#s like. cards against humanity

[checkadii]

I neeeeeed to game with people moreee but literally all I have is minecraft pressure regretevator l4d2 lethal stardew content warning monster prom(s) and sky maaaaaaan

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[auroralwriting]

poker face

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh

"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.

Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.

"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.

Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."

Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"

"What about me? What?"

"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.

Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."

You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."

"No," Rossi shook his head.

"Why not?" Emily frowned.

"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.

Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."

Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."

"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.

Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.

"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.

"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."

Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"

"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.

You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"

"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."

That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"

"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."

"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.

Oh, this was not what you expected at all.

Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.

The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.

"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."

"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"

Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."

The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"

"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.

"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."

Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.

Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.

"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.

The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."

"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."

"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.

"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.

"I'll call."

"Call?"

Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."

Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"

"That is just-- that is nuts."

It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.

You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.

The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.

"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.

"She's reaching for my chips!"

"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.

The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."

If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."

Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.

You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.

"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.

After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.

"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.

"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.

You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."

After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"

"I was playing my part," You argued.

"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"

"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."

Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."

"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.

"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.

Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."

"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"

Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."

Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.

Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."

"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.

"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.

"What do you think?" You retorted.

Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.

"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.

"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.

Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.

"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.

You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"

"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."

"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."

Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."

Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.

[undeadmagick]

Broke Boy Guide to Altar Offerings

Hey! Are you broke but still wanna offer something up to the gods? Don't worry! (So am i) So here's a guide of things that are either free, low cost or that you probably already own to slap onto those altars. Mind you: These are mainly modern offerings that I attribute to these different classification of gods. I'll likely update as time goes on with other classifications :)

General Offerings to Deities:

random flowers from outside

random sticks from outside

hand written letters/prayers

plushies of the animals they're connected to

raw/cooked meats as "sacrifices"

drawn symbols

Art/Creative Deities:

symbol painted bottle caps

pens/pencils/markers

old sketchbooks

stickers/prints

origami

comic books

figurines

Death Deities:

bones or meat from your meals

dirt from a dead plant

dying flowers

skull imagery

coins or other gifts for those passing

photo/belongings of your late loved ones

Familial/Household/Protector of Children Deities:

photobooth photos

jewelry gifted from family

baby teeth from your children

breast milk

old baby shoes

framed photo of family

cookies/bread

homecooked meals

Fire Deities:

birthday candles

charcoal discs

burnt herbs

alcohol

incense

tobacco

matchbox/lighter

Healing Deities:

your current medications

bandaids

water

skincare

vitamin gummies

spell jar in an empty pill bottle

Knowledge/Wisdom Deities:

old books & textbooks

pens/pencils

mini chess pieces

written down philosophical quotes

good test scores/report cards/degrees

Love/Lust Deities:

origami 3D hearts

chapsticks

unused makeup

love letters to deities

love letters about S/O or crush

current perfume/cologne

current lotions

apples

Nature Deities:

plants dedicated to them

herbal tea packets

feathers

milk

fruits/vegetables

spells using recycled materials (toilet paper rolls, etc.)

bread

acorns

Sea Deities:

beach sand

shells

sea water

tiny sea animal figurines

shared fish dinners

makeshift spell jar using a shell

Trickster Deities:

laffy taffy joke wrappers

cards against humanity packs

other comedy card games

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I love a good florist Steve, but what I love even more is a good but naturally bitchy florist Steve.

He'd have his own flower shop and years of dating experience behind his belt. He is not just a good boyfriend, he is THE good boyfriend. Going to his shop isn't just to buy a bouquet of flowers, oh no. It's a whole relationship coaching thing, he teaches husbands to do better, gives courage to teenagers asking their crushes out, gives advice regarding flower language to elderly ladies who just want to be slightly passive-aggressive...you know, the normal thing.

He has a catalogue with flower pictures to help people who have no idea what the flowers are called, they just know they were orange and didn't easily wilt.

He shows a local teenager the cheaper but still fancy options and throws in a bunch of free flowers that aren't really up to his standards. "Okay, you say she likes pink flowers. Does she like things to be a bit more decorated or does she prefer simplicity? You don't know? Okay, can you describe what she normally wears? No, I'm not being creepy, but you can sometimes tell the person's preferences from their clothes. Now answer or leave dateless."

He chats with the elderly ladies of Hawkins when they ask for a flower to gift to their fellow church ladies when they host their meetings. He cackles when he hears some of their orders. "Oh wow, Ethel, a yellow hyacinth? Would you like a gift card with that, something like sorry you're such a jealous hag? No? Of course I know the meaning, it's my job."

"Are you expeting her to say yes to the date with that atrocity on your face? Yes, I know it's a moustache. But it's also an atrocity. Shave it and thank me later. Now, would you like a ribbon for that bouquet?"

And most of all, he grills the unlucky conservative men in Hawkins who come to him for flowers for their wives without any idea what they like. "I see, so you want something pretty. What does your wife like? Flowers? Well, that's not specific. What kind of dresses does she wear? Expensive? Can you tell me anything about your wife's personality? ...nagging. No, I can't just mix something together, unlike you, I take pride in gift giving. Okay. I don't think this is a shop for you. Yes, that's what I'm saying, I won't play a part in your wife's disappointment. Oh sure, go take your money elsewhere, but I can give you this advice for free - you married a unique human being, so treat her like one. And if you really want a happy marriage - maybe come back when you learn something about her as a person. No need for that language, have a good day, sir."

For those that are more receptive, he goes through their partners' personalities and hobbies, suggesting date options and absolutely roasting the bad ones. "A football match. When your girlfriend hates sports. I don't care if it's your boys playing, you can try telling her that this is important to you and you'll take her out another time, but if you try to pass this as a date, you'll be single before you say "sorry". A date is for you as a pair, not for you only."

But the best thing his shop brings him is Eddie Munson, who sneaks in, absolutely ready to be roasted, and asks for a bouquet of bright colorful flowers for his best friend Chrissy. "She just got divorced from her asshole husband and I want to show her that she can have nice things. Platonically. But she deserves so much more. Uh...she really loves warm colors, so maybe yellows and oranges? What are they called...gerberas! She likes gerberas! And she likes things to be a bit messy and imperfect, so maybe some leaves there as well? A green ribbon would be nice."

And Steve just beams at him as he gets to work and says "Oh wow. Whoever your partner is, they are so lucky if you remember all of these things even for your friends. Makes a guy jealous."

Eddie just wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and mutters, "that position's sadly open. Has been for a while. Interested?" and he almost faints against the counter when Steve turns around.

Eddie is ready to run.

But Steve just fluffs his hair, reapplies his lipgloss and asks: "Where do I apply?"

[pookieace]

HAND HOLDING WITH THE GENSHIN MEN

contains : fem!reader, smut (yeah this is smutty not soft sry not sry <3 lmaooo), mentions of cervix fucking, size kink, tummy bulges, breeding / impregnation kink, creampies woohoo, oooh the praise in this has me going a lil insane tbh, some degradation too, lots of oral, fingering, soft doms *sniffles* my weakness. includes scenarios for zhongli, kaeya, dain, tighnari, xiao and childe. this is not proof read at all, please ignore any mistakes i will not be fixing them cause i'm lazy :D

i thought about this scenario with xiao and then i spiralled from there. sorry not sorry i needed to get this out of my system actually... i am so unwell bye. likes / reblogs are appreciated and feedback is always welcomed <3 minors dni !!

zhongli : oh he is so big. listen, everythingggggggg about him is big okay, he's literally a dragon like? his hands? big. height? bIG. cock(s)? BIIIIG and he thrives off being big. sinks his cock into you while being in a half dragon form just because his dick is bigger than his human form. golden horns on top of his head, the colour of his skin changing from his normal pale one to somewhat mixed. hues of black, orange, yellow and golden the further you travel down his body. his hands and fingers are slightly longer in this form. nails coloured black, almost resembling claws. he enjoys this form because it lets him keep his human-ness but it also embraces his past. his favourite form when you two get intimate because he wants to see your cunt struggle to take him. "there you go darling, takin' me in so well." he'd whisper as his tip pushes past your entrance, thumb rubbing against your clit. "loosen up for me, that's it." as your cunt begins to flutter around himjdhfhf aaaaa don't even get me started on the bulge he'd make in your tummy :( it's inevitable. he's just so damn big.

favourite position is you on your back, couple of pillows under your body and him holding your waist to raise your lower half off the bed, claws digging into the flesh of your waist as your cunt clenches around his cock. it's only when he's bottomed out and you're bucking your hips to signal him to move that he'd lace his fingers with yours. pins them above your head. have i mentioned zhongli's big? he's so big that he only really requires one hand to have both your wrists in his hold. daddy zhongli is so strong too, doesn't matter how much you move or thrash around when he fucks you, trying to get your wrists out of his hold so you can just touch him, he doesn't budge. waits for you to really beg, tears in your eyes as you sob out "please, please, please" will he soften up. intertwines his fingers with yours as he rocks his hips slower, but sooo deep. leans over to place a kiss to the top of your head while you thank him for letting go, and he does that every time when you two hold hands :( he's so <3 mm yeah best daddy me thinks.

kaeya : this man,, lord kayea is a wild card in my very humble opinion. he's a tease, we all know this. but i think sex to him is so intimate, especially when it's with someone he would give his heart to on a silver platter. he's like the perfect mix of tease and praise and degradation and somehow giving you what you need all at the same time? idk, just listen okay. the word tease might as well just be kaeya's middle name, he's just that good at it. he likes to hear you beg, plays dumb too. "hmm? my sweet little thing, you're so quiet. what did you say, i'm afraid i missed it." all the while he is knuckle deep into your cunt, fingers curling up juuuust right so they nudge your spot. but only just. he knows your body so well it's almost annoying. the curl of his fingers isn't enough to give you proper satisfaction but it is enough to have you crave for more. enough to make you gasp and buck your hips to try and get the satisfaction you need. "ah ah ah, don't be like that. i can't reward you if you're being a needy slut for me darling. use your words." starts withdrawing his fingers and ultimately you need to grab a hold of his wrist and b e g for him not to do that, beg for his touch. it makes his head go a little dizzy if i'm being honest. "there you go. that wasn't so hard now, was it?" and he gives you what you've been needing :( slender, pretty fingers pushing deeper into you till he physically can't anymore. letting them curl against your spongy spot and making you cum with a cry of his name liiike he thrives off teasing you and giving you what you want.

puts his dirty fingers in your mouth while he kisses your stomach, slowly kissing his way up your body (he is a romantic man after all) and makes sure to give your tits a squeeze too. grabs a hold of your chin to make you look at him as you let go of his fingers with a little pop and presses his lips to yours. it's a little messy, slippery and sloppy but you can feel how in love he is with you. spreads your thighs apart so he can press his hard on against your cunt while you kiss, tangles his fingers with yours while he ruts against your centre like he has all the time in the world :(( he takes it sooo slow, grinding against your cunt, the fabric of his boxers rubbing your clit so nicely, his lips against yours, giving your hands a little squeeze as you fiddle around with the elastic on his boxers. he just holds his body weight up with one hand, the other still tangled up with your fingers as you pull down the material just enough to have his cock out and while he fills you up nicely, he just tightens his hold on your hand cause you feel so tight around him every damn time <33

dainsleif : starting this off by saying he is SO touch starved. honorary member of the touched starved crew. he still gets so shy when he sees you naked in front of him no matter how long it's been. dain might look rough and tough on the outside, but he is so soft for you. he adores kisses your body. your lips? he kiss. your cheek? he kiss. top of your head or your nose? he kiss. inside of your wrist where he can get a slight wiff of your perfume? he kiss. but his favourite you may ask? his favourite type (aside from your lips) of kiss is when you're laid out on the bed. where he's between your legs and he's lifting your shirt off, placing kisses along your tummy, the valley of your breasts, then a gentle kiss underneath your earlobe before he's tossing your shirt to the side and making his way down your body again. this time, he places kisses to both your ankles once your pants are off, kissing up both your legs and your thighs. the last kiss he places is to your clit before his thumb presses against your nub, gentle circular motions that already have you seeing stars. dain rests his head against your thigh as he teases and rubs your clit over and over, watching how your hole clenches around nothing.

"always so pretty for me, aren't you?" another soft kiss to your upper thighs that have you wanting to shut your legs at how sensitive you feel. "keep 'em open, that's it. there you go." he'd say, your trembling thighs spreading once again. he's not the best with words of affection but he'll be damned if he doesn't praise you, let you know how pretty you are. how good you are for him. and when your hands clutch his hair and the bedsheets the closer you get to your orgasm, he'd bring the one that was holding the bedsheets closer to his mouth – dain places a kiss to your wrist, to the tips of your fingers before he slides his fingers against it and lets you grip it. he enjoys holding your hand so much while he does this, i cannot stress that enough. he likes it when you feel real. and it's only then, will he place his mouth on your cunt, letting his tongue tease your folds and dipping into your hole to really get a taste of you. feeling a sense of pride when you gasp and whimper out his name, tightening your hold on his hand as the other one still in his hair, buries his face deeper into your pussy.

tighnari : furry king he's so cute, sighs. like kaeya, sex for him is very very intimate with someone he loves. it's not about getting off, it's more so about the gentle touches, the praises that come from both your lips and his, it's about the way you two latch onto each other when you make love and he will die on that hill. yes every now and then, his animalistic urges take over and it is about a quick fuck but more often than not, he likes to explore your body. he loves it when you're straddling him. his favourite thing to do is feel you up while the both of you kiss. even though tighnari takes it slow, his movements almost feel rushed, desperate to have your clothes off. but it's the gentle kind of desperate, you know? where he wants you to be naked so he can appreciate every dip and every curve on your body without any flimsy layers of clothing in the way. hearts in his eyes even though it's the nth time he's seen you naked. you're wearing nothing, seated on his lap while his eyes dart all over your body, never really able to linger on one part for too long. admires how out of breath you are just from a make-out, lips slightly swollen and pinker than usual. continues to place kisses against your jawline to your neck as his hands grope your hips and thighs, eventually one hand inching closer and closer to your heat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you feel the pad of his thumb finally brush against your clit. "feels good?" he'd mumble against your skin, ears twitching with excitement every time you let out more content noises followed by a soft "yes."

tighnari's good with his fingers, great in fact. he pays attention to your body, listening to every noise and taking mental note of how your body squirms in his hold as he touches you – he's so good that your hands don't really know where they should go. sometimes digging into the skin of his shoulders or his biceps. sometimes when he hasn't riled you up to where the only replies he wets are broken whimpers, they're in tighnari's hair, patting just behind his ears which has him rutting his hips against you, or sometimes they're just tangled in his locks tightly as you need to feel something to ground you. but tighari's favourite is when you plead him for his hand. the little taps against his bicep or wrist make his heart melt, followed by the "hold me, please." it almost makes the animal in him want to manhandle you, toss you on the bed and pin you there while his cock is hitting your cervix and you can't do anything but lay there and just take it. but the rational part of him tells him no. the rational part of him brings your hand to his lips, places a kiss to each and every one of your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours, all while his other hand is buried knuckle deep in your cunt and being soaked with your juices.

xiao : he is very very very desperate with how he holds your hands. it's more so to remind himself that you're there with him, that you're real. he's a very passionate lover, how could he not be after eons and eons of thinking he's alone? of eons and eons of being alone. he's also a honorary member of the touched starved crew god he is so DJKFDHJGKD i'm so in love w him <333 he just wants to please you okay? like. all the time. every day. whenever you ask him or hint at it, he's ready to give you anything you want. he would do aaaaaanything for you to be honest. he's not very good with words, he knows he's terrible with words. but what he lacks vocally, he makes up for it with his actions instead. slow, but deliberate. almost like he's forgotten all those little stripes and freckles on your skin even though he's been memorising every dip and every mark whenever you two get intimate. gentle, barely there touches while he takes your clothes off, ghosts his fingertips over your pussy and breasts at first. likes it when you inhale sharply but he does give in. he's not much of a tease like kaeya is, gives in so quick. "'m gettin' there. just wait." he'd grumble, but there's no bite behind it all all. places a kiss to your hip bone before he spreads your legs and laps your cunt like a starved man. he's so good with his tongue, i can't stress that enough. another man who makes sure you've came on his tongue or fingers before he thinks about fucking you. the thing about xiao is, he gets pussy drunk so quick, and so very easily. the second he hears you let out a sigh of satisfaction after his mouth is on you, he's gone.

he's soo gone. xiao is an adepti, he's much stronger than humans. it's super easy for him to hold your body down with his hands, whether they be on you waists or even hooked around your thighs, he's not moving his mouth off you until he feels your hole clenching and gushing. or unless you're trying to pry his head off cause you "wan' be filled, please xiao!" flips you onto your back and makes sure your face is pressed into the mattress and your ass is up ohh my goddjghf yeah,, fucks you like that actually, he's pussy drunk. let him bury his cock in your cunt any way he wants plssss. he may not be long, but fuck is he thick. makes you clench the bedsheets while your noises are muffled out by the bed but :( xiao needs to hear you – tugs your back flush against his chest, makes his cock go even deeper in you that you're going dizzy and you're even more dizzier when you feel his fingers on your clit aaaa. firm believer xiao uses one hand too rub your clit while the other turns your head towards him so he can kiss you :(( he loves kissing you so much when you're fucking, tries to kiss you every time before you cum on his cock. it's so romantic for him. feels you cum around his cock and he's trying to hold back a groan but but but that's when he moves his hand that was on your clit to hold yours :( still kissing you too till he orgasms and spills his cum deeep in you and makes out with you for a couple of minutes. doesn't really care how sloppy it is, he just likes kissing you while you hold hands like that :((

childe : listen... childe is actually so romantic (we'll get there soon) i dunno about you. hand holding is his middle name, it's true i've seen the birth certificate. a romantic, mean perv is the best way to describe him. such a tease too. he won't give you what you need till he sees tears in your eyes or you actually start crying. he's kinda mean about it too. gets you sooo close to an orgasm only to just rip it away. "nawww, you cryin sweets?" and proceeds to lick your tears away. "don't cry, you pretty thing. gonna give you what you need, 'kay? just lay back f'me. there you go." smiles darkly when you listen to him again and lay your body flat against the bed again while shaking. and he just keeps doing that until you're full blow sobbing. "aj– ha– 'jax! please.. can' take it a'more... need to c-cum please." and watches you grip his wrists while you cry. it sets him off. he loves that you can get so pathetic for him :( some days when he's made you cry by not letting you cum, his favourite this is having you on top. just to add a little bit more humiliation into the mix. lays down first and gets all comfy without telling you what he's doing and just pats his lap. "not gonna get over here? thought you wanted to cum." has you scrambling over and once you're straddling him he'd put his hands on your thighs and just stroke them since they're shaking so much. but gives them a little slap, just enough for there to be a sound but not enough to hurt when he feels you try to lift your hips to take his cock in "relax baby. didn't i say i'm gonna give you what you need?" hhhh and when your thighs have calmed down and he's made your lips all swollen from kissing you so much will he lift your hips for you, letting you guide his cock into your hole and gives you time to get used to the stretch when he's bottomed out.

while you're taking your time and breathing whilst trying to hold back the orgasm that's approaching once being filled up, he'd let his fingertips trail up your arm, hand cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb along your lash line to gather the tears that haven't fallen yet and makes you suck the saltiness away from his thumb... and that makes his cock twitch in you. doesn't let you move though, wants to see how ruined you look before he's even fucked you right. and once he's admired you enough he'd go "c'mere sweets." and proceeds to hold out his hand for you. coos at how your hand is sooo tiny in his though. and he lets his other arm wrap your lower back, essentially he has you resting your head against his tits while you two hold hands. it's gentle, a contrast to how he was being mean to you earlier. as you grind on his cock and the little tufts of hair on his lower tummy make you cum around his cock, he brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of your hand and bucks his hips up into your pussy to get to his high. but the thing is, once ajax feels soft like this, he'd just keep you above him, kiss you and keep holding your hands till he's hard again and fuck you till your lower halves are all messy and sticky.

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason _ Part 3

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 (here)

“Sung Jinwoo is an S-Rank Hunter…”

“Another one…”

“It’s been 2 years since Cha Hae-In too.”

Nowadays, the emergence of an S-Rank Hunter and some A-Rank Hunters was like a demon had crawled out of hell and into the human world to cause destruction. Strong Hunters were seen and painted as a double-edged sword. On one hand, they could bring about peace to normal—non-awakened—individuals by closing gates and raiding dungeons. On the other hand, they could bring about destruction in their wake due to <Outrage> and the innocence would be harmed. 

Protocols like an awakened Hunter must report to the EMI instead of the Hunter Association because they have to keep track of stronger Hunters. Hunters must continuously measure their mana levels in case of a reawakening into a higher rank. It was unavoidable, no matter which country, because they prioritized ordinary people more. 

Perhaps the only place where EMI regulations can’t touch is America. After what Thomas Andre had done, he singlehandedly protected his fellow Hunters and announced to the EMI that they couldn’t have their way with people who worked to protect them from the dangers known as gates and dungeons. There were some Hunters that escaped to America to join Thomas and his stance, there were also some that were unluckily caught by the EMI, and some that didn’t do anything. Such is the sway of a National Level Hunter. 

Unlike Thomas, who had no weaknesses to use against, Jinwoo was different. His family, his mother and younger sister, were dependent on the society and their system. So, against his better judgement, Jinwoo bowed to the whims of the EMI and was taken in as SM-10. 

In the facility, he underwent several tests to draw a profile for him since he was fundamentally different from his E-Rank file. Anyone could see at a glance. Jinwoo kept his cards hidden because the more capable he was, the greater the danger his loved ones would be in. He was doing everything for his family. Upon capture, he was promised that his family would receive financial support so long as he behaved himself. 

A cowardly but effective threat and compromise that he agreed. 

Still, he hated the people who worked in this accursed building. All those labourers who hid behind a mask and voice changer donned uniforms that displayed their station. Throughout his days, he observed a few groups of workers. 

First was the type that he frequently came into contact with: Guard. As their station name, they guarded things, from equipment to rooms and even Hunter cells. They were the ones that handled conflict and violence, even the heavy lifting, if any. Those who were higher ranked were called Warden; however, he only saw them during his testing sessions when they were making his profile. They all wear black masks—Warden’s mask is black with a white scratch mark over the right eyehole—and black soldier uniforms.

Second was the type that constantly changes to the point he doesn’t even keep track of: Supervisor. Contrary to their high-standing title, they do the smallest and most insignificant tasks, like delivering supplies, checking Hunter cells, and being an owl so passing messages. They were low-ranking workers that most wouldn’t bat an eye to if gone. Perhaps that’s why they have a grey uniform and a grey mask. Their code went as high as the hundreds, going to the thousands. 

Third was the type that he hated most: Investigator or Researcher. They were the ones who administered the tests and punishments to the Hunters, and they monitored them inside their cell. Under their glances, a Hunter is reduced to a mere lab rat. They were individuals connected to the EMI but needed to be more important to make a—any—difference in the building. However, they were respected in some sense because some did aim for the betterment of the Hunters staying in the building. They wear a white mask with a mocking grin and a white uniform, complete with a lab coat.

Last was the type that intrigued him the most: Personnel. Though their code suggests they have people in the hundreds, there was actually only a handful of them in the building. The highest number he saw was 12. They were the ones with the most authority and well-respected individuals among the other groups, their work and station varied from individual to individual. They were the ones that stayed in the building the longest, and a new Personnel would only join their ranks if they carried confidential information about the EMI. 

One would notice there doesn’t seem to be a highest position or individual, but the Personnel were the ones who acted as the say of the facility. None had absolute power to keep each other in check, and in case a threat was targeted, if one fell, the other would continue in the other’s place. The smaller the number, the bigger their authority, it seems. 

Personnel 001 was once his observer during the tests, when he could let loose. After all the observation and boredom, Jinwoo accidentally killed them and was quickly restrained. He paid close attention to what happened. Would another observe him? Would there be a new Personnel in their ranks? What would happen?

Turns out, you happened.

Personnel’s clothing is ever-changing. They have free reign over what they want to wear; needless to say, they have no uniform. They only have to wear a lab coat over their usual outfits, and that’s it. One could mistake them for Investigators, but the distinct code would be shown on their coat at the area over their heart. They have a white mask with reflective black glasses covering their eyeholes. 

Yet when you came in, you were void of that mask that hides one’s expression and face. Still, your poker face was impressive. You appeared expressionless and reminded him of a doll. You neither introduced yourself nor showcased your station, different from Personnel 001, who was practically shouting at him that they were the ones in power in this facility. At first glance, he knew you were different from all the rest. 

“You’re hiding your cards. SM-10.” Your words held knowledge and confidence, stating a fact rather than questioning him. Your arm hugged a black clipboard with a small stack of papers clipped while your other hand held a pen. If you weren’t wearing a lab coat, you’d appear like a strict teacher or lab researcher.

He couldn’t help but let a smile spread over his lips, “What makes you think that?”

“You’re holding back.” You turned to the Guards stationed within the cell to leave you alone. Yes, a Personnel has the authority to be alone with a Hunter, but if it were a Supervisor, they must be with at least two to three Guards. “You killed Personnel 001, why? Be honest.”

There was a shine in your eyes that he noticed. He couldn’t tell what it was, though he wanted to be coy. “You’re not the only ones observing. Why not make it mutual?”

That was his first meeting with you. 

With his Shadows, he watched you and your daily activities. You were practically glued to your work; you came to work early but left late. You have a good relationship with the other coworkers, and most respect you, evident by the nodding heads you receive in the hallways. You also seem to care for Hunters in their cells, inspecting the cell quality and making things more bearable for Hunters like him. 

Thanks to him, more and better changes happened after Personnel 001 was removed. By then, he figured out that whether it was a company setting or a guild setting, 001 was the guild master, and you were the vice master. Once 001 was gone, you had more authority and implemented changes, of course, with the agreement of your other Personnel co-workers. 

In that case, that makes you a lot more interesting. You realized his strength and power, you wanted an improved and more sophisticated place for Hunter, different from how the facility was supposed to be, and you have been treating everyone human. 

Jinwoo concluded that he wanted to stay and get closer to you. With you in charge, his family was practically safe as well. He’ll stay and protect your spot at the top. Yet why were you pushing him away? It infuriated him. Still, he was thankful for the other Personnels’ fear over setting an S-Rank loose in public that he could prove to you how wrong you were to fight for his release.

While showing his point, he reduced the Personnel to perhaps 6 remaining—that already includes you. From 12 to 6, he cut off 4, and then there was 001 as well, so one Personnel died through other means. Either way, he made his point.

You were the only Personnel he liked and could resolve his <Outrage>.

That already bound you to him, and none would harm you unless they wanted the country to fall to ruins. 

The two of you share secrets, and slowly, he got you to open up, showing only him a side of you that you hide behind an invisible mask. You’re the only one for him, he’ll make it so that he’s the only one for you. 

He realized that his emotions and feelings for you turned a bit twisted over time. That Guard 149 that stared at you a little too long? Their leg was somehow caught between the double doors, so they can’t work here anymore, right? That Investigator 083 that was standing so close to you that your arms were touching? An experiment backfired and their arms were amputated. Another Guard that is coded 761 was asking you out? They got into a car accident and died. 

Jinwoo was careful. You never pointed fingers at him nor suspected it was him at all. You were very naive and innocent; he loves that about you. You care for your workers, yet at the same time, you also don’t. He got his answer when he finally communicated with the other S-Rank Hunters during the end of the Jeju Raid.

“Personnel 002? Oh, I’d say that person cares about Hunters more.”

“Haha, Personnel 002 has been very accommodating, unlike the other ones.”

“You can’t compare Personnel 002 with the others, it’s not a fair comparison.”

“I always enjoy my time with Personnel 002.”

“You’re lucky SM-10, I wish I could have Personnel 002 come to my place often.”

The other S-Rank Hunters only had good things to say about you. As expected, you were biased against Hunters and silently helped them more. Though, he was more enraptured to hear you giving him special care and attention. In private, his smile grew wide as he chuckled to himself. “Ah… You’ll be the death of me… Personnel 002.”

Note: Ta da! Part 3's out and this is Jinwoo's side of the story, if it wasn't obvious to you!! A bit of boring history, but it's what it is~ Hope you guys liked this one!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars @skylar896 @forbidden-sunlight @waka-babe @soft-dots @iamapotatoe @hvnweeps @amayakurusu13

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost w/ a Zombie! S/O

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Descriptions of Smut, Ghost Losing His Mind, Implied Unprotected Sex, Parasitism, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

We’ve all heard of Zombie! Ghost with a human companion, but consider the inverse: human! Ghost who is afflicted with a human s/o who has the virus.

He keeps you locked up in his basement, coming to feed you any meat he can find. Anything to stave off your inevitable rot.

Simon sits with you, talks with you, tries to remind you of who he is – who you were.

Sometimes, he’s sure he can see the glimmer of recognition in your eyes. Others, he’s almost certain he’s lost you entirely.

There are times where he misses your touch, your gasps, the way you would call his name whenever he gave himself to you.

His deepest secret is that he still thinks he can hear you now. Now, as he has your mouth gagged and arms bound, balls-deep inside you, pumping his hips against yours.

He calls your name, thinks he can hear you call his back, looks you dead in the eyes while he’s making love to you.

You still take him so well despite how cold you are. You bring him to a spasming, throbbing, white-hot end that leaves his voice straining, crying your name amidst the throes of his orgasm, his head hanging in the crook of your shoulder while he empties his load inside you.

He half expects your hands to card through his hair, for your lips to meet the sweat-soaked skin of his forehead, for your face to light up with a hazed smile when his eyes find yours.

When he looks down at you, though, panting and pushing himself up onto muscular arms, he sees none of that. Feels none of that.

Your eyes are milky and you writhe beneath him, trying to unbind your hands to grab him, scratch him — anything.

He can see you gnawing on the rope about your mouth, no doubt the sensation of his skin between your teeth on your parasite-infested mind.

He knows he’s utterly mangled. His mind won’t let you go.

And neither will he.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[redvexillum]

Well, this was just asking for a companion piece to my other two story C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X, so thank you for that. I dedicate this story to @kewpikayo. Listen, I dedicated yesterday's story to your wife, it only makes sense this story should be dedicated to you - after all, Dew & Kew FOREVER! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, alastor is dom, reader is sub, pain kink, reader is masochistic, alastor is sadistic, bad BDSM etiquette, no safe word, no after care, blood play, biting, spanking, rough ☆ral s☆x, p in v, c☆m outside, c☆m eating, implied period-typical racism

✨️ Companion piece to C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X. This story is the origin of where it all started. ✨️

A low, irritated growl simmered in Alastor’s throat as he watched you—Daddy’s sheltered little girl—stumble back, arms flailing as the load you carried slipped from your grip. You landed unceremoniously on the ground, the papers and boxes you’d been carrying spilling around you like fallen leaves. The sight was exasperating, yet all too familiar; he wasn’t sure whether to sigh, sneer, or simply walk away. 

Instead, he felt his left eye twitch as he forced his grin wider, an increasingly tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Each muscle in his face strained against his better judgment, but he bent down, begrudgingly extending a hand to help you up. 

And there it was: the way your cheeks bloomed crimson as you looked up at him, hesitantly taking his hand as if touching him was some kind of privilege. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have thrived on this—the adoration, the bashful flush, the clear admiration in your eyes that so many others had shown him. The mere idea of having another fan should’ve filled him with smug satisfaction. But not this time. 

No, there was one pesky fact that dulled the thrill. 

From the beginning, breaking into the radio world had been an uphill battle. The station was his dream, and to make it a reality, he’d had to secure an investor. But with his humble roots, Alastor had needed more than a charming smile; he needed money, power, and someone with influence willing to back a stranger like him. And so he’d found himself entangled with a wealthy patron—a man who agreed to fund him… under one condition. 

He had to hire you.

You. 

His patron’s clumsy, insipid little daughter, the perpetual thorn in his side. Each time he thought he’d seen every mistake a person could make, you’d invent a new one, blundering through tasks with astonishing incompetence. His nerves frayed more with every passing day as he forced himself to breathe, to smile, to tell you gently that "everyone makes mistakes." The words tasted like rot in his mouth. 

Alastor considered himself a patient man. A forgiving man. But everyone has their limits. 

And you, quite simply, were his. 

He took a slow, seething breath, plotting as he felt the spark of a plan take root. If he could get you to quit on your own, perhaps he could still keep the funding—maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even sway your father to his side without the added irritation of watching you trip over your damn feet every three steps. 

So he began to freeze you out. Day after day, he kept his distance, watching from the corner of his eye as you struggled on, hoping his chilly demeanour would drive you away. But you were far too talkative, your relentless cheer slipping through the cracks of his carefully crafted mask. Every time he steeled himself to ignore you, there you were, talking at length about how much you loved his show, how much his puns and wordplay made you laugh, how his humour lifted your spirits. 

The way your eyes sparkled when you praised him—it should have been satisfying. Instead, it was infuriating. 

Yet, against his better judgment, he found himself responding. Something in the glint of your smile made his guarded grin relax, if only for a moment. Begrudgingly, he’d join in, rolling his eyes at your endless enthusiasm but unable to entirely dismiss it. It was as if you were some parasitic creature, a leech drawing life from him, clinging on with no intention of letting go. 

And he endured—patient, calculating, waiting for you to tire of him. 

But then came the last straw. His beloved broadcast, his dream, was starting to slip through his fingers. Listeners dropped off, each patron he had worked tirelessly to convince backed out one by one. Every investment vanished like smoke. And with it, his patience thinned to a knife’s edge, fraying with each setback. Months of self-restraint, of resisting his baser urges, of refraining from any “extracurricular activities” in favour of keeping his show alive, felt like sacrifices crumbling underfoot. 

And he blamed you. 

Though in truth, your mistakes weren’t drastic enough to ruin his business, but they were enough to tear away at his sanity: the times you forgot to pick up his dry cleaning, spilled coffee on his meticulously crafted script—one he knew by heart—or neglected to take his typewriter in for maintenance, forcing him to painstakingly handwrite his next segment. Small annoyances, but they added up, each one tightening the coil of irritation within him. 

Today, though, something snapped. It started with a simple spill, water glistening on the polished wooden floor of his office. As you bent down to hurriedly wipe it, your hand brushed against his glass vase, sending it crashing to the ground in a cascade of shattered crystal. The shards sparkled around you, a mocking reflection of the life he felt slipping into chaos. 

In one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands braced beside your head, his body pressing close. He could feel the heat radiating from you, his knee slipping between your legs, lifting just enough to keep you fixed in place. The room felt smaller, the air charged with something he couldn’t name, something that sent a thrill down his spine as he watched the flush creep up to your cheeks. 

“I have never met anyone as clumsy and foolish as you,” he murmured, his voice low, menacing. Though his mouth held its trademarked grin, his eyes burned, dark and narrowed, a storm barely restrained. 

“Ah, u-uhm,” you stammered, your eyes darting away, body trembling before him. 

“Look. At. Me.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up, so your gaze was locked with his. 

Deep down, Alastor knew he was risking everything. You were untouchable—Daddy’s little girl from a family of wealth and power, far beyond his own background. He knew what one accusation could do, one tear sent running back to your father. His dream, his work, his station—he could lose it all before he could snap his fingers, hah! 

But right now, the months of mounting irritation, of resisting every impulse, of pushing down every dark urge—none of it seemed to matter. 

“So-sorry, s-sir,” you whispered, a helpless apology on your lips. And at that moment, something snapped within him. The rush of power, the slight tremor in your voice, the glimmer of fear in your eyes—it was intoxicating. 

His fingers itched with desire, a pulse of longing, dark and primal. 

He wanted to choke you, see the life dull from your eyes, kill you. 

It had been so long since he’d indulged, felt the thrill of being in control, of bending someone to his will. Slowly, his hand slipped down, brushing along the column of your neck, fingers tracing the soft, vulnerable skin. 

Just a small squeeze. Just a taste.

The moment his hand rested there, he felt the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips, sensed the quick rise and fall of your breath. Your pupils widened, darkening with something that wasn’t just fear, and he nearly laughed at the realization. 

You were… enjoying this. 

“Was it all on purpose, dear?” His voice dropped to a dark murmur, lips just a breath away from your ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of you. “Did you want this to happen? Have you been fantasizing about this with me?” His leg shifted, pressing upward, his knee sliding dangerously close to the warmth of your core, your skirt sliding higher as he held you in place. 

There was no escape for you, nowhere to look but at him, and he could hear your heart pounding louder, a heat blooming that had nothing to do with fear. The line between his anger and desire blurred, each breath he shared with you pulled him deeper into something he couldn’t resist. 

“Did you want to be punished by me?” Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he held you there, watching your every response. The softest moan slipped from your lips, unbidden, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin. 

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “How utterly deviant, depraved, you are.” He leaned closer, his lips barely grazing the edge of your ear. Every sound, every whisper, heightened the tremble in your muscles as your body gave in to his hold. 

Alastor felt the thrum of his own pulse, a deep, carnal need that was building to an undeniable point. He’d known desire before, but never this tangled web of control and raw hunger that he felt with you pinned so willingly beneath him. 

To his dark amusement, he felt the tightening in his pants as he took in every inch of your flushed, submissive form. You were an enticing little thing, and now, the line he’d never meant to cross was beginning to blur. 

A tempting thought crossed his mind. “If I fulfill your desire, will you fulfill mine, dear?” His voice was a low, velvet promise as he pressed his knee firmly against your core, feeling the heat of you even through the fabric. His grin grew, an expression laced with a dangerous delight. “How utterly sinful you are, hiding that desire under a mask of innocence.” 

“I-I would do anything you’d like, sir,” you whispered, breath hitching, your hands glued to your side.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, Alastor pulled back, though he didn’t allow enough distance for you to look away—or see the intensity of his arousal pressing through his trousers. 

“Let me give you what you want,” he murmured. “One good, hard fuck, and I,” his voice turned sweet as he tilted his head, his gaze narrowing with intent, “want you to quit for good, after ensuring that Daddy keeps his generous funding for me.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, a mockingly gentle caress. “What do you say, dear? Do we have a deal?” 

You hesitated, looking into his eyes, the flush of your cheeks deepening as your lip caught between your teeth. “Hard f-fuck?” you stuttered, voice soft yet bold, your fingers hovering near his chest before you finally dared to touch him, briefly tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “You don't find that strange?” 

Alastor didn't care how unusual your desire was. As long as he got what he wanted at the end, that was all that mattered to him. 

The end always justified the means. 

A dark laugh slipped from him, and he tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, fingers pulling enough to tip your head back as he leaned in. He pressed himself against you, his hardness now unmistakable against your stomach, his lips grazing yours in the lightest, tantalizing tease. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he commanded softly, releasing his hold on you just enough to let his thumb trail down your lip as he took a small step back, watching you. “Now,” his voice dropped to a dark whisper, “strip.” 

To his delight, you hesitated, only for a heartbeat. Your cheeks flushed in that shade of pretty pink he found almost as irresistible as your trembling compliance. But then, slowly, you began undoing the buttons of your blouse, your fingers shaking slightly as you slipped the fabric from your shoulders, baring yourself to his gaze. 

Heat surged in his veins, not only from the sight of you, but from the delicious power thrumming in his veins. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was control, a feeling as heady as the thrill of holding someone’s life in his hands. 

But tonight, he was going to savour every second of holding you in the palm of his hand. 

As your clothes slipped away, one by one, you stood bare before him, your skin glistening in the dim light, the cool air teasing your erect nipples. He stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels against the polished wood. “Someone might come in, dear; are you aware of that? I left the door unlocked, after all.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee.

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked nervously to the doorknob, before you paled, realizing it was indeed unlocked. You had no idea that his workers had all quit once they heard wind of the investors backing out. 

Yet, you stood your ground, your eyes meeting his with a potent mix of fear and unyielding resolve. There was a trust there—a dangerous, intoxicating trust—that he knew he didn’t deserve but was all too willing to take. 

“Kneel,” he commanded, and your knees hit the floor without hesitation. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he closed the distance, his hips thrusting forward enticingly. “Show me just how much you want it, dear.” His voice was sultry and low, coaxing you into surrender. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and pants, pulling them down to reveal his half-hard cock, thick and waiting for you. 

You inhaled sharply, before you pressed your lips to the tip while looking up at him, waiting for his next command. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed, “Tongue out,” he added, and your tongue slipped out from your lips, eager to please him. 

With a firm grip on your hair, he guided your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. A low, primal groan escaped him, echoing off the walls of the office. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in such raw pleasure, and the thrill of having complete control over you heightened his arousal. This was not the gentle foreplay he was used to; this was a deliciously crude act of dominance that made his heart race. 

He couldn’t help but imagine how his mother would disapprove of his treatment of you. But you craved this, wanted him in ways that thrilled and terrified you both. It felt like a dark dance of power—a beautiful, twisted exchange that neither of you could resist. 

With each thrust, he lost himself deeper in your warmth, the sensation of your soft, wet mouth engulfing him driving him to the edge. He revelled in the control he wielded, in the way you surrendered to his desires, your submission stoking the one lukewarm drive within him. 

The best part of this exchange? He was going to remain on top, remain in control, remain in power, both in the deal struck and the way he devoured you. 

When he called you depraved, a deviant, your heart sank. Deep down, you knew it was true; your desires were unconventional, perhaps even strange. You had been with other men before, yet none had ever come close to scratching the itch that Alastor stirred within you. 

Every word he spoke about you rang true. Yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, you often found yourself lost in naughty, impure thoughts about him. Still, you yearned to keep those thoughts hidden, for working for him had become the highlight of your months. 

For once, you felt needed, desired, and useful—feelings that seemed to vanish the moment you returned home, where you faced the disappointment of your parents after yet another failed meeting with a suitor. The worry etched on their faces suggested they feared you might become a spinster.

The thought of Alastor wanting you to quit stung. It felt as if your dreams were crumbling around you, and the realization that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings hurt more than you cared to admit. But if you could have him for the first and last time, you wanted it to be an unforgettable memory. 

What Alastor would never realize was that you would never allow your father to withdraw his support from him financially. You loved his show genuinely, and you wanted to see him succeed and thrive. You believed in him wholeheartedly, confident that one day he would achieve the success he deserved, so he wouldn’t have to bargain for your father’s backing. 

As his hot, heavy cock filled your mouth, you felt a rush of heat flush through your body. You gagged slightly when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, a combination of pleasure and slight panic washing over you. The salty taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and you glanced up, seeing Alastor’s eyes closed in pure ecstasy. His fingers gripped your hair, the pressure varying as he slowly rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. 

Each time you choked on him, you felt the violent twitch of his cock, and a small, heady low moan from him. It seemed he relished the sounds you made, and you focused on creating a tight seal around him, sucking with all the enthusiasm you could muster. But the bliss was abruptly cut short when he pulled your hair, yanking you off his cock. A glistening strand of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, then fell, leaving a tiny droplet on the floor. 

“Messy girl,” he teased, and you could see the hard anger in his eyes fade, replaced by a gleam of something more raw and animalistic. He was enjoying this, and your heart raced at the thought. “Always making a mess of all my things.” His gaze flickered to the shattered vase on the floor, but thankfully, none of the fragments had reached where you knelt. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Your shoulders jumped as you looked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so—” But before you could finish, he thrust his cock back down your throat. You gagged again, tears springing to your eyes as you grasped at his thighs for stability. 

The struggle for breath was real, but Alastor didn’t relent, pushing deeper until your vision blurred from the lack of air. You fought to breathe through your nose, panic mingling with arousal. Just when you thought you might pass out, he finally pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, your body bowed low as coughs escaped your lips, mixed with tears and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

“I should punish you, shouldn’t I?” Alastor purred, his voice smooth like silk as he sauntered over to the single-seat couch in the corner of his office. His cock stood proudly, glistening with your saliva, an inviting sight that made your heart race. He patted his knee, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. “Come.” 

A flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation filled you as you quickly stood up, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you approached him. When you reached him, your stomach flipped with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, settling on your slick folds, and he hummed a low note of approval. Slowly, he extended his hand, sliding a finger between your inner folds before teasingly flicking your sensitive clit. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you doubled over, almost collapsing onto his lap. You could see the wicked glint in his eyes as he observed the slickness on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, tasting you. “Hmm,” he hummed, a smirk played on his lips. “Lay on my lap, stomach down.”

Your mind spun with a mix of confusion and apprehension. You complied, laying across his lap, your gaze dropping to the floor, heart racing. You felt the heat of his hard cock pressing against your side, and his hand began to stroke the gentle curve of your ass, sending sparks of desire coursing through you. 

“Have you ever been punished before, my dear?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing yet serious. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Have you ever been spanked before?” he corrected himself with a soft chuckle. 

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head. “N-no, my mama and papa never laid a hand on me like that,” you admitted quietly, unsure where Alastor was going with this. 

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he mused, his hand continuing to caress your ass, fingers grazing your drenched folds. The teasing touch was just enough to send waves of heat pooling in your core, igniting a desperate need within you. You wanted him to delve deeper, to flick your clit until you were begging for release. 

“Let me give you a lesson on what we do to spoiled princesses,” Alastor remarked, his voice dripping with mock cheer. 

Before you could utter a word, you felt a sharp slap against your left cheek. The sting radiated through you, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure that made tears prick at your eyes. You stifled a cry, fingers clenching at his pants in a desperate bid for control. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of any sympathy, only curiosity. 

You nodded vigorously, the truth washing over you. 

“Excellent,” he replied, a smirk curling at his lips before he raised his hand again, delivering another sharp slap to the same spot. The pain was intense, yet thrilling, and you felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as your body reacted in ways you never thought it could. 

Before you could beg him to stop, you felt his fingers plunge deep into your core, rubbing and massaging against your walls. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly morphing into a heady moan as your body instinctively wiggled, seeking more of his touch. The slick sound of his fingers squelching inside you mixed with your cries, blending the initial pain into a dizzying rush of pleasure. 

Suddenly, an insatiable hunger ignited within you. You hadn’t realized how exquisitely pain and pleasure could intertwine. “Please, sir, m-more,” you mewled, unable to hold back the desperate need spilling from your lips as you turned your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the heady blend of emotions and sensations. 

Alastor’s fingers stilled inside you, his eyes darkening as they traced over your expression, drinking in your vulnerability. The corners of his lips twitched with satisfaction, and you felt the heat of his cock twitching insistently against your side. In a swift motion, he withdrew his fingers, pulling you up and manoeuvring you to straddle his lap. 

Blood rushed to your head, the dull ache of arousal amplifying every sensation. Your breath hitched as you felt the thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. With a firm pull, he sank you down onto him, filling you completely to the hilt. 

A scream tore from your throat, a mix of shock and bliss as the delicious stretch enveloped you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sharp, heat of pleasure as his cock throbbed against your walls. The arousal only mounted as Alastor leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

Moments later, he opened his darkened eyes. His fingers released your hips, and he commanded, “Move.” 

You hesitated, adjusting to his size, then began to lift yourself up, savouring the emptiness he left behind before sinking back down onto him again. The rhythm felt exhilarating as you rode him, bare and exposed before his hungry gaze. 

His hands found their way to your nipples, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, teasing your areolas with gentle circles. The electric pleasure shot through you, urging you to move faster, each rise and fall sending jolts of pleasure through your body. As you sank back down, he pinched your nipples hard, the sensation exploding through you. 

A sharp cry escaped your lips, mingling with a wave of decadent arousal that crashed over you. Desperation consumed you as you began to grind against his hip, your clit pulsing with need, craving attention, longing for the release that only he could provide. 

“My, you certainly do handle pain in quite a strange way,” Alastor said, his breath coming in heavy, lust-filled gasps as his hips jerked up against you. “Though—hah—I can’t say that I dislike it,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. 

He pulled your body forward, pressing his face between the soft, inviting curves of your breasts. His hips took full control, pistoning his thick cock deep inside you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, rising in a staccato rhythm that matched the desperate cries spilling from your lips. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your breast, and you felt a delicious blend of pain and elation that blurred the lines of your pleasure. 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as he bit down harder, his hunger for you evident in the fierce way he held you. Finally, he let go, his breath hot and ragged as he revealed his lips stained crimson with your blood. 

Your heart raced as you looked down, seeing the deep teeth mark oozing with warmth. His tongue flicked across his lower lip, savouring the taste of you as he pressed you even deeper onto his cock. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, the sound raw and primal. 

His eyes glinted with a dangerous hunger, and he bit into the underside of your breast once more, drawing another cry from your lips as his cock throbbed insistently against your walls. Instantly, the world flipped, and your back hit the cold floor, the shock sending sparks of mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you. Alastor's every bite left a blazing trail of sensation, a heady mix of sharp pain and bliss. His teeth glistened with crimson, and he began to thrust into you with desperation, each powerful movement sending waves of euphoria radiating from your core. 

It was overwhelming—the way he drilled into you, the way his hips slapped against your clit with a relentless intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the air, mingling with the cacophony of his moans and your cries. Just as he sank his teeth into your other shoulder, you felt a blinding rush of pleasure, a bright flash that took you over the edge. You shattered around him, your body convulsing in waves of pure bliss as he continued to thrust, driving you deeper into ecstasy. 

Sobbing with a mixture of overstimulation and overwhelming emotion, drool trickled from your lips as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the intense heat of your orgasm washing over you in a torrent. When he finally withdrew, Alastor positioned himself above you, pumping his cock vigorously, each stroke pulling a raw, primal growl from deep within him. The gleaming head of his cock pointed toward you, dripping with unsatisfied lust. 

With a low, guttural sound, he released himself, spurting hot, milky liquid that mingled with the crimson of your blood, swirling together into a beautiful shade of pink. The warmth splattered across your face, your neck, and trickled down the curve of your chest, marking you as his. 

When he finally let go, he gazed down at you with a mix of desire and admiration. “My, how pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his eyes glazed and wild with an unquenchable hunger. 

Your heart raced at his words, and you lay still, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you, each throb a reminder of the heat and sting left by his bites and slaps.

You didn’t dare speak as you waited for Alastor to gather himself, bracing for the inevitable moment he would fire you. Instead, he did something entirely unexpected. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced his cum, now mingled with your blood, transforming into a light pink hue across your bottom lip. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something more debased stirring within you. 

He then penetrated your mouth with his finger, the salty, bitter taste flooding your senses. You could taste the metallic tang, and a whisper of disgust escaped your lips as the awful flavour overwhelmed you. 

“I expect to see you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, his gaze locked on your lips, hypnotized as he pistoned his finger in and out of your mouth. Each movement was both gentle and demanding, making you feel utterly exposed. “Perhaps I underestimated your usefulness,” he continued, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow around him. “If you don’t come, I’ll assume you quit.” 

As he withdrew his fingers, glistening with your saliva, he brought them to his own, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he savoured you, relishing the taste, ignited a forbidden thrill deep within you. 

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse yet tinged with submission. The soft addition of “sir” fell from your lips like an offering, and the way his eyes darkened in response sent a jolt of excitement through you. 

His grin stretched wider, a predatory gleam flashing across his features, making you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. You were trapped, utterly captivated by his dominance, and yet there was a part of you that craved it—craved him.

And deep down, you knew you would let him devour you whole, wouldn’t you?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[zzencat]

Why Am I So Hard On Myself? - Timeless ⏳

Breathe and choose. Left to right.

Kinda doing this one on a whim but figured it could help anyone who needs to be heard and have their doubts or feelings validated. You’re not alone. Does it say anything else about you?

TO ENHANCE ACCURACY BEFORE CHOOSING: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————————————-

Pile 1 | “no matter how hard i try…”

somehow, something always goes wrong. you always try to salvage what you can, picking up the pieces and trying to make the most of the situation, but maybe the timing is shit, or it isn’t met up to standard. plans ruined, connections gone, opportunities lost. even when all you do is try and try. you might even think “why is this even happening? im only breathing”

small note: while shuffling, it was going pretty nicely then cards started flying out of my hands like fliers on a windy day. it’s a small thing, but to me, it has to do with having constant roadblocks and inconveniences, and that maybe you feel like you’re at your last straw sometimes

you want to be seen for your efforts. at least some acknowledgment that someone knows, sees, and understands that you’re trying. someone to hear you out for once and take you seriously, even if none of what you’d done or contributed has worked before. just acknowledgment would be enough. maybe you’re the only one who recognizes your efforts.

i think you struggle with maintaining career, friendships, or really anything, in general. the foundations laid out might’ve been risky or unstable to begin with so you could question why things don’t last for you. a part of you expects the heartbreak to happen.

it’s crazy bc in this pile, there’s so much…optimism and hope (that might be dying out or feels like it has already) that one day something will work out

your heart isn’t completely closed and you’ll still have it open to accept things, even when you think it shouldn’t. this is what makes you a stronger person. it opens a wide range of doors for you, whether you know it or not. don’t give up.

———————————————————————————————————————

Pile 2 | “look out!”

you’re so used to prioritizing others and putting yourself last. bc of this, you could’ve missed out on many things and lost opportunities

you have a big heart and hella good energy — an abundance of it — but for some reason, it’s rarely spent on yourself

you feel like it’s your responsibility, all of it — to run or lead things, as if it’s all in your hands. to take over when things are about to fall apart. who made it your responsibility to carry the burdens of others? what happens then if they don’t reciprocate or return the same generosity?

all of this energy is being redirected to the wrong places when you should be thinking about yourself too. how can you help others when you can’t even help yourself? how about your own dreams and goals? you’re human too, so you need the care and support as well. your energy doesn’t just grow on trees. put yourself high on your own list. make yourself a priority for once. book a spa day and have someone else take over for the day.

——————————————————————————————————-

Pile 3 | *whistling*

for this pile, it seems to be more family related, where your pursuits, outlooks, or the way you treat yourself is how you were treated growing up. there’s some connection to pile 2 as well, so there could be some messages in pile 2 for you if it caught your eye

parent(s)/caretakers put a lot of pressure on you with crazy expectations or nitpicking, sometimes maybe even emotional manipulation like guilt tripping

there’s a need to take more charge in your life, especially in the creative and emotional corners of it, and also to create more meaningful and deep connections

some people in this pile might be easily defensive as well too. in this lifetime, you’re gonna learn to put your guard down, bc perhaps you’d grown up feeling trapped and forced into a mold you didn’t belong in

you could struggle with emotional commitment or generally sticking to one thing. there are probably too many things you wanna do or end up trying at least once. relationships might not last too long. there could even be a subconscious fear that you won’t be able to meet someone else’s emotional needs or standards.

you’re very spontaneous and prob get bored easily. also prob struggled academically (ex: having a hard time understand in subjects, sticking to one thing/constantly changing interests or majors, feeling trapped, giving up)

you’re lowkey a perfectionist. perhaps you’re never satisfied bc you grew up with that kind of dissatisfaction on yourself, likely by adults or maybe just things you’d picked up from adolescence

at some point, you might reflect back and feel disappointed in yourself, even if you’d just had the time of your life. it seems like this pile indulges in more superficial activities/substances to fill in the void in that chest

—————————————————————————

ending teddy note: hey guys! been a while but here’s a pac for ya!! i think this is a great pac if you don’t have someone to acknowledge the potential issues going on in your life. thank you for taking the time to read this and i really hope you enjoy it! rmr to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. ciao!! :P

i would appreciate the feedback! lemme know what you got or think in the comments or reblogs 🦾

- The Tedster

[rae-writes]

vampiric

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings : nsfw, vampire things aka lots of blood and blood drinking and biting

synopsis : new vampire event, am I right?

a/n : I know the event is set in nightbringer and not og, but you can read it as either version

“Your scent…forgive my lack of a better word, but it’s absolutely heavenly, Mc.” Lucifer has his face buried in your neck, fangs scraping against the skin delicately. 

You sighed, head tilting to give him more room as your fingers carded through his hair, moving to rest at the base of his neck when they were done.

It made him shudder; he knew the power you held over him, and yet— “So compliant for me, so willing to give up control. All for me, hm?”

Humming in return, you let your head roll back against his shoulder, looking up at the first born with eyes practically in the shape of hearts, “Trust you.” 

“You trust me?” 

“Uh-huh, please bite me.” You felt him twitch from where he was buried inside you- and had been for the past 10 minutes. To place a little more incentive on your words, you wiggled around until he let out a sharp growl. 

Lucifer could feel his composure fraying, however you just looked so delectable staring up at him like that; his jaw opened, teeth brushing over you one last time, before they sunk into the flesh of your neck just enough that blood pooled into his waiting mouth. 

Moaning in unison, both your hips began moving in tandem with one another as he choked out an actual whine at your taste. Throwing all sense of pride and bravado out the window, Lucifer pushes you on your back against his desk and sets a frantic pace. 

His mouth hangs open at the feel of it all, drops of blood dripping down his chin. He might’ve been moaning louder than you, it was hard to tell, but as he bites you again and again, the avatar of pride can’t bring himself to care— especially not when you’re letting him cum inside. 

“More- don’t stop, Luci, want you to ruin me. I can take it, promise I can take it, ‘m yours—“

†

“Slow down there, vampire. Don’t be greedy.” your tone was entirely teasing, knowing damn well that Mammon couldn’t help himself when it came to greed. 

“‘M not a vampire, ‘m a demon!” His complaints were half-assed as he continued lapping at the blood flowing from your shoulder, “y’r demon, ‘m y’r first, first ‘n only— my human, mine, taste s’good, makin’ me go crazy.” 

The muffled and senseless babbling only served to make you chuckle. You leaned further back against the pillows, watching with amusement as he followed without hesitation. “Take it all, then.” 

Mammon’s eyes flashed gold, hands scrambling to yank you into his lap while his fangs busied themselves with biting again for the fifth time since you started. He accidentally ripped your bottoms in his desperation, but his fingers slipped inside you and immediately began abusing your spot as an apology. 

“G’na take it all, Mc, s’good to me, my human’s so, so good t’me- i’ma give back, yeah? G’na make you feel good— please cum f’me, wanna taste that too, please, ‘m beggin ya-“ 

You responded with a loud cry, hips jerking when he didn’t even slow down after you’d given him exactly what he asked for. “Mammon-!“ 

His free hand ran through the mess you made, bringing it up to his lips so he could suck it off his fingers, “not enough, ‘s not enough, give me more, Mc, cum again and again—“ He bit you for the sixth time, and then for the seventh, “—not stopping till y’r as light headed as me, so give me more.” 

†

“D-don’t—! ‘m filthy- don’t deserve it, don’t deserve you, I can’t-“ the heightened urges this virus brought made Levi feel dirty, especially when you were so sweet to him like this. 

You pulled his back flush against your chest, resting your head on his shoulder to watch as one of your hands jerked his cock. “Don’t tell yourself that, Levi…you’re so cute when you’re desperate, it’s okay.” 

He whined, embarrassed at your words but rutting his hips against your movements nonetheless. “Am not-!” His pupils dilated when you nudged the palm of your free hand against his mouth. 

“Go on…” your lips brushed over his ear, moaning lowly against it, “Take it, Levi- take what you really want.” swiping over the slit of his cock with your thumb, you giggled when he bared his fangs involuntarily. 

“Mc!” Levi choked out another whine before burying his teeth into the flesh of your palm, whining even louder when your blood hit his tongue. 

“Aww, there you go, baby. Good boy, Levi.”

He was fucking your fist himself now, hips jerking frantically as a familiar tingle began creeping up his legs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah— ‘mma good boy, y’r good boy, g’na cum, g’na cum!” 

You winced slightly when his jaw locked, thumb targeting his slit once again, making him shriek and spill the rest of your blood that was in his mouth as he came. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you- again, please, again! More, Mc, please, please!”

†

“I’ve spent centuries learning control, so tell me…” Satan holds your bleeding finger gently, staring down at the now splattered page you’d cut yourself on, “How do you manage to make me lose every bit of progress so easily?” 

You watch him with lidded eyes, not paying any mind to your stinging injury. “Isn’t it special to find someone that makes you lose your mind like this?” 

He only chuckles, allowing his tongue to poke out and lick at your papercut. The taste makes him groan and shift closer to you as he switches to sucking the pad of your finger instead. 

“Tannie…” 

Satan closes his eyes for a moment to tug at the last strings of his composure before laying back, yanking you down with him quickly. 

Gasping, you do nothing but let him maneuver you until you’re hovering above his face, jumping slightly when his claws tear the crotch of your bottoms. 

With a desperate growl, the fourth born pulls your entire weight onto him as his tongue thrusts inside you, “Gonna make you feel good first— I’ll get my fill after.” 

You respond by wiggling your hips (slightly distracted by the feel of his fangs against your thighs), “Can have as much as you want, Tan- give everything to you— fuck!”

†

“Mc, don’t tell me you’re just gonna leave me here~” Asmo’s voice was airy and teasing, but it was easy to pick out the desperation coming from him. 

You laughed, slitting a small cut in your lip before moving to stand in front of him. The satin blindfold you’d made him wear looked so pretty against his complexion. 

“Mc?” He restrained against the material holding his hands behind his back, “I smell blood, darling…” 

Your tongue came out to poke at his lips briefly, making him gasp. Just when he was about to speak again, you crashed your lips over his, making your blood smear over both of you like shared lipstick. 

He moaned loudly, keening unabashedly when you plopped down in his lap. His wrists broke free of the restraints, hands sneaking up your shirt, while his sharpened teeth rolled your bottom lip between them, making the blood pour out more. 

“Azzy~” you pulled away from him, letting out a breathless laugh when he whined at the loss of contact. “Patience brings good things, you know.” 

Asmo’s head spun when you began bouncing over his lap teasingly, tongue swiping out to lick at all the excess blood on his lips. “I’ll be patient, just kiss me again—“ 

His cock jumped when you bit at his lower lip instead, eyes fluttering behind the blindfold as you pried his mouth open with your fingers.

“Careful what you wish for.” 

†

“M-more!” 

You tut at Beel, lifting your arm higher so he doesn’t try to bite at it. There was a cut across your wrist dripping blood into his mouth— the compromise you’d given him. “Don’t be ungrateful,” you chastised. 

He only moaned, hips bucking from where you were settled over the bulge in his pants. “Not ungrateful, I promise-” his tongue lolled out of his mouth to catch your blood better, “-You just taste so fucking good, Mc…” 

Your free hand came up to his face, fingers curiously spreading the blood that’d missed his mouth across his cheeks. He looked ravenous like this, only making the heat in your belly swirl even hotter- “Fuck, Beel…”

Bringing your arm back down, you grab at his jaw, “Only use your tongue, okay?” your hips jerk over his, making him respond in a choked groan. Slowly, you lowered your wrist towards his mouth.

And when his tongue flattened against the cut, mouth flooding with your blood, his eyes rolled back in his skull. Both hands came up to grab at you, pulling your arm even closer to where he was now licking at it like a dog. 

“S’good, you taste s’good, Mc, more, more, more, please! ‘M so hungry, please let me keep tasting you-!” 

Your mouth dropped when you felt warmth pooling underneath you, moan echoing his own when you realized Beel came in his pants from just tasting your blood. This was going to be a long night, but, “Don’t worry, bub, I’ll take care of you.”

†

“Gentle, Bel, gentle…” you pet his hair softly as his head moved between your thighs, mouth placing small bites around to show you he could control himself. 

Belphie whimpered back at you, tongue licking at the spot he bit a little too harshly, “‘m trying, you just smell so good…can practically taste it through the skin…please, can I?” 

You watched him hump against the bed for friction, taking pity when he whined again, “Alright, alright. Gently, or I’m pushing you off and you won’t get anything.” 

The word ‘promise’ left his lips like a mantra before he was nosing at a spot on your inner thigh, licking a stripe up the area before sinking his teeth in. 

The reaction was instant— the harsh jerk of his hips against the sheets, the high-pitched moan that would’ve embarrassed him had he not been in ecstasy right now, and the harsh tug you gave his hair that sent shudders wracking through him. 

“Good boy, Belphie, take what you want, go on.” The sight of your blood dripping past the corners of his mouth from how messy he was drinking it made you coo, “Cum, Belphegor.” 

The command shocked through him, making him choke out another whine as he made an even bigger mess in his pants. There were stars in his eyes as he watched you maneuver him on his back and settle above his face.

You used your fingers to shove the blood dripping down his chin back in his mouth, “My turn, and then I’ll let you have more blood, okay, baby? Goood boy, my good little demon.”

[oepionie]

—"RED LACED HEARTS" various

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

sypnosis: leona, ace, & jamil with an s/o that gifts them a big bag of chocolates

⊹ [ cw ] — slight angst, hint of jealousy◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | leona sugar daddy era, jamil wants to throw hands w your suitors, ace gets jealous◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1k+◞

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

"Happy Valen-"

"Didn't I tell ya' you didn't have to get anything for me?" Leona grumbles, taking the human-sized box of chocolates from you and dropping it onto his bedroom floor. Truthfully, Leona doesn't really see the use of valentines day. He hates the tacky gifts and how they're coloured in bright pinks and reds, garishly decorated and covered to the brim with hearts and laces.

What's so special about the holiday? You two are already a couple are you not? Isn't it only for mushy, lovesick idiots who can't even get past the hand-holding stage?

"I just wanted to give you a gift…but if you don't want it then I'll just take it back. That cost a lot y'know." You frown, bowing your head down to the floor. Leona's ears droop a bit and he sighs, getting off his bed to walk over to you. He places his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look into his emerald-green eyes.

"Hey…I didn't mean it like that." He mutters, stroking your cheek with the rough pads of his thumb. The lion pulls you down to lie next to him, his tail wrapping around your leg.

"Know damn well you don' got enough to go by. I'd like it better if you use that cash for yourself." He says, wrapping his arms around your torso and spooning you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You smiled as you carefully undid the now-loose braids in his hair, running your fingers through his tresses.

Leona couldn't care less about chocolates, cheesy love poems, or teddy bears…but being the centre of your attention ain't so bad.

"Here." Leona takes your hand and places a thin plastic card in it. Confused, you examine the card for a while before turning to him. "Why are you giving me your credit card?"

"I'm taking you out shopping later. Use that, I'll pay for everything, no buts."

✩—ACE TRAPOLLA:

Ace eyes the gigantic box of chocolates in your hands, a smug grin on his face. Oh, that was definitely for him. His sweet and adorable partner made him a special Valentine's Day present, making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Prefect, you truly had no idea just how much you inflated his ego.

He casually leans against a table, clearing his throat. Holding in a laugh, you pretend to ignore him and continue scrolling through your phone. Once again, he is attempting to play the cool guy.

Ace furrows his brows, leaning in closer to you and clearing his throat louder this time. You stay silent and continue looking down.

"…"

"…"

"Oi! Prefect!" You smirk, letting Ace wrap his arm around your shoulder. He caved in quicker than you thought. His hand sneakily drifts over to the gift, fingers curling over the cover.

"Soo…who's this for?" He beams at you, all excited like a puppy.

Ace looked so happy…it was too bad you decided to mess with him today. Smiling back, you snatched the gift away from his grasp.

"It's for Deuce!" You pipe up. His eyebrows rose to his forehead as his face and jaw dropped. He raced forward to try to grab the present away from you, screaming "DEUCE?"

You dodged him and ran to the opposite side of the room. He gawked at you, practically seething with anger and jealousy.

"I-I'm your boyfriend! Not him! Why-" He sputters out, hands grasping your shoulders. He shook you back and forth, whining.

"What kind of partner doesn't buy their boyfriend anything but give their best friend chocolates? "

"Calm down. Of course, it's for you." Rolling your eyes, you grasp his hand in yours. You dragged the box towards him before timidly brushing a kiss against his cheek. "H-Happy Valentines Day."

He seized the chocolates from you right away and gazed at them like they were the most priceless thing in the world.

"MAN! You really gotta pull these lame jokes all the time? These better be the best chocolates I've ever tasted!" Ace joked, popping a heart-shaped piece into his mouth. He sent you a boyish smile. "Well…since it's coming from you, I'm sure it'll be the best."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

Jamil scowled at the jumbled presents and love letters sitting atop your desk. His hands grasped a box of his own, itching to just rip every single gift out of there. How in the world was he going to get his present inside of that mess?

Even though he was your lover, he couldn't even get his present through—damn these suitors!

"Jamil?" He jumped and turned to face you, a sheepish expression on his face. You were looking up at him brightly, holding an enormous pink box in your hand. He noticed how your arms shook with the weight of carrying the entire thing.

"Happy Valentines Day!" You cheered, holding the box up to him. He gently took it from your hands, eyes soft. His irritation had melted away into something warm and gentle, these feelings making his heart beat faster and his palms sweat.

"Thank you, prefect. Oh, and this is for you." Jamil handed you the neatly wrapped box, filled will all sorts of handmade sweets and pastries. He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed at the somewhat lacklustre gift.

Jamil's eyes darted to the stack of presents atop your desk, he swore he saw a brand-new phone in there somewhere.

"I know it's not much but it's from me…It's not as expensive or as flashy as some of the other gifts you received but-" He was interrupted as you hurried to sweep the heaps of presents off your desk and into Grim's, the cat looking more than happy to receive so many things.

You turned back to him, clutching the gift tight in your arms. "It doesn't matter! I only want your gift!"

Jamil felt his heart skip a beat. With a rare smile on his lips, he pressed the bright pink box against his chest.

"Me too."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

[death---dealer]

Taken. ( Noa x Human!Reader ) Part Twelve.

*sobbing into my breaksticks*

Title: Taken. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications, injury, mentions of blood. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 8.1K ( ha ha I'm in danger ) Summary: You had accepted that you were going to die. The future was such a stingy thing, even now as it flashed in front of you like a thousand lives were being lived at once. Noa was never going to know. Never going to see what you saw. And for that, you were so sorry.

READ THE SERIES HERE.

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Death was not something that you admittedly confessed to your conscious mind about often, one of those innate fears that seemed to be festering in every being on the green Earth, but only a few who were daring really thought about it on a day to day basis. It happened to all living things, you thought to yourself and pressed your forehead against the heated ground below you skull to kiss whatever was left for you goodbye. There was no point anymore, the mind was willing to give itself up in an effort to save some semblance of who you were, who you were going to become at the end of the day.

Nothing, your eyes squeezed shut. You were to become nothing. Another score on the card of the sky, another tender moment that flashed before someone else’s entire vision, encasing to the outer edges of their peripheral, there one minute and gone the next even though you wanted to stay longer, just to make sure they knew what happened to you. Puffing out air hurt as you did just that, the dirt dancing from the ground below and chapping itself against your lips. With what moisture, you were unsure. The flames were taking that, too along with the sweep of the entire Eagle Clan. At--- At least they appeared to get out, there was an utterance in the back of your mind you had been tugging to ignore since you fell to your knees and then to your stomach. Cautious fear tore through you, not quite willing to let yourself be burned alive as was evident by the skid marks on the ashen laid ground below as you had managed to grasp yourself but less than a meter were the inevitable was coming for you. Maybe… Your lips parted and it appeared like you were physically kissing the ground where the young Master of the Birds had previously been, sensing the drip of iron against your tongue which you were unable to deduce as being your own, or his, this was meant to happen. When… He had accepted you into the Eagle Clan, pre-destined to be the star to help consume it all but then take it all away in an instant of self-gratification as you sacrificed your entire life force for the count of many others.

Not that it mattered, there was bitterness rising along the crown of your forehead as the blood began to seep from there, down the curve of your forehead, captivating in a dance with your eyebrows before it leaked into your eyes and you were forced to hold them shut as to not cry your own agony to the Earth.

She… She had seen enough today, fighting that tore at her flesh like yours had been, crying as the ash sunk into the dirt below and became one with something it was not meant to be, like you had wished, blood pouring into the torrents of browned and gunked soot that smeared along your face as you cried to vast cradle of empathy for the ground where you laid; riding along your senses as your fingers pressed themselves into the dirt once more, your fingernails unable to carry anymore underneath them and the numb tingling of your hands driving you insane as you were unable to tell what you were holding onto, if anything at all. You just wanted him safe; your eyes managing themselves to look towards the forest of where Soona had carried your cherished heart, having torn it right out of the warmth and security of the ribcage it pounded so heavily against when you were in his presence, even in the instant that you had pulled his heavy, dead-weight over and then atop you like a shield of protection. With him, ran your will to live any longer. With Noa, leaving the notch in your chest vacant and empty. Soona would care for him as she always did. Care for Noa and Anaya… Your irises blacked and you dropped your eyelids, not even enjoying the shutter of your eyelashes against the toppened height of your cheekbones.

You--- Releasing another shot of air onto the ground, you felt a shutter trail its way down your spine as you released a gut-wrenching cry that mimicked the sound of Eagle Sun crying above you. Not able to turn your head towards the Heavens, you made the safe bet that you were imagining things, that your racing brain was trying to remember the smaller details about your life before you were gone. One more flash, it told you on your eyelids as you stared into the pitch black, now swirling with stars. One more good look at everything you have done in your life, everything… 

Sobbing, you knew your shoulders were moving but you were unable to detect the motion as you willed your arm to lift to the right side of your body and into the bowels of your tactical pants, so warm and flooded with your own being, gushing at the sight of your mangled calves as blood smeared and poured out of you without care, your fingers couldn’t tell if you were brushing against the blue feather that you carried with you, the last piece of him you were ever going to have or if it was flushing against the cotton base of your pants themselves.

Like you ever did leave the feather to its own devices, you wanted to retort to yourself in sarcasm but even that was lost to yourself in the muddled mess of the possibility that it was even obtainable to you. The day Noa gave it to you became the day you said goodbye for the first time. 

There was nothing else for you to feel here, eyes opening into slimmed slits as you cried a weakened ‘help’, coarse, your throat was too dry to even make anymore please and your whimpers began falling to the crackling of the destruction of the village behind you, a wave of embers running along the side of your body and singing off the small hairs that were exposed to the air as the Eagle Enclosure finally brought itself down under the heavy weight of expectations. The cracking of the foundation was felt against your chest, deep in the ground. 

You wanted to give it… one more fleeting attempt… Something… Anything to get yourself to move forward, to… To… Live to see everything you were meant to be instead of a marauder for a Clan of which became a piece of you. Anaya, his smile and jokes, never taking himself too seriously as he showed you the collection of Echo items that he had scavenged, your fingers tickling against the delicate nature of what appeared to be a very, very old stuffed animal. Soona, her fingers brushing through your hair on the evenings after dinner as she talked to you softly about the Eagle Clan itself, even taking in some gossip she had heard and managed to pry out of---

The hand you had tugged into your pocket, seemingly stuck in the tight space, stiffened as you brushed the lightest edge of the feather he had given you months and months ago. Noa… He--- There was the feeling inside of you that he was alive, somewhere out in the woods that surrounded the village that was nothing more than simmering huts that were crumbling down just like the last relics of civilizations were within the Echo Ruins.

They… Were to become ruins themselves, you philosophized and chortled, feeling ash tug itself way to the back of your throat as you let a strangled cough out in an attempt to stop your lungs from liquidating the particles into a fine mix of concrete and suffocating you from the inside out. Noa, the very heart of these ruins, was still alive. You knew, you knew. 

Otherwise all you had done was for nothing. You needed that, the last bit of reassurance you were able to promote yourself to. That… was okay… A dry smile parted on your lips as you subsided and rested your forehead against the ground once more, letting the night imagine that you were pressing it against Noa’s, you were sinking into him, giving him whatever life you had left in a bid to get him to survive. 

Yes… You were always meant to save him, it was true, and that meant… He had to live. For his Clan, for his future that you were not going to be apart of and take in the delectations of him getting other in front of your eyes, the once warmth nature of his fur peppering countless white hairs in a tanglement of wisdom, your stomach turning in on itself out of an incredible sheer will of oddly placed jealousy as if you were now seeing Noa’s life flash before your eyes, two circling Eagles in the long abyss of the blue sky that rounded the Earth, always destined to meet wings, but never destined to truly glide side-by-side. He was going to be great, you felt tears crawling into the cracks around your mouth, into the open wounds where you had been beaten within an inch of your life.

Noa--- Noa would grow. His gait would strengthen, he would teach his fellow Apes of the world beyond the Eagles and assure them there was nothing to be afraid of, your lips whispering to his ear what to say to them for the past year. It was a deepened feeling that you had, assured that the Ape would do what he needed to, almost feeling a sense of pride and you could see the dance of his shoulder as he boasted to you when you were destined to meet again, allowing the soaring to take place again above the Earth, that he had done good by you. That Noa had learned, that Noa… Had lived a full life. Finally, your fingers managed to tug the feather of your pocket out and you drew it upwards towards your face, wanting it to be the last color against the blaze that your eyes were able to comprehend. 

Noa would find another more suitable for him, your heart turned in on itself, beating harder than it needed to to keep you alive for the last sustained minutes you were able to spare to think about him, there had to be another if destiny allotted you the privilege to die for him, to die for the Clan to survive. Maybe even Soona, you laughed at that inside of your mind, she would be good for him.

Smart, funny, caring… An Ape herself, able to give Noa what he’d never admit to wanting but was always there in the animalistic pull you had towards each other. With the thought of your laughter came the inconsequential visual of your head tilting back with knowledge that Noa was piercing right to your jugular with the motion vivid and clear like you were living that moment from the many times it happened in the past. Another Mate, he’d be happy, the white vivid coldness that consumed you began spitting back memories of the future that were not going to live. 

There were moments you wanted to hold onto, knowing they were never yours to being with. 

Noa grasping the back of your head and holding your forehead against his own, explaining in his own terms that… There was more here, your hands digging themselves flushed into the fur of his forearms to keep you steady against the hold he had for you, the hold that was tethering you to the Earth, no longer worried about gravity. 

Spliced, taking from your grasp.

Your lips ghosting over his own as Noa brought his thumb up to your bottom lip, your legs… Bare and naked around his tapering waist as he was positioned under you for assurance that you were not hurt as he asked, so soft and so tangled with adoration mixed with carnal desire that was also speaking in his pupil's blown eyes as the Ape looked right at your naked chest, the hackles of his fur-lined body raising in anticipation of the moment. “Are you… sure… I am what you want?” That wasn’t a question, you wanted to whisper but as your hips drew themselves down in assurance you were spat to another remembrance of the future that was not meant to be.

Never to be and you were chasing the pieces of faded obscurity. 

The lazy sun pierced your eyes as you squinted at the crystal clear blue of the sky above you, head resting in the surprisingly familiar lap that you had grown accustomed to. The ripping of the thigh muscles ensuring that you were always going to be safe, mouth curling itself into a content smile as you looked at your mated beloved. Echo behavior, Noa’s voice rang in your ear as you felt a pull towards that nature as your lips parted as you whispered the smallest utterance of an ‘I love you’.

Time will forget all things Echo, they were all dying.

‘Child? My…?’ Noa’s voice was barely more than a whisper in your eardrum as you nodded in acute fear and confirmation. His own, your own. Two species sharing in something kind and gentle that would be raised as both. The idea that he could… That he--- Was able to do this with you running rampant as you were pulled so tightly to his chest, your hands drawing themselves into the fur at the base of his muscular neck, ripened now with age as you figured time had passed now as things were going linarily forward, rubbing it in your death-ladened brain that you were never going to experience these moments yourself. The running film in your mind came to a stuttering stop, no more your subconscious told you. Those were going to be reserved for the day you met again and he told you what he had accomplished, letting you, a measly little Echo that blipped his heart for a year, live vicariously through because deep down, Noa would be able to admit that it should have been you.

He’d… Your lips closed themselves as you no longer wanted to taste your tears. Noa would become a father, some day. Hopefully soon, you wished. The Eagle Clan deserved preservation of their greatness, their goodness and kindness that they had shown you despite your differences.

Their acceptance… Would be graced onto a baby Chimpanzee, Noa proud beyond belief, but scared… You swallowed hard. You knew he was going to be so afraid, the feelings drastic in your mind. Failure is always on the horizon in his acute self-deprecation and you could feel your hands holding his baby, so vivid like the softened fur was encasing your senses as you looked down at them with tendered eyes. Their features were not clear, but the green of their eyes was always going to be alight with curiosity and obsession just like Noa’s.  

You… are going to become the future that Noa wants, you whispered to the baby you held carefully, maternal in all aspects as you loved the blessed wispfulness of fur that laid upon their hair. Bringing your forehead down to touch them so gently was the easy part, like you were giving them your blessing, your mergerance with Noa so clear that you knew death was coming for you. The future that he deserves, Echo and Ape alike, no animosity… Be… kind to him, he’s doing his best…  You told the baby in your arms. Please, do this for me since I cannot do it myself.

You shared them with him as intended, Noa coming into vision out of the corner of your eye, but they were torn from your grasp at the moment of fruition once you had reached for him and handed the baby Chimp back to the Ape with solemn sadness and he said nothing in your hallucination but gratefully accept the invitation you gave him, his arms strong and caressing the child, so small against his chest as their hands grasped at his chest, the bare nature of his scar, downwards to nestle deep into their fathers chest to sleep… To bond…. He would be afraid of failing them like he feared failing his own Father, but you hoped that he…Would… Remember this, that he knew you had seen this and that things would be okay, and that you were going to be with him without actually being there. 

I hope he does know that. You looked at the feather between your bloodied pointer and middle finger and gave it a twirl which seemed to deplete you of all other energy as your eyes blurred and the feather and its fine detailing became nothing but a blur in your vision. Don’t become the rage that rests beneath the surface of guilt. Shutting your eyes, you brought the feather in and lightly placed it to your face. Nothing was felt, nothing was brushing or tickling at your skin and you knew it was time then.

Duty was served, your eyelids were heavy even though they had been shut. No, you wanted to cry, it wasn’t a duty! It was a privilege to sacrifice but you were still clinging to that notion of fear mentioned before. How afraid you were to let Noa go, afraid to let Noa live another life without you, afraid to let Noa endure love from his child when you were not there to help him understand. You calmed yourself though; he’d remember you. Until he didn't.

Until that life that you had spliced together in your own crying and jealous mind became a reality with another and you were left to be forgotten, just another Echo in the long history of your staggering clinginess as you were holding onto an Ape you never had confirmation of feelings with regardless. Fantasies were tearing themselves apart, reality was falling from under you. Yeah, your breathing was shallow and slow now, shoulders barely rising and falling, Noa would forget… And… You wanted him to. It would be unfair to say otherwise. 

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Eagle Sun squealed as he came to rest on top of Noa’s shoulder that was dulled to the misery that was still tearing through the muscles there. A plump of small ash rose into Noa’s nostrils as he himself were teetering between sleep and lucidity, taking in no conversations with those around him as he had dragged himself in parallel to seclusion behind a toppled over boulder. Soona had tried to get him to stay, she tried to convince him to conserve whatever strength he had, Dar tried to get him to stay, telling him that the Clan needed his guidance but there was nothing there for him at the moment. 

The Clan was fine, he said sharply, eyes coming in and out of focus as he looked at Soona first and then his own Mother with aggravated animosity. He would be fine, he needed--- Nothing else was said and he was gone, leaving them to deal with what he was unable to process.

Mourn, his body told him, mourn for the Clan, mourn for the Eagles of the past, mourn again for your Father, but more factually, mourn for you. Green eyes were falling ahead at nothing in particular anymore, even the dim light of the flames of the village were nothing more than a scape of black and white to the Ape, his fur crying to be brushed of the ashen wood particles of his people’s history that rained down from the gray heavens, no stars to be seen, no clarification for Noa to look upon and ask advice as if there were any. There was not, he was stupid and childish to think that there would be any advice out of the drill of ‘you need to be strong’ or ‘you need to lead your people.’ 

He did not! Noa bared his teeth and felt them grit together, his canines drilling so hard into the gummed enclosure that he caused himself pain to take away from the ripping of his chest that he felt. Anything--- His hackles were rising and falling with each thought that ran through his mind, the sweeping wrinkles under his eyes incredibly prominent as they were now highlighted red and were dripping moisture down his entire face, catching on the fur of his beard. Noa did not bother wiping them away, the clear vision of your fingers pressing under the delicate skin under your eyes and doing just that, not leaving the forefront of his mind. Such an Echo thing. Such a foreign thing. 

He--- would not think about that. About Echo’s. About how… Right his Father was, his heart blistering itself into grief ridden paranoia and hatred that was not justified if he were in his right mind. Echo’s brought nothing more than destruction with every step they took, even you. 

Every glance you gave him set him on fire from the inside out until he was charred with nothing but thoughts of what it was going to be like once Noa actually had you, every touch you gave him caused him to feel bile of want to rise in his throat especially when it was fleeting, when your shoulder did nothing but swiggle against his own furry shoulder, something that should have never happened, every smile you flashed him were ingrained into his retinas and Noa was sure to keep his eyes stagnant as to not see it. To not let himself remember that at the end of the day, this destruction of his Clan and his very own self-being were caused by you.

The Eagle Clan’s leader  wanted it so badly too, for you to step on him and take what was yours. What he had given you. Noa would still beg for it if it meant you would come back to him this very night and even with a heavily injured body, he’d somehow make you his, awkward and rigid, his blood smearing into your own as Noa desperately brought his weight down on you, crushing to the point where you had no room for air any longer, face contorting the way that was remembered in his own mind, and the Chimpanzee would ride you until the sun came up out of self-gratification and indulgence. Mine. This beautiful onslaught of hatred, muddled with adoration and perfection, leaking around the very edges of the glass with brimmed primal intent… Was all his.

“Leave… me alone…” His voice was tearing itself apart with self-loathing riding along the very edges with regret seeping into the more puddled middle. He did not want the sympathy of an Eagle who had lost their Master. Any rational thought was eradicated, his gaze sliding to intensely stare towards the bird who was perched on his right shoulder, talons now seeping into the wound that would not care to stop bleeding. Noa seethed at that, baring his teeth towards Eagle Sun, and in one sharp and twisted motion, Noa was on his feet and flew his free and uninjured hand into the air like he was going to take off himself and shouted at Sun. “LEAVE ME.” The sun would come up soon, he thought ha-hazardly, now drawing back down to the ground to resume the crumpled up position that he had been in before… Noa growled and rolled his shoulders despite the screams that he was getting from the tendons to stop movements so they could begin healing. That stupid bird bothered him! Stupid, dumb… Pointless… Bird… Noa felt a chuckled sob swipe the back of his throat. You… Loved that bird even if Eagle Sun was cautious of you. The attempts you had made to get close to him, your fingers being pecked into oblivion. That… Noa tilted his head and sniffed, the air condensed with thick burnt undertones. That was the first time that he had seen you bleed, your very first attempt to get Eagle Sun to come to you and his beak caused your fragile skin to break.

The blood was vivid in front of Noa’s eyes as he thought about that time, months upon months ago. You… bled just like an Ape, gasping loudly and letting out a strangled cry, just like an Ape as you pulled yourself away from the Eagle, muttering under your breath as you brought your finger in for inspection as Noa heard you say ‘what a jerk’. 

Your blood… The scent was still heavy to Noa like you were there with him and he was the one responsible for your breaking down form. That he had done what he carnally wanted, canines sinking themselves into the most tender piece of flesh that he was about to find upon inspection of your jugular. The pressure point pulsating for him headily, Noa’s eyes falling shut as your sweat encased his taste buds first and then the gush of crimson that he imagined would come from digging straight into the light veins that traced your skin.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Noa signed towards nothing in particular, there was no one around to see the words that fell deftly into the world, now tracing themselves with the words that you had spoken so freely and so affectionately towards him. They felt like they meant everything but nothing anymore…

Noa drew a hard breath in and felt the flooding of his lungs and the pushing of the shattering of his ribs against the flesh that rested not outside his bruised body, but inside of it. Maybe his Father, Noa thought vaguely. That’s who he was talking to. In life, he never sought advice from Koro. He--- Never understood Noa. Never took the time to understand the way that Noa thought and for good reason! The young Ape stiffened when his body racked itself with an intense wash of keen agony at the viciousness of his thought. 

For good reason… It was Noa’s mind and his openness, his want to understand Raka, to understand the way of Caesar, that got him to this point. It made no sense, he began down that trail that was laid down with the skulls of fallen Echo and fallen Ape, arm in arm in death, but never eye to eye in life. Why… keep the teachings of the first Ape to deny the embrace of being locked in cages?

Why were… Raka’s ideas are so important to Noa, why… did he get so obsessed with them when his Father’s words were so clear? Even in his death, Noa felt he disrespected his people and refused to listen and heed any good advice from Koro. He was… Naive… You had made him naive and made him believe in the ways that Raka spoke about, perhaps taken a bit too literally as there was never emotions that equated into the agreement that was sealed in a handshake, something so Echo that Noa, thinking about it now, could only feel the imprints of your palm against him. Urging him upwards, urging him to look at the sky and he felt the glazing of your forehead against his, green, lush and remarkably alight eyes imagined how it must have felt for his half-conscious state to feel that. The kiss of your bloodied forehead against the Apes, a symbol and a mark that was never to be broken but it was when you chose to let him live in place of your own self. Noa peered at the sky, longing for something to make sense, longing for you to be there with him, to tell him that it was alright and that the emotions he were feeling were all justified.

Noa wanted to feel the tender caress of your fingers so far into his fur that there was nothing else that mattered… Because… Bringing his eyes back down, they shut for a few moments as they stung with the ash that clung desperately to the air that wanted nothing more than to cause aggravated assault. Nothing here mattered without you. Noa squeezed himself tighter and felt a snap in his shoulder, something that would have caused him to double over but it felt good compared to the rundown nature of the rest of his nerves that were flaring and desperate to start their journey to heal him. He did not care then, it felt so good to have some form or relief. Green eyes that were always so lively with color that flitted the most beautiful gold were now dull and driven to despair. Where did he draw the line in the sand?

Where did you fall into this, death coming for you twice? Once when he found you, once again when he was forced to say goodbye in Soona’s arm as he had heard your last declaration to have her save him instead of you? You were death itself, walking around him and tempting him over again with your lips against the shell of his ear, your mouth licking at the fur below and skyrocketing fear and electricity through his senses. Temptation drew him in, the idea that Echo were the same as Apes and over time it became more and more clear that it was the case, that both sides refused to see that. Temptation placed itself in your actions as you cleaned him of all doubt that he had made a mistake to offer you refuge. Greed… Seeped into every pore of his body, every fluttering aspect of his fur down to the very small hairs that lined and coated closer to his skin.

Noa was greedy and now he was willing to admit that. He had done what he wanted out of greed and desperation to break the norm and to prove to himself and others that Echo were good because you showed him that they were! You--- Noa shut his eyes and felt himself tear into an open sob. You were good… So good for him, so good to him and now he needed to grapple that there was no longer a future to envision. You were gone, you were dead, assured by his Mother for only a moment as he tore himself open to be exposed to the elements of bereavement. You were gone, the breeze was no longer bringing your scent to him and he was holding his hand out for you to take but you were so far under the water that he wasn’t even able to feel your fingertips grazing against his.

Noa rocked his body- front and then backwards viciously to get himself to stand- To motivate himself to turn his face forward and look at his Clan and admit that he had made such a drastic mistake and to promise that… He would serve them in the future and never serve himself. Noa would force himself to find a mate, maybe one of the Elders' daughters who had interest and knew the ways, Noa would force himself to bear children with them and never take in the delectations that were associated with what he imagined Echo mating to be like. The sweet caress of your body against his leathered and callus skin, the rolling of your head backwards as you arched against him and desperately pleaded for him. No more, to be forgotten. Noa would love his children surely, he would support them and give them what they needed unlike what he felt happened with his own Father but he would never let himself forget the idea that even if it wasn’t possible with an Echo - he could at least try. Noa could have at least tried to drive himself into you as many times as it took to assure the future of his Clan that seemed so bleak and droughted now to him. Noa needed to stand, to face his people instead of turning his back on them… They… He thought and looked over his good shoulder and finally turned himself into the bustle of the Apes behind him, a few meters to the west as they were being tended to by Soona and Dar. They needed him… They needed their leader to take them to the promised land and to raise them from the very ashes of history. “Noa---”

That… Narrowing his eyes, there was a wash of panic that rested in his fellow Apes that he had been so ignorant of, voices overlapping each other as twigs broke underfoot as they shuffled in the dark, soon to be twinkling with the dawn that was at the cusp of the horizon, he could hear the drawing of chittering from deep in their chest, a form of communication that was verbal but used no words followed by harder barks of aggression.

Something--- Noa’s eyes amply lit themselves up at the sight of a torch that was lingering too close to the Clan now. That voice was Soona calling his name, his eyes forcing themselves onto her movements as she was hunched on all fours, skidding to a stop on the floor of the woods and tore into the dirt and sediment below.

 “Another! There is another!”

He opened his mouth to say something, to ask anything but his voice was gone as he felt terror resting in the back of his throat at the realization. Echo. There… had been more. They… Came to seek revenge for their fallen comrades and were going to kill the rest of the Clan! Noa stiffened, “Must hurry. Get---” He grunted as he stood, his knees buckling under the sheer weight that he carried, only muscle and no fat. ‘Any ape…’ He signed to Soona and followed her closely back towards where the Clan were gawking at the appearance of another devil. ‘That can fight.’ 

The female Ape beside Noa only nodded and broke apart from him once up the small embankment of the boulder he had secluded himself behind earlier. Noa felt his movements to be slow and shining with aggravation that he was priming his taut muscles again to fight, this time, he accepted, to the death. The Earth moved below his weight, not helping the fact that he was already unbalanced beyond what he was capable of correcting in his right mind. Another assault and it would end in either their own demise, or his. The latter seemed to realistically attainable, he wanted to see you, wanted to greet you and finally tell you all the things that had been plaguing his mind since he handed you that blue feather, setting in motion a very tangly dance of courting that neither of you were actually aware of happening. 

The brushing of his shoulder against yours that would displace his scent against your sweetened notes, the stares you gave one another as you spoke of things outside of your own cultures, hands inching closer, one by one, feet stepping one motion at a time before the entire world shifted and you were gone from in front of him and Noa’s reaction time was too slow to grab at any idea that you were even there in the first place. The Master of the Eagle Clan only had one thing to fight for left. It was a male Echo that Soona drew worry to, that was the first deduction. Male, not armed…? Nothing cased his smaller body, thinned from malnutrition as most Echo were. That’s what made them so easy to hunt and kill as a sport. Noa’s brow hardened as he stared down the small hill at them as he heard a few hisses from the Apes that the Echo was passing as they were brought to Noa’s utmost attention, his brain feeling nothing more than a scrambled Eagle Egg on a hot simmering rock.

“You---” Their voice caught in their throat, nothing more than a jumbled mess of high pitched noises as they looked up at him, Noa feeling a drench of intimidating factor radiating off him, even from the very tips of his fur were they shivering and shoving down this Echo’s throat. “You’re-you… You’re the leader?” “What do you want?” Noa barked at them, letting his canines slip into display as his eyes were turned from the softness of thinking of you to the bitterness that this Echo had the audacity to come find them to finish the job as if taking you along the waist side with them wasn’t bad enough. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

The tenacity in his vocals surprised everyone, the Echo falling nearly flat on his back but that was nothing compared to the stares that he was garnering from the Apes themselves. Chimpanzee eyes were widened with fear that he could kill them if he chose, if they did not pull their weight in the Clan, Bonobo green glances were shared amongst each other as no one knew Noa to be aggressive, to use force. He was an intelligent fighter, hackles began to arise on all the Apes' fur in thinned anticipation of what this meant, all minds like a hive sharing the same notion and idea of radicating revenge.

The fact that Noa was displaying such an air of arrogant hatred and encroachment evident in his powered stance, his thighs pained but willing to put forth one more effort, his shoulders, one rendered completely useless in the idea of another tussle, but the other rolling as to show the Echo that even one handed, he was more than capable of tearing their face off. “S-She’s alive!” The male held his hands up as Apes began to enforce themselves into their personal space, the clear indication of fear rising and hitting all their noses. Sweat and adrenaline as if that were going to save them if they decided to attack him. Noa’s mouth opened for only a moment as he stared at him, their eyes afraid to look into the soul of an Ape as a Bonobo next to him hissed nearly directly into his ear before his lips drew themselves back together to keep rational though his train of conductive thought began tearing itself apart. You… were alive? Where?! He wanted to rattle this Echo by the neck. TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!!!! Noa’s eyes widened minutely before resuming their narrowed glance. The Echo whimpered and shifted away but only caught the attention of another bonobo on his other side. 

“What.--- did you say?” The control in his voice was gone and Noa knew that he was running the risk of being played again but the greed he had discussed in introspection earlier was rising in the back of his skull, tickling at the notion that… The male Echo here spoke the truth. You were alive. Breathing, succulent as ever in wafted graces of smell, but hurt beyond compensation to the point where Noa wanted to rip this Echo’s face off and lick the blood off the insides for even speaking of you. No one was allowed to anymore, it was law. You were reserved in memory encased glass now, to be locked in Noa’s mind for the rest of his lie.

“The one th-that got us here! She’s AH!” A Chimpanzee grasped his forearm, looking up at Noa as they did and Noa did not give them the time of day, waiting for more baited words from this man. “I--- Was never a part of them, they threatened to kill my family… My…” He looked around frantically at the Apes around him, “My family… I cou-couldn’t do it, so I hid in the for-forest… I---” It was clear that he was bargaining with Noa, with all of them. Probably to save his pathetic little life as Soona came rounding to Noa’s right side and stared alongside with him.

“Could have saved her before---”

“They would have killed me!” “They should have.” Noa snapped back without empathy or remorse leaking out. They should have killed this worthless excuse of an Echo. No, not that affectionate in nature. This absolutely disgraced Human who probably came here to save his life rather than to be hunted by another group of ruthless Apes that would gut him alive. Noa gestured with his muzzle to take the Echo away, to let him die out in the wilderness.

A death by the hand of an Ape would come too swift to this creature, Noa decided, his eyes widening as the Echo dragged his hand into his pocket, shifting aggressively against the Apes that had a hold on him. Everyone assumed a weapon, the flashing of several pairs of teeth indicative of that along with raised fur, hardened breath and heavy beady weight drawing flat and wide feet into the ground. Echo weapon like what injured Noa so badly.

“She gave me this!” Blue. Noa’s eyes were broad with reminiscent melancholy. Eagle… Sun’s… Feather… 

“Where did you---” Soona shot Noa’s side profile a glance as his voice wavered unconfidently, not believing what she was hearing.

“She gave it to me, I’m telling you she is alive! She said you would recognize this!”

‘He lies.’ Soona signed towards her sunset brother but Noa raised his good hand and cut her off. 

‘Why risk coming here when he’s alone? Where did he get the feather?’ 

Soona responded but Noa did not pay it any attention as the feather was captivating his reddened eyes. Noa bargained now, washing into a dream-like state at the appearance of something that very clearly carried your scent within the tiny bristles. So warm, the smell was even though it was just a trace of blood, but it was there and it was catapulting the Ape into the great unknown of what lay beyond the offering this Echo just gave. Wanting nothing more than truth so he could see your face, hold your face and tell you that he was sorry for everything knowing fully well that you would say the same thing if you saw him, Noa swallowed hard. 

He felt his heart yearn for that… Even if you were actually dead, he wanted the morbid satisfaction of being the last hands to touch you. You were his and only his, even in death and Noa would never let the mounting guilt that flooded his senses ever forget that. There was always the intent to go back for you, even once the fires dissipated. Alone and torn to shreds the few things that he never cared about. He’d place you next to his Father. He’d--- He looked at Soona with a softened gaze of assurance, he’d hoped that you were with Koro and you were telling him the ways of the Echo just like you had done to his Son. 

Noa…knew that Soona was going to disagree with this much like she disagreed with the agreement you and Noa made nearly a year ago.There was no way to tell her, to describe to her that even though he knew it come be a threat, that he could die, he was more than willing to try. Willing to see you just once more after his harsh abandonment left him feeling more gaped than the wound that inflicted his chest, the blood around itr now drying in heaps and heaps upon the clotted fur that was tangled with dirt. 

She growled at him, a deflection to get him to stop considering what he was about to do. He was playing around with the emotions of one of his closest friends, teetering on the very thin line of distrust. If Soona was right, she’d never believe in Noa’s judgment again, none of the Apes would. But… If this Echo were right then… Noa was wrong, and you were still alive out there, saved by this Echo who came here… He sniffled a bit, the fur that was raised on his shoulder falling down slowly as he tried to keep his breathing rational but the feather’s appearance was dragging him into the ground below, his emotions frayed from no sleep, his brain not comprehending anything outside of getting you back to his side. 

‘I will let him take me to her.’

‘She is dead! Noa.’ Her hands quickened as the human watched them communicate in utter silence, a cruel contradiction to the loudness that Echo seemed to carry with them to all corners of the land. ‘What if he brought more!? We cannot defend ourselves with what we have!’

“You need…” Noa looked at the ground and spoke in nothing but a wistful whisper and felt a stifled cry rise in him as he lifted his tendered shoulder and placed it against Soona’s smaller body, right against her outer shoulder and he pulled her to him languidly, “To trust me… If I do not…” Soona opened her mouth to protest but could see the contemplation written on Noa’s face as he had thought this through as he so often did. And like the conversation of the past to get them all convinced to let you stay, Soona did not agree with his reason or justifications… She did not understand but she chose to do as Noa wanted. Trust.

“If I do not come back, you must take the Clan to the place we scouted out. Let them take me… to save… Eagle Clan.”

“Noa…” Her voice was soft as he tore himself from her, every step he took towards the Echo antagonistic and threatening just to drive home the fact that Noa was indeed a predator and he was willing to do what he needed to do to defend himself. Cross me, his gait said to the male who cowered as he got closer and crouched down, ignoring the sensation of intense crunching of his ribcage from the motion of his body once again closing on on itself and he peered into a set of eyes that should have been so familiar, they were Echo like yours were, but were drawn to fear much like yours had been the first time you laid eyes on Noa and he felt a prickle of familiarity at that.I will be the one to kill your family, every last one of them, his green eyes said, pupils dilated to eclipse any of the color. I will drive them to the very ends of the Earth and put their bodies up on display on wooden sheared spears if you dare.

Spotting Soona one last glance as she moved slowly on all fours towards Noa, her lacked movements evident that she was uncomfortable with his choice but once his eyes set on Dar, who had been moving to help the baby Apes move away from the fight that she sensed could break out, she looked at her Son tenderly. You… Do what you need to do to save your mate, she said softly, Noa feeling the pang hit him at the idea that Dar… 

His own Mother… Wanted nothing more than to turn back time and do the same for Koro, to help aid Noa in the fight in hopes that three against one gorilla would give them any chance. Noa knew - His mind playing the moments of his childhood where he had seen his parents foreheads pressing, his tongue out of his mouth at the display of affection, talking to Anaya and Soona about the lack of interest he ever had in fulfilling that, in setting another female Ape to take his Mother’s position that was garnered with respect and adoration. Noa knew Dar would have done what he could to save Koro and she was giving him the chance, confident her Son would succeed to do just that. 

Noa narrowed his eyes and puffed his breath against the Echo’s face. He cowered again and grunted as he fell almost straight on his back but got caught by another Chimpanzee behind him as Noa’s hand delicately plucked the blue feather right from his shimmering fingertips with acute ease and sacredness of what the item meant to the two of you. It glistened with crimson blood, dark and whispering to him that you were still alive, this blood was fresh and not dried and flaking off. Noa brought it to his lips and let his tongue swipe at it just once, coating it with a glimmer of saliva. Alive, it tasted… Tucking the feather into his armband, careful and gentle as the moistened feather now tangled into the dryer nature of his fur, he muttered.

“Take me to her.”

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[pooksgetspooked]

Teacher’s Pet

Summary: Leon was never good with people. Not since Raccoon City, not after the DSO, and certainly not after he’s involuntarily signed up to be a temporary professor at a University. He simply didn’t have the same charm that others envied, so thank the heavens he didn’t have to be when you were there to charm him instead.

Pairing(s): Professor!Leon s. Kennedy x Student!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Content Warnings: MDNI! Age gap, Both of them are a bit of a creep, But they’re cute so it’s okay, Obsessive & Stalker undertones

“So, does anyone have an answer for this first question? Yeast deletion library can be used to validate tumor suppressor genes identified in tumors from humans. From such studies, we can infer that these genes function mainly as…? Anyone?” A lengthy silence followed, cut short by a sigh. “Mainly as cell cycle regulators.” The air of confidence ebbed away, leaving a soft murmur meant for his ears only as he slumped into his chair in behind the front desk.“Come on Leon, this is stupid. Awful. Am I even doing this right?” 

A calloused hand carded through blonde locks, tousling them as the man took a deep breath while sifting through his slides once more. “Is there anyone who knows what cell cycle regulators do? No, that’s too textbook, they’ll understand better in a real life application question,” he grumbled once more to himself within the vacant classroom, “real life application… I better start bringing lab samples if I’m gonna start talking about real life application,” he snorted dryly. Odd, maybe that’s an inside joke between him and himself. You couldn’t help but giggle softly to yourself; actually to yourself, unlike Prof Kennedy. Poor sod. Sat outside the classroom with your ears pressed against the door, you were jotting down notes to yourself with some scribbles for entertainment purposes. 

Your attention was rapt however, when you heard him murmur your name. Breath hitched, you froze while scrambling to pack your things and get away before he could open the door. “Yes, you. Do you have an answer to this question? It’s alright if you get the answer wrong, but i’d like you to try.” You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as you realized he was just practicing, but that didn’t stop the warm flush of your cheeks while your hand came up to cover your lips. Was he practicing with the thought of you in mind?

Professor Leon Kennedy, or Prof Kennedy as some of your classmates preferred to address him by, was the new professor teaching the principles of genetics module. You had heard whispers about him being younger than most of the geriatric professors, something something government involvement and a temporary break.

You were more concerned about this guy’s ability to teach, because you were damn sure if you had someone with the teaching capacity of a TA as your prof, you might personally see to that he clocks in his early retirement. 

But turns out, he was a pretty alright professor. You’ve definitely had better, he wasn’t exemplary. No, Prof Redfield took the cake for that. Eye candy, and brutal at Chemistry. You didn’t hate O chem any less than when you first started, but he was convincing enough to keep you from skipping. 

While Prof Redfield was masterful at his subject and teaching, Prof Kennedy was diligent but at the same time, kind of a grouch. It was kind of sweet to see how hard he was actually trying to make lectures more bearable, but you had every reason to believe that he himself could hardly stand being there when he never had anything beyond an impassive expression. You were pretty sure you’ve seen cadavers with more life in their face than he did 95 percent of the time. The other 5 percent was when class ends and he’s got the same urgency to match the pace he’s packing, because somehow he’s always the last guy in and first guy out of the lecture theatre.

“Alright class! Can anyone tell me about- no that’s not right, what am I saying?” Leon was near his wits end. Couldn’t recall why on earth he agreed to teach at some university as a break. Actually no, he did recall. 

He recalled how Chris and Claire had both coaxed him into the idea during one of their nights out drinking, and he recalled not recalling signing anything, but apparently he was already signed up for it within the same week of his disgruntled verbal agreement. He wished the government would work just a fraction as fast as whatever organization body that was desperate enough to take him in as a professor. Oh, but I think you’d be a good match Leon, what with all your lab background, you’ve got the knowledge they’re looking to teach. Plus, it’s an easy paid holiday from work! Leon rolled his eyes as he recalled the muddled voice of Claire, or was it Chris? Doesn’t matter. They considered a whole lot of his technical abilities, and a lot less of his social skills neck to neck with a nut. Tipping his head back as he stared up at the fluorescent lights, he thought back to his first lecture. Fucking terrifying, mind you. Facing BOWs with the ability to detach his spine from his head wasn’t anywhere near the same kind of nerve-wrecking when he had to stand in front of a whole auditorium of students. The second lecture was better, but only but the smallest sliver.

Lesser students this time, but still too many eyes for comfort. The only saving grace was that this time, he practiced. Spent an embarrassing amount of time going through the lecture materials with himself before stepping up on stage. 

Asides from that however, he had a little more brain capacity to actually observe the students during his second attempt. Most of which, jotting down notes on their ipads, using their phones; he couldn’t blame them, genetics can be pretty dry, and he would’ve chosen to teach something else as well if he was given the choice. However a little something stood out from the crowd. You were nearer to the front, rather dolled up. You were cute. And not only that, lo and behold, you were a nodder. Lecturers must love you, because Leon sure as hell did when he finally caught notice of you, and how you seemed to reciprocate his lectures with an encouraging nod and a smile whenever your gaze met. He found it a little easier to go up on stage after that. His gaze deviated more towards you, and at some point he just pretended like he was just teaching you. Drowned out the rest of the auditorium, and acted like it was just the two of you. 

That’s how he first came to know of you. Not actually though; professors don’t actually interact with the students. He didn’t get paid enough for that, and he didn’t want to come off as a creep, so he left you alone for the most part. 

Just did his own private digging to find out your name, and oh, would you look at that? You should really learn to safeguard your particulars better because it took him less than 5 to find your address, birthday, education history and wow, your grades were nothing to scoff at. Pretty, and smart? A girl after his heart, except that was a violation of so many school conducts that the idea was quickly carted off. He noticed starting from the fourth week that you were starting to find a voice in the class, and his attention all but zeroed in on you. The immense relief Leon felt when for the first time ever, a student actually tried to answer his question and not leave him to bask in awkward silence. It was only near the end of the lesson that he realized that his question was meant to be a rhetoric. It was an opening to the next chapter. You weren’t supposed to know what he was talking about, so how’d you know the answer? Do dean-listers just study ahead of class? “I just do some extra studying outside of class,” you had smiled sweetly up at him the one time he mustered the courage to approach you after the lecture ended, “you did a good job with this week’s lecture, by the way. The math was a little dry and confusing, but you made it a lot more bearable than it would’ve been.” The man was a real slump, but you could appreciate his effort, even if the exact opposite was reflected on his face every lesson. 

“Thank you,” caught off guard by the compliment, Leon sheepishly scratched at his chin, cheeks tinged warm, “if you ever need help, i’m usually free outside of lectures.” Both you and Leon blinked at each other. Whoa. Did the grumpiest professor you’ve ever interacted with just offer their time outside of class? Willingly? You were going to buy a lottery ticket later for your course code.

“Oh, I appreciate the offer,” your lips parted and closed as you tried to think of how to carry the conversation. You almost turned him down out of reflex, and frankly you never thought you’d make it to this stage. Sure, you were creeping just a little bit with the one sided after school supplementary class, but were you really about to push it? “how’s this friday?” The answer was yes. Yes, you were. Who knows? It might even be fun. This friday? Leon was going back home this friday to sleep away the school air and hopefully into a coma. Maybe he could sneak some drinks in, in his couch alone at home. That’s what he was doing this Friday. “This friday? I can do friday. I’ll email you later, and we can work out a time?” Or maybe not. “Sure! Thanks Prof,” he remembered how you beamed so warmly up at him, almost blinding, before strutting off with your bag hauled over one shoulder. With only the linger scent of your perfume tickling his nose, he was left to stand there by his lonesome.

It took a grand total of one and a half occasions for him to cave. The first was Friday. 

Friday came quick. Too quick, really. Maybe all that alcohol from a couple years back was finally coming back to fragment his memory, but it was like time was lost on him. Whatever time between that week’s lecture and Friday was lost on him while he was too busy imagining what the tutoring session would look like. Maybe he should smile a little more, come off more amicable and nice. Or should he just stick with the grumpy vibe? He knows that’s been hitting it off with some of the girls in school, he’s heard some of the passing comments. No, but you seem like a nice girl who would like a sweet guy. “Hey Prof, you okay?” Oh, why would you look at that? It seems his sense of time was failing him again. 

“Hm? I’m okay, just a little tired is all,” he blinked back to life, rubbing his face as he gave you a nonchalant wave of his hand, “don’t worry about me.” You frowned softly, eyes scanning him with an intensity that made Leon feel the same tingly warmth from last lecture. Before he could convince you any further, you leaned in close, and that might’ve been the closest Leon has ever been to a woman who didn’t have the ability nor intention to kill him in 3 seconds flat in a very long time.

He swallowed nervously, adam’s apple bobbing, but he otherwise made no move to push you away. Blue eyes flitted from your eyes; soft and glittery, down to your lips; Plump, pillowy and shiny. He noticed you usually had a tube of lip gloss on your desk during lectures. He went to google it, said it was strawberry flavoured. Suddenly, he was having cravings for strawberries. 

His lids fluttered, half lidded as he stared down at you, mind empty yet reeling all the same. What were you doing, little minx? “Your eyebags are pretty bad, a little too pale, your cheeks are kind of sunken as well. You should take care of your health a little more,” you suddenly said, before pulling away and returning back to your seat, back straightened as though nothing had happened. As though you didn’t lean in close enough for him to smell the strawberries off your lips. Didn’t threaten Leon’s self restraint to close the gap between the both of you. “ I can take care of myself. Thanks for the concern, but don’t worry about me kid,” he coughed, voice a low rumble as he glanced away. Right. He remembered reading about you being a medical student. He was getting ahead of himself. A doll like you with damaged goods like him? The notion was laughable, but Leon would never admit to the tinge of warmth that bloomed at the thought of it.

“Everyone could use a little help regardless of what stage of life you’re in,” you shrugged all to nonchalantly, like you were stating a fact. Which you were, before glancing towards him as you fished out this week’s study materials from your bag. “And you think you can help me?” “I’m sure I could be of some help, one way or another,” You flipped open your notebook, ipad on the side with your questions all prepared. What Leon wouldn’t give to have coworkers as efficient and enthused as you. Maybe he could put in a good word for you in his lab, pull you in for your internships. A relationship between co-workers would be alot less inappropriate than a relationship between professor and student. He knew he was still going to get shit from it from his office though, but that was a problem for later. Maybe then you could help him out. Out of his ditch of misery, out of his wandering mind, help him out of his pants. Whoa. Where did that come from?

He cleared his throat, swallowing his spit before picking up your notes. “We can talk about that another time. For now, what’re you having trouble with?” Half an hour in, and Leon was struggling. Fighting for his life, actually, because he’d been sporting a boner beneath the table 10 minutes in after your legs accidentally brushed against each other. He couldn’t tell if he was suffering from acute testosterone poisoning, and the horniness was deluding him into thinking that you were dropping him hints, or if you were genuinely showing some sort of interest in him. Your lashes fluttered when you stared up at him, lips coated in a sheen of gloss puffed into a soft pout everytime he explained something through tripped words and stutters. Everytime he found it in himself to knock the thoughts out of his head, you always found some innocuous way to enthrall him and his dick back into your whimsy, imaginary grasp. He wondered if your hands grab onto dicks as hard as you grabbed his attention. Just as Leon felt like he was finally going to see which would pop first; his dick or his blood pressure, the lesson was cut short. He wasn’t sure if he found the hour long session too short or too agonizingly long. Your eyes finally flickered away from him to your ringing cell, your lips rounded in surprise. “Sorry, this’ll be quick,” you gave him a sheepish little chuckle, manicured nails plucking the cell as you stood upright. To match, Leon’s cock sprung upright too. As you waltzed off, humming a small hello through the phone, all he could really see or hear was your bare thighs and waist, easily small enough for him to grab. And your ass? By god. He could see it from your physique. You were soft. Far softer than any of the ladies he had worked with for the last miserable 10 something years, all of which could easily deck and curbstomp him for having the thoughts he had towards you. 

You had a habit of leaning on one leg, Leon had noticed by the third class. You’d rest on one leg, your hips jutting out in that direction while the plush of your thigh squeezed beneath the hem of your pants to give a small pudge. Denim shorts day was a particular treat for him. Shame that today wasn’t one of those days, but it was still shorts day, so it was half a win for him. 

“Fine,” Leon blinked hard, gaze snapping right back up at the sound of your reluctant little sigh, “I’ll go, sure, but I’m not going for next week’s, I have some papers coming up. I’ll see about the week after,” you huffed into the phone, swapping the cell to the other hand so you could lean on your other leg. “Yeah?” He could hear your giggle, sweet and lithe. What other way more fitting words were there to describe you? “Alright, I’ll see you tonight. See you! Mhm, bye bye!” “Sorry about that, I thought I had my phone on silent, but I must’ve forgotten,” you slipped yourself back into your seat, your gaze rising from the screen of your phone back up to find leon’s, who was watching you ever so intently. “Some friends invited me to a party,” you supplemented, mistaking his stare for one of curiosity. 

Well, he wasn’t that curious before, but he certainly was now. He had heard all sorts of things about university parties, but never got the chance to actually experience one for obvious reasons. He had just about accepted his life ended at the tender age of 21 back in Raccoon City, before it was handed over and detained by the DSO for the unforeseeable remainder of his hopefully clipped life. 

So the idea of something as normal as a party charmed him, and through the shine of his eyes, you could tell. Your head tilted, an amusing little quirk of yours whenever your attention was hooked on something and the cogs in your head was turning. 

“You go to parties a lot?” he cleared his throat awkwardly, his turn to be fidgety under your scrutiny. He knew you were thinking. He knew you were thinking something of him, specifically. But he didn’t know what you were thinking. 

“I wouldn’t say a lot, I get invited a bunch but I don’t always go,” you word trailed off into a soft drone, mind pacing with considerations before you cracked a smile, “but would you like to come to this one?” “Uh, join you to a party?” the nervous chuckle slipped past his lips before he could even think to hold it back. You didn’t seem the slightest bit dejected from his apprehension however, instead choosing to press on. “You don’t have to of course, but if you’d like, you’re welcome to come to this one, it’s an open party, so other people will be there too!” 

 Oh god, what was happening. “I’ll uh, I’ll think about it?” He did. Sort of? He slept on it, more than anything. The rest of the session was a blur, you were a fast learner who pretty much solved the remainder of your own questions once you picked up on the first couple of questions. That, and he was pretty sure all the blood meant for his head was relocated to his dick, so forgive him if he was tripping over himself in a rush to get home and jerk himself off until his dick went raw.

By the next afternoon when he had stumbled out of bed with his crotch still sticky and bedside tissues stiff, imagine his surprise when we saw that you went ahead and did him the liberty of actually emailing him the party address; he had thought you were just saying it to be nice, honestly. 

‘Hey Professor Kennedy! Here’s the address for the party, again no pressure if you don’t feel like coming, but there’ll be free drinks if you do!

Take care!’ 

He spent way more time than he cared to admit considering your offer. Somehow, you’ve reduced him from a grouch wagering bets as to whether tomorrow would be the day he bites the bullet, into still too old of a man feeling like a perverted youth with a libido to match.

He thought long and hard through the myriad of fantasies that played out while he went to shower. As his hands absentmindedly lathered his soapy, blonde locks, his gaze fixed on the water stained glass. He could picture the droplets sliding down your back and past the curves of your ass. The size of the shower would force you to press flush against his chest, his stiff mast resting on your lower back, balls against the perk of your butt. 

Would you pant as he lays his weight on you, your breast pressed up against the glass and the shaft of his dick shower in the slippery dip of your pussy? Maybe you’d mewl as he toys with your nipples, rough pads pinching and twisting at the nipples while grubby hands knead and paw at the plush of your chest. He bet he could make your breath hitch and your eyes well with tears as he feeds just the tip of his dick to your gummy walls, never pushing himself all the way in. Just the tip, until you’re begging like he was your lifeline and that you’d be his good girl. 

His jaw clenched, chest tight and knees buckled as milky fluids splattered against the glass, catching the drops of water that rolled down. Leon’s lips parted as he blinked himself back to the present, the fluorescent light making it difficult for his sight to return, his ears ringing while his chest heaved desperately for air. 

For that second that your imaginary presence coaxed his undoing, he forgot how to breathe.For as much as he wants to be your lifeline, you were quickly becoming his.

[midnight-bay-if]

also an angsty-ish ask if i may (crushing stage)

ROs' reactions/thoughts to overhearing Mc and friend talking, said friend is teasing Mc about them and RO, and Mc blurts out "There's nothing between us!", then, after a brief pause, in the saddest tone they ever heard from Mc, "Besides, RO deserves someone far better than I could ever be..."

S: They think it's ludicrous. How can it be possible you don't recognise how exceptionally wonderful you are? If anyone in this situationship is falling short, it's them. They fall short in a million different ways, but they've put the best foot forward because you're the kind of person who inspires.

Well, they can't let this misconception continue. They would much rather lay the cards out straight and lose than have never taken the risk.

They reveal themselves carefully, leaning against the door frame with a charming smile. "Forgive the intrusion, but I couldn't quite help but overhear..." Still smiling, they close the distance until they are close enough to grasp your hand in theirs, holding it up delicately to their lips as they press a chaste kiss to the palm of your hand. "It would seem I haven't been clear enough in my affections if there is still room to doubt whether there is anything going on between us. I will endeavour to correct this grievous error immediately. Dinner tonight?"

Rain: That last sentence hits Rain like a punch to the gut. It seems incomprehensible to them that you could ever believe you were anything less than perfect to them. But it comes down to this. You do feel that way, and that means Rain hasn't done enough to express everything about you they find so endearing.

This cannot continue.

Rain begins with a plan. Everything they have learned about you thus far is brought into action as they co-ordinate the perfect date. Do you have a favourite flower? Great, have a bouquet of them. Do you have a favourite meal? S will help Rain cook it. Or if you have a favourite spot, great, expect a romantic walk to it. Enjoy poetry? Well, Rain is awful at writing it, but they would give it a go for you.

They'll figure out a million ways to show you their feelings if that's what it takes.

Taj: Taj's ear twitches when they overhear that final sentence. They feel the underbelly of frustration beginning to bubble under the surface. How is it fair you get to decide on your own who is good enough for who? And what made you decide that?

Wait... is this their fault? Could their sharp edges have been catching after all? You never showed it on your face. Sometimes, Taj would even dig deeper with their cutting tongue simply to see you flinch. But you never did. Had you been bleeding this entire time?

Taj inhales sharply, digging their nails deep into their palms in a clenched fist. If they were braver, they would storm right into that room and tear up those self-flagellating thoughts of yours. But they aren't. They never have been.

N: It feels strange to N, to hear the words they have already long suspected to be true. Not the part about 'nothing going on between us' since they know that much is rubbish, but the latter part... Well, the lack of belief in oneself can manifest in all kinds of ways but sits so readily in a person's body language.

It is true N is a demon prince of Hael. Before their power was so egregiously ripped from them, they were a prized jewel often paraded amongst important individuals like a prized buck for breeding. Everyone wanted a piece, and they languished in the attention.

Yet, powerless and bruised, you coveted their attention still. The lack of power did not matter to you. Back home, N would be ridiculed for seeking affection from a mere human. But, inexplicably, they do seek it. It is them who are underserving of you.

Better they remember why they came here in the first place.

Umbra: They cannot abide this. They flinched when you said nothing was going on between the two of you. For a moment, Umbra was sure someone had slipped the sharp edge of a blade right between their ribs. It hurt.

Then, you continued, and the blade twisted. It doesn't compute. Theirs are hands that have wrought destruction and death, but it is you who thinks they are not enough? This has to be their failure. If they were more human, more alive, then they would know exactly how to assuage your concerns, to prove their devotion to you.

It isn't enough to be by your side anymore. They would rather fall at your feet begging for mercy as you dig your heel in than have you believe that you aren't enough.

(Phew, hope this is okay! Sorry, it took a minute.)

[spoonsand]

RIP RED DEAD CHARACTERS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED

Dutch- disposable fruity flavoured (mango) vapes, Duolingo

Hosea- rollerblading, old VHS movies, The Sound of Music, ear studs, small hoops, and ear cuffs

Arthur- LED strip lights, therapy, The Joy of Painting

John- Ax body spray, deodorant, those little arm floaties little kids wear in the pool

Mary-Beth- Lego flowers, The Notebook, Pinterest

Tilly- Easter egg hunts, making slime, slumber parties

Karen- Tube/crop tops, jean shorts, weightlifting

Sean- make your own mead kits, TikTok, “kiss me in Irish”, SUNSCREEN

Abigail- AirTags (she would put one on little Jack), Roasting marshmallows, Crime shows/courtroom dramas, Man! I Feel like a woman! By Shania Twain

Uncle- recliner chairs, dog sledding, Wheel of Fortune, Crosswords

Susan- Dark nail polish, cats(I’m 100% sure she’d own either a black cat or a tortishell that would sit on her lap/shoulder), dishwashers

Kieran- Creep by Radiohead, Tv shows about veterinarians, friendship bracelets (with Arthur)

Reverend Swanson- Support groups, The Robert Langdon series (especially Inferno, Angels & Demons), communion wine

Javier- Cards Against Humanity, online sheet music, ear gauges

Molly- Champaign toast anything from bath and bodywork’s, naval AND lip piercing, SUNSCREEN

Bill-sexy firefighter calendars, Grindr, Bumbl, all the dating apps, apples dipped in caramel, jolly ranchers

Charles- IMessage games (mini golf and battleship in particular), those long distance ‘thinking of you bracelets’, 90’s sitcoms

Lenny- The Carpenters, cologne to make him seem grown up, head pats

Trelawney- Harry Houdini, 50-60s movies, smoke bombs, dramatic flares

Strauss- a soul, Nigerian Prince scams, telemarketing

Sadie- gyms, self defence classes, the free Britany movement

Micah- staying in the strawberry jail, toothbrush + paste, good posture

Pearson- small businesses, handmade gifts, trying TikTok recipes

EXTRA

Annabelle- Gwen Stefani, sequins, Fast and the Furious

Jack (young)- The Backyardagains, cocomelon, a little toy train

Jack (epilogue)- Monty Python, skateboarding, swimming

Bessie- Bette Midler look a like contests, growing old, brown eyeliner, SUNSCREEN