#now i feel guilty and rotten

[carrotpiss]

An attempt to get some thoughts feelings out of my system re the failed date

[ilokilok]

Working bad but no working also bad, brain is just scrambled eggs

[evanpetersmybf]

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 3,172

Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.

A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.

He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.

He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.

Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.

He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.

“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”

“Huh, excuse me?”

“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.

You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.

“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”

He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.

“Have you listened to Nirvana?”

“Just like… Two songs?”

“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

“Guilty.”

Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?

After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.

For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.

“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.

Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.

After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.

In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.

“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.

He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.

“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”

“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”

‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.

Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.

That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.

“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”

Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.

“I’m sorry, what did you?—”

“Did you like the song?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”

He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.

The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.

With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.

He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.

Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.

Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.

The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.

He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.

Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.

That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.

One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.

“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.

“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,

You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”

Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.

“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.

“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”

“No.”

“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.

Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.

His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.

His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.

“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Hahah, you funny.”

He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.

“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”

“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.

“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”

This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.

Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.

After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.

His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.

The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.

He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.

“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.

Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”

“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.

Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.

“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.

This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.

Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.

He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.

“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.

His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.

Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.

Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.

She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.

You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.

Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.

He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.

He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.

The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.

His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.

Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.

He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.

“Tate, I feel like I’m—”

“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.

All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.

“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”

You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”

Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.

“Y/N…?”

“Mh, what is it, Tate?”

“I love you… Please be mine?”

[snoopcco]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

제이크 , false image.

>_< mai’s endless fluff saga

⊹ ࣪ ˖ popular!jake x quiet awkward! reader. ! 💻

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🗒️ when reader meets popular jock jake who seems mean and unreachable, turns out to be a fluffy, obsessed, baby girl boyfriend. !

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ✩ jake occasionally calls reader ‘glasses’ (because reader is a slight nerd. 🤓☝️)

JAKE WAS DEFINITELY THE POPULAR GUY. known by everyone in their school, “sim jaehyun” this! “jake” that! the whole school knew jake, he was a jock, an amazing athlete, a smart student.

but that all changed once jake met her.

a recap of their love story? happy to tell you.

she was in the library, studying for the maths test, jake was roaming around. finding some peace and quiet in the library, that was his escape. his escape to just feel a bit free and more calm. at that moment, she dropped her wallet trying to reach for her pen, not even noticing that it fell over the table that only she had occupied.

with jakes fast reactions, he quickly noticed the wallet silently thudding on the carpeted, calling towards him.

he thought the girl had heard it, but to his luck, it seemed as if she was wearing headphones that were on 100% volume. jake couldn’t just leave the library all guilty for not telling some stranger that their wallet tipped over and was left on the ground, right?

so, he made his way slowly to the busy girl. picking up the wallet that was a few inches away from her chair, not trying to disturb her. the wallet landed on her desk, as she suddenly looked up.

jake took a slight glance at the studying girl, she had a high pony tail and clear specs that made her features pop out. she had doe eyes that her glasses couldn’t even hide from others even if you were far away.

he gulped, realizing that it was the ‘nerd’ in the school. but to him, he know found out when you looked at her longer, she was beautiful. she wasn’t ugly, but she seemed gorgeous to his eyes at first sight.

“your.. uhm.. wallet fell. I wanted to help you cause you seemed like you didn’t hear it.” his hand landed on the back of his neck, specifically, his nape. but to the girls eyes, he was the popular jock that couldn’t be seen with a person like her.

however, his tone. his soft voice, it made the mean and arrogant remarks of the jock disappear. “thank you, jake.” she bowed practically 90° from her seat, still stunned that jake initiated a conversation with her.

“may I sit here?” jake asked to bring up a question, wanting to have a small (a long conversation that could last for hours at a time) chat with the awkward student.

“oh um sure!”

(border >_<)

jake and the girl bickered and talked for a longer time period that they both wouldn’t had expected. they found out how similar they were despite their differences, leaving the girl who had been looked as the nerd, the girl who was an outcast.

and from that moment on, jake knew that the girl he had met was the one who had to be his.

“baby no! I have to go!” the girl whined, the clingy and pouty jake who didn’t want to let go of her waist that fit perfectly with his veiny hands. he tugged onto the front of her shirt, trying to lower the crop top.

“you can’t leave your boyfriend hanging all alone, glasses, and why should I let you leave in that short ass crop top? when I’m NOT even there.” jake frowned, but she was fed up. or she would be late.

“seriously jake! I need to leave right now.”

“no, glasses, your mine”

it drove crazy at how much jake knew her weaknesses, his cute tone, his eyes, his ability to make her feel butterflies in her stomach. It made her weak.

“glasses, stay, stay with your boyfriend. It would be better than any other shit you have to do, because your boyfriend can spoil you rotten.” jake kissed her on the cheek, still desperate for her to stay.

“no.”

jake soon grabbed her legs and put her over his shoulder, walking away from the door and back inside. “boy! jake! put me down right now!”

“don’t want to.” jake chuckled, all giddy. he loved making his girlfriend all mad and heated up, it made it more fun to tease her endlessly. is this what you get for having a boyfriend who is a serious athlete?

she thought, having a boyfriend like jake, he wouldn’t have any time for her. he would be a booked and busy guy who wouldn’t have time for her. LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. jake went out of his way to cancel his matches if it was date night, or you wanted to hang out with him.

he made sure to always had time with you, he would rather save you then the world.

“I’m gonna kiss your face a billion times and maybe we could go already and do some of the annoying shit you need to do, hm?”

“JAKE!”

“no. it’s baby time, your mine now glasses!” jake smiled evilly, not planning to let her leave. not even in a billion years.

“this is what you get for having a jock boyfriend with a false image.”

@ jwnstars … !! so cutesie core.

OK HSHSSGGS LETS CALM DOWN AFTER THAT MUCH FLUFF ???!!!?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 finally got out of my writing slump and gave into writing again. like a breath of fresh air.

anyway… I don’t know how people overlook jake as the mean frat boy ??? I see him more as the clingy bestfriend of the frat boy who always follows him around ‘cuz they besties !!!!🥹🥹💞💞🎀🎀

[ervotica]

bartyyyy 33. hushed conversation in-between kisses in the hallway or something as reader tries to calm him down and stop him from murdering a fellow student for looking at her/saying something to her lols. maybe she fails and he still gets a little murdery

thanks for requesting my love! ✩ 600 words

You know Barty can rarely deny you anything.

Not when you coo in that honeyed voice, slipping an arm beneath his rumpled shirt to palm at his bare skin. Murmuring reassurances against his lips, smoothing out his jagged edges with sweetened promises.

You have Barty against the wall in the corridor as you nose at his cheek. You thread your fingers through the short hairs at his nape and scratch, your grin imprinting against the side of his face when he sags against you. The anger melts from his expression like softened butter.

He tips his head back against the wall and it thumps; to entice him closer, your lips push out into a pout you know he won't be able to resist kissing.

One kiss, two, three.

You pull back until your lips are just grazing his, and wedge your shoulder under his armpit, an arm slung lazily round his back. You start to murmur against his mouth.

"Ignore him, baby. You know I only want you."

McLaggen's been harassing you for a date for weeks. It's been harmless for the most part, but you know Barty, and you know he won't think twice before kicking the fucker's teeth out.

"That's not what I'm fucked off about, treasure," he says, smoothing a hand over the crown of your skull.

He gets you by the scruff of the neck, anchoring you back for another open mouthed kiss. You push closer and hum your appreciation. Your fingers splay wide at the dip of his spine, tickling until he squirms under your touch and drops his head to the crook of your shoulder.

You feel McLaggen's furious stare but pay it no mind, too busy doting on your lovely boyfriend to care who's watching. You don't so much as glance away until he knocks his elbow with yours as he breezes past with a faux arrogance you know is all for show.

"Fuck off, McLaggen," you spit, pushing further against Barty. You feel your boyfriend lunge outwards before you're pushing him back and putting yourself in front of him as a shield.

"Treasure, I love you more than life itself, but move," Barty hisses. You sigh.

"Please don't."

He smears a kiss over the top of your head in apology before you're being moved by means of those thick fingers round your waist, lifted until you're thrust against one poor, unsuspecting Regulus Black. You let out a terse breath, steadying yourself against Regulus' shoulder with a splayed hand.

"Sorry, darling," you mumble.

"You alright?"

You nod before your eyes snap to Barty once more. He has McLaggen by the collar, thick fingers squeezing his cheeks in an effort to force eye contact as he bellows down at the boy, loud enough to hurt your ears.

"You touch my girl again and I'll break your fucking jaw, you hear me? You so much as look at her and you're dead."

His eyes are wild and you know his pulse is thrumming something rotten now he's geared up for a fight.

"Barty!" you scold.

Regulus hooks an arm around your waist to keep you from darting off through the crowd that's formed. You harrumph in protest.

"Okay, you're done," you declare, dragging Regulus by the wrist through the crowd with you as McLaggen sags and collapses rather unceremoniously at Barty's feet.

Barty's features morph from triumphant to guilty in an instant. He simpers, eyes scrunching at the corners until his crows feet crinkle. You snort and turn to face him.

"You're lucky I love you."

His eyes blow wide and he looks utterly lovesick. Beautiful, albeit mildly pathetic.

His expression flares with a possessiveness you know all too well. He drags you up his chest for a searing kiss that makes your insides flip-flop. You're breathing hard when he pulls away, slick with spit and beaming like a madman.

"Come on, killer," you snort. "Let's go to your dorm."

[zvdvdlvr]

— Revenge Sex

🏵️ — synopsis. James cheated. Remus is pissed off with some of James’s recent decisions. To get back at James (and because he likes you), Remus has sex with you.

🏵️ — warnings. Badly written smut. Weird plot. Pet names (pretty girl, darling). James is an absolute douche in this.

🏵️ — author’s note. I AM DOGSHIT AT WRITING SMUT. Wrote this on a whim. God bless. Hope this is okay.

   It had been twelve days since you last saw James with his lips locked to some Huffleslut.

   Twelve days of incessant badgering, pleading, apologies, and words words words. All in-person, all irritating.

   Of course, today was no different. It had started with James ambushed you by slinging his arm over your shoulder when you stepped out of your house entrance. You shoved him away and kept walking with your friends to the Great Hall.

   “Y/n! Wait up!” James called. You groaned in annoyance and walked faster with determination. He was the one that cheated! Why did he continue to follow you around?

   His hand closed on your shoulder and he bent over to catch his breath. “Y/n, please just listen to what I have to say-“

   You whipped around, anger evident in your eyes. “No, James Fleamont Potter. You listen to me. You cheated, not me. Clearly I wasn’t a good girlfriend and wanted to throw away a relationship for someone who just wanted to sleep with the popular guy. I don’t care. And before you start that ‘Oh! But y/n, I love you!’” You upped the pitch of your voice and brought your hands up. “That’s obviously a lie. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have even considered looking at that no-good, yellow-wearing, dirty rotten Hufflepuff slut! So just leave me the fuck alone!” You took a step back, pleasantly surprised when James didn’t move. “Thank you.”

   You felt bad for not feeling guilty, but… you didn’t cheat. He did.

— 🏵️

   “Hi. Don’t get up. Please.”

   You looked up. In front of you stood the infamous Remus Lupin. Confusion painted your face: what on Earth could he possibly want? “I… okay? What do you want?”

   Remus sighed and scratched his head. His face screwed up in pain from reach up for his head. You knew why. After two and a half years of dating someone, you get to know their friends well. Honestly, Remus was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had. You both got along well and he wasn’t two faced. “This is gonna sound really weird, but… I want to get back at James.”

   You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth and nodded. Pulling it back with a ‘click’, you tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this, Remus? I want nothing to do with him.”

   “That’s the thing,” Remus went on. “He’s been a real prick lately to everyone and has been lashing out. Saying things, doing things. I’m tired of it, Sirius is tired of it- Merlin, Peter barely talks to us anymore since James… y’know…”

   “So… you want me to…?”

   “Sleep with me.”

   Your mouth dropped open. Your face went slack and you stared at the man in front of you. There wasn’t anything that would make you not want to sleep with him. He was actually extremely good looking. Girls complained abut the scars, but you thought they suited him, made him stand out, and give him that ‘don’t mess with me’ energy. “Uh.” Blubbering like an idiot in front of James’s hot friend wasn’t a very comforting thought.

   “You can say no. I understand why you wouldn’t,” Remus shrugged. “I wanted to really lay it on him and stuff but if you don’t want-“

   “Fuck yes,” your muttered. “Sure. Anything. I don’t care.”

   Swallowing, Remus examined you closely. “Really? I don’t want you to feel pressure or anything.”

   “Remus, I want to. Now that you mention it, I kinda want to get some revenge on Potter,” you trailed off. “What better revenge then with his best looking mate?”

   Remus scoffed. “‘Best looking’ is far fetched, but I’ll take it. When do you want to…?”

   “Does now work?”

   A small laugh escaped Remus’s laugh at your coy expression. Your head was tilted dangerously and the corner of your lip was raised just so. Remus would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of you in un-platonic ways while you were dating James, but wouldn’t dare saying anything. Now that James went and fucked up, what better way to get James back and indulge himself in you then now? “My dorm or yours?”

   You accepted Remus’s outstretched hand and stepped closer to him. Hand pressing into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Might not make it to a dorm,” you mused, letting your hand trail down. “Mine. Girls like to gossip. Guarantee that Potter’ll hear the news before you even finish.”

   Remus’s jaw twitched at your touch, feeling his muscles flutter under your hand. “Lead the way,” he rasped, hand wrapping around yours.

—🏵️

   Remus barely had time to close the door before you pulled his face down to yours, capturing his lips with yours. You scrambled to unbutton his trousers as he fumbled to undo your bra clasp. When both items were gone and your shirts were shed, Remus picked you up and let your hands grab his face as he made his way to the delightfully large bed. Perks of being a prefect, apparently.

   You yelped when Remus dropped you on the bed. He turned his attention to your pants, pulling them off and tossing them away. He smiled at the wet patch on your cotton underwear. “Who turned you on that much, y/n?”

   “You, you fucker,” you replied snarkily.

   Remus’s brows quirked. “I am a fucker, aren’t I? ‘M gonna be fuckin’ a girl this pretty. Not something I’m embarrassed about,” he said. You would have replied if he hadn’t dropped to his knees and pulled you towards the edge of the bed like a feather. Remus rubbed a thumb from the top of your clothed cunt to the end of the stain of arousal in your underwear. You twitched. “Like that, pretty girl?”

   “I was promised a fuck, Remus Lupin,” you complained, failing to hide the breathlessly and need in your voice. You can’t remember the last time James did more than buty his dick in you for more than three minutes.

   Remus pressed featherlight kisses to the cloth covering your soaked cunt. “Don’t get snippy. You’ll get what you were promised,” he grumbled.

   You ground your molars together to avoid sqealing when Remus pried away your underwear and drove his tongue into your pussy. With nothing but the bed to grasp, you threaded your hands into Remus’s hair. He groaned at the feeling and sent leg twitching vibrations through you. “Fuck Remus,” you spat.

   The dickhead just hummed. He moved his hands so you were pressed down by his left arm. Remus’s right pointer finger came to tease the entrance of your pussy, his tongue tracing your clit. As anticipated, you jerked at the stimulation. Remus watched you body shudder as he slipped his finger inside you, taking care to memorize how you looked from this angle. His finger curled and you jerked, a ragged moan drawn from your lips.

   Remus fingered you good, you thought through a clouded mind. His fingers where long enough to find where you needed him without much time, and he seemed more than ready to give you what you needed. 

   “So good, Remus,” you moaned out, back arching into his mouth. “Fuck! Right there Rem, please,” you pleaded mindlessly, eyes screwed shut. Remus slipped a second finger into you, chuckling lowly at your breathless gasp.

   It wasn’t long before you came on Remus’s face. Your cunt fluttered around Remus’s fingers and your hands gripped his hair hard. You came with a loud moan that sounded better than Remus imagined. Your voice trailed off and your breath hitched as Remus let you ride out your orgasm, drinking everything you gave him.

   When you laid slack on the bed, Remus pulled his fingers out of you with a lewd squelch. He licked them while you watched his lust filled eyes take in your naked form. “You taste amazing,” Remus said, pulling his cum soaked boxers off of his throbbing boner. “Can’t believe anyone would ever think of leaving you, pretty girl.”

   Remus crawled on top of you, turning your head to press his lips to yours in an oddly intimate kiss. He tastes like you. “You ready for my dick, pretty? Or are you too tired?”

   You scoffed at Remus’s last question. “Don’t insult me like that, Lupin,” you muttered. You wrapped a leg around his back and looked between the two of you. “Fuck me already.”

   Remus adjusted his hips, hesitant to bury his aching cock into you- raw. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

   “I have potions,” you answered, bucking your hips, teasing the head of Remus’s cock. “Don’t make me beg.”

   “I’d actually love to see you beg, pretty girl,” Remus mused, sinking down into your needy pussy. He dropped his forhead into your shoulder as you let out a strangled moan at the penetration. “You’re so tight, y/n,” Remus rasped. “Squeezin’ me like I was made for you.”

   Your hands came to grip his shoulder, biting down your mewls. “Please Rem,” you begged, sucking bruises into his skin. “Please.”

   Remus started moving his hips. He knew he wouldn’t last long but the way your chest shuddered and how tight you were squeezing him, you probably wouldn’t last long either. “So tight, darling,” he grunted, snapping his hips roughly into you.

   Your mouth fell open as you wrapped your legs around his waist, doing anything to to be as close to him as possible. “I need it, Remmy, please,” you sobbed, bringing him down to swallow your screams with feverishly hot kisses.

   Of course, Remus complied. The lewd sound of your cunt swallowing Remus’s cock mixed with the sounds of your mewls and muffled moans was a beautiful mixture of sounds Remus tried to commit to memory. You gripped him like a vice, digging your nails into his skin with each thrust. “That’s a good girl,” Remus grunted as his pelvis met yours. You shook under him, eyes searching his. “Takin’ everything I’m giving you… so good for me,” Remus babbled.

   You nodded, pressing your nose into Remus’s skin- anything to be consumed by him. “Please, Remus, I’m gonna cum. I need to cum, I need-“

   “I know, pretty girl. I know. Cum around my cock, yeah? Be a good girl for me and cum,” he growled, burying himself deep inside you. You came with a loud moan, burying your sobbing face into Remus’s shoulder. His hot seed flooded your pussy, filling you with him. You whimpered and tightened your legs around him.

   “Holy Merlin,” you whispered, thighs twitching as cum ran down your thighs.

   “Remus is fine,” the lycanthrope replied wittily.

   Your chuckled and let your head fall back on the bed as you caught your breath. “Shut up and take care of me,” you chuckled. “Please.”

   Remus’s eyes softened. “Since you asked so nicely.”

bonus: James’s Reaction

[deartrent]

a valentine's exchange — taa

summary: when valentine's day comes to an end, it's your turn to give trent your own kind of treat

warnings: contains smut (18+, mdni)

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: this was kind of rushed and a day too late sorry!

"thank you for today," you'd just come back from the most dreamy valentine dinner date, something you didn't even know trent was capable of coming up with, let alone organise.

"anything for you baby," you both crashed on the bed, one of trent's arms around you as you cuddled into his side. he looked extra fine today, you couldn't tell if it was the all black fit he'd picked for today, your favourite cologne dripping off of him or the fact he'd dedicated the entire day to spoiling and treating you. you couldn't have imagined a better first valentine's day with trent.

he insisted that valentine's day was all about you and as you'd been dating for a little under a year, you quickly realised his love language was gift giving, taking any opportunity to spoil you rotten, just to show you how much he loved you.

you still felt guilty though, not having any surprises in store for him, on a day that is all about showing love. just once you wished you could pay him back, but you also knew you had nowhere near the capacity to ever gift him the way he gifts you.

you had to get creative and while trent was getting ready for bed—or so he thought—you changed out of your dress and slipped into a black lingerie set you kept for special nights like these. trent didn't ask, but you knew from the looks, the kisses and the subtle touching that he wanted more, and you were going to give him just that.

trent walked out of the bathroom, unaware of your plans as he turned off the bathroom lights and looked up to see you standing in front of your shared bed, your hands on your waist. a smile formed on trent's lips at the sight of you, slowly walking your way as he took in your frame, "what's happening here?" trent towered over you, a smirk on his face. you smiled back at him proudly, looking at him through your lashes, "it's my turn to spoil you," you lifted your shoulders, placing your hands on his waist as you held onto his shirt.

trent simply watched, anticipating your next move. you had no idea what you were doing, you just knew you had to blow his mind to reward him for giving you a valentine's day you could have only dreamed of. you slowly lifted his shirt over his head, trent assisting you, "i loved your outfit, but i love this more," your warm hands traced over trent's abs, all the way down, as you lowered yourself until you were eye level with his growing bulge. trent stood confidently, chewing on his bottom lip, growing impatient from your teasing.

you struggled to pull trent's sweatpants down, freeing his cock from the tight space in his boxers. you stifled a laugh, excited about pleasuring the man in front of you, whose eyes turned dark with lust. his cock twitched in front of you, as though it was screaming to be touched. you rose from a crouch onto your knees, one of your hands wrapping around the base of his shaft, as you spat onto his tip, your hand moving up to spread the natural lubricant over his tip, trent groaning at the sensitivity.

you loved teasing trent, seeing him in distress and eager to feel your touch gave you a sense of power and dominance you craved every once in a while.

your tongue circled around trent's tip, leaving kisses every now and then to get him as riled up as possible. trent struggled to keep his eyes open, his lips parted as soft moans and groans escaped, occasional curses leaving his throat. you knew it wasn't going to be long until he would take over, his naturally dominant nature surfacing. you didn't mind though, you loved trent being in control, but for now, you just wanted to see how far you could really push him.

with a soft grip around his base, you repeatedly tapped his cock against your tongue, holding eye contact as you watched him get weak under your touch. one of his hands moved to the back of your head, while his other hand held his shaft. you knew he had hit his limit when he slowly pushed himself into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his cock as you tried to take as much of him in as you could. your muffled coughs were trent's sign to pull back, your eyes shimmering with tears, a silent response to the tightness gripping your throat.

you took over from trent once again, your hands holding onto the back of trent's thighs as you moved your head at a quicker pace, attempting to take all of trent with each suck. the wet sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth echoed through the room, mixed with trent's grunts. you quickened your pace, feeling trent's legs tense up. the precum leaking from his tip gave away that he was close to release.

you took a minute to catch your breath, wiping away the hair stuck to your tear-stained cheeks, while trent started jerking off, planning to release his cum all over your pretty face, "fuck," he cursed, his breath coming out in deep pants, his head tipping back a little, before focusing on you once again, "open your mouth for me," you silently obeyed, your hands still on trent's thighs as you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop spilled from the head of his cock.

his strokes became faster but irregular, his groans becoming louder as his cum spewed out, marking your face and chest. coming down from his climax, the lust in trent's eyes didn't disappear as he helped you up, before turning you around, your back facing him. pushing you onto the bed, he got rid of your lingerie, the panties made of silk drenched with your wetness. you felt trent's hand on your back, pushing you further down as you arched for him, exposing to him what he'd been waiting for, "good fucking girl," trent mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, his hands brushing over the skin of your bum.

the tip of his cock grazed against your slit, your clit swollen and throbbing at the slightest contact. placing both hands on your hips, trent inserted himself into you, making sure to bury all of him inside, and keeping it there as you sunk your nails into the bedsheets, your eyes closing, your walls tightening around him. the force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of your moans, throwing around curse words as you cried out his name, not knowing whether you begged for mercy or begged for more.

"keep going," you were breathless, the pleasure almost too much as trent's hands held your waist, pulling you in with every thrust, his hips clapping against your bum with every pump, neither of you caring about how loud you were being, "fuck, oh my god-" you cried out, the climax building up inside of you almost unbearable to hold as your eyes rolled back into your head, "i'm gonna- fuck" you continued, your moans sounding like melodies in trent's ears, who started losing his pace as he reached his own climax. the final thrust threw you forward and if it wasn't for trent's grip, holding you in place, you would've fallen onto the bed.

trent plunged his cock in and out a few times, his cum leaking out of your pussy as he dragged himself out slowly, "fucking hell," trent collapsed next to you on the bed, his arm held out for you to join him, "that was fucking hot," he chuckled, as you cuddled into his side once again, your favourite place to be, "that was some going cross-eyed type of sex," you joked, sharing a laugh with the love of your life.

"you know that was my way of thanking you for today," you added, your hand resting on trent's tummy as you both stared at the ceiling. you heard trent snort, "remember the previous dates i took you? i think you forgot to thank me for those," you rolled your eyes, slapping his chest, before pushing yourself up, "you're not getting more out of me today, i'm exhausted." you tore yourself away from trent's warm body as you walked towards the bathroom to get cleaned up. trent intertwined his fingers behind his head, watching your naked figure disappear into the bathroom, a satisfied smile on his face, a content warmth settling in, his mind clouded with you.

and only you.

[bunnyrafe]

Hi! I have a father figure! Rafe question/request for a drabble

At the start of his attraction to reader or relationship, did he ever feel guilty for wanting her? Moreso knowing the dynamic and (subtle) power imbalance?

I imagine him struggling with it a little bit but realising why he’s never had much luck with relationships before…because Rafe (at any age, in any universe) wants someone to need him!!

Can you outline some of this and how his relationship w reader started if you haven’t before??

so i do have this piece by the way, but i admit i did keep it kind of vague on purpose teehee… here’s some random word vomit about their dynamic & some more lore i guess.

out of the two of them, soft pogue!reader is the one who feels any kind of guilt & shame— for being attracted to an older man that’s willing to take on the role of both her father figure and boyfriend.

she does avoid him after that night he drags her into the country club bathroom, only to end up in the same position but it’s his truck instead a week later… that’s when rafe decides to lay it on thick, promising her the whole world and more if she just gives in and lets him cater to what she so desperately needs.

now she’s living in his house and off of his money.

which brings us to rafe. short answer— no. rafe never feels guilty for his attraction or advances towards soft pogue!reader because aside from the fact that he’s simply twisted and becomes obsessive very quickly, he truly believes he’s doing the right thing here. he’s helping a sweet girl out, attempting to give her the life she’s always deserved.

and yes, the codependency she develops means everything and more to him. he wants her to need him. he wants to help her with every facet of her life & provide for her, even if sometimes his help may hurt. he wants her crying when he’s even just slightly disappointed with her, babbling apologies and begging her daddy not to leave her.

in this whole situation / dynamic, the only thing rafe ever feels bad about is not knowing how to navigate his anger and horrible temper. she doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of it unless she’s being a rotten brat. he doesn’t want to see her to cowering in fear when he’s being moody or flinching away at any kind of sudden movements— but it happens and when it does he’s reminded of his younger self, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach and needing a breather. he does feel better later on when she’s all wrapped up in his arms and slumbering peacefully, as if it’s the safest place on earth to be… but he knows he needs to get better.

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[localkiss]

Yapping about death island and re4r leon!

slight nsfw:3 mostly fluff/angst thoughts doe

i want death island (or re4r) leon to like smother me with his weight. I want (need) him to soothe all my worries and frustrations with small pieces of affection.

I know he would subtly be touchy. Hand grabbing onto the hip and rubbing his thumb over the bone.. drooling rn. Wiping your lip if there's a crumb, or under your eye if there's an eyelash. Will go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable and make sure you eat enough or drink enough water... (ahem I struggle w the second one so much ...)

Would find any excuse to help you get dressed, just to admire you in all of your glory. All the scars, stretch marks, beauty marks, he loves them all. Makes him feel better about his own scars when you dote on them. So he's gonna always dote on you twice fold :33 bc he's just like that.

Death island Leon will always find a way to spoil you rotten. Whether it be with gifts, his time, or finding new ways to make you feel so good you can't walk for days; count on him to always cheer you up! Will always ask if you want anything special for breakfast or if you want cereal. Because he genuinely wants to feel needed and like he's doing something that's helping you. (His ass is getting better at not feeling so down about himself because of his therapy 👍🏻☺️..+Chris is there too!) Take you on dates to the most expensive restaurants, while constantly holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your smooth knuckles. If y'all are sitting down, he's gonna find a way to put his hand on your thigh. It soothes him, what can he say *wink* *wink*!

Re4r leon... Wheewww. Don't get me started. I think he's not good at expressing himself here and so he just likes to lay in bed with you in silence. Or watch a movie while cuddling you. Smallll things like that really gets him going. I think he would try buying you flowers every week or giving you massages. Things that would also bring the both of you together (whilst also grounding himself with the now!) Because of his depression and ptsd (no therapy AND no Chris💔) he often pushes you away and will just endlessly workout. Like he genuinely feels guilty for not doing anything all day, sometimes if it's with you. Until one day you suggest to like go to the beach and pick up trash, while also enjoying yourself with the scenery. Two birds with one stone !

Both versions just like to see you happy. I know he struggles with feeling like he needs to always be saving somebody or else he's just useless. Doing things with you like skincare, brushing your teeth, eating, showering, help him by a lot. Because he gets to be with you. It's special! Whenever he's away with you, he always pictures you in his mind, right next to him doing said activity.

Maybe I should've included re2 Leon... 💔 My stink, I miss u... (Can you tell who's my fav leon)

I dunno what this post was or why i wrote all of this down. (grrr im gonna get u writers block! Let me finish my fics without getting distracted!!!! 😡) aughhhhhh.

anyways... I just need him to be my savior god damn it😭😭😭!! Let me be the president's daughter getting saved😔 LMAOO im yapping too much.

[kianely]

OFF THE DASHBOARD

i. FEATURING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Relentless stacks of paperwork and arrests during patrols have Leon busy all the time. It doesn’t help that you’re out of town for some work business. Feeling deprived of your touch, he hastily calls you while in his car, needing to hear your voice.

iii. CONTENT WARNINGS — 18+ content (MDNI) Sub!Leon, masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, spit for lubrication, praise with tiny hints of condescending degradation (leon receiving) Focused mostly on Leon overall. Please check my DNI before interacting. Lowkey rushed, my bad LMAOO

Your boyfriend was a needy and pitiful mess. He stationed his car in an empty parking lot as soon as he got off his shift at the department. He had his lights turned off. He was ringing your phone, already having you on speaker in case you picked up. A bold move, but he never invested in a pair of earphones so it would have to do.

The slacks of his uniform were painfully tight, he needed you. Couldn’t get off on his own, he was fucking addicted to you. He used to be able to get off in just minutes by the simple thought of you. But he was getting greedy, you spoiled him rotten. He needed to feel you, or at least hear your voice coax him into an orgasm.

“C’mon,” he muttered out, running a hand through his messy hair out of desperation. His phone was beeping, the picture he had for your saved contact showing on his phone and illuminating his car a bit.

It was wishful thinking. It was midnight already, there’s no way you would–

“Hello?”

The greeting alone sent blood rushing to his cock, his mind was spinning at the sound of the voice he had been craving to hear the entire long and exhausting work day. His tongue ran across his lips, trying to make up for how dry his throat felt.

“Oh, thank god.” He let out an audible sigh of relief, one you could clearly hear over the phone. “I’m so sorry for calling so late and without any notice, it’s just…”

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously, not knowing how to continue his sentence. He couldn’t just straight up tell you that he had been fantasizing about you jerking him off for hours on end, right? The thought of your hands taking his uniform off at a tantalizing pace before finally wrapping your hand around his cock—it sounded so good. Or even the manner in which you’d teasingly run your fingers across his abdomen before tracing over the lines of his v-line, he was always so weak under your touch.

“It’s okay, I was awake catching up on a show anyway. You’ve been so busy lately and I miss you like crazy, I’m glad you called.” Your voice came through and he wanted to melt into a puddle in his car seat.

“I miss you too, so much. Listen—I’m kind of in a predicament right now,” he eventually managed to say with a breathless tone of voice, placing his hand on the bulge straining against his slacks, rubbing the area lightly and letting out a soft whimper. He hoped you’d get the picture, without having to vulgarly explain himself.

A beat, you registered the sound of Leon’s voice. He was horny, you could tell just by the undertone of need that seeped from his words. Usually he was more subtle, not so blatantly whimpering during a call. That was kinda hot though, your usually composed boyfriend was in need of release.

“Baby. Are you hard right now?”

The term of endearment made Leon’s heart quicken, there was something about the way you said it that made heat blossom across his cheeks. “Guilty.”

You could be cruel sometimes, but not today. Not when you hadn’t touched Leon in nearly three weeks because of conflicting schedules.

“Take your belt off,” your voice was gentle but Leon knew you were instructing him. “And let me hear it, too. Wanna know you’re listening to me.”

There was something about you bossing him around that was so incredibly sexy, he momentarily set his phone down on one of his thighs so you could hear the clanking of metal as he fumbled to take off his belt and gear. It took him longer than usual, and the adrenaline pumping through him made him hear his own pulse in his ears.

“Okay,” fuck, his voice was quivering and his belt was discarded off onto the passenger seat. “What now?”

“Mm,” you thought about it for a moment, just to tease him. Eventually, you settled on a response. “Stroke yourself over your boxers, and tell me what that pretty mind of yours was thinking about all day.”

He was a good boy, unzipping his pants and slipping his right hand underneath—finding the shape of his cock and gliding his hand up and down. The fabric of his boxers was already wet with his precum, it was sticking almost uncomfortably to him. His free hand found purchase on the edge of his car seat, short nails digging into the leather of it.

“I, uh.” He was stammering, mind struggling to formulate a coherent thought. You did this on purpose, making him talk even when he was struggling.

“C’mon sweetheart, you can do better than that. Don’t tell me you went all dumb just by touching yourself for a single second.”

Those taunts, fuck, that condescending tone you took. The windows of his car were undoubtedly going to fog up with all the ragged breaths he was taking. “Was thinking about your hand on my cock, and that thing you do with your thumb—like…oh fuck, when you rub the tip with it.”

A babbling mess, that’s what he was. “T–Thought about you spitting on my cock, and the way you look at me while you do. Want you. Need you.”

“Atta boy,” your praise made him gasp—the words shooting straight down the gutter. “Keep going, you sound so fucking pretty.”

He was almost drooling with the way his jaw was slackened, his lips feeling dry with each intake of breath through his mouth. Only you were given the heavenly experience of hearing all his little sounds, the hiccup of his breath and broken sobs.

“Can I touch myself now, please?” His request was quiet, spoken in a bashful manner.

You laughed at his question, wanting to play with him a little. “What do you mean? You are touching yourself.”

“Yeah but…” he let out a whine, beginning to feel frustrated. So damn impatient, the call had only been running for a few minutes and he was already being pouty. “Like, without my boxers. That’s what I meant. Please? I don’t know how much longer I can go.”

“So dirty. Where are you right now, Leon?”

He wanted to growl at you, how could you be asking such an unnecessary question in the middle of this? Were you trying to torture him? You didn’t even answer his oh so nicely worded request.

“Does it matter?” There was a little bit of frustration in his voice. Could he take his boxers off or not? “Parking lot.”

“Ah, right. So you’re asking me if you can take your boxers off in a public parking lot and touch yourself, then? You’re a cop, aren’t you? Isn’t that public indecency?”

“Babe.” His voice was so whiny, fingers getting ready to reach under his boxers. “Please. Just let me, there’s no one around, promise.” He craved your permission, even if he didn’t necessarily need it to touch himself.

You were so going to give him shit over this the next time the two of you hung out in person. “So impatient, fine, go ahead.”

His boxers were hastily shoved further down as soon as he got the green light, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock. Tears brimmed at his eyes at the relief that flooded his senses, letting out a hiss as he stroked himself.

He imagined his hand was yours, mimicking the way you would touch him because he had it all memorized. “Oh god,” his eyes fluttered shut as his head tilted back towards the headrest—hips bucking up into his own hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“That’s it, keep going.” Hearing your boyfriend in such a messy state was getting to you too, your own hand snaking down your figure to the place that ached. “Spit on it.”

“What?” The command made him lose focus, his mind spinning with each passing second, “oh, wait, okay. Fuck, that’s hot.”

It was an easy task for him, saliva having already gathered in his mouth from the way he had been too focused on all the pleasure to even swallow. He let his spit land on the tip, watching as it ran it’s way down to the base.

With a high-pitched moan, he kept on going—a little faster than before. He was losing it, his rhythm progressively getting more sloppy as his stomach got tighter and tighter.

He really should’ve turned his ignition on so he could have some AC in his damn car, his uniform was going to be damp with sweat after this. Whatever, he owned a washing machine.

He could hear your encouragement and dirty talk, but he was too out of it to really pay attention. It didn’t matter, all he needed to know was that you were on the other line of the call, that’s the only way he could come in this situation.

“Not gonna last much longer,” he rasped out, giving the base of his cock some firm squeezes—the same motion you did to him whenever you gave him a handjob.

“I know,” you truly did, you could tell by the way he hadn’t responded to any of your praising comments, instead only receiving a mixture of heavy and uneven breathing as a response. “You can do it, sweetheart. Make a mess all over yourself.”

“Mm,” he heard that praise though, his knees felt like jelly. His hand was starting to cramp up but that was the last thing on his mind.

“Please,” he had no clue what he was begging for, the tears that glazed over his eyes started to spill. He hated that it wasn’t enough. Yeah, he was about to come, but his hand made only a decent substitute for yours.

“Gonna come, gonna come,” he repeated the phrase over and over again until his voice nearly gave out, “fuck, gonna—“

His eyebrows were knit together prettily, breathing momentarily paused as he gave some final tugs before his eyes rolled back, his hearing failing on him as all the noises turned to static.

He let out a silent moan, stripes of white landing onto the vest of his uniform. He inhaled and exhaled shuddering breaths as his body shook, slumping against his seat. His body felt limp and weak, hand cramping up from the way he had been going at it. “Oh my god…”

You gave him a couple moments to recuperate himself, “feeling good?”

“Better than good. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up my call,” all the sexual tension of the day was finally exhausted from him, lazy smile forming on his face as he tried to catch his breath—he could hear you laughing over the phone.

“Gotten blue balls or something. Sooo, are you going to write yourself up now for public indecency?”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

[wholoveseggs]

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

[citruslullabies]

Can we please have some more dog moments from Dogday please?

Sure can do sweetheart! Dog moments from Dogday💚

Dogday is well.. extremely loyal

He waits for you every day, waiting patiently for you to come back to him. Fearful that one day you won't

But you always do, and he can't help but adore the loving hands that return to him and save him from himself and his story

The clock ticked effortlessly, each tick feeling like an hour but it had only been a minute. The large canine sighed as he waited by the door of the cabin you all called home, with Biscuits nuzzled into his side as he waited. Peanuts waited too, howling sometimes as he felt you took too long to come home and Cubby just kept her distance from everything until she knew you were home.

His floppy ears drooped even more, eyes weary as he thought of any possibility. Even after you had all left the factory, his heart still couldn't fathom the fact that they were all safe and he still worried for your safety when you were away. In a way, being in the outside world rather than the factory made him fear for you more. So when he heard the fumbling of keys and saw the door open, he immediately got up and greeted you with a wagging tail. "Angel! You're home. How was your day? Did anything happen at work?" He asked, following you around like a lost puppy dog when he was a grown man. He listened to you rant and ramble, listening and just glad you were home. He would lay by that door and rot if you hadn't.

Dogday doesn't like baths

He can tolerate them but... He isn't gonna like em

And he has no clue why, when he was a human he loved taking hot showers. Not it just felt like an inconvenience to him

Dogday grumbled as you forced his oversized body into the tub before turning on the faucet, ignoring his groans and stares of displeasure as his arms were folded over his golden chest. The warm water felt nice but something about having wet fur just irked him.

He felt your gentle hands rub the soap into his fur, and he didn't mind that.. he just didn't like when you'd get a plastic bowl and fill it up with water before dunking it on his head or wherever he was soapy. Grumbling every time you did and shaking as payback, getting you and everything surrounding you soaked. You turned your back for a moment, grabbing a brush to brush a knot you found in his fur.. and he took the chance. Slowly, he lifted himself up and tried to sneak out of the bathtub but was quickly caught red-handed.

"Dogday!" You scolded, walking back over and ignoring his big guilty puppy eyes as you got him back in the bathtub. He huffed and wanted to fight against you, but just gave up. You're lucky he loved you so much.

Time for the angst guys

Remember how I said he'd just lay and rot in front of the door if you didn't come back? Yeahhh..

He waited, and oh how he waited so very patiently. Waiting for hours with each tick that echoed through the house for you.

It had been days and he was scared, wanting to go out and look for you but you had told him to stay. And he was loyal to your demands... But he found himself too heavy to move and take care of himself or anyone else inside as long as you were gone. He continued to wait, ignoring a worried Poppy and Kissy. Ignoring the worried stares and even Cubby coming along and trying to get him to move despite her distaste for him.

He stayed and waited. And waited. And waited. Your scent started to leave the house, and that broke his heart. You smelled like nostalgia and home, like a fresh baked pie on thanksgiving but the home was now empty and abandoned. The pie now rotten and the good smell fading, all he could smell was the rain outside and the sadness he felt.

Nothing could make him move, and he continued to wait for you. And he would stay waiting for as long as it takes.

Thank you for requesting hon!

[angelinpiink]

 ❥ Note: a little thirst! Inspired by some head canons I have coming soon for all the jjk men :3

Ex!Husband Nanami Who despite having been divorced from you for over 3 years still makes sure you’re taken care of. Part of this is because he feels guilty for being responsible for the fall apart of your marriage due to his line of work. Another motive being the fact that no matter what he’s always going to love you and though the marriage is over– he plans to remain true to the vows he spoke on your wedding day. so, as long as you're comfortable with it, he still provides for you. Sending you money whenever you need, whatever you need he’s the one you  call. That includes when you’re feeling needy, an itch that only he can satisfy. It takes one simple text message or a picture of you in lacy lingerie—that he more than likely paid for. (if you’re feeling bold, that is) and really want him to rush over the second he’s free. Regardless he won’t ever deny you, even if work leaves him forced to keep you waiting for a while. Eventually, you’ll be in his grasp... When he lets himself into your apartment, already having a key being that he is the one paying the rent. Your loving  ex-husband, Nanami, who is so quick to bend you over and pull your panties out of the way with gentle hands. One steadily caressing the flesh of your thigh as he pushes you into the mattress. His face straight as ever while you’re a flustered mess from the fact that you’re dripping and ready for him—in part to the fact that you had been touching yourself well before he arrived. Something that he’d punish you for had he not been too exhausted from a day's work to care. “I’ve Missed you so much.” You’ll breathe out, your fingers gripping at the sheets, once he’s finally inside you. Being the considerate man he is, he gives you a moment to adjust to the fact that he’s practically splitting you in two. His lips move against your neck, as he finally moves, thrusting himself deeper at a steady pace.  “Did you, dear? my sweet little wife couldn’t wait for a chance to cream on my cock.” he’ll say, his warm breath fanning across your face and sending shivers down your spine.  His words are followed by other sweet nothings in your ear. With complete disregard for the fact that you are no longer his wife. He’s hitting all the right spots, his thumb rubbing steady circles in your clit making you feel so high you couldn't even correct him. “M-more…please..”  He’ll have you begging, through your tears in a quivering. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven't i?” Nanami’s voice is kind in a way that feels almost taunting. He finds it adorable that even after everything you still have no shame in asking for what you want. Because you know he’ll give it.  He gives you everything he has fucking into you with rabid pace. “shh, it’s okay. I’m here to make up for it now.”  Nanami is a man of his word, after all. So he does just that, a hand gripping at your jaw as he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.  He’ll spoil you rotten, giving in to every plea that leaves your lips. Until your voice is hoarse, and you’ve soaked the sheets with every orgasm he draws out of you.

masterlist

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ ULTRAVIOLENCE ✦ SUGURU GETO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ On Christmas evening of 2009 Geto Suguru receives an unexpected gift, a cure to his loneliness, and a curse to his mission of creating his "new world".

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, cult leader!geto suguru, canon divergent, profanity, prostitution, yandere!getou suguru, possessive behavior,smut, f1ngering, hand job, mutual masturbation, nipple stimulation, mutual pining, heavy angst, angst and tragedy, canon-typical violence; 4,7k word count + this this for @nagumoan's collab: 'dance with the dead'

| blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. + cross-posted to ao3.|

30th of September, 2007.

The warmth and the humidity in the air have been settling on Geto’s skin for a while. The shrill cry of cicadas has been ringing in his ears. Even now, he can hear it amidst the sound of running water, washing dishes, and the table fan. 

“Otou-san will be home soon, Sugu. You don’t have to wait for him to come back. Nowadays, he works till late at night.” The elderly woman puts the poached egg in the ramen bowl and places it in front of her son. Suguru stares at the food with plain slate eyes. “Your father thinks he can help you with your higher studies.” —his mother wipes her frail, slightly wrinkled hands in her apron before dragging the chair and sitting in front of her son, face to face— “But actually, he just misses having you around the house since you moved in the dorms last month. Is the food there okay? Are you eating well?”

Suguru does not speak. He gulps remembering the taste of curses. He has been doing his job like a robot all this summer— exorcise, absorb, digest. exorcise, absorb, digest, exorcise, absorb, digest, absorb, digest— “How is Satoru?” his mother asks pulling him back into reality. Her smile was so soft smile that Suguru thought it could make lilies bloom. He just listens to his mother like he usually does whenever he visits her. His eyes fall onto the ramen bowl again, there are hot fumes emerging from it. They must smell delicious like he remembers. But unfortunately, it failed to thrum the strings of Geto Suguru’s heart. 

“Okaa-san, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry. I can wait for Otou-san to come home.” he remarks, smiling at his mother letting the food get cold. He has done this so many times, engaging his mother in talk so that she does not notice how hard it is for him to chew, swallow & eat without experiencing the taste and smell of it. All he can feel on his tongue is the rotten taste of curses, the aroma of dying corpses of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers. Maybe this is why he is losing weight so fast, not because of the heat. The more he tried to cling onto the mundanity of humans the farther it slipped away from him; like sand spilling through the gaps of his fingers.

“But why aren’t you in your school dress, my dear?” His mother asks, noticing him in normal black trousers and shirt.

“Oh! It got too much dirt.” He responds, looking at the clock in the kitchen. 

This time will be the last time he sees his mother’s smile, hears her voice, sees her cook food for him, and the last time he welcomes his father to home.

3rd of February, 2008

“Oka-san. Otou-san. I’m turning 18 today.”  Suguru jocked down to sit in front of his parents' graveyard. He places a few incense sticks with the fragrance of chrysanthemum, two bowls full of ramen, and some sake in front of the graveyard. He looks at the poached eggs, and the lump in his throat bobs once. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come on your funeral day.”

“Neeh—Oka-san, are you listening?” His eyes perk up. “Is it bad that I don’t regret any of this?” There is a pause before he stands up again. He finishes his last bit of cigarette and burns the butt with his cursed energy. “But you know what? I’m now less angry and more guilty. Guilty of so many things—”

“Geto-sama, we don’t have much time. They will tail us soon if we are here any longer than this.” Manami speaks with worry carefully buried under her commanding tone. His phone vibrates. He checks the caller ID. Shui Kong it read. A salacious curve appears at one corner of his lip. Disbanding the star religious group was a piece of cake for him. And, now with the help of Shui Kong, he will get an endless influx of money and curses in no time yet it would not be enough to defeat ‘the strongest’; he thinks. nope, that’s wrong, deep down, he knows that.

“Yeah, you are right. Nanako and Mimiko will get scared if they wake up and find none of us.” Geto smiles before turning on his feet to walk. As he starts to walk Manami waits till he goes ahead of her, at least eight feet from her and then she follows Geto Suguru. Geto's shadow does not even touch Manami’s, never does, she makes sure of that. She does not belong to his shadow, nor as his comrade but perhaps a part of the ‘family’ that Geto-sama keeps talking about. 

“I won’t be here next year,” Suguru murmurs to himself before stepping out of the graveyard. He never looked back that day not while walking, not while getting in the car, and not even through the mirror. He did not feel the need to look back.

24th of December 2009

Geto Suguru skims through the thick crowd in the front lounge of one of the most expensive brothels in the city like the bow of a ship through the waves. There are men on couches, beautiful women over them, and the blended aroma of strong cologne and burning tobacco fills the air. Not only that, the tingling music mixed with waves of laughter of women and men makes Geto slaver at the thought of killing them all. He could do it now. He has both, power and confidence. But he is not here to create a massacre.

“Getou-sama,” a familiar low hum reaches his ears making him turn his head. At first, he thought he was just imagining it then he felt a tug in his baggy pants. He lowers his eyes to the ground.

“Ahhhhh! Nanako—Suguru takes her in his arms and clears his throat before speaking making it tart at every stretch of his words— “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the car? It's not safe for you here.” Not only it is unsafe but also inappropriate. A girl of her age should not witness the path that could also been her if he had not saved Nanako and her twin sister two years ago. Geto strolls back towards his car. “Negi, make sure she does not follow me. ” He instructs this young lad who drove Geto today keeping a sleeping Nanako inside the car. 

“Well, she wouldn't have been here if she didn't fight with her sister,” Negi responds before bowing down. Geto watches the car go inside the parking area and then he vanishes into the thick crowd like a pebble in the wind of lust, power, money, and scandal. He earns a few curious stares and with such enormously handsome features and elegantly electrifying personality who would miss? It dawns on his mind that he killed the Yakuza who owned this brothel a week ago. The crowd is bearable, well, penetrable at least. Walking amongst non-sorcerers makes him nauseous at times but now he has reached the point where a part of him is willing to abolish this useless crowd in a snap. But he does not need to, not now. Now is not the time, nor the place. 

Geto Suguru should have been at his new home with his new family spending this fine Christmas evening drinking. In all honesty, he did not even have to cut through this lustrous mob if Shui Kong kept his word, that is, delivering the money in the proper place and time. The only reason why he came in person to collect the money was because Shui Kong was the one who helped him to get a grasp on the star religious group. Not only that, he kept giving Geto information about such groups, and with his cursed manipulation technique he gobbled them up in no time. It was a walk in the park for him.

There was a steady flow of curses and money. Even certain small yakuza gangs, the smart ones but with lower manpower, started to send favors to appease him. He is like a god of the underworld now. But some dumb power-hungry yakuza men refused to retort to such steps and hence, they fell prey to his curses. He is going to eventually kill all these foxes but not now. He needs them now, he needs them to dilute his presence and make himself untraceable in the hands of jujutsu sorcerers. Killing the lions has already been a huge loss. 

“There you are, Mr.Kong.” Geto remarked walking into the room. He does not take a sit rather stands against the door almost covering the entrance. 

“Forgive me—” Shui starts with a brilliant smile that has cracked more deals than existed. He is not a pawn but a rook. “I would have gone to your place but I am needed to resolve an issue here.”

Geto chuckles. “Maybe it's your need that brought you here.” He quipped as Shui kept two briefcases on the bed. 

Shui Kong gives him an assertive look before smiling. He lights up a cigarette and says, “ Would have been a happier man if that were the case but— ” There is a ridge between Geto’s eyebrows as he refuses to finish his thoughts. Blowing a puff into the air he turns his head to the other side of the room, towards another door, and yells from the bottom of his lungs. “Princess, I don't have all day.” Geto’s eyebrows do not let go of the tension. His arms are now crossed tightly across his chest, lower lip gleaming since he swiped his tongue across it. He just needs to see this princess, just for once. 

“You see, someone asked for her, a fox from a rival gang.” Kong starts to explain. The cigarette in between his index and middle finger keeps sizzling in scarlet red. “he is saying he is gonna pay full for her— you know — but she was attacked while working —”

Geto’s dark eyes are now stuck on the doorknob. It starts to rotate. He registers Shui’s words who is scrolling through his phone to call them. The click of the doorknob makes Geto release the breath he was holding back, slowly. Before the slightest part between the door and the frame, Geto’s lips part exclaiming, “Shhhhhhh!” with a hiss at the end. 

You unlock the door and wait for an opening to interrupt their conversation.

Shui Kong looks at Geto and then he follows those dark drunk eyes of Geto Suguru that took him to the other side of the room. There you stood, in a translucent white dress covering you from head to toe. There is a rose around your neck and rose leaves on the hem of your full-sleeved dress but beneath the dress, anyone could easily see the bandages around certain parts of your body — scattered and ripped. Your nipples are visible too. They are perked. Geto maintains his stance, hands inside his pocket and standing by supporting his shoulder against the door frame. Only his lips move, growling and raging underneath. “So, there are still those who don't obey me,” His eyes drink in your appearance so shamelessly; utterly shamelessly. 

You rake away your eyes from this man of Six feet and some inches, clamping your palms around your upper arms. Geto walks inside the room. “There will be no exchange of anything from here, Shui Kong-san.” He does not take any of the suitcases just your cell phone from the dressing table.

“Passcode?”

You exchange glances with Shui Kong before opening your mouth. He nods. You answer him, “4444.” Geto's eyes flash onto you checking if you are mocking him or not. You are not. He unlocks your phone checks the search history. 

“There’s a lot of porn here.” 

You rub your upper arms slowly and say, “It’s not like my clients are interested in my pleasure— or my well-being.” 

“You need to check her phone to tell? Can't you tell just by looking at her?” That earns Shui Kong a momentary glare. 

“Yet you are willing to sell her,” Geto prompts sarcastically with a smile plastered on his face. There is an edge in his voice. Shui does not protest. He knows what he is doing. “You can stay with me,” He offers, without thinking about the consequences of it. “Of course, you’ll keep working, then.” It takes you a moment to decipher his words but it is not something unexpected. 

“Oh, I don’t mind, whatever you want.” You say quickly. “I can follow orders.” Embarrassment seeps into your skin as you realize how rushed those words were that came out of your mouth. Scanning him through the corner of your eye, you find him smirking still checking your phone.

“Get her things in the car. She will be staying with me from now on.” Geto remarks slipping the phone in his pocket before leaving.

Shui Kong sits on the bed, soft and pink with a thud. “Do you realize what you are doing, Y/N?” 

“You heard him.” You say getting out of those high heels and changing into flats. Even though you are bruised you managed to get your trolley. It is a good thing that you wore a long coat to cover yourself up. People are already staring, what would they have done if you turned up in such scantily dressed attire? Your Madame has already been summoned. Getting out of the building you look around and find Geto Suguru talking to your Madame. Shui Kong is also there. The moment you open the door of the car you spot a kid sleeping on the back seat. This must be Nanako. You adjust the kid's head on your lap. She's gonna get her neck sprained if she sleeps like that. Through the window, you see Geto still talking to your Madame, as he keeps jerking his leg impatiently and occasionally scratching his forehead with his thumb.

“We can't afford to do that — her regulars — they will complain. ” she tartly remarks. 

“Well, give them a discount. You know how the system works, so figure something out with Shui Kong-san.” 

“Have it your way then. She was a jinx anyways ” She remarks letting all the disappointment out. It piques Geto’s interest because when he saw you, you were not looking at him, you were looking behind him. A feeble curse not visible to normal people but visible to people with enough cursed energy to become a sorcerer or an exorcist. He specifically customized this curse after digesting it to pick up ‘talents’ like you who are considered as ‘freaks’ by those idiots. Just like Nanako and Mimiko.

“What do you mean?” He tries to sound curious hiding his disgust underneath the question because he has seen all the gore behind the glory of it all. 

“People say that she is a witch. She kills men and takes their money. She’s got a black cat, a big one. Can talk to birds. I’ve seen her—” Suddenly the street lights, the honking of the cars, and the sound of footsteps of passersby became loud. Geto could not hear her properly anymore. Damn filthy monkeys.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to make a call.” One more minute of her blabbering nonsense he would have killed her. Geto calls Manami stepping aside in the dark shade of the alley. He talks for about five minutes before looking your way. You do not look away, rather give him a warm smile and bow your head to appreciate his kind gesture. He immediately turns around. You think he did not see you or maybe looking at someone else or somewhere else but all he could do is stumble on his words while talking to Manami. It’s distracting. You’re distracting. 

Geto Suguru walks towards the car and you fold Nanako’s legs a little to make space for him but he disappoints you thoroughly. He sits beside the driver, the barrier is up so you can not see his face. Disappointment and hurt sedimenting at the bottom of your heart you arch your head and close your eyes. It feels like, after a long time, you have closed your eyes and not for the pretense of pleasure.

January, 2010.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Geto drawls lazily as he sits on the sofa, still in his kasaya freshly finishing after seeing his visitors. He was out of town for almost a week and hence today's session was longer than usual. He needs a bath, a nice warm bath, not some scum to show up at his doorstep begging for you.

There are a bunch of men standing behind the older man, who seems to be the leader of the group; all armed, and Geto sits alone at the opposite. At times like these, he feels a little closer to the god. A middle-aged man, speaks keeping his gun on the center table, perhaps to assert dominance Geto thinks too but it makes him nothing but widen his smile. “You have something that belongs to me. And I have something that would interest you more so why don't we—”

Splotches of blood fall on his gun, warmth settling on his cheeks too like drops of oil. He turns his head to find that one of his men is sliced into two. Geto clears his throat gaining his attention again. “What a mess you have made, Toshiro-san. ” He gets up from his seat and before leaving he remarks huskily, “Please clean this up before you leave, Toshiro-san” The man, dumbfounded by what just happened, nods in agreement watching the man disappear into the inner quarters.

The dawn dies, painting the blue sky with its blood-red, agony welcoming the full moon and her bevy of stars. At night, Geto Suguru is not a monk anymore. He is much more than that — a father figure to two homeless orphans, an idol to a few who believe in his dream of creating a ‘new world’ and a savior to you.

It has been almost a month since Geto Suguru brought you to his home. At the dawn of the 25th of December 2009, when you woke up, Manami was there to help you with the chores and show you around. You have spotted Negi a few times while roaming and exploring the house, but there was no sign of that man, your so-called ‘savior’. When you asked Manami, she was rather cold while answering, “Geto-sama will be home around New Year's.”

It was not hard to pinpoint her jealousy for you. “Whore”, “Slut”, “Homebreaker”, “Witch” — the list continues. Her jealousy is just the tip of ice-berg. Maybe she had to sacrifice something greater when Geto took her in, something more important than freedom. Apart from her cold demeanor, everything was just fine; it was more than you could ask for. The wounds and bruises have started to fade. They are barely pinnable now. Nanako has a twin sister, Mimiko. They have warmed up to you more quickly than you imagined and a part of you was grateful to them since Manami became humbler in her gestures.

This fine morning, you noticed a new pair of shoes near the doormat. You knew it had to be his, Geto Suguru. He is home. Today might be the first time you get to talk to him, pay off his debts, or maybe keep working while staying here just like he said or whatever he decides to do with you. It was odd that he did not suspect you at all, or maybe he told someone to do a background check. He seems like the kind of person who would hold such powers. You have heard about him even if they reached out to you in the form of rustling rumors.

“Are you comfortable here?” 

Losing your balance you topple on your feet and eventually fall on the ground. Nanako and Mimiko peeks by his legs. They are not even at his knee length, so small, so fragile and so full of life. They laugh and so do you. Geto Suguru is unimpressed. He crouches down pulling the girls in front of him. “Go and play in my room but don’t fight, alright?” The shift in his demeanor amazes you. He has changed. He is nothing like you have been warned about. 

As soon as the twins leave, giggles and voices filling the corridor Geto’s eyes shift on you. You are still on the ground, legs half-folded. He extends his hand towards you to help you get up but you flinch away, sliding against the wall. In the middle of this long corridor, Geto Suguru is on his knees before you watching as if something fell from the sky, a boon, an angel. 

His lips extended from ear to ear, flashing his teeth. “What's up with this coy act of yours?” He wets his bottom lip.“Too timid for a whore. I know you can see things.” Your eyebrows grew closer as you got up and formed a response in your head.

“It's hard to break years of habit,” you speak, “Sir.” you quip, seeing him still on his knees. Why isn’t he standing up? Does he need a hand?

“Not gonna complain that I called you a ‘whore’ ?” He taunts, standing up and facing you.

“Too timid for that sir,” you say keeping up the eye contact. But that does not last long. Geto’s dark globules follow your behind. You notice too that there is a shadow on the wall of the corridor of a lady. He sighs heavily exclaiming, “Manami. You can come out now,” 

Timidly she walks out of the room exclaiming in a firm tone after clearing her throat, “Getou-sama, your bath has been prepared.” 

“Have you prepared my clothes too?” He narrows the gulf in between the two of you and grabs a few strands of your hair smelling it, letting his lips graze over a little, and checking your reactions as Manami answers.

“No. Not yet. I’ll do it right—“Actually, prepare two sets of clothes.” Geto interrupts. The way your chest heaves, up and down, frantically tempts him to tease you more. “Hers too. She will be joining me.” 

Geto was kind not to ask you to strip in front of him. It was not like you would not be used to that; you had practiced enough still you thought his eyes would alone eat you away if you were to undress in front of him. Curling up your braided hair in a bun and securing it with a clip you enter the bathroom. He is already in the bathtub, head arched, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. You walk slowly trying not to make any sound. “You know, of all the curses I’ve swallowed—” you gasp loudly palming your face. 

“Can you not do that, please? Every time i feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.” So many words in one sentence; a question; a request; a demand; a plea. Suguru blinks: once, twice, and thrice. “Yours have a very distinct sweet smell.” His words slurred, inaudible at the end. This is the first time he has seen you speak so much and that too, only to him but that is not what warms his heart. ‘Sir.’ you did not add sir. He hated the honorifics with you. “And . . . I’m not a curse.” You mutter before dipping yourself in the bathtub sitting against the wall of the bathtub facing him.

You notice the huge X-shaped scar over his chest. “How did you get that?” you ask playing with the water not meeting his eye. His toes touch the side of your hips, hands resting on the white of the bathtub but when he does not answer you look up to him and see his hands near your ankles. There is a brief eye contact of realization about what’s he up to and in the next blink you are close to him.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks touching his forehead against yours.

“The pain?” You say, running his hands over his chest careful enough not to touch his nipple. “Or just the scar.” 

“How did you get this?” He rubs the mark of one of your wounds on your arm. “And this?” he asks, a little concerned by the number and place of the wounds you have all over the body. They have faded but not totally. The agony on his face is clear but you remind yourself it is not because of you. It must be because he is reminded of how he got his scar. 

“Mostly clients.” You answer noticing his hands trailing up to your breasts. Your mouth parts, eager moan willing to escape. “But some men like them. Some men don’t. So, they pay to heal them in a way like they were never there,”

“What kind do you think I’m?” Suguru asks but you fail to answer since his hands have started to massage your breasts, nice and slow. Your moans have started to weigh more, the bottom and lower lip parting with each other more. Your vision turns black as his mouth latches on the column of your neck but that is not where it is needed now. Your taut nipples need desperate attention. Moving closer to him, your palm is over his cock. He is hard, leaking even. A gran escapes from his mouth, edgy and elongated. One of his fingers dips inside your vagina. Woah. You’re wet, so very wet. Even under the water, he can feel your arousal, even smell it. You buck your hips a bit giving him an invitation. The sloshing sound of water feels more embarrassing than your moans. He does not take it but when you start to pump his cock in long, deep, and fast strokes he leans towards you taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You should have known how strong he is when he dragged you closer to himself because the way he is sucking and biting you think you will cum soon. He starts to rub your clit in rough, rigorous movements as his mouth works on your nipples. For a moment your hands feel lithe; your hands pause working his cock.

“You smell so good,” He murmurs unlatching his mouth and licking up to your collarbone from the base of your cleavage. You twist and tilt your head as his lips explore your neck while pushing his fingers up and down inside your vagina, nudging your sweet spot. Your hands start to pump his cock again, harder and faster this time, reverting him the favor with the same intensity and emotion. You feel him smirk against your skin before he bites your earlobes making you jolt. Another arm that rested on the valley of your waist tugs you closer, again; you think he is going to pull you onto his lap, fuck you deep, nice, and full. “Fuck” he mutters feeling his cock tense up. The sloshing of water now gets mixed with your loud moans mixed with his low grunts. Geto looks at your face, your eyes meeting his and occasionally landing on his lips and one of your hands gripping too hard on the whites of the bathtub. Both of your hands pick up the pace, matching the intensity and the ragged breathing. Eyes rolling white, jaw clenching hard, head arching back as the wave of orgasm approaches both of you.

“You’re close,” you huff and pant in between feeling his warm ejaculated fluid onto your hand.

“So are you,” he murmurs cumming as you keep pumping his cock till it stops. Geto pulls his fingers out of your messy aching cunt and shamelessly puts them in his mouth, licking and sucking it to the base of his fingers. You watch him as if he is the man to take your first time. The loneliness, the affection, the desire— all hit Suguru in a flash like a downpour as he notices you looking. He gets out of the bathtub and steps into the shower zone. When you hear the water running, you step out of the bathtub too but do not join him in the shower instead grab your phone with a towel that was in the pocket of his previous attire. Typing a number, you hit the send button and immediately delete it from the history.

The message read: [“I’m in.”]

note: special thanks to my dearest fumi aka dom ( @akiniku ) for constantly listening to my ideas, talking me through them, and beta-reading this when I finished it. I finished writing this today and it was so rushed by Dom talked me through it and gave me the course I needed. hope you enjoyed reading it. thank you for making it this far. i do want to continue this but will see if i can manage time to write after october.

also tagging @orchid3a @semisgroupie

[billysgun]

your girl

billy the kid x cowgirl!reader |requested!|Ciara is a childhood friend turned lover one drunken night...he lives with the consequence daily and now, with his eyes set on you, you do too.|

"how 'bout this one?" Ciara smiles, curls bouncing as she picks up an obviously rotten fruit

"mm, it looks ripe!" Billy smiles back at her as she lets out a soft laugh, placing the moldy fruit down as her painted nails skim the apples

"can 'ya check over there for some oranges, there in season" she purses her lips before pointing down ways way, he nods and passes through civilians before finding the citrus

well, not just the citrus.

your hair was out of the bun you usually kept it in, he knows because it's tucked under the cowboy hat you usually have cemented on when you ride.

he saw your horse when they walked in but he only prayed he'd be able to see you.

you're Jesse's sister. he's been riding with you since he can remember and also felt his heart race around you since he can remember

all this time and he's only stuttered a few words to you.

"sir, are you gonna buy that?" the cart owner asks and he shakes his head to get you out of it, flipping a coin to the owner as he takes the orange he'd been gripping for a few minutes.

he loves Ciara...but he doesn't love her.

they were friends until a drunken mistake and awoke no longer virgins and suddenly a couple.

he hates himself for it. taking her virginity when he had more whiskey than blood in him and now he pays the price with this relationship they never questioned.

he assumed the pet names and touches would stop after a few weeks, but then he heard from the townspeople that they were together.

he'd go up to her and tell her...but he feels too guilty. and now you're here and he can't think straight

"Hey Billy" your southern accent rings through his ears and he turns to see you, hand on your gunbelt and a smile on your lips. he can feel his face burn at the sight

"hey, Y/n. what 'cha doin' here?"

"gettin' food." you snort out the obvious and he shakes his head, feeling like an idiot around you

"I assume you doin' the same with your girl?" you tilt your hat toward Ciara.

even you knew about this.

"uh- yeah, I am- we are..." he corrects, staring at the sand beneath him as you let out a giggle that always makes him smile

"well, I'll see you back at the cabin" you grin before spinning on your boots and walking back toward your horse, he wants to punch himself...but when he turns to see an awaiting Ciara, he wants to punch himself even more.

"Billy!" she calls out, he makes his way toward her, but after he turns and gets one last look at you.

an: thank you for requesting! I already talked about this, but I'll reiterate it again...because billys character would 100% break it to Ciara that he doesn't love her, but because he took something irreplaceable from her and she loves him he just feels too guilty. and he's also a mess around y/n because he knows it's awful to feel the way he feels about you, but he can't help it. SO, that's why he might seem a little ooc!! <333 ilysm! <333