#secrets of males

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[sevenspoonfulsofsugar]

thinking of the ending of conclave (2024) and those lingering shots on the papal vestments. the future and the foundation of the church, he who sits on the throne and is the face of it, wears white.

and the last shot of the movie. and those lingering shots on the women below. the future and the foundation of the church, they who maintain it without being lauded for it, wear white.

[acid-ixx]

young, just us?! (again &. again au)

ft. yandere young justice 98 x gn! reader

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

off-topic, but i've been hyperfixating so much on the young justice (98 vers), that i've been thinking of another timeline where the entire team falls in love with you during one of their trips to the manor. i mean, who wouldn't? they want to know more about your unshakeable, yet warm presence, but they couldn't due to their teammate's indifference towards the first biological child, you.

so someone assertive like cassie slaps some sense into tim drake for his obvious negligence of you whenever you try to talk to him in front of the team, with her harsh tone and squinted glare, just to make it hurt more, that it just leads you finally catching his eyes—

whilst you're unaware of everything happening in the background scene.

cue his interest being piqued regarding you, his obsessive research that spirals into the need to be a constant in your life, and his attempts at bonding with you before it's too late; but with his team of course, because it's now he realizes just how lonely you truly are, with the lack of friends and hobbies only done by yourself, for yourself, in the ghostly manor— whilst all your siblings are out there fighting crime, socializing, with so many adventures that no normal person could comprehend.

tim is familiar with what it's like living in an empty house, before he became robin.

he trusts his teammates, his friends with his life, so it wouldn't be a problem if you were to be acquainted with them; it would be a problem, though, if he soon doesn't quench their thirst to meet with you yet again.

so imagine, one day, you're just out there gardening, humming tunes as always like routine, the next you're being dragged in impulse's arms of all heroes, his hold on you too intimate for a stranger you met once. tim's voice echoes through intangible earphones, lightly threatening the speedster to keep you safe through your fast travel. you're sped from the manor to places unknown, kissed by the air cutting through your body, until you're at their secret cave, surrounded by his teammates, dumbly looking around until a girl rips you away from impulse's arm to hug you tightly.

she acts as a cushion for you to lay your head on, dizzy from the motion enough to make you nearly vomit. but all she does is coo at your swaying head and push her palm on your nape to have you stabilize in hold.

"you okay, sweetie? i swear, if bart got you sick, i'm going to punch him so hard right now."

you're quite unsure how to reply, mind too numb to register the speedster voicing his complaints, or the disgruntled sigh from your brother who shakes his head, commenting under his breath about "keeping affection to a low, for now."

you've never been held this tightly for years, but she beats you through your disoriented tears right after a moment's beat. through your speechless squeaks, she offers you a soft and warm, "welcome, buddy!" her blonde hair glimmers under the light compared to yours.

she calls herself arrowette, suzanne king-jones her personal identity, but insists just as quickly that you call her cissie with your sweet little voice, you nod hazily. everything's happening at a hasty pace that you couldn't even question why nobody's batting an eye at the identity reveal to a civilian, a stranger that is you.

but just as quickly as she introduces herself, your attention is dragged to an all-too familiar, handsome face, his infamous sunglasses resting on his nose, piercings on his eyebrows, and raven sidepart as he shakes your hands and blows you a kiss. a batarang slices through the air and nearly misses his head, you could tell your brother's seething by now.

it doesn't take much for everyone else to introduce themselves after the awkward tension from superboy telling you to call him "baby".

but your mind is still spinning either way, from the daze of impulse's speed, or all the names being thrown into your head, while they all repeatedly shower you with compliments that has you reeling from the foreign domain of affection you've stepped foot on.

just like that, the team takes advantage of your timidness, your eyes plastered on the ground as your face flushes with blazing heat, fighting each other with verbal insults whilst praising themselves in front of you in a battle to assert who's better. it's tim taking your arms and dragging you off to another room that makes for a perfect distraction, apologizing for the sudden intrusion in your life, and how he's willing to make up for the negligence he's caused you from every since he came to the manor— that these people are going to be your new friends.

he says it all so assertively, like he's done his research and the data he's received are all correct, as if he's sure this is the greatest course of action for your life.

the transition from silence to a room filled with chatters, words all directed to you, rather than from a passing glance, their efforts to communicate with someone inept at socializing yet never giving up... well, you couldn't quite comprehend it yet, but tim could see how your face flushes with warmth and the jitters of your fingers from excitement at the implication of new and better... friends.

the taste of the word feeling so distant yet welcomed, he watches the smile slowly plastered on your face and brings his hesitant palms to pat the crown of your head still turned down, tangling his fingers in each strand to ruffle your hair.

it's totally not a way for him to memorize every detail of your being.

"let's, uh... turn our backs away from the past alright, (name)?" he says with an awkward lilt to his voice. you look up through your lashes, and find his pale face incredulously red while his eyes dart around the room. suddenly, you don't feel so trapped right now, and feel yourself giggling at his unsure words and stooping posture.

he panics and gulps, scratching the back of his neck. his eyes still refuse to stare straight at yours.

"— shit, sorry, 'm still not used to this comforting jig, but i'm serious about all this, about making it up to you while it's still early. so, uhm, i hope my friends aren't too... overwhelming for you. they're too excited, that's it."

it's finally at the end of his sentence that his eyes crinkle at the sight of you. you're still standing awkwardly, hesitant to open up yet still willing to make an effort if what he's saying is true.

there's still a shadow of doubt in your head, that this was all a dream, but everything feels so real. his touch feels so real.

it takes a split second for you to reply, still taking in the events that happened to you.

"it's... alright, maybe i'll learn to... forgive you, tim." your whisper sliced through the silent air, breathless, fiddling with your fingers, stepping closer to your brother. he hesitates, but brings his hands to rest on both sides of your shoulder.

his palms eventually made their way to hover on your face, you don't flinch, but you don't bring them closer to you either. it's an air of neutral comfort you're threading on.

"i'm... real grateful that you're willing to put up an effort for me..." it's as if you couldn't fathom that someone so talented, so important as tim drake could notice you and even apologize wholly without excuses. it doesn't take away the years, all the times he turned his back on you, and even mistakenly calling out the wrong name and flat out ignoring you, but if someone like him was willing to try— to even go as far as to have his friends become your friends.

well... who's to say you could deny the slight flutter in your chest at the sweet gestures?

it was you who initiated the hug, burying your head in his slumped shoulders, tears dampening his costume. your brother pats your back, and awkwardly cradles your body in the silent expanse of the room.

you don't feel the haste of his heartbeats, nor the goosebumps pervading his skin.

"thank you..." you mutter, relinquishing the fear that this was all a sick prank your mind has put you through, and embrace the sounds of the door suddenly slamming while your head still rests on the crook of your brother's neck, giggling through tears from bart's high-pitched squeals, the ghostly sounds of greta's overdramatic gasps and cassie's complaints of tim taking all your attention for himself.

from there on out, your presence kind of becomes a staple for the chaotic atmosphere of the team, a voice of reason whenever tim or cassie is too unhinged to deal with the others, they always kept their arguments light for the sake of your happiness. they like to treat you, finding your praises for each individual refreshing and sweet. you're unaware of just how much they truly loved you from the moment their eyes laid on the shadows of your form in the manor.

and you'd rather it stay that way, too invested in the never flitting feeling of being loved.

there's a saying, ignorance is bliss. you're in a state of happiness because this was the first time you had spent your time with someone you could call your brother. you had friends, welcoming from the start, unafraid to display their affection for you. hugs, cuddle piles, pats on your head, kisses on your cheeks, a target for kon's adorable flirting, bart's endless mumblings, even sitting beside your brother is enjoyable as he sifts through the big monitors in front of you, because at least now there's a hand you could fiddle with every time you become too bored.

how could you want to leave them after all this?

at least, in this timeline, you've willingly stepped into your own cage.

a/n: i'm this 🤏 close to disappearing off of tumblr for a year or two again because of my writer's block despite me posting more and more lately. the lack of motivation to write, and forcing yourself to write out the ideas you have in your head bec you're afraid of forgetting is such a shitty feeling. i'm on the verge of a hiatus, my imposter syndrome is at an all time high and i feel as if my writing has been lacking lately. so apologies, i might just quit if i can't get rid of this feeling. otherwise, i think we need more young justice (not the tv show) content, they're like my favorite hero team. i don't know what to feel about this drabble.

[pastelclovds]

for the made-up fic title thingy, here's a fic title i had for an old work of mine but changed: "can't sleep love"

*cracks neck* okay so—

for this title, i can’t explain it, but it gives off obsessive energy.

cw: somnophilia

brahms is having trouble sleeping because no matter how hard he tries: HE CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. he adores you both on the outside and the inside. he’s so happy that you’ve decided to stay despite finding out about him. every second he spends with you fills him with warmth in his heart (and loins). it doesn’t take long until his thoughts become explicit and his cock hard and straining against his boxers. he first tries to deal with it on his own by fingering his twitching hole how you would, but quickly gives up when he realizes he could never do it like you.

he sneaks inside your room like the sneaky pervert he is. he stands there above you for a few minutes just admiring your face before the throbbing of his dick reminds him of what he’s there for. he slides the sheets off your body and carefully pulls down your sleeping pants just enough to where your soft cock can pop out. he wastes no time to put his mouth into work, cautiously watching over your resting expressions as his tongue slides over your veins and head. your face twists into bliss as you get hard in his mouth. he’s taken your lessons on how to pleasure you to heart. now he can play you like a fiddle. he slides you out of his mouth, stroking the base of your cock as he does it.

brahms let out a whimper as the head of your cock enters him, his hole stretches to fit you in as he continues to slide down until you are balls deep and sitting snuggly against his prostate. he rests his hands beside your neck as he steadily raises his hips until your head kisses the rim of his ass and slams down. he couldn’t contain his moans and whine for ‘more’ even if he was in a death match. you finally snap awake when brahms cried out your name as his cum stained your chest and belly. he slumps against your chest as he pants heavily beside your neck. you didn’t think it was possible to grow more horny than you already have, but your darling losing himself on your dick proved you wrong.

brahms gasped when your palms found themselves on the fat of his ass as you bucked up into his tight hole. you grin as you whispered into his ear, “i’m not satisfied, love.”

[zu-is-here]

mitten

[eweeka]

My Secret Santa for @pumpkinchimy Hope ya like it! :3 The event was organized by @StolitzSecret

[theladysunami]

I had a very odd dream where a train (or bus?) I was on got yanked into another world. While my dream had nothing to do with SVSSS, it did have my waking self thinking about how hilarious and/or horrifying such a thing could be as an AU.

Imagine Shen Yuan riding the subway, train or bus one day, when something happens and his whole car gets yanked into the world of PIDW. Nobody else in the car knows anything about PIDW, so Shen Yuan finds himself with the self imposed task of keeping this eccentric group of strangers alive in a weird world full of demons, monsters, and aphrodisiac plants.

The group’s first assumption would probably be that they’re still on modern earth, and just got teleported somewhere. Their second assumption, if they come across common folk, might be they somehow ended up in the past.

Then they run into some monster, or people riding on swords with specific uniforms, or a commoner mentions a name or event only Shen Yuan recognizes. The rest of the party debates what sort of Xianxia or Wuxia world they’ve ended up in, while poor Shen Yuan sweats bullets. He knows exactly what world they are in, and they are so screwed.

I have this image of poor beleaguered nerd Shen Yuan successfully protecting and leading this group of primary school kids, their cute teacher, and a handful of grannies and grandpas, while all the other adults and older teens keep wandering off and getting themselves in trouble.

[sa-yulchae]

i'm watching...

[purple-mushroom-cap]

not in the mha fandom but why didn't izuku js lie n say his quirk was some fuckass shit like tarot cards or whatever

"what's ur quirk izuku??"

"i can predict when it rains" n bro just has to look at the weather app every morning like boom no more bullying

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔒𝔲𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱

Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: Being in a secret relationship with Mike Munroe was equal parts intoxicating and excruciating. The stolen touches, the nights spent tangled together in secrecy was addictive. But the weight of hiding it all was suffocating, and one night, when the tension between you reached its breaking point, you finally confronted him.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. No use of Y/N. Sensual tension. Jealousy. Friends to lovers. Cute interactions between Mike and the reader. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Blowjob (reading giving and receiving). Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 5500

You hadn't expected Mike Munroe to notice you. Why would he? You had spent most of your life mastering the art of blending in. If Mike shone like fireworks against the night sky, you were the quiet flicker of a candle in the corner, soft and unassuming.

And you were okay with that. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You'd met Mike through your shared group of friends—Chris, Ashley, Sam— and while he had always been polite, his attention had always seemed elsewhere.

You'd found comfort in your little corner with Chris and Ashley and their easy banter and grounded energy. Chris, especially, had become your closest confidant. He was the kind of friend who could pull you out of your head with a single sarcastic comment, who didn't mind when you sank into moments of silence. You'd never had to fight for Chris's attention; it was just there, freely given, and that simplicity made him feel safe.

But lately, you've noticed something strange.

Or rather, someone.

Mike's eyes lingered on you in ways that made your skin tingle, the hairs at the back of your neck standing on end. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then there were the moments you couldn't explain away: the sharp way his gaze would cut across the room whenever Chris slung an arm around your shoulder, the tightness in his jaw when you and Sam leaned in close, lost in conversation.

Something in the way his eyes lingered on yours that made your stomach twist in knots.

It was moments like those that made your stomach twist, a confusing mix of excitement and fear. Because the truth was, you wanted Mike's attention. You wanted it in ways that scared you, in ways that left you aching in the middle of the night, your mind replaying every stolen glance, every accidental touch.

The night of senior prom was where everything changed.

The gym was a blur of colored lights and pounding bass, the air heavy with the mingling scents of cheap cologne, perfume, and sweat. You'd been nursing a cup of punch on the sidelines, watching everything unfold with a mix of amusement and detachment. Chris and Ashley were off somewhere being grossly adorable and Sam was deep in conversation with Hannah and Beth. No sight of the rest of the group.

When Mike approached you, it was impossible to ignore how good he looked. His styled hair was now tousled, as though he’d run his hand through it one too many times. Sharp jawline slightly shadowed with the hint of a five o’clock stubble and cheeks faintly flushed, whether from the alcohol or the warmth of the crowded room, you couldn't tell.

The first few buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the smooth line of his collarbone and just a hint of skin beneath. The crispness of his tux jacket was gone, replaced by a relaxed slouch that was somehow just as captivating.

The faint scent of his spicy and woodsy cologne mingled with the smell of booze on his breath as he leaned closer to you. His hand was already reaching out as though the decision had been made long before he got there.

“Hey,” he started, his voice lower than usual, carrying a huskiness to it. He licked his lips quickly, almost absentmindedly, before continuing, “You’re not really just gonna stand there all night, are you?” He tilted his head, his fingers flexing in the air between you as if urging you to take his hand.

There was a flicker of something in his gaze that felt equal parts curious and dangerous. His eyes were locked on you, and for a split second, they flicked downward long enough to make your lips tingle like he'd touched them instead of merely looked.

It hit you that this wasn't just some half-hearted attempt to mess around. Mike Munroe, who could have anyone in the room, was standing there, looking at you like there was no one else worth noticing.

You started to stammer a weak excuse but he cut you off with a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn't believe you were trying to resist him.

"You're not gonna make me ask twice, are you?" he continued, "Dance with me."

Your heart skipped a beat, your mind scrambling to process his words. Was he serious? Or was this just another one of his jokes?

"C'mon, don’t make me beg. It's embarrassing." There was something in his eyes, a flicker of curiosity and eagerness that made it impossible to say no.

Not that you had much of a choice.

He grabbed your hand and tugged you onto the dance floor, his grin widening when you stumbled slightly.

The next thing you knew, his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other.

The song was slow, unhurried, and so were his movements. His hips swayed lazily in time with the music, as if he wasn't in any rush to let the moment end. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs brushing small, languid circles against the fabric of your suit. His head tilted slightly as he watched you, his lips curving into that lopsided smile of his, like he was soaking in every detail of your reaction.

His hands lingered on your waist, his grip firm but gentle. Every subtle move he made, from the shift of his hips to the way his thumbs pressed just a little harder into your sides, felt deliberate, like he was testing the limits of the space you shared.

When he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your jaw, it was almost instinct to pull away, but his hands held you in place. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Let's get out of here."

Next thing you knew, he was pulling you through the crowd without waiting for a response, his hand gripped yours firmly as he navigated through the throng of swaying bodies. He glanced back over his shoulder every few steps, his eyes locking with yours like he was silently checking to make sure you hadn't changed your mind.

The thrill of it all sent a heady rush through your veins.

You didn't know where he was taking you until you were outside, the cool night air biting at your skin as he led you to his car, parked in a darkened corner of the lot. The sounds of the party faded into the background, leaving only the echo of your own footsteps and the pounding of your heart.

The space between you was nonexistent, pinning you lightly against the side of the car. His gaze roamed your face, expression unreadable but intense. It was dizzying, the combination of him so close and the way his eyes kept flickering down to your lips, like he was fighting some internal battle he didn't entirely understand.

His lips parted slightly and you could see the faintest tremor in his breath as his gaze dipped to your mouth again, lingering there for just a moment too long.

And then he moved.

It was sudden, almost desperate, the way he closed the gap and kissed you. His lips crashed against yours with a force that made you gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you flush against him. There was nothing soft about it, his mouth moving against yours like he'd been starving for this.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

You could feel him, hard and insistent through the thin fabric of his dress pants. Your own hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the open collar of his shirt as he pressed closer.

He pulled back for just a moment, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against yours. "Get in," he murmured, his voice low and strained, pulling you toward the passenger side. You barely registered the cold as you clambered into the cramped interior, the car doors clicking shut behind you.

He was already on you the second you crawled inside the car, his body pressing you down against the leather seat. His weight pinned you there as his lips crashed against yours, hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp.

And God, the low, guttural sound he made that rumbled deep in his chest, sending vibrations through your entire body.

The sharp nip of his teeth on your lower lip pulled a muffled gasp from you and he took the opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth, deep and insistent.

Your head tilted back as his mouth moved, trailing a messy line of kisses down your jaw and neck, biting down just hard enough to leave marks.

He broke away from your neck just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside before his mouth was on you again, tracing the line of your collarbone. His tongue flicked over sensitive skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth while his hands were unbuckling your belt. The metal clink echoed in the small room, followed by the hiss of fabric sliding down your hips.

Your knees buckled when he finally dipped his hand beneath the waistband, his fingers curling around you with a grip that was firm, stroking you slowly at first, his thumb sweeping over the tip.

His other hand found your thigh, hooking it around his waist as he pressed closer, grinding against you with ferocity. His hands stripped away the last barriers as you lifted your leg higher, opening up for him.

When he entered you, it was with a single, unrelenting motion that left you breathless, your head sinking into the soft material of the seats. The stretch was almost too much, a sharp, burning ache that quickly gave way to a fullness that left you trembling. He didn't stop, his hips driving forward, each thrust forcing a broken sound from your lips.

The tight space of the car was filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, each motion more forceful than the last.

The car windows began to fog with the heat of your shared breaths, your nails dug into his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist as you clung to him.

His teeth grazed over your skin, leaving marks that would bloom into bruises by morning, his lips sucking hard enough to leave you dizzy.

When you came, it was sudden and overwhelming, your body convulsing around him as you cried out, the sound muffled against his shoulder. He followed moments later, his movements growing erratic as he buried himself deep, his whole body tensing as he came with a low, guttural groan.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin. But there was something softer there that made your chest tighten.

From there, things escalated quickly.

It was like once the dam had broken, neither of you could stop.

At first, it was stolen moments like a quick kiss outside the lodge when the others were distracted, his hand slipping under your shirt while you made out in the backseat of his car after a late-night drive. He'd corner you in quiet rooms at parties, lips crashing against yours before you could say a word.

He’d plop down beside you during group hangouts, his thigh pressing against yours under the table and a hand sneakily resting on your thing.

But as time went on, the moments became longer, more intimate.

You started spending more time alone together, under the guise of "studying" or "hanging out." He'd show up at your dorm unannounced, pinning you to the bed, body pressed against yours as he kissed you like he was trying to devour you.

It wasn't long before it started to feel like a relationship.

Like you were his and he was yours.

But neither of you ever said it out loud.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual agreement to keep things quiet. It was easier that way.

Safer.

After all, Mike had a reputation and you weren't exactly eager to put yourself under a microscope either.

Still, there were moments when the secrecy felt unbearable.

Like right now at the lodge during one of your usual hangouts for the weekend with everyone else. Mike was sprawled out on the couch with Jess perched dangerously close to his side, her manicured nails brushing against his arm as she laughed at something he'd said. Emily sat nearby, leaning forward with that sharp, appraising smile of hers.

You stood near the kitchen, nursing a drink you didn't really want, watching the scene unfold like some kind of slow torture. Mike's boyish grin was firmly in place, his posture loose and relaxed as he soaked up the attention.

Jess was in full matchmaker mode for her bestie, her intentions painfully obvious to anyone paying attention. She leaned closer to Mike, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that made him chuckle.

You had no reason to be jealous, not when you knew the truth. Not when you'd spent countless nights tangled up with him.

Watching him now, seeing him turn on that same charm for them to keep up the facade, still hurts in a way you couldn't quite describe.

You told yourself you understood why he acted this way, why he kept the two of you a secret. You'd seen the way people talked, how they whispered and stared whenever someone stepped outside the lines of what they considered normal.

You weren't ready for that, but that didn't make it any easier to sit here, watching him laugh and joke like nothing had ever happened between you.

Sometimes, in your weaker moments, you wished everyone else would know the way he looked at you when it was just the two of you. Maybe then you wouldn't have to sit here, watching him flirt with Jess and Emily like it was nothing.

A small, almost wicked smile curled on your lips as your thoughts betrayed you, pulling you into memories that no one else in the room could even begin to imagine. What would Jess and Emily say if they knew about the nights Mike would sneak into your room?

You could still feel his hands threading into your hair, tugging as his lips claimed yours in a kiss anything but polite.

His tongue would sweep against yours, hot and insistent, leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

And that low, desperate rasp of his voice as he pleaded with you to let him take you right there and then.

The room felt too warm now, the air too thick as you forced yourself to look away from the scene on the couch. You told yourself it was fine. This was the arrangement you'd agreed to. You told yourself that this was enough.

Even though it wasn't.

The kitchen was silent, save for the faint hum of the fridge. You leaned against the counter, nursing a beer that had long since lost its chill, swirling the amber liquid in lazy circles as you watched the bubbles rise, burst, and disappear.

You checked the clock again. 2:12 a.m. Mike had texted to meet him at 2. He wasn't here yet.

You hated how used to this you were. Loving Mike felt like holding onto smoke. You could feel it curling through your fingers, soft and warm, but it was always slipping away, impossible to grasp fully.

Still, you waited impatiently and finally, arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back against a familiar warmth. Lips, hot and wet, pressed rapid-fire kisses to your neck and jaw.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice rough and breathless, the word catching against your skin as he kissed you again.

The tension melted from your body in an instant, replaced by that overwhelming warmth only he could bring. A smile broke across your face, unbidden and unstoppable, as your chest filled with that dizzying, beautiful ache.

"You're late," you murmured, your tone half-scolding but soft, the words barely audible over the sound of his lips trailing lower before he bit down lightly and sucked like a wolf savoring its prey.

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you hiss.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice muffled by your flesh as his hand turned your face to meet his lips. "Had to make sure everyone was out cold. Can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?

His lips slammed against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a bruising force. The sharp taste of whiskey mingling with the faint tang of beer still lingering on your tongue.

Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you off the ground with a grunt and hauling you onto the counter, the cold surface shocking against your skin. His grip on your thighs tightened, rough and unyielding, as he spread your legs to step between them.

His mouth was on you again in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, messy and relentless. His stubble scratched against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn and his hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises.

You moaned softly against his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, to keep him where you needed him.

Mike's breath was warm and ragged against your neck as he pulled away, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with a husky whisper. "Path clear," he murmured, the words dipped in humor, a callback to the running joke the two of you shared during these secret, stolen moments.

Normally, it made you smile, but tonight, the reminder of your relationship's stealthy nature stung more than it amused.

You slid off the cold counter, his large hands steadying you by your hips. Without thinking, you reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his as you guided him toward your room.

Your thoughts swirled as you walked. The want you'd been carrying for months now sat heavy in your chest, threatening to spill over. You were tired of sneaking around, tired of pretending this was nothing more than casual fun. You wanted him, all of him in the open, without fear or pretense.

But with that hope came the sharp edge of fear that he wouldn't feel the same. The idea of losing him, of pushing him away by wanting too much, gnawed at you, silencing the words before they could even form.

Your thoughts were cut off when his hand slipped from yours to slide down to the curve of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze, a low chuckle coming from him as he pulled you closer, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you against him again and let his lips trail down to the side of your face.

You reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers, your breath hitching as his teeth scraped lightly against your pulse point.

By the time you pushed the door open and stepped inside, he kicked it shut behind him without missing a beat, his hands finding your waist again as he pressed you back against the wall. His lips were on yours instantly, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You clutched at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as he pressed closer, his body pinning you to the wall.

But then you pulled back enough to break the kiss, your chest heaving as you dropped your hands to his. His grip loosened, allowing you to sank to your knees in front of him.

The air shifted, thick with anticipation as you looked up at him, his dark eyes blown wide and locked on yours. His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he watched you reach for his belt, undoing the buckle and sliding the leather free before moving to the button and zipper of his jeans and tugging his pants down his hips. His boxers followed and your breath hitched as he sprang free, hard and already dripping with arousal.

His hand came to rest on your head, fingers curling lightly into your hair.

"You're fucking perfect like this," he murmured, his voice rough and dripping with heat, his thumb brushing against your scalp as if in encouragement.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your throat was tight with need as you leaned in, your lips parting to take him into your mouth. The first touch of your tongue against him drew a low, guttural groan from his throat, the sound vibrating in the air between you like a spark.

He tasted like salt and heat. Your tongue swirled around the tip, slow and deliberate, savoring the weight of him on your tongue as your hand gripped his thigh for balance.

Mike hissed through his teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him deeper, your lips stretching around him as you worked him with slow, deliberate precision. The texture of him was smooth and hot, the hardness of him pressing against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks.

"Shit, that's good," he muttered, his voice rough and strained as his hips rocked forward slightly. His free hand braced against the wall behind him, fingers flexing as he struggled to keep himself in check.

It spurred you on, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of his cock as you moved, your lips slick and swollen as you worked him over with unrelenting focus.

His breaths came heavier, more ragged, each exhale punctuated by a low groan or curse as you pushed him closer to the edge. You took him deeper, swallowing around him until he hit the back of your throat, the motion drawing a sharp gasp from him as his hips jerked forward.

"Just like that," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his head tipped back, exposing the strong line of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep from losing himself entirely.

Your mind spun, your thoughts a jumble of desperate emotions. You wanted him to see how devoted you were, how much you were willing to give him.

But more than that, you wanted him to let you in, to let the world see what you saw in these quiet, stolen moments. You wanted him to hold your hand in the daylight, to kiss you where anyone could see.

Mike leaned back against the wall, his head tipped back, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as you worked him over.

He was lost in the heat of it, his world narrowing to the slick warmth of your mouth, every nerve alight with pleasure as you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

Something was bugging him.

He couldn't ignore the way your movements felt too precise and mechanical, like you were going through the motions rather than reveling in the moment.

His brow furrowed, hips faltering as he looked down at you. His body screamed for him to let it go, to keep chasing that high you were so good at giving him. But his brain had other plans.

Mike's fingers flexed in your hair, his jaw tightening as he tried to focus on anything but the gnawing unease creeping into his chest, biting his lip as another surge of pleasure rolled through him.

Your brows were slightly knit together like you were concentrating too hard, weren't looking up at him with that mixture of lust and devotion that always made his heart stutter.

Shit.

"Alright, hold up," he said suddenly, his voice rough as he tightened his grip on your hair and pulled you back.

Your lips left him with a wet, obscene sound, your eyes flicking up to meet his in confusion as you knelt there, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen.

God, you looked so damn good like this. It took every ounce of composure not to just push you back down onto his aching dick.

"Yeah, sorry, I know," he said, letting out a strained, humorless laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I don’t appreciate the A-plus performance down there, but seriously… the hell’s going on with you?"

You blinked at him, your brows furrowing slightly as you started to shake your head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he shot back, his lips quaking into a lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're too quiet. Not in a sexy way, especially when you’re down there looking like you’re plotting an escape instead of sucking my dick."

"I'm not plotting anything," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as you moved to stand.

"Then what is it?" he pressed, his voice still light as he crouched slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Talk to me, babe. Now it’s in my head and I can’t exactly enjoy myself. You're freaking me out a little here."

"I told you, I'm fine," you said again, more forcefully this time, though the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Mike's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading as he studied you. "No, you're not." His voice softened slightly, his hands moving to cup your face, tilting it upward until you had no choice but to look at him. "C'mon. Spill. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to push the words back down, but his gaze was steady, warm and unrelenting, and before you knew it, the truth spilled out in a quiet, trembling voice.

"I'm tired of sneaking around."

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but no sound came out. He let his hands fall to his sides, his fingers twitching restlessly before he dragged them through his messy hair. His expression was a mixture of surprise and guilt, and he let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh but there was no humor in it.

"Okay. Wow. That's… yeah." he said finally, his voice low and uneven.

"That's all you have to say?" you asked, your voice was sharper than you intended, but the frustration that had been building inside you for months refused to stay bottled any longer.

Mike flinched at your tone, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for just a second before he plastered on a lopsided grin. "I get it. You're right. Totally. But, uh…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's not like it's that simple, you know?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion. "You're either with me or you're not. You're either proud of us or you're not."

"Whoa, okay," Mike said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. His grin turned sheepish, but there was a flicker of guilt, maybe, or fear in his eyes.

"I didn't say I wasn't proud of us. Don't twist my words, alright?"

"Then what are you saying, Mike?" you asked, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a quieter, shakier tone. "Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm some dirty secret you're ashamed of."

"Ashamed of you?" he repeated, his eyes widening in genuine disbelief. "No. No way. That's not—Jesus, no." He let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

"Then why, Mike?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly. "Why do we have to sneak around like this? Why can't we just—"

"Because people talk," he interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. He winced, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back at you. “Maybe they'll stop talking to me. Or you. Or both of us. Maybe it'll get weird with the group and we'll lose—"

"Them?" you interrupted, your voice rising. "You're more worried about losing them?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying," he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. "Stop twisting everything I'm trying to say."

"Then say it, Mike." You whispered through clenched teeth, your chest heaving as tears stung your eyes. "Say what you actually mean instead of hiding behind all this bullshit."

"I'm scared of what it'll mean if everyone knows. Of what we'll lose." He admitted, the words barely above a whisper. "But then I think about how you've put up with all my bullshit without ever asking for anything in return. And I hate that I've made you feel like you're not enough," he went on, his voice growing stronger, steadier.

His hands found your face, pulling you closer as his lips curved into a small, rueful smile. "You are fucking amazing. So, you know what?" He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Fuck everyone else. Seriously. I don't care anymore. They're gonna know. All of them. Because you're mine and I'm not hiding it anymore."

Your chest tightened at his words, your breath hitching as tears slipped down your cheeks. Mike wiped them away with his thumbs, his touch gentle as he cupped your face.

"Soon," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and promise. "Soon, everyone's gonna know. I'll make sure of it."

The kiss that followed was as consuming as it was desperate, lips devouring yours. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he pulled you back on your feet and guided you onto the bed, his body following close behind. The weight of him was grounding, his solid chest and broad shoulders pinning you in place as his lips worked a path down your neck, each drag of his stubble leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

His teeth scraped against the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you gasp. The sound only seemed to spur him on, his lips and tongue leaving the spot until it throbbed with a dull ache.

Your chest tightens with an overwhelming mix of love, relief and desire that coils tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

When he pulled back, his lips were slick and swollen, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hand slipped lower, cupping the curve of your ass, the rough pads of his fingers squeezing hard.

"You're needy tonight," he teased, his grin sharp and wolfish. But the slight tremor in his voice betrayed just how much he was affected, too.

Your reply was cut off by the sound of your belt being unbuckled, the metal clanking loudly in the stillness of the room. Mike's movements were impatient as he yanked your pants down, leaving you exposed to the cool air. His hands were on you again in an instant, one gripping your thigh to spread you open while the other pressed firmly against your entrance.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing, before one finally slipped inside. The stretch was sudden, sharp, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a sound.

"Don't you dare hold back," Mike said, his free hand sliding up to grip your jaw. "Let me hear you, babe."

You couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped as he added a second finger, the stretch making your toes curl. He moved with purpose, his fingers scissoring and curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," Mike hissed, his breath hot against your neck. "Still so goddamn tight. How is that even possible with how often I've been inside you?"

You had no answer, your brain too scrambled to form coherent words. Your back arched off the bed as his fingers pressed deeper, his pace quickening until the sound of his movements was obscene.

Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, he shifted, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your chest and stomach until your length was engulfed in his hand with a firm grip. He stroked you in time with his fingers, his thumb swiping over the head to smear the precum leaking there.

His mouth replaced his hand soon, tongue swirling around the tip before he took you in, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard. The sensation made your whole body jerk, a shaky moan escaping your lips.

His mouth working you over with the same frantic energy as his fingers. Occasionally, he'd pull away to kiss the inside of your thighs or murmur something against your skin.

When he finally pulled his fingers free, you whimpered at the loss, but soon you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

His eyes met yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded with zero hesitation and his lips twitched into a crooked grin.

He pushed in slowly, he was big and the feeling of him filling you completely burned in a way that made your breath hitch.

"Shit," Mike groaned, his voice strained as he bottomed out.

Mike didn't move at first, his hips flush against yours as you took the sheer, overwhelming weight of him inside you. His thick cock throbbed against your inner walls, stretching you wide.

"Fuck," Mike hissed, his voice low and broken, the curse dragged out like he could barely handle the way you gripped him.

The burn of the stretch began to fade, replaced by a maddening fullness that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He grunted, the sound deep and animalistic, his body trembling with restraint. "You feel that?" he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands gripped your thighs tighter. "Feel how hard you make me? How much I want you?"

You could only nod, your head falling back against the pillow hissing through clenched teeth.

Mike's restraint snapped. He pulled back fully this time, the drag of his cock against your walls slow and deliberate, making you feel every ridge, every pulse. Then, with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buried himself again, harder, deeper.

The movement ripped a sound from your throat that you couldn't suppress. Mike's hand clamped down on your thigh, spreading you wider as he found a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting a spot so deep and devastating that it made stars burst behind your eyes.

"Goddamn," he groaned, his voice raw and wrecked, his head dipping to press his lips to your throat. He bit down, his teeth scraping against your skin, and you arched into him, your hands clawing at his back, anything to keep yourself grounded.

Your walls tightened around him with every thrust. "I can feel you, babe. You're close, aren't you?" Mike murmured, his lips curling into a wolfish grin. He looked at you like you were a prey pinned beneath him, helpless yet tantalizingly willing to be devoured.

You tried to deny it, tried to hold back, but the relentless pace of his hips made it impossible. He adjusted his angle, tilting your hips up slightly.

Mike's voice was a guttural growl in your ear, vibrating through your entire body as his teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck. "Say you're mine," he demanded, his breath hot and ragged, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with each word. The deep timbre of his voice shot straight through you.

You couldn't respond. The words were trapped in your throat, strangled by the relentless rhythm of his hips as he drove into you again and again.

"Isn't that what you want?" Mike's voice dipped lower, rough and edged with frustration. He nipped at your neck, his teeth scraping over your pulse point before biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, hands clutching at the muscles there as you struggled to ground yourself. His cock filled you completely, the long, thick length of him stretching you.

"I asked you a question," he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes were blown wide with lust, his jaw clenched tight as he watched your expression twist with pleasure all because of him.

"Stubborn," he said, almost to himself, his tone laced with dark amusement. "Guess I'll just have to fuck it out of you." He adjusted his angle slightly.

The next thrust hit so devastatingly deep, that your voice broke. His cock filled you completely with every thrust, the drag of him against your walls driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You tried to talk back but Mike thrust into you again before you could speak, rough and unrelenting. You bit down hard on his neck in retaliation.

Mike's reaction was immediate. A throaty grunt rumbled from his chest, the deep vibration rolling through your body as his thrusts became rougher, more erratic. "You wanna play like that?" he growled, his voice tinged with dark amusement. "Fine"

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he loomed over you.

He chased your lips, kissing you with a bruising strength as his thrusts grew erratic, his pace quickening as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cock dragged against your walls with every movement, the thick length of him filling you completely, relentlessly and forcing your body to adjust to the girth of him as he drove into you.

"You're so close," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. You gonna come for me, babe?"

You could only nod, your head falling back as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it finally broke. Your entire body tensing as you spilled over his hand and your stomach.

Mike wasn't far behind. The way you tightened around him as you came had his rhythm faltering, his movements becoming erratic. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained and guttural, his hips snapping against yours one final time as he buried himself deep.

You felt the heat of his release as he came, filling you completely, his body trembling against yours. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

The bed creaked loudly beneath Mike's weight as he flopped down next to you, sprawling out like a man utterly spent. He let out a low groan of satisfaction, running a hand through his damp hair as he caught his breath. "I think I might've broken something… and I don't just mean the bed." He muttered, his voice still rough from the intensity of what had just happened.

You snorted, turning on your side to rest your head on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His skin was warm and slightly sticky, but you didn't care. The comfort of his solid presence was enough to lull you into a blissful haze.

"You okay down there?" Mike asked, his tone light and teasing as his hand came up to rub slow circles on your back. "Or did I ruin you for life?"

You smirked against his chest, rolling your eyes even though he couldn't see it. "Pretty sure you ruined me the first time we did this. This is just the aftermath."

His laugh was loud and genuine, his chest shaking beneath you. "You're welcome, by the way." He said, his hand slipping lower to give your ass a playful squeeze.

You hummed, too content to come up with a snarky reply and closed your eyes as his fingers trailed up and down your spine.

"So," Mike said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. "When do you wanna tell everyone about us? You know, the big reveal. 'Hey, everyone! I've been banging the hottest guy in the group and now he's with me, so hands off!’ That kind of thing."

Your face heated, but you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you. "Wow. Real subtle there, Mike."

"We gotta make it dramatic. Catch them off guard. Keep it spicy." He replied, his grin turning mischievous.

You raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Mike's eyes lit up with a devilish glint as he shifted to rest his hands behind his head. "Breakfast. Tomorrow morning. We wait until everyone's settled in, you know? Then, right as they're mid-sip or mid-bite, we drop the bomb."

You couldn't help but laugh at the image he was painting. "So your plan is to potentially choke someone with the news?"

"Exactly, fewer people to deal with if they can't breathe for a minute. It's efficient."

Shaking your head, you pressed a hand to his chest, giving him a mock shove. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you love me," he shot back, his grin softening just enough to let a hint of sincerity slip through.

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth in your chest spreading. "Unfortunately for me, yeah. I do."

Mike chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go. Now, get some rest, babe. You're gonna need your energy for round two later."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest remained as you settled against him, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin.

[his-psycho-doll]

I want to drown in you, in your scent, your voice, your eyes, your everything. Let me drown in everything that is you.

[delisland]

men n’ their pretty girls/boys ^.^ admirin' you like a prized possession, well— you are their prized possession. The micro expressions u make when you’re talking about things you like, the things that frustrate you, it’s just the little things they notice

all. the. time.

There’s something so beautiful about taking your time to notice the little things about the ones you love.

gojo, kuroo, nanami, sakusa, Izuku midoriya, aizawa, itadori, kageyama, mirio, bakuthot, curley, oh, n' did I say gojo n kuroo 😜😜?

note 🔊 y’all want me ta make a nsfw version of this? I don’t mind at all, it’s prolly jus gonna b based on the feedback on this 🐿️

[lovebeautyvenus]

out of all the batfam, bruce's relationship with stephanie is genuinely the most interesting to me, because literally what is going on there? what are they doing? how do they feel about each other, like actually.

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

[suiana]

I request you have a good day - 😈

I love you this is written for you (octopus hybrid because I love monsters)

✎ yandere! octopus hybrid who is obsessed with you! you're so small compared to him and it's so cute :( no, you're not short. he's just 10 times larger than you. deep sea creature moment aha 😂

✎ yandere! octopus hybrid who can't help but want to keep you all to himself. you're so precious to him, his darling treasure! and you're all his! even though you may not cooperate much now, he's sure you'll give in sooner or later!

✎ yandere! octopus hybrid who saved you when your submarine sunk in the deep depths of the ocean. why did he only save you and not the others? uh... they all died already haha! yeah totally not because he was the one who brought down your submarine... yeah...

✎ yandere! octopus hybrid who's looking for a way to shrink himself down to your size. otherwise he'd not be able to fit in you! D: don't worry! he'll think of something :3 you and him will have so many children once he finds a way!

with tentacles wrapped around your waist, the giant 10 meter (32 feet) octopus hybrid stares down at you with gentle eyes.

"cute... so small... all mine..."

you frowned at him, squirming slightly in his slimy tentacles. you didn't want this. it wasn't your plan to be captured by a 32 feet octopus hybrid who was obsessed with you. because not only was he the reason why you were stuck in the ocean, but he had also killed off your other crew members just to make sure you wouldn't have anyone else but him!

initially, you were grateful for him. completely naive and way too trusting of this deep sea creature. with an upper body of a human male's and the lower body of an octopus (aka tentacles), you were way too fascinated with him to understand why he would keep you alive.

but you slowly snapped out of your fascinated stupor and demanded for him to let you go. unluckily for you, it was too late and he had already finalised all of his plans to keep you with him, to make you his mate.

all you could do now was to try and rebel against him, to push back his plans of officially marking you as his mate. though it seems like it won't be for long until he finally gets what he wants.

"cute darling... soon we will be one."

[sanzaibian]

This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.

Thank you very much for organizing it !

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To @fafnir19

You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.

You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterday’s problems are today’s problems, and today’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.

But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.

So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in today’s gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :

“Nathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure everyone wants to bag him !”

Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them – if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least that’s what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You don’t actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite… unusual.

But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You won’t be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if you’re too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.

That’s why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.

“Greetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.”

You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.

Is he… actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected… and more attractive… but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal – a business proposal, you guess – was aimed at you.

“Oh, er…” You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. “Greetings to you too, sir… what is that proposal about ?”

He smiles when you call him ‘sir’. Somehow, this smile seems almost… predatory ? Of some kind ?

“I’d be willing to place some of my fortune in your care… therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.” He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your company’s expectations. - I… I’ll think about it, sir…” You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !” He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. “Here’s my business card, for when you’ve taken your decision.”

On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, you’re immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.

And the door if you dare refuse.

That’s why you’re now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lion’s den.

The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitz’s office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.

“Enter.” The low and sultry voice orders.

You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.

“Hello, Mr. Nostitz.” You start, but as you’re about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So you’re here to discuss my… proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.”

He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.

“You see… ever since my son decided that our wealth was… problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.”

Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? … it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the ass…

“I’m sorry sir, I-” You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.” He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. “These… potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And you’re the perfect man for it. - Sir, I’m sorry to say that, but I don’t know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !” You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.” Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. “However, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and it’s been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this… treatment.”

At least he was thoughtful, and didn’t ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.

“And, this treatment…” You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. “What does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.” He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. “Let’s just say that it may trigger a few… changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.”

Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life… You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.

Such was Mr. Nostitz’s plan.

“I… I’m interested.” You finally manage, feeling it’s safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - That’s perfect. Then, I’d ask you to sign those papers, please.”

You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.

“Then we should start now, don’t you say ? Please drink this.” He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okay…”

You were not expecting to start this so soon, but you’re quite weak to the strength of his voice… So you drink it. It doesn’t taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but it’s not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.

“Are you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !”

You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t the time to go. See, it’s already late, so you won’t be able to go back to work.” He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you don’t understand why he’s stopping you like that. - I’m sorry, sir, but I… should really go home.” You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, don’t you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?”

You freeze.

You didn’t know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you… However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.

“Y-yes, of course, but I… need to get some things from home ! I can’t stay here with only what I have on me !” Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Don’t worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what you’re used to, but… everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what I’m saying.” He snidely smiles to you. - I’ll… see what I can do with…” You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isn’t the hardest thing to do. - That’s great ! The butler will lead you to your room.”

On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.

The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, you’re disappointed when you look inside the mirror and… it’s still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.

This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If it’s where you’re going to stay in the near future, you’d want to know where to find things of interest.

You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms… that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size – though they’re a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough – as if Mr. Nostitz knew you’d come. However, you’re surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits you’d expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, there’s also some more young – for lack of a better word – clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.

You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that you’d never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.

You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.

That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.

Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit… brighter than usual ?

It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.

You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah… yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you weren’t in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesn’t look right…

It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.

Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !

You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isn’t here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy… You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that you’re actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.

A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair… how fortunate… So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.

However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. You’re actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasn’t impossible in the real world !

Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. You’re so happy about all that that you don’t even register the fact that you’re coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague don’t ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you… really couldn’t care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.

The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. You’d usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of other’s frustrations, but somehow, you’re so happy that you just don’t care. Yet again.

As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how you’re greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for you…

You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, you’ll be back to your usual grind.

Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you haven’t seen him in the whole day… you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired… You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that you’re in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.

But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadn’t seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.

Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterday’s opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butler’s hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :

“Why isn’t Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitz’s schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.” Explains calmly the butler, as if he’s seen this kind of tantrums many times. - That’s… understandable…” You answer, starting to calm down.

You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. It’s not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz… he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and it’s not like it was love at first sight… After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.

And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.

On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer – for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.

This life is becoming progressively comfier – not that it was painful by any means – and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk… all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.

You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estate’s forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks aren’t going away, and work is just getting so boring...

But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !

So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you don’t actually care, they shouldn’t have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as you’re about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isn’t addressed to you, but rather at a guest.

“Cassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !” As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you can’t continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !” A well-dressed woman – Cassandra, you assume – with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isn’t able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if you’re part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !” She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitz’s smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If you’re talking like that… then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.”

Second son ? You thought he only had one ! … and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.

“Stop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !”

He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :

“I present to you my son. Leandra’s second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.”

A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadn’t squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and you’re quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.

Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.

Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.

“This… is ridiculous ! You can’t just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - I’m not inventing anyone. He was just… raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandra’s son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.” Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. “Of course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isn’t he ?”

His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you… can’t seem to be able to refuse his request.

Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitz’s authority that you don’t want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :

“Yes, of course, father.”

You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.

You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldn’t expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you don’t actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.

However, now, you don’t work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasn’t yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.

But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldn’t care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement… then you are more than willing to pay it all.

Besides, it’s not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.