#like i WANT sneers to have those little lines around the mouth i WANT crying to look a mix between angry and pained

[mattodore]

falls to my knees seeing the older version of this post was reblogged again instead of the NEW VERSION!!

i learned how to paint a flushed face, furrowed skin, and betters tears after i posted this originally so ignore the old version pwease the emotion on theo's face was all wrong 😞

memory holes litter my mind, blotting out years. i don’t follow the rabbit down them.

[colonelarr0w]

Can we pretty please have Sukuna reacting to his crush telling him that thier lover cheated on them. Like the reader has been in a relationship with this person for a few months.

Would he comfort her? At all?

Also can I be‼️ anon

Sypnosis - He may be heartless, that doesn't mean he'll stand silently by and watch as you get yours broken.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, mature themes, foul language, Sukuna is nice for once (?)

A/N - First time ever writing for Sukuna -- wish me luck! And yes, you can be that anon, I love you guys.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Brat, wipe those tears, you look pathetic," Sukuna says coldly, sneering at the sight of your tears running down your cheeks. You quickly lift your wrist, roughly rubbing the water from your eyes and turning yourself away from him.  

At the sight of you turning, oddly enough, he feels a strange sensation somewhere in his chest – what was it though? All he knew was that it wasn't anger, no, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry at you in that moment (shockingly).  

"Sorry," you mumble, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to silence your sobs, but the action does very little to prevent the shaking of your body. Sukuna notices, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.  

His head tilts at you; you had come to Yuuji asking for a movie night and snacks, which wasn't out of the ordinary. But what was out of the ordinary was that you showed up on Yuuji's doorstep crying.  

The fact that Yuuji relinquished control to Sukuna so easily was also shocking – but Sukuna was never one to complain about having control over what was rightfully his vessel.  

He lets out a small "tch" at your apology, turning himself away from you and crossing his arms over his chest. Some part of him wants to turn back around and inquire about what had happened – but at the same time he could genuinely care less. 

You remain silent in your place on the couch, knees curled up to your chest as you keep your watery eyes focused on the television, which plays a repeat of an old rom-com that you mentioned that you enjoyed. But from what Sukuna could see, the sight of the two main leads being happily in love is only worsening your mood – but why? 

Usually you would be smiling and chipper, pointing out everything that the male lead did for the female with a too-sweet smile plastered onto your face. But now you were just staring at the screen with a look that Sukuna couldn't describe – and he despised it.  

`"What's going on? You're never this silent, I detest it," Sukuna comments, angrily scrunching his nose as he turns sharply to glance at you. Your hands tighten over your knees, eyebrows pinching together as you bite back the fresh round of tears that cling to your lash line.  

"Nothin' happened. Jus' wanted to come over and watch a movie," you lie through your teeth, voice slightly muffled from where you keep your mouth pressed against your clothed legs. Sukuna clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, glaring at you.  

"Liar." 

"I'm not lying." 

"You are. I only know because you're fucking terrible at it," Sukuna spits, furrowing his eyebrows together in frustration as you look away from him again. Your eyes water, and you lift your wrist to swipe away the tears before they have the chance to fall – remembering what Sukuna had just said about them rendering you 'pathetic'.  

"Nothin' happened. Even if something did, why would it matter to you?" Your voice is laced with a bitterness that Sukuna hadn't heard in you before – and honestly, he didn't think that you were capable of sounding so cold.  

"It doesn't. I just don't wanna deal with your sulking," Sukuna rolls his eyes, resting his cheek against his knuckles as he sneaks another glance at you. You seem to sink further into the couch – there's that sensation again. What the fuck was it? 

You remain silent, keeping your eyes fixed on the movie, which is nearing its conclusion. The male lead tenderly reaches for the female, holding her face and steering her lips to his own. Sukuna notices your nails digging into your legs, no doubt leaving behind angry red marks that you would complain about later.  

"So talk." 

You glance at Sukuna, narrowing your eyes at the unfamiliar tenderness that flickers in his irises. Your eyes involuntarily water, eyebrows furrowing together as you look back to the television screen.  

"Nothin'. My boyfriend – he just, y'know, got bored of me. Guess my best friend looked better," you explain offhandedly, obviously trying to downplay the situation for the sake of not working yourself up. But Sukuna could tell that the situation deeply bothered you, judging by the way you blink back your tears and curl your arms impossibly tighter around your legs.  

Sukuna's hands subconsciously curl into white-knuckled fists, anger flaring up in his chest as he mulls your words over in his head. He shocks himself – why did he care so much about what happened to you? Why did he suddenly have the overwhelming urge to strangle the life out of your now ex-boyfriend? 

"He what?" Sukuna all but growls, turning his head to settle all of his attention on you. You, however, don't spare him another glance, not wanting to see his mocking expression or the smirk that he's most definitely wearing in response to your sadness.  

A shame that if you had looked up, you would see the genuine anger that Sukuna displays.  

"Wasn't slick about it either, but it's whatever," you say with faux indifference, shrugging your shoulders. You sigh shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks as the movie in front of you ends. "It's whatever Sukuna." 

"It can't be whatever if you're staining the couch with tears," Sukuna bites back, glaring at you – though his anger is very clearly directed elsewhere. You let out a shaky sigh through your nose, not wanting to discuss the situation further.  

"Well it is whatever, so fucking drop it," you growl out, voice wavering slightly as you reach for the television remote, flicking through channels until you land on some random documentary, opting to leave it on for background noise. 

Sukuna grumbles something incoherent, lifting his legs to cross them over one another as he sits silently on the couch across from you. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to sneak glances at you, taking mental notes of your body language and facial expressions.  

"I'm...sorry that he did that to you," Sukuna grumbles out, his voice at a volume that you nearly miss. The tenderness in his voice is so foreign, but at the same it sounds so natural coming from him – almost like he had rehearsed this very scene a thousand times over in his head.  

You sit there stunned for a moment, not having expected Sukuna to be offering you his condolences. In truth, you didn't need them, nor did you want them – but the fact that he had softened up for a passing moment to say those words to you brought a little bought of warmth to your stomach.  

"It's whatever," you say again, this time with a bit more indifference than before. Sukuna finds himself smirking, which he tries to hide but to no real avail – you catch it just before it fades away.  

He'll pay your ex-boyfriend a visit later, right now, he wants you to keep that barely there smile on your face. 

[romanoffsbish]

We All Have Scars

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Fem!R x GN!OC (Robin)

WandaNat x F!R

Request | WC: 8,088

Warnings: Shitty Partner | Mental Breakdown | Breast Reduction (Insecurities) | Angst -> Fluff (H/C)

Smut: Oral (R) | Fingering (R) | Thigh Riding (R) Enchanted Strap (R receiving / All affected) | Overstimulation | Soft & Dirty

"Did you see Y/N?" You stopped dead in your tracks as you heard your name come from the agency creeps mouth. You were meant to only be passing the break room. Being an Avenger now you hardly ever came to Shield's HQ, but their agents missions would occasionally overlap with more serious affairs, and when they did you were brought here to debrief.

What you didn't expect was to hear people talk about you so casually as if this wasn't still a work environment. Eavesdropping was taboo, but you justified it after hearing your name.

Part of you wished you'd never stayed...

——

"Of course I have Marvin," the familiar voice of your partner startled you, the fact that they'd engage in a conversation with the company sleaze threw you off, but it was their following words that really left you feeling uneasy. "I fuck her dumb on the regular, or did you forget?"

"That's actually why I'm asking," he chuckled, you could just picture the sinister expression as he goes on, "Why would you let a woman like that lessen her greatest asset? Those boobs of hers were once the center of my wet dreams."

You'd felt bile rising, and as they spoke next your mouth was overtaken by a putrid film.

"Let?" They sneered in question, "I begged her not to, but she's stubborn, and didn't listen. Honestly, she'd have been better off for it had she because her chest is all scarred up now. I can't even fuck her without the lights off."

Everything came crumbling down for you in that clarifying moment, the clipboard in your hand tumbling to the ground, and alerting the people to your presence behind the oak door.

You didn't stay long enough for them to see you though, it was purely instinctual the way your legs were taking you to the only place you felt like you could find solace. Running so fast through the place that once employed you, and failing to see the looks of pure concern on your friends faces as you brushed right by them.

Wanda heard snippets of your thoughts as you rushed right by her and Natasha, and her heart absolutely shattered at just how little you thought of yourself. She was desperate to know why, but invasion was never an option for her. So against her hearts desires for understanding she didn't dive deeper, but with the way you were crying so openly, and the emergence of your bewildered looking partner she knew.

The witch shared a look with her girlfriend, and after a moment of eye contact the redhead was bolting it down the hallways in line with the route she knew you'd be taking. It was the only place you felt safe when in such a space.

As Natasha left she knew your, likely to be ex, was in for a world of hurt. They'd been hoping for the dissolution of your arrangement for ages now, but they would never have wanted it to be at the expense of your very wellbeing.

Nonetheless, Wanda would handle them well.

After a minute of sprinting she came to a stop outside of the very oak tree she and Wanda had spent months building a treehouse on for you. The house itself was put together by Natasha and Clint, the retired archer who came around one day and took an instant liking to you, in a similar way as the longtime couple had. But the homey decor was all Wanda's work, as was the enchantment that kept it invisible to others.

Only the Avengers could see it. It was also even more restrictive with entry privileges, as only you, and the couple could enter uninvited.

As the redhead used the sturdy ladder to climb up she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. The adrenaline, spurred on by her need to reach you was quickly wearing off. Her body was begging her to just take a deep breath, but she could hear your distinct, hysterical sobs so she settled on taking in a labored set of breaths as she just continued to overexert her body.

Upon entering she saw you hunched over in a corner of the room with your head in your hands as your body shook uncontrollably. Natasha wanted to hold you, to scoop you up and shield you from the looming darkness but she knew you needed the option to choose.

"Y/N," Natasha cautiously approached you, her hands were reaching out for you but you were hesitant to accept her touch. You knew she was good, that she'd never hurt you, but your gut also reminded you that you thought the same thing about your parents, who used to patch up your "boo-boo's," until they sold you off to Hydra at five once your brothers were born.

They couldn't afford three mouths to feed, and they deemed yours the one worth sacrificing.

Then there was Strucker, the man you'd once called papa before he became the actual devil. One second you're playing with his monocle while perched upon his desk, then the next you're becoming another one of his lab rats. He made the decision to become ruthless with you as soon as you'd turned ten, and were ready to physically undergo the life altering trials.

Your mistrust fully bloomed with that betrayal.

Every time you made a connection, the other person would be shocked at your eagerness to trust in them. Most people pitied you really, so desperate to be loved by another that you'd easily settle for mediocrity. With every single partner you'd give them all of you, and they only ever found new ways to tear you down.

You finally thought you got it right with Robin, but you realized now you didn't. They were just like the rest of them, and you were finding it increasingly hard to cope with another loss.

Robin was a dream, they were the same person who flashed you a warm smile a little over six months ago after a rather exhausting mission. They bought you dinner, and kissed you softly on the cheek before bidding you farewell. As time went by they'd be the one to hold your hand through the countless stormy nights. It never occurred to you that they'd become a nightmare too, the kinda person who would happily humiliate you in front of your peers.

You trusted them; poor, silly girl that you were.

Everyone around you warned you not to date the person in charge of spinning stories. Their literal job came with the responsibility to twist the truth until it looked presentable to people.

It really shouldn't be a shock to you that they'd embarrass you like this, taking your newfound insecurities and broadcasting them even after they'd assured you that you were still beautiful.

As if your former colleagues needed to know about what you looked like beneath your bra.

You were a mess of emotions, but mortified took the prime spot as you envisioned the word spreading like wildfire. Shield was one thing, but the idea that the people you now called family would get an insight into the situation.

Well, that was enough to lead you right here.

To a place that shielded you from the curious looks, and the invasive whispers. It was your only escape, where you thought you'd have at least some time to be alone in your shame, before your saviors would come along. But in your rush to escape you'd forgotten the couple was just as present on the prior mission.

"Detka please," Natasha was desperate in her pleas, she could see you already withdrawing, and it terrified her. It'd been years since she last saw you like this. At the time they were hesitant as well, but after a few hours with you it was clear you were nothing short of docile.

They had placed you into a containment cell after retrieving you from a Hydra facility. You were so incredibly broken, and too easily pliant to be seen as a threat. You were soft spoken, and cooperative, yet you clearly held mistrust.

From the very first day Natasha knew you'd become someone she cared about. With her and Wanda being in charge of training you it wasn't much of a shock that you let them in. They accepted you just the same, but with the distance starting at shield created they never got to have you the way they wanted. Then as you were transitioning to the Avengers you met Robin, and it nearly sent Wanda off the rails.

The brunette knew they were trouble, and she didn't even need her powers to tell her that. But the collective warnings fell on deaf ears as you chose to pursue the apparent dead end.

Natasha knew too, but she held her resentment closer to her heart, and remained the only one capable of keeping Wanda focused on the fact that you weren't theirs to claim. You were not something to be owned, but earned. So, they settled on being a solid base for you, and if they play their cards right now, once you've healed they'll finally get to call you theirs outwardly.

As the redhead caught your shifting gaze she could see your resolve softening, so she settled on the ground before you. There was a good five inches between you though, giving you any space you could want. "Can I hold you detka?"

It was tense, staring into her loving gaze as you weighed out the options. You could either stay where you are, cold and broken, or you could crawl into her awaiting lap, where you knew intimately that it brought warmth, and peace.

After a few minutes of chaotic deliberation you scrambled into her lap. Her arms wrapped around you just as fast, and you cried against her chest as her unyielding love overwhelmed your persistently aching heart. "It's okay sweet girl, I don't know what they did, but I promise you didn't deserve it. They're a dumbass..."

You froze in her embrace, your mind and heart were now at war with one another as you chose to stutter in their defense, "N-no, Natty, don't be mad at them. They were just being —."

"Don't do that," Natasha shook her head, her own lip began to tremble as she really looked into your eyes to see your mind in scattered pieces that required mending. "They don't deserve your forgiveness, don't defend them."

"Th-they didn't mean it, they couldn't have.."

It broke the redhead to see you trying to give Robin the benefit of the doubt, all the while you are trembling in her arms as you tried to process your overwhelming feelings of hurt. Which is why she decided it was best to offer you comfort while being brutally honest.

"Sometimes people are just terrible Y/N, there's no rhyme or reason, and there's no changing that fact no matter how hard we want to. It's easier to pretend they had a valid reason for being so cruel, to bury that intimidating surge of anger and fill the new void left behind with a faux sense of personal accountability."

Natasha's callous thumb softly ran over the wet skin of your cheek, she smiled warmly at you as she let the abrupt silence linger for a moment. Offering you as much comfort as she could while she carefully gathered her thoughts.

"Because facing the truth that they're a vile person that we let in to hurt us is harder than rightfully condemning their behavior." Natasha saw you coming to terms with her words, but it only proved more devastating as more tears streamed down your temples and soaked into the cotton of her hoodie. "So please don't do it, because when you do, you're only masking the hurt instead of feeling it. You have to face the truth detka, feel the betrayal and the hurt long enough to free you from it and to let you heal."

"W-why does this always happen to me Natty?" Natasha firmly pressed her lips to your hairline and took in a shaky breath through her nose as she willed the tears in her eyes not to slip. "I don't know Y/N/N, but you deserve better."

Natasha's voice wavered, she truly didn't get it, because if given the opportunity to have you at their side, she knew that Wanda and her would love you right. You'd never have to question their intentions, or the strength of their love for you because it was true. It would be perfect...

"It hurts so much," your voice was barely above a whisper, but your hands were strong as they clung to her in sheer desperation. "Make it stop Natty, please, I-I can't." You began to shiver, and in an instant her hoodie was slid over your head and within seconds your body calmed.

"Yes you can detka," Natasha shushed you, with a warm smile reserved for you once your bleary eyes had found hers again. "You're strong enough to face it detka, and we're right here. Wanda and I got you now, you're safe."

"I'm safe," you repeated a bit unsure, but as her arms tightened around you it was made clear. You timidly smiled up at Natasha, and she returned it with ease. She saw your exhaustion clear as day with her eyes locked on yours, so she shifted her body, then kept her hold on you firm as she took you both to the grey recliner. She put a playlist Wanda made for you on shuffle, then kissed your cheek. "Now rest."

Natasha enjoyed cradling you, even if her arm had long since gone numb holding up the deadweight of your upper body. With you nuzzled into the cloth of her shirt she could feel your warm breath against her skin exposed by the v-neck of her blouse. Her heart practically leapt out of her chest, she missed having you close ever since you entered your relationship.

They'd nearly had you, but you slipped away, and that had the gravest of consequences...

"How is she?" Natasha looked up to see her girlfriend hovering by the doorway, almost afraid to enter the space you both currently occupied. "Okay for now, did you figure out what that wretched fool did to her?" Wanda shook her head as she approached, her hand gently cupped your face, and she smiled as you leaned into her touch. "I didn't really ask..."

Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion as she peered up at Wanda for clarity, but then she silently understood the witches loving gaze.

It was your story alone to tell.

Wanda handled your ex, and the agent with the easiness of a call to Fury. The matriarch of Shield held no hesitation after he caught wind of what was said. He nipped the spread of the scenario in the butt with a hardened glare. It wasn't enough for Wanda though, so with a flick of her wrist she ensured that the last hour of all of their lives was a muddled memory.

Whatever was said, was forgotten by all except for the guilty parties who were thrown out on their asses. Wanda glared at Robin as they rushed out of HQ, sending a shiver down their spine that let them know to never return.

Natasha was satisfied with the information, but she also knew you'd likely be devastated. To find that you were abandoned again is going to hold you prisoner to thoughts of inadequacy.

All the couple can do is be there for you, and hope that with time you'll be made anew.

"What's in the bags?" Natasha moved the conversation on, and Wanda held the bag out to give sight to the contents. "I made Y/N/N her favorite meal, and I ran to our old Shield rooms to collect some pajama's for all of us."

"We're sleeping here tonight?" Natasha asked with a pout, her back instantly feeling that familiar ache that the air mattress brings.

"Suck it up kotenok," Wanda snorted, "Y/N needs to not be bothered by the guys tonight."

With their chatter above you it wasn't shocking for Wanda to be the first to witness your eyes fluttering open. You looked rather adorable as you tried to piece together how you ended up in her lovers arms, and then she saw clarity wash over you. For a moment you frowned, then you yawned and reached out for her.

Wanda set the bags down on the coffee table with a soft chuckle then she pulled you up and into her warm embrace all as she smiled down at a pouting Nat in a gloating manner. "How does a treehouse sleepover sound sweetie?"

"You guys don't have to do that, I'm okay now," you mumbled into her shirt, she hardly caught your words, but she merely tightened her arms around your waist and swayed your bodies. "Detka, you don't have to pretend with us, you don't need to go through this all alone. So, I am going to get some bowls, and you'll go pick a movie while Natty here sets up the projector."

You knew by her tone that there was no room for debate, so you did as you were told. In the end she was right, you were far from fine, but as you laid between their bodies as the film continued to roll, you knew as long as they were around that the healing was possible.

——

In a years time, you knew with certainty that was true. Wanda and Natasha, your now lovers of three months, had saved you from ruin.

You were a shell of yourself at first, hardly speaking to anyone upon reaching back to the compound, and reverting back to your old ways of solitude in a blink. Always polite, but never forthcoming with your presence or words.

Robin leaving over something so personal to you broke you into shambles. It was never a fair trade, but your mind couldn't help but to regret ever giving into the advice given to you.

When you first joined the Avengers you were given an off planet mission. Thor was not one to go on missions Earth-side often, unless it was the end of times level, but Fury did offer him agents when necessary. Your powers were crucial to Thor, so you found yourself on a planet where fire was the peoples kryptonite.

With one flash of a flame you were able to help him without much of a fight. Their leader knew Thor wouldn't hesitate to let you bring ruin, so they gave into the God who towered over them.

He'd taken you back to Earth, and for your "valiant effort" he took you to a diner, where even though you'd done hardly anything, you were rubbing at your lower back and wincing.

"Lady Y/N, why don't you get your boobs cut into smaller ones?" He'd said, you immediately went to cast an offended glare at the pig of a man, but then you saw into his eyes, and they held an innocence that told you he was only offering a genuine suggestion. "My ex, Jane, has a friend—Darcy. She used to talk our ear off about how reducing hers was the best choice she'd ever made. Her back problems vanished, and her clothes fit more smoothly."

His suggestion seemed fruitless at first, but after a mission a couple weeks later, where you felt the pain increased by your exertions you took it seriously and scheduled a consultation.

Robin said no, but it was never direct. They just teased you, and therefore you believed it to be a tasteless joke. They never said anything to you after, but you could see the way they no longer lit up at the sight of your bareness. It didn't change your sex life though, at least not in the rate at which it happened. Only the way.

Still, you remained naive up until the moment their truth was spewed out like venom. Sinking into you, and holding you captive in your mind.

They had no right to make you feel insecure, it was your choice, and it was meant to be joyous. You made it with your own body in mind, to better your life, and you were ecstatic. It was one of the first ones you'd ever been able to make of your own volition and they tainted it.

For the first month you refused to leave your room unless it was to go on a mission, or to sneak off to the treehouse. Everyone gave you the space, even when the couple didn't want to.

Wanda kept you fed with meals outside your door, and Natasha kept you safe by going on the missions you were still expected to go on. They hovered, but never in a way that was suffocating, only in a way that said they were there and cared. Which eventually paid off because when you did finally show up to movie night you were quick to settle down with them.

It was your first big step towards healing.

Months flew by, and with time you found the ache in your chest was never for Robin, but instead for companionship in general. You wanted a love like Wanda and Natasha's, and after a drunk kiss shared between the three of you it was made clear you just wanted them.

It was a no brainer really, when you woke up with your head on straight you felt the same. They'd breathed out a sigh of relief when you simply smiled at them and snuggled even further into the warmth of their bodies instead of running out of their room screaming.

That night they took you on a date, and swept you off your feet in the most romantic of ways. Literally, Natasha scooped you up, and kissed you beneath the light of the moon, and Wanda danced with you in a field as the stars twinkled.

You felt free; they were the breath of clarity you'd always been searching for, you'd just only ever delved into a sea full of wrong people.

Being with them made you realize that you were never the problem. They loved you so incredibly well, reminded you how beautiful you were everyday, even when you looked like a troll as your arose from your slumber or a hot mess after a grueling mission. It was never a lie, your beauty was more than skin deep.

Still, even with their reassurances, you'd been terrified to give yourself over completely. You knew they'd never treat you like previous partners had, but still, in the back of your mind you were left with the fleeting insecurities.

Every time something would be close to initiated you'd find yourself blocked. Heavy petting and sloppy make outs would progress with ease, then a hand would skim over your heated skin beneath your blouse and you'd bolt up, and excuse yourself. They never questioned you, they gave you your space, and made sure the vibe in the room was tranquil when you would come back in with a guilty expression.

Wanda would cradle your head to her chest, and Natasha would kiss your cheek as if they weren't hot and bothered only an hour prior.

They've been patient, which is only fair, but you also knew that they were sexually driven women. You've shared a wall with them for long enough to know that, but ever since you'd joined their arrangement they've been celibate.

Neither seemed impatient with your pace, they offered you abundant warmth, and stability. It was you that was growing frazzled with need, the pit in your stomach was taut, and after making out with Natasha, with your body pressed against a wall this morning you'd decided that there wasn't any need to wait.

That's why you're in their room, the one that had basically become yours, with only silk a robe layered around your bareness. Against the insecurities of their unknown reactions, you were ready to take a chance on them, and you had faith that they'd love you regardless of the perceivable imperfections. Plus, the source of your greatest insecurities lessened with time.

The once dark, and angry surgical scars had actually faded some, they were still prominent, but nowhere near as noticeable as they were a year prior when you were shamed. On top of that, you'd decided to take a cosmetic approach to distract yourself, and others from the marks.

You took a steadying breath, and shook off the building anxieties. You chose to focus on the potential for a night of bliss. Natasha and Wanda were downstairs finishing mission reports, completely unaware that they were about to stumble upon you. That element of surprise actually made you even more aroused.

It was embarrassing really, the way your slick dripped down your thighs, and cascaded over the slope of your knees as you kneeled on the bed in wait. You'd texted them a simple 'come to your room please,' and smiled when you heard the familiar steps of Nat's combat boots and Wanda's heels in only a minutes time.

"Detka?" Natasha called out, but it was Wanda who first walked into the room, and who felt the colliding of her lovers body as she stilled at the sight of you on their bed. The energy was shifted from inquisitive to sinfully so as the women let their eyes trail over your form.

"What is this?" Wanda's accent was thick, her flushed cheeks and darkened eyes giving way to the carnal second nature of your loving witch. Natasha pushed Wanda forward, hand reaching behind her to shut and lock the door with ease as she spoke huskily, "Yeah, we're not complaining love, but we're seeking clarity."

Without a word you reached out your hands and each of them took one into their own. Natasha linked her fingers with yours, and Wanda held eye contact with you as she brought yours to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

"I'm ready," you spoke with absolute certainty, and allowed them to pull you from the bed. Wanda spun you so that you were facing her, and offered you a gentle, yet questioning smile. Natasha moved her hands to your hips so she could pull your body flush to hers, her lips pressed beneath your ear, hot breath tickled your skin as she whispered: "Are you sure?"

"There's no rush," Wanda added, and you leaned forward to kiss her, it was soft, and she melted into the affection. Then you boldly laid her hand onto the tie of your robe. "I think we have all waited long enough, so take it off."

Both of them pulled away from you, and though you enjoyed the redheads warmth from behind, you found her eagerness to see you in all your naked glory a bit more comforting. Wanda swirled her hand in the air, causing the knot to untwist, and the robe to fall. "Woah."

You chuckled nervously, "Woah? Is that good?"

Wanda smiled as she bit her lip, and beckoned you closer with the crook of her finger, you quickly obliged, settling into her open arms. A sigh left your lips as Natasha once again stood behind you, and pressed you into the witch.

Neither of them answered you with words, but instead you found yourself with your head thrown back as they lavished your body with the most sinful of attention. Nimble hands groped you all over, and brought you to moan as their lips worked you over in tandem.

Natasha and Wanda were honestly floored by the initial sight of you. Their eyes had nearly bulged out of their heads when seeing the way your thighs had glistened for them—they knew without need for vocal confirmation that they get you all worked up. They see the way your thighs harshly clench, and in this moment they could smell you from a few feet away and they were salivating at the idea of being able to finally taste you after all these years in wait.

Then their eyes slowly rose higher, admiring every perfect curve of your body that they'd only had the luxury of seeing beneath clothes. Eventually seas of green reached the holy grail as they froze on your chest, your nipples were pert, and breasts were perfectly rounded.

Sparks of jealousy ignited in their hearts at the realization that someone else was near your body within the last year upon gazing at your fresh tattoo. Just between your breasts sat a gorgeous piece of artwork, it was an intricate array of lines that all came together to create the image of a sturdy castle. It took over the entirety of your upper abdomen, and the tip of the extravagant looking building laid within the valley of your breasts. It was moving.

You'd gotten it to represent the overall concept of conquering fears, to symbolize that no one else could dictate the making of your intricate story, it was yours to write; you were queen.

They also noticed your scars, but it wasn't even a thing they focused in on, neither woman cared about something so inconsequential.

Why would they when they had your body at their disposal to cherish until the sun set?

You were perfect, and they were desperate to have and show you that, to wipe away the insecurities they know you've felt for months.

After a particularly loud moan that Natasha pulled by groping your ass, Wanda had bit down into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Her fingers drummed against your sides as she steadied her skipping heart, then she pulled her face from the side of your neck as she had caught a whiff of your increased arousal. The need to be between your thighs was no longer something she could ignore, and with how you squirmed about in their hold she knew that the overall need was reciprocated.

"You're fucking breathtaking Y/N," she held onto your hips with a tight grip as she felt her body dizzying from her need for more of you. "I'm so—, please detka, tell me this is all okay, let me know when I can drop to my knees and worship you like the queen that you are."

You gulped when looking into her eyes to find only remnants of green remained. The lust was all consuming for the lot of you, you were all but certain Natasha's eyes were just as wild.

"Come on sweet girl," Natasha rasped against the shell of your ear as her hands slid around to grope your breasts from behind, you gasped and nearly broke down as her thumbs rolled over your nipples. It'd been so long since you felt the hands of another on your body, but more specifically your chest and you were overwhelmed with settling grief and pleasure.

"Let us take care of you like you deserve," she continued with an urgency in her tone that sounded close to a whine, it was as if she was in pain being made to wait, "Fuck, you're just so perfect Y/N, sat here patiently waiting for us."

Wanda was already on her knees when your eyes had finally fluttered back open, you locked gazes with her, and offered her a reassuring smile that made her heart flutter wildly, and once your head nodded she surged forward.

Normally they'd ask you to speak, but there was no doubt with the urgency of your nod.

Natasha held your body firmly in place by your hips as the other woman flicked her tongue through your folds. It excited her to no end when you tried to squirm away, but found yourself incapable of doing so with her bruising hold. You were gripping onto her neck with your arm thrown back for stability while your other hand fell and twisted into fiery locks of auburn so that you could keep them close.

Wanda hummed against your clit just as one of Natasha's hands slipped downwards from your hip, and just as her fingers slid inside of your cunt she was prepared with her plump lips on yours to catch your throat scratching moans. With only a few strokes and a harsh suckling of your swollen bundle of nerves you fell apart.

The redheads arm wrapped around your waist as your body tried to slump forward, because it'd been so long since you felt this intense of a release, and Wanda didn't even stop to breathe. It was no wonder your knees buckled as her tongue continued to lap at your center, and her fingers harshly dug into your quivering thighs.

Natasha aided her in her attempt to pull more from you before ever making it to the bed as her fingers buried themselves back inside of you and moved with a vigorous effort to do so. It was a pleasure you'd never felt before, her long fingers reached into your greatest depths, making your stomach burn as you were built back up, and tears collected in the divots of your neck as you cried from the pleasure.

"I-I'm gonna cum," you got out before an ear piercing moan left your throat, "O-oh shit!" You could feel the coil tethering with each harsh thrust, and it finally unraveled as the redhead curled her fingers and pressed them into your g-spot. "I, oh fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Your slick came gushing out, and soaking Wanda's face while your walls pulled your other lovers fingers in even deeper and held onto them for dear life as they continued to spasm uncontrollably from the pleasure. It took a few minutes for your cunt to relinquish its hold, and as soon as she slid her fingers from you Wanda was there to replace them.

"What a good girl," Natasha purred against the skin of your neck. "I bet you taste so sweet, hm. I mean look at Wanda, she's already addicted and you're just letting her devour your pussy."

Wanda grinned against your thigh after she finally pulled away from your sensitive walls, and if the look she sent her lover wasn't enough the confirmation she got when she sucked your slick from her fingers was enough to prove it.

"A real fucking delicacy she is," Wanda mused, accent thick with her Sokovian roots as she felt and stored the entirety of her lust in her chest. "Those mission reports will be defaulting."

Natasha chuckled, "Oh, yes they will..."

Wanda stood to her feet, and kissed Natasha over your shoulder while you came back down. Their tongues danced harmoniously, and you felt the warmth blossom in your core again at the sounds of their altered salivas swapping.

Fortunately for you they handled your tired body once they were satisfied with parting. Their main focus was on taking care of you, and making love to you until you couldn't take it anymore, they wanted to hear you plead with them to stop, then bring you over the edge a final time just to see you writhe all over again.

When your mind caught up to your body you could hear the choked up moans that left you as Wanda slid your cunt against Natasha's bare thigh. Her nipples brushed against your back and you internally screamed at the feel of them bare against you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you willed them open so you could see them, even if you were restricted in many ways.

The swell of Natasha's breasts was enough to make your body tingle with excitement and for your thighs to try to clamp shut, but the tight grip of Wanda's hands, and obstacle of Nat's leg kept you spread wide open, and in bliss.

The redhead smirked, "Like what you see?" You smiled bashfully, and stuttered out a quiet yes that made the women share a humored glance. "Feel free to suck on them then detka." The permission granted and way that she hotly winked at you had your walls clenching around nothing, and at the feel of your cunt pulsing she knowingly flexed her thigh, and as Wanda harshly pressed you into the muscle you fell into Natasha's shoulder with rushed pants to indicate what the slick on her thigh already did.

You came, again, and fuck were you feeling it.

Never in your life had a partner made you cum more than twice, you'd believed it to be an impossibility at this point, so the fact that they'd even managed a third time was actually insane to you. Your teeth had sunk into the skin of the redheads supple breast, and latched on tight, for a brief bout of comfort it seemed as your lower half went momentarily numb. It was a foreign sensation, the way your vision had spotted over, and your muscles ached.

Your body was obviously spent, you were sure to fall over soon, but they weren't even done with you. Something you realized after the witch lifted you up, then spun you around. They left you over Natasha's lap, with you on your knees, keeping your legs spread wide over Natasha's. The sight of a strap made your eyes widen just as much, and Wanda smiled wide.

"You like it detka?" You visibly gulped, but nonetheless nodded along rather dumbly. "It's enchanted, so when I fuck it into your pretty little cunt, Natty will feel it too, and I will get to feel as you clench around me with every inch I slip inside you. Oh my, I can't fucking wait..."

Wanda's words were a warning you didn't read, so when the tip pressed inside you seconds later you weren't prepared, but your pussy was. It swallowed the thick silicone up, and left you with your mouth agape as it stretched you out.

Natasha panted wildly against your neck as she felt the phantom strokes of the enchanted strap as it slid in and out of your slicked up walls. That alone nearly sent you spiraling over into another climax, but you managed to keep it at bay for a bit longer to ensure both woman got to fall over with you. "I'm so close, please..."

"Just a few more minutes detka," Wanda grunted as her hips continued their relentless pace in the race to bring you all over the edge. "I'm close too, I want to cum with you love."

Natasha squeaked, "Me too," as her entire body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending she had was on high alert as she felt every single pleasurable pressure that you did with Wanda rutting into you like a woman gone mad. The pleasure melded into pain from time to time for you, but it faded out fast enough to derive an even deeper, appreciative overall pleasure.

It was driving her wild, finally having you in the way they'd always dreamed of. Spread out, and dumbed down. It had her teetering, and she knew with absolute certainty she'd fall soon, especially when you or Natasha would moan right in tandem with her soft grunts. 

As the witches pace steadily increased it became near impossible for any of you to bare. With every thrust into your g-spot you'd flutter around the silicone, which would cause a firm sensation to be felt against Wanda's very own.

Natasha's upper body gave out, causing her to fall back into a low pile of pillows, and with her your body followed. Wanda didn't take this new vantage point for granted either, her eyes first focused on the way your tits bounced with every single thrust, and then they moved on to gawking at your glistening, puffy cunt that took her thick, veiny strap without any resistance.

"Fuck, look at this Nat," she groaned, then in an instance both yours and Natasha's minds were overtaken by the live image of your cunt being rutted into without any reprieve in sight. Natasha cried out against your cheek, her thighs trembled beneath your ass, and even in your blissed out state you managed to smile.

Wanda found your triumphant smile adorable, you knew just what you were doing to them, it was a cocky, yet sweet little expression. You soon whimpered as she lifted your thighs up into Natasha's hands so that she could fuck into you even deeper. Her plans to wipe the smile off your face a success as she worked to remind you that they were the ones in charge.

Her body lurched forward so that she could lavish your upper body with attention, her tongue swirled around your nipples, making you gasp out at the unexpected touch. Then she began to press shaky kisses all over the ridged skin around the curve of your breasts as she grew overwhelmed by the way that the harness pressed firmly into her clit with each thrust.

Wanda wanted to see you coming undone, so she stretched her torso and brought her face to hover over yours as she kept her hips pace up. While she stared into your eyes she noted the way your pupils contracted ever so slightly, there was a haze that heavily overlayed them, and she felt her chest swell with pride at the effect their ministrations were having on you.

Then she frowned as they soon shut. "Open your eyes pretty girl," she coaxed, her lips pressed to yours briefly, and she beamed when you listened to her gentle command. "Keep them open for us, we wanna see you let go."

Natasha softly cursed in Russian from beneath you, her hot air coasting over your skin, and you imagined Wanda was sharing in the sight.

"I need," you choked on your words as she applied a firm pressure to your engorged clit, the touch was too much and everything all at once. "Please, let me cum, I can't take it anymore... I need to..." You words cut off once again as she had slammed her lips to yours, and whispered, "Cum with us detka, let go..."

You came with a scream of their names in between slurred curse words, and Natasha followed suit within seconds, screaming in line with your own before she bit into your shoulder to suppress her insanely loud noises of bliss.

It was a glorious sight for the witch, Natasha's skin was flushed and her eyes were drooped, and when she focused back in on you she about died at the alluring sight that followed along with you cumming. Her hips came to an abrupt stop as she was blinded by her own orgasm, holding eye contact with you as you came down was rather dizzying. Like an intimate fireworks show on display for just her with the way the swirls of lust exploded within your irises. 

Wanda’s body collapsed atop yours, she softly kissed the skin of your neck, and smiled when your arms lazily wrapped around her body. The three of you remained like that for awhile, breathing out of sync on the come down, and exchanging the sweetest of touches up until Natasha ruined it with a gravely whine, “I can’t feel anymore, I’m paralyzed beneath you two.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, then you squealed as she did the same with your bodies. “Fine, but don’t complain about missing our warmth.”

“Ah yes, because that’s what I’m getting,” she teased further, “You’re just so warm Wands.”

“Careful now, or I’ll tell Fury to send you off.”

Natasha chuckled, then looked over to see your face was nuzzled into the witches chest, and the other was smiling like an idiot. Her heart was near to bursting at the seams with just how much love she harbored for the both of you.

“Share the detka,” Natasha whined, no longer content with being alone after sixty seconds. Wanda smirked, then taunted her, “I warned you, yet you still chose your silly freedom.”

“I didn’t want to lose my limbs!”

You giggled tiredly against Wanda’s bare chest, and she smiled widely at Natasha who was already wearing an adoring smile of her own.

“How are you feeling love?” Wanda whispered, and with the help of Nat she’d rolled you onto your back. For a moment you’d gathered the post sex confidence to speak, hut then piercing orbs of emerald stared down expectantly and the pure deepness of the green in them gave the allusion as if she was staring into your soul.

"I-I," you paused, taking in a massive inhale to steady your rapidly beating heart. The after effects of your multiple orgasms not helping your mind to process either. Natasha's cocky smirk hovering over your face wasn't helping, but Wanda's nails scratching over your side was. "What's on your mind there pretty girl?"

"Thank you."

Natasha frowned, and your brows turned down at the sight of her disappointed expression.

"Why are you thanking us?" Wanda asked the question on both of their minds. Suddenly you felt the weight of your former insecurities crashing back down on you, and for the first time since it happened you decided to be more open with them. "For being patient with me..."

"Oh sweetheart, that's not worthy of thanks," Wanda negated with a deep sigh. "You deserve nothing less than the bare minimum, and that is exactly what respecting your autonomy is."

You felt the warmth swarming around in your stomach, as if a case of butterflies had been released within you. The ability to be honest with them only furthered as you saw the loving look in their eyes that screamed of safety.

"And for," you paused momentarily, pouting your lips as you got your thoughts together. "For not making me feel bad for the ugly scars beneath my chest. Robin, they, um —..."

Neither women needed further explanation, it made both of them irate to think that the pain you felt last year, that nearly cost them you for good, was over something so grotesque.

"I'll kill them," Natasha growled, and you were not foolish enough to leave that unchecked. "Natty, I think that it's time we all move on. Robin is a thing of the past, and I'd like to keep them that way. I much prefer our future."

Our future rang out in all of your heads, and you smiled reassuringly up at them in truth.

Natasha settled on her side beside you, her arm crooked to hold her head up, and she reached out to grab your hand. She pulled it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertips before she was taking it lower. You quirked a brow, thinking this was a fast turn around into a round two, but then she settled your hand on her lower abdomen. You frowned at the feel of her mostly smooth skin being tarnished by the familiar ridges. Hers were a bit more faded, but the raise of the skin never planned to go away.

“We all have scars detka,” she spoke with a great sadness in her tone, but her smile reflected the hope that lived on inside her chest. “Some of ours we wear outside,” as she paused, Wanda turned your face to hers, and you held intimate eye contact as Nat finished, “Some of ours live in our souls, and for the three of us we’ve got a mix of both. They don’t define us detka, they’re just a piece of a story.”

“You’re beautiful now, just as you were then,” Wanda carried on the topic of discussion. She took a momentary reprieve so she could kiss your lips while her thumbs wiped away at the once budding tears that had began to fall. “We always saw you Y/N, when you were in that cell we just knew you were special, and every day since you’ve gotten out you’ve proven us right.”

“I love you guys so much,” you cried, and rolled into Natasha’s chest to hide your face. “We love you so much more Y/N,” Wanda challenged, and in a gentle sway she maneuvered herself behind you, and wrapped you up in her love. Natasha mirrored her exact sentiments with a contrast in approach as she pecked your tear stained cheeks, and ran a comforting hand up and down your side. “Now rest up angel..”

Wanda chuckled tiredly into her pillow then kissed your neck “We’re far from done detka…”

——

[rush-the-stars]

CIELO GOD GOD GOD GOD

happy new year vic <33333

gender neutral reader x war god morax/zhongli

cw: blood. biting? the reader is a captive of war. um maybe out of character morax....but im picturing him younger in his long life. a lil more hot blooded. you know.

***

the sun is a bloody dash in the sky. an open wound from the heavens that turns the world crimson and russet.

it's fitting, for a day like this, with so much fighting, so much bloodshed.

the blood of gods gleams gold. it covers you. you are stained in it and in those last, burning rays of the sun, you shine and shimmer.

some of it is your own. most of it is not.

you sit primly despite it, with your knees tucked beneath you and your back straight. you sit serenely with your head poised in a graceful upward tilt— a refusal to surrender the last thing you have now; your pride. your knowledge.

you know something he doesn’t.

and, at the end, you have the pride and knowledge that you almost bested morax the dragon. morax, the god currently winning the archon war. morax, who has finally captured you.

your hands are bound with stone he'd (painstakingly) created. you feel the heat of their power, humming, burning into your skin. it is an attempt at subduing your own divine abilities.

when he appears before you now, he is dressed in black armor. his hair is bound up in a high ponytail, which reveals the chiseled lines of his face. the dragon scales along his temples gleam like precious stones. dark horns curl atop his head proudly, the dragon of this land, with his eyes like the center of the molten earth.

"tell me where you've hidden it."

his demand is met with silence.

you hold his gaze.

more silence.

it stretches long and thick between you.

you let it grow.

he lets out a heavy sigh eventually. and then he moves closer, only to stand over you.

you fall into his great shadow.

"you've lost. you're lucky i didn't kill you." he says and his voice is surprisingly gentle, low and smoky, a rumbling that settles somewhere deep inside you. "and now you can help me win this war and end it."

you turn your face away from him and he is met with your profile. more silence.

"stubborn little god, aren't you?" he hums and it is just shy of wry.

you tilt your head up, gaze focused away from him still, on the camp ahead. his camp of allied gods and mortals and adepti. you focus on the world beyond, as if you might see the hills of heather further on, or the sea itself.

"you'll save lives if you tell me where it is."

you want to look at him and ask why he thinks you'd help him—why his mortals should mean anything to you? why should you want him to win and end the war? but you force yourself to continue to gaze away, to bite back any words threatening to break free from the cage of your mouth.

and then there is a touch at your jaw, careful, almost delicate, as his fingers curl themselves around your face.

he forces you to look towards him, eye level for a moment with muscled thighs beneath onyx armor. and then he pulls your gaze up to find his own, smoldering gold in the evening sun. like the blood you're covered in. like the blood he has washed from himself.

"since you don't feel like talking, then listen to me well."

his thumb caresses your jaw the way a lover might. a careful pass over your skin.

"we can do this peacefully or with great difficulty. i am prepared to offer you freedom if you agree to join me and help me end this war; which is far kinder than i've been to many other gods that have been in your position now. or i will banish you to the dark sea and find what i need on my own.”

“how magnanimous of you.” you finally sneer.

calmly, he says;

“i thought so, too.”

you lurch forward like you might try to strike him, but the binds around your wrists constrict sharply, burning into your skin.

you cry out.

he steadies you.

“easy,” he murmurs, crouching finally to be on your level, face to face. “it hurts, doesn’t it?”

you feel heat in your face; humiliation or frustration. deep, horrible anger. and pain. searing pain that slips up the sinews of muscle in your arms. it tangles in your shoulders, sends pulses of anguish over your back, all over.

you don’t answer.

“i made them especially for you.” he admits. “i made them months ago—long before i caught you.”

“what makes you think i’d help you?” you bite out.

“your desire to be free?” he asks, “the promise of my protection and aid?”

"i don't need your protection—"

"no?" he asks lightly, "you were bested. you are captured."

you jerk your head away from his touch. his hand falls away and he stands again. he gazes down at you.

you snarl, "you are the only one who has done that. before you, i had not been—"

"then consider it protection from me. if you work with me, i will not harm you."

you inhale sharply. your anger constricts around your rib cage like a massive snake. your body aches with it. how dare he—

you force back another rash attempt at striking him.

instead, you gaze beyond him again, as if you could see the future now alongside those heather hills or swirling sea. you wrestle your anger until it will allow you to speak clearly.

you lift your voice and the breeze carries it, laced with venom;

"when i am archon, you'll beg to serve me loyally.

but i will curse you to live beneath the earth and you'll wander in an endless, dark maze. every time you believe you near what you search for, it will change before your eyes, and again you will wander. you'll search for eternity, never to find it.

once in a millennia, i will visit you, and i'll tell you this maze is your protection from me."

you turn to find his eyes. a fissure of heat—the air is charged and sharp with the tang of divinity. a bristling. you think his eyes darken, pupils narrowing to the slits of a reptile.

when he calls out, voice rising to that of a general, you catch the flash of sharpened teeth, "prepare the prisoner for transportation."

immediately, soldiers surge upon you.

"are we preparing them for the dark sea?" one asks.

morax stares hard at you.

"no," he says and when they pull you to your feet, you think about running. you think about shoving them off of you. you wonder how far you'd get or if stone binds would seize and paralyze you.

you wonder how well he had to know you to create them.

"where to then?" another soldier asks.

"to my quarters at the other camp. i will join you." he says.

momentarily, you are stunned.

"sir, are you sure—"

"make haste." he says simply, and then he steps to you, towers over you, even at your full height while standing now. and when he speaks again, it is softly and could be his own curse to you;

"the god isn't to leave my sights. i'll see to all of their needs from now on."

"i'll make your life hell." you promise.

his smile is almost amused, but his eyes are smoldering embers.

he lifts his hand to brush a stray piece of hair from your face. his voice is even;

"just as you'll be archon?"

this time, when you lash out, you turn and sink your teeth into his hand. you bite to break skin. his blood floods your mouth.

(you have already gotten a taste, now you want it all—)

he wrenches his hand away, examining it, lifting it to his face to gain a closer look. it burns gold with his blood which slides down his wrist, over the slope of his forearm. he flexes his hand, the muscles jumping, strong and proud. your ring of teeth marks is like a halo along the meat of his hand.

"when i make you a muzzle, should i call it protection for me or for you?"

"i hope my bite scars you." you hiss.

he lifts his hand higher to the scarlet sun, bathes it in light. you catch a flash of fang from the corner of his wry smile.

"i hope it does, too."

[softagenda]

birds of a feather (ais)

ais x reader(f)

baking au / short fic

series: birds of a feather ; aperitif

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

“Barkeep said you’d be back here,” Ais’s voice echoes through the empty kitchen, sounding bemused. “Gotta admit this wasn’t what I expected.”

You glance over your shoulder, snort, and continue to knead the large, lumpy mass of dough on the counter. “Thought I’d be butchering the cow for them?”

“Cleaning the bones for a necklace, bottling marrow for potions,” he adds, his footsteps drawing closer until he appears at the edge of her counter. “Scrying prey with skin or eyeballs. The usual.” He leans over and braces his elbows on the stone, chin notched in his palm.

“Ha ha.”

“Just thought you’d be doing something a little more badass.”

The dough softens and pulls beneath your hands, wisps of flour puffing into the air with each roll. For a long time, you’d been afraid to touch not just anyone but any thing . When you were young, your teacher had eventually convinced you to work on more crafts and skills, to grow more comfortable with your bare hands - and despite all they’d put you through, those memories still held bittersweet solace even now. “There’s still time to add more ingredients. A cup of chopped, eldritch sea demon should add some spice.”

“I was just about to ask if that was a meat cleaver in your pocket, or if you’re just happy to see me.”

You roll your eyes and pause to spread the dough between your fingers, before balling it up and dropping it in a pot to mature in the shade for a while. “Guess Leander’s getting most of my loaf tonight. I know he’ll appreciate it.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Most? Who else?”

“Vere will probably sneer, express his utmost disdain for such peasant fair, and then eat a fourth of it. He’s a slut for a honey glaze.” You sidle closer and prop your hip on the edge, looking him over. It’s a little unusual to see him out and about during the day. His hair windswept, the folds of his kimono draping around his belt and down his left arm, Ais looks as though he just rolled out of bed.

“Mhin seems like they’d have a sweet tooth too. Kuras… hmm.” You shrug and flick the tail of your hair over your shoulder. “Hard to know what the good doctor likes. Have you ever seen him eat?”

“No, despite Leander’s best attempts.” Red eyes trail lazily over the quiet kitchen: stacks of copper pots, a shelf full of knives and spokes, the massive iron cauldron warming in the hearth, before stopping on you. “He likes you, though.”

“Think he’d break bread with me?” You ask with a laugh in your voice. 

Ais only hums, but the faint smile evolves into something with a little more teeth. 

“It’s a shame my bread’s not badass enough for the Seaspring’s master,” you muse, biting on your tongue to keep from grinning. “Guess I’ll go and have a cry about it.”

“Always wanted to make you cry, sparrow,” he says, rising from his slouch and stepping toward you. His broad shoulders cage you up against the counter, his body looming over you. He’s not hot like most men and monsters - Ais seemed to exude the same chill that drifted in mists from the Seaspring, smelling of brine and brimstone. “Didn’t think I’d manage it like this.”

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, hooking your finger into the lip of the leather belt. You’re exceptionally careful of what you touch and where, without your bandages to shield him. “How did you imagine it?”

Ais leans into your space, his heavy-lidded gaze settling on your mouth with smoldering heat, like embers roasting on a bed of coals. His finger drew a line across the counter before lifting, a peak of flour sitting there like a snow cap. “No clothes. Less flour.” He blows it off, smirking as the cloud drifts into your face. 

“The counter’s unexpected, but… not bad.” He wraps his knuckles against the top. “It’ll probably hold up.” 

Heat curls within you. “ Probably .”

Ais shrugs. “Probably.”

You take a long, steady breath, feeling your stomach brush against him. “Better chances than that pier, I suppose.”

Something swam through his red eyes, the glow brightening for a heartbeat. “Now that’s a thought, sparrow.”

“You haven’t had it before? I’m offended.”

“Figured you’d want a bed, at least.”

“I’m not picky.” 

Ais chuckles, the sound so low and pleased that it hooks into you with electric warmth. He leans his body forward until his weight presses against you, pins you to the cold stone at your back, and cranes his neck. He presses a grinning mouth against yours. 

“Birds of a feather, sparrow.”

_____________________

a/n: thank you for reading!

[memento-morianon]

Happy STS!! Can you share a line of mean dialogue? 👀 - @trixierosewrites

how about a whole scene excerpt? context: a very important orc has just died and the eldest son, who was married into another clan (and by rights should be deferring to his wife's authority now) is in a drunken rage because his younger sister's deaf middle child was picked to inherit the important spiritual/cultural/diplomatic role from the grandfather. it's a whole mess.

“Nothing but foolish choices!” he ranted, “our father went soft from old age, we all know it. It’s an insult to our whole clan! My own family’s birthright has been passed over, all for you and yours.” He waved a hand at Th’elir, scoffing at her. “Couldn’t even pick your eldest; had to pick the one that can’t hold a conversation without help!” “Ikar, if you say one more thing about my son-” Th’elir growled, snout raised in threat, fully baring her own tusks. Ikar huffed, spitting on the dirt floor. He turned and glared at K’arik, who had just emerged from the crowd with a cold look in his eyes. “I know you know how to sign.” K’arik remarked cooly, staring down his snout and gesturing with sharp motions. “If you want to insult me, do it directly.”

The whole hall fell into a quiet chill, despite the press of warm bodies and the hearth fire in the middle. Apart from whispers passing details to those who couldn’t see, everyone was as silent and still as a hunter’s trap waiting to snap closed. Ikar sneered at K’arik, shaking his head.

“Fine,” he snapped in hasty sign, “you want the truth? This clan doesn’t need any leader who shares his bed with outsiders and the children of traitors.” He jerked his chin towards Morianon and set his glare on Evarin. She bared her teeth reactively, revealing the blunted tips of her filed-down tusks. Morianon landed beside her, all his feathers flat on his skin, holding his wings out defensively.

“He’s not worth it,” Morianon muttered under his breath, “this isn’t our fight.”By the way his hands tightened on her arms, Evarin knew he was speaking to himself as much as to her. She backed into the crowd slightly and soon heard her parents’ hushed voices as they hurried through the masses to reach her and stand by her side. K’arik remained stoic, eyes still cold as he stared down his uncle.

“I expected better from one of my own predecessors,” he replied, “did we not learn diplomacy from the same man? I looked up to you, once.”

“You’re as much of a fool as my father,” Ikar retorted, “abandoning our traditions and our clan. Our ancestors used to be lead by great warriors! Now we follow softhearted fools who rely on gentle words and magic rituals.” He snorted and stamped his foot in a challenge. His wife stepped back from him, snorting in disgust and drawing her hand up to the snout piercing that marked her as a [priestess]. Izune clicked his tongue dismissively.

“What under the Sun’s burning gaze does he think he’s on about?” he muttered, and Tawei shushed him. Evarin shook her head in agreement, feeling the tension in the room rise to a suffocating degree.

“Ikar!” Th’elir moved forward, answering his challenge with a stomp. “How long will you insult our family and our clan? You’re the only fool I see here.” She lowered her head, tusks forward. K’arik’s tusks were curled like his grandfather’s, tips facing his own cheeks. But Th’eilr’s tusks jutted forward like a pair of curved knives, poised for battle.

“Don’t pretend you’re better than me, little sister,” Ikar growled, “you’ve stolen what should have been mine. You’re not fit to lead, and your son will destroy everything our ancestors valued! He’s weak! You’re weak! I’m the one who should be leading this clan!” He abandoned the sign language to shout his last words, but if he had anything more to say, Th’elir slammed it out of his throat in a split second. The crowd came to life with shrieks of fear and shock, K’arik lost his cool demeanor and rushed forward with a gasping cry. Th’elir’s mouth was around her brother’s neck, her hands on his arms, and her momentum shoved him back against the nearest support pillar. He coughed, blinking in delayed surprise. K’arik, his father, and his older brother all hurried to Th’elir’s side, but she stood back on her own, blood dripping from her tusks. Ikar grabbed his throat and stumbled, leaning against the pillar. There was fear in his hazy eyes, and his breath sounded ragged.

“By the Mountain’s great glacial tits!” Izune exclaimed, clutching at his own throat to grab the pendant he wore. “What— !?”

“Watch your tongue,” Tawei hissed, her hands tight on her husband and daughter’s shoulders. Izune gestured wildly at the scene in front of them but lowered his voice.

“Watch my tongue? I almost just watched a murder!”

“Hush!” Tawei hardly seemed to be paying attention to him anyway, her eyes wide and her whole body tense as she stared at Ikar. He stood up shakily, lifting his hand to his eyes and staring in disbelief at the blood staining his palm. It trickled from the puncture wounds Th’elir had inflicted, coloring the collar of his fine shirt.

“Ikar,” Th’elir snapped, lifting her head, “you have insulted this clan again and again. You insult me, my family, and our father. As the clan matriarch, I banish you from this land. If you ever dare show your face to us again, it had better be kissing the dirt to apologize for everything you have done and said.” She huffed, still breathing heavy from her sudden burst of action. No one else spoke a word.

“Th’elir,” Ikar coughed, glaring back. She snorted at him, stomping her foot in warning.

“You are no longer my brother,” she spat, “get out of my home now.”

(@creators-club tag for sts)

[opticfile]

hello to my new bsf :D

what if, hypothetically, i asked for big brother! gilbert x gn! reader... in any style really but maybe hurt/comfort specifically... something fluffy and pure tbh, whatever you're feeling. thank youuuuu <333

✧ I LOVE IT i went a little more of a uh revenge route so i hope you dont mind!! also any emil slander is purely only for plot i love that boy

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // brief emil x reader for plot, rejection, comfort from gilbert in his own weird ass way, vandalism :3, short itty bitty lil drabble

“So,” You rest your chin in your palm as you lay on your side, eyeing up the boy in front of you. “What’cha gonna do on Saturday? I was thinking-”

“I’m going to the dance.” Emil responded, boredly, the light of his phone illuminating his face.

“Wait, huh?” You sat up a bit, “Emil Steilsson going to a school dance? You never go to those.”

“Alice asked me to go with her.”

“...You’re going to the dance with a date?” You scrunched your nose at the thought, “And with Alice? Doesn’t she get a new guy every few months-”

Emil looked at you awkwardly, “Look, if you have an issue with Alice, that’s on you.”

You frowned at the boy, sitting up in your bed and suddenly feeling a little more conscious about how you look, “Um, I don’t, it’s just…”

Emil looked at you expectantly, his eyes dull and mouth pulled into a line before your room’s door swung open to reveal your brother’s friend.

“Emil,” Matthias grinned, “We gotta head out, Lukas says its past your bedtime, kid.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Emil grumbled, “He acts like I’m 12.”

Emil stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, walking out of your room without a goodbye. You assume the dejection in your heart was also visible on your face because after Matthias slapped the back of Emil’s head, he glanced over with a concernedlook.

“You okay?” 

“Yup, just tired.” You nodded.

“Alright, cya.”

Matthias shut the door and you heard his voice blend in with your brothers’ and with Emil’s. Emil’s, it was a hard pill to swallow that he was going on a date with some girl, even if your pining was kept behind closed doors and he probably only hung out with you because you were his brother’s friend’s little sibling and the older boys pushed him away from their activities. You were a little angry, actually, and a lot sad. Maybe it's better to get the rejection out of the way now instead of when it’s someone you're really in love with, right?

But… it still hurt.

And your nose still tickled with the urge to cry as you stood from your bed and took off your sweatshirt, which, actually, was just Emil’s old sweatshirt. You wanted to burn it but you also knew that was extreme. You wanted to laugh and cry and pull out your hair and commit violence, but mostly you just wanted this wave of emotions to be over. 

A knock—one, two, three—rang out through your room.

You threw Emil’s sweater to your floor to be forgotten and cracked open the door, shoving your knee and head into the crack and scowling at the annoying albino in front of you.

“What do you want, Gil.”

“What happened to hello?” Gilbert snickered, “How are you?”

“You don’t get that.” You sneered, moving to close your door quickly before he shoved his foot in the crack, and when he did, you shut it harder.

“Hey, fucking chill,” Gilbert grimaced, “You’re so violent, what happened to the baby of the family?”

“Shut up, dude.” You rolled your eyes, attempting to push his foot out of the doorway, but alas, it was too late. He had his arm in the doorway and soon his entire body emerged through.

“So cruel.” Gilbert frowned, ruffling your hair as he looked around, “You should clean.”

“Don’t remind me, dickwad.” You took a jab at his ribcage.

“Jesus, this is even worse teenage angst than usual.” Gilbert rubbed his side, “Why is your favorite sweatshirt on the floor.”

“It’s not mine and it's not my favorite,” You crossed your arms, plopping down on the beanbag Emil resided on just ten minutes earlier.

“I know it’s Emil’s, but like, you wear it everywhere.” He kicked it under your bed and sat himself upon it.

For a few minutes, silence enveloped you both as you stared at your floor and Gilbert fiddled with some knick-knack he got off your side table.

“So what’s wrong?”

“What?” You glanced up to meet Gilbert, “Why would something be wrong.”

“You’re extra angsty and angry tonight.”

“Maybe it’s because someone barged into my room-”

“And Matthias said you looked sad when he grabbed Emil.” 

You knew your brother. You knew what he was like when he was happy, when he was joking around or making fun of you, and when he was being serious and genuine. And now? You can't find an ounce of joking in his tone as he stares you down.

“I know you better than you think, kid.” Gilbert said, “I was around when you were little, too, and you acted just like this when something upset you. You’d throw your socks at me-”

A worn sock hit his face.

“...I see that hasn’t changed.” Gilbert snorted, “So talk to me, what’s wrong? Who do I need to punch?”

“...” You clenched your jaw, “Okay, but everything we discuss stays in this room and you never tell Matthias or any of your friends.”

“Deal.”

“So…” You bounced your knee, “Emil-”

“Knew it, I’m gonna beat his ass.” Gilbert stood from your bed with clear intent and you had to dive out of your seat to grab him because he was definitely going to follow through here.

“Hold on! No killing!” You pulled at him and he let you, falling back into the bed.

“What did that brat do?” Gilbert grumbled, arms crossed.

“Um… it’s not like he did anything to me or anything…” You frowned, “Actually, he didn’t really do anything wrong so it’s not a big deal-”

“Y/n,” Gilbert cut you off, “It doesn’t matter what he did, you are hurt. I cannot allow that.”

You pulled your legs up on the beanbag and took a deep, mildly shaky breath as emotions began flowing. 

“I, um, I liked him and… uh… he’s going to the dance with someone else.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gilbert began.

‘It’s stupid, I know-’

“What a little prick.” He grumbled, “He’s always a dick to you, you deserve better.”

You frowned, “Don’t be mean to him, Gil-”

“I don’t care if you like him, it’s true, he barely acknowledges you.”

“Gil, stop it.”

“The only reason he even hangs out with you is because we won’t let him do shit with us-”

“I get it, okay.” You threw another sock at him, “I know I never had a chance but you don’t have to be a jerk about it, just go away, Gil…”

Gilbert stopped his rant as you sunk into your beanbag, turning your eyes away from him as they watered and breathing in that stuttery way you breathe when you cry. His hands dropped to his lap as he leaned forward.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that…”

“I don’t care.” You turned even farther away from him, refusing to meet his face.

“I just mean he’s not worth anything, he’s a loser and always looks bored. You can do better, he didn't even deserve you talking to him, and he’s a jerk if he doesn't realize that.”

You frowned as you stayed statue-still in your chair, processing his words as his sentence finished and he sat in silence for a moment.

“Y/n, talk to me.” Gilbert frowned, inching over on your bed to reach you, placing his hand on your shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”

“...”

“I have an idea.” He spoke, mischief in his voice.

“Throw it like you’re throwing a baseball into his eye!” Gilbert shouted from the tree above you.

You launched the toilet paper roll in your hands at him, a trail of it fluttering in its wake before he caught it.

“That would be a black eye.” He whistled, wrapping the toilet paper in the branches and further vandalizing his best buddy’s front yard.

“I want to crack his skull open with a baseball bat!” You seethed, picking up another toilet paper roll.

“Holy, relax, I don’t make enough to get you a good lawyer.” Gilbert laughed obnoxiously.

You threw another roll over a branch, jogging over to retrieve the roll off of Emil’s family’s lawn and tossing it up again to get stuck in some twigs way up high.

Speaking of Emil’s family.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matthias shouted from his window on the second floor.

“Your brother is a prick,” Gilbert shouted back.

“Which one?”

“Emil, the little brat.” Gilbert sneered, pulling a spraypaint can out of his sweatshirt’s front pocket, “Broke Y/n’s heart.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell!” You shouted, throwing a roll into Gilbert’s head just for him to wave you off.

“Aw, really?” Matthias frowned, “I thought they were cute together.”

“Yeah well he’s going to the dance with a whore!” You shouted up, “I hope he gets STDs!”

Gilbert erupted in laughter and Matthias snorted, “I’ve never heard you say whore, man you’re getting older…”

Gilbert shook the paint can before Matthew stumbled over his words to object, something about it won't come off and Tino will have his head. But Gilbert, the daredevil he is, pressed down on the can and sprayed a bright red stripe into the trunk.

“Holy shit, you’re gonna die.” Matthias rubbed his head.

“He can come at me,” Gilbert continued spraying, “He’s lucky I don’t spray this directly on Emil!”

It was going to be hard to look Emil in the eye after this one.

✧ navigation.

[elisabethrosewrites]

Something like this?

“Let’s try this again,” said Whumper, crouching so they were eye level with Whumpee. “You may call me ‘Sir’, or you may call me ‘Master’. Those are your only choices.”

Whumper reached out and removed the gag, letting it dangle from their fingers. Whumpee fought the urge to work the soreness out of their jaw, flexing their hands where they were tied behind their back. “Now,” said Whumper, “what do you call me?”

Whumpee smiled. “An asshole.” They said and spat a mouthful of blood at Whumper's face.

Whumper fixed Whumpee with a cool gaze. He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief from a inner pocket of his suit jacket. He cleaned the spot and reached out almost gingerly and wiped a dribble from Whumpee's lip. "So, is that the game you want to play?"

"I think it is," Whumpee said, jerking back from Whumper's touch, their smile growing into a full-out grin.

"Okay then," Whumper stood and a small whimper from behind him drew Whumpee's attention again. Their sibling was watching the exchange with wide, fearful eyes. And now Whumper was turning away from them to approach their sibling, their little sibling. They were the one person in the world Whumpee had always sworn to protect. The one person they cared for more than anything else. Whumpee couldn't believe they had been stupid enough to let themself be caught, let alone caught while they were with their sibling. Their sibling had already been through enough, and with the line of blood dripping from their forehead, Whumpee didn't want to see them hurt any worse. They would keep Whumper's attention on themself.

"I think asshole fits you better than sir or master," Whumpee sneered, watching the fear flicker over Sibling's face, their teeth digging harder into their gag.

Whumper turned their calculating gaze fully onto Whumpee. "You will learn your place and learn your place quickly," Whumper said, his voice as cool as his expression. The lack of inflection was almost more terrifying than if he was shouting threats at them.

"I will never fall in place, not for you not for anyone," Whumpee snarled, anger flaring in their chest.

"Then this shall be rather fun for me, won't it?" Whumper's attention turned to Sibling and Sibling cried out in panic from around their gag. Before Whumpee could so much as protest, Whumper was in front of their sibling. He snared his hand into Sibling's curls and wrenched them upright. Sibling shouted in pain, the sound muffled horribly by the gag.

"Let them go!" Whumpee struggled to get to their knees with their hands bound behind their back it was nearly impossible.

Whumper's cool expression turned to one of satisfaction. It was a small turn of his lips, nearly a smile, but the expression was entirely unsettling especially when it grew in brightness when Sibling started to struggle, blood leaking from their head wound. "It did not have to be this way Whumpee, you could have submitted to me the first time I approached you all those months ago. But you did not and still being obstinate, this seems to be the only way to get through to you."

"Leave Sibling alone! They have nothing to do with us."

Whumper chuckled deeply. "They do now. I've watched you, seen how precious they are to you." Whumper wrenched Sibling's head back harder, their cry of pain stabbed right through Whumpee's chest. Whumper's other hand came up to trace along Sibling's cheek in a mock-sweet gesture.

"Don't touch them,"

"You know how to make it stop, just one little word, and I'll leave Sibling alone. For now."

Whumpee hated how much their entire body revolted at the idea of submitting to this man. But they would not sit by and watch helplessly as Sibling was hurt because of them. They set their shoulders in a tight line and straightened their posture as best they could. Their knees were already aching from the cold stone floor. Every part of them wanted to scream and rage.

They opened their mouth and the one word burned their tongue. "Sir,"

"Much better." Whumper praised and all but tossed Sibling to the ground.

@justabitofwhump

“Let’s try this again,” said Whumper, crouching so they were eye level with Whumpee. “You may call me ‘Sir’, or you may call me ‘Master’. Those are your only choices.”

Whumper reached out and removed the gag, letting it dangle from their fingers. Whumpee fought the urge to work the soreness out of their jaw, flexing their hands where they were tied behind their back. “Now,” said Whumper, “what do you call me?”

Whumpee smiled. “An asshole.”

[the-archxr]

Its one of those days where you feel like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders and nothing is going right. So, if you have time and want to, how would the guys react if you snapped and said something nasty to them on accident? Thanks, luv 🤍🌙

AWE ANON YOURE MAKING ME CRY ALREADY (but also I hope you’re feeling well :))

MARC - I feel as though Marc would take it personally. He wouldn’t intend to, and in the back of his mind he knows he’s being irrational. But you snapping at him—head spinning around, aggression all over your face as you sneer and yell at him to just leave you the fuck alone—would make him like revert, somewhat?? I feel like growing up for obvious reasons, he definitely didn’t like people yelling at him. But after awhile, especially with his time as a mercenary, he likes to think he’s overcome that. Though the second you—his baby, love of his life—even so much as snap at him he gets incredibly worried. Def has a bit of an anxiety attack because he always has and will feel like he’s to blame for anything that goes wrong. But after being with him for so long, you know this, and so I feel that out of three, you’d apologize to him the quickest. Like immediate take-back the second the words leave your mouth. So the two of you just end up consoling each other on the kitchen floor, all silent with your foreheads pressed together as you rub soothing circles into his hip while he strokes your hand.

STEVEN - Out of the three boys, I believe Steven is the most emotionally intelligent. He thinks instead of just purely reacting. So when you’re desperately trying to finish this project for work (which is already going horribly wrong), Steven is painfully unaware and just starts going on and on about this new archaeology study article he read. And ofc, you love his little ramblings, can listen to him for hours. But today just wasn’t the day. So when you ask Steven to stop talking for five minutes, you don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. And yes, it hurts him. Catches him off guard and cuts him deep to the bone. But then he sees you with tears in your eyes and a frown so deep it makes him want to cry just looking at it. And so, silently, without even considering his own hurt feelings, he makes you your favourite drink, tucks your favourite blanket under his arm, and holds out his hand to you. It’s from then on, when the two of you are lying in the warmth of your shared bed that you talk to him about all of your frustrations as he holds you. Completely silent, but listening.

JAKE - so Jake is definitely the type to pick you up from work; drive you to the market, movies, wherever the fuck you wanna go. Driving you places is his love language. So I think instead of you saying something nasty to Jake, I feel as though you’re form of “snapping” at him would be to leave for work without him knowing at all. You want to be left alone, too sad that morning to really entertain having breakfast with Jake on the way to work. So you take the bus. Problem is though, Jake is exceptionally reactive. And a worry-wart. The second you’re gone, with no note or text, Jake paNICS. And then he’s driving all around town looking for you, because obviously in his line of work he fears the absolute worst. But then he sees you heading into work as you drives by, and I feel like that action alone hurts him more than any angry words ever really could. And because he’s so reactive, by the time you do get home, he’s ignoring you. He doesn’t want to fight you; to yell or to scream or for both of you to say something neither of you means. But he’s still so fucking hurt. So he simply doesn’t say anything to you. It’s only until you’re both turned away from each other in bed that you start crying, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again. And if there’s one thing Jake hates the most, it’s seeing you cry. So he holds you from behind, and lets you cry until you’re finally asleep, pressing gentle kisses into your neck while mumbling “mi corazòn”.

✨the-archxr thoughts✨

[oh-katsuki]

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist 

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you. 

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k 

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye. 

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into  outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty. 

No one believed you. And who would? 

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him. 

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year. 

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them. 

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions. 

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front. 

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?” 

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing. 

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out. 

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you. 

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy. 

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter. 

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt. 

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”  

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.” 

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze. 

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place. 

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. 

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently. 

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.” 

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache. 

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested. 

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name. 

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.” 

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.” 

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock. 

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too. 

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves. 

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.” 

Oh, he gets it now. 

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again. 

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.” 

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb? 

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?” 

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life. 

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head. 

“You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm. 

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!” 

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima. 

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better. 

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?” 

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through. 

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder. 

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you. 

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut. 

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course. 

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind. 

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons? 

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same. 

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.” 

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?” 

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you. 

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help. 

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head. 

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-” 

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.” 

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge. 

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.” 

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again. 

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?” 

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss. 

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class. 

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you. 

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock. 

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him. 

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly. 

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.” 

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal. 

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying. 

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips. 

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth. 

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.” 

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat. 

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal. 

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs. 

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.” 

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh. 

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all. 

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds. 

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.” 

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you. 

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.” 

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief. 

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin. 

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically. 

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.” 

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face. 

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows. 

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt. 

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl. 

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips. 

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.” 

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs. 

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet. 

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours. 

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust. 

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.” 

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull. 

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks. 

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy. 

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly. 

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.” 

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together. 

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this? 

“Say it.” 

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now. 

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.” 

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed. 

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.” 

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it. 

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt. 

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy. 

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up. 

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.” 

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long. 

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth. 

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy. 

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96​ 

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist!

[kongkhoi]

do i need to tell you again?

character: scaramouche

warnings: smut, degradation, dom scaramouche, biting, teasing, orgasm denial, blowjob, swallowing cum, hair pulling, creampie, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not proofread, enjoy (?)

“sc-scaramouche! ah-”

you’re laying on the bed, the man above you pinning your wrists down into the plush surface. his head is in the crook of your neck, hungrily licking and sucking, marking you as his. he relishes in your sounds and in your scent, his control slipping with every noise you squeak out. he wants to take you then and there. 

it’s absolutely hypnotic to him. how sensitive you seem to be, how he can feel your hands clenching tighter, how your thighs are on the verge of shaking from desire. he wills himself to prolong the moment. extend his patience. 

after all, who knows what cute sounds you’d let out if he were to.. 

you let out a repressed squeal when he bites down into the soft flesh of your neck, leaving you panting. you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip. 

“bastard,” you manage to spit out. “that’s gonna leave a mar- nngh!”

you’re interrupted when he harshly sucks on that same spot, almost making him laugh at your sudden silence. he smugly chuckles against your skin, continuing his kisses. he trails up your now-sensitive neck, to your jawline, to the corner of your mouth. you can’t stop the mewls that spill from your lips, your mind going blank. 

he takes a second to see what’s become of you. face flushed, lips rosy and swollen, pupils blown wide, marks littering your neck. with a low growl in his throat, he licks his lips at the sight.

“already so needy. i’ve barely even started,” he teases, his voice lilting ever so slightly. it sends a shiver down your spine.

you open your mouth to respond. to deny, to retort, anything. but his lips crash into yours before you do, robbing you of whatever you had to say. his kisses are breathtaking. ravenous but reticent. rough and yet ever so slightly laced with sweetness. before long, he has your back arching and your hips desperately rolling into his--despite any of your claims to want otherwise. heat pools between your legs more and more by the second, making you crave for any kind of relief through friction. but you wouldn’t dare let him know about that.

scaramouche pulls away, meeting your eyes, loving the way your eyes look distant and hazy. smirking, he releases your hands to trail one down to your slick cunt sopping with arousal. your eyes widen at his touch, wanting to become undone with just his fingers alone, only your pride stopping you from outright begging.

“look at this, he hisses. he brings his hand into view, his fingers glistening with your slick. aware of every detail, you take a sharp breath in, entranced.

“such a slut. this wet already? i can only wonder what goes on in your head right now.” he smirks. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he slowly drags his tongue along them. he maintains eye contact, not for a moment missing any of your reactions.

the feeling in your gut tightens at that, almost making you whimper. 

with your hands now free, you flip him over with you on top. you’re freeing his cock from it’s confines when he grabs your hair and tugs, making you moan and look up at him.

“ah, ah, ah,” he reprimands.

it’s a simple gesture. yet for some reason it sets a fire within you. you want to see him cry out in pleasure and yet you obey, staying a hair’s breadth away from his angry cock. you’re eager and awaiting, even enjoying the ache his grasp on you brings.

so you feign annoyance. “what is it this time,” you grunt.

“as nice it would be to have you doing this on your own accord, i could only imagine what a view it would be if i did...this.” his grip on your hair tightens enticingly.

“open,” he commands, and you do, leaving your mouth wide open for him to use like a toy.

not wasting any time, he brings your head down onto his cock. you gag at the sudden intrusion and he lets out a low moan at the sudden tightness your throat brings. tears sting the corners of your eyes and your glare shoots daggers up at him, making the man laugh.

“it only gets rougher from here. but i’m sure you already know that, whore.”

you suck harshly on his dick in retaliation, shutting him up with a grimace.

he thrusts up into your mouth again, building up a regular pace. gagging and choking on his cock, you elicit long, drawn out moans from scaramouche. fucking his cock into you deeper, his breath hitches, his other hand tangling into your hair as well. 

you swirl your tongue around his length and groan, making him pull your mouth off of him.

breathing heavily, he demands, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“can’t handle it?” you chuckle. the spit your escaping from your mouth and the darkened blush on your face drives him crazy. before he can answer, you blow hot breath onto the tip of his cock.

eyes darkening, he grips onto your locks once again, his cock filling your mouth. the even faster pace and the lack of air makes your head spin and your vision blur.

heavy breathing fills the room as you continue to struggle for air, the man above you adoring just how tight and warm your throat is around him as his visage contorts in pleasure. the tears falling from your lust-shrouded eyes is the icing on the cake, and it’s not long after until scaramouche shoots hot cum down your throat.

he releases his grip on your hair and you pull off, wiping the tears from your cheeks. you’re finally able to breathe when he shoves you onto the bed again, your back meeting the cushiony mattress.

scaramouche positions himself between your legs, gripping your thighs so tightly it was sure to bruise. but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. after much anticipation on your end, he hauls your legs over his shoulder, and easily slips his cock into your sloppy cunt, making you cry out.

“hah, you’re not even putting up a fight anymore. has my stupid little slut finally come to her senses?”

you manage to squeak out a response.

“hm? speak up,” he sneers.

“yes!”

he raises an eyebrow and pauses. “yes, what?”

you hesitate to answer. but the way the desire pools in your stomach is more than enough to make you swallow whatever dignity you have left. anything to relieve the burning ache that only builds.

“i... i need you to fuck me, scara. please.”

“not good enough.” he begins to stroke his cock, to send a message. “if you keep this up, i’ll leave you here and get off by myself. so tell me. what do you want me to do to you?”

your throat bobs as you gulp. with a deep breath, you beg. “please. please i need you to fuck me, scaramouche. i-i’m your dumb slut and only yours, just pl- ngh! ah s-so big!-”

upon his bottoming out into you, the only thing you can do is curl your toes and throw your head back in pleasure as his cock drags so deliciously between your walls and his skillful fingers rub circles into your sensitive clit. you can only grip the bedsheets and watch with blurred vision as he thrusts deep into you.

scaramouche fucks into you and ravages you better than you ever could with those fingers and toys. almost pulling out, he rams back into your tight cunt, making you scream. “i can’t -ngh- i can’t, scara-”

“take it,” he growls in between thrusts. “you’re gonna take anything i give you, understood?” 

his head perfectly aimed at that spot you love, hitting it with every thrust makes your mind go blank. it feels so good, you can’t help but babble out incoherent “yes, thank you”s and “feels good!”s. the coil tightening in your stomach and the way you clench around his dick tells him everything he needs to know.

right before you can cum, he pulls out of you, eliciting a whine from your lips, now bitten raw and red.

“hah,” he pants. “bend over. the side of the bed. c’mon, you can do it.”

it takes a few seconds to process. “b-”

“do i have to repeat myself?”

you blush and shake your head, doing as he says. your ass now exposed, back arched, cunt dripping, you manage to comply. the lack of vision you have in the new position sends goosebumps across your skin.

he rests his hands on your hips and caresses your ass, making you shiver. he lines up his cock to your welcoming entrance, groaning at how it sucks him in so nicely. wet, hot, and tight for him, he bottoms out into you. its cruel and torturous, the pace he sets. his cock kissing your g-spot, you press into the mattress at the pleasure it gives you. but you want more. and he knows it.

“more! please,” you sob. “f-faster!”

“all you had to do was ask.”

the harsh thrusts and his fingers digging into your stomach bring you closer and closer to your high. your whimpers and moans come out higher pitched as you near your climax.

it hits powerfully, amplified by your previous denied orgasm. you near scream into the bed, your sobs muffled and your tears flowing. but he doesn’t stop there. you’re still sensitive when scaramouche bends down to whisper in your ear, “god, you’re so -nngh- so tight! does my cock feel that good? going stupid already?”

you try to respond, but can’t form the words. your tight hole clenching tighter around his cock at his venomous words.

“you like that? is that gonna make you cum? go on, then.”

your thighs have long given out, your body convulsing under him. mind screaming from the pleasure the overstimulation brings, hearing nothing but scaramouche’s voice and the sound of wet skin against skin. it’s all too much. you cum for the second time, making him groan at the feeling.

he thrusts harder into you, causing you to cry out. his voice husky and moans broken, his hips stuttering, and his legs giving out, he cums inside. the hot liquid shooting deep mixes with your own slick and cum, slowly dripping out as he pulls out of your used hole. he uses two fingers to swipe up as much as he can and stuff it back into you.

“good,” he pants.

you tilt your head to the side, face red. “mmm. good?”

he nods. he moves the stray hair away from your face and sits down, fixing your body in a more comfortable position. “yeah. we’ll sort things out in the morning.” he pulls a blanket over the two of you. “rest up.”

you sigh as you take one last look at him. “alright.”

[bellafragolina]

When ever I give requests, I give quote requests so the writer can have some fun so! Here is your quote.

“Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason.”

You can do any characters you want! Have fun with it :>

-holding twins anon

this is super cute omg i love this very much! i'm gonna use ingo, emmet, and cyllene for this one <3

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

It's too early, Ingo knows this before even opening his eyes. He can vaguely see the brightness of the morning inching through the thin curtains, can hear Pokémon cry outside the windows, as the city rumbles with life on the streets below. It's a peaceful state, but not perfect. Not yet.

Ingo peels his eyes open, blinks, and focuses in on the figure next to him. You've rolled away some in your sleep, but you're still facing him, expression calm as you half bury yourself beneath the blankets, face squished into the pillows. Ingo smiles, swiping away a bit of drool from the corner of your mouth.

"Before I met you," he whispers, slipping an arm around your waist, "I never knew what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason."

You move in your sleep, instinctually pressing into Ingo for warmth and comfort and security. Ingo kisses the top of your head, and closes his eyes, chin propped on your crown. Yes, now everything is perfect.

Emmet:

Not many people realize that Emmet's smile differ. Passengers on the trains, challengers on the lines, all of them just see someone who is happy. They don't see the exhaustion that plagues Emmet's eyes when he has to deal with unruly people, the tightness in the corners of his smile when people snark at him for things out of his control. They don't see the bored stare he takes when there's nothing to do, or the barely restrained sneer that takes over when he's angers.

You see it, though. You see the expressive way Emmet subconsciously communicates with the world around him. And this means you see the way his smile relaxes, smile but toothy and genuine, whenever you surprise him with a visit at work. The puppy dog excitement that takes over him whenever he spots you always makes you laugh.

"Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason." Emmet announces to you, still with his arms tight around you in a greeting hug.

"But he's always smiling?" A nearby passenger remarks to a depot agent, who just shrugs in return.

They don't know, but you do. And you smile up at Emmet, showing him that you understand him, even when others don't. "I know what you mean. I feel the same."

Emmet beams, conveying his gratitude to you by pressing his smile to yours.

Cyllene:

It's a slower day. Paperwork is surprisingly light, so you and Laventon both have joined Cyllene in her office to keep her company and catch up on things. The Captain usually is annoyed by disruptions while working, but your voices make nice background noise this time, so she allows it.

She glances up from her work when you laugh. Your head is tossed back, arms around your stomach as you and the professor both cackle about something she didn't catch. Still, watching your smile light up your face, and the tears of mirth fill your sparkling eyes, Cyllene finds herself smiling. The peacefulness of the moment is something she enjoys, even as she turns back to her work.

It's not until Laventon has retreated back to his office to pack up for the day that Cyllene addresses you. "Before I met you," she starts, still with her soft smile, "I never knew what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason."

Your responding grin quickly becomes her favorite sight.

🍓🍓🍓

i got a little carried away with emmet's, lol. it's fun to write about the ways someone always smile expresses their true feelings, especially to those they love <3

hope you enjoy, HT! have a great day!!

~Renee

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

hello! may I request for Izzy apologizes to reader headcannons? as much as his emotional constipation endears me im really curious of how you think he would try to apologize to reader for royally forking up like maybe he said something he shouldn’t and it really cut deep 🥺 thank you! hope u have a good day!

Izzy Hands Apologising:

As soon as the words left his mouth, Izzy knew he had crossed a line that he wasn't aware about.

He saw the way your face fell, the way you flinched like he had just shot you, the way your eyes turned glassy.

It left him speechless, unsure of how to respond to that reaction. Before he could scramble a response together, you muttered something under your breath and practically ran away, disappearing under the deck.

"Well done, Iggy," Lucius sneered, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Clearly, he had witnessed the whole thing. "Just had to go run your mouth, didn't you? Had to pick and pick and pick until all the seams came apart," he continued. If he could lecture Blackbeard, he could lecture his first mate.

Izzy stared at the younger man, processing who was chastising him. The scribe certainly knew how to get under his skin, he was a cocky twat, but this was new. Lucius was angry.

"The one person on this ship who even somewhat likes you and you had to go an squander it. Have to make everyone as miserable as you are, right?"

Izzy wasn't sure why he was allowing the scribe to talk to him like this. Who was he kidding, of course he did. He allowed it because he deserved it.

"Fu-"

"Shut up and listen to me," Lucius didn't even give him a chance to snarl back. "You're going to march your snarky little arse down into the ship, you're going to find them, and you're going to apologise before you can't salvage this whole mess?"

"What makes you think I care?" Izzy asked through gritted teeth. The fact that he hadn't told Lucius to watch his mouth and stormed off proved that he cared at least a little, but he couldn't fully kill those defences.

"Oh please," Lucius scoffed, "I'm not as dense as you, I see the way you look at them. You care, Dizzy. But I don't care about how you feel about this. I care about them. You hurt them. Make it right."

Izzy continued to stare at him, somewhere between seething and stunned.

"Now, Iggy," Lucius demanded, putting his foot down.

Izzy snarled but still did as he was told, marching across the deck and down into the ship.

He searched everywhere for you.

You weren't in the galley, the rec-room, or the bunks, and you didn't have your own cabin. You weren't hiding out in any of the storerooms or the ball-room. You clearly didn't want to be found.

Izzy continued down into the hold. After initially glancing around, he was about to give up. It was like you had just vanished. Then he heard a sniffle coming from an unlit corner.

Moving close, Izzy found you huddled up in the dark corner, crying to yourself and hiding from everything.

The sound of footsteps made your head shoot up, partially hoping for it to be Lucius or maybe Frenchie that had found you. But it was Izzy, looking shocked and unsure.

"Come to rub it in a bit more?" you scoffed weakly, as if your face wasn't stained with tears. "Just leave me alone. I'll be up for afternoon chores, alright?" you sounded defeated, too tired to argue.

"Didn't come to kick you while you're down," Izzy assured you, clearing his throat and glancing around nervously, "came to check on you."

"Yeah, well, I'm crying. I'm pathetic. You won, alright." He couldn't blame you for not believing him, he wouldn't believe himself either.

"Trust me, this isn't what I wanted. I don't like crying, don't know how to work with that," Izzy confessed, leather creaking as he lowered himself to the ground. Sitting opposite you and leaning back against a crate.

He wasn't lying. When he scolded the crew, he was never aiming for tears, that wasn't practical in anyway. He just wanted everyone to get their fucking jobs done.

You watched him with a frown. He was just sitting there, watching you, no readable expression on his face. "Right, just burdening you," you nodded.

Izzy sighed. He had no idea what to say but clearly he had said nothing but the wrong things so far. He might as well just get to the point.

"I came to apologise."

You scoffed, couldn't even help yourself, choking on a forced laugh. "You, Izzy Hands, are apologising to me...to anyone?" you asked, obviously no believing him.

"Apparently," Izzy nodded.

You just stared before tearing your gaze away, not responding. You just seemed uncomfortable, and Izzy knew that he had to take the lead. After all, he was the one apologising.

"You're not useless," he stated, taking back his previous statement. One of the ways he had berated you before you finally left.

"I am though, that's the problem, isn't it! You're right!" you exclaimed, throwing you hands up in defeat, catching Izzy off guard, "I don't know the first thing about sailing but it's not like I chose this."

"Few people do, other than fucking Bonnet," Izzy muttered.

"I didn't have a choice. I had to just board a ship and pray I didn't die within the first week. I am useless, Izzy, but I am trying," you desperately insisted.

"I know," Izzy agreed. You just rolled your eyes, you bet one of the Captains sent him down here. "No, I mean that I know you're trying," he clarified.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You know I'm trying which just makes it all the more pathetic that I suck so fucking much," you nodded in understanding, refusing to meet his gaze, though you felt you had no dignity left to protect from the first mate.

"No," Izzy protested, "I see you're trying and I respect that."

"Oh yeah, sounds like it," your wrecked voice was thick with sarcasm, and Izzy couldn't blame you for that.

"There was a time I had never been on a ship. You have to learn quick if you don't want to die or just be discarded of. Had a right bitch of a quartermaster on that first ship, taught us through scolding and punishing us," Izzy told you, it didn't sound like he was lying and you didn't know why he would lie about it.

"Are you saying that you thought you were teaching me?"

"We didn't want to get it wrong, learnt quick to avoid having our rations halved or meeting the end of a whip," Izzy continued, "thought I was looking out for you." You barked out a bitter laugh. "I deserve that," he nodded, accepting the reaction.

"The worst part is that I actually believe you. That something has twisted you up to make you believe that," you mumbled, finally giving in and looking back at him, meeting his gaze. For once he didn't look angry, he wasn't scowling.

"Guess so," he agreed quietly before turning the conversation back to you, "you're not useless, you just haven't had the right education. You're dedicated to learning and that's a good place to start."

"Dedication only gets you so far," you muttered, picking at a loose thread on your shirt.

"Then I'll teach you the rest," Izzy shrugged, at if it was that simple. You eyed him suspiciously, that offer didn't seem very in character for him. "Most of the crew doesn't want to learn, doesn't want to improve, because they're getting by just the way they are. If you want to learn, if you can dedicate yourself to that, I'll teach you," he explained himself.

You watched him for a moment, unable to sense a lie. "...you really didn't mean what you said?" you asked, squinting at him.

"I won't lie, you're not a very competent pirate but you're still alive and that's impressive in itself. But you're not useless, I don't believe that," Izzy answered honestly. "You might get yourself killed on a raid if you don't learn how to hold a sword but I'll teach you, I think you could learn. Which is more than I think of most of the crew."

Sure, he wasn't singing your praises, but he was being honest. You appreciated that he didn't sugar-coat it, Izzy didn't seem like the type to sugar-coat anything, so you knew it was genuine. That he meant it.

You weren't a good pirate but he saw potential in you.

"I am sorry about what I said," Izzy apologised properly, figuring that was something Bonnet's crew would appreciate. "I'm sorry I hurt you," plus, he meant it. He rarely felt bad about berating someone, he felt bad for upsetting you.

"You can make it up to me by training me. And I'm not swabbing the deck for a week," you shifted slightly, the tears having stopped and started to dry.

His small chuckle caught you off guard, but it sounded nice. "Deal," he nodded.

"...thanks, Iz," you gave him a small smile, appreciating the effort he had put in to trying to make things right.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Izzy huffed as he stood. "Need some time?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah...just going to recollect, wash my face, I'll get my chor-" you began to reassure him.

"Relax. Take your time. I'll see you back on deck," Izzy soothed, which was absolutely bizarre to you. But he seemed sincere, he even gave you a tight smile and a small nod before exiting the hold.

Letting out a shaky breath, you lent back against the wall. The last thing you had expected was a genuine apology from Izzy Hands. Maybe he would stay true to his word and things were about to change.

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨5

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) threats, implied and mild violence

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: So between Friday and Saturday I’ll be doing eight hours a day for @buckyownsmylife​‘s writeathon (like 12-8pm EST) but you can send an ask at any time. I will share a list of what I intend to work on and possible ideas later today if you wanna ask some questions or gab about whatever. After the last few days on tumblr and that nonsense, I think we need a little carelessness.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You walked and walked until you could no more. You stopped in front of another humongous set of gates and ordered an Uber. You waited in the dark in the shadow of the wall and a car slowed as it approached. You waved as the model and plate matched the app and got in. The driver remarked on the odd pick-up but you just shrugged and dialed.

You’d called your mom several times and she hadn’t picked up. It was almost eleven then so you gave up as her voicemail beeped once again. You dropped your head back against the seat and held your head. Everything was fucked.

You couldn’t believe it. Clark making the offer, Marcus trying to barter with him. It was all so fucked up. Five years. Five years! You never thought Marcus to be that type, shallow and greedy. Sure, he griped about money but you always made due and you thought if you had each other, it would be enough for him. But it wasn’t and he was ready to trade you to a stranger for a check.

You felt nauseous and crossed your arms over your stomach as you hunched over. You felt like crying but you knew you couldn’t. You had to get what you needed and get out. You weren’t going to stick around to argue with either of those assholes. This was the last time you were going to let your hope be crushed.

How much time had you wasted? On both of them.

You got out in front of your building and finalised the tip for the driver. You felt worse that you were going to leave your work in that cretin’s house. That he thought he could just buy you like he did the canvas. It was all just a ploy to get in your pants. And the way he said it, “I’ll fuck her either way.” Like you would fall into his arms agog and smitten.

You rushed up the stairs as your eyes began to well and you sniffled as you unlocked your apartment door. You wanted badly to trash the large monitor sitting above Marcus’ glowing tower. You wanted to shred all his clothes and take a hammer to everything he owned.

You didn’t. You grabbed your laptop from your desk and swept into the bedroom. You pulled your floral duffel from under the bed and loaded it with your laptop, tablet, and a pile of clothes. You tossed the zip-up pouch with your passport and other important documents on top and hauled it over your shoulder. He could keep the rest of it. You didn’t care if it ended up in the dumpster.

You checked the time as you closed the apartment door and headed down the hallway. It was after midnight. You wondered if they noticed you were gone. You didn’t care. You were sending every penny back to Clark, even if you had to dip into your savings; those years of squirreling away in hopes of buying a home with the love of your life.

That was what you thought he was. You just couldn’t understand how he could be so easily won over by overpriced cars and the ridiculously overdone mansion. You came out onto the street and stopped.

Where could you go? There wasn’t a bus out of town until the morning. You could get a hotel room for the night and head to your mom’s then. God, you felt rotten at the thought of showing up at her doorstep, another failure on your shoulders. You swore to her the last time you talked that you were finally getting your feet under you.

Why were you so stupid?

You dried your cheeks with the back of your hand and adjusted the strap of the heavy bag and turned down the sidewalk. There was a Days Inn not far from your place. They might have a vacancy.

You didn’t make it two steps before you heard the car door. You tried to ignore the man as you were eager to be anywhere but out in the city streets after dark. It was too late to react as the passenger door opened and the dark figure blocked your path. The driver came up behind you and you cried out as you were seized from both sides.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you shrieked, “let go of me.”

“Shut up,” the driver said as he covered your mouth and the other man took your bag.

You murmured into his palm and kicked out with your heel, barely missing the passenger with the sharp tip. He opened the back door and threw your bag inside. He turned back and grabbed your legs as you thrashed and both men struggled to angle you in after the duffle.

You pushed your chin above the man’s hand and gasped, “please, what--”

“Shh,” you were finally forced past the door and it slammed behind you, nearly catching your skirt.

You sat up and pulled on the door handle but it didn’t budge. You couldn’t pull up the locks and your fingers just slid down the switches. Even the windows wouldn’t roll down.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” you kicked the door desperately, “please--”

“Hurry up,” the passenger growled, “don’t wanna keep the boss waiting.”

“Hey! I’m talking to you--”

“And you better stop,” the driver pulled out a gun and turned to point it at you, “close those sweet little lips and be a good girl. We got a far way to go, doll.”

You swallowed and pushed yourself back against the vinyl seat. The driver turned forward and shoved the keys in the slot as the other bent around the console and reached to snatch your clutch from you. He wrestled with you for a moment then ripped it away. He took out your phone and waved it triumphantly as the car began to move.

“Please, what--”

“Don’t make me tell you to shut up again,” the driver warned as he focused on the road, “god damn maniac got me out in the middle of the night with this shit.”

“It’ll be a good cut,” the other man said, “can’t complain about a late night if I’m getting paid.”

“The boss? Who--”

“Fuck, you ever know when to shut up?” The passenger turned to glare at you, “you’re really not doing yourself any favours so please.”

He looked forward again and flipped on the radio. He turned the dial so you were deafened by the raucous tones of hair metal. You cradled your ears and huffed as you fell back against the seat. The street lights flashed down on the seat beside you as you passed and you shook your head.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. But the question still remained; who exactly was Clark Kent?

🎨

You screamed as the man dragged you out of the car. The other came around to grab your other arm as you swiped out with your nails. Your ankles bent under you as you tried to stop yourself on the mosaic stonework. The large mansion loomed over you in the dark, still night. The party was over and all the cars were gone.

You writhed as they forced you through the front door and you tried futilely to shake off the larger men. Your chest hammered with panic and you leaned back as you were dragged up the stairs. You grunted as you wriggled and hissed at how they twisted your arms back and held them firmly.

“Please, please, just let me go--”

“Well, doll, we’ve come this far,” the driver snickered, “you really think you can get out now?”

“I don’t-- who are you? Why are you doing this?”

You were dragged towards the pair of pale doors that stood open as they offered a peek of the studio within. The amber glow of a lamp washed over shadows and limned the lines of the overturned easel as you were taken inside. You whined as the men stopped just past the doors.

Clark sat in the same chair he sat in for your sessions. He smirked as his eyes fell upon you but your own skittered over to Marcus as he sat on the stool by the table of paints. You blinked and batted away tears of disbelief with your lashes. His eye was swollen and his lip split; thick rope held his wrists behind his back and coiled around his torso and legs.

“What--

“Let her go, close the door,” Clark demanded, “I can handle her.”

The moment the hands left your arms, you spun but an arm caught you swiftly around the waist. You were flung back so you sprawled across the floor. You cried out as you met the polished wood and your body rang with pain.

“Hey,” Clark warned and his footsteps neared you as you pushed yourself up on shaky arms, “that doesn’t happen again, got it?”

“Sorry, boss, I was just--”

“Go,” Clark barked as he knelt and took your arm.

The doors slid closed with a harsh snap and you hit Clark’s chest as he tried to pull you up to your feet. You dug your heels into the floor and pushed yourself away from him. You turned and got up on your knees. You climbed to your feet but he was quick to block your path to the doors.

“You left so suddenly,” he crossed his arms, “not even a goodbye?”

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” you sneered, “I heard your offer,” you paused and looked around at Marcus, “and I heard you too. I’m not a whore.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re not,” Clark said patronizingly, “but apparently he doesn’t.”

“Whatever, let me go, I don’t want either of you,” you snarled.

You tried to brush past him and he grabbed your arms and backed you up. “Sweetheart, I don’t have to pay for it. Understand that. And we did settle on a deal but I’m not paying for your services.”

“What-- Why--”

“I’m paying him to watch,” Clark winked, “I want him to see how he fucked up. I want him to see what a real man can do for you.”

“I’m not interested,” you tried to shrug him off but he held firm, “get off of me, Clark. We’re done. I’m sending you your money back and I don’t want to see you again.”

“Where are you gonna go, huh? No job, no prospects, no money?”

“I did alright before you, I can take care of myself--”

“Sweetheart,” he framed your chin with his hand and leaned in, “this is where we make a deal of our own…” his blue eyes clung to yours as he lowered his voice, “you can go along with it and the boy gets to walk off with just a couple bruises or… he doesn’t leave this room on his feet.”

Your eyes rounded and your lip quivered. You sucked in air and steeled yourself.

“I told you, I’m done with both of you,” you hissed.

“Uh huh, but I know you’re not gonna let him die just like that,” he turned his hand and rubbed your cheek, “besides, neither of us are stupid. I saw how you look at me and you know what lies behind those eyes.”

“No, I don’t…” you uttered and looked back at Marcus. He squirmed on the stool helplessly as he stared at you intently, begging you silently as he bit down on the gag. “Why are you doing this?”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he trailed his finger over your lower lip, “it’s okay. Haven’t I been good to you?”

“I can’t… please, don’t make me do this.”

“Come on, let’s sit down,” he dropped his hand as his other clung to your arm, “we have some things to sort out first.”

He pulled on you and you locked your legs. After a moment, your knees buckled and you let him lead you over to the chair. He sat and drew you onto his lap. You sat stiffly as his hand tickled your lower back and crawled up to pick at the straps of your dress.

“You see everything I have, everything I can do,” he said staunchly, “I can snap his neck as easily as I snap my fingers,” his other hand settled on your knee and squeezed. He nuzzled your shoulder and grazed your skin with his lips, “and even if it came to that, I’d still have you, sweetheart. This isn’t about what I get, I know my prize, this is about you and how you want things to go.”

You shuddered and shakily touched your neck. You hated the way his fingertips sent shivers through you and his lips made your stomach churn. You stopped his hand as it crawled up your leg.

“I… I only wanted to paint,” you said numbly.

“And did you really think that was all I wanted? A painter?” he scoffed and slipped his hand from beneath yours. He felt along the slit of the dress and shoved his hand beneath the fabric.

“I don’t… know…” you squeezed your thighs together as his fingers curled into your flesh.

“You really want to make this difficult? Sweetheart, you can’t even begin to know who I am and what I can do. This is just a taste.”

“Wh-why me?” you stuttered as he forced his hand between your legs and kneaded your flesh.

“Why not?” he replied.

He slapped your thick lightly and urged you off of him. You stood and he reached beneath his jacket as you wobbled on your weak legs and looked at Marcus desperately. He shook his head and let it slump down on his chest.

“Now, Marcus,” Clark revealed a dark pistol, “we talked about this. If you want your money, you don’t get to look away.”

You stared at the barrel as he pointed it at Marcus and lifted a brow. You flinched as your emotions swirled in your stomach and every one of your nerves was set alight.

“Sweetheart, you have one minute to make up your mind,” he pulled back the hammer, “as much as that looks gorgeous on you, I want you in only this.”

He pushed his fingers into his pants pocket and pulled out the diamond necklace. He held it out and the gems twinkled in lowlight. You swallowed and reached to take them from him.

“Who are you?” you asked as you hooked your fingers through the chain.

He chuckled and ran his fingers along his beard, “I’m exactly who you need me to be.”