#like every other word he gotta be all ‘wait hang on a second….’

[xxplastic-cubexx]

that last ask got me thinking about erik hugs and..... like...... can you imagine?? like kids on krakoa canonically fucking ADORED him, imagine them all lining up for magneto bear hugs and him obliging because he can’t say no to the kiddos, that’s the dream

Ill throw up crying you stop right there

Just tryna imagine him tryna have a serious convo with someone but he gotta stop every three seconds to carry a kid for a minute ……

[wonryllis]

HER VANILLA GREED (M) park sunghoon.

❛ 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝖾'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌.

featuring. enemy!park sunghoon who gets a taste of you and now he can't get enough, consumed with greed that can never be satiated─ albeit barely just quenched for a while. directory?

warnings. smut!! kinda dom!sunghoon feeling crazy. enemies pouncing on e/o, prn with bits of plot, rough sex, unprotected (wrap your willy pls), swearing, mentions of multiple acts.

part of, hold your breath event. prompts include “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” & fucking someone so good that they struggle to kiss you back. ( wordcount, 944. )

JZLYN notes ╱ hope y'all enjoy it! & if you do please leave comments & feedbacks it keeps me going! & lastly please reblog!!

you loved vanilla and sunghoon loved your vanilla.

it's uncharacteristic of him to feel this way for his enemy, definitely; but after that one time he ate you out for a heated game of dare or drink, he has just gotten addicted. so so addicted that every time he catches a glimpse of you around the house he cannot help imagining the taste of you on his tongue, the waft of your scent dancing edges on him.

it was an accident─ a one time mistake if he may say. and how it turned into a regular thing? he has no recollection of it. the only thing he remembers are the spontaneous blowjobs in the kitchen to imprudently eating you out on the couch at any given chance you both got. which is whenever considering you live together.

oral had been the go to, for the past two months. no matter how turned on you both got, you just never threaded that line of linking more closely. making out and grinding against each other, sliding his cock against your panty clad pussy, jerking him off while he fingerfucked you; moaning into each other's mouth as you finished. but never hitting it in.

but tonight something changed─ something triggered.

a night together at one of the newly opened bars downtown. shots of alcohol in your systems and raging jealousy at others pawing for your attention away from each other. it was mutual, the way you both grew desperate and covetous. like you owned the other, your prized─ no, unwarranted possession.

“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” sunghoon rasps as he slides in, inch by inch, breath by breath. calloused hands gripping the tender skin of your waist, holding you up and pulling you closer by your hips. your legs wrapped around him like a cage of lust.

the veins in his cock throb with your warm cunt engulfing him. tight, slick─ and fuck it's full of your vanilla smearing all over his throbbing and twitching length.

mind a big mush, sweating dripping along sunghhon’s silver chain dangling between your thighs as he bottoms out. hissing out a line of curses at the feeling, his grip on you tightening.

“god your pussy’s insane─ can't believe ‘was gonna miss out on this,” sunghoon mutters out in a hushed whisper, words tumbling out in a single breath as he tries to compose himself. but it's so hard. his cock is so hard and keeping himself from completely ravaging you for his pleasure is making it even harder.

the sight of you is criminally arousing. your hands clutching at sheets above your head, dress tugged down and barely hanging low above your hips. skin flushed with sweat and your breaths coming out in soft anticipating gasps while you wait for him to start moving. it's atrocious how he does not feel disgusted at the even the glimpse of his enemy laying bare and inviting and with his cock inside her.

“park, move─” you let out a demanding whine. wiggling your hips against his balls in a futile attempt with his hands holding you still.

“you don't gotta tell me,” it does not take him a second to start thrusting. pulling all the way out till the tip and pushing back in a rough, brutal and almost hurtfully bruising smack. it's always been annoying to hear you call him ‘park’ instead of his name, triggering irritation above all. but something about the way it slips and rolls off your pretty little pink tongue right now just turns him on so bad, it's sickeningly annoying. it's sickeningly lewd.

sunghoon's pace gradually increases along with his sheer desperation to somehow want you more and more even when he's balls deep in you and painfully holding in the bursts of cum threatening to gush out amid each thrust.

his hands move to cup your cheeks, squeezing your lips into a pucker before he leans down to devour them in a messy and sloppy kiss. one that you can barely keep up with. mouth falling open in wild moans and your back arching so prettily into him, he can feel the hair on your skin standing, the slight trembles passing over you and heat emanating off in quick shivers.

it drives him crazy. your drooling reflection in his eyes as he pulls away to get off at the view of you struggling to remain lucid. his thumb skimming onto your wet glossed lips and smearing it over to your cheek.

you stick your tongue out at his touch, eyes closed in a sensual lick against his fingers and sunghoon loses it. grabbing your hair to tug your head back as he starts pounding into you, crazed and frantic.

“fuck─ why do you have to be so goddamn hot, fuck fuck fuck─ this is─ fuck─ ridiculous.” he grunts out in shuddering and shaky breaths. his head thrown back and mouth fallen open alike. he still cannot believe he's fucking you, and absolutely not how fucking sinfully good it feels. his enemy and roommate, two no-zones: crossed at once. and if that was not enough already, he did not have the patience to slip on a condom. and fuck does it feel like you'll milk him out dry.

“shit i can't stand looking at you─ you're gonna make me cum so fast,” each drag, each glide so torturously pleasurable.

“then cum. fill me up,” you mumble out, managing to graze your fingers along his chest and down to his lower abs. sunghoon groans at those words, his stomach churning and clenching up at the sensations.

he's gonna turn your vanilla into vanilla whipped cream he swears.

reg taglist. @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp @laylasbunbunny @riribelle @ancnymcnzjy

event taglist. @sickntrd @matchacake2 @heebear @lostwonderwall @sunshine-skz @engenesengenes333 @soobheehoon @isagistar @heesky @jaeyungxrl

[eufezco]

MOONY'S BACK! 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

marauder!remus lupin x slytherin!reader

synopsis — remus returns from his first date with you, a slytherin girl, and has to face his friends’ teasing in the common room.

fluff

remus entered the gryffindor common room.

he felt his heart beating harder than usual and his nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold air—and perhaps something more. the fire crackled softly in the hearth. before going in, remus knew the common room won't be empty. his friends had been insufferably annoying all week about this day and remus had a feeling they’d been waiting for him to return.

and sure enough, they were there. sirius lounged across the armchair closest to the fire, his legs draped over one arm and his head resting against the other. james was seated on the couch, reading a copy of quidditch weekly, while lily was resting against his body, with her head on his chest. peter was lying on the floor talking to her.

—moony's back! —peter announced. not even a second after remus set a foot into the common room. the moment those words left peter’s mouth, james, lily and sirius jumped from their seats.

—oh he's cheeks are more red than his gryffindor scarf!

remus touched them with the back of his hand as he took off his coat and scarf and left them hanging on a chair. —it's because of the snow outside.

—yeah, sure it's not because of that slytherin girl.

—did she kissed you? —peter asked straight up.

remus cheeks grew even hotter but he didn't answer to the question.

—you gotta tell us everything, moony! come on!

lily dragged him next to the fireplace and forced him to sit on the rug.

—is it really necessary? —remus asked, dying of embarrassment as he glanced up at his friends, who were eagerly looking back at him. james and sirius went back to sit on the couch, lily and peter were sitting in front of him on the floor.

—of course, it is! —lily said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

—oh, come on, moony, we’re all dying here, we've been waiting all afternoon. we just want to know how the date of the century went.

remus rolled his eyes at sirius words.

james decided that it was his time to join sirius' teasing. —yeah, and with a slytherin girl, no less. did she try to hex you? or, i dunno, bite you?

—good question, prongs. did she call you a blood traitor between compliments?

lily let out a dramatic sigh, giving them a sharp look. —you two are absolutely insufferable, —she said and turned back to remus, her voice softening. —don’t listen to them. they’re just jealous you had an actual date.

—she didn’t hex me, bite me, or called me a blood traitor, alright? she was perfectly nice and we had a great time —. remus stated. james and sirius huffed a laugh.

—a great time is suspiciously vague. care to elaborate?

remus played with his hands, the heat coming back to his cheeks when he started to remember everything.

—did she like the flowers, remus? —peter asked with excitement.

remus stood at the door of the castle, waiting for you. every time he looked at the bouquet in his hands, the wildflowers he carefully picked himself, he felt a little ridiculous. maybe it was too much for a first date. what if you thought it was silly? or worse, what if you didn’t like flowers at all? what if you were allergic to flowers? —flowers, moony? bold move. what’s next, planning the wedding? he shouldn't have told james and sirius. they spent the whole morning teasing him, and now their words were stuck on repeat in his mind. but peter told him it was a good idea, you were always so focused in herbology so you'd most likely loved them. in the middle of all the overthinking, remus heard the soft sound of footsteps on stone. he looked up, and there you were, walking down the stair with a shy but bright smile. your heart beat faster after seeing remus and you had to focus on the stairs, the last thing you wanted was to trip and make a fool of yourself in front of him. still, you only could think about how sweet he looked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. —hi —you said, your voice a little breathless but smiling. —hi —he replied. remus held out the bouquet. —these are for you. i thought you might like them. your eyes fell to the flowers. it was a careful mix of pinks, yellows and whites. the gesture made your chest ache in the best way because you know that he picked them himself for you. —they’re beautiful, —you said, your fingers brushing his as you took them. —thank you, remus. i love them.

—yes! i knew she'd love them —. peter said, triumphant.

—tell us, moony, did you hold her hand?

—padfoot, the audacity! —james gasped dramatically. —you held her hand on the first date, moony? i don't know who you are anymore!

remus rolled his eyes while he rubbed his hands, brushing over his thick scars. he tried not to hold your hand, not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew you’d notice the scars. and though he knew you weren’t the kind of person to say anything unkind, the thought of you touching them, of you asking about them, made his stomach twist.

to avoid falling in the snow, you had hooked your arm in remus'. you were laughing, your boots crunching through the snow, the conversation had flowed easily as always happened between you two. you were so comfortable in his presence that you didn't even realize that your hand began to slide down his arm, fingers tracing along the thick fabric of his coat until they slipped into his, curling naturally around his hand. when you glanced up at him, his cheeks were red but his lips curved into a shy smile. remus didn’t pull away. if anything, his hand tightened around yours. the scars on his hands didn’t matter to you. you noticed them long ago, during one of those afternoons in the library when the two of you studied together. he was flipping through the pages of a book and you saw them. it wasn’t hard to tell that he was self-conscious about them, he always wore the longest sweaters, ones that hung just past his wrists and sometimes even covered all his hands. that’s why you never asked him about it, except when you noticed some fresh ones, you couldn't help but ask him if he was okay.

—she was the one who held your hand! —james repeated. —moony, i think this girls wants to marry you.

—we’ll start planning the wedding now. peter, you can handle the flowers, moony’s already set the tone with that bouquet.

and they all laughed, even lily, who usually rolled her eyes at sirius and james’s relentless teasing, and remus, who usually found himself the victim of their jokes, couldn’t help but crack a smile.

—but come on, keep telling us!

—well, we walked to hogsmeade and we first visited some bookstores. she loves reading, she was so excited, practically dragging me around the place to show me her favorite sections and i had no complaints, as you can imagine.

james and sirius exchanged a look in disbelief and for once, neither of them could think of something to say. they had never seen their friend remus like this.

it wasn’t that girls hadn’t shown interest in him before, they had. but remus had always been polite, reserved, never letting things go past a conversation about books or classwork. he’d keep his distance, waving them hi in the corridors, showing them shy smiles, remembering their names, listening when they spoke, even sharing his notes if they needed help.

but dating? that had always seemed beyond him. it was complicated, messy, and exposed.

—merlin’s beard, —sirius murmured not wanting to interrupt remus who kept talking about you. sirius glanced at james with wide eyes. —she’s breaking down his walls.

james nodded slowly, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. —and he’s letting her.

the moment you turned the corner, your eyes landed on the familiar wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, your favorite bookstore. it was small, away from the main street of hogsmeade, often closed when you visited, as if it only opened for those who truly needed it. you gasped, catching your breath in surprise. —it’s open! and he didn’t resist, letting you drag him toward the door. remus could immediately see why you liked the store so much, it was cozy, small but inviting, and it smelled like coffee and wood. run by an elderly woman who greeted you both as you entered, she gave you a knowing nod, as though she’d seen your excitement countless times before. —it's good that you've finally brought your boyfriend here. a handsome gryffindor boy, no less, welcome dear. remus froze for a split second, his cheeks hot red. —oh, i... um... —he looked at you for help. you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, though your own cheeks felt a little warm. —he’s not my... —you started, but the old woman waved you off with a twinkle in her eye. —no need to explain, dear, you don’t have to tell an old woman what’s plain to see —. she winked at you both before turning back to her counter. you nudged him playfully. —don’t worry, she says things like that to everyone. probably —remus gave you a skeptical look but couldn’t help smiling as he let you lead him deeper into the shop.

of course, he didn't tell his friends about this, he didn't even want to think about how much james and sirius would tease him.

remus continued talking about you. lily looked at him closely, wanting to know everything he could tell her about you. —she has good taste in books, she recommended me one about history of magic, she says it will make that class more interesting and help me pay more attention.

—that's so sweet of her. she noticed that you zone out during history of magic —. a sweet giggle escaped lily's lips.

remus rubbed the back of his neck. —yeah, i guess it’s not exactly a secret. —he shook his head, he didn't want to talk about history of magic right now, he wanted to keep talking about you. —then we went to the three broomstick.

—let me guess, she ordered something weird, like firewhisky, and you had to pretend to be cool with it?

remus rolled his eyes. —no, sirius. she ordered butterbeer, like a normal person.

—remus, you two seem to be very comfortable around each other —lily said, her tone innocent, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. —there had to be a kiss.

sirius and james shared a look, they seemed genuinely surprised by lily’s boldness but they didn't say anything because they were more interested in remus' answer. the heat of his cheeks spread all the way up to his ears. james’s eyes widened as he caught remus’s expression. —so there was a kiss! —he exclaimed, pointing a finger at him like he’d just solved a mystery.

—do we really need to talk about this?

—yes! —all four of them said in unison.

you sat across from remus, the soft light from the lanterns of the three broomsticks lightened his face with a soft glow. it caught the silvery scars that lined his cheek, making them shimmer faintly, though he seemed oblivious to it. a single butterbeer sat between you, the two of you had been sharing it. you pointed at the corner of remus’s mouth. —oh, you have something, —you said, gesturing to the spot. —where? —he asked, looking confused as he swiped at his mouth. —no, it’s more to the... —you leaned over the table. —here, let me. you reached out and used your thumb to gently wipe away the trace of butterbeer at the corner of his lips. the moment leaned in closer, just a few inches apart now, his golden-brown eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he looked at you. you closed the gap, your lips brushed his in a sweet kiss. remus froze for a moment but then he closed his eyes and melted into it. when you pulled back, his cheeks were pink, his expression soft as he said —you, um... you missed a spot. you laughed, your own cheeks warm as you sat back down. —i’ll get it next time.

the room went silent for a beat. peter sat there thinking, confusion spreading across his face. james was the one who broke the silence as he threw his head back, laughing. —that’s brilliant! the old ‘you’ve got something on your face’ trick.

peter was still confused. sirius shook his head. —she’s bold. i like her.

lily was smiling warmly. —i think it’s cute, —she said. —clearly, she’s not afraid to show how she feels.

peter’s eyes widened and he gasped as the realization hit him. —so she kissed you twice! —he exclaimed.

sirius groaned. it was working just fine, they were all surprised that remus had told them about another kiss and not the one they had seen from the common room, but they handled it just fine and knew how to hide it, all except peter. sirius threw one of the pillows at him. —you idiot!

remus frowned, it was true that you kissed him twice but how could peter possibly know that? —you spied on us?!

—spied is a strong word —. james said.

peter lifted his arms defensively, ducking as another pillow came flying his way. —no, not spy! we just… saw you two walking back to the castle. by accident! while we were… uh, checking the weather.

james smirked, leaning back in his seat. —exactly and that second kiss? didn’t think you were that much taller than her, moony, but there she was, standing on her tiptoes in the snow. pretty romantic, actually.

remus was mortified.

you walked arm in arm with remus back to the castle, his presence keeping you warm enough from the cold weather outside. the date went better than you ever could have imagined. remus was charming, thoughtful, and surprisingly funny. every moment with him felt genuine, like the two of you existed in a bubble where nothing else mattered. as you neared the castle, you found yourself thinking about how you didn't want the evening to end. you stopped face to face, you had to say goodbye but the words didn't come out of any of yours mouth. you didnt want it to end. remus stood there, his hands awkwardly tucked into the pockets of his coat, his gaze flickering between your face and the ground. —well... —you both said at the same time. —see you tomorrow in class. you nodded. —yeah, see you tomorrow —. your arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. his arms slowly went around your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer. when you pulled back from the hug, the space between you was closer, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on your lips. your heart beat faster in your chest, and before either of you could think too much about it, you stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, pressing your lips to his one more time. remus took his hands out of his pockets to hold your face and yours pressed against his chest. when you finally pulled away, the smile on remus’s face told you everything you needed to know. —see you tomorrow, then? —you whispered softly, still a little dazed from the kiss. he nodded, his smile never fading. —yeah. tomorrow.

—and you should be grateful that i didn't let them use the invisibility cloak —. lily added.

remus groaned, dragging his hands down his face. —grateful? you’ve got to be joking.

lily's expression softened as she leaned forward. —but seriously, remus, it sounds like it was a nice date. it’s good to see you happy.

—yeah, it was great seeing that slytherin trying to suck your soul and you gladly letting her do it.

lily gave sirius a sharp look, but even she couldn't suppress a small smile at his teasing. remus, however, looked like he might die of embarrassment as he buried his face in his hands again.

—i'm so done with this conversation —. remus added as he stood up from the floor. he wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible so that tomorrow he would arrive earlier.

james just grinned. —you can’t stop now, moony. we’ve just started.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

If requests are still open could I possibly get a fic about yuu getting boyfriends. Specifically that cute octavinelle boy or Jonathan, awh just dealing with nrcs crap and then come home to 2 cuties

Yuu and their Ugly Ass NPC S/O

I made a buncha random NPCs based on random Disney characters I hope you can tell who is who. GN, 2.7k words.

****

Yuu was the school heartthrob. How could they not be? 

They were kind, considerate And confident! They always stood up for others and themselves. I mean, they even beat several people’s asses — dormleaders even!

They're attractive and talented and smart too. Always so hardworking. It's a bit intimidating how a magicless human can keep up with a bunch of unruly mages.

Even the most tsundere students admire Yuu. Despite what the students said, a simple, kind-hearted and relaxed person was stronger than the lot of them. Something the students yearn for. A nice break from everyone's dog eat dog mentality.

Their charming laughter, their smarts, their strength… The way they smile… Their gentleness… The way they hold themselves…

So many people were vying for their affections, their attention… Waiting for the perfect moment to ask you out...

Can you imagine their surprise when you found love with a nobody?

Heartslabyul

Hatter?! Really?? That absolute kook??

He's so weird! Wears way too many hats and loves making them. His infatuation with them makes Trey's dental obsession normal in comparison.

Ace would have preferred it if you dated Riddle honestly. He can at least understand that. Also can everyone stop remarking how similar they are?! They aren't! He's normal and Hatter is weird!

Your relationship is none of Riddle’s business but he hopes Hatter’s eccentricities don't rub off on you too much. He knows how to find loopholes in every rule so he can dabble in his own insanity it's infuriating. You better not follow his example! Seriously he thought half a cup of tea meant he had to saw a teacup in half!

Deuce is happy for you! I mean at least you'll never get bored with Hatter around and his usual laughter. It is like having a second Ace around though…

Cater finds all the matching accessories he makes for the two of you so cute but he loves the drama in the school even more. Perfect romance novel Yuu with the class clown troublemaker… He's surprised you didn't get with Ace…

Trey is just happy for the two of you. You want someone zany to unwind with after a long day of having your shit together. He gets it. You two are a good fit. He hopes you can both have fun. Oh and can you ask Hatter to fix up his hat? It got a little frayed… thank you…

The school is in shock, horror, watching as Hatter is giggling and hanging off Yuu as they walk down the hall totally lovestruck. He's totally mad! Yet you love him! All of the perfect straight A students fall to their knees as they realize they're too put together for you.

What Trey surmised was right however. You always have to be your very best every day. Always be the voice of reason, always fix others’ mistakes, always set an example. 

With Hatter the stress melts away, replaced by wacky activities and childish fun. It's great to be able to drop the perfect student's expectations and be a little immature…

Savanaclaw

That dumb tiger Cheren? 

I mean he's a very nice guy. Tall, muscular, sporty… but a total idiot… 

He goes on and on about The Jungle Tiger of his people and how he's gonna be just as strong as him someday and how he's gotta work harder and there you are kicking your feet for him.

Your circle already has three idiots in it and now you're dating one? Leona remarks it seems you have a type.

He's pure muscle-y sunshine, always trying to help others…

If you liked naive goody two shoes boys so much you should have gone to RSA. Still, Ruggie supposes it's cute…

Funny even, watching you lecture him after he tried to smell sand by inhaling it. Oh poor poor Yuu, Ruggie shakes his head, you always make more work for yourself.

He and Jack are pretty similar. Work out partners even. He can admit first hand that your lover is most likely the strongest physically in the dorm and he's gonna surpass him some day!

There's times where your dates with the tiger are interrupted when you bump into Jack and the two end up challenging each other, throwing off your plans.

Not that you mind though as you get to admire his body and competitive spirit as he constantly looks over for your approval doing his best to impress you.

Jack will admit… It does feel a little weird how similar they are at times… Is he your type…? Huh…

You don't care what they say though. What they don't see is how much your boyfriend helps you behind the scenes. Helping you relax after a long day or checking up on you after school drama or how he plays seems to cheer you up.

Tutoring him and making sure people don't take advantage of his kindness is not the burden people think it is. It's an act of love. And you love your dear himbo tiger boy.

All of the muscleheads in Savanaclaw seethe… They just needed to be a bit stupider.

Octavinelle 

I'm sorry you have two lovers?? Twins??? The STINGRAYS??? CLAUD AND DARREN?

That was the exact reaction of everyone in the school when they heard news but especially Azul.

Your taste in men has to be a form of self harm, Prefect they swear—

They're just so… weird…

The kind of creepy twins in every horror movie. Always together. Always seems to read each other's mind. Holding hands in hallways. Always in sync. Finishing sentences. Matching smirks with empty eyes. The whole shebang.

And there you are! So kind and cool and just… you! You can fight yes, but unlike the Leech twins rumors, everyone is in agreement that those two have killed before. Look at them!! 

Do you have any self-preservation skills, Yuu? Are you safe? Blink twice if you need help, Jade says, he'll even do it free of charge. Hell, Azul’s gonna send his own twins over for a wellness check soon.

Is the shrimpy into scary twins? This is just perfect teasing material for Floyd. If you liked scary twins you could have at least asked them out or something. Those two just seem so… boring…

So secretive and polite-acting with all their fully thought out schemes– Where's the flavor?! Jade is in agreement. At least he and Floyd have distinct personalities.

Azul is just very baffled. Good for you Prefect but have you thought this through…? It's just you're the typical perfect crush people write in their diaries about and you're with them? It's oddly intimidating. Is there more to you he doesn't know?

A total powermove to have two scary boyfriends in this damned place. Despite all the rumors though, the two love you with their full hearts and are happy sharing. They both take such good care of you and no one bothers to take the time to get to know them.

They are both so vastly different yet similar. Mischievous and kind. The rumors mean nothing to you when they've been your number one supporters through the school year. Sides, if anyone upsets you they'll take care of it…

Scarabia

Ibadat?? The total birdbrain? Okay, yeah, seems you do have a type for cocky idiots given your friend group. 

The parrot is a very confident, extroverted personality with a bit of a mischievous streak… a real chatterbox and never thinks before he does anything. 

He is a bit of a scatterbrain and tends to get wrapped in so many things at once, yet is a very good schemer…

Jamil doesn't have any strong feelings about it. You're happy. That's all that matters. However he does like that since you’ve been dating him he causes less trouble in his dorm now. He can just go to you and ask him to sort him out.

Kalim finds it sooooo cute however and seems to be more excited for your relationship than either of you. A magic carpet is one thing– but being carried and flown around??? That's so much more romantic!

Students are flabbergasted on how you would want someone so forgettable as him. He barely stands out from most of the other students here… Doesn't seem to have any major achievements either.

What they don't see is the bird that takes out some of his feathers to decorate you with when you mention not having any special clothes. They don't see the praises he gives you. The lectures you receive when you push yourself too hard. The confidence he instills in you. The way he does all he can for you, always at your beck and call.

He never lets you doubt yourself for a second and you never doubt him either. 

Pomefiore

Raven… ah…

An interesting one at least. They are always a bit of an enigma among most students. Fashionable, beautiful, confident, yet mysterious. One of the best alchemy students in the school.

It should be no surprise that two beautiful and accomplished people get together, so why was it a surprise?

Well not one person can name anything they know about Raven. They hold themselves high, yet shy away from others. They are so prominent yet elusive. You may see them roam the halls yet never know where they go. They are elegant, yet have the most animated expressions. 

Does anyone even know their favorite food? Favorite color? Has anyone even heard them speak?? Why do they have so many oddities on them at any given time?

Vil doesn't care at all about the rumors. As housewarden, he checks over all of his dormmates. The birdfolk preens themselves well. They have good hygiene, good confidence, good grasp of their identity and who they are, and they're hard working!

He's never had to lecture or guide them once. With their attention to detail they always seem to notice what he expects without him having to say it either. So what they keep to themself? Eveyones allowed their privacy.

Rook is almost jealous. You get to understand the most mysterious student on campus? The one that captured their heart? You get to see them behind closed doors and know them on a personal level. Maybe even hear them speak if they do at all? Oh, how he longs to uncover their many mysteries himself… Ah, but what a beautiful love story! The trust, the passion. He is rooting for both of you. 

Epel doesn't trust it one bit. Nope. Nuh uh. Sorry.

No one even knows what they get for lunch. They strut down hallways with all eyes on them yet are quick to flee when spoken to? They are seen all across campus yet no one knows any one place they frequent? And they alway suck up to Vil like ugh!

They're bad news Yuu! No one good has that many secrets! The campus all agrees and it's totally not ‘cause they're salty!

Fools. If only they knew how sweet they were. All those times they saw Raven ‘wandering’ was them making their way to you. All those trinkets were offerings of courtship. The place where they disappear to is your dorm.

They're confident because they know they're talented. They flaunt because they're beautiful. People just want to pick them apart and know everything about them for the sake of their curiosity and not because they care, unlike you who doesn't expect anything out of them. Why wouldn't they open up to you?

The Fair Queen was said to have a raven that accompanied her everywhere she went, staying by her side matter what. They intend to show you how deep the loyalty of a raven goes. 

Ignihyde

FEAR???

Idia never thought he'd meet anyone more socially awkward than him. Fear leaves his room less than him!

The imp-man always looks like he's on the verge of a panic attack, he shakes every step of the way, everywhere he goes, and he's known to not even get a few words out. He wasn't even on the roster, he's that distant!! He lives up to his name for sure.

Even when you walk down the hall with your boyfailure in hand no one believes for a second you're together. You're just being nice and helping him go out!

So many students refuse to believe you’re with him. They're better! They can easily impress you more than that imp! And Fear tells you they're right… Boo! Bad Fear! You're wonderful!

Seriously if Idia realized he had this much Of a chance he might have considered taking it…

Ortho as a first year has seen him a bit more since he's friends with you and likes him a lot! He and Idy would be friends!! 

Everyone doubts his capabilities and mind. Tearing down his appearance with his horns and messy clothes. 

You don't let anyone talk cruelly about him and give your group of first years THE scariest lecture of their life when they dare comment anything negative about him.

If people did pay attention they'd know that Fear would come out of his room a lot. Whether as a bird that flaps around campus or a stray that frequents the gardens.

It's not his fault he has a severe stutter. You were the only one who bothered to wait for him to finish his sentences, even when the simplest ones took minutes. You never made fun of him or even brought it up.

They don't see that he loves you to the point of invention. How he makes so many things to make your life a bit easier here. How he frets over you and listens to your worries. All the little animals he becomes to cheer you up or look out for you from afar. 

The people who put him down never had a chance with you to begin with.

Diasomnia

Griffon…? Who is that…? Wait, did that statue just move…?

It was only revealed when Malleus of all people met him first. He invited you to a late night stroll to show you some of the wonderful gargoyles his dormitory has.

He was so proud to show you this new gargoyle he only recently discovered here. As he rattled on about this interesting find you paused. “Wait, that's not just a gargoyle… Griffon???”

The gargoyle suddenly moved at the sound of your voice, yawning a bit. “Oh hey Yuu…” he said, reaching over to drape over you. 

“...a talking Gargoyle…?” Your lover? 

The school had a small storm overhead as Malleus pouted. You're telling him there was a gargoyle student here and you didn't tell him? When you know he likes gargoyles? How dare you! He's so betrayed for a bit but his attitude changes when he gets to talk to Griffon.

Not only are they a gargoyle– they're a descendant of the goon race. The very goons that worked under the thorn fairy and protected the castle with their lives! Why he's honored… he even joined his club too! And he says the other gargoyles on campus say good things about him!! He can talk to them?! Oh Yuu, he wishes nothing but the best for your relationship!!!

Lilia is surprised he didn't see them sooner! Just like the goons he knew. Honorably sticking to the shadows. They always watch over others and save their energy to put their all into whatever task they must do when needed– you are very lucky indeed.

Griffon makes Waka-sama happy so he approves fully! Furthermore, goons are very loyal to Briar Valley and he's so happy you're recognizing the glory of fae culture! He can tell you even more about it later!

Silver has a new napping buddy… Griffon’s always so tired, saving his energy for when he needs it most. When he's caught napping in the rain the gargoyle stands over him to shield him from it and get some much appreciated moisture.

Griffon guards the school. Perched high in every hallway, outside every building, every classroom he attends. He steps in when needed and that's how you both met someone who was giving you unnecessary trouble and the statue from above swooped down to intervene.

Students wonder how it even works out. He's asleep almost all the time. He doesn't do anything . Even when he's awake he's always tired. And he always gets in the way of the class fights to break them up! A real stick in the mud.

Though it is true he is always tired, he is willing to defy his own nature to stay awake enough to talk to you. He is happy to leave his perch to be with you as well. It is a goon’s job to protect what they love most dearly. You are exactly that.

[revasserium]

Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gold medal

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, volleyball player!reader, college au, established relationship, p in v sex, unprotected sex

“good luck out there baby.” rafe presses a kiss to your cheek before smirking. “not that you need it.”

“oh, stop.” you roll your eyes. sure, you're the favorite to win your states collegiate volleyball championship, but you're not discounting the other college.

“all aces for me, yeah?” rafe asks, hoping no one can manage to get a hand on your powerful serves.

“you know it.” you run your hands over rafes chest, admiring his jersey, knowing your name is on the back.

“im gonna be in the front row.” rafe says. he always is, your biggest supporter and number one fan, always traveling with you to your games no matter how far away they are.

“okay.” you turn to look at your team entering the locker room. “gotta go.”

“love you.” rafe presses his lips against yours, knowing that the next time he kisses you, he'll be kissing a state champion.

--

your heart beats fast, sweat dripping down your forehead. it's your last serve of the game. already a blowout, but you won't get ahead of yourself by celebrating too early.

you do your usual routine. bounce the ball three times. look up, find rafe in the crowd, back down, two more bounces, then up. your open hand makes contact with the ball, slamming it forward. it barely skirts over the net, so much power that a girl on the other team takes a step back to avoid it.

the ball hits the floor and the crowd erupts into cheers.

the front row, all of your teams closest family and friends, rushes onto the court. you ignore the clapping on the back from your teammates and their attempted hugs as you look for rafe.

“told ya.” you whip around at rafes voice, launching yourself into his arms.

“never had a doubt.” rafe holds you close, your arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders as he lifts you, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist.

“couldn't have done it without you.” you say. it sounds corny but it's true, rafe is such a constant that he's become part of your routine.

“y/n.” your back stiffens at the voice of your coach as you slide out of rafes arms, waiting for a scolding at the public display of affection, but her usual cold face is warm as she pulls you into a tight hug. “im proud of you.”

“thanks, coach.”

you look to rafe with surprise in your eyes, and he is equally shocked. “who knew all it would take to soften her was to win the state championship.” you roll your eyes before stepping back into rafes hold. it's all you want.

--

“no, no, no.” rafe says, slotting the ribbon back over your neck. “keep the medal on.”

you are completely naked except for the chunk of gold hanging from your neck, the image of a player spiking the ball over the net carved into it.

rafe moves you effortlessly, wanting to see your face as he angles you towards the mirror, kneeling behind you. his big hands run over your bum and then between your thighs, his fingers swiping through your folds.

“fuck me.” you whine out, making rafe swat at your ass, a silent warning that you know means to be patient.

rafe doesn't leave you waiting for long, it's your celebration after all. he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock in your cunt in one smooth and quick motion.

“oh god.” you moan out, eyes moving to meet rafes in the mirror, seeing the way his jaw drops as he moans.

“so warm and wet for me baby.” rafe says, hands swirling over your ass while he gives you a second to adjust, but he can't give you any longer than a moment as he begins to thrust.

your eyes roll back in your head as he pounds into you. as much as rafe likes teasing and drawing your lovemaking out, he needs to properly congratulate you and bring you to your high.

the medal is swinging as your body moves with every powerful thrust, the slick sounds of rafe entering your pussy spreading around the hotel room.

“that's my girl, let me hear you moan.” rafe doesn't care that your team is in every room on this floor of the hotel, certainly they won't judge you for celebrating.

you let your voice free, moans starting out softly before they grow with every pump of rafes hips, his cock hard and long inside of you, pushing against your walls.

his hand wraps around your midsection, dropping to your pussy to rub directly on your clit instead of his usual swiping around in circles, smiling as he watches your face in the mirror.

“feels good?” rafe asks, even though he doesn't need to. he just wants to hear you say it.

“feels so good, rafe.” you whine out, brows scrunching together as your eyes close, having to squeeze them shut from the pure pleasure pushing through your system.

“yeah? gonna cum for me baby? my good girl?” rafe bends over, pressing his front into your back. “my champion?”

rafes finger speeds up, keeping his cock buried inside of you as he feels you pulsing around him, able to tell exactly when your orgasm hits by the way your entire body shudders in pleasure, cunt clamping down so tightly on his cock that rafe cums without having to move.

your moans match each other as you both cum, rafe pressed close to you as your highs ride out.

“god, baby.” rafe groans, pulling out as you collapse forward, his hands quickly spreading your cheeks to watch as his cum slips out of your pussy.

“shit, that was good.” you drop to your side, turning to smile up at rafe as he also breaths heavily, chest rising and falling.

“yeah it was.” rafe grabs your thigh, pulling your legs apart. “ready to go again?”

“huh?” you question, blinking your eyes open to look at rafe.

“you're my champion, you think im going to stop after one orgasm?” rafe leans over you, giving a press to your lips and then a kiss for the gold medal resting against your chest. “we're going to be celebrating all night long.”

[misswynters]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

Leon S Kennedy x reader

warnings. slight nsfw themes, teasing, leon being hot

Seemingly enough, the night air was thick with the scent of rain and smoke as you and Leon found a momentary refuge in the shelter of an old warehouse. You'd only stopped for a quick break, yet here he was, shirtless, bent over his gear bag to check the supplies, every muscle in his back flexing with each movement. A faint glint of silver caught your eye, a thick silver chain hanging around his neck.

You didn't mean to stare, but your eyes were drawn to him: the way the low moonlight outside spilled in through the broken windows, casting shadows over his bare shoulders and collarbone, highlighting the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. He straightened, his focus on the gear, oblivious to the way your gaze lingered.

A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and without a second guess, you stepped closer, reaching out to catch the necklace between your fingers, giving it a gentle tug. Leon's head turned, his blue eyes locking onto yours with a spark of surprise, but also something darker, more dangerous. You let your fingers brush the chain where it lay against his chest, and with a smirk, you looked up at him, your voice low and teasing.

"You know, this would look good above me," you murmured, not missing the flicker in his gaze as the implication sank in.

For a moment, he was silent, his breath hitching ever so slightly. Then a slow smile spread across his lips, a look of confidence settling in his eyes. "Is that right?" he asked, voice smooth, filled with a heat that made your stomach flip. His hand came up to yours, his fingers brushing your wrist before he held it, his grip both firm and careful.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself," he continued, his voice dropping as he stepped closer, closing the space between you until there was barely a breath of air separating your bodies. His free hand slid along your waist, fingers tracing your side, his thumb brushing a small circle against your hip, sending shivers through you. "But l've gotta warn you-I don't like teasing."

"Oh, I'm counting on it," you shot back, lips curving into a smirk as you leaned in, letting your mouth hover near his ear, close enough to feel his pulse spike under your hand. His fingers tightened on your waist, and you could feel his breath quicken, the tension building between you like a live wire.

He didn't hold back, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his eyes dark as they flickered over your face. "You really want to find out what that necklace looks like up close?" His words were barely a whisper, warm against your skin as he traced a path down your arm, his touch sending a thrill through you.

Your heart raced, but you didn't look away, didn't falter under the intensity in his gaze. "Maybe l'd like a demonstration," you replied, your fingers trailing along his chest, lingering just enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His hands roamed up your arms, his touch lingering at your shoulders before sliding to cup the back of your neck. He held you there, close enough that his breath brushed your lips. The necklace glinted in the moonlight as it shifted, resting between you as if waiting to make good on your challenge.

Leon's hand traced down your arm, guiding your fingers up to rest against his chest, just above where the pendant lay. "You know... you're pretty bold for someone who's not supposed to be tempting me out here," he murmured, eyes flickering to your mouth.

"Is it working?" you asked, barely able to keep the teasing note in your voice.

His response was a low chuckle, rich and deep, vibrating against your hand.

"More than you know." And with that, he closed the remaining space between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His fingers tangled in your hair, his grip possessive as he pulled you closer, his other hand slipping to the small of your back, guiding you firmly against him.

You could feel the rough metal of the pendant pressing against your collarbone, a constant reminder of your earlier words, and it only fueled the heat building between you. His kisses were demanding, as if he'd been holding back for far too long and had finally decided to let go.

His hands began to roam, sliding over your sides, fingers tracing the lines of your body with a kind of reverent intensity that made your breath hitch.

Every touch was deliberate, unhurried, as if he was savoring each second, each inch of skin. His mouth moved along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin as he left a trail of soft, burning kisses down to your collarbone, right where the necklace lay. He paused, smirking against your skin as he whispered, "Still think this would look good above you?"

You couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped you, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers curled into his hair as you tugged him closer, your voice breathless but filled with determination. "I think it's perfect," you murmured, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

The thrill of being here, in this dark, forgotten place, only heightened the tension between you both. His hands returned to your waist, guiding you down as he followed, his gaze never breaking from yours, filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

He leaned in, his lips finding yours again, the kisses growing deeper, more heated, as if nothing in the world existed outside of this moment. His fingers laced through yours, pinning your hands beside you as he kissed you with a passion that sent sparks through your veins. The necklace brushed against your chest, cool against your flushed skin, each sensation heightened by the danger lurking just beyond the walls.

"Leon..." His name escaped in a breathless whisper, and he met your gaze with a smile, his hands gently trailing up your arms, sending a rush of warmth through you. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing heavy, as he murmured, "I love you."

With a teasing smirk, you whispered, "Prove it." His answering smile was filled with promise, and as he leaned down, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you and the heat building between.

taglist: @444fernz @writingwisterias

banner: @cafekitsune

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Tell me something awful like you are a lover stuck in the body of a racing guy - Fernando Alonso x reader

Pop music blares through your headphones from your guilty pleasure playlist as you're scrubbing a kitchen counter. The blonde singer's words about hating it here couldn't resonate with you more. Living with strangers was bareable. Them being students and not really sticking to a cleaning schedule was to be expected. You'd committed similar sins before. But texting your landlord to fix your water pressure while the state of the kitchen (and honestly, the whole flat) was abysmal wasn't the smartest. You hated confrontation,so it was on you to bring everything up to the guy's standards. One bit of the shared space took you an hour. You were tired. Unemployed. Done. Cold. Just as you were about to follow your astrology app's suggestion of a good cry, you get a WhatsApp notification from your boyfriend, asking you to call him.

"Hey, Fernando. Everything all right?"you say as his face pops on screen.

"Yeah, I just woke up. Figured I wanted to give you a tour of Sin City, but I think you'll have to wait a bit," he trails off.

"What, not feeling like an early bird, huh? Usually, I'd be the one bugging you to stay in bed with me and cuddle more. What's new, hmm?" you ask, curious as to why he's called you out of the blue.

He just grunts and flips the camera. Your eyes take a second to process what you're seeing. And then you focus on the tent in his boxers. As if intent to kill you both on the spot, he adds, "You know, it's your fault. Had a dream about you, and apparently, even fake you has the same effect as the real thing."

You laugh, just a bit.

"Sorry, sorry, love. Just the thought of you getting a morning boner like some teenager is hilarious." Sensing that he's about to hang up and not wanting to deal with it, there's a plan forming. The good cry you were considering a few moments before was going to be turning into a good wank. "Wait. Let me help you. Please?"

Fernando pretends to consider it for a moment. You both know that phone sex is the key to not loosing one's mind during a triple header.

"Fine." He agrees. "But you gotta put on a real show on for me, beautiful. Wanna see you ride your toy like it's me.".

"It is you,". Nando's reaction to your previous dildo was to replace it as soon as possible. You were flabbergasted that he would go through with cloning his willy, as the kit said, just to stake a stupid claim on you. All your annoyance evaporated the first time you used the new toy and came so hard you questioned every other solo orgasm before. You tell your boyfriend you'd be right back as you swiftly disappear to wash the dildo. Thankfully, no one's around to see you. You prop your phone on the edge of the bed, following Nando's example. His hand is already slowly palming his cock. You're about to spread the lube on your hands, when you realize you're still fully clothed.

"Teasing or quickie?" You ask him.

"You know the quote, honey. As much as I wanna watch you touch yourself and suck it first, on a time crunch here. So, clothes off and giddy up, cowgirl." He says.

You spread the lube on the dildo, matching Fernando's pace. God, the visuals of his cock, ready for you but out of reach was driving you crazy.

"You know what to do, baby. Rub your clit like I would touch you. Don't be cutting corners just because I'm not there to guide you on it properly." He adds.

You loved his more commanding side. Before you two had sex for the first time, he wondered why you'd pick someone his age to date. It became glaring obvious during fucking you, the way you melted against his words, how you begged him to be faster, harder, rougher, to not hold back on you. You depended on him to give you just what other partners often missed to do.

You realized that you were spacing out and returned to the task at hand. Circling your clit, once, twice and thrice and already you're wet and ready. You straddle the toy, making sure Fernando gets a premium view of how the plastic cock sinks inside of you slowly.

He groans and tightens his fist, squeezing it against the base.

"Faster, honey. Show me that I taught you how to take it. Ride it for me." He commands, needing to see you fall apart and soon.

You bite your lip and find your rhythm. Usually, when you used the dildo, it was in missionary. This position was making everything so much more intense for you it was as if you were doing it with the real thing. Speeding up, you could feel the toy going deeper, making you clench against it. You let you a quiet moan of Fernando's name, a plea, and a futile action.

"You look so good like this, my love. God, when I come back, I want to taste you as you play with this. Would you like this? To feel my tongue on your clit as you're fucking yourself on my dick, huh? Sound good, no?". Nando's fantasy reminds you of how his hands will be on you soon, how you'll fall apart on his lips, how he'll make sure to have you coming in exotic destinations, away from everything you hate here. This fuels a fire in you and you're thrusting your hips, the toy slick with your wetness.

Your boyfriend's pumping matches your speed, and you can see how he's rubbing down drops of precum down his shaft.

"Tell me when you're about to cum for me, beautiful. Let's do it together." Less than a minute later you're a moaning mess, pussy clenching against the plastic replica of your lover's cock and saying that you're about to finish. Fernando encourages you to go over the edge, to finish you both off like a good girl. And that's exactly what you do. You wish you could take the shot where he angles his cock and cums all over his stomach and have it burned behind your retinas forever. You're both panting and spent and taking a few minutes before starting your actual post-orgasm rituals and clean up.

"I'll call you again in half an hour, okay? Let me know what you wanna see of Vegas, and I'll have my driver pass it. Think I have the time to even walk into some landmarks and get you whatever souvenirs what you want. Plan and let me know. I love you, sweetheart." He says. Underneath the tough exterior and the sometimes arrogant facade was a gentle, wonderful boyfriend. Maybe you didn't really hate it here. And just maybe he was a lover, stuck in the body of a racing guy.

[ramhaiba]

𝖢𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀

Pairing- Yandere Bokuto x Reader MasterList

"But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love."

A/N- this is one of my drafts, so this is shorter than most of my work (might make a longer ver. of this fic in the future!)

Everyone knows Boktuo probably has a crush on you. The topic of Bokuto’s childish crush on you is spoken like taboo. There is a nonverbal agreement between the entire MSBY to refrain from acknowledging it because of its harmless yearning.

While Boktuo’s a great guy, the idea of getting into another workplace relationship sounds displeasing to you since your last one ended in a disaster, causing you to quit your job due to the uncomfortable work environment. 

That’s why you pray he doesn’t ask you to dinner or anything romantic related because the sight of a heartbroken Bokuto would haunt your dreams. But that is your future problem-At present, Bokuto seems to be ignorant of his feelings because if he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to show up to practice, a bouquet in his hands, confessing his attraction towards you. 

Thankfully in the present, Bokuto just thinks of you as a good friend- a good friend who he can’t get enough of, a good friend who he wants to spend all his time with. Sure- sometimes he gets a little moody when he catches you hanging around other people but that’s just a normal thing for good friends to feel right? Right?

He’s doing it again, he’s completely ignoring every responsibility he has so he can talk to you. The second you step into the gymnasium, he’s at your side so fast that you think he teleported. Bokuto would start blathering about the more random things, details about his day, his plans for the weekend, and family events. But he always complimented your appearance, regardless of whether you thought you looked like a mess. The conversation was getting too long.

You could see in the background that Atsumu was getting impatient, hands on his hips as his foot repeatedly tapped the ground.

A setter needs to train with their team. But Atsumu can’t exactly do that if his teammate is busy chatting up their manager. “Bokuto, that sounds really great but shouldn’t you get back to pratice?” you told Bokuto, trying to solve the issue. 

Boktuo tilted his head, a naive smile on his lips as he said “It’s fine, we can talk for five more minutes. Atsumu can wait.”

That was Atsumu's last straw, his eyebrows furrowing as his fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“Bokuto, could ya please stop flirting with your little girlfriend? Get yer ass back to the court, we have a game coming to prepare for” Atsumu huffed. You glance at Bokuto, noticing his dazed expression, it seems like gears in his brain are finally turning.

“Girl-friend?”Bokuto uttered in disbelief, his arms slumped forward. When his yellow eyes looked back at you, you noticed a slight blush crawling on his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“Bokuto-”

“I gotta pratice now, Y/n. Talk to you later” Bokuto interrupted, dashing back to the court. You looked at Atsumu, giving him the most pissed-off look because judging by Boktuo's sudden change in emotion- from happy-go-lucky to a bashful blushing ace, 

It looks like he finally realized why your friendship was so different from others.

But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love.

It’s all that stupid setter’s fault that Bokuto is acting all weird in front of you. The second pratice ends, you’re pulling Atsumu by his ear, dragging him to the locker room so you can curse at him.

“You just had to use the word ‘girlfriend.’ You ruined this whole thing, Miya” you shouted, cornering the blonde hair setter against a locker.

“Sorry- Sorry, c’mon it was in the heat of the moment” Atsumu huffed, averting his eyes in embarrassment. 

“God- I’m going to have to break that poor boy’s heart because of you” you sighed. “What’cha mean by that?” Atsumu asked.

“Well, knowing Bokuto- he’s probably going to ask me on a date. But I’ve kinda..sworn off of workplace romances permanently” you answered, the anger in your tone slowly fading.

Atsumu took a moment to think before opening his mouth,

“We can’t have him acting all heartbroken right now- a match is coming up and I seriously cannot set to a depressed Bokuto….So just make sure he can’t ask ya out then” Atsumu suggested.

“What do you mean by that” you questioned, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “Avoid him till this little crush burns out. If that doesn’t work, it won’t hurt to get a boyfriend, y’know?” Atsumu added.

You punched Atsumu’s arm for his last suggestion causing him to hiss.

 “You’re an asshole but avoiding him for a little while isn’t such a bad idea” you hummed. “Does that mean I’m forgiven” Atsumu huffed, rubbing his sore forearm. “For now” you replied.

—

Avoiding Bokuto was a lot harder than you expected it to be. When he attempted to greet you at practice, you’d straightforwardly tell him “ I have to go schedule the hotel reservations for the out-of-state game,” or you’d mention another responsibility you must fill. 

Either way, he would let out a noticeable pout every time you walked away, mumbling a weak “okay then.”

Then he’s trying to get your attention after practice, a nervous but excited expression on his face as he stands in front of you but you don’t let him utter a single word before reminding him that you have to go home quickly to do some laundry.

‘Laundry? Was laundry really more important than him?’

Bokuto wondered. He doesn’t understand why the love of his life is acting so strange. Maybe you’re not feeling well? Or you’re stressed.

Either way, Bokuto is showing up at your door, holding a gift basket, a big grin on his lips. 

“Bokuto? What's all of this” you asked, awkwardly as you opened the door for him.

“ Figured you’ve been stressed recently that’s why you’ve been acting so distant, so I made ya a little self-care basket.” Bokuto beamed, proudly holding the basket of assorted goods. Everything in that basket is expensive, you can tell by the popular brands of each bottle of lotion, candles, and sweets.

“ Thank you, Bokuto. But you didn’t have to do this” you responded, calmly as you carefully took the basket from his hand, trying your best not to come in contact with his fingertips.

“I don’t mind doing these things if it’s for you. I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for you” Bokuto laughed bashfully.

“ Well.. goodnight.” You mumbled, trying to close the door, but his foot interrupted its closing.

“ Actually, I was kinda meaning to ask you something”

Fuck- here it is, the moment you’ve been dreading.

“Y/n, after hearing what ‘Tsumu said on the court the other day, it kinda got me wondering about somethings” Bokuto commented, a bashful grin across his lips.

“W-what kind of things” you stuttered, trying to put up a fake smile as mentally you were dreading the worst.

“I think I wouldn’t mind- I wouldn’t at all mind being able to call you my girlfriend” Bokuto confessed.

Fuck- what do you do? He’ll be too upset to play for his match next week if you reject him. You’d be lying to him if you accepted his feelings and hurt him more when you admit the truth.

“Bokuto- I don’t think we should get into this conversation, it might distract you from your game that’s coming up” you suggested.

Bokuto leans his face closer to yours, only a centimeter apart causing your heart to race. “You look so nervous, Y/n” he pointed out, his fingers brushing over the apples of your cheeks.

 “And your cheeks… they feel so hot” he mumbled. “I-it’s nothing important, I’m fine You responded, swatting his hand away from your face, adverting your eyes from his unmoving glare. 

“At first I didn’t completely understand why you’ve been pushing me away, Y/n. But now I understand. It’s because you feel the same and you’re nervous about dating another co-worker. But I’m not like that guy, Y/n. I’d never treat you like trash. I’d never let you go” Bokuto confessed. He’s getting excited- too excited because he’s come up with a false reality where you’d reciprocated his feelings. 

“Bokuto, I’m sorry but I don’t- I don’t feel the same and I don’t think I ever will” you replied being forced to ruin his dream. His entire demeanor changes at your words. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. Once standing in front of you with a big grin now morphed into an emotionless expression, eyes dulling burning holes into you, fist clenched at his side.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Bokuto asked, trying to find out if he heard you correctly.

“I’m saying I don’t have romantic feelings for you, Bokuto. B-but I really cherish our friendship and I don’t mind still being friends after this” you responded. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to be friends” Bokuto commented, his hand curling over your doorframe, pushing himself into your apartment, every step he took forward caused you to walk backward.

“Bokuto, stop it- you’re scaring me,” you remarked, heart skipping as your back pressed against the wall. “I like you so much, Y/n. I really do and I think you could too. I just need to show you how good I can be to you-

For you”

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 3

cw: the ocean, almost drowning, kidnapping, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 5k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

On your first day of work, you were already regretting not pushing harder to get your siren to promise you he would stay away, glimpses of a snaking tail under the water every few hours stopping your heart for a beat every time. 

You ignored your first sighting, reporting into the office, getting a list of duties and of expected intake for the day. 

You asked when you’d be paid, part of you worried he’d say at the end of the month and you’d be stuck without a place to stay for weeks. You let out a sigh of relief when he said at the end of the week. Only two more days then. You could manage two more days. You were sent off on your way without much else said. 

No one was assigned to help you, to figure out what you were supposed to do or how to start, so you did the only thing you could think of. You went and found Finn.

His face lit up the second he saw you, dropping the box he was holding to run over to your side. 

“Hello little lady, how’s your first day going?”

You glanced back at the discarded cargo. “Do you not need to get that?”

“Is this going to take long? Okay, you probably want help, I’ll be right back.”

He rushed over to the dropped box that at the very least didn’t look like it had been damaged and hauled it over to a safer location, amidst some other unpacked boxes. 

He was back at your side before the incredulous huff of laughter managed to escape you, giving you a sheepish look. “Sorry if I’m overeager, we don’t get many pretty girls out here, I’ve gotta try and help you before someone else snatches you up.”

You gave him a humoring laugh, more polite than anything. 

You had a feeling your intentions with one another did not align, but he seemed pleasant and helpful and whatever his intentions happened to be, you could use that right about now. 

And he held true to his word. For the rest of the day, he helped you figure out your various duties, largely abandoning his own, only occasionally popping out to make excuses or run and do something that others laughed and insisted really couldn’t wait. 

The day passed quickly. The work wasn’t particularly hard, just repetitive. Finn did his best to help but once you realized he couldn’t read, it became a little more difficult. 

He still hovered over your shoulder, something that you appreciated but had the unintended consequence of you having to struggle to pull his attention every time you caught another flash of scales out of the corner of your eye. 

They seemed particularly likely to appear whenever Finn set off from his latest task he was ignoring to help you again.

You bristled at the thought, trying to tell yourself you were making up patterns, that it wasn’t anything at all. 

At least you hoped you were. If it was a pattern, you were going to kill him. 

Even once you got the hang of things, Finn refused to actually leave you, insisting that it was improper to abandon you on your first day. You just smiled and continued on, set on getting everything done. First impressions were important after all, and you needed to look just as valuable as your sister had been. 

Before you knew it, the day was over and people had begun filing out. It wasn’t empty, the dock was never really empty, but it had quieted down and you finished the last of your work, marking everything down as neatly and perfectly as you could. 

“I can take that back for you!” Finn exclaimed as you carefully looked over your work for any glaring mistakes. He seemed excited to find something he could actually help you with. 

Part of you wanted to refuse, to take it back yourself, but he seemed too excited, refusing felt like kicking a puppy. Besides, you imagined he’d have a few kind words to say about you and that couldn't hurt. 

He came darting back over in minutes, that persistent, goofy smile plastered across his face as he skidded to a halt. “Mission accomplished, ma’am,” he said with a little salute. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, trying to push as much gratitude as you could into your voice.

“Now that that’s done, I was wondering if you wanted to go out or something. I could get you some drinks or food or whatever, celebrate your first day being over.”

There it was, exactly what you’d worried this had all been leading to. “Finn…”

Water came splashing up through the gaps in the wood on the dock, drenching the pair of you. 

You jumped, reflexively and far too late to save yourself from any of the water. 

As you looked through the slats, you could have sworn you saw the glint of scales. 

“Yes,” you blurted out, bringing Finn’s attention back to you. “That sounds great.”

You gave him what felt like a poor approximation of an excited smile. 

“Really? That’s amazing. The ocean seems to have something to say about it. She’s nervous, poor girl. Promise I won’t leave you behind.” He spoke down to the waves, attempting to lighten the mood as he saw your face go white in your newly wetted skirts. 

You smiled, your heart hammering in your ears, and after another quiet little bit of reassurance, he scurried off, telling you to stay put while he found a coat he’d discarded earlier in the hot sun and promptly forgotten about, and then you could be off.

Simon, you guessed that was what you were calling him now, decided that was an opportune time to breach the surface of the water and look up at you with those big, golden eyes. 

An anger that had been simmering quietly inside of you at every flash of scales you’d seen throughout the day came to a head as he had the audacity to simply appear like this. “Go away,” you hissed, the words coming out louder than you meant them to. 

This wasn’t like the day before. You knew Finn would be back any moment, you didn’t have time to argue on the shore. 

He remained resolutely above the water, looking up at you with a determination that almost frightened you set across his impish features. 

When he opened his mouth, you held your hands out, trying to tell him to stop, that it wasn’t safe. 

And then he started speaking and your hands fell limp to your sides, warning him not seeming quite so important anymore. 

The words sounded different. Maybe he was singing? It was hard to tell. You couldn’t even make out the words, couldn’t understand any of it. All you knew was that he was there. Why were you all the way up here? You should be down there with him. Maybe then you could understand. 

Whatever noises he was making, ones you were too far away to really hear, wormed their way right through your ears into your head, snaking their way around inside you, taking up the space where your thoughts were moments ago. 

There was nothing but him. 

Everything else faded away until all you could see was amber eyes. 

And then, walking carefully and intentionally, you tumbled into the water, seemingly of your own accord. 

The second you hit the icy water, the warm calm you’d been pulled into dissipated. You weren’t sure if it was the shock of the water or your head going under, no longer able to hear the hypnotic noises from the siren you’d thought was harmless. At least to you. 

And what a foolish notion that was. He was a siren. It didn't matter if he'd saved you or not, of course he was dangerous. You weren’t special to him. Why would you be?

As you tried to come up for air his arms met your shoulders and pushed you deeper and you realized, horrifically, just how wrong you’d been. 

You didn’t understand why he did what he’d done, why he’d helped you before. Maybe he’d just been playing with his food, toying with you until he got bored. 

Your mind newly cleared, you fought to swim up. As you did, his tail wound around your legs and you saw a pout break out across his face. 

Panic rose in your chest and he watched, head tilted, examining you carelessly, with your legs still bound together under the water. 

He looked at you, eyes big and bright and expectant, flicking across your face as he tried to fight back a smile. 

You struggled and his hand grasped yours, keeping it in place, effortlessly keeping you under the waves. The bright look in his eyes shifted to confusion, seeming baffled as to why you’d rather breach the surface than steal a kiss from him and let the cold water invade your lungs. 

As he stared expectantly and confused at you, you wiggled just enough to free one leg, something he seemed unconcerned with as he continued to hold you under. He knew he was stronger than you, that you had no real shot of escape. You both did. 

That didn’t matter to you. You brought your knee up as swiftly and firmly as you could in the cold water that forced a horrible, sluggish feeling into your limbs, and kneed him right in his gills. 

That seemed to activate some instinct in him and he wrapped entirely around you, effortlessly countering you at every point of struggle. They were the movements of a practiced hunter. 

You kicked and fought and made every attempt to break away and breach the surface but he was too strong, too practiced at this. At holding people down. 

You wondered how you matched up to them, how hard you fought compared to his other prey, if he’d remember this at all once you were gone?

At some point in the struggle you must have kissed, in the loosest sense of the word. You missed it in the flurry of movement, just another brush of skin against skin in the struggle. It must have happened though because as your lungs burned just a bit too much and your brain forced you to inhale, you didn’t choke on water but instead felt the burning soothe and your instincts calm, despite the salt water flooding inside you. 

Regardless of your newfound ability to breathe, the fight and lack of oxygen had weakened you and your struggle slowed. 

As it did, he rose to the surface

When you breached the waves, the dock was nowhere in sight. You had no idea when in your fight he’d dragged you out to sea or how far you’d gone. 

“You can breathe,” he said, looking at you with that same quiet confusion as when you’d fought against him. “I made sure you could breathe. Why do you still worry?”

You inhaled in an attempt to answer him with a screamed admonishment and then, before a word could escape you, you were coughing up water

He sat patiently as you did, his arms wrapped carefully around you. 

The last time you’d coughed up water like this, you’d been too relieved to be alive to really notice it. You did not have that luxury this time. The saltwater burned coming up, your lungs feeling heavy in your chest as the water poured out of you. 

It felt like you were dying. You didn’t understand how you weren’t. 

He didn’t seem concerned, just holding you as you fought to empty your lungs so you could finally inhale, every attempted inhalation just stirred the churning water in your lungs, agitating them further. 

As you finally emptied your lungs, you sucked in air. Your chest filled and it hurt more than it brought you relief. 

“You have to take me back,” you forced out, the burning in your lungs exhausting you past the point of screaming at him. 

His lips pursed into a pout and his eyes darted away from yours. “You don’t even like it there,” he said, sounding openly disappointed, not even attempting to hide it. But then, why would he? You were at his mercy, he could do whatever he wanted to. 

“I like it better than I like it here,” you said, gesturing around you at the open ocean. 

He looked around at the ocean surrounding you and then returned his gaze intently to your face. “I can take you somewhere else.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, you’d better not…”

And then he was off, swimming quickly through the waves. 

He kept your head above water carefully, although you still had to keep your mouth firmly shut to avoid inhaling anything, but even that didn’t slow him down. 

And then, with no warning, you were going down, back through thick water. You didn’t have a chance to gather your bearing before it was too dark to see anything, Simon’s grip on your arm was the only thing cutting through the cold black abyss around you. 

Your arm brushed against hard rock, scraping painfully before it was gone and you found yourself disoriented in the space around you once more. You could be surrounded by rock for all you knew, inches away from it. There was no way to tell, no way to really know anything about where you were being dragged. 

Your fight renewed as your air began to run out and the darkness still imposed itself around you. You knew better, knew you couldn’t get away. Even if you did, you didn’t even know which direction was up anymore. Your instincts, however, were not so easily suppressed by silly things like facts. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to kill you. Even more than that, as your time under the water dragged on, why he was going to kill you? Maybe you’d upset him, made an unforgivable mistake when you kicked him or complained just a little too much. The way it looked now, you guessed you’d never know. You didn’t have the oxygen left to figure it out, your brain starting to get foggy. 

And still, it continued. He dragged you down and down and then your head breached the surface and as you gasped in air, the word flipped right side up once more. 

You dragged air into your pleading lungs, this time no wretched water biting your throat as you did. 

Your lungs still hurt though. A quieter ache. 

Your eyes adjusted slowly to the dark and you could barely make him out in what appeared to be a cave, the moon shining in through a few holes riddled in the rock above you. 

“You could’ve killed me,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. 

His head tilted. “No. I know how long it takes a human to drown. You were fine.”

His words did nothing to settle your unease

“Is this better?” he asked, gesturing around to the cave you’d approached from beneath. 

The water was just a small pool in a larger cave, leading off a few feet before revealing a glimpse of the outside world through the holes that let the light in. 

You hauled yourself out of the water to look and saw that there was no other way out, only the horrible, dark path through the water he’d taken you through. 

You couldn’t get out of here on your own. 

Even if you could, you had nowhere to go. There was probably just more open water outside these walls. Even if there was land, you had no idea where you were. 

You wondered if Finn was worried about you yet. Maybe he was. Or maybe he thought you’d abandoned him, left him alone on the dock in lieu of having to go out to dinner with him. 

You weren’t sure which you were hoping for, which was better for him to believe. Which would be easier to explain when you returned? If you returned. 

“You need to take me back,” you said, trying to force some authority into your tone. 

“Can I ask you some questions about humans?” he asked, completely ignoring you. 

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t. You can take me back.”

He drifted towards you and you pulled back further onto the patch of dry land. 

That seemed to hurt him, like he couldn’t understand why you would possibly be wary of him. 

He rested his head on the rocky shore, looking defeated, slowly drying blonde hair curling up around his eyes as it was freed of some of the weight of the water, and you fought to not think that if he hadn’t just done what he did to you, maybe he’d look sweet. 

“Who was that?” he blurted out, his head lifting with his words as his jaw moved against the stone below him. 

“What?”

“On the dock. He was talking to you, you were leaving with him. Who was that?”

“Who, Finn? Why do you-” A thought began to dawn on you. “His name is Finn. You hang around the dock, do you not know him?”

He shrugged in the water. “I’ve seen him.”

“And you care now? That’s kind of sudden.”

“I guess.”

“Alright. Did you kidn- Did you take me so I wouldn’t go with him.” You did your best to keep your voice measured in an attempt to get an honest response from him. 

“You’re supposed to go to the beach. You weren’t going to the beach.”

“No, you rejected my deal, remember? I thought I wasn’t going to the beach because you were just hanging around.”

He rolled his eyes just barely, enough to make a quiet irritation stir in your stomach. “Can’t talk to you when I’m around,” he said, matter of factly. “You said you’d go to the beach.”

“I know, but something came up. I’d have come back. I can’t miss one day?” you said, trying to reason with him. 

“One day? It was the first day!” he said with a huff. 

“I hadn’t even left yet, how did you know I wasn’t going to go meet you.”

“Were you?” he asked, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. 

“We’ll never know, will we? Because you decided to kidnap and almost drown me.”

“I didn’t almost drown you. I would never drown you.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, well at the very least you decided to hurt me.” Sharp words bounced off the stone walls of the cave. 

His eyes widened. “I hurt you?”

“Yeah, of course you did. I couldn’t breathe. And that’s beside how bad coughing up sea water hurts.”

He shook his head. “You’re fine, why would it hurt?”

“Simon,” you said, “It hurts humans when we can’t breathe. And we aren’t meant to have to breathe water, it burns when I have to get it out.”

For someone who presumably had drowned dozens of humans, he seemed to have little idea how drowning actually felt. To be fair, he probably didn’t have many chances to learn about the human side of the experience, you didn’t imagine many survived long enough to tell him about it. 

“Oh,” he said, deflating a little. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Right, just to kidnap me.”

He nodded with no air of shame regarding his actions. “Yeah.”

You settled back against the wall of rock behind you, trying to think of what else you could say to get yourself out of there. 

He looked up at you and suddenly he seemed unbearably nervous. “You want to leave.”

“I thought we discussed this, I have to leave. I can’t just disappear, there are people waiting for me.”

“Finn,” he asked, saying the name like it tasted rotten in his mouth. 

“Yes, Finn. I told you, I can’t just disappear.”

You had to lean closer to him to hear his next words at all, his voice unbearably quiet. “It’ll hurt you.”

You slid back into the water beside him, hope sparking through you. “I’ll be fine, I just want to get out of here.”

His hands snaked around your sides, pulling you close to him. “Do you want to hold your breath or breathe the water?” You could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. You didn’t understand how breathing worked for him, where his lungs ended and his gills began. 

You shivered as you thought back to retching up the water, how it had burned coming up, how the attempted gasps felt inside already heavy lungs. “I’ll hold my breath.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will be fast.”

You sucked in a breath before he pulled you down, a luxury you had not been granted last time. 

He was true to his words. You could feel the water rushing past you as you held your breath, clinging to him the whole way. 

When you breached the surface, your lungs didn’t hurt quite as much as they had the first time around. His grip on you was tighter than when you’d arrived, a fear present in him that wasn’t before. 

Your hands were wrapped around his neck, the desire to get yourself away from him gone now that you were fairly certain he’d bring you back, even if he wasn’t happy about it. 

He brought you to the shore, a familiar spot.

Something occurred to you as you found yourself in shallow water. “How’d you even know where to take me? When you first found me, you took me right here.”

“I know where the ships are going. Always to the same spot.” He sounded almost annoyed at the ships’ predictability. 

“Well, they have to go to a dock.”

He grumbled in response, his discontent evident. You weren’t sure how much of it was from this grudge against ships and how much was because he’d had to bring you back to shore.  

You pulled yourself out of the water and wanted just sit there for a while, regain some of your energy. 

The second you hit dry land, Simon was gone, disappearing before you could say so much as another word to him. 

You didn’t really have time to talk or rest anyway, running back onto the dock as quickly as you could, hoping Finn hadn’t left yet. 

You found him standing alone on the dock, looking dejected right until his eyes drifted towards you. His eyes widened as they met yours and his expression shifted from surprise to concern, rushing towards you. 

“What happened?” he asked, pulling the jacket he’d run off to retrieve over your shoulders. “I thought you’d gotten bored and abandoned me but a swim at this time of day hardly seems like a good idea.”

“I fell in. Guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you said with a sheepish smile, hoping it was anything close to convincing. 

His hand drifted up to push wet hair away from your face. “I’m sure you’re not feeling up to going out anymore…”

“No,” you said, not thinking of Finn at all but instead set on rebelling against the attempts to stop you from going. It wasn’t fair to Finn, but by the time that occurred to you, you’d already spoken. “I mean, you waited all this time for me, it would be rude not to go.”

He seemed too excited to notice how suspicious you were being. “Alright, but make sure you’re not overextending yourself.”

You nodded with an unenthusiastic smile and let him lead you off to a tavern somewhere. 

It was a largely uneventful evening, all things considered. He bought you some soup, something nice and hot that you could feel in your bones, creating a comfortable warmth in your core. 

Your reticence to talk was barely noticed. Finn seemed more than happy to fill the silence, letting you bundle up under the thick wool of his coat and focus on your food. 

Before you knew it, it was gone and there was nothing left to distract yourself with. 

You waited for Finn to finish whatever story he’d been telling that you hadn’t been listening to and said, “This has been lovely, but I should be getting back.”

He laughed. “What, back to work? I’m not that boring, am I?”

You started as he pulled you fully out of your head back into the tavern. “What? No, of course not.”

“So where are you staying then?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Nowhere. I’ll find an inn after I get paid but until then-”

“You could stay with me!” he blurted out before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. 

You weren’t quite as enthused. “Look, Finn, I don’t…”

“This isn’t me trying to come onto you, honest. You shouldn’t have to stay out in the cold, it’s not right. I mean, no wonder you're tired. If you don’t get some proper sleep you’ll drown, and then who am I supposed to try and impress every day?”

It was most certainly untoward, but the offer was tempting nonetheless. 

You reevaluated Finn, trying to determine how much you really trusted him. Enough for dinner, sure, but enough for this?

You thought about spending another night alone on the cold shore and decided that yes, you did trust him enough for this. 

As soon as you nodded your assent, he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the stairs in the tavern. 

You couldn’t help but think that taking you to the tavern he was staying at felt presumptuous but the allure of a warm room and blankets were too strong for you to say anything to that effect. 

His room was decently sized, with a large bed pressed against the back wall. Reassuringly, he started to set up a space on the floor for you, moving some blankets from a chair in the corner to the floor. 

To your chagrin, he began to settle into the nest of blankets on the ground and you immediately moved to set it right. 

“Absolutely not, you will not sleep on the floor in your own room.”

He looked up at you with big, sad eyes. “But-”

“No buts, I will leave.”

He sighed. “Fine. But know that I’m not happy about it.”

You settled onto the floor and he slid another blanket off the bed onto you. You accepted it without argument, allowing him this at least. Besides, you were in no state to be turning down blankets. 

It was late and the blankets helped against your still damp form. The calm itself was refreshing and you fought the urge to thank Finn, who seemed like he’d already drifted off to sleep since you’d begun to settle down. 

You had no choice but to try and follow him. 

You slept restlessly but at least you slept.

[simplygojo]

Costume Party I - Toji Fushiguro

Author's Note: Hi friends! I hope you guys enjoy this mini series! I allways gotta start these with Toji for some reason...I just think he knows how to fuck if ya know what I mean...anyways, ENJOY!!

The only Kinktober request I am accepting are from my Kinktober Prompt List, thank you <33

Alsoooo Happy Thanksgiving weekend to my fellow Canadians out there, remember to be thankful and to recognize the land we are on.

Pairing: Toji Fushiuro x f!reader

Kinks: Semi-Public Sex, Mirror Kink

Word Count: 1.7K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand; @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, light choking, fingering, aggressive sex, alcohol use.

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived.

Music thumped through the walls, loud enough to feel in your chest, and the crowd inside buzzed with excitement and laughter.

You'd barely had time to throw on your costume after rushing home from work, but you knew Toji was waiting for you inside—dressed as a fox, of all things.

You smirked to yourself, adjusting the bunny ears perched on your head and smoothing your hands over the scandalously tight bodysuit you wore.

The outfit was borderline obscene—the kind of thing that left little to the imagination: black, lacy, and hugging every curve.

The fishnets and heels only made it worse—or better, depending on who you asked.

Your heart raced a little as you entered the venue, scanning the room for him. It didn’t take long. Toji stood in the corner, leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand.

His dark eyes were glued to you the second you walked through the door. His costume wasn’t as elaborate as yours, just a black T-shirt and jeans, with a fox mask pushed up on his head.

But even in something so simple, he looked ridiculously good.

His tall, muscular frame and the sharp lines of his face made him stand out in any crowd.

But it wasn’t his looks that made you grin. It was the way his entire body went rigid the moment his eyes landed on you.

You could see the flicker of shock, the heat that followed as his gaze raked over you, lingering on the curves of your breasts, your hips, and those impossibly long legs wrapped in fishnets.

You saw the exact moment he realized just how hard he was getting, and you bit your lip to hide a smirk as he subtly shifted, trying to adjust himself.

He lifted his drink to his lips, trying to act casual, but his eyes were glued to you, dark and hungry.

You made your way over to him, hips swaying more than necessary, loving the way his jaw clenched as you got closer.

“Nice ears,” you teased, trailing a finger along the fake fox tail hanging off his waistband. “You here to hunt bunnies?”

Toji's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a thrill straight to your core.

"You should be careful, princess," he muttered, voice rough.

"Foxes eat bunnies for breakfast."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear.

"Is that a promise?"

His grip on his drink tightened, and you could see the strain in his muscles, how much he was holding back.

It was delicious. And you weren’t done teasing him just yet.

Throughout the night, you made sure to stay close enough for him to watch, but far enough to drive him crazy.

You danced with other people, laughed at the bar, making sure to catch his gaze every time you bent down to adjust your heels or flipped your hair over your shoulder.

Toji’s eyes followed you everywhere, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his glass, jaw clenched so hard it looked like he might break his teeth.

It wasn’t long before you saw him break.

The last straw was probably when you 'accidentally' brushed up against him, your ass pressing right into his lap as you leaned over the bar.

The way he cursed under his breath, hands clenching at his sides, sent shivers down your spine.

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you through the crowd, his movements determined, almost rough.

You barely had time to react before he was dragging you into a dimly lit bathroom at the back of the venue, locking the door behind him.

“Toji—” You started, but your words were cut off as he spun you around, pressing your back against the cold tile wall.

His body caged you in, the heat from him radiating through his clothes. The hard line of his erection pressed against your stomach, and you bit back a moan.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all night?” His voice was low, almost a growl, as he gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“Walkin’ around in that tiny little costume, fuckin’ teasing me. Y’think I wouldn’t notice?”

You smirked, hands sliding up his chest.

“Oh, I knew.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a groan, he crashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he was starving.

His hands were rough, needy as they roamed over your body, squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, sliding up to your chest as he shoved the fabric of your bodysuit down to expose your breasts.

You gasped as he bent down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your heat through the thin fabric, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your skin, pushing your bodysuit aside and slipping a finger into you.

“Already this wet, huh? You really are a little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His words sent a shock of arousal through you, and you bucked your hips, desperate for more.

Toji chuckled darkly, adding another finger, stretching you as he pumped them in and out at a torturous pace.

“Please,” you whimpered, grinding against his hand.

“Please, what?” He murmured against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Toji,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just please fuck me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Toji growled, pulling his finger out and spinning you around to face the mirror hanging above the sink.

His eyes gleamed darkly as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough so you were forced to look at yourself.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he pressed his body against yours, his hard cock teasing your entrance.

“You see what you do to me?”

You could barely manage a response, your breath coming in shallow gasps as your eyes met his in the reflection.

The sight of yourself bent over, Toji’s broad frame towering behind you, only heightened the dizzying pleasure coursing through your body.

Without warning, he thrust into you, burying himself deep with one rough motion. You cried out—loud, your eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh. Eyes open,” he demanded, tugging your hair harder, forcing your gaze back to the mirror.

“I want you to watch yourself while I ruin you.”

His hips snapped against yours, setting a punishing pace, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Your hands clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as you struggled to keep upright.

The intensity of the moment—the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his rough grip kept you exactly where he wanted you—had your body shaking.

“Toji—” You gasped, eyes fixated on the image in the mirror, watching the way your body jolted with every thrust.

His cock pounded into you relentlessly, your skin hot, sweat beading along your brow.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat, gripping just tight enough to make your head spin.

“Look at how desperate you are. So fuckin’ wet for me.”

You moaned in response, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezed just a little harder.

The sight of yourself, cheeks flushed, lips parted in helpless pleasure as Toji took you from behind, was almost too much to handle. You could feel him pushing deeper into you, your walls stretching more than they ever had.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.

For a split second, the reality of where you were crashed over you—a public bathroom, at a party, with Toji fucking you senseless.

The knock came again, harder this time, followed by an impatient voice.

“Hey, someone in there?”

You barely had time to process the interruption before Toji let out a low, dangerous growl.

He didn’t stop his movements, he continued to fuck you just as hard, just as deep, as he glared at the door.

“Fuck off,” he barked, his voice harsh, filled with irritation. “Busy.”

The person outside hesitated, clearly taken aback by his tone, but Toji was already refocused on you, slamming his hips harder into yours.

The knot of pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you as his cock filled you to the hilt with every thrust, your body trembling under the pressure.

His hand slid back to your clit, fingers rubbing tight, teasing circles, bringing you to the edge of oblivion.

“C’mon, baby,” Toji rasped, his breath hot against your ear.

“Cum for me. Show me how much you like watching me fuck you in front of that mirror.”

The words alone were enough to send you spiralling.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm ripped through you, every muscle tensing, your vision going white with the intensity of it.

Your body clenched around him, and Toji groaned deeply, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrust into you harder, chasing his own release.

With a final, guttural growl, Toji buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you completely.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, your body shaking from the aftershocks, Toji’s forehead resting against the back of your neck as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck…” He muttered, a smirk pulling at his lips as he finally loosened his grip on you, pulling out slowly.

His hands lingered on your hips, the possessive touch making your heart race all over again.

You glanced up at the mirror one last time, meeting his dark, satisfied gaze.

“You really do know how to make a scene,” you teased, voice breathless.

Toji chuckled, leaning down to press a rough kiss to the side of your neck.

“You love it.”

[tokkiwrites]

summary: Santiago works most days, so that doesn't leave a lot of room for the two of you. but he always finds time to teach you a lesson when you're bad. tags: masturbaton, retraints, orgasm denial, voyeurism( in a way), cum eating, dry humping, spit, slapping, degradation, relationship problems (??) but they work it out in the end. /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! here's the second story for you freaky bunnies, shorter with only 2.03k words, but i hope you enjoy it!

You sit by the window, the soft hum of the fan, the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. Outside, the sun is hanging low in the sky, casting long, lazy shadows across the street. You sigh, leaning back against the worn-out cushions, eyes tracing the same lines of the ceiling that you've stared at countless times before.

Santi’s at work again. He’s always at work. It feels like you’ve been living in two different worlds for a while now—his, filled with busy days and deadlines, and yours, here, waiting, day after day.

You glance at your phone, half-hoping to see a message, maybe something spontaneous. But the screen stays blank. Another hour passes, and you can’t help but feel the weight of the day pressing in on you. Time moves differently when you're alone—slower, heavier. You’ve already cycled through all the usual distractions: TV, scrolling mindlessly, flipping through an old book you barely care about.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When you first moved in together, everything seemed full of possibility. Nights spent talking until you fell asleep, lazy mornings together. But now, it's as if Santi is slipping into the cracks between the hours, a ghost in the space you share. It's been about three weeks since you last had sex. It wasn't so important, nor such a long time, but you kind of missed feeling wanted. You give into your sad state, memories of nights where he showed you how much he wants you, the way he indulged into youㅡ how you always stuck to his every command, wanting nothing other than to please him.

and you are needy.

Slowly, your hand creeps into your lazily tied sweatpants and under your panties; just those few thoughts of Santiago on top of you have got you dripping with arousal. You mutter a soft curse under your breath as you start drawing slow circles onto your bud. Quiet moans slip your parted lips, back arching against the couchㅡ time stops for a bit; you feel as you did the time you first met him. fantasizing about what he'd do to you.

The sound of the front door opening snaps you from your thoughts and actions, but you don’t move right away. Instead, you stay like that, splayed out on the couch, waiting. anticipating.

"Hey," he says softly, finally stepping into the living room. His voice is calm and familiar, but there's a hint of exhaustion behind it. You don’t immediately respond, waiting for his reaction, and, oh, do you get one. "What are you doing?" he finally asks, taking in your state. "Dunno..." You play clueless, dragging the word out as if it’s too much hand still in that same place. "What's it look like?"

He narrows his eyes slightly, caught between amusement and bewilderment. "You waitin' for me, baby?" You just shrug, not really giving him much, enjoying the way he’s trying to figure you out. “Maybe I am.” His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can see that familiar spark in his eyes—the one that used to light up when the two of you would banter like this, teasing, pushing each other. he's hungry for you.

"You know you just gotta ask. I always give you what you want." you sigh. "Yeah...but not anymore." he chuckles, throwing off his jacket onto the nearby ottoman. "I think you're just being a brat. Maybe I've spoiled you too much." you try to sit up from the couch, but he's quick to push you back down, eyes roaming over your body. "I don't fuck you for two weeks, and this is what i get, baby? when all i do is work forㅡ god." he smiles, "you know you got me wrapped around your little finger."

"It's been three weeks." You say the words before you can stop them. "Oh?" he coos. "Is that what this is about?" Santiago lowers his head, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath. you want to kiss him so bad it actually hurts, but before you can do or say anything, he breaks the silence with a stern tone. "Take of my belt."

"sorry?" your eyes widen a bit, but he cuts you off quickly. "Excused. Take it off, now." You hesitate, your breath catching in your throat, but his presence, so close, so commanding, makes it impossible to resist. With trembling hands, you reach for his belt buckle, the weight of the moment making every second feel like an eternity.

The belt finally comes undone with a quiet click, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Santiago’s expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and intense stare that pricks at your skin. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hand as he takes the belt from you. The ache of wanting him so badly nearly overwhelms you, but he holds you there, suspended in the moment.

"Good," he says quietly, "On your knees." The need to obey him surges within you, stronger than anything you've felt before. It's an overwhelming pull, not just because of his commanding presence, but because something about the way he speaks, the fire in his eyes, makes it impossible to resist. Every word he utters demands your attention, your submission, as if disobedience isn’t even an option.

"gimme your hands, pretty girl."

It's not just about what he's asking—it's about the control he holds over you in that moment, the power he has. And the truth is, you don't just feel compelled to follow his commands. You want to. So you kneel in front of him. Without a word, he folds the leather in half, and before you can fully process what's happening, he grabs your wrists gently, pulling them together. The cool leather slides against your skin as he wraps the belt around your wrists, tightening it just enough to make your pulse quicken.

His movements are slow, deliberate, as though savoring the control he's taking. Your breath hitches, and all you can focus on is the feeling of restraint, the belt holding you in place. The heat between you rises, and your heart races. Santiago pulls the belt tighter with a firm tug as he speaks up again. "Now you sit and watch." and your eyes widen as he plops down on the couch in front of you, all whilst undoing his pants.

His large hand slides into his trousers, finally setting free his aching shaft. He stares you dead in the eyes as he wraps a tight grip around it, and with slow motions, he starts touching himself. Santiago’s low moans fill the room. you can feel yourself dripping more and more as the moments settle. You wanted to move closer to help him, but his gaze was keeping you in place. "And here I was thinking you were being a good girl while I'm gone, turns outㅡ" he moans "turns out you're a needy whore. is cock all you think about, hm?"

"santi, please.." You whine, bringing your tied wrists up, as if praying. "I'm sorry, please... untie me so I can help.." he can only laugh through strained moans as he pumps himself faster. "Doesn't work like that, baby." it was excruciating, watching him do it all whilst you were on your knees, trying to get off just by rubbing your thighs together. you bit down your moans; he'd never done something like this. yes, he did punish you, but not to this extent. he usually gave into your pleads in two seconds topsㅡ maybe this was his way of showing you that he's still full of surprises even after all this time.

You can feel yourself practically drooling as Santiago put on a show. You see him throw his head back, hips bucking in the air. he was close to finishing and no matter how shameful it felt, your mouth was watering.

"C'mere." Santiago’s voice makes you jump. You nod, trying your best to crawl towards him with your wrists retrained, knees weak. He'd never seen you so desperate. "Openㅡ Wider!" You obey every word, waiting. With a few more moves from his wrist, he lays white ropes all over your blushed face and onto your tongue, the sudden feeling making you scrunch up your face. with his index finger, he closes your jaw for you. "swallow." and you do. with that same finger, he gathers the rest of his seed from your face, urging it into your mouth. "Come on, openㅡ there you go." he praises as he smears the substance on your tongue. The man makes you stay like that, mouth agape, catching you off guard when you feel him spit inside of it. Santiagos rough palm makes contact with your cheek in a harsh slap before he grabs you by the face. "Close it." You do as you're told, tears rolling down your stinging skin. when he's satisfied, he leans back on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Clean it up." he points to his shaft with little effort. you've never been so content and grateful in your whole life. With the urgency, you wrapped your lips around him, earning a soft laugh from the man. as you settle between his things, you manage to sneak your tied hands between your legs for better access to your aching cunt. you were almost there, so close, but it all fades away when Santiago kicks your hands away withhis foot, and tugs at your hair. "Don't get fucking greedy now. You don't get to come now. You do when I let you." you whine some incoherent pleads, protesting, before he sinks your head down again.

"Maybe this is what you need. I need to keep you tied and on your knees, make you suck this cock every time i come from work. you'd like that?" you moan around his length, all messy and teary-eyed. "Yeah, baby, i know- look at you." he slaps your cheek again. "You're all happy when you have my dick in your mouth." you can feel his foot creep up between your thighs, and you gasp for air as you feel it rub against your clothed folds. you try to move your hips for more contact, all whilst your tongue lulled out and around Santiago’s shaft. "There she is.." he tuts, tangling his fingers into your hair, parting your mouth away from him, a long string of saliva latching on. you gasp and rub against him, vision hazy and brain too fuzzy to say anything more. warmth pools at your stomach, the pulsing need making you tightly close your eyes but another slap to the face makes you look up. "You look at me. Like that-" you frantically rub against his foot, nails digging into your own palms. "Dirty fucking girl."

" ㅡ'm gonna come" You manage to choke out. "Go ahead. make me proud, baby" it's all you needed; you let go, millions of fireworks going off in your stomach as you writhe at his feetㅡ a soft string of 'thank yous' as you cry, forehead pressed against his thigh. you sit for a moment, the only sound ringing faintly in your ear as you come down from your high.

He leans in, placing a hand on the crown of your head, his voice softening. "You know I’m still here, right?" The tension that had been building up inside you eases in an instant, the warmth of him beside you, reminding you of all the reasons why you’ve waited. You tilt your head, resting it lightly on his palm, your fingers brushing against his leg.

"I know," you murmur. "It just gets hard when you’re not around so much."

Santi’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you up in his arms. "I’ll try to do better," he whispers, lips brushing your temple. "Promise." You don’t need a big conversation, not right now. Just this—the quiet, the closeness, and the feeling that, for a moment, things are the way they used to be.

"santi, 'm still tied." you finally speak up, head on his chest. "I know, baby. I'm not done with you." he'll make up for those three weeks.

[dearharriet]

Whatever; Steve Harrington 🌓

summary: they say you’ll meet every person in your life twice. the second time you meet steve, you’re in college, and he’s very different from what you remember.

word count: 3.2K

warnings: fem!r, mentions + content of previous bullying, ex-bully!steve, alcohol consumption, some unresolved emotions, angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: i swear im alive i’m just stupidly busy. hope y’all like this one xxx

You circled back to Steve so quickly that a lick of embarrassment flamed at your cheeks, but really, you couldn’t have stopped it. His presence was fascinating, and like a passerby can’t look away from a car accident, you couldn’t resist inspecting Steve.

The house was very dark and humid, crowded with people that went to your university, and people who didn’t. Steve, for example, who had appeared—now for a second time—seemingly out of nowhere. Two weeks ago you’d spotted him at a party across town that a scene band threw, but he’d disappeared before you could talk to him. Tonight, he wasn’t so lucky.

To your relief, he received your sudden presence very gracefully, almost sheepishly. He was bowing his head and his broad shoulders shrunk together carefully. You wanted to say something very bold, something to grab his attention like fancy meeting you here, but the totality of your unfamiliarity made you hesitate.

“Where’ve you been?” you shouted instead, hugging your chest to feign casualness. It sounded, you realized, like you were inquiring as to where he’d been five minutes ago, not indefinitely post-graduation. Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“Hawkins,” he replied, matter-of-fact. “You?”

“Hawkins?” you repeated, ignoring his courtesy. “That’s not like you.” In truth, you probably knew very little about what would be like him and what would not, so you tacked on, “Not to be presumptuous or anything, sorry.”

In school, you and Steve saw very much of each other yet spoke next to never. In the spring of your sophomore year, Tommy Hagan’s father made him walk about the neighborhood and offer to mow lawns for money—something about growing hair on his chest, forming a sense of responsibility—and your mother had just broken her wrist, so she gave him a five dollar bill every Saturday for three months to help out. Tommy was awful at it, and he loathed you, and when you returned to school in September he’d dragged Carol and Steve with him into his loathing.

One day, you couldn’t recall what date—or even what month—but you remembered the three of them had come to find you after classes were done after you’d stayed late. You missed a question on some test, or there was something about a project, whatever. You knew it was late because the halls were empty, and your recollection of that relied heavily on the memory of Carol’s chilling laugh echoing down them, which you never forgot.

“God, Tommy, you’re sadistic.”

They prowled closer, just around the bend. Tommy and Carol were chortling and you could imagine them hanging all over each other the way that they often did. Steve cut in abrasively, something frenetic in his tone.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here, man.”

Steve’s voice bounced down the corridor and sounded back, like radar pinging around and around, detecting movement.

“Relax, Harrington, what’s the rush?”

“Rachel’s waitin’ on me, that’s what,” Steve replied. “And I still gotta drop you two assholes off.”

“Your gal-pal can wait, Steve,” Carol sneered, and you thought her voice was edged with something sharper than exasperation. “Besides, this’ll be fun.”

They turned the corner, and you realized then that it was likely you they were looking for, and it was suddenly too late to turn and hide. You froze, bag heavy on your shoulder and damp starting to form on your brow.

“Ah-ha! Just the girl we wanted to see,” Tommy sang, his voice already lilting meanly. You took a step back, wondering if they’d really chase you if you bolted. Carol had heeled boots on, and you were certain Tommy and Steve wouldn’t hunt down a girl no matter how twisted they were. A guy, sure, but you?

It didn’t matter, because you didn’t run, which you could only blame on yourself and your tendency to petrify under pressure. Anything you chose seemed the worst option, which made the logical solution to do nothing.

“She looks about ready to run,” Carol peered as they came closer, which was very astute for her, all things considered.

“Yeah, maybe.” Tommy grinned. “You wanna play, goodie-two-shoes? Me ‘n Steve’ll give you a head start.”

In retrospect, the roles of Tommy and Carol and Steve, and even you, are played by their fully grown versions. Of course you all looked very young, sounded very young—being fifteen at the time—but it all comes back as if it happened yesterday. It’s warped by everything that happened after.

“Yeah, why don’t you just get it over with, save us all a little time?” Steve picked, his expression almost bored.

You pressed your lips together. Carol stepped behind you, prodding at your bag, and you recoiled, backing closer to the lockers.

“Nah, she’s too chicken-shit,” she hissed, and then ripped your bag from your arms. When you lunged for her, Tommy pushed you back into the metal wall of lockers, and your shoulder blade landed hard on a dial-lock.

“Jesus H Christ, Tommy,” Steve laughed awkwardly, “could you have pushed her any harder?”

“Whatever, man,” Tommy waved him off, watching as Carol dug through your satchel. “You’re soft.”

Steve’s features tightened then, all of a sudden like a switch had been flipped. He took his hand out of his hair and strode over to Carol, taking your bag and emptying its contents onto the linoleum. Notebooks and pens, highlighters and, embarrassingly, a heap of pads, all washed over the floor. Carol had your journal in her hands and Steve took that too, discarding it with everything else.

“I’m fuckin’ tired of this shit,” he muttered, “let’s go.”

“Boo,” Carol complained, “what a wet blanket.”

“Yeah, why don’t you stay here with the teachers’ pet,” Tommy gibed, gesturing at you, “since you both love being L-A-M-E.”

He spelled the word out, holding a backwards L on his forehead that Carol copied.

“Yeah, and who’s gonna drive you home, Tommy?” Steve challenged. Tommy clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes petulantly. Carol’s hip popped as she dropped her hand, lips smacking. “That's what I thought.”

Steve brushed past them then, properly regal and entitled, and they followed him begrudgingly, swapping resentful glances until you couldn’t see them anymore.

In the minutes it took to gather your things back into your bag, you couldn’t resist the cloudy thought that Steve dumping your bag felt like a mercy. In the company of many rabider dogs, his offense was almost magnanimous, and, despite it being your things, felt more targeted at Tommy and Carol than at you. On your way home you decided that that was stupid, and that you were likely feeding into a fantasy that would eventually hurt you.

It wasn’t until after graduation that you realized they were bullying you. At the time it obviously hadn’t felt friendly, but you’d been so fictile then that you assumed most of the blame. When your mind changed, the word bullying alone felt too childish to bear, so you decided it was fine and that you were over it.

Standing before you at the party, Steve was folded in on himself. The memory juxtaposed so coarsely against how he looked now.

“Not like me?” he repeated.

“I just mean,” you continued, “I would’ve thought you’d go to school. Here in Chicago, maybe. I don't know. Indi, at the least.”

He shook his head, cradling his damp beer can closer.

“Yeah, well, I'm not smart like you,” he answered. “I didn’t really get accepted anywhere.”

Steve’s cheeks pinked with embarrassment, but he didn’t look all that dejected. You were sure that was the nicest thing he’d ever said to you, and the added element of self-depreciation threw you off-kilter.

“You still talk with Carol and Tommy and stuff?” It wasn’t much of a question, but Steve looked profoundly confused.

“What? No, I um—“ He licked his lips, looking down. “They ditched me when Hargrove came into town. You don’t remember?”

“Oh,” you said. “No, I must’ve missed that.”

“Yeah, that’s uh. S’ probably for the best. You shouldn’t have been caught up with us anyways.” It sounded like an apology, though not direct enough for you to accept in any way.

“Well it’s not like I never saw Tommy H. and Carol again,” you said, admittedly sour. “I figured you were off with Nancy or whatever. Where is she anyways?”

“Nancy?” You nodded. Shrugging, Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. We broke up in 1984.”

“Oh,” you jolted , “sorry about that.”

“Nah, don’t be.” He looked very sorry about it himself, like he was still wishing it away.

“Well, I am. I always thought you two would get married or something. She seemed like she knew how to keep you in line.”

Steve smiled softly, vaguely.

“Yeah, Nancy’s like that.”

His sentence ended there and didn’t pick back up, and you felt terribly anxious about what to say next. As often as you denied it, you did want to see people from school again, if only to show them they didn’t win. You wanted to happen upon Steve The Hair Harrington, or Tommy H. or Carol Perkins or anyone at all just to affirm that, yes, you were doing significantly better than they expected you to. You wore shoes with heels and makeup and you were just like them, only you could writhe in shameless glory because you were never a prick.

“So what do you do? No school?”

Steve leaned closer then, apprehensive as he brought his mouth to your ear.

“D’you wanna talk outside?” He asked, and then pulled back to gauge your expression. “I can’t hear very well,” he explained, some level of shame coloring him. You nodded tolerantly, following him out to the porch.

It was clear and cold in the Chicago suburbs, like a freshly opened bottle of coke, and you could see Orion’s Belt. You had on a white leather jacket that kept you just warm enough.

“You seem to like it better here,” Steve observed. Your earlier question stood forgotten from the journey outside.

“In a way,” you agreed.

“People are nicer?”

You pinched your brows thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t say nicer, no.” Fiddling with your jewelry, you looked at the sky. “People have been rude to me here before, but it’s…it isn’t like Hawkins.” You swallowed a freezing breath, wondering if Steve was really standing next to you. “I can leave at any time if it gets to be too much. Or, like, tell them to fuck off if I wanted to. In high school I just had to sit there and take it, and then come back the next day for more.”

Blowing out a stiff laugh, you looked back to Steve. His eyes were downcast, face crumpled, and it looked like he would eat his own mouth before he said a word in response. It was painfully silent, so silent that the wind and your racing heart played a spoilt song together at Steve’s inattentive audience.

Your face felt warm with humiliation. Conversation had grown on you, or so you thought, enough that you wouldn’t become carried away into overzealous speeches to people who didn’t care. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, frowning.

“Do you like Chicago?” You asked Steve, and it turned brittle in the air, like a wisp of ash from a fire.

“I’m so sorry,” his aggrieved response came, and it carved your chest open to hear, in a way. It was something you imagined, a moment you craved, a fantasy you knew would never occur. Now that it had, you felt a million miles away, like he’d said some magic word and hypnotized you, stealing your present mind and leaving you cavernous and vulnerable.

“It’s really okay, Steve,” you said hoarsely. “We were kids, and you were as stuck as I was.”

“I was not,” he sternly denied.

“Sure you were,” you insisted, “it was eat or be eaten. I can’t blame you for not wanting to be picked on.”

“Because I would have died from being unliked,” he retorted sarcastically. You gave him a look as if to say that’s not fair, but you knew he was right. It would have been a different kind of unlike for him. If he’d forfeited his social standing, all of the cruelty and indifference he got would have been directly his decision, and his courage would have been gratifying enough to sustain him.

“Well,” you stammered persistently, “I still think you’re okay. I forgive you.”

“Look, I’m—“ Steve huffed, scrubbing at his hair anxiously. “I���m not trying to fish for compliments. Really. I just have this terrible feeling that you convinced yourself that it’s okay, what all happened in school. But it’s not okay. It’s not.”

He looked into your eyes hotly, a wild turn to his features, and you felt oddly nauseous. You looked at your shoes to avoid his stare, slim heeled boots that all the pretty girls wore in school, and you wondered how you’d feel about those girls if you’d never slipped them on, never had a guy take you home because you looked so good in them.

“What do you want me to do, then?” you asked.

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Whatever you feel,” he replied, “what I want is besides the point.”

“Not to me,” you mumbled, and then regretted it instantly. You pulled your jacket tight around you and shivered, said: “I don’t know what to do.”

A tear tracked hot and shameful down your cheek, dancing with the porch light and the stars and Steve’s eyes. You felt like the whole world was watching you flounder and choke like a fish on a dock. You sucked in, and air stole down your throat in three distinct parts, stuttering and painful.

Steve reached for you then, taking your arm into his grip and crushing you to his chest. Through teary eyes you could spy into the house where the party still thundered. It looked shockingly vibrant and warm inside, a world away from your moment with Steve on the frigid veranda. He was holding your head gently and rubbing at your back, and you could only think of how much you’d been craving this. How you’d yearned over intellectual conversations and counseling sessions for something as real as this moment, here, with Steve. He knew you better than anyone inside, anyone in Chicago, even, and you could not fathom how that had happened.

Pressing into him, you sniffled pitifully and hid your face.

“Sorry for crying,” you said, “I really didn’t want to.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve said, for the second time that night. You liked the way he said it, with a soft sternness that left no room for argument. He even went on further to say: “It’s okay if you want to cry some more.”

You rubbed his sleek jacket between your fingers and looked at him.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

Steve laughed, and you knew then that he wouldn’t, like you knew he wasn’t laughing at your expense.

“Who am I gonna tell?” he asked genuinely. You thought about it.

“Tommy or…” Steve shook his head. “No, right, you said that.”

You pretended to think some more, but you had nothing. You said, “I don’t know,” and then expected Steve to give you a name, like you were playing a guessing game and you’d lost. Instead, he drew his arms tighter around your shoulders, so that your chin was trapped on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I won’t tell a soul if that’s what you want,” he admitted, a shiny frond of his hair escaping the fray to sway between you two. “I think I’d do whatever you asked, actually.”

He seemed very affronted by that fact, as if he was only discovering it as he told you, right then.

“Would you—” You licked your lips. Looked at Steve’s. Asked: “Would you kiss me?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “‘course.”

He kissed you then, acerbic ale transferring from his lips to yours. The stray hair caught between your foreheads, doing what your noses could not and flattening. Steve’s hands held you firmly, at the back of your neck and on your upper arm, and it made you shudder. He was kissing you dizzy—not nearly the first you’d ever had, but certainly the first that felt worthwhile, the first that felt good and right and deserved.

As you pulled away shyly, Steve kept his eyes closed, his jaw working and his breath uneven.

“Steve?” you called.

“Hm?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Steve hummed negatively, tapping his forehead back onto yours and finally blinking his eyes open.

“No, sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” You smiled, and Steve grinned knowingly, like he could tell he’d be hearing that a hundred times a week from then on. You asked him what he was thinking and he fiddled with your jacket collar nervously.

“Just about you. In Chicago and everything. Where that puts us.” Steve scrunched his face in a sort of wince like that might upset you. “I mean, not that there has to be an us at all—if that’s not what you want, or if I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He says the last bit like a question, like a request. Like: Please say I’m not getting ahead of myself?

“No, I wouldn’t say you are,” you assured him. “I didn’t even think about the distance. Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said without hesitation, but a small abashed smile played on his lips. “But I meant what I said, whatever you say goes. Whatever you want me to do.”

You looked him over, from the tallest strand of his styled hair down to where your chests met, taking in his moles and the fibers of his shirt.

“Do you have anyone at home that you’d miss?” you asked, and Steve’s face said everything, even as he shook his head stubbornly.

“Baby, whatever you want. Ask me to move up and I will.”

Smiling, you kissed him curiously, the feeling so novel and thrilling. His responding squeeze on your arm shot through you to your very center.

“I still have my family in Hawkins,” you told him dazedly. “I go home every holiday. We can visit. And it’s only a year and half before I graduate, and then we can figure something new out.”

Steve smiled dryly, perhaps anticipating a different answer, but ultimately you knew it’d be best not to rush anything. You were content, all of the excitement and adrenaline seeping from your body and making you feel soft around the edges. You shivered a touch, and Steve rocked you both to and fro.

“Do you wanna go back inside,” he asked, his mouth on your hairline. You shook your head, stuffing your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Can we stay here just a little longer?” you pleaded.

“‘Course we can,” Steve granted, soothing his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you want.”

+

thank u for reading xx

masterlist

[lost-in-lamentation]

🧭🏥🎐 - rescue, injury, lullaby.

mammon × gen!reader. hurt/comfort. fluff.

warnings: violence committed against reader (first paragraph). mentions of blood and serious injuries. DO NOT READ if you are uncomfortable with this.

content: when you get kidnapped, mammon is the one to save you from danger, disaster, and everything in between.

back to the 500 follower event: here.

the world spun as you felt a hand grab your hair and pull your face up. you could barely tell who the perpetrators were, between the blood that flowed down your forehead and blocked your sight, and the way your eyes refused to focus at all. muffled voices echoed in your ears, but you had neither the strength nor desire to make out what they were saying. with a low groan, you dropped your chin to your chest when you felt the hand release you. how long had you been here? you didn't want to know. you didn't want to remember. your eyes fell shut, allowing you a moment of respite, before all hell broke loose.

you heard screaming coming from all around you. you fought to open your eyes, just catching a glimpse of what seemed like a tuft of white hair in the dark quickly knocking down your kidnappers. suddenly, there was a hand gripping yours, cutting through the ropes that bound your wrists together as he whispered into your ear, "i'm sorry i couldn't find you sooner."

relief flooded your chest, tears threatening to run down your cheeks as your hands were freed. "mammon," you cried weakly, eyes locking with his as he rounded the chair to stand in front of you.

"i know, i know. it's okay now. promise." mammon's jaw was tight. anger burned in his gaze like a wildfire, but his hands were gentle as he tried to wipe off the blood on your face. "i gotta get you outta here. you okay if i carry you?"

too weak to protest (and too weak to run), you nodded slowly, waiting until mammon crouched down in front of you to place your hands on his shoulders. carefully, mammon hooked an arm underneath your knees before turning you to the side and locking his other arm around your back. your own arms slipped away from his shoulders, falling onto your stomach with a worried look from the demon. "my arms- i can't keep them up for that long," you explained quietly.

the concern on his face didn't go away, but he wouldn't dare tell you to do what you couldn't. instead, mammon adjusted you to a higher position, keeping you close enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder. "bear with me for a bit." mammon pressed his lips to the crown of your head, leaving a fleeting kiss before taking off.

you knew he was fast. in fact, it was for the best that he was quick in taking you away from where you had been held. but with how quick mammon was moving, you couldn't help but wince each time he took another step. they had beaten you more than you had realised, and finally being out of the cave made you feel each and every bruise along your body. the gash on your leg made itself particularly well known as it bounced repeatedly on mammon's torso. unable to hold it anymore, you released a small cry, fingers tightening on the fabric of mammon's shirt.

the second born came to a stop, chest rising and falling as he turned to look at you. "are we being followed? hang on." he didn't dare leave a spare second of time, eyes catching on a nearby cave before he sprinted over and ducked inside. once in the cover of dark, you felt mammon shifting you in his arms, placing you down on the ground before stepping away to the entrance.

"no- mammon," you called quietly, arm trembling as you reached out to him. he made a quiet noise of concern, shuffling back to you as quick as he had left. "we're not being followed, i just..." you stopped to try and find the right words. "you were running too fast... it hurt to be carried like that." timidly, your words tapered off, feeling sorry that you had stopped him for such a reason.

but mammon only gave you a look full of guilt, blue eyes scanning your body before he pulled his leather jacket off. "i should have realised that," mammon sighed softly. you said nothing as you watched him tear his sleeve off. "sorry, if this hurts. i'm not as good at it as lucifer and levi are." you responded with a confused expression, but when mammon began to wrap the area where your leg had been wounded, you quickly understood.

you gasped at the pain that shot through your nerves, feeling thorns and brambles clawing at your skin as mammon tried to tie off the fabric that now wrapped around your thigh. you gave a feeble attempt to roll away from his touch, but gave in with a whimper when he finally managed to knot the emergency bandage in place. mammon didn't dare meet your gaze, his lower lip quivering as he realised just how badly you were injured. the few seconds of silence felt like another kind of torture.

finally, mammon exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "we'll go when you feel better. take a nap for now."

"...you want me to sleep here?"

"you not able to?"

you felt your whole body shaking. "it's too cold."

with careful hands, mammon draped his jacket over you, then ran the backs of his fingers across your cheek lightly. "is that better?"

as much as you wanted to say yes, your shivering refused to stop. after all, his jacket was quite thin, and was doing nothing to combat the chills coming from your own body. instead of replying, you made an effort to sit up, but as soon as you managed to bring yourself upright, mammon had one hand on your back and the other on your stomach. "the hell you think you're doing? lie back down."

"i want to sit with you." your voice came out through a rasp, but the words had mammon gritting his teeth. you could practically see the internal warfare that waged in his head, but after a few heartbeats of hesitation, mammon finally resigned. he slid in between the wall of the cave and you, pulling you to sit between his legs and lean back on him. unsatisfied, you turned sideways so your legs fell on top of one of his. mammon quickly made room for your new position, allowing you to rest your cheek against his chest as he closed his arms around you. you relaxed into his hold, the fatigue finally catching up to you. yet, another part of you was still worried; afraid that your kidnappers might come and take you away a second time.

mammon, as perceptive as ever, dropped his chin to rest on your head, drawing you close. "i've got you."

you released a shaky breath, eyes falling shut as mammon began to hum a gentle melody.

goodnight, goodnight, it's time now to sleep.

the moon's watchin' over you and your dreams.

goodnight, goodnight, my sweet little one.

tomorrow, your eyes, they will light up the sun.

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

a/n: trying to get back into the swing of writing... aka all the stuff on the event masterlist (⇀‸↼‶)

song lyrics are from lullaby, by sleeping at last.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 14

Summary: Daryl confronts Shane in a furious outburst after discovering he broke the one promise that mattered most—keeping you safe. In a painful flashback, Daryl shuts down your attempts to reconnect, forced to push you away after Shane’s threats. As you struggle to understand his sudden distance, Daryl is torn between protecting you and the guilt of breaking your heart.

warnings: slight mention of blood/gore.

Daryl

X flashback x

The phone vibrated in Daryl’s pocket again, the third time in the past few minutes, but what felt like the millionth time in the past week. He clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew who it was. You'd been calling him for days now, and every time, he found a reason not to pick up. But now, the guilt gnawed at him so hard that his fingers twitched toward the phone before he could stop himself. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled the phone out and stared at the screen. Your name flashed at him like a challenge. He didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t. Not after everything Shane had said. Had done. But the thought of you waiting for his call, of you still holding on, made his chest feel tight. Against his better judgment, he pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Daryl?” your voice, soft but filled with worry, hit him like a punch. He winced, his heart kicking up in his chest. He should have let it ring. Should have ignored it again. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff, barely pushing out the word. He could already hear the relief in your voice, and it only made him feel worse. 

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you for days. Did something happen?”

He swallowed hard, forcing down the guilt. He didn’t want to lie to you. He didn’t want to hurt you. But Shane’s words echoed in his head: Stay away from her. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. Back off. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, trying to push the remorse down further. “Nah,” he muttered, his voice flat. “Just busy.”

You didn’t let up. You never did. “Too busy for your best friend?” Your voice was sharper now, the worry turning into frustration. “Come on, Dare. Talk to me, please. Are you mad at me? What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Instead, his chest tightened even more, and he clenched the phone harder. “Nothin’. Just leave it.”

The words came out clipped and cold, harsher than he meant. But what else could he do? You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Shane had made sure of that.

“Daryl, please,” your voice cracked, and he could hear the hurt in it. It twisted something deep inside him. He should hang up. End it now. Before he made it worse.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly, his throat tightening. He could feel his heart pounding harder, and all he wanted was to tell you the truth. To explain everything. But that would only drag you deeper into this mess. He couldn’t risk it. You were at school--with a future. You should finally take the chance to leave this shit hole, not let him keep you here. 

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and for a second, he thought you might say something else. But then your voice came through, small and broken. “Okay.”

Daryl felt like his chest could cave in as he pressed “end”, and stared at the phone in his hand, feeling like he’d just thrown something important away. Something he couldn’t get back.

He dropped the phone onto the table, running a hand through his hair, his chest still tight. He should’ve told you the truth. But what good would that have done? Shane had made it crystal clear the last time he’d seen him. Back off, or shit will go down. He knew Officer Shane Walsh could pull some shit to get Merle or him into trouble without needing a lick of proof. It wasn’t fair, but nothing in his life ever was.

Daryl leaned back against the wall, the silence settling in around him. He couldn’t shake the sound of your voice—hurt, confused, because of him. And he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that no matter what he did, he’d already lost you.

x flash forward x

The gravel crunches from the sound of tires slowly approaching, and Daryl whips his head up to see bright headlights shining through the glass.

“Daryl–” Rick starts, but he’s already out the room, nearly ripping the front door off its hinges as he flies out onto the porch. 

Shane Walsh is closing the truck door as Daryl approaches. He’s covered in blood and visibly exhausted. Limping, he walks to the house. But when he sees Daryl, he stops in his tracks.

Shane looks wrecked—clothes covered in dried blood, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. His eyes are blown wide in what could be shock, desperation. His face is a mess of exhaustion and pain, but Daryl doesn’t care. The only thing pounding in Daryl's ears is the sound of his own heartbeat, matching the heavy thud of his boots on the dirt. Every step Shane takes toward him fuels the storm brewing inside Daryl’s chest.

By the time Shane reaches him, Daryl’s entire body is a live wire of rage, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Without warning, Daryl surges forward and slams Shane against the truck with a force that sends the bags tumbling from Shane’s shoulders. The gun hits the ground with a loud clatter, but Daryl barely registers it.

“You were supposed to protect her,” Daryl roars, every word meant to be a physical blow as much as his hands on Shane. He grabs him by the front of his shirt, pushing him against the truck, “the only reason I ever—you made one promise, Shane! One!”

Shane’s wide, disassociating eyes meet Daryl’s, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even try to shove Daryl back. He lets himself be slammed against the truck, the impact rattling through his body. “Daryl—” he tries to say, but the words barely leave his lips.

“What the hell happened out there? How the fuck did you let her get shot, you piece of shit?” Daryl shouts at Shane, but suddenly there’s two hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he hears Rick’s voice behind him, pulling his body back.

Daryl forces out of Rick’s grip, but doesn't lunge again, fists balled tightly. His entire body shakes as he narrows his eyes at the man in front of him. His mind is racing, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a vice. He wanted answers, but none of them could change the fact that she was hurt. And it was Shane who let it happen.

“Give the supplies to the old man. At least he can actually do somethin'," Daryl growls before turning away, stomping his way back up the stairs into the dimly lit house. 

He had gotten kicked out of the room when they began their assault on your body–he couldn’t stand to watch anyway. Of all the blood he’d seen in his life from skinning his own kills, taking down walkers–hell, seeing other people get killed and bitten, or eaten alive–he couldn’t stand to see you cut open like that. Daryl chews the skin around his thumbnail as he paces in the middle of the night. The porch light casts everything past the trees into blackness. He sometimes looks toward them, thinking of the little girl out there all alone, but then his thoughts rush back to you, hoping that you’ll be alright. 

Rick and Lori are clutching one another on the side of the house, but Daryl hardly notices them as the rhythm of his footsteps seems to soothe him. Shane leans on the hood of the truck, his eyes cast down on the ground while they wait. Jesus, if he had to look at him any longer he might actually lose his shit. He hates looking at the man that tore Y/N from him all those years ago. Even though you went to college, he thought about the life you would’ve had with him if Shane Walsh hadn’t barged in like a disease, infiltrating your thoughts, beliefs…your heart. But when you had told him at the church that he was right about Shane and Lori, something that he had thought had burned out long ago warmed again. Like blowing softly on embers, a fire beginning to grow when you thought it almost went out. And then this absolute nightmare of her being shot in the woods made those embers blaze higher, licking at his insides, making his heart shoot into his throat when he thought of her in that bed. 

He briefly wonders about the others along the highway. He had seen Glenn and T-Dog finally arrive at the house a few hours after him. Shane barely looked at them as they strode into the house. They hadn’t been allowed into the room where the old man worked on Y/N’s wounds, but the daughter had helped T-Dog with his arm. Glenn sits on the front porch now too, rocking in the nearest chair with his head in his hands. 

Suddenly, the screen door opens quietly, and they all jump up to look at the man in the doorway. Hershel is wiping his hands with a clean cloth as he turns to all of them with a small smile, “both of them have seemed to stabilize,”

Daryl feels a small twinge of guilt that he momentarily at the realization he forgot Carl was in there, bandaged and wounded too. His injury wasn’t as fatal, but the poor kid still needed medical care. He watches Rick run over, smiling with tears in his eyes as he pulls the doctor into a tight hug. Hershel says something about Otis, something about having to tell Patricia about him. Daryl’s blank thoughts hardly even register the words as he stares at the man.

It feels like they’re all struck for words–dumbly staring at him. Daryl’s hands twitch as he itches to be back by your side. Hershel meets his eye, and nods his head over his shoulder, “go on, now, she might wake up soon,”

[lovebugism]

I would love to request a drabble for punchy x Steve where maybe they're hanging out together with the group for the first time and punchys a little nervous to see how they'll react to see seeing as her whole vibe is so different from every other of Steves exes basically lol

i had so much fun with this request!! hope you like it, anon! from the punchy x steve universe — the one where steve comforts you when you're too scared to tell his friends about your relationship (1.2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve’s been waiting all night to kiss you.

He knew inviting the whole gang over for a swim would put a wrench in his plans to love on you all night, but he didn’t think it would be this hard. Not holding you feels a little like a knife in his side. It hurts worse than every beating he’s ever taken, combined.

So he doesn’t waste a second to sneak out behind you when you leave for a smoke break. He waits exactly five minutes before following you out through the front gate. He finds you sitting on the hood of your car — a pretty little thing in all black sat upon a rusted tin can. 

You’re wearing a knit coverup over a one-piece bathing suit. It's about three sizes too big for you. The puffy sleeve falls to your elbow when you take a drag of your cigarette, then crawls back up to your wrist when you flick the end of it. The staunch smell of nicotine contrasts with the warmer scent of a dewy summer night.

“Think I can bum a smoke from you… buddy?” Steve asks when he climbs the hood to sit next to you.

The nickname is so obviously pointed. You laugh, high and airy. Smoke billows from your lips as you giggle. 

Dustin asked if you were dating earlier that night — deep blue eyes twinkling with hopeful embers you hated to snuff out. “Sorry, kid, but we’re not dating,” you fibbed in response, patting Steve on his shoulder. “We’re just a couple of best buds, aren’t we, bab— I mean, Steve?”

It wasn’t your best work by any means, but it got everyone off your back. That was all you really wanted to do, anyway.

“Always, Stevie,” you singsong as you pass him the lit cigarette between your fingers.

“Think it would be too much to ask for a kiss, too?” the boy wonders with raised brows and sparkling honey eyes.

You melt. 

“Never,” you hum with a shake of your head, already gravitating towards him. You had a tendency to do that a lot — to drift his way like he was a magnet compared to the metal of you. He welcomes you just the same, pressing his mouth to yours like his lips were made to do it.

The kiss is chaste and innocuous, gentle with the makings of a man who’s wanted to kiss you for several agonizing hours.

Your lips click in protest when they part. He smiles as he watches your heavy eyes flutter slowly open. You’re met with his pretty pink lopsided smile. “Think we should tell ‘em tonight?”

You lean away from him, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth as you ponder his question. 

You’d love to tell everyone about Steve, more than just your core group of friends. You want to shout your adoration for him from the rooftops, let it sing across the universe and back. But love was more complex than simple words, and the implication of that terrified you.

After a few moments, you shake your head — lazily and with your nose scrunched.

“What do you mean?” Steve laughs. The sound is bright enough to illuminate the starry evening. It’s bright yellow compared to the velvet blue sky. The boy rests his weight on one of his arms and gestures with the other. “We’ve gotta tell ‘em sometime, babe. ‘Cause if they find out on their own, I’m gonna be the one dealing with the bitching.”

“I just like not having to talk about it,” you confess with a quiet shrug. Your chin turns to your shoulder when you look over at him, meeting his glittering gaze with a meeker one. “I like just being with you and not having to talk about the… gross, icky, lovey stuff.”

“The gross icky lovey stuff?” Steve echoes with jettisoned brows.

“Yeah.”

“Like what?” he deadpans, bringing the lit cigarette to his mouth. “How in love with you I am?”

“Exactly,” you joke back with a feigned disgust.

Steve scoffs out a laugh as he hands the stick back to you. Smoke leaves his mouth in a wispy grey cloud. 

You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, but don’t move to take a hit of it. He knows it’s something deeper, then — something more you want to say. You keep it inside and get all in your head about it, though. Your eyes glaze over as you look off into the distance. Steve can read you like a damn book.

“What else?” the boy blurts.

Your eyes go wide as they flit back to his. “Huh?”

“You look like you wanna say something else.”

You blink at him for a moment, then shake your head innocently.

Steve reaches out a hand to nudge your shoulder. A soft smile tugs at the corner of his pink lips. “Come on. Just say it,” he urges gently. “Lay it on me, babe. I can take it.”

You laugh in response. It’s halfhearted, though, and your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you sigh with the same barely-there grin. Your eyes turn away from his, gaze going glassy as your stare turns to the darkening sky. “It’s just… The last person your friends saw you with was Nancy. And I know Robin is well up to date with all your other flings, ‘cause she said, and I quote, ‘he certainly has a type.’”

“Well, that’s just Robin,” the boy shrugs with pinched brows. “She’s an idiot. Sometimes she just kinda says stuff.”

“I’m just saying that… I’m not your type, you know?” you confess sheepishly, like it’s some deeply hidden secret. You have no idea it’s why Steve loves you so much — not despite how different you are, but because of it.

“I know,” the boy nods, meeting your timid glance with a bright grin.

“And I’m just scared that… that they’ll think it’s weird. You know, that we’re… together.”

“It is weird,” Steve affirms with a chuckle. “That’s why it’s so cool!” 

Your brows pinch. “…Really?”

“Yeah! I fucking love being your boyfriend, babe! And they’re gonna love you being my girlfriend!”

He says it all with wide eyes and pink smiles, so confident like it’s all obvious to him. He makes it sound so simple, smoothing out all your buzzing, complex insecurities with ease.

You scrunch your nose in response. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” he scoffs with a firm nod, then tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well... Robin will be a little jealous, probably. Dustin, too. And Eddie’s already got a whole complex about it, so…”

“So they’ll hate it,” you summarize with a smile.

“They'll hate all the gooey, icky, lovey stuff, sure. But they’ll love you— I mean, they already do. Way more than they love me.”

“You sound very sure about all this, Harrington.”

“It’s impossible not to love you, Punchy,” Steve confesses, growing suddenly very tender. “Everything you do— it’s like you’re made of, fucking— flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” you giggle.

The boy huffs. “I’m just saying that you’re too perfect not to fall in love with, okay? They’re gonna love you because it’s against human nature not to, you know?”

You don’t believe him. 

You know he’s not lying, but you don’t believe him. 

But rather than arguing, you reach out a hand for the one propping up his weight. You rest your palm along his knuckles and smile. Your skin buzzes when you touch him — Love? Euphoria? A schoolgirl giddiness? You’re not sure.

You just know happiness when you see him, touch him. 

Steve Harrington is a happily ever after.

Yours, hopefully.