. Your eyes flick to the door as a tall man enters. Lightly buzzed hair looks soft in the light and you catch yourself staring a little and he grins at you. You welcome him in and he nods then heads towards the history section. You watch how he carries himself. Strong and steady with a soldier's confidence. You think a little about it, the strength those arms carry before your phone rings again...

Your hand flies to your phone and you finally silence the poor thing, the buzzing remaining like a dying animal, a fit allusion to your past relationship. You remember the glittering smirks of the ladies and your fiance's grin, eyes shadowed with greed as you stood in a winning dress. The bastard ruined your image and your future with one moment, pulling the girl to him for a steaming kiss. Flashes of lights as the crowding press pushed past you and left you in the dark.

Glittering lights turned to stars as you left the gala alone, pushing the cheating bastard and your ‘friends’, truthfully venomous colleagues, to the back of your mind. You had gotten back home to your flat, packed everything you could, and kicked it to stay with a friend. You could imagine the headlines. “Downbeat author loses job and life!” You groan wipe a hand down your face and force yourself into the present.

You stand and shift your weight from foot to foot. It was a practice Sam had taught you when you both first moved out. His extended family was in the publishing business and owned a bookstore in London proper with an attached apartment on top. It was easy for him to steal his best friend away and across the pond for a new life chasing words through the drizzly streets of London.

Put yourself in the current moment, and learn to reset yourself if needed!

His warm voice rings in your ears and you smile, stretching and taking stock of the current moment. It was currently 5:36 on a Thursday, it was the middle of February so it was cold outside, currently not raining but cloudy. If you look you can see covered strangers pass back and forth outside the windows of the bookshop.

It had been a few months since you settled in but they were full of meeting Sam’s family and getting your writing career back on your feet. After the shame of the breakup, you had taken an extended break from writing. However restful for you, your manager was insistent on getting a book finished by the middle of the year, or year's end at worst. So you dutifully spent your time manning the bookshop and writing when you could bear to. But every time you opened that blank white screen you grimaced, seeing...

A large thunk on the counter makes you jump. Your eyes and mind darting back to the present.

“Aye sorry lass.” A thick Scottish voice apologizes and you catch first his smile, he's teasing.

You shake yourself out of it and reach over the counter to grab at his book, A History of Military Maneuvers.

“You certainly chose some dense reading material,” You quip at him as an easy smile lights up your face as well. You take the book and bag it, mentioning the price as he passes you a card.

“It's not too bad when you live it.” He explains simply. That would explain the physique.

“Did you serve?”

“I did once, not anymore. Took one too many and it put me on the sidelines. I found quieter work around the city.” He says it calmly but you catch his hand and rub his shoulder. It seems a sore spot for him. You think of your career back in the States and frown.

“I don’t blame you,” a hurt passes over your eyes. Your writer's brain latches onto his character. He seemed to enjoy part of his career, but you can see the injury in your mind's eye now, one moment normal then the next some career-ending injury.

“What do you do? I've seen you in the store before.” He brushes a hand through his hair a little ashamed.

You raise a brow,

“Been watching have you? I am an author back in the States for your information, Mr…?”

He grins at you and offers his hand across the counter,

“John, John MacTavish but my friends just call me Soap.”

You return his handshake. His hands are rough and completely engulf yours, a fact that makes your heart skip a beat at the realization.

His phone then rings and he pulls away from you to check it. 

“I got to get this love, but it was nice finally putting a name to the face. I'll be seeing ye around.”

With that Soap takes the bag and makes his exit into the cold evening. With his departure, you feel your spirits lift. Maybe, you think flexing your hand, there is a story to be written after all.

[okminer07]

Slave to the Light Pt 8

A Baldur's Gate Fanfiction

Lorelai was glad none of the bigfolk had come around to bother her. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there at the base of the yew tree for, but from the ache in her back she was starting to get, it must have been a decent amount of time. She had made use of that time however, at her side now lay the curved riser of a soon to be bow along with half a dozen needle thin arrows with little chunks of pebbles stuck to the tips with some sap she had procured from the tree. Naturally she planned on making more arrows, but for now, she decided to turn her efforts back to finishing the bow. 

A problem had arisen however. She had already scoured around for spider webs, even if they would have made a lackluster string, but hadn’t been able to find even an old strand of cobweb.  

She had been putting off going back into the camp for some time now, quite liking this quiet solitude, but it seemed she had no choice. Gathering up the riser and arrows, she began trekking her way back over to the clearing the bigfolk had made their camp. As she walked, her eyes darted around, locating each and every one of them and was pleased to see they all seemed preoccupied. Gale was sitting outside his tent, reading a book titled The creatures of the Fey wilds and everything you could ever want to know about them. Lorelai rolled her eyes, glancing further left where she got sight of a familiar figure. An elf-like woman with long black hair much like her own, who was kneeling with her head tilted down in a meditative looking state. Shadowheart, that’s what her name had been, yes. She had been the one who’d healed her, useful sort then.  

As Lorelai made her way around the perimeter of the camp site, she caught sight of exactly what she had been looking for. A spool of some sort of string, twine perhaps, lay in a basket set outside a somewhat menacing light blue tent with what looked to be hunting and battle trophies scattered all around the outside. She hurried over to it, stopping so she was right up beside the basket. Her eyes darted around and when they saw no one was approaching, she leapt up, grabbing onto the rim and heaving herself on top of it.  

The spool right in front of her, she leaned forward and pulled loose a strand of string. Taking out the sharp pebble she had found, she sawed at the string until she was able to rip off what she needed.  

String in hand, she hopped back down to the ground, the jump making her calves burn. Sitting herself down against the basket, she grabbed the riser she had left on the ground and began to weave the string through the holes at the tips she had carved out.  She gave the string a quick tug, satisfied when that caused the limbs of the riser to bend.  

“What is this?”

Lorelai tensed when the ground quivered. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a shadow enveloped her. She slowly turned, looking up to see a green, scowling face. A gith? On the material plane? The gith, clearly female, continued to glare down at her. Her miniscule nose scrunched up making it somehow look even smaller. 

“What sort of pest are you to steal my stuff?” From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the gith’s reptilian hands move a fraction of an inch forward. Not a second later, Lorelai had sprung into action. Using her bare foot, she kicked up one of her arrows, loaded it, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew through the air and the gith didn’t have time to even notice it before it had flown right up one of her nostrils. 

In an instant, the gith recoiled, letting out a roar of pain as her hand shot up to her face. Lorelai didn’t wait around, she started to run. 

“Why you little-!” Lorelai threw herself to the ground and out of the way as an armored boot came crashing down right where she would have been had she continued forward. She rolled over, groping for another arrow, looking up and feeling her blood run cold as the gith drew her hand away from her bleeding nose.  

“Tas’ki! I’ll-”  

“Lae’zel wait!” 

Lorelai bounced off the ground as heavy and hurried footsteps approached. The two both looked up to see Karlach running over waving her hands. The gith scowled as Karlach stopped between the two. 

“What are you doing?” 

The gith shot a finger down at Lorelai, her other hand going back to holding her nose “This- whatever it is, was stealing from me and then attacked me! I’m disposing of it” 

Karlach glanced down at Lorelai, “You did?” 

She scooted away, scoffing, “I didn’t know it was hers!”  

The Tiefling turned back to the gith, “Lae’zel, this isn’t a pest. This is Lorelai. Lorelai, Lae’zel.'' She stepped aside to let the two look at each other. The gith- Lae’zel raised a brow, before glaring back down at Lorelai. 

“What are you?” 

“She’s a pixie. Can you believe it?” Karlach flashed a smile down at Lorelai. 

Lae’zel’s eyes widened slightly, “A pixie?” 

“Yes, found her last night. Decided she’ll be joining us.” 

Lae’zel flew back into a glare, “Has she…. Well, tell this Lorelai to stay away from my stuff, unless she wants to become a red stain upon the ground.” she growled before turning, and beginning to leave, but not before she heard her mutter under her breath, “Not a bad shot”. 

Sorry for the short part. If you would rather read longer parts, I post more condensed versions of all my stories on DeviantArt, but post much less often there.

[wutaijiemei]

謀殺石蓮 // murder echeveria

natsuko's commentary on the song:

I just get a little frustrated sometimes, because every time I write lyrics in Amis or include some kind of easily identifiable indigenous element in my songs, 70-80% of responses mention dancing and celebrating, contentment with life, laughing away one’s troubles, and so on, even if the lyrics are dark and serious. It’s to the point where even if I’m candidly describing the pain of loss and grief, I’ll still get cheerful responses. I carry the skeletons of my people through my work and watch the audience consume their cries like a black hole, swallowing up all traces of sound. Like viewers in front of a blockbuster exploitation film, or a movie with a charming white male savior, or a popcorn flick about defying authority, emotions are stirred while people are in their seats, and once they leave the theater, their hearts can be at ease. Issues of gender, race, ethnicity, class, etc. all resolve themselves neatly. Everyone forgives, everyone departs. Everyone returns to their daily lives. But the real world is no less free of suffering, suffering which has seen no end, no resolution, no compensation, no atonement. Suffering that has yet to be directly faced, or even acknowledged. I continue to live in an endlessly broadcasting horror movie. I am blamed by outsiders for not performing enough, or performing too much, and I blame myself even more. The weed that looks like a flower lived well in its natural state. Only once forced to submit to the will of government and economic circumstance, once “she” has been pulled up by the roots and replanted in a plastic flower pot, does she attempt to fit this new appearance. But her captors just hold the pot in their hands and degrade her without end, because, after all, a weed cannot become a flower. At the start of the film Nope, the flying, man-eating monster that is Hollywood and mainstream society throws down a nickel from the sky, killing the figure of the Black cowboy erased from Western film history. What do you want from me? What else will it take to satisfy you?

lyrics, pangcah/amis -> english:

tayniay cangra midateng to semot no mako they came to pick the weeds from my land, ikor to i, ’afas han nangra ko tireng no mako then they took my body.

caayay ka piliyas cangra they never left.

nengneng han kora semot hato hana the weed that looks like a flower mapitpit ko ‘adingo nora hana has had its soul plucked from its stem

o rihaw iso hato ngiha ni Alikakay your voice is as hoarse as a ghost's mana tomangic kiso? why are you crying?

aya, mahecaday to hana a semot ah, the weed that looks like a flower ‘enoc sa to kahengangay a odax has swallowed the red candy cengawen ko mata, mana caka co’a’angen iso? open your eyes, why resist? samaanen ako? what would you have me do?

malafaliay ko mi’ang’ang no mako my cries became the wind malahedaway to i kana sawad a tokay disappearing into the overgrown city mapatayay to kora tahada’ocay a fu’is a star long dead mafolfol koni langdaway ka’oripan a cikiw shattered this blue planet malao’raday to ko losa’ no mako my tears turned to rain malakoliay to koni ki’etecay a kikay and froze into ice-cold machinery samaanen ako na madodo’ ko faloco’ iso? what else would you have me do?

lomowad a ma'orip nai patay rise from the dead nai to’emanay a kakarayan from the dark expanse of space

(ecce Deus ex machina)

malacidal ko keter no mako, my rage has become the sun matodoh nira ko sahekalan it will burn its earth to ash o ci’edilay a kowang a gun emitting beams of light o kimad no kikay the myth of a machine

nengneng han kora semot hato hana the weed that looks like a flower （you are approaching the truth） （they will steal it from you）

hawikiden ko ataneng no kalokawas carries the wisdom of the gods （now pick up your laser gun） （till the smoke erases the sun）

cowa to tanotireng kako hatini i am no longer alone （so aggressive, so rude） （they are gonna murder you）

caay to ka palit iso ko tireng ako you cannot imprison me again （my dear, my dear little echeveria）

aya, mahecaday to hana a semot ah, the weed that looks like a flower （you have witnessed the truth） （they can’t take it from you）

hawikiden ko ’icel no kalokawas carries the strength of the gods （drop your smoking laser gun） （there is no more place to run）

cowa to tanokamay kako i am no longer defenseless （so aggressive, so rude） （they are gonna murder you）

taniwaniway sa tahira i tolas no kakarayan wandering to the ends of the universe （my dear, my dear little echeveria）

[fritextramole]

in a war that can't be won

part 4 of a Vanessa Abrams playlist - best heard in order

tracklist and quotes under the cut

Black Ops ~ They Might Be Giants

We take the best of it And make a mess of it Ripping up some lawn And then we're gone

There’s No Home For You Here ~ The White Stripes

Each simple gesture done by me is counteracted And leaves me standing here with nothing else to say

Still Waiting ~ Sum 41

This can't last forever Time won't make things better I feel so alone, can't help myself

Kids In The Dark ~ All Time Low

Lookin' back, I see a setting sun And watch my shadow fade into the floor I am left standing on the edge Wondering how we got this far

Black Hole Sun ~ Soundgarden

Stuttering Cold and damp Steal the warm wind, tired friend Times are gone For honest men Sometimes, far too long for snakes In my shoes

Climbing the Walls ~ They Might Be Giants

I can't talk, I gotta go Don't call me back, I won't get the door Got to focus on the job 'Cause I got a new job

A Means to an End ~ Joy Division

Is this your goal, your final needs Where dogs and vultures eat Committed still I turn to go

You Need Me, I Don’t Need You ~ Måneskin

I won't stop until my name's in lights With stadium heights, with Damien Rice

My Hero ~ Foo Fighters

There goes my hero He's ordinary

Can’t Repeat ~ The Offspring

Life goes on, come of age Can't hold on, turn the page Time rolls on, wipe these eyes Yesterday laughs, tomorrow cries

Coming of Age ~ Foster The People

Well, I see you standing there like a rabid dog And you got those crying eyes Makes me wanna surrender and wrap you in my arms You know I try to live without regrets I'm always moving forward and not looking back

Back to the Old House ~ The Smiths

I would rather not go Back to the old house There's too many bad memories

New York ~ St. Vincent

If I last-strawed you on 8th Avenue Well, you're the only motherfucker in the city who can stand me I have lost a hero I have lost a friend

Darlin’ darlin’ ~ The Knee-Hi’s

Darlin', darlin', won't you kiss me on my head? I'm laying patiently on our unmade bed So won't you hold me and tell me goodbye Before I lay here and shut my eyes?

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything ~ Bauhaus

All we ever wanted was everything All we ever got was cold Get up, eat jelly Sandwich bars, and barbed wire Squash every week into a day

Astronomy ~ Conan Grey

We drive through the woods, rich neighborhoods to watch We joked as we looked that they were too good for us 'Cause socially speaking, we were the same With runaway fathers and mothers who drank A tale old as time, young love don't last for life And now I know, now I know It's time to go, it's time to go

All Used Up ~ Utah Phillips

Outside my window the world passes by It gives me a handout, then spits in my eye

Cities In Dust ~ Siouxsie and the Banshees

We found you hiding, we found you lying Choking on the dirt and sand Your former glories, and all the stories Dragged and washed with eager hands

That Funny Feeling ~ Bo Burnham

Reading Pornhub's terms of service, going for a drive And obeying all the traffic laws in Grand Theft Auto V Full agoraphobic, losing focus, cover blown

It Doesn’t Matter to Him ~ John Grant, Sinead O’Connor

Vulnerability feels like a cold, wet concrete room lit with fluorescent light Which, as you know, makes everything look bad I still keep trying to figure out how I became irrelevant How I got myself evicted from his heart from one day to the next And the worst part is that, even if I got an answer right now It would not change anything because we have become two strangers

(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay ~ Otis Redding

Sittin' here resting my bones And this loneliness won't leave me alone It's two thousand miles I roamed

All Things Must Pass ~ George Harrison

Now the darkness only stays at nighttime In the morning it will fade away

A Change Is Gonna Come ~ Sam Cooke

I go to the movie And I go downtown Somebody keep tellin' me "don't hang around"

Roddy ~ Djo

One drink's what lead to the change Out on my own, kicked out of the show I'll take what's mine and I'll go

Can You Get To That ~ Funkadelic

I recollect with a-mixed emotions all the good times we used to have But you were making preparations for the coming separation and you blew everything we had When you base your love on credit and your loving days are done Checks you signed with a-love and kisses, later come back signed, "Insufficient funds"

Shotgun ~ Pomplamoose, dodie

If you need me, you know where I'll be I'll be riding shotgun Underneath the hot sun Feeling like a someone

Bread and Roses ~ Dawn Landes, Alana Amram, Abigail Chapin

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too

Nina Cried Power ~ Hozier, Mavis Staples

It's not the song, it is the singing It's the hearing of a human spirit ringing It is the bringing of the line It is the bearing of the rhyme It's not the waking, it's the rising

[roxannarambles]

Title: The Bloodmoon Graves (Part 3/7)

Summary: Nemona learns about the rumors of a fabled "Bloodmoon Beast" and decides they should all go for a camping trip out in the Timeless Woods to search for it. They end up finding a bit more than they bargained for.

(See Ch 1 for tags & other info)

Chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Epilogue

When Juliana next woke, it wasn’t to the sound of Nemona’s cell phone alarm going off like she’d expected. Instead, it was a loud rustling in their tent that seemed to wake her. She blinked awake groggily and looked around, but it was far too dark by now, so she fumbled about for the tiny electric lantern. 

It took her a while to find it, and in that time, Nemona also woke, mumbling,

“Mmm, hnnm? You ok?”

Juliana clicked the light on, blinking in the sudden brightness and shielding her eyes for a moment.

“Ugh. Yeah, I just heard a buncha noise, was that you?”

“No.”

As Juliana’s eyes adjusted to the light, she glanced around the tent. When her gaze fell on the spot near the front of the tent where they’d left their backpacks, she felt a surprised little jolt.

“What– our stuff, what happened?”

Both of their backpacks were gone. At first, Juliana thought somebody had opened the tent and nabbed them, but as she crawled forward on her sleeping bag, she saw the truth was much stranger.

“What the heck is this?”

Nemona crawled beside her, looking down at the spot where their backpacks used to rest. The floor of the tent had been ripped open, apparently from beneath the tent, since no other part of the tent was damaged. There was a hole in the ground beneath that apparently the backpacks had been pulled down into. 

Well, that was . . . concerning. 

Nemona exclaimed, 

“No way, did some pokemon steal our stuff?!”

Juliana frowned, 

“Looks like it. Did you have any granola bars or something in your bag?”

“No way, not after that lecture Arven gave us earlier.”

“Hmm.”

Juliana leaned over the hole and stared down into it, noticing a dark, sticky substance. She reached out and touched it gingerly. It was pitch-black and smelled foul.

“That’s weird, what’s this junk? It’s almost like . . . wait, Nemona, look.”

She showed her the gross goop.

“Doesn’t it look like that tar we saw earlier in the cave? Smells like it, too.”

“Oh, yeah! That’s exactly it. Whoa . . . you think that tar pit runs under this entire forest, maybe? And it’s just seeping up?”

Juliana wiped the tar off her hand on the foot of her sleeping bag.

“Maybe. Although . . . it’s a little too suspicious that it did it right on the spot with our backpacks.”

Nemona nodded.

“Yeah, true, and besides, the tent looks ripped here. It has to be a pokemon. Something that burrows, Dundunsparce maybe.”

“Yeah. Or maybe even Charjabug. I wonder what they wanted with our bags though.”

“No clue. Man, I hope they didn’t take them far. We’d better look.”

The two hastily dressed– fortunately they’d chucked their clothes to the side and they hadn’t been stolen away with all their other stuff. Juliana grabbed the electric lantern and Nemona grabbed her cell phone, which she had left near her pillow since it was being used as their 2am alarm. Unfortunately Juliana’s phone had been in her backpack, so it was the only phone between them.

Outside, the air had a biting chill, and the fog had already started to roll in. It wasn’t too surprising, since it was pretty close to 2am anyway. 

“Ooof, cold.”

“Yeah. Wish I hadn’t left my jacket in my bag.”

They found no signs of foul play in the immediate vicinity, so they came to Arven’s tent and zipped it open.

“Knock knock.”

Arven and Penny shielded their eyes from the light of the lantern and groaned.

“Ughh, guys.”

“Whuh? Is it time already? My alarm didn’t go off.”

Juliana lowered the lantern a little.

“Sorry. There’s a bit of a problem. Our stuff got . . . uh-oh.”

She stopped short, staring at the floor of Arven’s tent. The others followed her gaze, noticing the problem; just like Juliana’s tent, holes had been torn into the floor, nothing but a sticky goop left behind. 

“What the heck, where’s my bag?!”

Arven lurched forward and pawed at the hole in the ground, reaching in to try to find it. 

“Eughh!”

All he found was handfuls of tar for his troubles.

“Yeah . . . the same thing happened to us. I’m surprised you were able to sleep through it.”

Sounding anxious, Penny replied,

“That’s because I had my music cranked up and he had his head stuffed into a pillow! We kept hearing weird noises in camp but Arven said to just ignore them.”

Arven scowled,

“It doesn’t make any sense! There wasn’t the slightest bit of food in those bags, why would they take them? Were you guys hoarding something in yours?!”

“No! Nothing, not even crumbs.”

“No food wrappers? Anything scented like food, like a fruity deodorant or something–”

“No.”

“Ugh. Any tasty rocks or minerals? There’s Graveler around here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It just doesn’t make sense . . .”

Penny cut in,

“We can figure it out later, for now let’s just find our stuff.”

Nemona agreed,

“Yeah, I don’t like being without my pokemon.”

Juliana nodded, wishing she’d at least left Ogerpon out of her ball while they’d slept, but the tent had been so small, they’d let all their pokemon sleep in their balls. 

Arven’s eyes widened at Nemona’s comment, as if he only now realized the full implications of their bags being stolen. 

“R-right. I’m sure they can’t be far.”

~

Arven and Penny got dressed and joined them in the search, although it rapidly started to unnerve Juliana just how poorly equipped they were for the task. Arven’s phone had been charging on top of his bag and was missing, so only Penny had her phone, and like Juliana and Nemona, they’d let all their pokemon sleep in their balls, tucked away in the bags too. That meant that between the four of them, they had a wimpy electric lantern and the flash from two dying cell phones for light. 

And that was about it. All their important equipment and jackets had been in their bags, the only stuff left out on the campgrounds was some cooking equipment and bulkier items. They carefully searched over their campsite, but there were no other signs of disturbances. They also returned to the mysterious holes torn into the ground and stuck various objects inside– long sticks, mostly– in an attempt to retrieve whatever may lay within. However, the tar was too dense for them to determine how deep the holes really were, and they couldn’t find anything inside other than more goop.

It was only when they started to venture beyond the campsite that they made any progress. Not too far past where they’d pitched their tents, they found a couple empty bottles of Repel and a torn-up jacket– it was Penny’s. And past that, some sunscreen, a water bottle, and a chewed-up toothbrush. With enough searching, they found the contents of their bags strewn across the woods, many of their items gnawed on if not completely mauled, oftentimes smeared in sticky tar. 

“It’s like a Chansey Egg hunt!” Nemona had said,

“Um, if Chansey Egg hunts were super creepy and the prize was our chewed-up stuff instead of candy!”

By the end of their Chansey Egg hunt, they had recovered Penny’s, Nemona’s and Juliana’s bags and some of the contents of their bags. Certainly not everything, but they did recover the girls’ pokeballs, which was the most important thing for them.

However, despite the good news, things were still a little complicated. When they brought their haul back to camp, they found the pokeballs weren’t in the best of shape. For some reason they were fouled up the most out of all the items they’d lost; each ball covered in a thick layer of the sticky tar. When they tried to remove the tar, they only met with frustration.

“What the heck is this junk made of, glue?!”

Juliana’s fingers were black and gunky, but no matter how much she tried to clean the pokeballs, she couldn’t free them– it was like the tar had dried into a rubbery, solid mass. Water just rolled right off it, as if the tar had some kind of hydrophobic quality. 

“Here, let me give it a shot.”

Arven had lit the campfire again, since it was quite cold by now and both the heat and light were very helpful in the moment. He tried for a while to clean the pokeballs but didn’t have any more success. 

He grunted,

“Wish we found the first aid kit . . . if I had some rubbing alcohol it’d probably do the trick.”

“Penny, do we know if our Pokemon are at least okay in there? I’m worried,” Nemona said, bringing one of her pokeballs to her. Penny nodded, taking the ball and depressing the button.

“I think so. When I press the button it looks like the ball mechanisms still work fine, see? They’re just . . . physically jammed shut with this junk. Once we find a way to get it off, they should be fine.”

Nemoa sighed.

“Well, that’s a relief at least.”

Arven set down one of the pokeballs, frowning.

“It is weird that the pokeballs are the messiest out of everything we’ve found. It’s almost as if whatever went after our stuff was after the pokeballs in particular.”

Juliana shrugged.

“Maybe, I dunno. I’m also kinda worried that I didn’t find my cell phone, though. Or any other flashlights.”

“Or any of my stuff at all,” Arven said, expression sober. Nemona’s eyes widened.

“Wait, really? You didn’t find anything of yours?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not good.”

He sat down by the fire.

“Yeah, I know.”

Frustrated, Penny said,

“And we still don’t even have a clue of what we’re dealing with! What kind of pokemon burrows under your tent and just snatches your stuff like that? And leaves all this tar everywhere?”

Looking thoughtful, Juliana tentatively suggested,

“Well . . . maybe it was the Bloodmoon Beast?”

Nemona gasped,

“Oh my god, yeah!! Ursaluna love to dig, and I hear their sense of smell is amazing! Maybe it smelled all our human stuff and got curious?”

Penny countered,

“But aren’t Ursaluna like, really big? Especially this Beast of yours? The holes in the tent were pretty small in comparison. It didn’t look like a whole bear could fit in there, more like a Sandslash or something.”

Nemona frowned.

“That’s true . . . hmm.”

Penny continued,

“Plus, there’s the whole tar thing. The only pokemon I know that can do that is Coalossal . . . but those are pretty huge too.”

“Not to mention they aren’t found in Kitakami,” Arven put in. 

Juliana offered,

“Well, the cave that Nemona and I found had a tar pit inside. It seemed to be naturally occuring. It’s possible that pokemon that burrow in this forest can get all gunked up and the tar just rises to the surface.”

Penny said,

“Hmm. That’s good to know, I guess . . . but it doesn’t make it any easier to figure out what the heck’s going on.”

Nemona set the rest of her pokeballs into her mucked-up bag, saying,

“Either way, we need to go back out there and find Arven’s stuff, so maybe we’ll find more clues when we do.”

“Um, I dunno if that’s a great idea,” Arven commented. He gestured around them.

“Take a look out there. The fog’s been getting worse, and it’s getting colder, too. Visibility is pretty terrible by now, even with proper flashlights, which we don’t have.”

They gazed around at the woods just beyond the comfort of their little campfire. Arven was right– the fog was much denser. Even the full moon was washed out, hardly more than a tiny glowing smudge in the sky.

Nemona glanced at her phone.

“Well, it’s past 2am, so that makes sense. That’s when it’s supposed to be the best time to look for the Bloodmoon Beast . . . when it’s hardest for humans to see.”

Arven continued,

“And, we happen to be defenseless at the moment, since none of our pokeballs will open. If we do get unlucky enough to run into something that goes bump in the night, we’ll be pretty screwed.”

“But what are you suggesting we do? We can’t just leave your stuff out there, right? Your pokemon are still missing,” Nemona pointed out. Arven crossed his arms, annoyed.

“Believe me, I’m aware of the fact they’re missing. I am not at all thrilled with the idea of having no clue where they are right now. But now might not be the time to look for them. Not when–”

He was interrupted when a strange, high-pitched wail filled the air. It was impossible to tell how far away it was or even what direction it came from; it seemed to echo throughout the entire forest.

“Great, it’s back,” Penny muttered, drawing closer to the campfire and looking very unhappy.

“Back?”

“We heard it a bunch earlier tonight. It was stumbling around camp too but–”

The cry returned, but this time, it was joined by several others; a chorus of shrill whines.

“Oh cool. Now there’s more of them,” Penny deadpanned, sitting down by the fire. Nemona and Juliana exchanged a look.

“I’ve never heard a cry like that before, have you?”

“No . . . I’d say maybe it was the Beast but, um . . .”

The cries seemed to fade away and pick up intermittently, and it was still impossible to tell where they were coming from, but it definitely sounded like there were a lot of them.

“That seems like a whole pack out there. Of something.”

“Right. We definitely are staying put then,” Arven said. The others looked at him.

“What?! Staying put? They could come back here!” Penny said tersely. Nemona agreed,

“Yeah!”

“Well if we go running around out there, we’ll definitely be in danger!” Arven retorted. Nemona suggested,

“Why don’t we just look for your bag, Arven? Maybe if we find it, your pokeballs will still work. We might get lucky.”

“Or we might get dead! You wanna run headlong into your wailing friends out there?”

“I mean . . . they could have attacked us earlier, they didn’t. They might not be that aggressive, just playful.”

Arven held up Penny’s poor, tattered, Eevee-shaped backpack, gesturing emphatically,

“Penny’s backpack is practically in ribbons, you call that ‘playful’?!”

Penny grabbed her backpack from him and cut in,

“Why don’t we just, you know, leave? Can we do that? Get the hell out of here and come back later on to look for Arven’s stuff in daytime, sane-person hours?”

“Oh, no no no, we’re not doing that either,” Arven said, shaking his head adamantly.

“Why not?!”

“Because! It is in the dead of night, your phone is at 13% and Nemona’s is at 20. There is zero cell service, the only thing we have is the phone’s GPS, but that won’t last us long. There is practically no visibility right now, we can’t navigate by landmarks or the sky, even if I did have my maps and compass. At best, we’d get incredibly lost and make our situation much worse, and that’s at best.”

“Arven–”

“Penny, I know what I’m talking about. There’s countless stories of hikers who get lost and die but they could have survived just fine if they stayed put and kept calm, waited for rescue or better conditions to act.”

“I don’t care about your stories, Arven, 20% battery is plenty of time to find our way out of the woods, and at least that way we won’t be a bunch of sitting Duckletts–”

“She’s right, Arven, if we’re not looking for your stuff, we could at least do something besides sit here–”

“We have a campfire here and a little bit of wood left. If we feed the fire carefully we can last the night, keep warm and most Pokemon won’t even approach us.”

“Unless they’re fire types . . .”

“Nemona, will you stop–”

Juliana groaned, finally speaking up,

“--guys! Please, can we stop arguing? This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Arven agreed,

“You’re right, it isn’t. Let’s just stick with my plan.”

Penny scowled,

“Arven. We need to find a way to agree, not just default to your plan.”

They fell into a tense silence for several beats. 

Nemona turned and gestured,

“Well, why don’t we let Juliana be the tie-breaker? Since we all want to do different things.”

Arven crossed his arms, sighing.

“. . . fine. I guess. But Juliana, you better not just go with Nemona’s plan because you like her best.”

Juliana huffed,

“Don’t be ridiculous, Arven.”

“I’m just saying, it’s pretty clear you two are–”

Juliana quickly snapped,

“Do you want me to pick your plan or not?”

Arven shut his mouth. 

“Thank you. Now let me think a bit. Uh . . .”

In truth, Juliana wasn’t sure how to proceed. She could kind of see the value in everyone’s point of view. If they stayed here, the strange pokemon could just return to camp and harass them further and they’d be defenseless. But if they tried to leave or look for Arven’s stuff, they could just as easily get into trouble out there. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

She started to say,

“What if we–”

A sudden cry drowned her out; it was loud, much, much louder than before, and it droned on and on, an agonized howling sound. Everyone looked at each other. The dwindling campfire’s light flickered, casting dancing lights and shadows across their frightened faces.

Nemona snatched up something from the nearby cooking equipment and brandished it– Juliana realized it was Arven’s barbeque fork.

“What are you doing,” Arven hissed. She whispered,

“What’s it look like? Getting ready to battle.”

Penny stared out into the woods, wide-eyed.

“Shut up, they’ll hear you,” she whispered as intensely as a person could while simultaneously trying to be as quiet as possible. Arven’s gaze shifted between Nemona, Penny and Juliana, looking uncertain. Then he crept up to grab something as well– some grill tongs, it looked like– with a noisy rustle.

The howl returned, followed by a cascade of voices echoing and bouncing through the trees, all of them sharp and excited, almost like barking. Nemona whipped the light of her cell phone about, but they couldn’t see anything; Juliana had hold of the little lantern but fell back closer to the campfire, unsure of what she should do.

“There!” Arven whispered suddenly, gesturing into the woods on their left. There was a flickering light dancing in the fog. It could have been anything, really, even just a Volbeat or a wandering Duskull, but Arven picked up Penny’s phone to use as a flashlight and started to advance slowly in the direction of the strange point of light. Juliana grabbed his arm, saying,

“Arven, wait– I thought you were Mr. Stay-Put, what are you doing–”

“I just want a better look at it.”

“We should stick together!”

He’d already stalked ahead of her several steps, so Juliana and Nemona moved to follow. From the campfire, Penny’s panicked whisper protested,

“Guys, don’t leave!”

And then Arven just . . . vanished. 

He didn’t stumble and fall or anything, he didn’t run out into the fog; he was only a few paces in front of Juliana one second, and the next, he was just gone, like some void just swallowed him whole. 

“Arven!”

Nemona and Juliana rushed to the spot he used to be, confused and waving their lights around. The grill tongs and the phone he’d been holding were left on the ground, but that was it. No sudden pits, nothing. 

“I’m sorry, but what the hell?”

Juliana started to lean down to pick up the tongs, but Nemona warned,

“Careful, Jules–” The sound of shrieking and yapping drowned Nemona out, and they both spun around, but there was nothing to be seen. Nemona yelled over the noise,

“Stay close!” Juliana absolutely was sticking close, she wasn’t going to let Nemona drop off the planet in front of her too. She linked arms with her, since both Nemona’s hands were occupied with her phone and the barbeque fork. Penny’s voice called out,

“G-guys?! Are you okay?”

Nemona answered,

“Stay by the fire, Penny, we’ll come to you.”

Juliana whispered,

“But what about Arven?”

“We’ll find him, we just need to regroup! We– aaaagh!”

Juliana had glanced behind her to where Arven had vanished, but when she turned back again, both girls were hit in the face with a blinding light. It had descended upon them from the woods, flashing in a rapid, dizzying pattern that made Juliana’s stomach turn.

“It’s a Confuse Ray, shut your eyes!” Nemona shouted, just as the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Juliana felt as though the world around her was spinning, an overwhelming sense of vertigo– coupled with the rumbling ground, it was too much, and she lost her footing, losing her grip on Nemona’s arm and stumbling to the ground, the electric lantern clattering off somewhere.

“JULES!”

Nemona turned in a panic, dropping her weapon and her phone, but reached for Juliana to help her up. 

Juliana reached for her, just as the ground beneath Nemona’s feet opened up. She cried out for Juliana but Juliana couldn’t reach her in time, and she vanished just like Arven. 

“NO! You bastards!” She tried to climb to her feet and barely made it up, but stumbled almost immediately again.

When she slipped and fell, instead of striking hard ground, she sunk into a vast, inky blackness that pushed the wind from her lungs.

The night air was filled with jubilant howling.

Now alone by the fire, Penny cried,

“Guys?! Nemona? Juliana? Arven?”

She stood on shaky feet, knowing she was the last. She probably couldn’t do anything to get out of this mess, but she had to at least try.

She grabbed a stick by the fire, the big one Arven had been using as a fire poker, and set the tip on fire. She took a few slow, unsteady steps out into the fog, where she’d seen Nemona and Juliana disappear.

“N-none of you creeps better mess with me, I-I will cut you,” she stammered, waving the flaming stick in the darkness. The air around her seemed to grow heavy, and she realized it was quickly becoming harder and harder to see.

She started to cough. A foul stench filled her nostrils, and her eyes began to water. She cursed.

“Really? Smog? I’m going to die to Smog?”

She tried to escape the thick, gray smoke, but she was growing faint far too fast, and soon she’d dropped to the ground, the coughs wracking her body uncontrollably. She faded out of consciousness.

[demigodlunar]

Scars - Chapter 7

Oh man, it's been forever.... I promise I'm actually done with this story mostly I was just off tumblr haha

Chapter 7 - Valdez, Stop Stealing My Fire

Leo felt his ears ring when the hammer clanged down onto the piece of metal in front of him. 

He cursed when a spark from the metal fell on the exposed skin of his arm. Pain shot up his arm, but only faintly. Leo turned back to his creation, a mini metal centaur that shot arrows. 

It was supposed to be for the flies, but apparently Leo looked appetizing enough. When he clicked the button for it to turn on, it immediately betrayed him and started firing arrows everywhere, at godspeed. It fired its minuscule little arrows everywhere, and Leo hit the deck, but not without getting shot with at least 10 of those god-darned needles.

Leo tentatively stuck out his hand from under the table and tried to navigate uncharted territory. After getting stuck with about 10,000 arrows, he switched the mini-centaur off. 

He stood up, letting out a huff, and started picking needle-like arrows out of his skin when he heard a familiar crackling noise. He whimpered quietly and clenched his teeth.

Leo squeezed his eyes shut as a cold feeling of dread washed over him, and forbade himself from turning around and facing the fireplace. But of course, Leo’s self-restraint showed absolutely no boundaries, and he turned around, letting his eyes snap open. 

Miraculously, one of the arrows had struck the on-button for the fireplace spot on and had created a small flame in the little groove.

But Leo didn’t care for the near-impossible statistics of turning on this fatal fire. No, this itty bitty flame had Leo under a trance, and he inched closer and closer to the fireplace, reaching his hand out hesitantly. 

The rational side of his brain was screaming at him to stop and take control of his body, but the searing fire was drowning the warnings out. 

Just a little more. Leo’s fingers barely grazed the licking flame. 

So close.

~~~~~~~~~~

Leonidas Valdez was diagnosed as a pyromaniac.

It was not something he went around telling people proudly. And it all started when Leo was 6.

His best friend, Piper Mclean, had just left after one of their play-dates. His mother had waited patiently for Piper to leave, and then seemed really anxious to get what she was about to do, over with.

She sat him down and lectured him about staying true to oneself, and she told him that she loved him.

Leo returned the sentiment with confusion. Esperanza Valdez was never so… jumpy. It was only later that Leo understood why.

They were just locking up their small garage, and it was really late because they were held back by an urgent customer. Leo and his mother were just laughing and having fun when they heard a crash from the storage room of the garage.

Esperanza got a distant look in her eyes, and ushered Leo outside, giving him a flashlight and telling him to wait for her. 

And so he waited. And waited. And waited.

After half an hour or so, Leo started to grow concerned, and he tried to unlock the door to the garage, but it was locked. He pulled so hard that he fell onto his butt when he let go of the handle. Starting to panic, Leo tapped out a message in Morse code, at the same time yelling, asking if she was okay.

“She can’t hear you.” a drifting voice said, almost like it was asleep, “She can’t hear anything.”

Leo gasped and whirled around, facing a woman with earthy brown hair and sleepy green eyes. But she looked evil. With her black clothes and dark purple lipstick. She extended her hand towards Leo.

He shriveled away from her, and she gave him a tired grin. Stumbling back, Leo bumped into a wall and found a lighter in a hole in the wall. Not even bothering to wonder where it came from, he grabbed it and lighted it, pointing it threateningly to the woman.

“D-don’t come any clo-closer!” he said, voice trembling, and flinched back when the woman took another step at him. 

“You need not worry, young boy,” she drawled, “I won’t be doing anything to you. Yet. For it's not your time.”

Then she grinned wickedly, “It is, however, time enough for your traitor of a mother!”

Leo saw the blow coming but was helpless to stop it. It wasn’t even the lady, but an unknown person connecting their first with the side of Leo’s head. He lost consciousness instantly.

When he woke, there were sirens all around him. The woman, gone. The mysterious helper, gone. The garage, gone.

The policeman with the gruff voice informed him that the garage was burned down, with his mother still inside. What hit Leo when he was down was what they said after:

“And you did it.”

They had no filter. They didn’t bother to sugarcoat a story for a 6-year-old and instead told him that he killed his own mother. 

Leo was sent to a foster home, for none of his so-called “family” wanted anything to do with a killer. And he ran away. Many, many times he ran, but they always found him and brought him to a new couple who didn’t want a psychotic Latino boy. It was the same for two long years.

Then his father appeared. Out of nowhere, apparently. 

Leo was a bit wary, Hephaestus Valdez was never there for the first eight years of his only son’s life. Leo gave him the cold shoulder for the first couple months, but then realized that he should be grateful that his father even wanted him.

They’ve coexisted peacefully since then, and it was nice for Leo to have an actual parental figure in his life. As a plus, it was his real dad, not some rando with sickly sweet smiles and their stupid candy boxes.

The only problem: his father worked in a forge. 

A forge meant fire. And when Leo was first shown fire since the incident, he was weirdly attracted to it. There was no explanation, he just wanted to feel the element that killed his mother.

Hephaestus looked away for one second, and that was when Leo struck. After getting rushed to the hospital, the doctor looked at him with pity and told him and his father that he was a pyromaniac. 

Since then, Hephaestus tried his hardest to keep Leo away from fire, but there were always ways. Leo had burn marks all across his arms, ranging from small to severe, running up his arm and onto his shoulder. So now he had a legitimate excuse for not changing into short-sleeved P.E. clothes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hephaestus walked into the room, grumbling about teenage boys being too loud for their own good, and was about to ask what the heck had happened when he soaked in the scene before him.

The blood drained from his face, and he rushed forward, grabbing Leo’s arm and furiously patted out the fire before it could get any worse. 

Leo’s distant eyes cleared, surveyed his arm, and said: “Oh.”

His father rolled his eyes, and spoke in a gruff voice, “C’mon son, it's about time we paid another visit to the doctor.”

Leo bobbed his head in agreement, and they made their way to the hospital for the third time that week. He was getting better, it was usually five times a week.

When they got to the front desk, the clerk looked up for a blink of a second, and said: “Doctor Solace is free right now, go to room E-56 please.”

Yeah, yeah, the desk clerk at the hospital knowing him definitely doesn't earn Leo any brownie points, but it is what it is. They walked down the sterile smelling, boring white hall to their designated room, and went in.

Doctor Apollo Solace was sitting at the desk, eating an apple, and jerked out of the seat when they walked in. You know what they say: An apple a day keeps the doctor healthy. Wait, that’s not it… Leo shook his head. Darn ADHD.

Apollo clicked off his computer screen hastily, and said, “I definitely was not playing Candy Crush. What can I do for you, Hephy?”

Hephaestus snorted, “You play Candy Crush? Don’t call me Hephy. Also, we're here for Leo. Again.”

Apollo’s blue eyes darkened, “I thought I told you to stay away from fire, Leo.”

Leo hopped onto the hospital bed, and shrugged, “I can’t exactly avoid an element of the world forever, you know.” “I know that, but you could at least try to avoid it for a week at a time.”

This time, it was Hephaestus who responded: “If you can’t remember, Apollo, we work in a forge.”

Apollo waved him away as he got to work with ointments to treat Leo’s burns. The fact that Hephaestus and Apollo both were pretty good friends personally, it meant free check ups whenever they wanted -needed- it.

“Leo, your soulmate ain’t gonna be happy when she or he realizes that you flirt with fire.” Apollo chuckled, and Leo winced.

“Actually… I don’t have a soulmate.”

And it was true, he didn’t have a soulmate tattoo. And whenever his friends would look at him with sympathy in their eyes, Leo would joke it off and pretend he didn’t care. But he did care. 

All he ever wanted is to have someone to love. 

Someone who would love him.

~~~

It's good to be back!

-Blossom ;)

[winterapocalypse]

Winter Apocalypse

Chapter 53: After-party

It would have been class time, but none of the kids were in class having some boring magic lesson. They were all lying in the garden, or locked in their common rooms. That day was a festive one, because the Intercontinental team would be performing that afternoon!

The big party in the Slytherin common room the previous night, however, had left its effects on the boys who had taken part.

Dennis, Aegon, Shireen, Rhea and Loras, with large shopping bags from Omega Mart in their hands, had just landed their flying brooms in the garden, in front of the large group of friends of which they were part, and of which they were the younger members.

Aston, dark circles under her eyes visible even under her dark blue sunglasses and a hand pressed to her pale forehead, had sent the three Ravenclaws and the two Slytherins on a bizarre shopping spree: bottled deodorant with the essence of whale vocal cords, extra virgin water without hydrogen dioxide, a whole pack of copper buttons, and they even had to stop by Undertaker's creepy shack to get some root he grew, embarrassingly big and bulbous and disgusting.

“What the fuck did you make us bring this crap here for?” Dennis began, very angry. It was cold that day, and he had to steal a long blue jacket with idiotic diamonds from his older brother, but it was so big that it trailed on the ground like a cloak over his shoulders. His shirt with holes in it and his trousers, with tears so wide that he had to wear a pair of tights underneath him so as not to appear to be in his underwear, did not hold up well to the cold of the Northern winter of Winter Hogwarts. But they were very fashionable!

Aston almost smiled at him, sitting on the outside window sill of Yi Ti's Astrology classroom, along with just a few of her group of friends - Seamus with his purple face and split nose, Cesaro with his glitter jacket on backwards, the Hardy brothers with bruises everywhere, Edge and Christian leaning on each other very tired, Emily who looked just a little less fresh than ever and, worst of all, Eddie and Riddle.

Eddie seemed more upset emotionally than physically, and Riddle the opposite. He was hunched over, his hands in his long blond hair and his gaze on the ground. Beric was by Aston's side as always but he didn't seem to have suffered anything from the previous night, probably because he hadn't been there.

Theon still had a bottle of butterbeer in his hand, and Renly had turned in disgust to see Theon still wanting to drink alcohol after getting too drunk the previous night, his braid all in disarray as if he hadn't even let his hair down and combed it- strange for him, who loved her long black hair so much.

Rhea, who was the strongest of the group of third and fourth years sent to refuel, was carrying two bags full of rubbish, and she also seemed the most nervous. "This stuff stinks." the Ulthos girl said angrily, wrinkling her nose and making a face with her black lipstick. Loras, impeccably dressed as usual with well-combed, soft light brown hair and a coat embroidered with golden roses that reached down to his knees, almost threw the bag towards the group, but no one caught it. She ended up in the snow, at Aston's feet. "Don't throw things! What if she ran into Aston? She would get hurt!" Beric shouted stiffly and annoyed at Loras, while Aston mimed giving him a slap. "Shut up, or I'll bury you upside down and ass up like Undertaker's chickens." she growled.

"Now you'll find out, right Aston?" Cesaro replied, sunny as always but with a crooked and tired smile. He had a cut on his bald head caused by a fall the day before, and he was holding a take-away coffee from Batista's Bar, which had been empty for some time now.

The four boys unloaded the stuff they had bought with Aston's money in front of the feet of the red-haired girl, who was wearing a short holographic diamond-patterned jacket trimmed with fur and heavy black jeans with a holographic border on the side as well, and boots with holographic diamonds like the jacket. It was strangely cold in Winter Hogwarts that day.

Aston grabbed her younger brother by the wrist, dragging him towards him.

"I'll explain it to you now, Denny, come here." and she violently made him sit on her legs, even though he seemed really against the matter. "You've grown up, huh?" said Aston, strangely condescending to her younger brother, with whom she almost always teased. Dennis, in fact, was not convinced. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he muttered unsurely.

Aston ruffled his hair, which had been dyed an annoyingly bright red that day, and before Dennis knew anything was wrong, she pulled out a lock of his hair. The boy jumped up screaming, both in pain and in fright.

"Your dye is based on Realgar, and is used in the potion." The older sister continued, as a very low-energy laugh arose from the hungover group.

"What potion?" Shireen asked, curious. She was a nerd, so as soon as we talked about new potions or magic that she didn't know, she forgot all the shyness that usually characterized her and became a little intrusive, even if in a tender way.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[savorysatori]

— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.