#lock anyone out. to be fair I had a habit of getting up in the middle of the night sneaking to the kitchen and eating slices of processed

[milo-is-rambling]

Nothing like some light substance abuse to really make you feel like a child again

[xazse]

im begging anyone LITERALLY ANYONE to write any sort of wanderer x reader x xiao love triangle (either poly amorous or not), i love thinking about what their impressions of each other would be and how they would go about trying to one up the other guy (since i feel like there would be an intense feeling of rivalry between the two)!!

I know you JUST submitted this but I had to write abt this. Dont worry to my other requests I will get to you my loves!

FEM!READER WITH BOOBS

Xiao and Scaramouche don’t really get along when it comes to you, they’re always at each others throat about who gets to be balls deep in you or who gets your pretty lips wrapped around their cocks.

They make it a habit to get you alone, Xiao not very talkative will seduce you with his actions: bringing you whatever you want or making you whatever you want, anything to get you in the mood.

Scaramouche just outright declared what he wants, he wants you on your knees, back arched and ready to go? He’ll immediately let you know. He wants you to jerk him off right in the living room, not caring about how loud his moans are.

Scaramouche makes it a habit to lock the bedroom door anytime he’s managed to get you alone. Who cares if Xiao comes knocking at the door speaking about how much he needs you, ignore him!

Xiao doesn’t play like he does, he’s a bit sweeter and more mature, if he gets you alone he’ll let Scaramouche in but won’t allow him your cunt, thats fair at least in his eyes.

One day they’re both messily kissing all over you, saliva decorating your skin creating a thin layer. Kuni is inbetween your thighs, sucking on your nipples or has been for the past couple of minutes, Xiao is underneath you, holding you softly and attacking your neck, you can feel both their throbbing lengths pulsing against you, so needy and all for you.

Xiao maneuvers his hands to pull his underwear down just a little to free his thick cock, you can’t see with Scaramouche blocking your view but you know he’s dribbling lots of precum, you’ve been insistent that you needs lots of prep for what reason they don’t know.

He’s stroking himself slowly, not wanting to cum early, he’s been begging to cum inside all day, so has kuni, you know if you let one go before the other it’ll cause issues so you’ll take both of them just to not hear bickering all night.

You urge Scara to take his cock out as well, a little clouded and with lusty eyes he takes out his veiny long cock, also beginning to stroke himself. Impatient as he is, he hurriedly rips off your panties: you’ll definitely scold him for that later.

He says he can’t wait any longer and begs for your permission, you give him a nod and he’s already pushing the blunt tip in your wet hole, you can hear Xiao already needily whining in protest but you’re quick to grab his cock at an awkward position and push his cock in as well.

They’re both taken aback but don’t ask you to stop, the feeling of their cocks brushing up against one another definitely isn’t unwanted, this paired with your gummy walls feels so fucking good. They can both feel each other cocks twitching which in turn makes for some pretty noise leave their lips. You aren’t fairing any better, feeling full and also amazing, your head lulls to the side, Xiao takes it upon himself to decorate your face with kisses.

When they start moving it’s just a different story, they move in tandem, thick cocks creating friction and making you wetter by the second, your cunt clamps down on them every interval.

You can all really feel each other, every stroke provides you lot with more and more ecstasy, Xiao is the first to cum with a Loud yelp that settles into a low cry, Scaramouche is still pushing and dragging his cock along your walls and Xiao’s cock. He realizes that he can’t pull out until Kuni finishes, so he’s stuck whining and biting your ear until then. Scaramouche rubs your soaked clit in fast circles, admiring how you twitch and fumble around as your body accepts what’s about to happen.

He also pries your thighs all the way open, still fucking into you until that familiar spasm in his stomach signals to himself that he’s dumping his thick load right into you. Still rubbing your clit you cum but not without squirting just a tiny bit, it’s still something.

They both manage to pull out, Xiao is out like a light and Scara flops beside you on the bed, open mouthed panting and already opening his mouth to brag about how he made you squirt, they both did but you won’t ruin his high just yet.

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.

[ddejavvu]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader ft. remus and sirius

summary: james is surprisingly willing to help you despite only having known you for a few weeks.

contents: reader is on her period, james barges into the bathroom because he's That Close to his friends

Sharing both a room and a bathroom with three men after having shared with four women is jarring, to say the least. Your old roommates could be slobs, of course, but there's something about James's habit barging into the bathroom whenever he pleases that doesn't sit right with you at first. You understand why he'd done it before you'd gotten there; you're sure they all had. You had no problem brushing your teeth beside Lily or Marlene while they were showering or peeing, but now that you're equipped with different tools than the rest of your roommates, it just feels wrong for them to see.

You first encounter it on a Monday morning, an appropriately terrible day for a terrible experience. You've just gotten up, and you're using the bathroom before you get dressed for the day, when James decides he needs to shower right then and there. He shouts a quick, 'Comin' in, mate!' Before turning the knob with the broken lock and storming right in, not giving you enough time to announce your presence.

"Ah- James!" You think you'll die right then and there, hands hovering over your crotch as James realizes what he's done. He's butt naked, probably tired after practice and in need of a steamy shower, but he's not any more enthusiastic about you seeing his parts than you are of him seeing yours, and he scrambles to cover himself up.

"Uh- sorry. I didn't realize it was you, I thought- I thought you had classes this morning. I apologize," He smiles kindly, though his eyes bulge where they're glued to your own, "Uh- you can... get back to business."

Neither of you had looked each other in the eyes for nearly 36 hours, but eventually the awkwardness died down, and you moved on.

Until the second time.

"Y/N," He calls, while you're in the shower, behind the flimsy curtain, "Listen, I know you're in the shower and all, but I'm running late, and I really need to brush my teeth. I don't want to rush you, can I just- just pop in there for a second? I swear I won't look."

You're at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish while the water streams around you. You appreciate his consideration, you know he doesn't want to scare you off or cross your boundaries, but it's a bold request. You're covered, sure, but the bathroom light is on, and you're sure you've got a silhouette behind the curtain. But you're going to be a while longer, and it's not fair of you to hold James up.

"Uh- sure," You stammer, covering up your chest like he'll be able to see through the curtain with laser eyes, "Come on in."

He doesn't hesitate to rush inside, but he's considerate enough to close the door after himself so that no one else stumbles upon you. You appreciate it, but you're frozen as he brushes his teeth quickly, bidding you a cheery goodbye like he hadn't just skimmed over giving you a heart attack. He shuts the door on his way back out, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in his tone when he chats with you about his day later.

The third time, the third time is the kicker. You've started your period, the first time since you've been staying with James, Remus, and Sirius. You're sure they wouldn't give you a hard time for it, they seem decent enough so far, but there's just something mortifying about putting a used pad in a man's bathroom trash can.

You've changed your sheets before anyone can see the red stain, but your panties haven't been as fortunate yet. They're laying stained and wet on the ground beside your equally mangled shorts, hopefully not transferring the blood to the fabric below.

You don't get any warning, not enough time to hide them when you hear James's heavy footfalls by the door. He barges in without warning, face shifting to apologetic for only a split second before he registers the bloody clothes on the floor.

"Aah," He yelps, "Fuckin'- Are you wounded? You- oh." His sex education catches up to him, realizing why you've got blood only in the pad of your underwear, "Uh- right. Sorry."

"Get-" You start with a hiss, but you rein yourself in, trying to be kind, "James, can you- can you please get out?"

"Yeah! Yeah, right, I'll-" He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, "Uh- the guys are coming, so I'll head out. And-"

"The- what? Remus and Sirius are on their way back?" You panic, regretting your late wake-up. You could have really used the time they spent at breakfast to clean up."

"Yeah, they're- at the door."

"Close the door!" You urge him, as you hear the two other men enter the room. James does as he's told, but instead of stepping out, he steps in, panicked by your harsh tone of voice.

"Not- no!" You gush, but when he tries correcting himself, you lunge for his hand.

"Don't leave!" You beg, but rush to explain yourself when he frowns worriedly at you.

"I don't-" You whisper, "I don't want them to know I'm in here. Like- like this. If you leave they'll know. Just-" You fall silent with a sigh, "I don't know."

"Right." He nods, keeping his voice down so that it's muffled to Remus and Sirius, "Uh, I'll-"

"James? Mate, m'coming in," Sirius's voice comes from just outside the door, and you and James stare at each other, terrified. He rushes to slam his back against the door, and Sirius is unable to turn the knob.

"No! Uh, you can't-" James stammers, clearing his throat and steeling himself, "Use the bathroom in the hallway. I've got the squirts, mate, you don't wanna be in here with me."

You're lucky that Remus and Sirius groan in disgust, because it muffles your quick snort into your fist.

"You fuckin' animal. I told you not to cram those sausages down your throat," Remus snaps, "Now we can't use it for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, yeah, I've learned my lesson," James promises, shooting you a knowing wink, "Now get out!"

You're fairly certain you hear Sirius groan 'gladly', but you can't be certain. Their footsteps recede, then the outer door shuts, and once again you're alone with James. You wait for him to leave, but he lingers for a moment, politely avoiding staring at your soiled clothes.

"Right, well, they won't be back for a while. Do you want me to leave, too?"

"Uh- no, it's- it's okay," You decide, "You know."

"Yeah. Do you need any," James cringes before he even offers, "Help? I mean, I'm sure you've got wiping down, just- do you want, like, chocolate or something? Doesn't that help?"

"No! No, James, it's alright," You assure him, touched by his offer even if you're also embarrassed by it, "I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"No trouble," He shrugs, letting himself out of the bathroom and hovering in the doorway, "I know where Remus's stash is! He probably won't even notice it's missing, he's got so much. I can snatch some for you?"

"Really, it's okay," You smile kindly at him, still doubled over on the toilet with your elbows covering what you don't want him seeing, "Just- a moment alone, please?"

"Right," He nods with a grin, shutting the door, "Sorry!"

You breathe deep when you finally have a moment alone, cheeks burning with mortification. You're not sure you'll recover from this for a month, conveniently just enough time for it to happen again. You clean yourself up swiftly, not eager to spend more time in the bathroom that's revealed you to your roommate thrice in a month now.

James is kicked back on his bed when you reenter the main room, and he shoots you a kind smile that you bashfully return. You get to work putting new sheets on your bed, but when you move your pillow, you find a chocolate bar tucked under it.

If the sly grin on his face as he turns the page of his book is any indication, he's heard your light chuckle, and knows you appreciate him.

[reveluving]

But just, imagine Graves is suuuuuch a hard ass to you in front of his men and a total ass (almost more than he is to his other men) so it doesn’t seem like he’s giving you favoritism and doesn’t make it obvious that you two are doin’ the dirty dooooo. But behind closed doors Graves gives you whatever you want. Want to go on a specific mission? Sure. What a shiny new gun? Absolutely. Want him to bed you over in his office and just devour you(I imagine this mans is such a giver)? Fuck yes. Wanna blow him under his desk while he’s on the phone with Shepherd? He’s already rock hard and ready. AHHHHG It’s just Warren’s Graves’ damn smile. 🫠

WARREN'S GRAVES’ SMILE MAKES ME INSANE TOO, BABY! I FEEL YOU 🤲🏼😭

Includes: mentions of s~mut; oral s~ex, both m & f receiving (minors DNI!), sugar daddy-ish Graves (but he loves tf outta you), this man is a GONER. 

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! ��

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Pray for this man because Phil knew he was done for as soon as he first saw you ✋🏼😔

Him being extra hard on you (in more ways than one) isn’t necessarily in terms of raising his voice more than the authoritative tone he already uses, but more so with an intense stare, or a deeper tone, you know? A stare which I feel like it takes everything in you not to do anything embarrassing as you stand with your team, be it a moan or a slight indication of you rubbing your thighs together. 

And it takes everything in him not to express his satisfaction the way he would behind closed doors. 

No doubt you can take whatever he gives as a commander, just like how he treats the rest of his team—you were a soldier before you were his, after all. But as soon as you and him get together, he has some sense of not letting his ego take charge in a disrespectful sense just to prove a point in front of his company. 

Listen, he’s not a relationship guy. He’s had his fair share long ago, only to opt for one-nighters with his line of work.

But now? He wouldn’t even dream of being in anyone’s presence (and bed) other than yours. 

You may as well mistake a Cupid’s bow accidentally shooting him each time the two of you are in private; raising your hands to his lips with a warmer look in his eyes, tugging you by the hand to sit on his lap as soon as you lock his office door, personally tending to your injuries. Or if the wound needs further medical attention, he'll come to check up on you once the professionals have settled their part.

Picture this: on your day off, you and him in bed after ‘sexc time’, cuddling in bed while looking out of the gigantic hotel windows, though really, Phil’s just looking at you and how the city lights just shine on your skin. 

But back to buying you shit!

Whether you’re the kind to react to his exorbitant gifts bashfully or immediately thank him by showering his face with lipstick-stained kisses, there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t get for you. Even with a mere glance at an item as you window shop, don’t be surprised to find it under your pillow or suspiciously slipped into one of your bags at the barracks. So, the second he notices your eyes linger on something, he will buy it, with or without your knowledge. 

This is just my two cents, but most, if not, all of the blorbos I've written for have a deep passion for you in red lipstick, and Phil is no doubt a part of that list. Even if you can't wear it all the time for obvious reasons, he wants you to keep it with you at all times. 

Because there are days when the two of you can't be in the same team together, much to his dismay, say, because of speciality differences, so one of you is needed elsewhere. 

So, when one day, you surprise him with a little gift before his departure by leaving a pretty red kiss mark on a piece of card, handkerchief or even on the glass of his watch, just know it'll be an always-thing. A habit, if you will, even if you're on the same team at that moment.

Missions, too, even if he downright hates your choices. Again, your respect over his own ego. He won’t stop you, and he has no right to, but expect to be in the same regime/team as his. Should anything happen to you, and he prays to God nothing does, he’ll be the first to find you. 

When days off seem so far, though, his office is where the ✨️ magic happens ✨️. 

It’s a common meeting place for the two of you, be it for sharing food you snuck out of the kitchen or letting him take his frustrations out by smothering his face in between your luscious thighs while you lay back on his desk. His office just has more life whenever you arrive. The reports can wait, he’s (mostly) his own boss, after all. The time you both have is more precious. 

And the part about you blowing him under his desk while he’s on the phone is so real of you.

He’s able to drone out Shepherd’s voice on the other end of the call because he knows the general’s just repeating what they’ve discussed days or hours prior. Phil’s more focused on your glassy eyes, struggling to encompass his sheer girth in your pretty little mouth, all while attempting to smile behind your tears. Looking up at him as he tilts his head back onto the office chair and occasionally bucks his hips while he disguises his moans with mindless grunts as if he had been listening to Shepherd yapping in the first place.

“Mhm, right, right…” His jaw clenched, eyes lidded and a lazy smile worth making you whine around his cock as he stared down at you. His phone was pressed in between his shoulder and ear as he rested his forearm on the head of the chair. The other hand brushed your hair back, enjoying the way your cheeks became just a tad more prominent at his gentle touches.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back about it,” He wanted to roll his eyes, initially at the thought of having to face him again, only for it to drag into a groan when the tip of his touched the back of your throat. He tossed his phone as soon as the call ended, a smirk returning to his face when he could finally focus on you. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

You choked a little when he gently pushed you to take him even more.

Oh, he wanted to hear more of that sound.

“You can take more o’me, can’t ya?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Bonus:

Have you guys seen this video with the guy testing out a pink gun with a teddy bear keychain? THAT. Is most definitely the kind of gift that he’d definitely get for you at first sight. Deadass would twirl my hair if he got that for me.

I imagine that if your team learned about the pink gun (whether or not you added that Phil bought it for you), I just find it hilarious that they’d think it wouldn’t have a strong recoil since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it. And as soon as they give it a try, they just jerk back so violently, and Phil’s watching with the most infuriating smirk on his face since he’s seen you play and pose with it when you shoot, taking the drawbacks like no problem 😭😭

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[eyelessfaces]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

santiago garcia x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: dirty talk

warnings: reader wears a skirt, exhibitionism kink, public teasing, creampie

word count: 0.9k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Santiago had developed the habit of being the worst kind of tease in public. 

He knew it made you slightly embarrassed, not to the point of uncomfortability though; he would never do something that you didn’t feel comfortable with, and he knew you liked playing along, acting like it bothered you when in reality you enjoyed it.

It was rather frequent for his public teasing to resurface, especially at parties like the one you were at at the moment. 

It was Benny’s birthday, and his garden was rather crowded, including with people you weren’t familiar with. That fact didn’t particularly bother Santiago, and you both knew it. It actually excited him more to have complete strangers around, so you knew he could be insufferable, and it had already started when everyone started eating and his hand had conveniently settled at your thigh, progressively going higher up under your skirt as he acted completely oblivious and chatted with Frankie across the table.

This was step one, and the day was far from over.

Despite your best efforts to always be surrounded just so he could be annoyed by the fact he wouldn’t be able to tease you, you forgot the game for a second to take another drink in the kitchen, and Santi took advantage of that weakness. 

You hadn’t even heard him coming, you only felt his arms wrapping around you when he hugged you from the back, making you jump in surprise, your glass almost slipping from your grip.

“I can’t wait for everyone to go to sleep so I can wreck you” he whispered into your ear as he shifted his position to grind his hard on against your ass, making you bite back a moan. 

Goosebumps raised over your skin, your grip tightening over your glass. “Really, I can’t wait, maybe I could take you right here, where anyone could come and see us” he mutters as he puts his hands over the globes of your ass, kneading the tender flesh over your skirt. 

“Bet you’d love someone walking in while I pound that pretty pussy” you can hear the teasing tone and the sly smirk in his voice as he raises the piece of cloth, exposing your underwear, a small whine leaving your mouth as you feel air hitting the damp patch between your legs. “Mh?” his hand pushes onto your lower back so you could bend against the counter, and you don’t even put any force to try to stop this – objectively – unreasonable decision. 

“Tell me to stop, baby” he whispers, pressing himself over you to speak to your ear, his erection pressing even more firmly against you. You don’t say anything, because you don't want him to stop, and that’s when you hear the sound of his fly before feeling him push your underwear to the side, the feeling of his tip circling your entrance eliciting a small grunt of anticipation coming from your throat.

“Quiet” he murmurs as he gathers the wetness pooling at your folds before progressively inching himself inside you, a low groan escaping his own mouth as he bottoms out and really plunges his cock inside of you. 

Benny’s bathroom had already seen its fair share of action from the both of you, but having your way in the kitchen was a whole new experience, no lock and the possibility of everyone and anyone walking in on you at any moment.

Technically, the chances that someone would walk in on you or hear you were low. Everyone was outside, music was blasting and almost every drink was within reach; you only came to the kitchen to get a fresh glass of water.

Now you were gripping onto your filled glass, knuckles turning another color from how hard you were holding onto it while Santi was pounding into you. His rhythm was demanding, restless and a bit desperate; you feel his hands bunching up your skirt, holding onto it tight as the obvious sound of skin on skin resonates in Benny’s open kitchen. 

You have no idea what you would actually do if someone walked in while Santiago was taking you, and despite your best efforts to think of a backup plan, you give up on trying to ponder over that subject when Santi’s hand wraps around you and his fingers settle to rub rough circles over your clit.

Your body jolts at the feeling, the glass in your hand being the least of your concern at the moment; it rolls over the counter with a coarse sound as you come, its content spilling in a trail falling to the floor as you writhe under your boyfriend, drips falling beside your feet. 

His movements hasten as he helps you ride out your high, seeking his own; he presses himself flush against you, his breath halting as he pumps his seed inside you, your head falling to rest over your extended, numb arms. 

You feel him gently ease himself out of you, pull your underwear back over your sensitive cunt.

"Good girl." he smirks as he slaps your ass, smoothing the fabric of your skirt so it could look like no one had ever touched it. “My pretty little slut.” he hands you a kitchen towel, kissing your cheek before leaving, as if nothing had ever happened, like every single time.

No one would ever know what happened here, if it wasn’t for Benny’s high tech fridge having a camera.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious

+ @flightlessangelwings

[utytimeline]

I might make some people mad, but I'm gonna say it, anyway.

So, Ceroba's reason for choosing Chujin over Star was because she wanted someone more mature. At least, that's my understanding. Star was playing cowboy and role-playing with his friends while she wanted to settle down and raise a family.

And... yeah, Star had a lot of growing up to do. And he did almost none of it until Ceroba stopped him from shooting us.

Star's main character flaw is his ego, but it's even worse than just an ego. Half the reason he set up the Wild East was to help everyone else. He wanted to bring in money to help his family when the Swelterstone's effects caused a drought; he wanted monsters to get a taste of what the surface is like so they don't drown in despair; and he wanted to make Ceroba happy after she lost both her husband and her child. All of this on top of feeling like he was a "nobody farmer" that couldn't do anything or help anyone.

So Star's primary character flaw isn't as simple as just having a big ego. His primary character flaw is trying to fix others as a way of fixing himself.

Sometimes this is a good thing, tho. I often think of Star as the "papa" of the Feisty Five. He's the protective one, he's the one teaching them ethics (reminding Mooch that they're not supposed to be bandits, playing dead to teach Clover about the responsibility of potentially hurting someone), he takes care of the town, he's made ALL his own money from this town that he built himself (enough that Mooch wants his inheritance, so it's a sizeable amount), he even gave his posse a designated nap time, gave Ceroba a home (and possibly gave her his bed while he crashes on the couch), sews his own clothes, set up all the rules and regulations... and I could go on, but I think I've made my point. Star is not wholly irresponsible. He's not perfectly responsible- he, and the rest of the posse, have a habit of breaking and losing Blackjack's weapons, they're all loud and rowdy, and they have a tendency to forget to turn off their boulder machines out in the Dunes.

So, yeah, Star does still have some growing up to do. But he's got a good start.

As for... everything that went wrong... That was entirely due to Star's worship of humanity. Star fell in love with westerns and with the justice and overall sense of romance that they portrayed, so much so that he not only tried to make himself into one of his western heroes, but he then extended this worship to the first human to ever set foot in the Dunes- namely, Clover. And because of this, Star completely threw everything that was good about himself out the window. He sees a human an immediately decides "this is my deputy," without even really giving Clover a fair chance to see if they even are deputy material. He forgot the safety glasses, got so worked up he forgot how to pronounce "duel," became extremely temperamental, apparently forgot that Vengeful Virgil was scheduled for the train mission that day, locked up a Royal Guard against her will (arguably committing treason in doing so, I might add), and just generally began running over everyone's words and emotions, including Ceroba's.

So when it came down to the Showdown... Star blamed Clover. Star's not an idiot. He knows good and well it's not Clover's fault. It's Star's fault- or more precisely, it's his worship of humanity that is to blame. But the problem is, he's taken it upon himself to guard the feelings of other monsters, to make them feel hope and joy. And he just screwed up and stole all that from them. So he's conflicted, not willing to admit that he has done the exact opposite of everything he set out to do. And since it's his worship of humans that led him to this point, he decides to blame the human.

Hence, the Showdown.

But he doesn't want to do it. He says himself, "Monsterkind's Hero is a title soaked in blood." He loves humans. And he sees Clover as a friend. He doesn't want to kill them. He's not a killer, and he doesn't want to be one. He doesn't believe in it. Justice is one thing, but... how is it just to kill someone that did nothing wrong?

So. Here's where Ceroba comes in. Telling Star he needs to calm down and go back to who he used to be. And Star points out that she's changed, too. Even Ceroba says, before taking Clover to the Steamworks, that she doesn't know if she has room to tell Star to go back to the Starlo she used to know.

Ceroba, tho, is no different than Star (this is the part that I said might make some people mad). Ceroba worships Chujin just as much as Star worships humans.

Ok, look. Chujin was a great craftsman. He built so much- furniture for Dalv, his and Ceroba's house, the space heater at the Honeydew Resort, many other items in use throughout the Underground, Kanako's toys (even programmed a video game for her), and so much more. So much that even Star respects him for all that he did for everyone.

However, there is also much that indicates that Chujin wasn't the best at his job. His only award is "You Tried at Engineering," and it took 14 tries for him to build a working robot. In Chujin's defense, I will say that it is impressive that he did build a working, sentient robot without the use of a SOUL, which is how Alphys made both Mettaton and Mew Mew; however, if Chujin is really such a genius, why did it take 14 tries to get Axis to work, when it apparently only took 1 try for Guardener?

And then Chujin didn't just stop with robotics, but went on to SOUL research. Two completely different fields. (And before anyone starts commenting on Alphys, I just want to point out, yet again, that both of the robots she built did use SOUL power; so, realistically, Alphys never was a great robotics genius, but rather, everything she did was a part of SOUL research- hence, the reason Asgore hired her as the Royal Scientist). But Chujin decided to press on with his SOUL research, despite there being no indication anywhere that he had ever done any such research before.

Now, I'm not trying to say that Chujin wasn't remarkable or a genius. I'm just pointing out some things that indicate that maybe he wasn't quite the genius that Ceroba wanted to make him out to be. And... Ceroba's reaction to his "You Tried" award. She's proud of him. More pride than what is warranted by such an award.

Ceroba said she met Chujin when he pretty much rescued her after she twisted her ankle, fell into a ditch, and laid there for several hours, unable to move. She also said that she had considered dating Starlo before meeting Chujin. So... hate me for this if you want to, but I feel like she may not have the best judgement when it comes to guys. Now, that's not to say she picked losers or creeps. Both Chujin and Starlo were/are sweethearts that care deeply about everyone around them. But the fact remains that Ceroba left behind the guy that she'd known all her life for a guy she just met, just because he rescued her from a bad situation.

And I'm not even saying she made a bad choice! By all accounts- including Ceroba's, Martlet's, and even Starlo's- Chujin was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working monster, and a wonderful husband and father. But... he wasn't perfect. And I think Ceroba, even though they had to have been married at least 10 years, just always had stars in her eyes where he was concerned. He was her everything. She believed he could do no wrong. She believed it so strongly, she was willing to do... many horrible things.

Ceroba's drive to kill Clover started with her love for Chujin. She wanted to do anything to keep him alive in her own heart. And when their child begged and pleaded for a chance to help, Ceroba agreed, because Kanako woshipped her father, too. Ceroba's misguided belief in her husband guided her to do things she would never have done otherwise.

Thus the reason for her guilt. It's not just guilt over killing her own child. It's also guilt over knowing that it was her own misguided worship of a monster that wasn't as perfect as she thought he was, that this was what led her to kill, and to kill again.

Ceroba worshipped Chujin. Just as Starlo worshipped the ground Clover walked on, Ceroba worshipped the ground Chujin walked on.

So when people point to Ceroba's comment that Starlo didn't grow up... yeah. She's right. Starlo needed to grow up.

But so did Ceroba.

One of the hardest parts of growing up is realizing that the people you worship are just people. They make mistakes, and you, yourself, are mistaken for believing they can do no wrong.

So, anyway. There's as much Staroba (Starfox, I call them) hatred as there is love for the ship. I've seen both sides of the argument: Starlo isn't mature enough; Ceroba is insane. Yeah. You're both right. And that's why they're perfect for each other. They both made the mistake of changing everything they were in an effort to continue worshipping their idols. They both went nuts. They were both driven to kill. This is the inherent danger of idolatry, believing so much in something that isn't real, that you will do anything to make it stay real to you.

[phantasmiac]

dabi who has no concept of having loving sex until he meets you

tw/cw: smut (mdni), afab!reader, soft dom!dabi, mentions of bdsm, one allusion to prostitution (not reader)

wc: 0.6k

a/n: thought i’d always be too embarrassed to write anything sexually explicit and i AM 🤧

dabi who’s always gotten off to watching sadistic, hardcore bdsm porn and is completely unfamiliar with the concept of sex that means something. i know there’s a whole debate on whether or not he’s a virgin but in my head he’s had his fair share of hook ups with random people he’s met in sketchy places, maybe even coughed up some money during times he was especially horny, pent up and desperate.

and then he meets you and suddenly his dick doesn’t twitch at the sight or even the thought of his hand wrapped around your throat or his belt keeping your hands tied up behind your back? it confuses him because he knows he’s attracted to you, so why isn’t his body reacting the way it’s supposed to? you notice his dilemma, and his definition of fucking hasn’t exactly been doing it for you either. it was alright the first few times, when the sexual tension was at an all time high and you were eager to have him in any way you could; but now you just feel empty, even when he’s balls deep inside you.

he’s very hesitant when you suggest taking things at a slower, more intimate pace. stiff as a board (just not in the right area) when you take the lead at first, gently kissing down his torso and lacing your fingers through his. but then it’s his turn to be on top. “take your time”, you remind him, hands cradling his face as you guide him down your body. you take his scarred, motionless hands and cup them around your tits. and even though he’s skeptical about this whole thing, he’s willing to learn and try it out if it means getting his dick to function around you again. you nod at the confusion in his eyes that makes him look oh so innocent, encouraging him to go ahead and touch you.

he circles his thumbs around the buds, slowly. gives them gentle licks, slowly. all while keeping his eyes locked on the pretty little face that had his pants all tight before he actually got you in bed for the first time. he doesn’t know whether to blame it on the way your lips part or the broken affirmations that leave them; maybe it’s the way they’re left all red and bruised after you pull them by your teeth, or the way your eyelashes flutter all seductively to expose the hearts in your eyes when you look back at him from above. maybe it’s all of it. all of it has him more than just hard; it already has him leaking pre cum. it’s fucking embarrassing, how he’s made a mess while just mouthing at a pair of tits. but even more embarrassing is the way he ruts against the mattress at the sight of the pleasure written all over your face while he eats you out; slowly, until he can’t take it any longer and starts lapping at your cunt like a man starved.

before you, dabi had never thought to press kisses down someone’s thighs or to their clit. never cared to ask if he was making them feel good; a stark contrast to the way he demands to hear your moans and affirmations. to hear that he’s making you feel good. he could have easily fucked every person in the country without asking to see their face, but grips your chin to force you to look at him so he doesn’t miss a single one of your expressions. if there’s an after you, whether it be after a breakup or a falling out, dabi falls right back into his old habits. because dabi is a sadomasochist; he’ll treat anyone like shit and enjoy it, whether it be emotionally, physically, mentally or sexually; anyone but you.

a/n ii: i don’t think smut will become a regular thing on this blog i’ve just always had this interpretation of dabi and i had to let the world know

[nevaroonie]

Dear Treasure

A/N - this was the very first redactober fic i wrote lmfao

The prompt for this one was Part with

Deputy read by the lovely @achios

Porter x Treasure Angst

Treasure breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped inside their home. Hanging out with their friends was always a draining experience. Perhaps they shouldn't have accepted their half-assed apologies. But sometimes, they let others walk over them. It was something they were trying to grow out of, but old habits die hard. 

Slipping out of their shoes and locking the door they made their way to the kitchen. They needed something to drink. Whether it was actual alcohol or water didn’t matter. They just needed something to quench their dry throat. 

As they reached for a glass, they could feel the slender touch of someone else's hands—cold yet warm. He had a habit of doing this; just showing up, and maybe they loved that about him. It was like he was a personal comfort. 

Or at least till he leaves them for weeks at a time. Though having that conversation again would burn them out more than they already are at least. They needed relaxation; a deep sigh left their mouth as they leaned into the arms of the man they loved. 

‘’ Treasure.. Oh, how I’ve missed you. ‘’ his tone was different, he seemed.. Upset. And that troubled them. 

‘’ Porter, I have missed you as well.. Today has been long. ‘’ A small yawn ripped through them. 

‘’ Tell me all about my dearest.. ‘’ There it was, that tone again.

‘’ Porter.. What is troubling you.? ‘’ They were no longer looking to clear their thirst as they brought their hands down and turned to face their companion. They wanted to get a closer look at his face; to be able to read him. 

They wanted to figure out what was wrong with him. They’d had a long night but they could push what they needed in order to help him. 

‘’ Treasure.. I may not know you well.. But I know you well enough. ‘’ The slight change in his tone was better; similar but different. However he wasn’t wrong, after their trip to the fair. He’d grown to know them. 

However, he picked up a skill, learning how to read them. So as they stood inches away from each other's faces and the cup on the counter; hearts in sync.. He could feel Treasure's hand sliding up his arms, eventually reaching his face. Locking their eyes with his.. Their warmth felt nice and undeserved.

He grabbed their hand and placed a small kiss in the center of it, the last night they shared together would be one of fun. Just simple pleasures- he didn’t deserve any more than that. His eyes found their way back to their face. They screamed tired, yet a glimpse of hope was there. Almost as if they knew what he planned to do. His hand now finding its way to their warm skin was comforting. An experience he grew to love.. A beauty that could rival that of the divines.. 

‘’ It was just a long day. ‘’ They expressed clinging to his new embrace. 

‘’ Perhaps we should head to bed then, you can tell me all about it.’’ 

Though they wanted to help him, their body needed the rest. And this is a perfect time to practice breaking that bad habit of theirs. After all, Porter wasn’t a friend that would take advantage of their kindness. He made the effort to See Them, to know them. He made an effort that their so-called friends didn’t. 

Perhaps they’ll make the effort to better themselves. So as he took their hand to lead them to the bedroom. They went without question, they didn’t have the energy to disagree nor did they want to. 

Porter was lost in his thoughts, was coming here a bad idea? No. Leaving without a word would’ve made them feel like it was their fault. It's not anyone's fault, he knew his job was dangerous. He knew one day this day would arrive. 

The day he had to leave his Treasure. The one thing that he had left in this life. This life.. He wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Nor the familial issues it came with-

‘’ are you going to join me under the covers? ‘’ Treasure eyed the man sitting on the edge of the bed- something was bothering him. They wanted to say something else but they needed their rest. The day was long and they were drained.. They cared for the vampire but.. They couldn’t listen to anyone else today. 

‘’ yes, my dear.. I was just thinking,‘’ he said as he climbed into bed, right next to them. With some more movements and blanket readjustments. Treasure laid in porters arms. 

‘’ Now.. tell me about that day of yours. ‘’ 

___

The sun shone on Treasure's face, slowly but surely waking them up. If it was morning they didn’t expect their vampire companion to still be here. Throwing their feet on the other side of the bed and stepping off they needed to get their day started. 

A cup of coffee would help them. Or at least wake them fully up. However, a surprise they weren’t to see was a freshly brewed pot of coffee and a letter under it. The only person in their home was Porter and they doubted anyone breaking in. 

Grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet they poured some coffee into the cup and glanced at the letter… hm.. It had been addressed to them. And it was from Porter.. He was the only one who called them Treasure after all.

Why would he leave them a letter? He could have just told them whatever he needed to say. Taking in a deep sigh they grabbed the letter unfolding it in the process. Just what had Porter wanted to say? 

Dear Treasure 

If you’re reading this, I had to leave.. Not because I wanted to, but rather because my job forced me to leave. The life of Porter Solaire is not an easy one. And you were one of the only things. That truly made me remember the goods in companionship. 

When you’ve been around for as long as I have you forget things like that and you can tend to flock to one-time things. But you were different, something I couldn’t explain.. Perhaps it was the way you smiled at me. Or maybe the way you could read me.. See through the walls I had so had high up, and just knock them down. 

Treasure knowing you has been amazing. And leaving you is the last thing I wanted to do. But I have to draw the line between causing you pain or having to live with your death on my hands. I’d rather cause the pain of leaving you behind.

We may not have known each other well enough to be considered lovers.. And we may have started as a continuous fling. But I would not have wanted to call anyone else My Treasure. You dear are something special.

  Yours Truly   

 Porter Solaire

Treasure placed the letter down, their mind still reeling as they processed what just happened. They were expecting some cheesy love letter. Or an apology for disappearing for the next few days— or a month. But this? The last thing they were expecting was what could be considered a break up letter? It wasn’t an outright farewell, but the finality was there, lurking between the lines, and that stung more than they had expected.

Well they were barely a thing.. So could it be considered a break up? The uncertainty gnawed at them. This was hard and why did it hurt? It shouldn’t have, right? They barely knew the man, despite a few flings a date or two they were ultimately strangers and yet this hurts. And yet, the ache in their chest said otherwise. Maybe it wasn’t the depth of their relationship that mattered, but the way Porter had slipped past their defenses, made them feel seen in a way very few others had.

The two helped each other when they needed each other most. And now he’s gone. Perhaps they would’ve taken the risk— they weren’t done getting to know one another. And now that untold chapter will never finish.

Life was cruel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist - @dawnofiight @sunsickcrab @porters-fangs @paythesmith @achios @yournewmusictaste @ashertickler @s0lairee

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

shower, m | myg | nyangnyang au

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: It took a certain kind of person to fall in love with the same person every day. Easy, though, when your husband was Min Yoongi.

warnings: husband!Yoongi x wife!reader; shower smut (fem reader, getting each other off - handjob / fingering); domestic fluff and a hangry fluff that interrupts (nyangnyang!au)

--

You weren’t sure what it was like to love someone else.

But you knew what it was like to love Min Yoongi.

It must be different for other relationships. For one, you always showered together when you could. It was the norm rather than a special moment. Sometimes you had deep conversations about a random concept on his mind or yours. Sometimes you would end up uncontrollably laughing about the way he said something and spent the next ten minutes trying not to snort while Yoongi shook his head at you, it wasn’t that funny. Maybe it wasn’t, but it was funny to you and that was what mattered. Sometimes you didn’t say anything and he didn’t say anything. Both of you immersed in your own hygienic tasks, except when you washed his back. You were flexible enough to wash your own, but there was a time when he wasn’t able to, so now it was a habit for you to soap up his broad shoulders.

You knew what it was like to love Min Yoongi.

It was like falling in love every day.

“Stop slouching.”

“I’m not slouching.”

You punched his lower back with the sudsy bath sponge.

Yoongi stopped slouching.

You placed one hand on his shoulder and scrubbed away at your husband. The funniest thing about you and Yoongi was that you were basically the same person. In mannerisms, preferences, even outlook on people. Different talents, of course; you didn’t know jack shit about music just like Yoongi wouldn’t know how to formulate a sentence with intricate syntax to display an emotion without directly stating it. But there was something about you and him that made you feel so sure in this world of unsure. A shared, unshakable calmness that could not be disturbed by anyone on the outside.

You tapped his shoulder, indicating him to turn around.

He did, wiping the last of the cleanser off his face. Black locks swept forward and plastered to his cheeks in messy waves.

Your eyes found his.

The world a storm, and in those dark brown orbs was the calm.

You wondered if anyone else felt this.

The hot water thundered down in rivets across his fair skin, washing away the puffs of white, and Yoongi smiled at you. You smiled back, but a different kind of smile, leaning forward and circling your arms around his neck as if slow dancing. Chest to chest, faces close, almost sensual, except that you were rinsing out the bath sponge behind his head.

Your husband cocked an eyebrow.

It sounded like summer rain.

The air hot and heavy.

It took a certain kind of person to fall in love with the same person every day. The kind of person that understood themselves well and yet was always trying to find a new evolution of self. Simple but complex. Alive in dichotomy. Someone who believed the impossible was possible, ah, of course it was, because he was right in front of you. You leaned in, wet hair and skin, breath to breath. So many thoughts in this silence that later he would have to piece them together in songwriting. For now, you exhaled, slow and steady, over his lips already parting to receive.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were seducing me,” he murmured.

The corner of your lips quirked upward. “You don’t know better. You’re already within my grasp.”

There was the ghost of a laugh in his calm tone.

“Oh, no.”

You closed your eyes and you could feel his thoughts, feel them in the water and his skin under your arms, in the air between you and him. Anticipation, patience, waiting for the moment. The water that went with the flow that was your fire. He spoke to you even when he didn’t. In his songs, in his eyes, in his body, and you closed the distance, lips to lips, insistent comfort, fanning your fingers in his hair and on his back, still clutching the bath sponge, and he pressed back against you.

Breathing life into your throat.

You used to think, I can’t show when I’m weak otherwise someone will take it and use it against me, and you knew Yoongi used to think that too. I must always be strong. You both liked to say you got married for any other reason other than I love you, because I love you was too loaded of a phrase to a pair of people that didn’t really understand what it meant – until they meant each other and realized I love you meant you taught me I’ll be okay with or without you, so I’ll be with you when forever ends.

You pushed him into the wall, turning so the water was half on you and half on him. You felt Yoongi smile, and you caught his lower lip with your teeth, lightly growling in warning.

“Cold?”

“A little bit,” you mumbled, letting go and adjusting your arms, reaching over to hang the bath sponge on its hook.

“You wanna warn me next time?” he chuckled, half of his hair cascading over his face. Open-mouthed smirk and sparkling dark eyes teasing you. His fingertips ghosted your waist. “I’ll always give you anything you want.”

You returned his playful smile with added deviousness.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”

What Yoongi and you both understood way before this strange feeling called love…

Was, of course, sex.

He raised his eyebrows. You opened your mouth, slathering your palm with saliva right in front of his eyes. Tongue between fingers, a second that felt like hours, too fast and too slow at the same time, and then your hand shot down, wrapping around his half-hard cock, pinning Yoongi to the wall with your dangerous smile and devious gaze.

He gasped against your lips.

Low moan drawn out. Your hand sliding up and down, feeling him pulse under your touch. Water running down your back, steam and warm air and stolen breath and his name an additional caress, ah, Yoongi, lips to lips once more, fervent and intense. No way to describe the feeling except perfection. Trapped in lip-lock and droplets sliding between hot bodies, hand around hardness, and you felt something else, swift and sly, a deft movement snaking between your legs.

The side of your mouth retreated.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” you muttered.

“Don’t think then, my love,” was the response.

You almost moved away, but Yoongi’s free hand was suddenly cradled around your wet hair, and then it was shortened breath, fingers sliding into your slick heat, and now you were following the same rhythm. Deep, rough, fast, a contest as much as it was pleasurable, sharing tongue and breath and matching smirks, fuck, this guy really doesn’t back down, huh, but it was a fond thought, one you approved of because you didn’t know when to back down either, spreading your legs more and feeling him moan into your mouth as he thrust deeper, your pussy closing in around his fingers, squeezing tight. You had a competitive nature.

Yoongi knew that.

Thus, you were now testing to see who would cum first.

“You can’t outlast me,” you purred.

“That’s not the loss you think it is,” he hummed, one hand still in your hair and the other knuckles deep, shuddering into your touch. Fuck, he was doing that thing with his eyes again, lowering his lashes and with that glint of mischief behind wet black strands, sliding slightly on the tile to be below you. Letting you see the edge of his lower lip between his teeth along with his intense stare.

You…

Yoongi cocked his eyebrow at you again.

A muscle in your jaw twitched, involuntarily tightening at your husband’s annoying power bottom display that was doing too many things to your nether regions, including the sudden throbbing heartbeat pulsing around his thrusting fingers.

The lip bite turned into a flat-out smug smirk.

You adjusted the pace to the exact speed and pressure that would get him off, not too tight but locking your fingers to provide the consistent power, watching his eyes cloud and lashes flutter, rough groan sliding out of his lips, uncontrollable flinch rippling across his chest muscles.

“F-Fuck…”

Those dark brown orbs closing and he moaned in your face. Hips shivering, shoulders locking, his hand falling from your head and hitting the shower wall, tense fingers splayed on the tiles, and then you felt and saw the orgasm wash over his features, immediately pausing your hand.

Jerking pulse in the palm of your tight grip.

You couldn’t feel the cum due to the showering water, but you knew he had hit that high from the shuddering of his chest and his hard cock twitching, almost forgetting his fingers were in you.

Until he started moving them again.

Fast, hard, too easily from the flowing slickness seeping down your legs.

You bit back a cry and tipped your head back, shutting your eyes, burning waves flaring from your core and getting hotter, and Yoongi knew the pace, the angle, the depth, all so well, sliding another in to complete the feeling of escapable fullness. Your forearm was shaking, anchoring your free hand on the wall beside Yoongi’s head, other hand still around his cock, ghosting your caress over him, still hard so he must be looking at you. Taking in all the details of your closed eyes, wet hair stuck you’re your shoulders, rivers of water down the curves of your chest, hard nipples dripping, so close, slick and hot and his.

Yoongi whispered your name.

Smoky and sexy and wonderful.

The side of your lips quirked upwards, mirroring his familiar expression.

It all cascaded down, down, there, and you sighed out, electric bliss all over your nerves and skin, inner walls clenching around his fingers and your heard Yoongi sigh too, content and in lust, feeling your pussy squeeze and shiver around his three fingers buried all the way inside.

You closed your thighs around his hand, pressing softness around him.

“What a nice feeling,” he murmured and he wasn’t talking about his own orgasm.

“You gotta take your hand out sometime.”

“Not any time soon. It’s nice and warm in here.”

Then, both of you heard it.

“Nyaaaaow.”

You felt your eyebrow twitch.

Opened your eyes and looked back to see your husband looking at you with a narrowed gaze and an upturned mouth.

“Did you feed Nyangnyang?” you asked.

“I thought you fed her?” was the emotionless response.

“Nyaow.”

“I thought you did.”

Somecat was headbutting the bathroom door.

“Fuck. I must have forgotten to fill her bowl after washing it. I wanted to get in the shower,” Yoongi grumbled under his breath.

“Nyan.”

“Yes, Nyangnyang, I hear you,” you called back to the white fluffball behind the door with your husband’s three fingers still stuffed in your pussy as he lifted his shoulders off the shower tile. “We’ll feed you as soon as we finish up.”

“Nyan.”

“Bossy.”

“Like her dad.”

Yoongi blinked slowly, unimpressed, at your quip.

You didn’t need him to say it to know that he meant, of course, definitely, just like me. Right? Yup. After all, your husband always said that the wife was always right when she wanted to be. Heh.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[merbear25]

Been thinking a lot about Caesar...

Been thinking about how difficult it'd be to set your suspicions aside. Despite his calming and inviting demeanor, his actions deteriorate those around him—decay and peril extending out of his finger tips.

A talented mind being applied to such chaos and suffering: when paired with a wide grin, doubt in his sincerity blanketed over you. Fearing what could happen if you were caught off guard, planning precautions ensued. However, he'd be keeping an eye on you, even when you thought you were alone.

You were refraining from getting too close to him; you'd witnessed too many fall victim to having the life sucked out of them or being overly trusting, leading them to nightmarish experiments. Naivete was acting as an opiate—omitting any sense to resist, making them malleable.

Keeping track of what exactly set him off, you'd jot each one in your notebook. In doing this, you were picking up on certain habits of his, which were ones that might be seen as endearing if it were anyone else: babbling to himself if he made a careless miscalculation, how animated he'd get around certain people, and the way he threw his hair up in a huff while working.

Danger comes in all shapes and sizes, though. Unbeknownst to you, he was just as cautious of you as you were of him. Having his fair share of trust issues, he'd been keeping tabs on you since you waltzed into his life. He kept an eye on everyone, but you and your most recent behavior set off alarms.

Lurking behind each corner, staying just out of sight, so as not draw your attention to him, he observed you. Distrust made his chest heave, while watching you scribble something in your notebook. Forboding casted itself, consuming any ability for reconsideration.

Hissing from what sounded like a busted pipe caused fear to wrap around your heart, making you break out in a cold sweat. Shortly after the first signal of his presence was released, the gas clouds trailed up and over your body and dispersed around you.

Too nervous to turn around to face him, you calmly closed your notebook and waited.

"What have you been up to?"

There was no malice in his words, yet you knew better than to take him at face value. "I was just finishing up the notes from earlier. You know, before I forgot."

Locks of his hair drapped over you as he leaned in. He whispered, "How long did you think you'd be able to hide this from me?"

Attempting to suppress your rising heart rate, you assured him you'd been keeping to your work as normal.

He placed a hand down firmly on the table next to your notebook. Going wide-eyed at his sudden falter in patience, you peared down at what contained all that you'd written down on him.

"In that case, you won't mind if I take a look, will you?" His other hand snaked around from the other side.

When he threw the cover open, you shut your eyes, not being able to bear witnessing death closing in on you. After a few moments passed, you were shaking from anticipation of the punishment he'd surely cast down on you—but nothing was happening. Cautiously, you opened one eye to see which page he'd opened to: those of his personal habits, along with the little hearts doodled next to some of them were glaring back at you.

Not knowing whether you would've preferred to be slain for plotting against him or from your own humiliation, you sat where you were—staring at the pages that'd betrayed you.

Breaking the silence, he let out a chuckle, "Had no idea you were the type to get 'love sick'."

NSFW below the cut!!! fem!reader, teasing, fingering, vaginal penetration

Shell shock still effecting you, you weren't able to muster an excuse.

"Don't worry, dear. Your little secret is safe with me," he laughed a bit harder this time, the irony was too sweet not to torment you with. Calming down from that outburst, he leaned in again and brought his hands nearer to you. "That is, on one condition."

With surprise replacing your fear, you'd unfortunately allowed yourself to fall pray to his trickery just as the others had. "What is it?"

Tilting his head up to ponder, he laid his hands on your shoulders saying, "Hm, I may have a suitable solution." Offering his hand, he lured you in with a simple command, "Follow me."

Finding yourself in his bedroom made you halt in your tracks. "Did we...take a wrong turn?" Denial passed over your lips of what was about to unfold.

"Surely you can't be as naive as the others." Grinning down at you, he ran his hand over your dress, cupping your breast just before you pulled away in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you were scribbling hearts in your journal next to my name as a bluff."

While backing away, you stumbled and tripped onto the floor. Having fallen on your tailbone, you winced from the sudden pain.

Cocking his head at you, he sighed, "You may, however, be more hopeless than the others." In one swoop, he tossed you on the bed. Not having enough time to process what was happening, he took advantage of your vertigo—climbing on top of you, releasing spores of arousal with each shift he made.

Having picked up on your nerves, he started out slowly: rubbing your legs, running his hands up your dress, and circling his thumbs at the top of your pubic bone. He was observing your expressions and body language, all of which were hinting that you were getting rather excited.

Laying down next to you, he had you wrapped in his arms. Opening your legs, he ran his hand over your panties, which were already set to be rung out. Witnessing the affects he had on you, he pressed his hardening member against your leg while twirling his fingers around your clit.

This was proving to be too much for you; you were feeling overwhelmed from the rushes of lust and uncertainty towards him. "I don't know if I can do this," you breathed heavily, trying to avert your eyes, which had already begun to blur from the much awaited release you'd secretly been after.

He nuzzled against the top of your head, caressing your weeping slit. "Your body is calling out for me though. Why should it be denied what it's obviously craving?"

You bit at your bottom lip as you felt him grind up against your thigh again; your chest was falling and rising from the build up which you were hanging on by a thread.

Sensing you were cracking, the drive to push you past your limits took over; he forced your delicates to the side, partcially exposing your needy pussy. Sliding his fingers inbetween your slick lips, he grinned at the sight of you: clinging to the sheets, already thrusting against him; you were still trying to resist, although your will-power was hurridly reaching its breaking point.

Watching you deperately chase after your repressed lust, he ripped the top of your dress down, revealing your breasts. Greedily grabbing and clenching them, care was especially given to your erect nipples. You whimpered as he pinched them, testing how easy it'd be to make you crumble from ecstasy.

Rutting against his stiffened length, your hand latched onto his hip to steady yourself. Paying no mind to how he'd been watching you, you failed to notice his dark fantasies coming forth.

Him abruptly tugging your panties off made you gasp―the material left behind red spots from the sudden force. Your shrieks only added to your delectable vulnerability.

After seeing him chuck them off to the side, you felt his bare cock proding you. Pressing against your thigh, the motions from him preparing himself jolted across your lower half.

He forced your legs further apart; a faint whimper came from him when he realized your lower half had been coated in your disgraceful abandonment of morals.

After taking a minute to admire the view, he promptly thrusted inside you. Knowing it'd cause some pain, the sadist in him still yearned to see you squirm. The initial twinge of discomfort wore off, now just fragments scattered amongst your spasming walls.

You both new you wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. Settling on twirling your pearl against the pad of his finger, he allowed himself the pleasure of watching your breasts chaotically bounce and slap against each other.

Your self-control was failing you: slipping away with each thrust he rammed between your creamy lips. Your breath was shaking as your vision speckled. Feeling you unravel on him unexpectedly forced his own willpower to collapse―joining you in your rapturing frenzy.

As he eased out of you, you let the cum spill out; watching it drip down, you kept the tingles of bliss prickling at the sight of it a secret from him.

You looked over at him to catch a devilish look appear on his face. Forgetting what'd gotten you into this predicament, you casually asked what that look was for.

"Hm? Just thinking about the next secret you'll try to hide from me. You're constantly scribbling in that damn thing, so there should be plenty to blackmail you with."

Your cheeks reddened when thinking back to the incriminating ideas you had. When you shrank away from him, he alluded to his hunches, "This will surely make for a good compromise."

[alavestineneas]

Together

pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader

summary: Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

warnings: mentions of suicide attempt, typical hunger games violence

''I think I'll retire quite sooner than I intended with that girl,'' Blight announced, flopping down on the sofa with a distinct sound.

Haymitch chuckled at the man's visible misery, passing him a glass from the nearest tray. ''Is she back at it again?''

Blight nodded in defeat. ''I tried to be understanding, you know, with all of that happening to her family, but my nose is bleeding for the second time this week.''

Haymitch mastered a sympathetic face.  "I've met a lot of monsters, but teenage girls are by far the worst beasts.''

Y/N rolled her eyes at them. ''I'll talk to her.''

Blight looked at her as if she had three heads. "There is no point unless you want a black eye instead of that makeup.''

''Well, I am also a teenage girl, which is what you are so afraid of,'' Y/N said as she stood up from the couch and straightened her dress. ''If I am not back after half an hour, call security.''

''Or doctors,'' muttered Blight under his breath.

"Or doctors." Y/N shrugged.

To be fair, Y/N was quite intrigued by Johanna Mason, the most recent victor. Cunning, quick, and violent—this is what the media tried to portray her as. Y/N knew better than to trust their vision—after all, according to them, she herself was the Capitol's darling, bathing in love and fame for the past two years.

Judging from the sound, somebody was moving furniture in the room. Y/N knocked, more out of habit than from need. The doors in the Capitol are never fully locked—another illusion for a fake sense of privacy.

"I said go fuck yourself, or did I completely knock out your brain?'' a girl's voice responded from within.

Y/N chuckled. "Is this how you talk to your elders?"

The pacing around the room stopped.

''Who are you?'' the Mason girl asked, obviously surprised.

"You'll find out when you open this door—not the best way to start a friendly conversation, is it?"

The loud thuds continued as if nothing had happened.

Y/N sighed. Why can't things be easy for once? She pressed the hidden silver button, and the door unlocked.

A girl with black hair looked at her with wide eyes. She was standing on the chair, holding a piece of rope.

''Hanging? Very original, I'll give you that.''

''What do you want?'' the girl grumbled, undoubtedly dissatisfied with the failed attempt.

''I want you to come down and get dressed,'' Y/N answered, glancing at the undone bed and shattered glass everywhere. ''As simple as that.''

''No.'' The girl looked determined, still standing on the chair. ''I am not going to another idiotic party with those fuckers.''

''Really? I hope you believe in ghosts, because you'll be dead tomorrow morning.''

''I don't care. I don't want to live anyway.''

''Has anyone ever told you that you are such an egocentric bitch?'' Y/N asked, leaning against the wall. She surely got Mason's attention with that—the girl looked at her, insulted.

''Excuse me?''

''You should've just died in that arena and given somebody a chance to live. Take my tribute, Elly. Do you know how much she wanted to survive? Why steal her chance if you'll waste yours anyway?''

"My entire family is gone, and you want me to smile for the cameras?"

"You are correct; they would have been overjoyed to learn that you honored them by killing yourself over a damn party."

The girl stared at Y/N, debating whether she should listen, before getting off the chair with a slight thud.

''I'm Johanna.'', she mumbled.

Y/N grinned.  "Nice to meet you, Johanna. Now let's show these bastards who they are messing with.''  

-

Y/N writes to her almost every week. Johanna has learned the schedule by now - she writes on Saturdays, and on Thursdays, a white envelope is sitting on the porch. She complains about life in District 8, the horrendous dresses she got as presents for her birthday, or how her make-up team appeared to lose their taste after changing the designer.

Johanna never answers. She tells herself it is for the best—she can't get attached to anybody. Mason keeps all the letters neatly stocked in the first drawer of the closet. She won't admit it, but she rereads them every evening. Then, it's easy to pretend they are just two ordinary 17-year-olds.

She doesn't allow herself to answer. Not until Y/N mentions that she is back at the Capitol. Johanna knows what it means—while her friend got to keep her family, it cost her a lot. Only then, she takes a pen and sits at the table, scribbling a response.

It looks messy—nothing like the nicely curved letters Y/N has. She rewrote half of a paper five times. Johanna shoves it into the envelope and sends it off before she can change her mind. She can't help but smile when she gets an answer. Y/N doodled a funny figure, suspiciously similar to Johanna's, covered in spikes. Mason gets the message—she will write more often.

-

Johanna mentors for the first time; her tributes are both alive, which has been rare for so long in the Games. The mentors' lounge is not as crowded as it was in the morning; most of the past victors take turns monitoring the arena. The quiet chatter is the only sound besides the screen. They talk about a dinner tomorrow, a new escort, stylists—anything but the Games.

Y/N is also here - the boy from District 8 is still hiding. They both know the game makers won't allow it for too long. Y/N anxiously fidgets with the rings on her hands, staring at the void. Johanna guesses they are never getting used to it—even older mentors are visibly uneasy, almost too drunk to walk a straight line.

A scream draws her attention back to the screen. A massive, tiger-like creature charged at the boy Y/N mentors. He tries to fight it off with the nearest stick, screaming in horror as the animal opens its mouth and takes a bite of his leg, tearing it off.

Johanna's head flies at Y/N; she is already watching, lips pursed into a white line. More screams ring in the now silent room, along with sounds of growls and what Johanna believes to be the sound of tearing flesh. Finally, the screaming stops; the camera changes to Career's pack.

The mentors try to hide their gaze from the Y/N's figure as she stands up from the couch and leaves the room, her steps echoing in the hallway.

The District Two mentor pours himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one go; most mentors follow him, and the conversation completely vanishes.

Johanna tries to recollect herself, adjusting the hem of her shirt. The boy's blood-stained face still runs through her mind, so she doesn't notice a figure behind her until somebody places a hand on her shoulder.

''Go talk to her. I'll watch.''

It's a blonde woman from District One - Cashmere or Gloss, Johanna was not sure. She wants to argue but quickly changes her mind. The woman obviously means no harm. So, Johanna nods.

She finds Y/N easily - she is in the training room, sparring with animated figures with a spear. Johanna recalls Y/N telling her that the only reason she chose spears was because they resembled the sticks she used to practice with at District 8. Mason thinks she was joking - her friend was hitting every target with ease right now.

Johanna sits down beside the girl on the burnished metal floor. She was never good with words; it was Y/N who always seemed to know what to say.

''I'm sorry.''

''He was very happy to eat ice cream, you know?'' Y/N says, her voice faint.

"It was his wish?"

Y/N nods. ''It makes them feel better, I think. Hell, it makes me feel better about sending them to their deaths—to know I did something good for those kids.'' She looks down at her hands, her lips trembling. ''He was a nice kid and died such a horrible death, Jo, such a terrible, cruel death.''

Y/N's voice breaks.

She leans into Johanna's embrace, and Mason almost instinctively wraps her hands around her friend's shaking shoulders. It was the first time she saw Y/N like this. Without a mask Capitol made her wear, without the walls she built around herself. Just Y/N.

''We are going to be alright,'' Johanna says.

She hopes her words sound convincing. Of course, they're a lie - nothing is ever okay in this messed-up world. They both know this, but Y/N still whispers a small thank you.

Johanna's heart aches, and a familiar warm sensation spreads through her chest. She resists the urge to wipe the tears off her friend's face. They are friends, and Johanna is happy with that. It is still a lot more than she deserves.

-

Today is Y/N's birthday, and the Capitol is throwing a big party for "the favorite." Johanna doesn't ask why she has this title. Of course, they adore her - Y/N won the Games when she was fifteen. She grew up in front of the camera, and, what is more flawed, she grew up with people behind it.

It is easily seen when Y/N's face changes each time she walks on the stage. Her warm eyes transform into big doe eyes, and a picture-perfect smile appears. She is a perfect actress, quick to come up with a witty remark or play into the naïve girl they view her as.

She won the Games that way; Johanna has to remind herself. Y/N got a 3 as a training score, possessing almost none of the fighting skills. She did, however, know what the Capitol wanted: someone charming, attractive, and willing to put on a show. That and the desert arena got her where she is now.

The perfect victor now lays on the floor next to Johanna, her head on Mason's lap. They are both twenty-one now, not that their age ever stopped them from stealing the alcohol. The party is tomorrow, and Snow wants to put on a show. For now, they can live.

''Jo, can I tell you something? But you must promise not to be angry.''

Mason responds with a hum; she enjoys hearing her rash ideas. The braid she is making out of Y/N's hair is coming out not like she intended, and Johanna huffs in annoyance. ''Just spill it, would you?''

Y/N's face becomes serious. ''I think I am in love with you. And to be fair, it scares the shit out of me.''

The world stops for a second. Johanna thinks she did not hear it right, but there is no other way to understand this. She feels her heartbeat in her ears, loud enough to cover any other noise.

''Well. Yell, scream, or say something. Anything.'' Y/N sits up, a half-finished braid falling undone.

''We can't,'' Johanna says nervously, licking her lips.

''So, you feel this way too?''

"No, that is not the point. We can't do this.''

''Why?'' Y/N takes her hand in hers. ''They'll have to allow it. We can even be a secret if you want to. We'll figure it out, I promise.''

''No.'' Johanna shakes her head. ''You know what happens to the people I love, Y/N. One wrong step, and you will be dead. I can't do this, not again.''

Y/N pauses. "I think you are just afraid to be happy."

"No," Johanna whispers, "I'm afraid of losing you."

Y/N blinks, fighting the tears gathering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Johanna was faster.

''I'll go. It's late.'' If she stays any longer, she might lose it.

The door behind her closes with a loud bang. The realization comes suddenly - she lost the only person who loved her. Johanna lets out a few choked sobs, sliding against the nearest wall in a small, empty hall. The worst part is that she loved her too.

-

Johanna is mad—furious even. The Capitol already did everything in its power to break her, yet here she is, going back into the arena. Her reaping wasn't that much of a surprise; she is the only female victor in District 7. Johanna is convinced every name drawn wasn't random—a brother and sister from District One, Finnick and his sweetheart Annie, Y/N.

They meet in the bathroom before the interviews, of all places. Y/N is attempting to remove the mascara from her eyelid, and Johanna is trying hard not to laugh - if only the cameras saw her like this, she would undoubtedly win over all of the sponsors. No other victor radiated as much anger and determination as she does now.

''Stop laughing and come help me,'' Y/N grumbles.

Johanna grins. ''I wasn't laughing.''

''Yeah, whatever.'' Y/N watches as Johanna picks up a napkin and dips its end in the water.

''Close your eyes.''

Y/N does what she is told, the corners of her lips twitching. ''Yes, ma'am.'' She earns a slap on the hand from Johanna. ''Ouch! What was that for?"

"Not everything has to be a sex joke, you know?"

''Well, where is the fun in that?" Y/N opens her eyes. Johanna's face is inches away from hers. ''Jo...''

''Shut up," she mumbles, covering the girl's lips with hers.

Y/N throws her arms around her, pressing Johanna's body as close as humanly possible. The kiss is hard. Griping. Almost painful. It's like they can't get enough of each other. But Johanna wouldn't want it any other way.

Y/N pulls away first, watching Johanna take a few rushed breaths in. ''I thought we couldn't do it,'' she jokes.

Mason rolls her eyes.  "I liked your mouth closed better."

Y/N's face turns serious, her playful expression vanishing. ''Regarding that. Give them hell. For me.''

Johanna nods. ''I promise.''

-

It wasn't supposed to be easy, and Johanna is reminded of that by stupid birds; while she pities Finnick and Katniss, she is also jealous - they still have someone to care for. Mason doesn't know if Y/N is still alive - the last time she saw her was at the Bloodbath. She can't swim.

''They won't touch Prim!''

Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

''Your fiancé's right. The whole country loves your sister. Forget the districts; there will be riots in the Capitol if they torture or harm her.'' Johanna turns to the cameras and yells. ''Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we set your backyard on fire? You know you can't put everybody in here!''

She feels the stares of her alliance on her, but frankly, she does not care anymore. ''What? He can't hurt me. There's no one left that I love.''

Finnick glances at her, eyebrows raised. He knows. Y/N was his friend too.

-

Johanna tries to meet her fate with anger at first. It served her well throughout her life, as she dealt with every adversity with sarcasm and insults. Mason maintains her arrogance, refusing to allow them to hear her screams or begs. Johanna refused to be turned into entertainment, even after losing. She didn't cry when they cut her hair or beat her. She told herself, "The help is near.''

It provoked them more. The torture becomes more violent day by day until Johanna is exhausted. She has endured it for weeks, and help still hasn't come. She just wants to slump in her chains and silently take it.

The breadboy's cells are next to hers; she hears his screams more than she does her own. Johanna wasn't sure how much time had passed until she heard another familiar cry.

It's Y/N. Mason can swear on the remains of her sanity that it was her voice. She was alive. It takes Johanna everything not to show how much those shouts affected her—it could mean more torture for the District 8 victor.

Johanna now awoke from Y/N's screams and drifted into unconsciousness with them, as if by clockwork. The torture was sometimes worse than electricity. Her biggest fear came true—she sacrificed their happiness for nothing.

Mason is drawn away from her thoughts by another couple of screams. The sound of water pouring fills her ears - it's all happening again.

-

Johanna finds herself even more isolated when they are finally rescued. In a sense, they were in this together in the Capitol; she could at least hear other people, even if it was just screams. Johanna was now completely alone; whereas Peeta had Katniss and Annie had Finnick, Johanna had no one to look out for her. Johanna doesn't want to fight anymore. She is tired. There is a void in her soul, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

The doctors here tell her it's okay not to feel understood, but Johanna knows old Y/N would. She always somehow did. Mason wonders why everyone in her life despises her - what has she done to deserve this? Why do others have someone to return to, someone in their right mind? Why couldn't it be them?

Y/N was still under the constant attention of the doctors. They meet twice a week under strict supervision. Y/N listens to Johanna attentively each time, but something about her gaze feels odd. She can't place it - Y/N is distant and quiet, but that's unusual. Mason tells herself that it was the outcome of the torture they had to survive and that she'll get better with time. It's not her Y/N, but Johanna can't be the one speaking. The Capitol changed them both.

It finally clicks for Johanna when she hears that doctors found a knife in Y/N's room. A knife that she intended to use. It was the absence of hope in her eyes that felt unusual; before, it was always there.

''You are such a hypocrite, you know that?" Johanna tells her. They are in a hospital ward. Y/N's face is tear-stained, and yet, she doesn't answer. ''Remember what you told me the first time we met? That you have to live for those who can't?''

Johanna is angry. She is furious, both with Y/N and with herself, as well as with everyone in this dreadful building. Why can't they understand?

''Well, maybe I lied.'' Y/N's voice is hoarse. It was the first time she had spoken since their rescue. ''There is no point in living anymore, Jo. There always was none.'' She shifts on her bed, looking up at Johanna. ''It never gets better. So it's fairer if we end it now and save ourselves a lot of suffering. ''

''No.'' Johanna's hands are in fists, and she comes closer to the woman in front of her. ''You are not fucking allowed to decide that, not when I spent all those days staying alive and sane for you. Do you hear me? Not for me, for you! I woke up and listened to your screams. I thought about you before I fell asleep because I knew we would get a chance to finally have a normal life when this was over. And now you're saying there's no point?''

Y/N's lower lip trembles, with glimmery tears running down her sunken cheeks. ''I'm sorry.''

Johanna sighs and settles in next to her. ''Look, I can't promise anything. I don't know if it will ever be okay. But we can try.''

Y/N looks at her, and her eyes are finally warm again. ''Together?'' she asks.

Johanna feels the knots in her chest loosening for the first time in a while. ''Together.'', she nods.

[sserpente]

A/N: I know there’s been so much Billy lately. I’m so obsessed with him though, it’s crazy, haha! Have fun!

Words: 1403 Warnings: mentions of racism

The local fun fair was a highlight of Hawkins’ boring small-town life, you had learned this much when Steve had called and asked you to join him, Nancy and the kids for a fun evening out.

You were having the full experience—silly music blaring from speakers high up on the lampposts, candy floss, roasted almonds, rigged games and fun rides… it was a lovely break from all the work you had been doing the past couple of weeks. Building a career in a small town wasn’t all too easy, after all.

Everyone here was lovely all the time. Well, maybe except…

“Having fun, Maxine?” Speak of the devil.

Max froze. As if someone had flipped a switch, her confident and careless demeanour was gone and she transformed into a little girl terrified of her step-brother. You narrowed your eyes at Billy.

He leaned against the lamppost as if he had all the time in the world, muscles bulging. His friends loomed around him like little minions.

“I’m not late…” Max claimed. “You said nine p.m.”

“For once you’re not, shitbird. I’m early. What? Can’t I enjoy myself too?”

Billy’s eyes locked with yours. You’d moved here shortly after Billy and Max themselves had and needless to say, Billy had not been happy to find out you were immune to his charms. Truth be told, you were just really good at hiding it.

You were not dumb—you knew he knew exactly what to tell women to lure them in, how to behave and what to do. You’d watched him once. He had the skill to talk about sex without talking about sex and it had gotten you riled up enough for you to race home, lock yourself in and masturbate for the rest of the afternoon.

Billy Hargrove would remain just that for you—a fantasy, for you were certain that becoming another notch in his belt would only lead to heartbreak and a bad reputation. You didn’t just spread your legs for anyone. The guy had to earn it, properly.

Until then, you would—much to the others’ dismay—remain friends. You’d been in school together, after all, and you made a habit of getting along with people. What had really fused you together though was when you had witnessed Billy getting punched square across the face by his own dad. You’d known that there was more to his arrogant and entitled demeanour than he let on.

Behind you, Lucas shifted on the spot. None of them had forgotten the undoubtedly racist comments Billy had made, not to mention this one time he almost beat him up had Steve not interfered.

“Come on, man, just leave them be. I can take her home too later,” Steve said just at that moment. Billy scoffed.

“You’re not taking her home, that little shit is my responsibility. Don’t be late,” he added, turning to Max who only nodded without another word. You thought the situation was successfully averted but Billy had other plans, for when you started strolling through the stalls, he and his friends followed right after, always a little too close for their liking. Lucas was, understandably, the most nervous. You sighed. You’d put an end to this. Last time, when Steve fended him off, it didn’t end well. Time to take action.

You walked over to him, watching with reluctant attraction how he lit himself a cigarette and eyed you up and down like prey as you approached him at the basketball stall. Before you could even say a word, he spoke up.

“Why are you hanging out with these losers?” Your name left his lips almost seductively.

You tilted your head at him—slowly, to give him a chance to take that back even though you were certain he wouldn’t.

“What are you doing, Billy?”

“What am I doing? I’m having fun. You should try it sometime,” he said, feigning innocence.

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him to greet him properly. He reciprocated it more heartily than you would have expected and held you close just for a second too long.

“You could give Max a break though, you know. Let her have fun for one evening as well. Why are you following her around now?”

“Because whether she likes it or not, we’re family now and I have to look out for her, alright?”

You sighed. “Did your dad tell you to…?”

Billy glared at you and you shut your mouth. “I told you to stay out of this.”

“Guys? Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll stick with Billy for a while.” You could tell they all disapproved, Steve the most. They clearly weren’t fond of the idea of you being friends with Billy. And sometimes, you weren’t either. He was like a ticking time bomb, always on the verge of lashing out. He was dangerous—and that made him even sexier.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“I won’t kidnap her, King Steve, don’t worry,” Billy mocked. Steve rolled his eyes, gave you one last nod and off they went. You could practically feel Lucas’ relief. You still had a lot of work to do when it came to convincing Billy that disliking someone because of their skin colour was fundamentally wrong but you were making progress—slow progress.

“What do you say, boys? All five wins the big prize,” the stall owner announced with a sly grin, pointing at the massive plush toys hanging from hooks on the wooden ceiling of the stand. Given that the metal circles the basketballs here were supposed to be tossed through were rotating, it seemed highly unlikely anyone had managed to win before. You weren’t surprised. Most of the games here were rigged.

“That’s it?” Billy asked, unimpressed. The stall owner blinked all the while Billy pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill from his jeans pocket and practically slammed it on the counter before grabbing the first basketball.

“Which one do you want?”

Your eyes widened. “What, me?”

“Yes, you, doll. What use do I have for a giant bear?”

You pressed your lips together to a thin line, suppressing the comment dancing on the tip of your tongue. Billy gave you a taunting look. “Don’t you dare make a stupid remark.”

“Aw, why not, they’re so fun!”

He purred your name darkly and almost… threateningly. Something inside you stirred and clenched. It almost felt like it was travelling right between your legs. Damn him.

“The black one,” you said then, pointing at a dark bear with white eyes. Billy followed your gaze, finished his cigarette and got to work. He scored one basket, two baskets, three baskets… his friends kept cheering him on.

You weren’t surprised—he’d had a basketball scholarship before moving to Hawkins, after all. He was skilled… and he was not too humble to show it.

Four baskets… five. The stall owner started clapping. “You actually did it, young man! The black one, yes?”

You grinned from ear to ear when he handed it to you and Billy nodded triumphantly.

“Let’s go, guys. I need a beer…” Billy’s friends cheered once more and yet, Billy did not move an inch. His blue eyes locked with yours and for just a split second, you felt yourself unable to move as he approached and leaned down to you seductively.

“Do I get something in return for your new friend?” he asked. His hand sneaked around your waist, pulling you close as you finally started walking, a few feet behind his bickering friends. The massive teddy bear almost covered you whole.

You smiled up at him, shaking your head slightly before standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Billy. See, you can be sweet after all.”

And if you could be certain he wasn’t just trying to woo you…

Billy snorted, smiling mischievously. “And what do I need to do to earn a proper kiss?”

You glanced up at the Ferris Wheel—he followed your gaze, then looked you in the eyes again, smirking.

“Let’s go then.”

“What about your beer?”

Billy paused for a moment, pretending to ponder with his index finger tapping against his chin. “Hmm… an overpriced beer at the fun fair or a kiss from a beautiful girl… that’s a hard decision to make.”

“You’re so cocksure, aren’t you?”

“But it’s working.”

You sighed. Yeah. Unfortunately, it was.

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[melthehoneybee]

A God’s Best Friend

First of all, I’m not a writer so be kind 🥲

I decided to finally write a Hades fanfic based on a little story I’ve had in my head for years now.

This is a Hades x Reader fic centered around an adult aged reader who works in an Auradon animal shelter when the God of Death walks in looking for a new pal.

This is completely SFW and has no warnings. I hope you guys like it! I may continue it in the future depending on if it’s well received. Enjoy!!!

Another night stuck alone at the shelter, counting away the minutes while listening to the chatter of all the rescues in the back of the building.

Of course you loved helping the stray animals of Auradon, but this place is not your passion.

Your parents were just one of the many royals with a whirlwind, magical romance back in their younger days. Your father was a dashing prince and your mother was a lonely princess who animals flocked to when she sang. Once the king founded Auradon they gave up their titles to help the animals without homes find a place of comfort, adopting them out to loving families. Eventually you came along and they forced you in to the dream they had created, letting you work in the shelter once you were old enough. The years have flown by and, despite being a full grown adult, you are still stuck here’s

All was quiet, peaceful, and fully predictable.

Until the barrier dropped.

Most of the kingdom were on board with the decision made by Queen Mal and King Ben. The children over on that island deserved a fair chance at life, despite the decisions their parents made. It was an event that carried plenty of promise, but it wasn’t without its hitches.

Of course most of the Isle children needed to adjust to their new normal, but they had the youth of Auradon to help them. The problem were the adults on both sides. Plenty of villains were set free and all of the adults of Auradon still held on to their fears and anxieties of the past.

Your parents are no different. They are able to accept some of the villains have changed during their imprisonment without magic on that rotten spit of land. However, they were still plenty wary of the handful of the more powerful antagonists, none more so than Cruella De Vil.

It goes without saying, but running an animal shelter with that mad villain on the loose caused your parents to increase the scrutiny of the process of adopting pets.

Before the barrier dropped, they would allow most anyone to adopt simply by paying a small fee and signing a couple of papers. Now they demand to verify the person has no connection to Cruella and they require an inspection of the home the animal will be going to both before adoption and a couple of weeks after adoption.

So far, there have been no issues with the process. There was an influx of adoptions now that the people of the Isle could own pets, most seeking a fresh start with a new companion. All of the homes you and your parents have inspected were suitable to take care of whatever they may be adopting and there have been zero signs of Cruella intending on starting up her fur habits again.

You liked to think her kid Carlos maybe got through to her with his love of animals.

After a couple months of the barrier being down, the rush of adoptions began to slow and life returned to a steady pace of one or two adoptions a week.

The seasons were changing and the days were getting shorter, meaning you would be put in charge of the closing shifts. You often locked up and left well after the sun went down. Very few, if any, customers show up when night arrives. However your parents insist that at least one of the family members are present as often as possible to keep the animals company.

You sigh, tapping your pen on the desk and resting your head in your hand in boredom. Your mind drifted to your own dreams, wishing you weren’t tethered to this place and hoping to have a taste of freedom to explore your passions in the future.

Instead here you are, the clock loudly ticking away the minutes, broken up by the bark or meow of a rescue in the large kennel room behind you.

It’s been days since the last adoption, only a few people coming in to visit the animals and look around to break up the monotony.

You glance up at the frosted glass doors of the entrance to see a tall figure silhouetted in the glass. You sit up and put on your best “I’m ready to help” pose.

The silhouette reached for the handle and popped open the door, the bell attached to it tinkling with a friendly chime. In walks Hades, the villainous god of the Underworld.

Your smile immediately fades and becomes forced to avoid showing fear, looking closer to a grimace.

Sure you’ve helped plenty of VKs but this is the first VILLAIN to walk in to this building.

First he glances up at the tiny bell signaling his arrival then looks around, clearly uncomfortable with the bright surroundings. Finally he locks his eyes with yours. Your heart skips a beat and adrenaline causes a dull roar in your ears, flooding your face with a slight shade of red.

“Is this the place to get a dog?” He asks, his voice firm.

You sit there a moment, your mouth open in slight surprise and your brain trying to process how to handle this. You’re here alone and no one would be close enough to get to the shelter in time if you called for help.

He stands there, his hands finally softly shrugging out in confusion at the lack of answer.

You finally stutter out “A-ah yes this is the local animal rescue.”

He steps forward, his heavy boots sounding extremely alien to your ears “Ok, and you have dogs?”

All you can think to do is follow the script you had been taught to go through “If you’re looking for a dog, we are required to ask if you have or will have any connection to the villain known as Cruella De Vil.”

Your heart is pounding and you shrink a bit when he curls a lip up and narrows his dark eyes.

“Do you Auradonians just think all villains know each other or something? No, I don’t associate with Dog-Nappers.” He growls, rolling his eyes.

Your face turns red in embarrassment “S-sorry I just… it’s something we ask everyone now…”

An awkward silence fills the air and you can’t believe you break it with the question of “What sort of dog are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet, I used to have one before the barrier and now I’m looking for a new one.” He says with an air of exasperation, looking around the friendly lobby area.

“We… don’t have any with three heads if that’s what you’re looking for.” Comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. You scream inside your mind, wondering why you keep making presumptuous statements to the literal god of death.

He raises a brow in confusion “I didn’t say I was in the market for one of those did I?” He pauses and shifts a bit “So you already know who I am then?”

All you can do is feebly nod.

He sighs and puts his hands in his pockets “So I take it I’m not welcome then. Fine.” He spins on his heel and steps for the door.

You aren’t sure if it’s shame, embarrassment, or something else entirely, but you launch up from your chair and call after him.

“No no, wait… s-sorry… you are welcome to look at our dogs if you’d like. Everyone is welcome here.”

He turns and glances back “Everyone except Cruella.” He says sarcastically.

“W-well yeah… everyone but her for obvious reasons… we don’t want to risk the safety of our animals.”

He turns and crosses his arms “You don’t see me as a threat to your animals then?”

“So far so good.” You say nervously.

He accepts this answer and walks back to the desk, resting his leather clad hand on it.

“Alright, show me the dogs then.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming not to go further into the shelter with this intimidating figure, but your instincts of doing your job have kicked in and seem to be carrying you along on autopilot.

“Of course, right this way.”

You push open the small door to the side of your desk so he can walk around and join you. You sort of awkwardly shuffle backwards to the door that leads to the kennels, not particularly comfortable with turning your back to this man yet.

“Listen I’ve got basically 20 years of catching up to do on my work. I’m not going to add more to my plate by sending you to the Underworld. Especially when I don’t know you.” He sighs, clearly annoyed at the guard you have up.

You stammer a shaky apology and open the door for him.

“It’s alright. I get it.” He says, a bit less anger in his voice. He walks past, the smell of leather and some sort of cologne following behind him. You look him up and down, your eyes particularly interested in his tall, blue hair. You had always heard Hades had a head of hair made of fire. It certainly seemed to reach skyward in a wavy stance like flames, but it seemed like entirely normal hair to you.

You follow in behind him, the kennels suddenly eerily quiet. All of the animals have stopped chattering and are now pushed to the backs of their kennels, clearly terrified of the dark figure before them.

He stays silent, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes flicker a brief emotion. Disappointment maybe?

He slowly walks down the line of kennels, glancing back and forth at all of the animals who cowered away from him. They all clearly sensed that he was an ancient soul with the task of manning a place like the underworld. You always knew animals had a weird sense when it came to this stuff, but to see it so clearly in action made you shiver.

Despite how this should reaffirm some sort of discomfort with him, watching his reaction actually lowered your walls a bit. The man seemed to sink lower into himself, clearly hurt by the fear of all the animals.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea….” He finally sighs, stopping in the middle of the kennels.

You look around, silent and feeling a strange sense of pity for the villain.

Suddenly you’re hit with an epiphany. Your instincts kick in again.

“No hold on. Follow me down this way.” You stride forward with focus now, not fearing putting this man behind you.

You hear his heavy steps follow you as you lead him to the back of long line of cowering animals.

It’s a long shot but you have to test it.

Finally the last kennel lies in front of you and, to your elation, the dog within stands happily looking up at the two of you. The dog is a sort of dark grey-brown, scraggly patches of wiry hair poking out on top of his head down his spine, looking like some sort of excuse for fur. His mouth is open in a friendly grin, its long spotty tongue hanging out of the side. His tail is wagging and he watches you eagerly, eyes looking between you and Hades.

“What the heck is this…?” Hades asks with a tone of disgust.

“This is a Xolo Dog. The only one we have ever rescued actually. They’re kind of rare around here.” I say proudly and look back. He is clearly unconvinced.

“He doesn’t seem to have the same instincts as every other animal here. Is he… I dunno… broken?” He asks, unconvinced that this dog was even a dog.

“It was a theory, but I thought maybe he would be the best option for you. I guess there’s an ancient legend that these dogs were guides for souls in the afterlife. Given that, I thought maybe… he would be… comfortable…” you trail off nervously.

Hades is silent for a moment and he finally steps forward, towering over the dog behind the metal gate.

“What’s his story?”

“His dad was a dog named Dante. I guess when the litter of puppies was born, this one here was kind of the outcast. The other two puppies of the litter were a bit stronger than him. The family that owned Dante thought he might have better chances elsewhere. He’s been here a while… unfortunately, since they aren’t the prettiest dogs to look at, they aren’t exactly sought after.” I explain, crouching down and sticking my fingers through the kennel to let the dog lick them.

“Outcast huh…?” Hades asks, his tone shifting.

I reach up and open the gate, so there isn’t a barrier between the two. The dog happily steps up to Hades and looks up expectantly.

Hades crouches down and looks him in the eye. Rather than shrink in fear, the dog jumps up slightly to lick his face.

Hades flashes an expression of disgust but you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the animal.

“Ah… not a OFFICIAL one but… we um-” You pause, feeling a wave of embarrassment “we sort of took to calling him Cerb. Short for Cerberus, given the whole afterlife story. I totally understand if you’d prefer something else given the history.”

Hades snorts a scoff “Cerb? Really?”

The dog’s eyes light up and he jumps softly at Hades again, bumping his head against his chest.

Hades rests a hand on Cerb and thinks to himself for a moment.

He finally softly speaks “Well hi there Cerb.”

You smile to yourself, a sudden warm feeling flooding your chest. Just like you had seen a million times with other customers, you were seeing this dark, leather clad villain connect with their new friend.

You let them have a few moments and step back. Hades begins petting and looking over Cerb while Cerb happily pants away, his eyes staring off into space.

You kind of snort to yourself “I won’t lie, his dad wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb and it’s rubbed off on Cerb. He’s got a lot of heart though and you’ll never find a more loyal friend.”

“How does this all work?” Hades finally asks, standing up and facing you. Cerb steps up and leans against his legs, grinning up at Hades.

“Adoption? Well we get donations here so we don’t charge any fees. You just sign a few papers and you have to agree for us to do an inspection of your home at the time of adoption and a little bit after, to make sure the animal is comfortable.” You explain.

He raises an eyebrow and his expression sours “Really….? Is that the normal process or the villain treatment?”

You raise your hands in defense “I promise it’s the normal process now. We want to make sure the animals are just as happy with their owners as the owners are with them. It’s all about making sure they’re where they need to be.”

He sighs and taps his foot, thinking for a moment. He glances down at Cerb who looks back excitedly. Hades then locks eyes with you. It’s the first time you’re really looking him in the eyes since he arrived and you feel a momentarily rush of adrenaline. His icy blue stare analyzes you and his eyelids squint subtly.

“You’d do the inspection?” He asks.

“Myself or another staff member.” You answer, the idea hitting you that you’d be going to his lair when you’ve never left Auradon before.

He thinks for another moment “I want it to be you, since you know him so well.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but before you can think about it too much you nod in agreement.

He smirks a bit and looks down at Cerb “What do you think? You ready to go home?”

Cerb, who clearly has no idea what’s going on but who’s happy to be included in the conversation, wags his tail fervently.

“So, you’d like to adopt him?” You ask, a smile breaking out over your face. Despite the situation, you still feel a rush of satisfaction when you pair an owner with their new friend.

“Someone’s gotta take him.” Hades says with a shrug. He’s clearly covering up the fact he truly did bond with the dog on some level.

“Fantastic! Let me get him a leash and we will get the paperwork finalized.” You say excitedly, heading back to the front desk with Hades and Cerb following behind.

It only takes a few minutes and one flourished signature on the adoption certificate to officially hand Hades the leash for Cerb.

“Congratulations on your new friend, Hades.” You say with sincerity.

He smiles down at the dog and looks back up at you “So… this is the part where you come see my digs and try to see if I’m unfit for the task huh?”

Your heart suddenly stops and you feel a chill. Sure you’d brought it up several times and agreed to be the one to inspect his place, but now that the time had come it made you freeze.

He smirks when he sees the obvious hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back in Auradon safe and sound before you know it. I have no plans to do dastardly things… at least not tonight.” He says cooly.

“Alright … let me grab the keys and lock up.” You say, watching Cerb for any sign of discomfort or unease. You trusted the dog to protect you if Hades DID try anything.

Hades leads you to the door and holds it open for you, an unexpected gesture from someone like him. You feel a blush crawl up your cheeks for some unknown reason.

You jingle the lock closed and stare into the shelter for a moment, as if taking in the sight for the last time.

“Ready? It’s a bit of a walk. Unless you want me to magic us there.” He says raising his palm, blue flames erupting from it.

You jump a bit at the small roar the fire makes and you shake your head “N-no… walking is fine. Cerb needs it.”

Hades shrugs and gestures his hand to dismiss the fire “Suit yourself, Princess.”

You awkwardly begin the walk, feeling extremely small and fragile next to the stomping frame of this god. You know that, if he wanted to, he could just make that fire come back and poof you out of existence in the blink of an eye. You were no stranger to magic, given where you’re from. However, dark magic was an all new thing to witness.

You glance down at Cerb who is happily trotting next to Hades, leaning over to bump onto the side of his legs every once in a while. You smile and look up at Hades again, who’s staring straight ahead calmly.

Maybe he’s more like Cerb than you initially thought. A being that is easy to judge based on looks, but is just like everyone else deep down.

He looks over at you while you stare “Something up, Princess?”

You blush and quickly avert your gaze “S-sorry, I’m just-“ you pause for a moment and quietly continue “I’m not used to seeing someone who looks like you.”

He chuckles “Someone who looks like me? You mean devilishly handsome right?”

You feel another wave of heat rise in your cheeks and you stammer as you try to dismiss his comment “I-I mean someone who dresses like some sort of rock star I guess.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen Princess, the world is much bigger than the kingdom of Auradon. There are lots of different ways of doing things. This is just how I like doing it.”

You nod and timidly speak up “I just haven’t ever really been outside of Auradon. The barrier dropping is such a big change. I barely remember the world before it went up.”

“It’s been a change for all of us.” He replies solemnly.

You arrive at the bridge connecting the mainland to the former Isle of the Lost.

“You still have your place over there?” You ask.

“Yeah well… you get used to a place when you’ve been banished there for 20ish years. I’ve spruced it up with my magic and it works for what I need.” He responds, beginning to lead the way over.

As you walk, you take note of the way the permanent gloom that was once clouding the island has dissipated. You’ve never been this close to the island before and you stay keenly alert to your surroundings as you step on its land.

Compared to Auradon, it’s a vibrant mishmash of color, spray paint, and patches of junk holding it all together. It has a sort of charm to it. It’s a place a child would love to freely explore, if the island hadn’t been a prison for so many years.

You look around in wonder but catch Hades subtly grimacing.

“It’s not as fancy as you’re used to, I’m sure.” He says, almost apologetically.

“I mean it’s not what I’m used to but… I dunno… I like it. It feels very free over here.” You say, seeing troupes of VKs sitting around lazily and chatting.

Hades snorts a laugh “Free huh? Not the word I would use to describe it.”

You realize what you said and frantically apologize “No I mean… sorry…. I meant it seems like you can be yourself over here. Auradon has a lot of-” you pause to find the right word “-expectations when you’re there.”

Hades nods and smirks “You’re a prisoner of rules and societal pressures there. Trust me, I remember.” He looks around “We may be a part of Auradon now but I think this island will stay sort of separated in that sense. You’d be hard pressed to find a villain or VK who would want to give up EVERYTHING this Isle once stood for.”

You look around as you listen. You can’t help but wonder what your life would’ve been like if you had lived here all that time. Would you still be following your parent’s plan or would you be following your true passions?

As you navigate through a tiny marketplace, you look in awe at all the little items and trinkets for sale. Small Knick Knacks made from junk litter tables and shelves. You see a few of the younger crowd from Auradon browsing the shops mixed in with the VKs. It’s fascinating to see how quickly some people have adapted to the barrier coming down.

No matter if it’s a VK or an Auradonian, the site of Hades tromping down the walkway makes everyone move to the side and dart their eyes to look at anything but him. You somehow feel incredibly small and yet hugely noticeable walking alongside him. A few people whispered to each other once you got past, surely speculating what you’re doing with the God of the Underworld.

“Don’t mind them. Reputation goes a long way on the Isle. Most people know to stay out of my way.” Hades says, waving his hand dismissively.

This should justify your apprehension of accompanying him, but you find yourself wondering if he still lives up to his reputation at all. So far, the god has seemed almost tame.

As you walk along, looking at all the shops, you slow your pace to admire a rack of sheer scarfs. Each one has a unique pattern on the fabric and is obviously only meant to only act as a visual enhancer, rather than keep the wearer warm. You have never seen fabric like this before, it’s obvious each one is hand made and no two are alike.

“Bet you don’t have anything like this over on the mainland.” Hades remarks, looking back to see why your pace slowed.

You shake your head “Not really. Everything here is so unique… all the stuff in Auradon is usually pretty similar to each other, outside of the dresses Evie makes of course.”

Hades looks a moment between you and the scarfs, he finally pulls a bluish one off the rack and flicks a coin to the eager vendor.

“Here. This one suites you.”

You feel a slight head rush from the unexpected move, your hands grasping the gift before you can truly process it.

“A-are you sure…?” You ask.

He waves his hand again and turns to continue walking “Yeah yeah. It’s repayment for the long walk.”

You smile to yourself and drape the fabric around your neck, admiring the colors and patterns.

“I have one from them myself. I like their stuff.” Hades states. “We aren’t far from home now. The entrance is just up ahead.”

The two of you round a corner and your met with a large, sinister looking gate decorated with scrap pieced together to spell “GET LOST”. Behind the barrier is the entrance to a cave. You look at Hades, feeling that twinge of apprehension come back.

He chuckles to himself and unlocks the gate “It’s all for intimidation. Don’t worry.”

Cerb happily bounds inside the cave which is the biggest factor that pushes you forward.

“It echos a bit in here, just a heads up.” He warns, leading the way inside.

You wind through dark tunnels, illuminated by scattered lighting strung together up on the walls. The ground where you walk has a small track system, indicating this used to be some sort of mine before Hades settled in.

“Nearly there, I promise.” He says almost apologetically.

At long last you enter the main chamber of his lair. It’s a large room where the floor rises and lowers at random places in separate tiers. The place is decorated with everything from old looking Greek statues to vintage music equipment. The walls are scribbled with various designs and writing, one notable wall clearly being a tally of his time trapped here. The sheer number of tally marks puts into scope just how long the barrier was up.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before, things seem to be covered in a layer of dust and an eerie blue light glows throughout the room. In one corner is an old dusty sofa, in another is a large bed covered with tattered blankets.

“I know it’s not pretty to look at but… I am sort of used to it here.” He shrugs, taking off his large overcoat and tossing it on a coat rack absentmindedly.

You look around in awe, somehow fascinated with the lair. However you’re here to do a job and you carefully watch Cerb.

He already eagerly navigating around the room and sniffing at his new surroundings. He hasn’t seemed to have lost any sort of enthusiasm.

“It seems safe enough in here for him but-“ you pause and feel your heart race a bit, scared to offer any sort of critique.

“But what?” Hades asks, leaning against the wall and crossing his large, freshly exposed arms.

“Dogs need to go outside often. There isn’t really-“ you trail off feebly.

“Don’t worry. I already thought of that. Look over here.” Hades beckons.

You follow up to a large door with a doggy door carved out of the middle covered by a flap.

“Open it.” He says.

You reach forward and push against the heavy door, suddenly daylight spills in to the room. A beautiful grassy meadow greets you, a slight breeze tickling your cheeks and birds tweeting away. The faint smell of the ocean radiates through the air and you look at Hades in shock.

“I thought we were in a cave!”

He smirks, clearly impressed with himself “We are. As a god one of my powers is to make myself present wherever I wish. I put a spell on this door to open up here.”

Cerb bolts passed us and zoomies his way through the grass. This place is even nicer than the field you have for the rescues back home. You step out into the grass, feeling a nice warm sunlight hit your skin. Cerb is now on his back and thrashing around happily, clearly enjoying the way the grass feels on his skin.

“Not bad for a dusty old villain huh?” Hades asks, joining up next to you.

“It’s beautiful…. I’ve never seen magic like this before.” You respond, looking back at the door.

In the middle of the field is the doorway, inside is clearly the lair, but nothing appears to be holding the doorway in place.

“Thanks… there is an invisible barrier around the area that will influence anyone outside of it to stay away and for Cerb not to wander too far. I just have to teach him to use the door is all.”

You nod, clearly satisfied with the surroundings.

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to see. I assume you have food and water for him?” You ask, signing off the paperwork you brought while you all walk back into the cave.

Hades snaps his finger, a flash of blue sparks erupting from them, and a bag of dog food and water dish appear in the corner of the room.

You smile widely and hand over the adoption papers “Alright then, Hades. You’re officially Cerb’s owner. We will check back in about a month or so from now just to make sure he’s settled in and you’re used to his personality.”

“We? Or will the inspector be you?” He asks, looking over the papers.

You feel your heart skip a beat “D-Do you want it to be me?”

“Yes.” He answers firmly.

“I-I can make sure that’s notated for you. Um, can I ask why?” You can’t help but probe as to why he’s so specific to get you to help.

“You actually helped me. Sure you judged what I looked like right off the bat but… you changed your mind. It’s refreshing.” He says, crouching down to scratch Cerb’s head.

“Well you seem… nice.” You say softly.

Hades laughs and straightens back up, crossing his arms “Is that what I seem like? I guess I need to work on fixing that”. He winks at you with a cheeky smirk.

You laugh nervously “As long as Cerb’s safe and happy I suppose I don’t mind what you do.”

You look around the lair again and bring your gaze back to Hades, whose eyes are locked on to you.

“If you need anything make sure to reach out. I guess I should get back home, it’s probably super late.” You say, preparing to turn around and go back the way you came.

Hades steps forward a bit “Wait-“ he seems to stammer while finding his words “ah, are you hungry?”

You furrow your brow in confusion “Am I hungry?”

Hades nods, clearly angry with himself for blurting out such a random question.

“I mean it’s late and I haven’t eaten for a while, so I’m getting there. Why?”

“I just was about to cook something up if you wanted.” He says, scratching the back of his head.

If it wasn’t his treatment of Cerb or when he bought you the scarf, it would be this moment that fully convinced you this man was no longer the villain everyone made him out to be.

“Sure I could eat.” You finally answer with a smile.

[sparklingcid3r]

do u have any hc abt bob and soda? like how darry and paul were a soc and greaser who became peril but then soda and bob r a soc and greaser who defs became each others biggest opps? esp bc cherrycola is fs canon so like idk

flying off the seat of my ass cheeks with this one i’ve literally never thought much abt soda and bob but w that scope on cherrycola i’m locked in

basing it off the good ending where everyone lives hooray

- bob and soda both had a crush on cherry, but whatever cherry felt for soda was puppy dog love, just a fun fantasy bc she knows her rep could not survive being with a greaser

- and she genuinely does love bob, like he can be impulsive and outspoken but she fell in love with his spontaneous lifts to school and taking her on surprise dates and sticking up for her loudly when another guy hits on her/makes her uncomfortable

- once she has that convo w pony tho and starts really learning about how the greasers live and things like how seriously they take their honor code and fair fights, and once bob starts with his jealous streak combined w his drinking habits, the love starts to wear down

- meanwhile she’s seen soda and steve at the drive-in, goofing off and having a hoot

- she never wanted to admit it bc she was in a relationship w bob, but once he stopped showing up with sandy it was a weight off her chest. she immediately freaked abt it

- both breakups happen pretty close to each other, but they don’t actually talk until cherry goes to the drive-in w just marcia and soda builds up the nerve to talk to her

- it starts innocent, he’s asking her what happened with bob and she tells him. he’s genuinely sorry to hear it, and their mutual heartbreak bonds them, but they’re both too much of a romantic to actually rebound off each other, so they just stay friends

- but yk the feelings start to grow the more often they see each other. cherry’s not quite over her fear of becoming a social pariah for hanging out with greasers, but she’s rllyyyy into soda, and yk that drop out status is kinda….😏

- this is the only time being a dropout elevates anyone’s game yall don’t try it at home🙏

- it’s literally not until at least a year after both their respective breakups that soda asks her out and she says yes everyone cheered!!

- not bob tho

- blud was pissed the entireee time, soda was public enemy #1

- not that he could really do anything about it, he loved cherry more than he hated soda and was smart enough to know that okay, cherry likes this guy so if i jump him it’ll def get back to her and she’ll hate me forever fml

- idk anything else, in my head they end up boxing eventually and all i’m thinking abt is that scene in dirty dancing btwn johnny castle and baby’s sister’s bag where johnny whoops his ass and then hugs baby while she’s standing on the porch so his head is against her stomach and ughhh i love dirty dancing sm comfort movie fr

that’s all i got sorry i def did not color inside the lines w this one😭🙏

[phantasmiafxndom]

Hello! I really love your writing! Since the kny requests are open, can I request Kny Pet AU hcs for Hantengu's clones (the main 4) ? It's up to you if you want to add nsfw stuff, i don't mind🌸

I've been issued a challenge, I see. XD I really didn't care about these guys until I started really thinking about their characters, but now I'm getting kind of invested...

(Shout-out to @krystalwithakay, who helped with this one~)

. . .

General/Group

• In this setting, the four of them are more like brothers than clones; at the very least, the "original" isn't around anymore. They were too much for their original owner to handle, so they wound up locked away in an overcrowded cage and left to fight over whatever minimal scraps of food and care they received. This did not do their mental states any good— before long, they devolved into constant squabbling and competition, to the point where restraints quickly become necessary to prevent further harm.

• By now, all four of them are half-feral and extremely difficult to handle. Nearly impossible to get close to, they're dangerously aggressive with humans, other demons, and each other; and being kept constantly starved, restrained, and agitated has done absolutely nothing to help that. The concept of a better life is always out of reach, leaving all of them hopeless and miserable.

Sekido

• He's been used in fights before (as one attempt at finding some use for him), and the results are messy. Without enough food and rest to heal properly, Sekido's body is covered in scars and old, poorly healed injuries. The extensive damage results in near-constant pain— and always feeling hurt and threatened only makes him more aggressive. He lashes out like a cornered animal, responding violently to everything because he can only anticipate more pain. A lot of his outward anger is a defensive mechanism.

• All of that rage usually hurts him more than anyone else. Sekido is so tense that it becomes an extra strain on his body; he struggles until he's worn down what little spare energy he had, to begin with, and his unfortunate habit of fighting restraints until he messes up his body too badly to keep going is responsible for a fair amount of his scars. And yet, there's no making himself stop. He's reactive to the point of being unable to control it anymore.

Karaku

• He's been used for sex before, with a very specific condition to keep him from mauling anyone who tries. Karaku has an odd, unintentional reaction to any kind of physical pleasure— his brain all but shuts off completely, leaving him pliant and non-aggressive until the response wears off. Thus, if he's drugged or handled just enough to make him shut down, he's plenty easy to use. The brief respite from misery, even if it means being put through such unpleasant handling, is too much of a temptation for him to care.

• It's easy for him to grow addicted to anything that makes him feel good, even if the aftermath is worse. Karaku has some highly escapist tendencies, where if he gets any chance to stop thinking and feel something other than pain, he gets desperate for it. He knows by now that most humans won't ever offer that sort of thing, though, and is every bit as aggressive and volatile as the other three until some possibility of pleasure arises.

Aizetsu

• In a constant state of misery, he's reached a point of barely being able to do more than lie around and wait for someone to finally decide he's better off dead. By now, Aizetsu doesn't have any hope left for himself (or any of the rest of them), and his naturally pessimistic nature doesn't help that. Crying himself sick only adds to how awful he feels— and he's most often too caught up in his negativity to respond to much of anything. He's the only one who (mostly) stays out of the four's constant fights.

• Aizetsu is prone to semi-accidental self-harm; tearing gashes in his skin from clawing at himself in distress, biting and chewing his fingers until they bleed, and making himself physically ill from sheer stress. However, he's also unconsciously drawn to self-comforting behaviors in any form that he can get. He lacks enough appetite or will to live to make himself fight for whatever scraps they're all given, so his body is weak and wasted away.

Urogi

• He's way too high-strung for his own good, and far too easily overexcited. Urogi is the one who keeps getting his hopes up over every little sign that anything good might happen... and suffering all the more for it when those hopes are inevitably crushed. He's always agitated and fidgety, and tends to pull at his restraints well past the point of blood just because he can't stay still. Thanks to his utter lack of volume control, he's often kept in a sound-triggered shock collar just so he'll be less of an annoyance.

• Urogi's wings were once cut off as a way of trying to make him easier to contain. They grew back soon enough, but his poor living conditions meant that the regrowth didn't happen how it should. He's incapable of flight in his current state, with near-constant pain from the poorly healed limbs. They only become more unbearably uncomfortable when the feathers molt, which is a process awful enough to put even him in a miserable mood.