#like i'm honest to god tearing up a little still

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[suiana]

yandere! cheater and gn! reader who's in their villain arc...

you've suspected that something was up when your boyfriend started to get busy with his work, coming home late, hiding his phone from you...

of course you just wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he really was just stressed from his work. he was yourboyfriend after all. you had to trust him, didn't you?

well everything was shattered when you found one of his side chicks under your shared bed. she was naked, only wearing a pair of undies while holding in her pee.

"wtf why are you hiding under here?"

"your bf doesn't want u to know that he's cheating. told me that he'd kill me if i came out."

yeah, so the girl was an asshole to get with your man when she knew that he was in a relationship but at least she told it to your face straight up. also she pissed herself while getting out from the bed so there's that.

meanwhile, your boyfriend was sobbing and crying when he came home. you had found out of his side affairs, a side he never wanted you to find out about. to be honest, your boyfriend didn't know why he he got with others in the first place. he had everything he could ever want in you. you made him feel alive, all the good things you know. being with you was like a dream come true and he constantly felt like tearing out his skin from how happy you made him.

you were his god.

oh, yeah, thinking about it now that's probably it. he felt that you were too good for him and didn't want to taint you. which... was why he resorted to sleeping with others.

shitty move, yeah he knows. don't need to repeat it.

but you... why were you so forgiving? you welcomed him back with open arms, sobbed a little and told him how hurt you were! he thought you'd have up and left by now!

but you didn't.

he knew you were too good for him, he had to treat you better now. he just had to, this was obviously you giving him a second chance, right? oh he just loves you so much!

unfortunately for him, it wasn't a second chance. no, you were about to absolutely ruin this man.

it started with the small things. small rumours about him ranging from how he had a small dick to how he's a pushover... you needed to start your plan slow, you know. tear his reputation of a good and sensible man bit by bit. gotta build up that tension teehee >w<

then from the rumours, you started manipulating the people close to him. crocodile tears, white lies, and a whole pity party for yourself... telling his friends and family members how your boyfriend was an absolute shit of a boyfriend, how he didn't treat you right and how he was the worst an alive... well, it wasn't much of a lie. he did spoil you and treat you like a deity but if he really treasured you why would he cheat in the first place? there's no space left in your life to pity him.

the most important part was to constantly reassure him that you loved him and to make sure that he never finds out that you were the one ruining his life from behind the scenes. can't let him find out that his angel lover is the one that's bringing him to social death now!

by this stage, your boyfriend was completely dependent on you. everyone around him was looking at him like he was the absolute scum of the earth. where did the rumours come from? why was everyone avoiding him? he couldn't even go to work without his coworkers side-eyeing him like he grew an extra head! he's just lucky he didn't get fired-

oh and what do you know. he got fired.

he comes home crying, an absolute mess and a shell of the man that he used to be. what was once a confident and charming man is now a desperate and pathetic boyfailure.

"baby i got fired, i'm so sorry. i don't deserve to be with you."

his arms wrap aorund your legs, tears staining your pants as he seeks comfort from the only person still left by his side. yes, you're the only person left dying for. even his own parents desserted him, yet you stayed. he's so thankful-

"yeah, you're right. you don't deserve me."

it's like time stops the second the words fall from your lips. he slowly looks up at you, eyes widening in horror as his tears dry up. what? was he growing delusional? he must've heard you wrong. no way his beloved god just said that!

"haha... you're so sweet baby. joking around in a time like this-"

"i'm not joking. you don't deserve someone like me."

you slap his hands away, looking down at him as he remains on his knees on the floor. you had a smug smile, expression all cocky as you even started to laugh.

"haha! did you really think i wanted to stay with you? fuck no! i have standards okay? i really didn't want to stay with a cheater!"

your boyfriend didn't know what to think. what were you saying? he doesn't understand. is this a late april fools prank? the way his heart was clenching and the way he felt his face paled shows just how much he doesn't like your words.

"babe stop-"

"i hate you god damnit. i really thought you'd be the one for me but no! you just had to go ahead and cheat!"

but you didn't listen to him.

"let's break up."

oh yeah, you hear that? that's the sound of his heart shattering.

he quickly crawls over to you, face pale as he grips onto your pants tightly. his hands shook with each word he uttered, tone desperate as tears streamed down his cheeks once more.

he never thought he'd start begging for someone to stay when it was usually the opposite but... you were his god. the one he's devoted his entire life too.

so he'll gladly get on his hands and knees for you if he has too. you can't leave him. he doesn't want to be alone.

"please! forgive me! i know i did something wrong but i'm trying! you can't leave me too!"

he looks up at you, face completely flushed as he continues to turn himself into an even bigger pathetic mess. he doesn't care what he looks like now. he's practically lost everything. he has nothing left to lose.

"i promise i'll be better! i haven't cheated since you found out last time! d-doesn't that count for something?"

he gives you a shaky smile, as though that would convince you.

it wasn't.

in response to his words, you could only give a disgusted expression, kicking him away before walking past him to the front door. what a pathetic man he was.

"you know, you look best when you're like this."

you state, glancing at him with a smile before turning to leave his house. well, there's that. your plan was complete and your now-ex boyfriend was absolutely destroyed.

so why did it feel like... something bad was about to happen?

you quickly look back at him, keeping your cool and remaining nonchalant before you feel the blood drain from your face. your best friend?! where did they come from?! and the fact that your crazy ex was holding a knife to their neck-

"no... don't leave me... you can't leave... i have no one else but you..."

what were you supposed to do now that he was holding your best friend hostage?

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

[threadbearsweater]

megumi fushiguro x f!reader. aged-up megumi (early 20's) established relationship, nsfw.

Sex with Megumi is always good. He's attentive, in tune with your body language. You know he'll always make sure you're satisfied, no matter what that might mean in the moment.

He also knows when you're not necessarily feeling it, and when you're perhaps performing for his benefit because you think it's what he wants.

And it isn't that you don't want to make love to him, with him. It feels nice to grind in his lap while he nuzzles his face into your tits. His hands settled on either side of your hips guide you in the rhythm he knows you like without being overbearing. Kissing him feels molten; transcendental, even.

But tonight, you just can't focus. Your body feels puppet-like, and a novice pulls the strings. Your mind is far off somewhere else, not here on the couch where your boyfriend moves inside you while you grab fistfuls of his hair and arch your back a little too far and moan a little too loud for Megumi to believe.

His hands press a little harder into your hips, and he stills you, those jade eyes searching your face while your own eyes remain screwed shut- like you're willing yourself to enjoy this intimacy.

"Hey," he says. It's hoarse and a little breathless. You pout and press harder into his lap, but he holds you firm. "Open your eyes."

You open one eye and stick out your tongue.

"Look at me." God, he's so fucking earnest.

You sigh and open your eyes fully. He's so beautiful- flushed and panting, some of his hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. You admire the view, avoiding the inevitable.

"Where are you?" he asks.

You shrug and slide your arms around his neck. "Right here. With you."

He rakes a hand through his hair. "Are you- do you, I mean- fuck." He huffs a sigh. "Are you even enjoying this?"

He's still buried between your thighs, but neither of you has moved a muscle. You're a bird in a cage. He won't release you until you're honest.

"I just. I dunno, it feels good, but I'm not - I guess I'm not like, into it tonight, you know?"

"Why didn't you say something before?" he asks. He's not offended because he thinks you don't want him.

"I thought maybe if we just...did it, then maybe I'd get there." Your thighs are sticky against his, the lack of movement making your skin feel cold. "Sometimes that happens. I'm not in the mood, then I can kinda get there if we fool around enough."

Megumi frowns. "Does it happen a lot?"

You're emphatic with your denial of his question- eyes widen, arms locked around his neck and shoulders. "No, I swear! I always want you! Just sometimes...not as much. As other times." Oh, your laugh is knee-jerk response to your insecurity.

"Just tell me then," he says. He slips his arms around your waist. He's not nearly as hard as he was a few minutes ago, but you really don't mind. In fact, it's a relief to know that you don't have to pretend anymore. "It's not a big deal."

To know Megumi is to love him. To be known and loved by him is a gift in itself. You're grateful for a partner who sees you, even if it's hard to be perceived.

"I love you," you say with tears in your eyes. You shift so that he's able to cradle you in his lap, chin resting atop your head. He pulls a blanket over the two of you and turns on the TV.

"Love you, too," he echoes. What a relief to know he means it.

[heich0e]

tomura tries to sneak out of your apartment one morning before you wake up, because he has to get all the way back to his apartment before his dad shows up to take him to a 9AM yoga class.

god forbid he be forced to explain:

a) why he slept over at an apartment that was not his own to his father (toshinori would be calling wedding venues and asking his assistant to look into your ring size before they'd even made it to the yoga studio)

nor b) the fact that he was going to a fucking yoga class at 9 o'clock in god damn the morning with his dad, to you.

he slips out of your bed soundlessly, moving as carefully as possible not to wake you. it pains him to do it. really, it does. your sheets are warm, and soft, and smell like you. and you're still there resting so peacefully, tucked under them, breathing soundly with your face burrowed into the collar of his hoodie that you'd worn to bed the night before. you look so pretty like this, tomura had spent at least half an hour just staring at you while he was laying next to you in your treacherously comfortable bed, and would have happily spent another hour more doing it.

there are very few forces on earth that could tear tomura out of bed like this, but the mortifying prospect of having to explain to his over-enthusiastic father that he has a girlfriend is certainly one of them.

he creeps out of your room and into the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and using the lotion that you keep next to the sink that makes his skin feel so nice. you started buying a bigger bottle lately, now that the two of you are both using it, and you never mentioned it but tomura still noticed when the little tube was replaced by a larger version of the same product. next he reaches for the toothbrush that he's started keeping next to yours, double checking the hour on his phone to make sure he wasn't running out of time.

he contemplates stealing one last peek at you in bed before he leaves, but he knows that if he doesn't leave now he won't have time to change his clothes before his dad shows up outside his place, so he heads straight to your front door once he's done in the washroom.

you're standing in his path before he can get to it.

you've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can still see the soft skin of your thighs where the hem of his hoodie hangs peeking out from underneath the edges of it. there's a little frown tugging the corners of your mouth down.

tomura freezes in his tracks.

"going somewhere?" you ask him, your voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from sleep.

oh, fuck.

"morning," he mumbles, a bit nervously, as you pin him in your stare.

"it is," you reply, as though agreeing with him. "early, even. so why are you sneaking out of my apartment like a burglar?"

tomura rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "i, uh, gotta be somewhere."

"you have to be somewhere?" you repeat, a bit incredulously—like the words don't quite compute. you don't seem mad at all, just thoroughly bewildered by the whole strange situation. "tomu, we went three rounds last night and you're awake before two PM on a weekend. are you okay?"

"'course i'm okay," he rushes to get out, tripping over his words.

"did I like... do something? or is there someone el—"

"are you kidding?" tomura's voice cracks and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he reaches out and grabs the edge of the blanket you have wrapped around you, his fingers twisting into it desperately. he knows you can't possibly—can't reasonably—think that he's seeing anybody else when the fact that he even landed someone like you is an honest to god miracle. the kind of underdog success story they make multi-part docuseries on.

tomura groans, shuffling forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder as he snakes his arms underneath the blanket around your frame to hold you close.

"you're being weird, tomu," you say quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag lightly against his scalp in that way that makes him want to shiver.

"fuck, I know, I know,"—he buries his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing in shakily—"'m not being sketchy or anything."

"you are," you remark lightly. "it's not that I don't trust you, I'm just confused."

tomura mumbles something, but the words are lost to the skin of your throat.

"what was that?" you ask.

tomura steels his nerve and takes one last long breath buried against your warmth. he pulls away and faces you.

"I have to go to a yoga class with my dad."

he loses his nerve about halfway through his admission, his eyes flickering away from yours to a point on the wall just above your front door, as a violent heat surges through his cheeks.

"a yoga class?"

he knows it sounds ridiculous. it is ridiculous. it may have been more believable to tell you he was going to hook up with someone el—

"why didn't you just say that?" your laughter cuts through his spiralling thoughts like a morning alarm.

his gaze snaps back to you, only to find you smiling softly.

"you... you're not...?" tomura isn't even sure what he's going to say. mad? surprised? convinced he's lying?

"i mean, i've noticed you've been looking kind of toned lately, but honestly i thought it's because we've been fucking so much," you scrunch your nose up a little. "yoga makes sense on both counts, though."

you turn and look across your apartment to the clock hanging on the wall.

"what time's your class?" you ask him, suddenly worried that this impromptu interrogation may have made him late. "i didn't mean to—"

tomura grabs either side of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and tugs you forward, pressing his mouth to yours while your lips are still parted in speech.

(he doesn't make it to class that morning after all.)

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[burning-omen]

Happy (Belated) Halloween!

Jason Todd x Demon!male!reader

(A/n: I'm tired, I've been getting argued at and pulled into fights that have nothing to do with me from the time I woke up- had a bunch of chores and shit to do and the fucking grocery store was packed and people keep bumping into me and all the fucking prices went way up since the last time I was there less than a month ago- I'm thoroughly overstimulated and getting home to edit and rewrite certain parts of this shitty little fic was a probably the best part of my day.)

Warning: crack fic kinda, blood, Demon!reader, murder, mutilation, and gore, summoning gone right technically, reader has TWO dicks, size difference, overstimulation, masochism, probably misspellings idk I'm not reading it again that's your job, dom/sub, ownership marking, sacrifice (rip that guy, ive been calling him marvin in my head), going missing for a lil while (consensually), OOC jason todd but this is literally porn who cares

word count: 1981 (short, i know, shut up/j)

Halloween parties were the worst. If the loud, drunk, half-naked crowd wasn’t enough to convince Jason, walking in on an honest to god seance was.

Being dragged to a party by Dick, only to lose him in the crowd of people within the first few minutes. He just wanted some quiet- and under the guise of looking for how brother he managed to avoid nearly every conversation that came his way- except for some incomprehensible drunk girl who insisted on holding a conversation with his even though she sounded like she was under water every time she opened her mouth.

He eventually managed to escape from her, finding the nearest room to recuperate in, only to be greeted by a room of chanting, drunk party-goers, kneeling around a shakily drawn yet intricate summoning circle. The chant was Latin- super old Latin- and Jason really wanted no part in this. He knew that demons were real, he knew a lot of shit that was supposedly fake was real- he had Batman to thank for that. So, after standing in the room for about 30 seconds, he decided to leave.

Turning on his heel, not saying a word to whatever party cult he just walked in on- deadset on leaving when he heard choking, and gasps from the mini cult as they clamored around the chanter who had suddenly collapsed.

Taking in a deep breath, cursing Bruce and the unwavering need to help he instilled in all of his children, before turning back to the group.

Laying, choking in the middle of the circle was a young man-

‘He’s drunk,’ Jason thought, pushing through the group surrounding him, their concern was nice- but unhelpful ‘probably choked on his tongue.’

Tilting his head back, the choking became louder- tears streamed down his face, his mouth agape as he clawed at his throat- his eyes desperate and afraid.

“It’s okay,” Jason tried, but he wasn’t exactly known for his bedside manner. “Just let me look.”

He peered down the man's throat- his tongue was wear it was supposed to be, but blood still filled the man’s mouth. Clearly whatever was happening here was internal, there's nothing Jason could do for him. Before he could ask anyone to call an ambulance- he saw something move at the very back of his throat. Even through the pooling blood, he could tell something wasn’t right- what the hell did he swallow?

His neck bulged as something made its way up- that was good- maybe. Slowly pushing up- whatever it was- caused the man to cry out in pain. He coughed and sputtered as it moved up and up until it pushed past the muscles of his throat and out of his mouth. A hand, clawed- drenched in blood, moving with so much force that a crack sounded through the room as more and more of the form inside him- whatever it was- came out. Breaking his jaw to finally reach out and grab his face- he cried out as pain and panic filled him- he turned to Jason for help as his friends fled but there wasn’t anything Jason could do but sit there in horror as an arm lifted from his broken and mutilated face- he cheeks tearing in as his mouth opened to unnatural length.

The bloody arm clawed at the floor, sharp talon like nails leaving deep wounds in the wood. Jason backed away- fear as well as guilt taking over. The basic instinct that anyone who had even taken the moniker “Robin” knew took over soon after, he needs to call batman- he couldn’t handle whatever this is, not on his own. He reached for his phone right as the candle lit room suddenly went dark. Jason, usually so strong and sure, didn’t know what to do. His communicator clattered to the floor as he stood.

He swore quietly- backing up until he was pressed against the wall- the sound of flesh tearing filled the room- still hot blood splattered across his face.

A soft growl came from the dark, deep and steady and growing closer by the second. Then,as if they had never been out, the candles were re-lit.

A massive beastly thing stood above him, horned and winged- a long tail trailing behind it. Soaked in the blood of the man that was scattered in chunks around the room. Despite knowing that he should definitely be afraid, a man had been ripped from the inside out right in front of him, something somewhere in his mind was saying, “would”. The thought immediately made him cringe at himself- he could not survive that- not only were you massive, you were also very naked. With not one but two just as massive, heavy cocks resting between your legs. He’d die, simply put, torn in half Terrifier style.

“Scared, human?” You asked, voice just as inhuman as your form.

Suddenly unable to find his words, Jason shook his head.

The action made you purr- something was so wrong with this man, not running or screaming, but instead sitting before you, his eyes wandering over your body, face reddened as his heart pounded in his chest.

He didn’t even attempt to move when you reached for him, his breath caught in his throat, but he remained perfectly still as you stroked his hair, then ran the backside of your claws down his cheek. All the way down to his chest, pressing just the tip of your claw in, watching as his shirt quickly became stained with blood.

“Not scared? How brave of you, human. “ You mused, “I require sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” he barely managed.

Trailing your claw lower and lower until the point of it rested over the growing bulge in his pants.

“A sacrifice of life is usually offered.” You pressed down, “But, another kind of offering will suffice.”

Jason breathed out- he can’t. Mentally, he could- he’s done all kinds of weird shit, fucking a demon wouldn’t even come close to the worse things he done- it doesn’t even reach top ten with the rest of his family’s track record for weird shit. But physically, that would kill him. One alone would shatter his pelvis and probably paralyze him- two would just straight up kill him. And you really didn’t seem like the kind of demon to go half way- you did come all the way from hell after all.

The obvious thing to do was to say no and call a fucking exorcist- but Jason didn’t do that, instead he speaks, so sure and steady as he spoke-

“Can you shrink?”

The entirety of your form became, your horns no longer scraped the ceiling, but you were still massive above Jason. You didn’t make it easy for him- pressing him into the floor with one clawed hand gripping his hair tightly, knees pressed into the hard wood and legs spread wide open, his cock- which you decided needed to remain untouched for the “sacrifice” to be valid.

Labored breathing, gasping and all encompassing sobs filled the room as both of your cock stretched him to the limit every time you thrusted into him- his nearly blunt nails leaving marks in the wooden floor below him.

With his mouth hanging wide open- he begged- muttering a broken “Please-’’ between moans-

You leaned down, pulling him up by his hair- resting inside him before speaking.

“You want more, human?”

Eyes brimmed with tears, feeling far fuller than felt natural- but so good and warm at the exact same time- deep in his stomach all the down to the very tips of his toes, every nerve so very alive.

He nods, shortly and without hesitation.

You grip on his hair loosens, and he sighs in relief as the burning pain in his scalp stops.

Only to flair up in his hips as you dig your claws into them, literally. Piercing through skin and drawing blood that slid over his skin and pooled beneath him on the floor. Jason, ever the masochist, only gets louder. With the party outside still raging on, you're sure the sound blended into the background- and any attendee lucky enough to have heard the high, whiny moans was listening far too hard.

Thrusting became painful, hard slamming- both cocks abusing his prostate with unnatural accuracy. Pulling out until the tips of your cock were just barely inside of him- then pressing back in so hard his entire body was pushed forward.

Jason’s mind was loud and incoherent - incomplete thoughts running through his head, cut short by either pain or pleasure every single time.

His body spammed unwillingly, muscles tightening and releasing, his hole tightened around you in an attempt to suck you in more- even if more would cause so so many problems for the man.

“So greedy,” you hummed in his ear, and you take cock so well.”

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, overwhelmed and obsessed with the feeling. His orgasm- the first of many snuck up on him, his body overstimulated and oversensitive as hot, white cum shot straight onto the floor.

He gasped for air as though he’d been held under water- his body burned as he clenched around you- pleasure gone- replaced by what could only be described as fire destroying him from the inside out. He cried out in pain, his body writhes and contorts- and yet he never asks you to stop.

You grinned, “so cute, I might just have to keep you, human.”

You weren’t far behind him, cum seeping from both of your tips as you buried yourself deep inside him- it only added to the burning. Filling him so much until his hole, still plugged with your cock, leaks it back out. Down his legs and onto the floor, mixing with his own puddle of cum. You watched him for a long moment, letting him grit his teeth and cry at the pain, before showing your newest pet a bit of mercy and pulling out.

His body slouched onto the floor the moment you leg go. Jason was on the verge of passing out, eyes barely open, covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He has a high pain tolerance and his stamina was through the roof- but fucking hell he was so tired, and everything hurt, from his over used knees, to his damn near broken hole, and the small wounds your claws had made- coupled with an over bearing overstimulation making everything ten times worse- Jason, without question, was never doing this again.

—--- A couple weeks later—---

Dick realized that Jason wasn’t a party person, but for him to just disappear (and possibly kill someone at the party??? What the hell Jay???) for weeks seemed to be a bit of an overreaction.

But when he walked into the manor, happy as can be, after just being gone for three weeks, Dick knew something was very wrong- or very unusual- was happening.

“I had a date.” Was Jason’s only response, as he leaned heavily against the back of a chair, but never actually sat down in it.

“A date?!” Dick is so glad he questioned him in private. “With who?”

Jason shrugged, “met a guy at the party.”

“Jason you just dropped off of the face of the Earth with some guy for nearly a month?!”

Dick didn’t realize how literal that was- Hell has some pretty nice residential areas, it turns out.

“I was having fun.”

Jason, of course, was never going to tell Dick what he has really been doing- or what he will continue to be doing for the foreseeable future- but it was fun watching him freak out at every vague answer he gave.

The mark (brand?? Tattoo??) on his back still felt weird, sensitive from its spot hidden under his clothes, but how else would other demon, humans, and every other sentient being know that he was yours.

(a/n 2: AND I KNOW ITS LATE BUT I STILL FINISHED IT WITHIN A REASONABLE TIME SO EVERYBODY SHUT UP/j)

[missjellyhead]

THOMAS HEWITT X READER | Thomas fucking fem!reader in the middle of the night.

note: I'm back AND I JUST WANT THOMAS FAT FUCKING DICK!

Warnings: nsfw, somnophilia, light dacryphilia.

Thomas is so obsessed with your pussy that he simply can't control himself.

He is constantly pushing his fingers between your wet folds, penetrating as deep as he can, just to feel how you squeeze them. He does this countless times whenever he takes a break from hard work.

Even at night, when you're sleeping peacefully next to him. Thomas hugs you from behind, trapping your smaller body against his chest.

He hopes you don’t get mad at him for touching you in your sleep. He will make sure to apologize later. You're so adorable now that he can't control the urge to fuck you, he can't control his own hands.

But the fact is that Thomas touches you slowly, his unmasked face pressed against your neck as he inhales your scent.

Thomas loves your smell! He could stay there for a few minutes, but his erection starts to bother him. He needs to be inside you as quickly as possible.

Thomas is trying not to lose control as he positions himself between your legs and pulls your pants down. Then he sees your naked pussy and, oh my God, he feels like a wild animal in heat.

He never had that feeling before he met you.

Thomas is always very concerned about making penetration as comfortable as possible for you. He knows he has a dick fat enough to make you cry if you're not properly prepared.

But to be honest, he hopes that his fingers inside you previously, even if for a short time, were enough.

It was not enough.

Because when he takes his dick out of his pajama pants and sticks it in your waiting hole, you suddenly wake up with a start, letting out a tearful scream.

But don’t worry, it’s just your grown man trying to relieve his own lust.

Thomas looks at you in silent apology, but doesn't stop pushing to give you time to adjust.

He holds your arms, guiding them to his own shoulders, encouraging you to hold him firmly.

And you do.

And Thomas wastes no time in accelerating his movements.

He hopes you don't make too much noise, or you'll wake up the other family members. Privately, he hopes Hoyt doesn't wake up. Oh, that old sheriff is definitely the locksmith type, and no one can tell me otherwise!

He places a large hand over your mouth, muffling your tearful but undeniably needy sounds.

You're just a sweet little thing who needs to cum, aren't you? But look, Thomas has worked so hard all day, he's so tired and needy. ~ Isn't it fair that he cums first?

Your pleasure always comes first for him, but tonight you will have to wait a little.

He will reward you, don’t worry.

Thomas grabs your legs and pushes them up, leaving you as exposed as possible. He needs more space to fuck you properly. He wants to make sure he's getting his dick as deep as possible.

Thomas closes his eyes tightly, feeling your hot, wet walls squeezing his dick.

He usually lasts a long time, but now he is completely desperate.

He looks at you, all sweaty and cute thrown on the sheets just for him. He can see a tear running down his face and makes sure to wipe it away quickly. Are you crying because it feels so good or is it just a vestige of the initial pain? Thomas is in doubt, until he hears you moan against his hand in such a lascivious way.

This view combined with your delicious pussy is enough to make him cum.

In a few seconds, you feel Thomas’ sperm filling your hole to the limit.

When he pulls out, cum oozes out of your pussy, running down the curve of your ass and dripping onto the sheets.

Thomas uses his fingers to push the cum back into your pussy.

Even though Thomas is panting now, exhausted and ready to sleep, he keeps stroking your pussy, just to make sure you feel good enough.

Then he looks at you and tilts his head to the side.

Do you know what he means: do you need to cum or are you too tired to do so? He just needs your confirmation.

If you are tired, still a little drowsy and prefer to go back to sleep, he will hug you and pull you close. He will rub your back until you fall asleep. However, Thomas will still want you to feel great the next day when you are finally rested. He will make you cum as many times as you want.

But if you're already wide awake after he fucks you like a damn fleshlight, then he'll be between your legs in the same second, sucking your pussy. Thomas doesn't even care about tasting his own cum. He never said anything, but he thinks it's better that way, because he can taste the mixed tastes, yours and his.

sorry for any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language

[hellsslibrary]

Crazy idea but Omega Shuto Sendou and breeding kink. (Idk if you do heats but I would like to request that too.)

P.s. LUVVVVV your blue lock posts, especially that sae and skirt one❤️❤️❤️

Life is short so why the hell are you wasting it holding back when I'm here like this? (My husband's quotes as titles day 2)

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : I'll be brutally honest, he's so 100% straight in my eyes... This was really hard to write, I was picturing him getting fucked by a woman lol. 🌻 I can't picture him with a man (unless it not works out with his actresses, which is probably the case).

!!Warnings: top!male!reader (can be woman tho, it was in my mind), bottom!shuto, A/B/O, heat cycle, mention of impregnation, cumming inside, Sendou in your shirt, 'whore' one time, round number two million three hundred and five thousand four hundred and twenty seven (Sendou is REALLY insatiable here), mention of scratches on your back/lower back/butt, praise in both directions, Sendou is a bit of a tsundere(?), the reader suffers as I do while writing this LMAO.

"Come on, don't sto-stop, co-come on," escaped his lips for the umpteenth time that evening, while he was lying on his side with his leg raised, and you continued your thrusts inside him.

What time do you fuck? Who knows. How many times have you cum inside? God only knows. How long will it last? So long that after death you will probably be stewing in all the cauldrons of Hell for this lustfulness.

No, seriously, how much longer will it take for this guy to be satisfied? He looks like he's not going to stop for another couple of hours. The way his glass eyes stared at the wall in mute, well, not quite, pleasure was even funny.

You push his raised thigh to the side, making the bed creak under his shifted weight, and he scowls at you, though moans escape his lips, as if in another second you will fuck his whole being out of him.

"You're so fucking hungry... And still so tight," you grumble almost displeased, throwing both of his legs over your shoulder, penetrating his hole, from which mixtures of his slick and your cum were dripping, causing him to arch his back with a trembling moan.

"You're so big inside... I nee-need to make sure that the fe-fertilization has taken pl-place, stupid," his hand falls on his face, covering his eyes, which only makes you exhale in defeat.

Your body bends closer, Sendou's body bends almost in half, although he doesn't seem against the idea, just lowering his hand from his face, revealing the tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Sensitive. Greedy. Whore."

You emphasize your every word with a thrust into him, making sure that you touch everything you need, not being surprised when he comes again, covering your shirt with his fluids again.

His hands grab onto your bare back as you nuzzle into his neck, starting to cover the white skin with hickeys until he can only whimper. His legs were shaking on your shoulders like an aspen leaf, his knees were pressed against his chest making his breathing even harder.

"It's so, fuck, good... the-there... Hi-hit it again... Hard-harder!" he mumbles unintelligibly because of the amount of saliva in his mouth, and you just smile against his neck, biting his collarbone, making him cry out, and pulling away.

"Whatever you say," you shrug, wishing you could just get him to pass out and continue after at least a couple of hours, considering how your hips are already hurting.

The bed immediately started hitting the wall when your hands lift his hips a little higher. And his head rises from the pillows in a loud, ragged moan, pulling another orgasm out of him.

You curse when he squeezes you as if in a vice, which makes you come too, filling him. And when you don't hear the reaction, you look up, and fuck, you just thank all living things when you see that he's asleep.

Your cock slips out of him, reflexively thrusting his cum back inside him, which makes him twitch a little and you cover him with a blanket, looking at the calendar... And then a whimper escapes your lips when you see that this is only the first day of estrus, and you just lean back on the bed, wiping the tears from his face.

[alchemistc]

Eddie's squinting at him. Chim has the entire lower half of his face covered by a hand. Hen - Hen snorts as she turns a corner and gets a good look at him.

"I'm trying to decide if a closet joke is appropriate for this situation," she says, and Chim just about crumbles to the ground with laughter.

Buck glances down at himself - new tee-shirt with the thicker collar Tommy had told him looked nice the last time he'd worn it, green canvas jacket he'd maybe definitely stolen off the back of Tommy's bar stool this morning, loose fitting slacks and a beat up pair of sneakers that may or may not be his own.

Buck crosses his arms and tries to look stern as Eddie's face breaks too. Like he has any room to talk - the father-of-an-absent-child-mustache is a cry for help, Buck swears. And it's not like - I mean it's not like Buck doesn't look good in this. He has it in good authority he kills in the blue-collar fit.

"Is - is Tommy trying out jewel-toned sweaters, now?" Eddie asks, barely containing laughter, and Hen breaks out in peels of laughter too, honest-to-god slapping her knee as she bends at the waist.

"Guys stop!" Hen says, but Buck can tell by the way she's eyeing him that whatever comes out of her mouth next isn't going to be in his defense. "Kar -." Another chuckle. "Karen and I -." Giggles, this time, muffled by her hand. Chimney makes the mistake of looking up at Hen and the bench actually clangs when Chimney drops his full weight onto it while the laughter amps back up. "Karen and I just don't have the willpower to maintain the same waist measurements." She actually squeaks a bit when Buck adjusts his stance, and Buck remembers the conversation he'd had with Maddie about how he'd been picking up some of Tommy's mannerisms lately.

The cackle from Eddie is so high pitched Buck's actually a little afraid he's gonna fuck up his vocal chords. He's - he's gonna keep pretending to be miffed by this teasing, arms crossed and lip pouting, brow furrowed and playing it up, but the jacket still smells like Tommy's aftershave and he knows when he goes to pick him up from Harbor Tommy's gonna look at him like he wants to eat him, so who's really winning here, anyway?

(He hopes Donato isn't there, though. She's pretty brutal with her affectionate teasing.)

A hand drops on his shoulder, and Buck turns to look just as Bobby opens his mouth. "Nice to see you, Tommy," Bobby says, and the three stooges dissolve into tear-filled laughter while Bobby shoots him a fond grin. "My mistake," he says, when he catches his eye - just a twitch of his lips while Buck lays the pout on thick. "Thought you were both out of the closet, not sharing it."

Chimney howls, but Buck has to suck his lips between his teeth when Bobby winks and turns back the way he'd come.

[yuri-is-online]

I'm curious about the first years' reaction to why can't I be your spouse.

I think it'd be hilarious

part one/part 2

A ha yes, hilarious. I am so sorry.

"Why couldn't I be your spouse?"

Ace is struck mute. The blush starts at the tips of his ears, spreads across his face, and down across his neck. Because you don't want him. That's the reason right? He's your best friend. You're his. That's your dynamic. It keeps you both safe from any complications or unnecessary feelings but god if you're just going to look up at him and bat your eyes trying to hold back tears at the thought of not being his? "Jeez, we're still in school you know? Ask again later." You won't get a chance to do that, Ace wants to be the one to ask. You deserve that much from him with how much he teases you, or so he says.

There are two ways I can see this question going with Deuce. He's oblivious to the nature of his own feelings: "Because you are meant to get married to someone you love?" He's overwhelmed with distress when you start to cry at his words, but he doesn't understand the source of the pain. Love is a heavy word, and sure he does love you, your best buds! But marriage is extremely serious and sure he's had dreams about you guys living together and stuff like that but he's sure that's just a friendship thing. Not that he ever dreams about doing that with Ace...

If he does know he's in love with you that little question will make Deuce start panicking because of how expensive weddings are. He will be very happy for you to be his spouse, just give him some time please <3

"Because you're not staying." Jack has accepted you are the one he's been waiting for, but he's never verbalized it until now. He's a bit disappointed if he's honest, not with who you are but with the circumstances under which you've met. He modeled his dreams of what his spouse would be like off of his parents and grandparents, he would love you and you would love him. You would be together forever and build a little life together. But you are from a different world and will have to go home some day, he doesn't get to keep you and he doesn't have the option of getting over you. His only option is to deny that he wants you as his spouse until his soul prevents him from doing it anymore, no matter how happy hearing you ask to be his make him feel.

Epel is happy to hear you say that, but it's a bittersweet happiness. Epel wants you to be saying that because you think he's cool. Because you think of him as a manly man who you can rely on to provide for you and keep you safe from all of the monsters you've faced so far. But he knows you pretty well at this point, he doesn't think that you rely on him because you think he's cool. Maybe that's a goods thing though, you've never been judgemental of who he is even if the words you use to describe him aren't the exact ones he wants just yet. That doesn't mean "spouse" isn't how he wants to describe you, and he's not shy of letting you know that. Just this once.

Sebek doesn't answer at first. He doesn't yell either, nor does there appear to be a gathering storm on his face. He looks despondent, not the look you would want on the face of someone when you start talking about getting married. "Because I have treated you in a truly abominable manner most unfitting of my rank based on a prejudiced view of your character." Anyone who looks at him can see that he's in love, that he has no objection to you being his spouse. But he can't have that, he's unworthy. Not that you wants you to take this personally, he is used to being inadequate. Just let him savor the happiness he felt from hearing you say you wanted to be his in the first place. It is more than he deserves for how cruel he has been to you.

[allthingssteddie]

Steve Harrington ruined his life. according to Eddie If he wasn't so kind to him, he wouldn't be in this mess. If he wasn't so sweet, listening to him ramble on about his problems, he wouldn't have let his guard down. If he wasn't so gentle, letting him stay over at his house after he had nightmares, he wouldn't have felt so safe. And if he wasn't so warm, holding him as he slept, he wouldn't be pregnant with his child now.

Eddie sat down in the back of the stadium in the high school gym, his usual spot, far away from prying eyes. At first, he was okay with keeping his relationship with Steve, the team captain, a secret. Steve wanted to maintain his "king" status, after all.

But now, Eddie felt like Steve's dirty little secret

As the game ended, the guys lingered, patting Steve on the back and congratulating him on a good game. Eddie couldn't wait any longer. "Steve, can I talk to you?" he asked.

Tommy sneered. "What does the freak want with you?" he said, blocking Steve like a guard dog.

Steve pushed Tommy aside. "Shut up Tommy , or I'll kick your ass."

Tommy looked betrayed. "What the hell, Steve?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Let's go," he said to Eddie, pulling him into a empty hallway.

"What's up, baby?"

"I'm pregnant," Eddie said, his voice flat.

"What?" Steve laughed nervously, as if hoping it was some kind of joke.

"You heard me," Eddie said, his expression stiff.

Steve's laughter died on his lips as he sat down on the ground, a look of utter disbelief etched on his face.

"Are you keeping it?" Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's eyes flashed with outrage. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

Steve's face fell, and he looked up at Eddie. "I thought you were on the pill, Ed. What happened?"

"I am, I mean I was... I must have missed a day or two. It was an honest mistake, Steve," Eddie said, his voice shaking with emotion.

Steve's face crumpled as he looked away, tears streaming down his cheeks. "This can't be happening," he whispered. "We're not ready for this. We're still in high school."

Eddie felt a pang of sadness as he looked at Steve, seeing the fear and uncertainty etched on his face. He knelt down beside Steve, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Together."

Steve's eyes widened in panic. "I can't, Eddie. My dad will kill me. He'll send me away somewhere... and God, what will people think?"

Eddie's face darkened with anger as he stood up, his voice rising . "That's what you really care about, huh? Your reputation? Perfect alpha king Steve?"

Steve's eyes widened in alarm as he jumped up, trying to shush Eddie. "Eddie, please,” he whispered, attempting to hold his hand.

But Eddie was having none of it. He pushed Steve against the wall, his eyes blazing with anger and hurt. Then, he turned and ran away, leaving Steve stunned and alone.

Eddie burst through the front door his trailer, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in a pillow.

Wayne, who was sitting in his favorite armchair, immediately got up and rushed to Eddie's side. "Hey, son, what's wrong?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Eddie sniffled and sat up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Wayne's expression softened, and he wrapped Eddie in a warm hug.

After a few moments, Wayne pulled back, his eyes flashing with anger. "I'll kill him," he seethed, his fists clenched.

Ready to run out the door, Eddie quickly grabbed Wayne's arm, holding him back. "No, uncle wayne, don't. Just leave it alone, okay?"

Months went by, and Steve's attempts to reach out to Eddie were met with silence. One day, he saw his chance, but just as he approached, Gareth appeared out of nowhere, blocking Steve's path.

"Hey, Eddie ," Jeff said, appearing at Eddie's side. "Let's get out of here."

As Jeff led Eddie away, Steve caught a whiff of something that made his heart sink the scent of a distressed omega. It was Eddie's scent, and it broke Steve's heart.

"You can't take a hint, Harrington," Gareth sneered, his small omega frame trying to appear intimidating. "Eddie wants nothing to do with you."

Steve held back, not wanting to appear threatening. "Gareth, please...just tell him I'm sorry. Ask him to talk to me."

Gareth's expression was adamant . "It's not happening."

Steve pleaded with Gareth. "Come on, please...just ask him."

Gareth's expression didn't waver, but Steve detected a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Please, Gareth," Steve whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need to talk to him. I need to make things right."

Steve's desperation was evident. In his shaking voice.

Gareth sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I'll talk to him, Steve. But I'm not promising anything."

Steve's heart leapt with hope. "Thank you, Gareth. Thank you."

As Gareth turned to leave, Steve called out again. "Gareth?"

He turned back, his eyes questioning.

"Tell him...tell him I love him," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry. So sorry."

Gareth's expression softened, and he nodded before disappearing into the crowd.

A week went by before Eddie finally called Steve, his voice tight with anger. "Leave my friends out of this, Steve. They don't need to be involved in our mess.

Steve was desperate. "Please, Eddie, just meet me somewhere. We need to talk."

Eddie hesitated, then agreed to meet Steve at the old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. It was a place they used to break into, smoking and laughing together.

As Eddie pulled up to the farmhouse, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. "Why are we here?" he asked Steve, who was waiting for him on the porch.

Steve's face lit up with excitement. "I bought this place," he said, leading Eddie inside.

Eddie's eyes widened in surprise. "How can you even afford it?"

Steve's smile faltered for a moment. "I used my college fund."

Eddie's expression turned disapproving. "Steve, you shouldn't have—"

But Steve interrupted him. "Eddie, please, just look around with me. I promise you'll like it."

Eddie sighed, then nodded. "Well go ahead."

Steve's face lit up again, and he led Eddie deeper into the farmhouse.

The interior was a mess, but Eddie could see that Steve had been trying to fix it up there was a fresh coat of paint on the walls and could see that he cleaned up that trash that piled up everywhere.

As they walked through the rooms, Steve pointed out different features, that he added. Then, they entered a small room that was half painted looking like he ran out. An old crib sat in the center, surrounded by stuffed animals.

Steve's eyes sparkled. "I found this in my attic," he said, running his hand over the crib. "It was mine when I was a baby."

Eddie's heart skipped a beat as Steve showed him the stuffed animals, each one carefully preserved. It warmed his heart

The anger was still there but , but for the first time in weeks, Eddie felt a glimmer of hope.

"It needs a lot more work, I know," Steve said, his eyes scanning the room as if envisioning the possibilities. "But I see something here, Eddie. Something special. A place where we can start over, build something new together."

Steve's words hung in the air, filled with a sense of longing and possibility. Eddie felt his heart stir, his mind racing with the implications of what Steve was proposing.

Eddie wasn't sure what to say. He was still hurt by Steve, and the wounds of their breakup felt raw and tender. He didn't know if he was ready to forgive Steve, or if he even wanted to.

"I don't know, Steve," Eddie said finally, his voice cautious. "I need time to think."

Steve nodded, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I understand, Eddie. But please, think about it. I love you, and I'm so sorry for what I did. I'll give you all the time you need."

Steve's voice cracked with emotion, and he took a step back, giving Eddie space. Eddie could see the sincerity in Steve's eyes, and it made his heart ache.

Eddie looked away, trying to process his emotions. He could feel Steve's gaze on him, but he didn't know what to say. He needed time to think, to figure out if he could ever trust Steve again.

"I'll call you," Eddie said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve nodded, his face etched with disappointment. "Okay," he said. "I'll be waiting."

Eddie turned and walked away, leaving Steve standing alone in the old farmhouse. He could feel Steve's eyes on him, watching him go, but he didn't look back.

After a months of silence , Eddie finally called Steve. "Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Hey," Steve replied, his tone cautious.

They talked for hours, catching up on everything they'd missed. Steve told Eddie about his progress on the farmhouse, and Eddie shared what was going on with him

As they talked, Eddie realized that he still had feelings for Steve. He'd been hurt, but Steve's apology and efforts to make amends had touched his heart.

"I want to see you," Eddie said finally.

Steve's voice lit up. "I'll meet you."

They met at the farmhouse, and Steve took Eddie on a tour of the renovations. Eddie was amazed at the progress Steve had made, and he couldn't help but feel really proud of him.

As they stood in the kitchen, Steve turned to Eddie and took his hand. "I'm so sorry again for what I did," he said, his eyes shining with tears.

Eddie's heart melted at that. "I forgive you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's face lit up, and he pulled Eddie into a tight hug. They stood there for a long time, holding each other, the tension and hurt of the past few months melting away.

As they pulled back, Steve smiled. "I love you," he said.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat. "I love you too," he replied.

And with that, they would raised their little girl and live a long happy life together.

[tojisun]

simon ghost riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; extended foreplay teehee (fingering); mentioned switching

simon hums, the sound rumbling from the base of his throat. you startle, your eyes ripping open and you swivel to turn to him, forgetting, for a moment, that he's here.

that he's been watching you.

he smirks like he noticed; knowing him, he definitely did. still, it makes you self-conscious and you go to shut your legs close, hoping to shield yourself from his gaze, but simon moves so quickly, his warm palm landing on the inside of your thigh to push it down.

"no-"

"shh," he says. "y've got nothin' to be shy about, baby." he grins, all dangerous and mean. “we both know you've long crossed that bridge.”

you huff, rolling your eyes even when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants you in—spread open for him; presented for him.

he rumbles in pleasure, eyes darkening in rippling desire.

"c'mon, pretty, girl," simon murmurs, his fingers tickling the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh, making you tremble. "y'were just showing me how you play w'yourself when i'm not around."

the reminder makes you hiccup, shyness creeping up in slow drawls. you feel warmth filling up your cheeks and you duck down, hiding away from the intensity of his honeyed eyes.

simon chuckles. “such a doll, aren’ya?”

you ignore him and the way his words make your face burn, choosing instead to return to what you were doing—your fingers trembling as they begin to tease along your folds again. the previous sensitivity that you were riding off of has petered away but it was so easy to re-spark it, especially now that simon is touching you. the loose hold he has on your ankle makes your skin thrum and you use the hyperawareness to ramp up the flicking desire into an explosion of untethering euphoria.

your fingers aren’t enough—simon made sure, after all, that your body can only ever cum because of him—but he’s so close. he’s watching you and you take advantage of the attention.

you moan his name, a breathy little thing that rasps itself out from the base of your throat.

“si- si-!”

there is something doctored in the way you mewl, but who can blame you? yes, you’re giving him something to watch, but you’re desperate for more. you try your best to rile him up because you’re desperate for his own fingers or, and this one truly makes your breath hitch, his cock.

simon’s beautiful, beautiful cock.

god, the way it curves. the way the head is pink because simon’s so pale all over. the way his pre- beads like pretty pearls, always has you lolingl your tongue out to catch them before they drip. the way his veins surround the expanse of his girth, drawing his cock to look so macho, especially when you close your first around it.

“fuck-!”

thinking about simon’s cock makes you even wetter, slick gathering between your fingers. you punch the length of them as deep as they can go, crooking them and spreading them apart as your orgasm begins to build, pooling in your belly, making your toes curl.

“simon, please!”

your moans are more honest this time. more truthful despite the pitch that they’ve taken.

“need y’r cock. need y- no!”

you tear your eyes open—you didn’t realize you’ve even shut them tight—at the feeling of simon’s fist closing around your wrist, holding it steady, making you freeze. the peak of your orgasm crumbles, your legs trembling at the feeling of having it be ripped from you.

“no!” you cry again, thrashing. “why’d you stop me?! wanna cum, please, baby? wanna cum, please!”

“shit, lovie,” simon rasps out, looking dishevelled himself. your eyes flick down to his waist and you realize, with a coo, that he’s taken his cock out to palm himself while watching you.

you bite down a smile at the realization—you’ve won.

“y’almost made me jealous of y’r pretty fingers,” he croaks. you track the way his chest heaves, his muscles and his pecs rippling underneath the tight shirt he’s wearing. “lemme fuck you now, yeah, baby? y’want that?”

you lick your bottom lip, trilling to yourself when simon’s sharp eyes zone in on the action and tracking it with vivid intensity.

you hum then, teasing, and you shake his hold off of your wrist which simon easily acquiesces. he watches as you pull your fingers out of your cunt, slow and deliberate, before presenting them to him, the length of them having a thin sheen because of your slick.

“lick f’r me?” is what you reply to him instead.

simon full body trembles before circling your wrist for the second time today. this time, though, with a different purpose. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he drops his jaw open to take your fingers in.

you mewl at the same time that simon groans and, you wonder, if you can last another round after this. maybe you’d bring out your strap then.

[upon-sunflower-trails]

it cries a soft weep like mine

nam-gyu x reader | oneshot | 1965 words

songfic, i guess? based on eric by mitski. if i'm being honest, this fic was really cathartic for me to write.

warnings: nsfw. pretty fucking toxic relationship, nothing physically or sexually abusive, but it's really toxic. fairly graphic depictions of sex. emotional abuse. manipulation. dacryphilia.

You like control, well, I do too

Take off my clothes and watch me move

You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me

How you choose

It had been a little over six months since you decided to pursue a relationship with Nam-gyu. You'd met him through a mutual friend, where the attraction was almost instantaneous.

That's all it seemed to be. Purely physical attraction. You knew you wanted more, to have a relationship that was full of genuine intimacy. You wanted the sort of love that led to late night conversations in bed, with your hands threaded in his hair as you both looked up at the ceiling, gentle smiles on your faces.

Nam-gyu was not that kind of lover. It was all about how far he could take things without you pushing back. He used you for sex and not much else— it's not like he was ever home. You couldn't tell if you preferred the crippling solitude that settled in your gut when he was out doing god-knows-what during the day, or if you wanted to cling to him despite the ways he made it clear you were of no importance to him.

In the beginning, you pushed back. You two would constantly argue over the smallest of things. He wanted to be his own person, even if it meant disrespecting his relationship with you. You still had enough strength to stand your ground, to yell back as he slammed his fist against the counter. 

You still remembered the first time you had come home to him in bed with someone else, as they scurried out of the door as Nam-gyu laid still in bed with a smirk on his face, disregarding the angry tears streaming down your face as you shouted at him like a rabid dog barking at its owner. 

You wanted to leave then, but he convinced you to stay the same way he always did. Pleading with you, pretending he cared in that moment— promising he would change, that he had a moment of weakness. Things had been so difficult for him, he wasn't in the right state of mind. And then he'd have you bare in front of him, knowing he would be able to reel you back in any time.

Help me with the zipper on my skirt, it's stuck

As you kneel, I'll be watching you fix me

This view of you, of the top of your head

Makes me forgive you

After a few months, even your mutual friends could tell things weren't right between you and your boyfriend. You had become more withdrawn and careful with your words. You refused to drink, knowing it would lead to you breaking down and spilling your guts to anyone in proximity to you. 

Nam-gyu paraded you around as if you were an exotic pet on a leash. He would shut you up if you even dared to speak in front of the people who were no longer your friends, but his. He convinced you that their worried glances were instead glares of disgust, that everyone knew how mean you were to him behind closed doors. You believed him; how could you yell at him when he had been trying so hard to get better?

At one get-together, the same person you had caught him sleeping with was there. Even in your wounded state, it festered— festered until you could feel every rational part of you become infected with blind rage. You snapped as he placed an arm on theirs after ignoring you all night, even though to anyone who was watching it was obvious he was simply helping to steady them after they had fallen.

You were made to be the fool. Onlookers saw you as insecure, jealous, crazy. Nam-gyu played the part of the hurt boyfriend who couldn't believe the accusations you were throwing at him. Everyone believed him, because why would they trust you? You had been acting strange and distant for months now.

That night, Nam-gyu hadn't berated you. He simply helped you undress, murmuring that he would make it up to you.

"Don't know why you always make me out to be the bad guy, baby." "I was just tryin' to help them. Didn't you see them fall?" "We already talked about this, why do you keep bringing it up?" "Am I not allowed to have friends now? I'll just stop talking to them, if that's what you want. In fact, I'll stop going out entirely."

He said it all as he helped you out of the shoes that were blistering your feet, unzipping the skirt you had been fiddling with all night. He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes glistening as he did his best to seem hurt by your accusations. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he jutted out his bottom lip, wailing that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

So you let him back in again. You turned a blind eye yet again to all the trouble he had caused you, because at least he was a good fuck for the night.

But how long, how long can we play this way?

I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you

My heart, my heart wants to hold you

But I know, I know, I know the rules

Six months in, you knew you held nothing but an odd mix of sorrow and contempt for Nam-gyu. You tried to rationalize it, that this was what love was really supposed to feel like. 

The only physical intimacy he engaged in with you was sex. It was never gentle, or soft, or tender; it was bordering on violent and possessive, despite you not truly belonging to him. And as soon as he had spilt himself into you, he would turn away and not allow you to hold or touch him. He claimed he never saw the point of cuddling or any sort of aftercare.

You knew he heard the sobs that racked your body every night. As you clutched the comforter close to your bare chest, pillow wet as the thick seed between your legs served as a constant reminder of what you were putting yourself through.

Some nights, you would reach out as he was sleeping, desperate to brush the stray hairs from his face. He truly looked peaceful like this, his resting state making you forget how cruel he could be. Every time you outstretched your limbs, craving any sort of loving embrace, you retracted at the last minute. You knew to roll back over and force your eyes shut, praying that perhaps this was all just a bad dream you were going to wake up from. That you were in such a happy relationship in real life, you were forced to have constant nightmares of what a terrible relationship would look like.

And every morning, as harsh sunlight beat in through the blinds on your face, you were reminded that this was your reality. That you would turn over, and Nam-gyu would be gone— not in the way that he had never existed, as the divet in the mattress suggested, but that he left without bidding you farewell as any good lover should.

You knew you weren't in love with him. How could you be? You despised him, deep down, even if you never admitted it to yourself. But you had promised yourself to him at some point down the line, and he hadn't dumped you on the side of the road yet.

So, for now, you stayed.

Blue light, dark room, the white of your teeth

As you smile at my trembling shoulders

But your skin, did you notice your skin?

It cries a soft weep like mine

You always tended to cry during sex with Nam-gyu. Perhaps he had just gotten used to it, or he had twisted in his mind that they were tears of pleasure. Either way, it didn't matter.

You enjoyed the release, yes, you only stayed with him for the pleasure. Well, that was what you told yourself. 

You wept as he thrust into you, because it was the only time the relationship felt real. His presence was overpowering, as the stench of his cologne settled into your nostrils while the cold sensation of his rings against your sides were the only thing keeping your mind tethered to reality.

He would growl into your shoulder as he bit and nipped at you, leaving marks that you never hesitated to cover (since they were a reminder that you were with him). His teeth shone in the low light of your "shared" bedroom, amusement coming out as a hiss as you cried out his name, a mix of pleasure and despair at your current situation.

Insults and degradation would be hurled your way under the guise of him "getting too into the moment." You always tried to ignore when he would moan out someone else's name. It only made you cry harder, and that only made him rougher. You guessed that your sobs spurred him on, that in some twisted sort of way seeing you in such a broken state aided his arousal. You never wanted to think too much into it, lest you begin to bawl even more.

Every once in a while, on extremely rare occasion, he would let a tear slip as well. Maybe it was a sign he was still human, too. That deep down, he felt sorry for what he had put you through. He was always quick to hide it as soon as it happened, and just like that he would go back to the same Nam-gyu he always was.

Those nights, you would always hear sniffling and muffled sobs beside you as you wiped your silent tears away.

I'll sell, I'll sell my whole to you

What's my, what's my, what's my price?

How about, how about just a part of you?

You were too deep in to leave when Nam-gyu finally began investing your money in things as well. He had lost everything already, and now needed your financial aid to pick him up off the ground. You wanted to be the perfect partner to him, to support him in his time of need. You tried to find any positive you could about him as you got deeper and deeper into the relationship, making decisions that would only solidify your inability to leave him.

You had lost everything alongside him, drowning in debt as he made even more irresponsible decisions with your money. You couldn't even stick up for yourself, let alone get out of the situation entirely. You were stuck, practically entrapped with a barbed-wire engagement ring digging into your finger. You laughed at the idea, but realized the metaphor didn't seem so far-fetched.

You weren't sure what it was that you did that finally pushed Nam-gyu over the edge. He abandoned you without a word, one day muttering something about making up his debts and the next day vanishing into thin air. You weren't sure if he'd ever return. Deep down, you knew you didn't want him to. But as it stood, you were crushed. Lost and hopeless without him, simply going through the motions everyday with no solace in pretending he loved you at night while being shoved against the headboard.

In some strange way, you missed him. It wasn't as though he completed you, but you had become so wrapped up in a life not with him, but of him, that you weren't sure how to exist outside of being Nam-gyu's. 

You weren't sure how to survive without the assurance of him being in your life.

'Cause I want, I want, I want, I want

I want, I want, I want, I want, I want.

[queers-gambit]

Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[r0-boat]

Lucifer headcanons PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS (Maybe what most citizens of hell think of him? And how they and the kings react when mc gets close to him?) PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

I'm not confident in my Lucifer headcanon's since I wrote that Lucifer breeding fic but heeeeeere hhhhh

Lucifer headcannons

NSFW&SFW

Lucifer was once an angel and as angels the assistance of God they help make humans and devils so it would make sense that Lucifer one of God's most prized angels would know a fair amount of human and devil anatomy.

Perhaps he became Hell's greatest doctor because he felt guilt of how much useless slaughter he and his brothers did. So, instead of killing, he wanted to help. And his subordinates, supportive of his dream, became healers and doctors with him.

However, he is still the demon of pride, and he wants to be your primary care doctor, and he will not sway his will. The Kings really don't fight him on this because, well, he is the right person to trust with your health.

My most favorite headcanon (and probably the least true, to be honest) is that since his fall, he is slowly learning about sex and sexual attraction. And you are playing a heavy hand on corrupting him, and he loves it. He was a pious angel; though not perfect to many of his brethren, he was considered highly regarded. And now look at him, fucking you till you cry in an act so obscene that it would make his brothers weep. Corruption kink Lucifer. Go brrr.

He wants to corrupt you, just like you corrupt him, but how do you corrupt someone who is already sinful filth/affectionate

Lucifer sees you as the perfect partner to try sexual acts with because he trusts you the most, and he likes you. That goes without saying. Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer is a fast learner. Once you teach him how to pleasure you, the next thing you know, he'll be making you writhe and scream.

Lucifer is a little bitey during sex. Especially when he is about to come, he clenches his teeth before to stop himself from sinking his fangs into your neck, but he can't help it. He needs to feel your soft skin in his mouth. His favorite places to bite are your neck and your thighs, other than your tears and your cum,. Your blood is the third favorite taste.

Lucifer is on the more serious side; jokes tend to bounce off his head. Especially ones made by younger devils... So much so that he gets angry when anyone mentions any word he cannot understand.

As the demon of pride it is his way or the highway. He can break any rule he wants but you, less you want to be a brat (please do He likes to punish). You may not break any rules of his.

Lucifer is as caring and gentle as he is strict; your tears frighten him just as much as it arouses him. He doesn't want to see you cry if it's not from pleasure. His gaze will grow soft, his voice deep and gentle, calling you cooing as he wipes away your tears.

He still has that little bit of animosity toward you He knows it is not your fault. He tells you straight up that it's because he is an angel. Even though most of it is mostly gone, he still gets a slight sickly pleasure from making you cry; He can't help it. He's a little bit of a sadist when he comes to you.

Everyone knows what Lucifer's penmanship looks like but no one can fucking read it. It's a mess of This is the most doctor shit you've ever seen. To you it just looks like an L and a squiggle written in a shimmering gold font (expensive fountain pen gift from Mammon)

Mammon likes Lucifer in a sort of "ooh, that man is pretty; never had an angel in my collection before." Where when Lucifer sees Mammon, it's mainly with Satan, so his first reaction is "God damn it not again."

He still calls you child of Adam or child of man And he still apologizes for it.

Lucifer is quite the romantic despite now becoming a devil, he thinks that hellborn devils should learn that sex is much sweeter when the tension is right. Basically his version of "these youngsters are still young SMH"

Lucifer unironically likes Twilight.

Lucifer texts like he is a character AI bot with perfect English and punctuation. Good luck trying to text him back because he knows nothing about text slang.

You annoy him so much and he loves it. You're so cute please keep pissing him off he'll still love you even when he kicks you out. He literally can't stay mad at you.

He's wondering how the fuck are you still alive You've been wondering that yourself all these years. Maybe that's why you so protective over your health now.

Dads you a lot. "You have to eat this finish your food it's healthy. Blah blah blah- too much screen time is bad for your eyes." "Blah blah blah-humans should get at least 8 hours of sleep Go to bed- blah blah blah." "Stop eating shitty foods and actually cook a decent meal-blah blah blah." at this point, calling him Daddy is becoming less of a joke.

Also Lucifer: buys you chocolates, takes you to fancy dinners.

Lucifer hates being called Daddy. And he hates that he's starting to like it; please stop.