#so good I love the lines and the slightly warm colours

[star2fishmeg]

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

can i get a fluff # 38 with Quinn please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy Halloween🎃

FLUFF #38 "This isn't what it looks like!"

📞 dialling…

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. Halloween night was supposed to be some kick-ass night of partying and making memories to look back on, dressed up in embarrassing, funny or even incredible costumes but it just couldn’t turn out that way this year. It was just embarrassing, especially since it was an NHL Halloween party and she was spending a large portion of it draped over a toilet bowl in her bandit costume, retching up all the vodka cranberries Brock had somehow convinced her were a good idea. 

Leant against the sink cabinet in his sheriff’s get-up, Quinn stroked her back soothingly, doing his best every now and then to brush any loose hairs away from her mouth, worry written all over his face. It wounded him, seeing her like that, but as she once said, ‘what goes down, sometimes must come back up.’ It wasn’t how he expected his Halloween to go, especially not his early years of being the captain. 

When y/n took his hands with half-lidded eyes under the low colourful lights and started leading him out of the living room and towards the bathroom, he thought of the best, not-so-romantic but certainly enjoyable scenario a young couple could have at a party. Instead, she’d B-lined for the toilet, and he’d dropped to his knees and hands straight to her hair to keep it out of the way. 

“‘Atta girl, I got you,” he softly reassured, tearing off pieces of toilet paper and handing it to her, “we’re not leaving until you’re empty, even if I have to stick my fingers down your throat.”

She groaned, wiping her mouth and discarding the tissue in the toilet, sitting back on her heels, ripping off another piece of toilet paper, and dabbing it under her eyes to catch the welled tears. Thank God for waterproof mascara. “That was one- maybe two times and it’s not like you haven’t chosen to put your fingers in my mouth before.” 

“Different context though, very different context, pretty girl. Are you feeling better?” He chuckled, moving from his sitting position to a crouch, hands on his knees. 

“Yeah, thank you, again. Please don’t let me out of your sight now, Brock can be a terrible influence when he’s had vodka.” Y/n nodded, standing up and straightening out her outfit, Quinn running his hand through his hair, his shirt slightly untucking itself from constant position changing every five minutes. 

She took a glance in the mirror, screwing her face up at her smeared lipstick and used her finger to make herself look presentable at least. A fond smile spread across his lips, chest meeting her back as his thick arms wound around her waist firmly, nose burying itself into the crook of her neck and his eyelashes fluttered closed, relishing in the peace and quiet he had with her before venturing back out into the wild. Cherishing her floral perfume, the minutes when he could float on cloud nine without someone hooting and hollering in the back at him. Y/n leaned her head against his, letting his body melt like wax into hers and she smiled.

“Love you s’much, you know that, right?” he asked with a deep voice, muffled by her skin and clothes slightly. 

Thumbs rubbing gently over his arms, the hairs and warm skin, she hummed, “I love you too, more than words can describe.” 

For a minute the only sounds were the subdued music from the communal space and the buzz of the light, controlled breathing hot on her neck until he pulled away, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. She fussed around with her hair, attempting to make it less of a mess but messy enough to match her costume, Quinn’s love-sick puppy gaze watching her with adoration in his eyes, chest swelling with warmth. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way, and they’d never live it down. Quinn let y/n slip past before closing the door behind him innocently, only to look up to make direct eye contact with bright blue ones and Prince Charming from Shrek smirking directly at him, eyes occasionally jumping to y/n. They both froze, hearts suddenly hammering in their chests for no reason. At all. But Brock was ruthless when it came to teasing Quinn, watching the sweat shimmer on the captain’s neck and the words slipped out too fast before Quinn could think of a way to play it off honestly.

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

It looked exactly what Brock thought it was; sweating, dishevelled hair, y/n’s missing lipstick, still slightly smeared under her lip, lovestruck eyes, untucked shirt. It was exactly how Quinn imagined his Halloween would go.

Brock’s smirk quirked into a grin like he’d struck gold, and he rubbed his beard, nodding cockily, like he was proud, “Huggy, you dog.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i'll love you forever if anyone knows what the title is a quote from. anyway, i was craving primal, desperate, bloody sex with alucard so here it is 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.2k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, biting, marking, blood drinking, oral (fem. receiving), overstimulation (male and fem.), men whimpering and moaning

A desperate noise leaves your lips as his fangs sink into your neck. There’s pain but a rush of pleasure too as his canines withdraw and his lips wrap gently yet eagerly around the wound, your blood pooling on his tongue, sluicing down his throat, staining his teeth red and pink. And when he kisses you, it’s with a mouth of heat and copper and yet it’s not off-putting in the slightest as his tongue slides against yours and he then buries his face in your neck again, lapping at the punctures over your throat, warm breath panting against your bloody skin. 

A moan leaves his lips and your hand tangles in his gossamer hair, the ends darkened and stuck together where they’ve swiped through the blood on your bodies. He’s not the only one leaving marks through as your other hand is scratching angry, vengeful lines down his back. He’s on top of you, nestled between your soft thighs, the insides which are already painted with fang punctures and love bites, having been thoroughly pampered and prepared with his skillful tongue before he even considered taking his own pleasure for you. 

His heart might be slower than yours but every beat of it belongs to you so as your pulse thrums through your veins like a storm, he listens to its flutters and feels the warmth of its work on his tongue. His alabaster skin is also smeared with the red liquid. Your life isn’t like his: it’s warm, red, brief and he wants to worship it. Your life flowing from your broken skin isn’t unappreciated at all and you’ll be treated like a queen of queens after this but for now he wants to love every part of you, of your nature, to feed from you if only to prove how his immortal life rests in your living hands. 

Your thighs squeeze his narrow waist, heels digging into his back to push him deeper into where he’s pumping in and out of your welcoming, wet walls. Between your flowing blood and arousal, your bodies meet with repeated wet smacks and he looks at you with lidded eyes the colour of winter sun. He’s beautiful – unspeakably so – and it only makes you pull him into another kiss, your tongue sliding past his fangs and tasting the bitterness of your blood and arousal that’s filled his mouth. 

The kiss breaks and he rests his forehead against yours, brow pinched in pleasure as he thrusts into you, stretching you sweetly as his tip kisses your cervix each time, hips angled to reach each sweet spot of yours along the way to keep those sweet moans and whines pouring past your bloodied lips. His breath mingles with yours and a whimper squeezes out of his pale throat. 

“You’re so warm… so, so warm.” He props himself up with a hand on the headboard and looks down at your writhing figure beneath him, breasts bouncing enticingly with each firm smack of his hips against yours. “I want to see you come again, I want to feel it.” His eyes are watery with how overwhelmingly good he feels, crystalline drops clinging to his long lashes. His other hand ventures down to your clit where he begins to rub sticky hearts, pressing down on the sensitive button to feel your walls clench around him. “So pretty… you’re so pretty, my love.” He sighs out when you throw your head back and he feels the way you tighten on his cock. 

He wants to keep on looking over you like this but he can’t resist the crimson splashed over your throat like sweet syrup and his tongue is lapping at the punctures he’s left in your flesh again. 

“Come for me, darling.” He coaxes, voice slightly muffled with the tip of his tongue still on your warm skin, “Come on my cock and show me your prettiest self.” He smiles when your moans go up in pitch and he can feel your thighs squirm and tense. With his one hand, he keeps on pressing and rubbing your clit, rapidly flicking the pads of his fingers over it, but the other goes to the back of your knee, pressing on it to hold you open so that you cannot close your legs when the pleasure washes over you. You wouldn’t be able to close your legs with him between them anyway but he wants an unobstructed view of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over so that he can see how you’ve made a halo of cream at his base, length shining with how much he can turn you on, the insides of your thighs smudged with blood and darkened with love bites. 

“A-Adrian, please.” You cry out as you begin to tremble and all that pressure building up in your belly finally collapses in on itself, sending utter bliss washing through your body. He bites you again, over your breast this time, and lets out a muffled moan of his own. You’re contracting so tightly around him that it’s got his hips stuttering and everything about you from your feel to your looks, your sounds, your scent, your taste has him going right over the edge with you. A whimper escapes him as he slows down his steady but firm pace, now just grinding into you as he pumps you full of warm cum. He leans down over you more and shifts your hips so that it’s less likely for it to spill out of you. 

You’re both pushed to your most sensitive states but he doesn’t care and continues to grind into that soft spot of yours with his tip over and over and over, pulling soft, wet noises from your fluttering walls. He fucks his cum deeper into you, not wanting a drop to spill from your body for now and yet he’s already anticipating the sight of seeing it leak from you when he pulls out. Alucard’s body feels as though it’s on fire with the overstimulation settling into his being and yet he’s enjoying you far too much to care and with those beautiful tears prickling the corners of your glittery eyes, he can’t find it in himself to stop. 

He nuzzles into your bloodied neck as his arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to him and encouraging your spine into an arch. You’re trembling like a leaf in the wind but he’s right there with you, desperate sounds slipping past bloodied lips for the both of you. Eventually, he reaches the pinnacle of that sweet fire in his veins and he finally goes still. He presses a kiss to your collarbone reverently and then slowly pulls out, mindful of how sensitive the both of you are. Just as anticipated, he’s blessed with the sight of your puffy pussy that glistens with your juices and leaks his thick ropes of cum, framed by your pretty thighs that he’s bruised with his mouth and punctures with his teeth, smudged with blood. 

He lays down beside you and pulls you into his arms, bodies damp with sweat and blood. You curl up against his toned, scarred chest and he’s holding the most precious thing in the world. He smooths your hair back and away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead as he closes his eyes, coming down from his high. He cups your cheek and then kisses that next.

After around ten minutes, he gets up to begin doting on you like royalty. You deserved every bit of pleasure he was capable of giving and now you deserve every ounce of care. 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @koyunsoncizeri @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @welcome2thesaltyspitoon @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @aconstructofamind @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things @weasleytwins-41

[nvuy]

I saw the Boothill text messages leaks and he physically can not cry. How does this info make u feel 🎤

GIVE ME THAT 🎤

“Theoretical question…” Boothill gratefully takes the glass of wine you hand to him before you sidle up next to him in the grass. “…But say the sun was g’nna blow up tomorrow, and you were the only one that knew about it. What would you do?”

He pulls off his hat and rests it by his feet. He feels you staring at him. Your gaze is warm, yet something about it bothers him. Like you’re trying to read him.

He presses his lips together in a thin line.

“That’s definitely a question,” you murmur beneath your breath. “Why?”

He says nothing for a moment.

The warm breeze is gentle.

He’s still staring at the sunset when he replies, “dunno. ‘M curious.” His words are accompanied by a casual shrug.

He hears you shift, maybe slightly uncomfortable. The wine in your glass sloshes.

He takes a sip from his own glass. It’s not his favourite, but you can’t really afford anything to his tastes. But, for what it’s worth, the wine is nice, and good enough to take his mind off how his metal fingers still seem to tremble when he mentions the end of the world.

Sweet and benign on his tongue, just like you. He hums and studies the drink through the glass. Maybe cheap booze ain’t too shabby.

“I guess I’d spend it with my family,” you say. You, too, shrug.

“Would you tell ‘em?” He turns his head to look at you. “That the world’s endin’?”

He watches as you inhale.

Then, you say, “no.” There’s a light shake of your head to accompany your words. “I don’t want to scare them.”

That’s what he did, too. Many, many years ago.

He remembers seeing red smeared all over her little face. How it slowly turned a deep purple as she held her breath. How it then faded completely with its colour, and he lost sight of her gorgeous pinkish cheeks when she took her final breaths.

“What would ya say to them in the last minute?”

He can’t remember her voice anymore.

That lump in his throat swells, and it feels like a cold marble. He’s so tired of trying to swallow it.

“I think I’d be too busy crying like a baby, but…” It was a lighthearted joke as you nudge him in the side. He only lets out a humourless puff of air through his nose. “I’d tell them I love them. That they’re the best people I’ve ever known.”

Something heavy weighs in his chest like hot iron, burning and bubbling at the base of his throat. “Yeah. I get it.”

You touch his cheek gently. “You okay?”

He’s not. “‘M fine.”

“Would you stay with me?” you ask him. “Theoretically. If the world ended tomorrow?”

That cracks a smile on his face, though it’s light. “Sure I would. Theoretically.” The sun always felt nice on his face.

Your skin was even nicer against his. You rest against his shoulder, and he leans his head to press his ear to the side of your face.

“If my metal body’s good for anythin’, I’d try to shield you from the blast.”

You snort. “I appreciate it, though I don’t think even a cyborg can withstand the sun exploding.” You reach up and pet his hair. The white strands pool along your fingertips like running water.

He leans into your touch. “Still. I gots ta try.”

You sigh and flick his forehead lightly. “All theoretical, Boothill.”

The cowboy hums, and you feel it ripple across your skin like waves. “Course.”

“Hopefully the world doesn't end tomorrow,” you add. “You still haven’t taught me how to play the guitar.”

Boothill turns his head so his nose presses to the side of your face. Although his skin is cold, you feel warm and fuzzy. “Even if the world ends, I’d be happy right here.” He reaches down and pats your lap firmly.

He feels your face heat up and you groan. “You’re terrible.”

His cold lips press to your temple and he snickers. “You like it.”

[luveline]

hi baby if you feel up for it i'd love to request some fluffy fluff with sirius. maybe he's usually so reserved and stoic (because, cmon) and they're out with his friends and they're all making fun of him for being so lovey and doting on r

love u sm!

love you!! ♡ fem, 1k

"This is really lovely," Sirius says, your face turned to the light in his hand. "It's bright without looking out of place. Blue is your colour." 

"Thanks, bug," you murmur back, holding still as he cleans the smudged mascara from your lower lash line.

"Every colour is your colour," he amends. "It goes nice with your top." 

You rub your lips together slowly, sticky with gloss. His noticing makes all your make up efforts worth it. 

Sirius wipes his thumb into the tissue you'd given him and tucks it away, stroking your cheek one last time with his other hand before stealing yours to twine your fingers. Your friends have carried on into the pub, but it doesn't take long to catch them. Remus was kind enough to wait at the entrance, eyebrows raised. 

"What?" Sirius asks. 

"Nothing." It's clearly something. "At all." 

You figure it's between them and skirt past Remus with a smile, eager to hide away in the warm wooded walls of The Firestroke. The boys filter in behind you, following you through the entryway and past the bar to the table James has commandeered with Emmeline. 

He's fiddling with her hair, readjusting a bobby pin, another held between his lips. "It looks nice, Emme, you should have it out of your face more often." 

"Marl says that all the time. Hey!" She beams at you. "Come and sit by me." 

You laugh happily and slide onto the seat next to her. You, Emme, and James sit on the booth side while Sirius and Remus set themselves down opposite. A waitress arrives and Sirius doesn't wait for the others, ordering a round of drinks for the entire group, wherever they may be. They'll filter in soon enough. 

"And extra cherries for my girl, please," Sirius says, nodding to you as he does. "Thanks." 

"Ooh, for his girl," James croons. 

"Remember when he'd order stuff for me like that?" Remus asks. 

Sirius rolls his eyes, offering his hands to you from across the table. Honestly, you're slightly surprised at his behaviour today, but you won't look a gift horse in the mouth. You lay your hands in his obligingly and relax as he begins to draw shapes into the fronts of your fingers, tiny stroking lines that feel ridiculously good, even under the eyes of your friends. "He's lying. I'd purposefully get his food wrong when we were teenagers so he'd have to go up to the counter and correct it." 

"Like exposure therapy I never signed up for," Remus sighs. "It worked, too." 

Sirius laughs. He's handsome to begin with, the last burst of a tan from summer's end on his skin, his hair dark and lush in the shimmering light, and when he laughs it's a tenfold effect, the grey of his eyes suddenly mesmerising, the wicked curve of his smile softened into a sweeter thing that begs to be kissed, or admired at the very least. You let him keep one hand but turn the other inward to give him similar treatment, rubbing your fingertips up and down his palm in a ticklish wave. 

"Do that to me, mate, there's a good lad," James says, offering his hand. Emmeline bats it away. 

"Awfully jealous today, aren't they?" Sirius asks you, ignoring their teasing to curl your fingers in and cover them. 

"I…" You're not sure what to say. Does he not realise how sweet he's being? Publicly? He's not usually this open. 

"You okay?" 

"Fine, just…" Words fail you twice. You cringe at your lack of explanation, but Sirius doesn't falter in his nice touches. It shouldn't shock you when he slides his chair tight against the table and pulls your hands ever closer, his top lip scratchy with hair as he leans down to kiss your knuckles. "Siri." 

"Yes, darling?"

"Jesus," Marl says, announcing her presence with a faked gag. "What's your problem, Black?" 

"I'm deeply in love, McKinnon. Not that you'd know what that feels like." 

You melt in your chair as he kisses a short path to your wrist. You could write Marlene a ten thousand word essay on love if she needed it, that's how adored he's got you feeling. 

"Absolutely vile."

"So sweet!" Mary denies, plopping herself down in the chair beside Sirius', all pink tulle and flowery smells. Any other day you'd be jealous of her in a good-natured but undeniably insecure manner, terrified that Sirius was gonna turn to her and see her in all her dewy beauty, but he doesn't so much as look up, your hands now rubbed against his cheek. 

"He's had a bit of catnip or something," Remus says. 

"It's the eyeshadow," you try to explain. 

Sirius lifts his head severely. "It looks perfect, but it's definitely not the eyeshadow. I'd feel just as mad about you if you were covered in soot." 

"Good to know," you say breathlessly. 

"Oh, so you're feeling pathetic today?" Marl asks.

Sirius sighs as though he's been greatly inconvenienced and sits up properly, casting his gaze around the group for a lick of sense between them, if his slack eyebrows are anything to go off of. "You're all wrong. I'm this pathetic for her every day of the week." 

"Then what's with the PDA?" James asks incredulously. 

"Mate, first of all, look at her. And if you must know, it's our anniversary." 

You flinch, your gaze jumping to his. The group erupts with well wishes and 'why didn't you say so's, and James slaps his card on the table, insisting that the round is on him to celebrate. Your heart races as you make the calculations in your head, calming as you realise that nothing falls on today's date, not a half month nor a first date. 

"Sirius?" you ask while everyone's distracted. 

He takes your hand again and begins kissing your knuckles once more. "I'm lying," he says, as you'd figured, scratching your fingers with his stubble. "That's what he gets for prying… You really do look lovely tonight." 

You nearly swallow your tongue. "Thank you. You look lovely, too." 

He smiles, twining your fingers together to rest his face against the back of your hand. "Thanks, angel." 

[simplygojo]

GhostFace Ep. 4 - Satoru Gojo

Author's Note: Episode 4 of the GhostFace Series is FINALLY out, I have included a few anon kinktober requests in this one, so I will respond to those requests with the link to this fic...I HOPE UR ALL ENJOYING THESE, KINKTOBER IS DRAINING ME BUT ITS WORTH IT I LOVE Y'ALL <3

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Kinks: Blindfold Kink & Sensory Deprivation

Word Count: 2.7K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, oral, fingering, light spanking, overstimulation, sensory deprivation.

As you walked toward Gojo’s apartment, an eerie chill hung in the air, like a fog that clung to your skin. Gojo had teased you all day about a Halloween “surprise mission,” but you hadn’t expected the strange quiet that awaited you. 

When you reached his door, it was already slightly ajar, the lock glinting faintly in the dim hallway light.

A sliver of unease wormed its way into your chest as you nudged the door open, peering into the shadowed room. 

The usual warm ambiance was absent, replaced by a stark quiet that heightened your senses. A glance at the side table confirmed the phone was off the hook, emitting a faint static hum, underscoring the silence. 

Every instinct warned you to turn back, but curiosity—and a thrill of anticipation—compelled you forward.

“Gojo?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you stepped into the dim room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that made your heart race.

You turned around towards the door you had walked through, and there he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Surprise, y/n,” he drawled, his voice slipping through the mask, each word a blend of teasing danger and the familiar confidence that only Gojo could command.

He wore the infamous Ghostface mask, its dark, hollow eyes concealing his mischievous blue ones.

He wore no robe like in the movies, opting instead for a tightly fitted black T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, showing off every defined line of muscle. 

The fabric stretched taut over his biceps, accentuating the power in his arms as he leaned with a relaxed yet dangerous posture.

The sight of him like this, the usually playful and teasing Gojo now shrouded in this eerie, dominant persona, made your breath catch in your throat. 

Something about the Ghostface mask paired with his physique—the tension of the shirt, the hint of strength radiating beneath it—ignited a deep thrill inside you, one that mixed arousal with an edge of fear. 

You couldn’t look away; every inch of him was mesmerizing, from the way his chest rose and fell to the sharpness of his silhouette.

“What…what is all this?” You managed, a flicker of nervous excitement betraying you.

“Just a little game for Halloween,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he advanced toward you. “Don’t you trust me?”

He was close enough now that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper, like the thrill of an approaching storm. 

Before you could respond, his fingers brushed your cheek, then slid into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back, you noticed the familiar black fabric that he usually wore over his eyes.

The sight of it sent your heart racing. He dangled it before you, a devilish grin no doubt hidden behind his mask. 

“Eyes on me until you can’t anymore,” he murmured, stepping behind you.

You felt his breath, warm and steady against the side of your neck as he slipped the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into absolute darkness. 

With your vision obscured, the rest of your senses sharpened, each one waiting, straining for the next sound, the next sensation.

“Can you see anything?” His voice was low, resonant, like a spell that thrummed in the quiet.

“No,” you whispered, the thrill of surrender making your body hyper-aware of his proximity.

“Good,” he said softly, a smirk colouring his words. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He moved in front of you, his fingers grazing your collarbone, igniting a heat that spiralled outward, consuming any lingering hesitation. 

The air grew heavy, and without your sight, you were acutely aware of every movement, every touch. His hand drifted down, his fingers teasing along your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered, fingers ghosting over your skin, barely making contact.

You nodded, every nerve ending attuned to his touch, the anticipation building to a near-unbearable level. 

His hands trailed down to your wrists, firm but gentle, guiding them up as he pinned them above your head. A low chuckle escaped him as he shifted closer, pressing his body against yours.

With the blindfold still on, you could only imagine the look on his face. 

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his tone somewhere between teasing and curious.

“I—” You began, but the words died on your lips as he tightened his grip slightly, heightening the sense of restraint. The feeling of him controlling every move, every shift, drove you wild.

The air shifted as he moved, his lips brushing your ear. 

“Are you afraid yet?” He asked, his breath warm against your skin, making you shiver.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice barely a murmur.

“Good.” His response was a low growl, a delicious edge that left you breathless.

He moved one hand lower, grazing your hip, pressing you back until your body was flush against the wall. 

His fingers tightened around your wrist, and then you felt it—a sharp, stinging sensation as his hand came down in a swift, calculated spank against your ass. 

The sting of it spread heat through you, a rush of adrenaline and desire that left you panting.

“What was that for?” You gasped, struggling to steady your voice.

“For testing my patience,” he replied smoothly, his fingers trailing along the curve of your hip. “I think you need a reminder to behave.”

You swallowed, breath coming in shallow gasps as he delivered another spank, harder this time, his hand lingering afterward, the warmth of his palm searing into your skin. 

The pressure of his touch kept you grounded, the stinging warmth a constant reminder of his control.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice low and dark, laced with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine. 

“The way your body reacts when you can’t see?”

“Yes,” you breathed, voice trembling as he leaned in closer, the mask grazing your cheek.

With your vision gone, each touch felt amplified, each kiss more consuming. 

You felt his fingers press firmly against your neck, tilting your head as he grazed his lips down your jawline, slow and teasing, his breath hot against your skin. 

Your senses reeled, straining to capture every movement, every sound, every inch of him.

The sound of his laughter echoed in your ear, sending another thrill of excitement through you. 

“You’re completely at my mercy now, y/n,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “And you’re going to love every second of it.”

He held you firmly as his other hand continued its exploration, dragging down your sides, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pressed his body against yours, every inch of him demanding and relentless. 

Each sensation, each teasing caress and firm grip, blurred together, becoming part of a visceral experience that consumed you.

Finally, you felt his hands slip to your waist, gripping you firmly as he brought his lips back to your ear. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the hint of a smirk audible in his voice.

“No,” you whispered, every word weighted with desire. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Good girl.” The words sent a flush of warmth through you, and his grip tightened as he leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before he dragged his lips downward, each movement slow and deliberate, his mouth a torturous blend of tenderness and dominance.

Every touch, every word, every whispered command heightened the sensation, his control absolute as he continued his exploration, making you feel as though you were suspended in the dark, caught between fear and longing, utterly and completely his.

His gloved hands slipped down your waist, pausing just below your hips before kneeling, his hot breath brushing against the skin of your inner thighs.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone so soft and deceptively comforting, as if he weren’t about to drive you out of your fucking mind. 

One hand slid up, slipping between your thighs and nudging them apart. 

His fingers grazed you with the lightest touch, teasing until you were aching, his chuckle reverberating in the quiet. “Already so needy, aren’t you?”

You bit back a moan, clenching your fists as his mouth closed over you, finally pressing his tongue against you. He started slowly, agonizingly gentle, savouring every reaction you gave him. 

You gasped, gripping at the fabric of his shirt, completely helpless to the onslaught of sensations as his hands held you firmly in place, fingers digging into your hips.

The contrast between his soft, warm mouth and his unyielding grip sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, each stroke of his tongue a calculated torment. 

His pace quickened, and soon, he was relentless—alternating between firm, slow licks and rapid flicks of his tongue, consuming every whimper, every breathless gasp you let slip.

“Please… Gojo,” you whispered, voice breaking as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering, only intensifying as your hips began to buck against him involuntarily.

“Oh, you’re begging already?” He taunted, pulling back for just a moment, letting his hot breath tease over your sensitive skin. 

“I’m not stopping until I feel you fall apart.” With that, he returned, mouth working over you with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming. 

His tongue teased and traced patterns, alternating between fast, shallow licks and deep, thorough strokes that left you writhing.

The pleasure built up so quickly, so intensely, that your legs began to tremble. 

You tried to shift away, but his grip tightened, holding your hips steady as he took his time with you, relentless in his mission to coax every sound, every shiver, every broken gasp from your lips. 

You were barely aware of anything except him—the feel of his hands, the insistent pressure of his mouth, and the blackness behind the blindfold that left you vulnerable to his every whim.

Finally, with a soft, desperate cry, you came, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. 

But Gojo didn’t stop. Instead, he continued, driving you higher, his mouth never leaving you as he licked and teased, drinking in every tremor, every aftershock. 

The overstimulation hit hard, every stroke of his tongue now almost unbearable, sending jolts through your oversensitive nerves.

You tugged on his hair, gasping, “Please, Gojo—I can’t…”

“Oh, you can,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “You’re going to keep taking it for me, just like that.” 

His hands held you firmly, his mouth working with renewed vigour as he continued to draw sounds from you you didn’t even know you could make. 

You were dizzy, your world a swirl of sensation as he mercilessly pushed you toward another peak, your body shuddering as the second wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Finally, when he seemed satisfied with your thoroughly spent state, he pulled back, leaving you panting, weak, and trembling. 

He rose, tugging the blindfold slightly, letting his fingers trace lightly over your cheeks as he did. 

You barely had a moment to recover before his lips brushed against your ear, voice low and commanding. “Now, turn around.”

Dazed and more than willing to obey, you turned, feeling his strong hands guiding you forward, pressing you up against the wall as he moved behind you. 

His hands roamed down, gripping your hips as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, pulling you close until you could feel him, hot and insistent against you.

“Look at you,” he murmured with dark satisfaction, his hands sliding up to grip your waist as he positioned himself behind you. 

He held you there, relishing the way your body stretched and adjusted to him.

A low, rumbling groan escaped Gojo’s lips as he began to move, each slow, agonizingly deep thrust pressing you harder against the wall, his hips meeting yours with a rhythm that was both relentless and electrifying. 

The way he filled you—thick and hot, stretching you in ways that made your knees weak—left you breathless, gripping the wall for support as he set a pace that was anything but gentle. 

Each inch of him pressed into you, nudging against every sensitive, over-stimulated spot that hadn’t yet recovered from the waves of pleasure he’d already pulled from you.

Your entire body felt hypersensitive, every nerve alive and attuned to the sensation of him inside you. 

Each thrust was like a spark, setting off shudders that rolled through you as he sank into you fully, pulling back just enough to let you feel that maddening drag before plunging in again, harder, deeper. 

You couldn’t help the soft whimpers that escaped, your body unable to keep up with the sheer intensity of his movements.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as his hands found your hips, holding you steady while he took his time, savouring every reaction you gave him. 

His fingers dug into your skin, pulling you back to meet each thrust, leaving no room for escape, only the blissful, intoxicating friction as he buried himself to the hilt with each drive forward. 

His pace grew more erratic, hips snapping harder against you, filling you so completely it was dizzying.

Overstimulated and utterly overwhelmed, each motion made your body clench around him, the pleasure bordering on too much as he continued, knowing just how to push you past every limit. 

It was both unbearable and addictive—the heat, the fullness, the way he moved in you as if he were claiming every inch. 

He groaned low and ragged, his voice rough in your ear as he whispered, “You’re so tight, so perfect… God, I could fuck you all night.”

Every thrust hit a different, more sensitive place inside you, igniting sparks of pleasure that grew with each movement. 

The world faded, narrowing down to the heat of his body pressed against yours, the heavy slide of him filling you, stretching you in a way that made you tremble. 

The intensity of it was all-consuming, your body completely given over to him as he continued to drive into you with that ruthless, almost punishing rhythm, each thrust pressing you closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of soft encouragement and unyielding command. 

His hands tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he anchored you exactly where he wanted. 

His hot breath tickled your ear, his mouth pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck before he whispered again, voice dropping to a low, rough edge. 

“I know you’ve got one more in you… don’t you?”

The depth of his thrusts sent a shiver down your spine, his cock filling you to the point of almost painful bliss, each movement coaxing you closer to the edge he was holding you at. 

His grip on you didn’t falter, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, a clear sign of just how hard he was holding himself back. 

“I wanna feel you, every last bit of you,” he continued, his voice thick with need. His hips pressed even deeper, grinding into you as he thrust again, pulling a helpless moan from your lips.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone both a plea and a command, each word sending a fresh rush of desire through you. 

“Cum for me, right here, right now, while I’m still inside you.” He didn’t relent, didn’t slow, his movements unyielding as he chased that final reaction from you, his voice breaking into a low groan as he added, “I want to feel every last bit of you falling apart around me.”

His hands found your wrists, pulling them behind your back, holding you in place as his pace quickened, his grip bruising as he drove into you with abandon.

With a final, desperate cry, you let yourself go, the pleasure blinding and overwhelming as you gave in completely, your body clenching around him as he groaned, hips bucking as he followed, his grip tightening as he held you close, riding out the waves of pleasure together.

He didn’t let go right away, keeping you pressed up against the wall, his body still flush against yours. 

After a moment, he leaned close, a satisfied, almost cocky chuckle in his voice as he whispered in your ear, “Now, was that spooky enough for you?”

[breadbrioche]

fit for a princess

luke castellan x reader

➳summary: a quick fluffy thing because admin eagerly wishes summer can come sooner and is purposely ignoring the ending of the pjo series :D

➳warnings: not proof read, written during multiple fits of delusion, established relationship

➳word count: 1.1k

➳a/n: IM BACK!! Sorry to any who were expecting a TUC fic but the pjo has been my latest obsession so I had to write it

At Camp Half-Blood, the weather is always perfect but, somehow, its even better than most days. The sun is shining at its brightest yet the cool breeze blowing made it so that it wasn’t uncomfortably hot. As one of many campers taking advantage of the great weather, Luke leans his back against a tree with his eyes closed and enjoying the warmth and listening to the calm sounds of the nature around him.

He winces when a suddenly shadow obstructs the light and peaks his eyes open slightly to see what caused it. Though through blurry eyes as he blinks to adjust to the brightness, he spots your figure looming over him and a smile instantly forms on Luke’s face.

“Can I help you?” He drawls out teasingly. You pout playfully before seating yourself next to him, fingers easily tangling with his like routine.

“You should be thankful I’m even here! Seriously, it took forever to track you down.”

“It’s not like this place is a particularly hard place to find.” Luke argues back but you roll your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah but I’d never thought you’d be here of all places” You point out as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What, can’t a guy just enjoy some peace and quiet?”

At that, you bark out a laugh, not believing him. “Not if you’re called Luke Castellan.” You chastise. “You’re always training as if you aren’t already the best swordsman in the camp”

“Did you come here to nag at me or do you have an actual reason?”

“Oh right!” You reach into your bag and place something atop Luke’s hair faster than he could see what it was. Immediately raising his hands to his head, he gingerly felt around blindly to see what it was. His fingertips brushes against something soft yet so thin he could tell it was delicate but also a more rough and rigid material.

As he carefully removes the item of his head to inspect it, Luke amusedly huffs upon realising what it was.

“You made me a flower crown?” He asks as he admires your craftsmanship - various summer flowers were woven together intricately, intertwining to create a colourful circlet. Leaves were bent precisely to frame each flower, some of which Luke could recognise being sunflowers and marigolds.

“I saw some Demeter kids making them and I wanted to try too.” You explained. “Do you like it? I know it’s not perfect but I think I did a pretty good job with it!”

“I love it.” He confirmed and using his free arm to pull you in for a hug to show his gratitude. “It’s almost as pretty as the person who made it.”

Groaning at his cheesy line, you lightly shoved him off you before taking the crown back into your hands to nestle it on top of his dark curls once again.

“Well I think you look way prettier than I ever could; it really suits you, y’know” you tease with a sly grin. “You’re giving serious fairy princess vibes”

“Are you being for real?” He sighed, looking away embarrassed but making no move to remove the flower crown. You giggled at his actions, cooing as you poked his reddening cheeks. Luke catches your offending wrist before using it to pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you and nestling his face into your neck.

“I thought I was supposed to be a hero” he complains against your skin.

As you wrap your arms around his neck, you huff endearingly, feeling how warm his face is.

“Ayy now don’t sell yourself short; you can still be a hero while being a fairy princess. I’m sure there’s a myth about that.”

“I don’t think there is, love” Luke retorts which makes you scrunch your face disappointedly. Though, you don’t dwell on it for long as you gently grab his face and remove it from the crook of your neck. Luke’s face morphs into a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and dark eyes assessing you to find the meaning behind your antics, but you paid him no mind as you grinned happily.

You don’t understand how the boy before you doesn’t know how beautiful he is - and hell, you’d even say that Luke is way more attractive than any of the Aphrodite boys - especially in this current moment with how the sun made his eyes twinkle and his ruddy skin look like it was glowing.

But unfortunately, your thoughts are interrupted with the way Luke drums his fingers at your side, an unspoken request for an explanation. Stubbornly, you deny him the satisfaction in favour of admiring him more.

However, his drumming becomes more insistent then turns into pokes and before you know it, he’s attacking you relentlessly with tickles. This forces you to release your hold on Luke’s face to wrestle his hands off you. You shriek when he resists your attempts and puts his weight forward which pushes your back to the ground.

“Stop-!! Let go!!” You demand between fits of laughter while you writhe on the grass from the way your stomach cramps, you kick your feet and claw at his hands but Luke is, as always, relentless, finding how the whole situation has turned incredibly amusing.

“What…the fuck was that- “ you pant out when Luke eventually stops tickling you. As you heave, you glare up at Luke - the damn flower crown still perched on his head even after all that - who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Maybe you aren’t a fairy princess hero after all.” You say accusingly. Luke raises an eyebrow inquisitively before rolling onto the ground next to you, his shoulders bumping into yours in the process.

“What am I then?”

“Probably a monster. A mean,ugly monster who disguised himself as an insufferably pretty boy who’s sole mission is to make my life a living hell.”

After you air out your complaints, it's his turn to laugh; the deep sound almost makes it hard for you to keep scowling at him.

“It still beats being a fairy princess hero, for sure! That job sounds right up my alley.” Luke exclaims, urging you to shove him with a roll of your eyes but he’s not at all unfazed. Rather, he shimmies closer to you so his mouth is at the same level as your ear.

“Y’know what being a ‘pretty monster who’s sole mission is to annoy you’ would mean right?” He asks you, and it’s like you can hear his smirk.

“What.” You reply, not bothering to correct his misquote.

“It means that I would get to be with you all the time.”

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiiiii, its me again lmao can I ask for a Jing Yuan oneshot with fem reader what if somebody close to him casually and unexpectedly confessed to him, like, she thinks it's normal for him to have somebody confess to him so reader just did so casually in the middle of their interaction, a little flustered, but doesn't make it too obvious.

Thank youuuu~♡ sorry about earlier btw, i got too excited when I saw you want to take requests and forgot that rules exist 😭 but you're so nice for correcting me, so thanks again.. and i hope you enjoy as well 😊 🥰

Hi! Thank you for the request. Lol, it's okay, you're a good egg. I understand that you were excited and I appreciate the enthusiasm. It all worked out in the end so there's nothing to worry about. I really hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing this and I don't think I'll ever get bored of writing for Jing Yuan.

cw. fluff, love confessions, female reader, 2.3k words

“You’re late.”

Those were the first words out of your mouth when General Jing Yuan finally showed up to your appointed lunch meet up. You tried to not let your disdain show as your nails tapped against the wooden table, tapping to an unknown beat as Jing Yuan took a seat across from you. There was an obvious pinch in your furrowed brow as your eyes briefly drifted over Jing Yuan only to be greeted by his lackadaisical smile. You should be used to his tardiness by now, he tended to run on his own internal clock. Yet somehow, you were still irritated as you pressed the seam of your lips into a tight, thin line.

The warm rays of sunshine danced off Jing Yuan’s face, the light almost as blinding as his smile as he settled in his seat on the private terrace. The gentle breeze played with the tips of his white mane of hair, rustling the bright red ribbon tied into a neat bow as you idly watched the movement from the corner of your eye. Your attention snapped back to Jing Yuan as he cleared his throat, his smile turning warm as he greeted you with soft eyes. 

“My apologies for being late” he said. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

You took a deep and calming breath, trying to let your seething resentment breeze past your lips and be lost in the dancing winds that rustled through the trees. You lightly shook your head as you straightened up in your seat.

“Not long, I suppose” you replied with a soft huff. 

Jing Yuan tilted his head to the side, his eyes shimmering with endearment at the small little pout that formed on your lips. He waited for you to continue speaking, sensing the question that itched at the back of your scalp and lay heavy on your tongue. Your eyes focused on the little beauty spot just under his warm, honey coloured eyes, unable to look directly into his piercing gaze lest you be lost forever in their depths. 

“So, why are you late?”

Jing Yuan waved his hand through the air, brushing off your question as a warm chuckle pushed past his lips. He shook his head.

“Do not worry about it” he replied.

Your gaze narrowed and your ears itched something fierce as you were waved off. Was he trying to tease you, knowing that you would be deathly curious now to wring an answer out of him? Sometimes, you think that Jing Yuan did subtly like to tease you, holding an air of mystery about him, keeping his cards close to his chest and a smile that told you that he knew something that you didn’t. And you really wanted to squeeze an answer out of him now. With a small and undignified huff, you crossed your arms over your chest and it took every ounce of Jing Yuan’s willpower not to coo at the adorable pout that tugged on your plump lips.

“It must have been something important, if it required the General’s rapt attention” you surmised.

Jing Yuan’s smile didn’t falter as you subtly tried to prod at him for more information, your body leaning forward slightly in your chair as your ears perked up for the next few words to slip past his lips. A warm hum stirred in the back of Jing Yuan’s throat as he lay his hands in front of him on the table, tracing the tips of his fingers over the dips in the wooden frame. 

“You could say that” he replied with a firm nod and a nonchalant roll of his shoulders. 

You waited for a brief moment, still leaning forward in your chair as you waited with baited breath.

“So?” you prompted. 

The corners of Jing Yuan’s lips twitched a little higher, seeing as he now had your complete and undivided attention. He was pleased that you weren’t so cranky anymore now that your attention was diverted elsewhere. 

“I had someone profess their love to me on the way over to meet you, that was all” Jing Yuan divulged.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as you gave the General an incredulous look. Why was he talking so casually about it like he was observing the weather? Your arms fell from your chest and you almost jumped out of your seat to launch yourself across the table at him. 

“Another?” you squawked. “That’s the third one this week!”

Jing Yuan laughed at the perturbed look on your face as you tried to wrap your head around it. You knew he was General and quite popular on the Luofu but sometimes, it was just a little ridiculous how much people fought for his attention. You had been friends with Jing Yuan for such a long time and no matter how many times this happened to him, you would still be astounded how casual Jing Yuan acted about the entire situation, like some poor soul didn’t just pour their heart out to him only to have him turn them down. Speaking of…You swallowed thickly, tongue darting over your lips as you considered your next words carefully, settling back in your seat as you cleared your throat with a polite cough.

“So, what did you say?” you inquired. 

Jing Yuan quirked a bemused snowy brow in your direction as his smile turned coy. “Oh, interested to know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you bit the inside of your cheek. “You know I am. Come on, spill the tea.”

Jing Yuan continued to smile as he leaned forward in his chair, shoulders raised in a small shrug.

“What is there to spill? I turned them down, of course.”

Your eyes brightened at his words and you could feel your heart sing with joy. You let go of the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding and sighed in relief. You weren’t sure where in your relationship that your friendship started to turn and mean something more to you. Every time you heard someone confess to him, there was always a sense of panic that would knot in the pit of your stomach as your heart lodged itself in your throat in anticipation. But the amount of relief you would feel when he denied them always put you at ease, after feeling a little guilty about it. After all, they had plucked up the courage to admit their feelings and yet you were more of a coward. It was an inner turmoil you struggled with on a near, daily basis and you feared that if you didn’t act soon, someone else may just steal him away from you.

Jing Yuan continued to speak but you didn’t quite catch what he was saying, pulse racing frantically in your ears as you pondered on what you were about to do next. With the amount of people he had confessing to him, maybe you could try and shoot your shot as well. The worst he could say was no. You swallowed around the hard lump in your throat as you idly chewed on the dry skin around your cracked lips, your cheeks warm as the words suddenly came spilling from your mouth like a flowing river. 

“You know, I think I should probably confess my feelings too, since half of the Luofu has already done it…”

“Hm?”

Jing Yuan paused with what he was saying when he heard you speak up, immediately swallowing his words as his ears pricked towards your meek voice. He blinked owlishly down at you, trying to process what you had just said for what felt like an eternity. After a brief pause, he stirred and smiled at you.

“Did you say something?” he asked.

It felt like your heart dropped down into your stomach and your skin fluctuated between icy cold chills and a rapid hot flush. You shook your head as you placed your shaky hands on the table as you pushed yourself upright, planning to make a quick escape so you could go bury yourself in a nest of blankets and cry for the next few days as you berated yourself for how stupid this idea was. 

“Nope. Nothing. Not a damn thing” you stuttered in a flustered rush. “I have to leave now. Excuse me.”

Before you could get a chance to tuck your tail between your legs and make a swift exit, Jing Yuan reached over the table and grabbed your wrists before slamming your hands back to the table. The sharp sound rang in your ears as you cringed, eyes nervously flitting up to Jing Yuan. He smiled warmly at you. You tried to tug your hands free but he wouldn’t budge.

“Repeat what you said” Jing Yuan said in a slow and firm tone. 

Gone was the dozing General. Now you were forced to deal with the war General that had been steering the Luofu clear of disasters for several centuries. And he would not brook your disobedience. You couldn't muster up the strength to try and leave. Not that Jing Yuan would let you get away with such an attempt. A shiver tickled the base of your spine as you lowered your gaze, chin tucked into your chest as you quietly murmured to yourself. He squeezed his hands around your wrists, the large palms of his hands warm and almost swallowing your tiny hands whole. 

“Raise your head when you speak” Jing Yuan said. “I cannot hear you when you murmur like that.”

Irritation prickled at the back of your scalp and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you were put on the spot. Like he asked, you raised your head and jutted your chin out as you bared your teeth at him.

“Who are you? My Mother?” you grumbled with a biting tone.

“I will act like it if you keep giving me that attitude” he playfully bit back.

A long sigh blew past your lips as your shoulders sagged in defeat. You slowly raised your head, a frown tugging at your lips as you gave him big, sad doe eyes. It made his own gaze lose its sharpness as his eyes suddenly went soft at the little pout that crossed your visage. You idly scuffed your shoe along the floor.

“Why do you always have to be so mean to me?” you lamented.

A soft chuckle stirred in Jing Yuan’s chest. “Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Your cheeks puffed up as your pretty, soused lashes fluttered over your burning cheeks. Jing Yuan soothed the erratic beat of your heart as he drew his thumbs in circles over the fluttering pulse of your wrists, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts before he spoke in a soft voice. 

“Speak to me, my dear.”

The term of endearment that breezed past his lips made you weak in the knees as you slowly crumbled under his alluring charm. You almost collapsed back down in your chair, the tips of your fingers tingling with numbness as you poked them into the rough calluses adorning Jing Yuan’s weathered hands. You turned your words over in your mind before trying to speak to him without the anxiety trying to force your throat to close up. 

“I like you, Jing Yuan” you said. “Really, really like you. So much that I want you to maybe, possibly consider…going out with me?”

Your head was a mess and your sentences felt like a jumble of incoherent words strung together. Your emotions were violently swinging from side to side like an unstable pendulum and you were so surprised that you hadn’t gotten whiplash by now. You hated it when Jing Yuan put you on the spot like this and roasted you in the open fires of a furnace with his scrutinising gaze. Once your confession spilled past your lips, Jing Yuan snorted in response. Your face fell flat. 

“Did you just snort at me, General?” you asked, trying to keep the venom out of your voice.

His shoulders shook with mirth before he roared with laughter. Not exactly the response you were expecting. Your jaw clenched as a soft hiss whistled through your teeth.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan shook his head as he squeezed your hands with reassurance. “I apologise. I’m just so…elated, to hear you say that.”

You blinked owlishly down at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Really?”

Jing Yuan rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, his demeanour slipping back into casual and playful as he raised your hands to his lips. His breath was warm as if puffed against your skin and you couldn’t tear your gaze off the way his lips parted around a soft coo of your name. 

“Of course. Why do you think I keep inviting you to these lunch dates?”

Your brain stopped functioning properly the second you felt his lips ghost over the back of your hands. That and what he had just casually admitted. The gears in your head started to chug and whirl as you came upon a sudden realisation. Had Jing Yuan been subtly hinting at you his true feelings this entire time and you were too dense to pick up on them? You were about to experience the five stages of grief within the span of ten seconds. 

“You…should have made your intentions clearer” you said. 

A mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he gave you a sly wink. “Now where’s the fun in that?” he purred as he kissed your hands again.

There was a scathing remark itching somewhere at the back of your mind but you lost it somewhere in the clutter of thoughts running a mile a minute through your skull. 

“We’ve wasted a lot of time” you pointed out. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make up for it.”

[jayke0]

Bondage and BJs

Pairing: Jake Lockley x g/n reader

Summary: You grant Jake with a treat while he's tied to a chair.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: Oral (m receiving), bondage/ropes, Dom!Reader, Sub!Jake, degrading, use of “whore”, edging, begging, orgasm denial, mention of Steven, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,410

A/n: This was inspired by this lovely art by @/halcyon1796 on X!

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading and editing ily.

………......................…………………………………….

“Colour?”

Jake blinks at you a few times, the words not registering for a few seconds.

“Green. Green, cariño…”

The poor man is practically bursting out of his jeans. Tight ropes bind him to the chair, his biceps bulging between the lines each time he clenches his fists. A light sheen covers his warm gold skin and runs the length of his chest all the way to his waistband, where his stomach is twitching with the lack of stimulation. Despite the compromising position, and the obligatory stain on his pants, a dark grin is stretched wide across his face, urging you to continue your game.

“Good,” you flash him a smile and pat his thigh as you shuffle closer to him on your knees. “Good boy.”

You're sure you see his ears prick up like a damn dog at the praise, the idea of it making you chuckle while you sit comfortably between his thighs and fiddle with his belt, looking up at him brazenly.

His smirk falters a little as you tease him, slowly unbuckling his belt and dragging the leather from the metal clasp with remarkable patience.

Jake wouldn't have it any other way. He loves it when you tease him, make him wait for you, it just makes him unbelievably harder. Sweat beads on his forehead and curls his hair, his thoughts completely enrapt with you.

Finally, you work open his pants, refraining from literally licking your lips as you gaze at his twitching length in the confines of his boxers. “Look at you, baby, twitching so much for me.” You tease with a smile as you run your finger along the length of his cock, getting a groan and a jump in response. “Lemme help you out a little.”

The adam's apple in his throat bobs as he swallows hard, eyes fixated on your hands and the way your thumbs hook under his boxer’s waistband to let his cock spring out. Cold air hits him and makes him gasp, biceps flexing again as he sucks his lip between his teeth to chew on.

“You're usually more talkative than this, Mr Jake Lockley; is someone lost for words?”

The man grumbles and looks at you with pleading eyes, ones that you're still yet to gain the strength to say no to, so you do as he silently pleads and wrap your fingers around his thick length.

The action makes an exasperated sigh escape from your boyfriend's lips, his nostrils flaring a little while your fingers squeeze him gently.

“Mi vida…” he mumbles softly, feeling each of your digits squeezing him. A bead of pre-cum spills from his tip in time for you to catch it on your tongue, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. The muscles in his stomach strain, making his length twitch as you tap it against your tongue and glare up at him through your lashes.

Pulling away, you let a string of saliva pour over his ruddy tip and stroke it over his length, relishing in the way he's already huffing and squirming under the bare minimum of your touch.

”Finally,” he breathes as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, enveloping the tip and appreciating the salty taste. You sit up, twisting your head slightly to the side before taking almost all of him in one go; needless to say, Jake's reaction is pure gold.

His head falls back with a loud wail, back arching off of the chair as his thighs try to squeeze together. To his displeasure, you're already one step ahead of him, hands placed firmly on his thick thighs to keep them parted as you pull off again.

“Jake, you're gonna be a good boy for me now, aren't you?”

He nods frantically, a whine rumbling in his throat.

“Promise?”

“Yes! Yes I promise. Please darlin’... I need ya, I need that mouth.”

The way he ruts his hips up should aggravate you, but it only makes you want him more.

Taking him about half way this time, you hum around his cock, feeling his thigh tense under your tight grasp while your other hand occupies itself with wrapping around the rest of his length; and he keeps his legs open, as per your command.

The twisting motion you start has proven to be greatly successful with your boyfriend in the past, and he never seems to get bored of it. You turn your head as you bob up and down on his length, your hand twisting in the opposite direction to create a delicious friction for the man. You're quick to stop his rutting with a glare through your eyelashes, not even having to pull off to make him whimper and stop his movements in his tracks.

He distracts himself by leaning his head back once more, and you watch all the muscles strain in his neck delightfully; it's such a wonderful sight seeing him like this.

“Damn cariño… shit. Love the way ya Suck my cock, ya always know what I like–.” He moans out, his hands now pawing at the ropes that are keeping him in place. “Wish I could just fuck that pretty mouth… make ya drool all over me...” His words are assertive, but his tone is far from it. You simply grin around him and start moving faster, taking him a little deeper each time.

His body is shaking at this point, already sensitive from the edging you'd put him through before even having taken his pants off. “Ah fuck!– Mi vida, I ain't gonna last– I gotta cum...”

You pull off. “What do you need to say?”

The man grumbles and thrusts his hips up.

“Watch it,” you dig your nails into his thigh, making him squirm and whimper quietly. “Want me to edge you again, baby? ‘Cause I will. I'll edge you for as long as it takes for you to stop being a desperate and disobedient whore.”

He buries his face in his shoulder for that one, looking away from you ashamed and flushed. Jake doesn't react the same to degrading as Steven does, his responses are usually more subtle, more embarrassed. Steven, on the other hand, will happily welcome degradation with a loud moan followed by a desperate whine; and Marc… well, you haven't gotten that far yet.

“I'm sorry, mi amor. Please let me cum, I've been so good for ya, waited so long.” Jake’s bottom lip sticks out just a little, something he'd picked up from Steven. “Please, cariño. I need ya…”

Once you're satisfied with his apology, you wrap your lips around him again as before and sink all the way down, enveloping him fully. You pull off just enough before starting a fast pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth and hearing his beautiful moans.

You're able to look up at him just enough to see him watching you, focusing on how your lips stretch and drool all over his cock. his eyes meet yours, and suddenly he's arching his back and twitching fiercely, warmth filling your mouth while his orgasm runs through his body like hot lava.

You feel his muscles almost instantly relax and his breathing slow, his cock already going soft in your mouth as you swallow what he'd spilled. “Good boy,” you smile up at him widely, “my handsome boyfriend.” Your words are genuine as you rest your head on his thigh, pressing soft kisses.

“Mhm… mi vida..” Jake is sleepy, and you can easily tell that by the big dopey grin on his face, the one he usually has when he's had a long day or you've pleased him.

Standing up, you place a kiss on his lips and forehead before moving behind him to untie his sore wrists, a soft inhale coming from him as he rubs his biceps.

“Sorry baby, but I had to really tie you down. You're like a fucking rhino sometimes,” you both chuckle softly at your observation before you lean over him to look at him. “You wanna go to sleep, huh?”

A simple nod from him tells you all you need to know.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @red-hydra @summonthesoups @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @midgardian-witch @minigirl87 @mooksmouse @justafandomgvrl @boredzillenial @eyelessfaces @silvernight-m @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @femmeanonymelives

[the-kr8tor]

Could we get some chill fluffy writing/hcs of hobie with an S/o that likes hanging out with minimal talking? Yknow just sharing their space and feeling safe :3? ❤️❤️❤️

S'cute!! Thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You enter his workspace with a blanket trailing behind you, a thick encyclopedia-like book in the crook of your arm, and two mugs of steaming tea. The door was already open, a sign that Hobie openly invites you in. He feels your presence immediately, taking his eyes off from the contraption he's been tinkering with for hours, he senses that you want to be near him without interrupting his flow of work. To which he's most grateful for, he'd hug you if not for the high voltage tech he's handling.

“Plannin’ on stayin’, lovie?” Hobie asks, goggles fitted on his eyes, rubber gloves on his hands that he silently curses at because he can't hold you with it on— and because of the electricity coursing through his tools.

“Mm-hmm.” You nod, placing his cup on another table, safe from all his tools and thingamabobs. “Can I?”

“‘course.” You smile sweetly, leaning slightly, lips puckered up and head tilting questioningly. Hobie chuckles, and without another word, he purses his lips to meet with yours.

Your lips feel slightly tingly, you guess it's from the electricity. Nonetheless, you gladly kiss back even though it was quicker than you'd like. It's for your own good you bet as he beams up at you, goggles making him look a thousand times cuter than he already is. (which you thought was impossible at first) His brown eyes are all big and round, a sight that has you giggling and wanting to kiss him more. But alas, he has to continue working so that you have the rest of the day with him.

“I'll be there in a bit, yeah?” He whispers to you, matching your energy, and you immediately want to kiss him back for it. Fighting the urge to hold you, he returns to his work.

You nod, walking quietly to the cozy armchair that he specifically placed for you. It's a deep green colour, just looking at it brings you at peace. Laying your mug in the cup holder (which he installed for you) you wrap yourself with the blanket, perfectly tucking yourself in. With your book opened on your lap, you begin to relax whilst the soft whirs of Hobie's tools fills your ears.

You read while he works quietly, just two people living in comfortable silence. And loving each other in the same room but in different corners of it, it's love all the same.

Mug now empty, and belly fully warmed up, you're on page 210 when you feel him snuggle up to you. Hobie sits on the arm of the seat, body slightly folded to accommodate for your own; chin tucked atop your shoulder, lips brushing along your cheek. His arm finds its place wrapped along your middle, palm splayed over your stomach that he has since moved the blanket and your shirt over to feel you closer. Skin still warm, skin still making you giddy after all these years. His other hand meets with the other, fingers linking together, properly warming you up and embracing you like a burrito.

You lean close to Hobie, pulling him impossibly closer by the ribbons on his sweatpants. He chuckles against your skin, pressing a quick affectionate peck on your shoulder. You inhale his presence, he smells of steel and the green tea you've made him earlier.

For a minute, you two just sit there, you read and he watches your expression change depending on the paragraph you're reading. You suddenly sigh longingly, curious, Hobie follows your line of sight, reading it silently with you.

Hobie scoffs in place, rolling his eyes at the passage you're currently on. He points at the exact sentence that's full of pining and longing from the main character. You look at him as he points to himself right after, making a face that says ‘can’t be me, love’ and his hand gesturing a slash across his neck.

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly saying, ‘you sure about that?’ Poking his chest, you shake your head with a smile and then you point at the same passage in the book repeatedly. ‘this was literally you, Hobie’

He shakes his head, mirroring you, ‘no, ‘m not.’

You correct him with a simple gesture that you know will have him melting into you further. And you winning the ‘argument’ Holding his cheek with one hand, thumb pressing softly on his chin, you lean forward, eyes slowly shutting close, lips reaching for his own.

Of course he'd chase your lips, especially when you flutter your eyelashes at him like that! His hands fly towards your own face, tenderly holding you close. Your lips brush along his, but before he could finally close the small distance, you move away with a smug smile. Hobie's mouth is agape, feigning offense. He follows where your finger points at the book where the main character literally did what he just did, chasing down his love interest’s lips like a thirsty man stranded in the desert.

You lovingly poke him again. ‘it’s you’

He sighs, defeated, ‘it's me.’

You're not a monster, so with all your heart, you continue what you didn't do just a moment ago. Wrapping your arms around him just like he did to you, you kiss him just like in the books you devour, you devour him also. To which Hobie clearly indulges himself in.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Friday, I'm in Love - Remus Lupin x Reader

"Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits." 

AN - I had this idea for a fic ages ago and it's taken me so long to write for some reason. I hope you enjoy n please give it a reblog if you do <3 I also have a lil list of songs that I listened to while writing this so let me know if you want me to post it

It was a slow morning, to say the least. Outside, the downpour was relentless, each raindrop drumming against the thin glass of the record shop’s front windows, blurring the already muted colours of the street beyond. The warm glow of the shop lights barely reached the pavement.  

Y/N hadn’t seen a customer in over an hour and the stillness had settled into a comfortable rhythm. She passed the time by meticulously arranging the coins in the till, the soft clinking sounds punctuating the quiet. The final notes of a record filled the room before slowing to a comforting crackle. Choosing the music that played instore was one of the few small joys on slow days. 

She wandered over to the old turntable, her fingers trailing along the edge of a weathered box of records. The sleeves, many of them worn and well-loved, slipped past her fingers as she thumbed through them. After a moment of contemplation, she settled on one, slipping it from its sleeve and setting it on the turntable, guiding the needle to the edge. The familiar crackle started once more, followed by the comforting notes of the music.  

Y/N hummed to herself as she wandered around the small shop, flitting between the shelves, straightening records, adjusting displays and dusting off the shelves. She was working alone today, however, she didn’t mind the solitude – there was something peaceful about the quiet, empty shop, surrounded by rows of records and the soft glow old the old lamps. With no one to talk to and no customers to serve, she settled herself back behind the till, pouring herself a fresh mug of coffee and perching on the counter behind her, reaching for her book that she kept stashed away. 

She had just settled into a good part of her book when the sharp jingle of the bell above the door startled her. She looked up, the shop’s quiet suddenly disrupted as a gust of cool, rain-scented air swept in. A man stepped inside shaking droplets from his coat as he paused in the doorway, taking in the warmth of the shop. 

For a moment, their eyes met and Y/N felt a flutter of surprise at the sudden presence. She closed her book softly, setting it aside as she slid off the counter. He was dripping from the rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair slightly dishevelled. His eyes scanned the room before they finally landed on her. He offered a small, almost sheepish smile as he stepped further inside. 

“Bloody horrible out there, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm despite the miserable weather. He ran a hand through his damp hair, attempting to tame it as he gave her a lopsided grin.  

“Absolutely,” she agreed, “You can hang your jacket up while you look around if you like? There’s nothing worse than a soggy coat while you’re trying to shop.” she gestured towards the coat stand adjacent to the door.  

He smiled appreciatively, immediately taking her up on the offer and shedding the sodden jacket, revealing a rumpled jumper underneath.  

“Thank you. It’s nice to be out of the rain for a bit.” he said, his eyes flickering over the shelves of records that lined the walls. 

“Can I get you a coffee or anything? It’s only meant to be for staff, but you look like you could do with warming up.” 

He looked pleasantly surprised, a grateful smile spreading across his face. 

“That would be lovely, actually. As long as it won’t get you into trouble?” 

Y/N laughed shaking her head, “It’s only me in today and I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

He chuckled, clearly relieved, “Deal. I appreciate it.” 

With a nod, she moved behind the counter, grabbing the coffee pot from the warmer and pouring it into a clean mug. A moment later, she joined him by the shelves, handing him the steaming cup. 

“Here you go. Try not to spill any on the records - you’ll get me sacked and I actually quite like this job.” she teased.  

He took the mug with a grin, “I’ll try to be extra careful. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your imminent unemployment.” 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll be over there,” she jutted her head towards the till, “Give me a shout if you need anything.” 

She watched him as he browsed; he was interesting to look at. His trousers were slightly too short for his lanky frame, and with every step they revealed glimpses of his mismatched socks. His hair, now starting to dry, was settling into soft waves. When she had handed him the mug, she had noticed that his hands were marked with white scars, matching the ones that adorned his face. He seemed absorbed in the records, flipping through them with a thoughtful expression. Occasionally, he would pause to examine a cover. After a short while, he approached the counter with a small stack of records in hand. 

 “I think I’ve found a few that might be worth a listen.” he set them down with a satisfied smile. 

“Yeah? Any particular mood you’re going for, or just exploring?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.  

“Just exploring. I haven’t bought any new ones in a while.” he shrugged. 

“Let’s see what you’ve picked, then.” she reached out, “I promise I won’t judge – at least, not to your face anyway.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll take my chances.” he leaned forward on the counter as he watched her inspect his choices. 

“Hey this is good one- Unknown Pleasures.” 

“Yeah? I’ve heard a couple songs, y’know on the radio and stuff. Thought I’d give it a proper go.” he pulled down the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, toying with a loose thread as he spoke to her, “What about this one? You listened to it?” 

She turned the album over in her hands, poring over the track list on the back. She frowned and shook her head. 

“I haven’t actually. Heard of it, but never gave it a listen.” she totted up his total as she spoken to him, “You’ll have to let me know if it’s worth a listen. 

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small pile of coins, dropping them into her outstretched palm as he counted them.  

“It’s been nice speaking to you.” he smiled sincerely at her, “Oh, and thanks again for the coffee.”  

“No worries at all. It’s nice having someone to chat to on slow days like today.” she glanced up at him and she put his money into the till, “Thanks for not spilling it all over the albums.”  

He grinned as he took the bag of records and headed towards the door, pausing momentarily to shrug his jacket back on. With one last nod in her direction, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the rain, the shop once again settling into its quiet rhythm. 

A few weeks later, the weather had shifted from the relentless rain to a drearier drizzle. Inside, Y/N was immersed in sorting out a new batch of records behind the counter, the crackle of vinyl playing softly in the background. 

The familiar jingle of the doorbell caught her attention and she smiled to herself when she saw who it was. 

“Back already?” she grinned.  

“Couldn’t stay away apparently.” he stepped inside, shaking the rain from his umbrella and looking around with an appreciative nod, “I was just passing actually, thought I’d stop by and see what’s new.” 

This time, he looked more prepared for the weather, sliding his umbrella into the stand by the door. His hair was now tousled in a more deliberate way, though the sense of casual coolness in his clothes remained. 

“You’ve got great timing.” 

He cocked his head and looked at her quizzically, walking over to where she stood at the counter. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We just got a delivery this morning. I’m just sorting through it if you want to take a look?” 

He nodded and moved to stand opposite her, resting his elbows on the wooden countertop. As he leaned in, his eyes focused on the box of records, his fingers lightly brushing over the album covers. 

He began to sift through the records, carefully flipping through the albums. As he examined each one, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation flowing easily. Every so often, they would both reach for a record at the same time, their fingers brushing against each other's. Each time, he would glance up with a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing slightly as he mumbled an apology.  

“I didn’t catch your name last time.” Y/N said, filling the silence, “I feel a bit rude not knowing it.” 

“Remus.” he looked up, eyes locking with hers, “and yours?” 

She smiled and pointed to the name badge pinned to her t-shirt. His cheeks tinged pink again and he quickly looked down at the album in his hands and then back to her. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m an idiot.” he laughed, “I should’ve noticed that.”  

She laughed softly, waving off his embarrassment, “You’re fine, don’t worry,” she said, her tone reassuring, then with a nod towards the album in his hands, she asked, “Any of them catch your eye?” 

They spent the next half an hour deeply immersed in a spirited discussion about music, bouncing from one artist to another. Remus’s enthusiasm was palpable; he could have spent hours delving into the intricacies of his favourite albums. His passion was evident in the way that he spoke, animated and engaged. He had taken to leaning forward, his forearms resting on the counter as he spoke to her.  

Eventually, he glanced up at the old clock hanging on the wall and realised how late it had gotten, “I should probably get going.” he said, reluctantly straightening up, “It’s been great talking music with you, though. Thanks for all the recommendations.” 

“Anytime. Small price to pay for having someone to talk to on a quiet shift.” she smiled, sliding the album he had bought into a bag. 

Remus came to the record store more and more often over the following months. They had settled into a familiar routine, discussing the merits of the latest addition to his collection and conversing about different genres and artists. Over the months, he had collected a plethora of albums: Ramones, David Bowie, The Cure, Fleetwood Mac, Joy Division. Anything that she recommended, he would buy and the next time he stopped by they would have a lengthy discussion about it. Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits. 

One afternoon, they were having a fairly heated discussion. Y/N had hoisted herself up on the counter behind the till, and Remus was leaning forward, propped up on his elbows on the counter facing her.  

“I mean, you can’t deny the impact of Three Imaginary Boys,” Remus said, “It’s got that sort of gritty edge that you don’t get in their later stuff.” 

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sparkling with conviction, “I get that, but sometimes it’s not about the sound it’s about how the music makes you feel. With their later stuff it’s like they took all of that energy and polished it and made it into something great.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow, the scar across his lip stretching as he smirked, “Are you saying that because you think its natural progression, or just because you’re a fan of their later stuff?” 

“Both.” she replied with a grin. 

Their voices were animated, the shop’s usual quiet atmosphere was replaced with the lively exchange, each of them passionately defending their point with the occasional joking jab to the other.  

As the conversation continued, Y/N shifted her position slightly, causing a stack of records to wobble precariously. Remus’s lanky frame stretch across the counter, straining to try and steady them. Their hands brushed briefly, lingering for a moment longer than usual. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance before returning to their previous positions. 

“Do you want to go out for a drink or something sometime?” Remus blurted the words out before he even realised what he was saying. 

Y/N paused, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the sudden, unexpected offer. Remus’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and he fumbled with the album he was holding, suddenly very interested in the cover. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he stammered, feeling a wave of embarrassment, “I just thought it might be nice to hang out outside the shop, y’know, when you’re not working and being paid to talk music with me.” 

Y/N smiled at his nervous rambling, “I’d like that. It sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Relief washed over Remus, and he looked up, meeting her eyes with a hopeful grin, “Really? Brilliant. I wasn’t sure if it was too forward or-” 

“No, not at all.” she cut off his worry before he could spiral, “Friday?” 

Friday afternoon arrived faster than Remus had anticipated, and by the time he reached the bar, his nerves had crept back in. The bar was warm and dimly lit, with old wooden beams and music humming from a jukebox tucked in the corner. As he stepped inside, he scanned the room and spotted Y/N almost immediately. She was seated near the window, her fingers drumming against the scrubbed wooden table as she stared out of the window. 

“Sorry, I’m late. The rain-” he wiped his palms nervously against his jeans. 

“You’re not late, don’t worry. I’m early if anything.” she gestured to the seat opposite her, inviting him to sit down. 

Relieved, Remus nodded and slipped into the chair, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit, “Good, I was worried I’d kept you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” she assured him, “Besides, it gave me time to order us some drinks.” She gestured to the table, where two glasses awaited, “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of choosing something for us.” 

It was strange seeing him outside the context of the record store. The casual way he carried himself was different from his usual, more reserved demeanour. As he picked up his drink to take a sip, Y/N’s eyes drifted up to the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear. 

“S’a nervous habit.” he said, catching her looking and smiling ruefully. 

“So,” Y/N started, leaning in slightly with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Are you prepared to defend all your music opinions tonight, or are we calling a truce?” 

Remus laughed, “I didn’t come here unarmed, but I’ll call a truce—for now.” 

He glanced over at the jukebox in the corner, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, sliding them across the table to Y/N with a playful grin.  

“Here.” he said, “Why don’t you go and pick something? I’m pretty sure that we’ve just heard the same two songs on loop. Unless, of course, you have a soft spot for cheesy ballads?” 

“Please, I’ve got better taste than that.” she raised an eyebrow as she took the coins, “Although the thought of making you sit through Total Eclipse of the Heart isn’t entirely unappealing.” 

Remus chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stand, “I’ll be on my best behaviour then,” he replied, “No one deserves that kind of torture.” 

Y/N made her way to the jukebox, scanning the selection, taking her time as she pondered her choices. After a moment, she made her pick and returned to the table with a triumphant smile. 

“Your ears are safe for now,” she said, sliding back into her seat, “I went with something a little less torturous.” 

“You always get bonus points for Bowie,” Remus smiled, looking at her over the top of his glass, “Good call.” 

Y/N’s knee bumped against Remus’s as she shifted in her seat. Instead of immediately pulling away, Remus remained still, their legs pressed together. The contact lingered as Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks warming slightly. She could feel the gentle pressure of his leg against hers and the warmth it brought. 

Remus looked over at her, his gaze soft and a bit uncertain. He could feel his heart rate pick up, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into the contact. 

As the evening continued, their closeness remained, the subtle touch of their legs became a quiet reminder of the connection they were building. Each time one of them would go up to put a song on the jukebox, the small movement seemed almost rehearsed. They would slip back into their seat, their legs resuming their previous position almost instinctively.  

“I think we’ve exhausted every good song on the jukebox.” Y/N noted an hour or so later, returning to the table once again.  

“I thought the exact same thing-” his voice trailed off as the song that began playing caught his ear, “You promised no cheesy ballads!”  

Y/N held her hands up in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I never promised.” she said, leaning in slightly, “I just couldn’t help winding you up a bit.” 

“I should have known better.” Remus shook his head jokingly, “And I’ve ran out of change so I can’t put something else on.” 

“You’re joking.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “I just used the last of mine as well. I refuse to let Total Eclipse of the Heart be the last song we hear tonight.”  

Y/N drained the last of her drink her eyebrows knitting together as she thought. Remus fidgeted in his seat, reaching his hand up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before the words finally came out. 

“Why don’t you come back to mine?” 

The words hung in the air for a moment, both of them surprised by his sudden boldness. He quickly added, “I mean, only if you want to. I don’t know if you know this but I have a pretty good record collection.” he let out a shaky laugh. 

“Oh, yeah?” she leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling, “I wonder where you got those from.” 

As they walked, Remus began to explain, almost apologetically, that he shared his place with two friends. He spoke casually, describing the flat as small and a bit cluttered. His tone was slightly self-deprecating as he mentioned the occasional mess, but he assured her that it wasn’t too chaotic.  

“Luckily they’re out tonight, at a party of something.” he mused, “otherwise they’d talk your ear off as soon as you stepped through the door.” 

“Are you not a party kind of person then?”  

“Absolutely not.” Remus dug around in his pocket for his keys, retrieving them with a jingle and unlocked the door. Remus ushered her up the stairs almost immediately. 

“Would’ve made them tidy up downstairs if I had planned this properly.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “At least I know that my room is somewhat clean.” 

Y/N smiled at him reassuringly, following him into his bedroom. She didn’t know Remus all too well, but his room was the pure essence of him. His bed was pushed up against one wall, a cosy mess of sheets and blankets, a wooden bedside table sat proudly beside it, a stack of books perched precariously on top.  

Y/N made a beeline for the record player that sat in the corner of the room, two boxes of records placed on the floor beside it.  

“Mind if I put something on?” she asked, beginning to flick through the albums before he could answer. 

“Go for it,” he smiled, “I’ll go get us a drink while you choose.” 

Remus’s heart was racing a little as he walked down to the kitchen. She was in his room and he didn’t know what to do. He was so comfortable around her in the confines of the record shop, but now she was here, in his space, looking through his records and smiling at him in a way that made his heart melt. 

“Pull yourself together, idiot.” he muttered as he crossed to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer.  

When Remus came back into the room, bottles in hand, he couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. Y/N was sat cross legged on the floor, completely absorbed in the albums she had spread out around her. A pile of records rested in her lap as she sifted through them, occasionally pausing to inspect a cover or read the tracklist on the back. The warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table cast a soft glow over the scene, making everything feel somehow more intimate and familiar.  

He cleared his throat softly, handing her one of the beers as he sat down on the floor next to her, trying to mask the nervous energy still buzzing in his chest. 

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection her,” she said, raising her bottle in appreciation. 

“Thanks.” he replied with a slight chuckle, though he knew most of those records had come from her recommendations. 

She slid one of the records from its sleeve, glancing at him briefly before getting up to place it on the turntable. The needle dropped, and soon enough, the low hum of music filled the room, ground the quiet tension between them. 

As she sat back down, their knees brushed again, but this time, neither of them pulled away. Instead, they both stayed in the easy closeness. Y/N turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, catching him staring at her. He quickly looked away, a soft blush creeping up his neck. She smiled to herself, leaning back on her hands. 

“Y’know you have a couple of doubles?” she said after a moment. 

“Hm?” Remus blinked, looking over at her. 

“Yeah.” she grinned, holding up two identical copies of Lonon Calling, “When I was looking through, I noticed you’ve got quite a few albums twice. D’you keep spares or something?” 

Remus let out a nervous laugh, rubbing a hand across his face, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, “Yeah, uh.. About that.” 

Y/N tilted her head, her grin widening. “What? You just really love The Clash?” 

He sighed, giving her a sheepish look, “Not exactly. I, uh... ran out of records I wanted to buy.” 

“So, you just bought the same ones again?” her brows furrowed together. 

“I didn’t want to stop coming in.” Remus’s gaze was fixed on the floor. 

Her smile softened as the meaning behind his words sank in, “You didn’t want to stop coming in?” she repeated, her tone teasing but gentle.  

Remus nodded, eyes still on the floor as if he wished it would just swallow him whole, “Yeah. I mean, the records were a good excuse, but.. It was more about seeing you.” 

Y/Nfelt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t been expecting him to admit it so openly, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, trying to ease the tension. 

“You could’ve just said you wanted to see me, y’know. Would’ve saved you some money.” she teased.  

He let out a shaky laugh, finally looking up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, well, hindsight’s a wonderful thing.”  

“Well, for the record,” she held up one of his albums playfully, “You didn’t need a reason to come back. I would’ve liked seeing you anyway.” 

Remus blinked, surprised by the ease with which she said it, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” her voice was softer, almost shy now, “I thought that was obvious.” 

They stayed there in the quiet for a moment, their legs still touching, the air between them thick with something unspoken.  

“Don’t supposed you kept your receipts?” Y/N turned to face him. 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Nah. I wasn’t exactly thinking that far ahead.” 

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, and Remus found himself tilting his head slightly to meet her halfway. Their lips brushed together softly at first, one of Remus’s hands trailing up to cup the side of her face in his hand. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathless smiles lighting up their faces. 

“You’re a bit of an idiot, y’know that?” she teased. 

“Yeah... probably.” he just smiled and kissed her again. 

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 4

Ok, this chapter got out of hand. I had been dwelling on it for a little while before I did a final few readthroughs. There might be still some grammatical errors and formatting issues, but here it is!

Word count: 4,675 (I am so, so sorry!)

Part 3 is here.

 After marinating in the deep warm liquid of the large porcelain tub for what you deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, you stepped out of the soapy liquid and dried yourself with a large, fluffy towel. Placing a robe from within the bathroom around yourself and gathering your pile of dirty clothes, you made your way back down the hall to find the guest quarters containing your friends.

Your hair was wrapped up in the fluffy towel in an attempt to dry the strands with more haste than simply air drying it. Your bare feet being the only sounds omitting from the long hallway, you strained your ear to hear light conversation coming from the guest quarters. You reached for the door handle, let out a deep breath and made to face your mismatched crew of straw-hat pirates.

“Oh my dear, how was your bath?” Nami asked you once she saw your form entering the space.

“It was relaxing, thank you,” you responded with a sweet smile. You raked your eyes over her and studied the fine clothes she was wearing.

“Wow, red is absolutely your colour!” you exclaimed at her, gesturing to the dress she had chosen to wear for the evening.

“Where were you when I needed you, tinkerer?” she smiled before turning to Zoro and Luffy, “this is what I was talking about. You guys didn’t give me anything to work with!”

Zoro scoffed and craned his head back to stare at the ceiling while Luffy craned his head to the side in confusion.

“I said you still looked like Nami,” he shrugged, “and you do! What was I meant to say?”

You rolled your eyes and laced your arm in Namis, leading her to the vanity and sitting her on the stool in front of it.

“I’m thinking hair up?” you suggested with a downturned smile, quirking your eyebrow in suggestion. She shrugged and looked over her features.

“Definitely an updo,” you said, gesturing to her short locks. You used your eyes to ask permission to touch her hair, to which she nodded in response, “maybe a few face-framing pieces down. Lower to the nape of your neck I think. With some feathers?”

Her eyes seemed to brighten just a little as she nodded at your suggestion. You picked up the brush on the counter of the vanity and began to draw her hair into the palms of your hands and twirl pieces around your fingers. You heard Zoro move to the place behind the changing shield and begin removing his bathrobe and sorting through the clothes he had chosen.

“What are you wearing, Captain?” you called over your shoulder while holding your gaze on the locks of the orange-haired woman sat in front of you.

“Nami picked out these for me,” he said with a broad smile, “classy, no?”

You brought your eyes up to view your captain in the silver lined mirror in front of you, looking over the dark vest and pant combination held in front of him.

“Very you, love,” you nodded, returning your eyes to the hair in front of you as you began pinning some of the pieces in place. You smiled slightly, catching Nami fawning slightly over herself as you fashioned her hair to suit your vision.

“How did you get so good at this?” she asked you, meeting your eyes in the vanity, “this girly stuff.”

“My mother,” you responded with a smile, “she used to wear her hair showcasing several of our handmade pieces to demonstrate our craft to the customers in the shop.”

You placed a few white-tipped feathers in Nami’s lower bun, securing them with several small brass pieces. Nami nodded slightly for you to continue talking.

“And when she deemed me ready,” you said, focussing on one brass piece and slotting it within her hair, “that task fell to me.”

You smiled at your work, placing your hands on her shoulders and bringing your face down to her level and looked at her in the vanity.

“You’re really good,” she commented, turning her head slightly to gaze at the back. You picked up a smaller mirror and held it to the back of her hair and angled it in a way she could see the rear of her updo.

“Thank you,” you responded warmly. She offered you a sincere smile and you placed your hand once more on her shoulder.

You heard Zoro cough, prompting you to turn to view his attire. You let out a low whistle and Nami nodded in approval at the dark suit he chose with a tanned shirt beneath it.

“Nice ensemble, swordsman,” you complimented him with an arched brow, which he in turn smiled at the ground in response to your words, almost bashfully.

“Now,” Nami said, interrupting your train of thought slightly while rising from her seat at the vanity, “lets sort you out. Can’t have you attending dinner in a bath robe with your hair in a damp towel.”

You laughed at her comment and followed her lead to the many racks containing a vast collection of tinted silks, satins, chiffon, cotton and feathers. Several items drew you in, but one in particular had you buzzing slightly. A deep, blue dress held you in a trance as you pictured the colour matching the irises of your newly infatuation’s eyes. You reached for the material and smoothed your hands over the frock. Several layers of tulle, fine satin and chiffon fell over the gown with a corset-style back. You held the fabric as you imagined yourself being twirled before being held in the arms of the clown captain. Your eyes began to glaze over as you leant in to your fantasy, imagining the music playing as he held your body against his and whispered his loving desires into your hairline.

“That one?” you heard Zoro ask over your shoulder, noticing how close he truly was to you. This immediately broke the spell you felt over encumbered by. You shook your head before presenting the material to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry Zoro. Did you want to wear it?” you taunted him while removing the hanger from the rack and holding it up to his torso and furrowed your brows in playfulness, “not really your colour.”

You heard Nami laugh as she continued to sift through the racks for something more appropriate than a ballgown for you to wear to dinner. You laughed and turned to put the dress back onto the hanger, only to have your movements halted by Zoro grasping your wrist lightly.

“You’re thinking about the clown again, aren’t you,” he murmured in your ear, in a low enough tone that only you (to your current knowledge) would be exposed to. You inhaled sharply before shaking your head and putting the gown back onto the rack and turning to face him. While training with him and discussing the prior battle he engaged with against Buggy, he noticed how your expression changed. Your posture would stand slightly less alert, eyes glazed over slightly as you pictured the shared kiss in your mind again.

You challenged him with your eyes, opting to not speak to give yourself away. The way his eyes searched yours left an unsettling feeling in your chest.

“You know he’s murdered potentially millions, destroyed towns and nearly killed us, right?” he asked you, holding his hard gaze. You felt a small wave of sadness come over you at the thought of the violent crimes he had committed in his acts of piracy.

“You can’t change a person that far gone,” he uttered to you, breaking his gaze from you to look at your captain, “and if you leave, it’ll break him.”

You followed Zoro’s gaze to look at your captain, now freshly adorning his vest and pants. He reached up to readjust his straw hat and smiled broadly at you both.

“What do you think?” Luffy asked, and without missing a beat; Nami responded.

“You look like Luffy,” she yelled over her shoulder. You saw the captain smile and nod his head in response.

“You’re right. I do look like Luffy,” he confirmed, sitting down on the plush stool in the centre of the room again.

You felt Zoro remove his hand from your wrist and place it on your shoulder as he leant in closer to you and whispered into your ear.

“You can do better than some psychotic clown,” he said before releasing your shoulder from his grasp and turning to take up his swords and fix them on his hip. You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips, shaking your head slightly at the words and continuing to sort through the materials.

“This is the one,” you heard the voice of Nami call from a rack several isles over.

You turned your head to look at the dress she was cradling in her arms. The way you could describe the outfit she was holding out to you would be whimsical. Something from within the pages of the novels you would read while attending the shop back home.

You smiled broadly and took the dress from her arms with a wide smile.

“This is beautiful,” you commented, immediately taking the dress behind the changing screen and pooling the robe at your feet. You stepped into the dress and brought it over your hips first, before placing your arms in the sleeves and pulling it over your torso. You stepped out from behind the screen to reveal the dress. Nami smiled at you as you presented your back to her.

“Would you mind doing me up?” you asked her, pulling the strands of your drying hair over your shoulder to aid her with her task.

“This looks so good on you!” she commented, placing her hand on your zipper and pulling it to the hilt. You walked over to the vanity and looked yourself over, nodding in affirming her words.

“You’re right, it suits me,” you declared while running your fingers through your hair and beginning to fashion it in a style you were accustomed to wearing in your family’s shop. You placed several sentimental pieces of jewellery in your hair, interlacing them between several braids you managed to weave in a few minutes.

A knock appeared at the door, indicating it was time to commence the birthday meal of Miss Kaya, you walked to the side of your captain with a smile.

“Well,” he said, “let’s go eat!”

He offered his arm to you, which you took with a laugh and allowed him to escort you to the foyer where several variety of hors d’ouevres were being offered on silver platters by the staff. You accepted a class of sparkling wine from the tray while retracting your arm from Luffy’s elbow.

Luffy sprung to commence his dining experience, opting to skip the beverages and go straight to the source of the delicious smell he had been craving. You were left alone slightly, as Zoro was speaking with Klahadore, Nami was conversing with Usopp and Kaya while the other members of staff would offer trays of food and beverages to your crew and another man who was introduced to you as ‘Merry’.

You continued to have the uneasy feeling of being watched by someone, often peaking from the corners of your eyes to catch the source in the act – only to find nothing awaiting your gaze. You sighed and raised the champagne flute to your lips and took a small sip of the tart, bubbling liquid.

“Something the matter?” you heard a voice purr to you, pulling you from your trance to meet the gaze of Klahadore. You felt yourself jump a little at his introduction, bringing your attention fully onto him. You sighed before smiling at him, hoping he did not sense your uneasiness at his presence.

“I’ve not had a good pampering for some while, Mister Klahadore,” you said with a warm smile, “I’ve been at sea for longer than I ought to have been, I think.”

He hummed in response, offering you a fresh glass of champagne; which you accepted graciously. He took the empty glass from your hand and replacing it with the full one, “you seem to be one affiliated with the finer things in life.”

“I have been educated, yes,” you responded, narrowing your eyes slightly at his accusation.

“I mean no disrespect,” he said, using the palm of his hand to adjust his glasses closer to his eyes, “you just do not seem like one suited for piracy.”

You maintained your narrowed eye contact, scepticism displayed in questioning his unintentionality of the subtle jab.

“Yet here you are,” he continued, pausing between each word.

“Here I am,” you confirmed with a smile, raising your glass to your lips and sipping at the wine while looking over to make eye contact with the swordsman of the crew. You widened your eyes at him, hoping for him to catch on to your subtle cry for help at being left alone with this unsettling figure. As unaware as one could be in this type of situation, Zoro pointed to the butler with his chin and shook his head in question. You mentally screamed at him, hoping for some unnatural telepathic ability to inflict great harm on the clueless swordsman before attempting to calm yourself and returning your gaze to the butler at your side.

“You’ll be escorted to the workshop after supper,” he said with a twinge in the corner of his mouth before continuing with a small list, “there will be a work bench, some oil, some better tweezers, screws, nuts, bolts, a red hot poker, soldering metal, a blackened glass visor, magnifying glass, and to rehash your words; how did you put it?”

You widened your eyes as Klahadore leant in ever so slightly to your ear and purred into it like one would taunt a helpless, flightless infantile bird.

“A bloody stiff drink,” he uttered with a small chuckle in your ear. You sharply inhaled a breath at this comment and stepped slightly away from the butler, prompting him to teeter his laughter slightly and readjust his glasses before adding, “I’ll escort you myself after I lay Miss Kaya to rest in her chambers.”

You nodded your head to him with an uneasy smile, confirming your attendance before walking over to the place Zoro was standing.

“What the hell was that,” you whispered in a berating manner at him.

“What the hell was that,” he said in the same hushed tone, gesturing to the place you were once standing in with the butler, “when I said you could do better than the clown, I didn’t mean moving on from one unhinged weirdo to the next.”

“What the hell, Zoro,” you hissed at him through clenched teeth, “I was giving you the signal.”

“That you wanted to kiss him? Yeah, I saw,” he whispered back.

You groaned at the comment, using all of your willpower to not smack the swordsman upside the head. Breaking you out of your thoughts, you were alerted to the beginning of the dinner by Klahadore as he escorted Miss Kaya to the head of the table.

“I’ll give you a lesson on what the signal is later, swordsman,” you hissed at him, brushing past him and plastering a fake smile on your features as you entered the dining room.

Unlike your companions, you had been trained in debutant-like manners in your education for formal negotiations with upper-classed individuals. You waited for Klahadore to ensure Miss Kaya was comfortably sat in her chair before reaching for your own to take a seat, unlike Zoro, Luffy, Usopp and Nami who sat down as soon as they found their designated chairs. You mentally sighed at their inappropriate table manners before nodding to Miss Kaya and taking a seat at the table.

You commenced your meal after Miss Kaya took her fist bite, enjoying the meal so dutifully prepared for you; choosing to keep yourself away from engaging in conversation with the troop. You were feeling so unlike yourself, completely thrown by the act you had committed days prior. Usually, you displayed your bubbly, semi-flirtatious and intelligent personality with an organic ease. You furrowed your brows at the thought that the clown had a fierce hold on your very soul, a pull urging you to bring yourself over to him and give in to your unbridled emotions.

And at this thought, you finally snapped. You refused to dwell on the improbable circumstances of ever seeing Captain Buggy again, and especially foster a romantic relationship with the; as Zoro so eloquently put it: some psychotic clown. You had come too far in your crafting skills, education and ability to challenge a persons apprehensions with your charisma to throw it all away to be some love-struck puppy for a powerful sea-captain on an insane rampage. You shook your head from your thoughts and plastered a smile on your face and began to make conversation with Merry who was seated beside you.

You were shocked when Luffy decided to stand up on the table and walk over to the woman who had so openly invited to host you within her halls that your words halted in your throat, causing you to do nothing but to gawk at the scene presented before you.

“Everyone, out of this house at once!” Klahadore demanded, to which Kaya responded.

“No,” she said with a gentle cough, “it’s late. Let them stay the night.”

Klahadore reached for Kaya, bringing her to her feet and beginning to escort her to her bedchambers.

“As you wish, Miss Kaya,” he relented, “but they are to be out first thing in the morning.”

He led her up the stairs, causing you to rise to your feet and bid Kaya goodnight.

“Well, that went pretty well,” exclaimed Luffy with a playful smile, “don’t you think?”

Silence engulfed the dinner guests seated around the table as they all contemplated the sheer ignorance of their young captain. You rolled your head back with closed eyes, hearing a slight click front your left side as you groaned at the knowledge you were about to undertake handling a potentially dangerous item for the cat-like butler.

“I’m retiring to the guest quarters,” you exclaimed, turning with a smile to the ram-looking Merry and giving him a polite bow.

“Sleep well,” he said with a wide smile. You gestured with your eyes to your remaining comrades and suggested with a subtle crane of your neck to exit from the dining room. Nami sprung to her feet after pushing her chair back in response to your gaze. Zoro creased his brows and shook his head in question, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“At least someone understands what ‘the signal’ is,” you said under your breath, linking your arms with Nami and escorting one another up the stairs towards the suite you were all sharing.

You both walked in silence towards the room, enjoying being in the comfort of just the two of you. She seemed to pay close attention to several of the more shiny pieces littering the many benches throughout the hall as you walked.

“Did you live in a place like this?” she asked you, continuing to fix her gaze on a gold-dipped light fixture.

“Absolutely not,” you replied with a small smile, “I grew up with my siblings in an apartment above the shop.”

She hummed in response, continuing the slow pace you kept on your way to the suite.

“You would work with stuff like this, though?” she unlaced your arms and picked up a pristine silver box and weighed it in her palm, “rich people, stuff.”

You sighed and took the box from her hands, “yes, I worked with this stuff.” You placed the item back on the bench before turning to smile at her.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked her with a shrug, “that we were well off? That I was exposed to the finer things in life?”

She creased her brows and crossed her arms at your comments. You sighed and took a step towards her.

“Look, Nami,” you said, placing your hands on her shoulders, “I did overhear parts of your conversation with Zoro. Eat the rich and all that.”

She unlaced her arms and widened her eyes a little at your statement.

“Wealth doesn’t equate to happiness,” you said, searching your gaze into hers, “and every penny I earnt was spent running the shop, and caring for my fourteen younger siblings when my mother passed.”

She let out a small gasp at your declaration and gave you a look of slight sympathy.

“Now,” you said, releasing her shoulders from your gentle grasp with a smile, “let’s agree to not judge one another for our histories and move on. I won’t pity you or pry your past from you, and we don’t question one another’s life choices, yeah?”

She nodded slightly at your words and you both continued on to your chambers.

BONUS BELOW

Holding a hand up to his missing ear, the famed clown captain sat atop his stage chair and hanging on to every word he managed to hear you disclose from its place among he assumed was the bottom of a skirt? His feet were both dangling over the left arm of the chair as he rested his head on the right arm, laying completely down on his back on the firm, wooden base.

He recalled letting out an insane amount of laughter at the fact that he had manage to unintentionally woo you with a simple kiss exchanged between you. He did not restrain his chuckles as he eaves-dropped the private conversation you seemed to be engaging with yourself about in the showers.

“How could this particular woman be so desperate for me,” he maliciously spat with an air of smug confidence surrounding him, “all I did was threaten her and in response, she kissed me.”

He laughed again, kicking his feet slightly at how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was. He pressed the blank space his right ear was no longer attached to and continued to listen to you argue with yourself.

“It wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyhow,” he heard you mutter to yourself in an echoing room.

“Not that good of a kiss, my right ass-cheek,” he growled, sitting up from his reclining position and planting his feat on the ground, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, “it blew your absolute mind, baby. You’re crazy about me!”

He smirked at his own comment, before an uneasy feeling in the pit of his chest began to grow slightly.

“I didn’t even enjoy it that much,” he heard you say, also listening to the sound of a tap filling something large.

“Didn’t enjoy it that much?!” He yelled in a slight fit of rage, bringing the attention of Cabaji as he entered the tent. Buggy’s frown deepened at your words as he felt his chest bubble slightly at the feeling of inadequacy.

“Who are you talking to, Captain?” he asked.

“Shut-up!” he barked at him, “get out, I’m busy!”

Cabaji held his hands out defensively in front of himself and backed away slowly to return to the green room, leaving Buggy alone with his thoughts.

Buggy had a deep frown plastered on his face as he continued to hang onto every word he heard escape your lips.

“He could’ve been faking,” he heard you whisper to yourself, “it could’ve all been an act, a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, only to kill me after he was done with whatever he was doing with Luffy.”

“No,” he felt himself whimper slightly at your comment, dropping his frown and widening his eyes. The pit in his chest appeared to be growing and overcoming him slightly. He brought his other hand up to his lips and traced them with his fingertips lightly, attempting to bring the memory of the taste of you back to his skin.

His memory was flooded with your tender touch. His immediate reaction to push you away and inflict harm on you for daring to pull his body into yourself completely dissipated as you gently brought his body flush against your own and placed your lips against his. He remembered his sinister frown falling away from his brows as they turned upward in shock as he whimpered like some touch-starved stray animal against your embrace. Against his better judgement, he wanted nothing more than to hold you there for as long as you were willing to freely give him. He remembered lacing his gloved hand into your hair and pulling you gently into his embrace, squeezing the soft flesh of your back.

He had never felt a touch like yours before. This was his first encounter with another person so willing to freely express this amount of affection to him, he never wanted to part from your embrace – even ignoring the fact he felt you reach into his pocket to claim one of his throwing knives. He didn’t care if you were going to attempt to stab him in that moment, he would survive and you would look completely and utterly stupid. He was enjoying your touch and didn’t want to tear himself away from your clutches to brace himself for something as small as a dagger in his side.

While bracing himself in expectation of feeling the sharp object to be pried into the flesh you were exposing beneath his jacket, he felt your hands begin to explore his flesh, prompting a unrestrained moan to escape his lips. He wanted more. He wanted all of you, to be with you completely. If you were not holding him so firmly against yourself, he felt as if he would’ve become a puddle of broken pieces below your feet. Your touch brought him to his knees, in a hypothetical sense.

He cradled the empty space his right ear was missing from and felt overcome with the need to be in your presence. He was brought from his concentration on your words as he shook his head to bring him back into the present.

“What the hell?” he asked himself, looking at the position he was sitting in while cradling his ear, “why am I so focussed on you? I don’t even know your name!”

He gasped as he heard the final words escape from between your lips in a tone just above a whisper.

“I think I’m in love with Buggy the Clown.”

His jaw grew slack as he opened it in shock, the feeling in his chest warming his torso with an uncomfortable new emotion. His body slumped back into the broad backboard of his chair as he shook his head slightly, mouth continuing to hang agape in shock.

He felt his eyes begin to glaze over slightly, replaying your final words over and over again within his mind like a well-lit merry go round.

“That’s-,” he uttered in a voice below a soft murmur, “that’s all I ever wanted.”

He felt the well within his chest overflow and shoot tingles throughout his body. He closed his jaw and gulped back the saliva collected in his mouth as he continued to focus on your confession. He dropped his hand down from the empty space beside his head and hung it beside his shocked body. He looked down at his chest as the warmth continued to spread over his form as he came to understand the emotion he was feeling.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered with a wide grin forming on his face, a subtle bashfulness arising alongside a large warmth to his cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

He let out a teetering giggle with a twinkle in his eyes as he came to terms with the adoration he had developed for you. He couldn’t wait to see you again, to tease you before pulling you into his arms. His love, his queen. His.

Part 5

[natailiatulls07]

Daniel Ricciardo x Female!Reader

Summary - Coming home from a races weekend, Daniel realises that maybe gentle moments in bed with his wife is all he needs

Warning - mention of a period

A/n - Hiii I'm back from my small break lol <3

-

When Daniel usually comes back from a race weekend, he’s often greeted with many hugs from Y/n; either at the airport or at the front door. Today, however, he wasn’t greeted with any. 

He had a good weekend, got onto the podium and got driver of the day. So the least he expected was a hug. Walking into their shared apartment, Daniel felt like something was wrong. There were no candles lit, no soft blankets scattered around their sofa and no Y/n.

“Hun? You here? I’m missing my welcome hugs!” He lightly shouted through the apartment. Approaching their bedroom, the Australian noticed a small warm light peeking out from under the door. “Sweetheart?…”

Upon opening the door, he saw his sweet wife laid under the covers. A pained look on her face. On the bedside table were her period medication, ibuprofen, dark chocolate and her large water bottle; Y/n’s ultimate period survival kit.

Looking up from the comfy bed, Y/n held a guilty look in her eyes. “I’m sorry Danny, I’m sorry I couldn’t come and give you a hug…” With a shake of his head, Daniel quickly quietened her apologies and brushed some hair from her eyes. “Well done on driver of the day and for getting on the podium…”

If someone were to ask him who his biggest support is, he’d hands down say Y/n. She hated not going to race weekends to support her husband. “Thank you, how are you feeling? Anything you need…” He had bent down beside the bed to level eyesight with her.

Instead of saying anything, Y/n just slipped her hand out of the warm and snug bed. Reaching and making grabby hands towards Daniel, who happily stripped himself of his coat and shoes before sliding in bed behind her.

Once her husband is happily settled and comfortable, Y/n moves to get something from her bedside table and Daniel's laughter fills the peaceful room. He knows exactly what she’s reaching for; a purple colouring pen.

Whenever she isn’t feeling the best, Y/n loves to just colour in Daniels tattoos. It’s something that allows her to focus on and it also allows the married couple to just relax together. 

Settling back in the bed, the Australian offers his arm over to her and she begins her art. With her tongue slightly sticking out between her lips, Y/n makes sure she keeps her hard working in the lines of the tattoo.

Daniel just watches on, gently caressing and smoothing down her hair with his other hand. Even though he didn’t get his usual welcome home hug, he wasn’t disappointed because what he got instead was so much better. 

“I love you baby…” He muttered, lovingly watching Y/n.

Quickly glazing up to meet his eyes, a small smile on her face. “I love you too Danny…”

-

[mediumgayitalian]

Waking up to music screeching in the inside of his head a half-hour before sunrise every single day is, frankly, hell. Especially when he has the day off. That’s the worst.

But there is, on those rare days off, one benefit — so good it might, although Will shall never in a million years admit it, make the whole ordeal worth it.

On morning shift days, he spends the first ten minutes after he wakes up with his face down into his pillow, praying for the sun to hit the Earth. His prayers have yet to be answered. He spends the next ten minutes sitting, bleary-eyed, at the edge of his bed, waiting for his brain to boot-up and imagining his neurons are making little dial-up internet noises to amuse himself. The final ten minutes before sunrise he spends sprinting silently around the cabin, trying to brush his teeth and put his shorts on at the same time and generally failing at being a person.

Mornings are not fun.

But on his days off, he can afford to be slower. He can’t go back to sleep, true, but he can take the time to let his brain catch up with the rest of him, to breathe, to actually, genuinely wake up, not just be forced to be awake. And then as the sun rises, golden rays bleeding through the window, he bears witness to the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

Nico is gorgeous, swathed in sunlight.

Some might say Will is biased. But Will, these same people might forget, is the son of the god of truth, the god of beauty. He sees these things in the world as easily as some mighty see colour — he can see the Nico is beautiful, and he can see that this is true.

He always is beautiful. Even when he was halfway to dying and twisted in rage in sorrow, he was beautiful. Aside from high cheekbones and a devilish smile and fine, gorgeous hair, he stands in divinity. There is something wholly powerful in the set of his shoulders, the rigidness of his spine; the same kind of beauty in a staggered mountain, in a gnarled tree. A sturdiness, a timelessness, an I have been tested, I have been challenged, I have been beaten; still, I am here. Gracefully, I am here.

Now, Will watches, back to the headboard, as the first few lines of yellow-golden sun filter through the open window above Nico’s bed. They climb slowly, started at his sheet-covered feet, travelling in time up the curve of his cast, stuttering at each fold in the linen, to the crest of his hip. By the time the sunlight crawls over the ridge of the end of the sheet, in bleeds through the window in full, bathing his bare torso in light: his scars, curving like sparkling rivers, his freckles and moles, flicking like dappled light through leafy branches. A forest floor of beauty, in the twisting roots of muscles under his skin, rock-dark bruises over the square of his scapula, the valleys and hills of his ribs. Thousands of miles in which Will loses himself, following the path of the light.

He stirs, slightly, at the brush of his lips against the blurred line of daylight and shadow, tickling the line of his shoulders.

“W’ll?”

“Go back to sleep,” Will murmurs, breathing the words into sleep-warmed skin, raised with goose-flesh.

Nico hums. A small smile tugs the pink curves of his lips, making the corner of his eyes crinkle, the fan of his lashes flutter. Will is awestruck.

“‘Kay.”

He’s out again in seconds, sighing as he settles back against the pillows. His hand, acting out his dreams, drags across the mattress until it spans the curve of Will’s thigh and stills, gripping loosely. Will wraps his own fingers around it and squeezes.

“I love you,” he says softly. He holds his breath, waiting for Nico to stir again, and sighs in relief when he doesn’t. “It scares me.”

A breath of air blows a strand of Nico’s hair across his forehead, almost copper in the early morning sun. Will brushes it easily out of his face, lingering as he tucks it behind his ear.

“I’ll tell you,” he promises, risking another, softer, kiss to his lips. Barely a murmur of touch. “Soon. Sleep well, darlin’.”

[yan-lorkai]

I have a few ask options if you don’t mind? for my man and loml chrollo lucilfer

1) yandere Chrollo with a really cute and sweet darling who loves the colour pink and her whole bedroom is pink and so is her personality, so he kinda fawns and dotes over her and treats her like glass

2) yandere chrollo with a witty sarcastic darling whose nen has been taken away, and they’re at the beach for a fun day

3) yandere Chrollo with a darling who usually begrudgingly shows affection but she’s been hit with an aphrodisiac from some enemy of Chrollo’s or something and so shes drooling for Chrollo and any touch he’ll give and he ofc loves that

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Those were all interesting ideas but being sarcastic to Chrollo made my brain ache in a good way so I'm going with that idea here, darling! Plus shout out to that darling that said it would be funny if the reader had a more Gen z vocabulary, bcs this got hilarious 😂

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

You sit on the warm sand, the waves crashing rhythmically in the distance, the sun bright overhead. It would be a beautiful day at the beach if not for the man lounging beside you, casually reading a book as if he hadn’t practically kidnapped you here.

Chrollo looks calm, almost serene, but you know better. Behind those dark eyes is a predator, waiting, watching, and ready to strike if you step out of line.

You sigh dramatically, tilting your head back and letting the sun soak into your skin. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here for some... ‘fun in the sun’ nonsense. What’s next? Building sandcastles? Catching crabs and shells?” You glance over at him with a smirk, waiting to see if your sarcasm will get a rise out of him.

Chrollo barely lifts his eyes from his book, but the faintest smile tugs at his lips. “Would you rather I kept you locked up inside?” His tone is smooth, unbothered, almost teasing. “I thought a change of scenery might lift your spirits, plus every human being needs some vitamin D.”

“Oh, wow, how considerate of you,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. “You take my Nen, kidnap me, and now you’re trying to act like my sugar daddy or something. Real ‘slay,’ Chrollo.”

This time, he looks up, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “Slay?” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Ah, yes. That’s what you say when someone does something impressive, right?”

“You got it, boomer,” you quip, knowing full well that calling him that would only serve to annoy him. You can’t help but grin when you see his eyes narrow slightly. “I mean, if ‘impressive’ is synonymous with ‘murderous psycho who likes playing with his food,’ then yeah, you’re totally slaying.”

He leans closer, setting the book down, and you can feel the shift in the air — the way his attention sharpens on you, even though his expression remains relaxed. “Careful now, darling. I might start thinking you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

You swallow but hold your ground, despite the little thrill of fear creeping up your spine. “Oh, yeah, this is my dream vacation, Chrollo. #KidnapGoals. Maybe I’ll even post about it, if you ever let me have my phone back.”

Chrollo chuckles softly, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re witty, I’ll give you that. But let’s not forget why we’re here. I could have brought you anywhere, yet I chose a place where you could relax. Perhaps you should show a little more gratitude.”

“Gratitude? Pfft, okay, sure. ‘Thanks for ruining my life, now let’s go get ice cream.’” You shoot him a mockingly sweet smile, winking at him while you had the chance. “Honestly, I think you’re the one who needed this beach day. Trying to remind yourself what normal people do for fun?”

Chrollo’s smile widens, and it sends a chill through you. “If I wanted to know what normal people do, I wouldn’t be here with you, darling. But I do enjoy your company. Even if you insist on using those bizarre phrases.”

You can’t help but snort. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m such a vibe, right?”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Indeed. A most intriguing... vibe.” He leans closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, and your breath catches. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten how you keep testing my patience. There are limits, even for you.”

The warning is clear, but you refuse to let it dampen your spirit. “Noted. But if I’m stuck here, I might as well have a little fun, right?”

He pulls back, still smiling, but his eyes are dark, dangerous. “By all means, darling. Have your fun. Just remember, I’m the one who decides when it ends.”

You force yourself to grin, even as your heart pounds loudly on your chest. “Oh, don’t worry, Chrollo. I’m having a blast. Really. #LivingMyBestLife.”

For a moment, there’s silence between you, the sound of the waves filling the space. And then he chuckles again, softer this time, almost as if he’s genuinely amused. “I do enjoy your spirit,” he murmurs, his voice low. “It makes you all the more interesting to keep you around.”

You know better than to push your luck further, so you settle back on the sand, trying to enjoy the sun while you can. Because with Chrollo, you’re never sure how long these moments of “normalcy” will last before he decides to tighten the chains again.

And his smile is far too scarier to look at for more than 5 seconds. You would rather not look, nor hear him chuckling.

[6okuto]

HE'S NOT SPECIAL

suna x gn!reader | won’t lie. was Fully thinking of miguel o’hara while writing this. i left it vague so u can project anybody though. LOL

suna’s been glaring at you wrapped in a blanket on your phone for the past 10 minutes.

a blanket in one of your favourite colours that you love that he—your boyfriend, he comments to himself—bought for your birthday.

a blanket you’re now kicking up every 15 or so seconds as you loop edits of something, someone, that’s caught your attention more than him in his time of need.

“babe.”

“hm?”

you don’t turn to him when you respond, you don’t pause the video or even lower the volume. rintarou huffs before climbing under the blanket with you.

his arms wrap around your stomach, and he rests his forehead against the back of your head. for a second he could almost forget you weren’t paying attention to him, until he hears you make a noise—a squeak? squeal? giggle? at a new edit you’ve found.

this time, instead of ignoring it, rin lifts his head to watch with you.

“this is who you’ve been posting recently, right?”

he knows he’s right. he pays attention to everything you talk about.

“yeah, isn’t he so handsome? oh my god when he says—” the character’s voice line cuts you off, and you let out another noise before slightly rolling forward and kicking the blanket again.

your boyfriend debates whether he should be offended or find your reaction endearing. (in an offensive way.)

“i could do that.”

“do what?”

“say the thing he said.”

you don’t respond for a few seconds before breathing out a confused laugh. “...okay?”

“he’s not special.”

this time you really laugh. “okay?”

“why don’t you kick your feet when you watch me?”

“what—hey, you don’t know that i don’t,” you protest, finally turning to look at him. “are you pouting?”

“no.”

he is. he has been the entire time, he notes, as he forces himself to stop. you put your phone down and jokingly coo, reaching to squeeze his cheeks. “aw, you’re jealous—”

“no i’m not. that’d be dumb.”

“my rin’s jealous,” you sing-song, and rintarou almost hates how his heart jumps at the way you call him yours. he glares at you while you squish his face together and you laugh again. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i’ll stop watching edits now.”

still smiling at him, you let go of his face and hug him back. then you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips and rin relaxes into it, fingers ever so slightly pressing into the small of your back after successfully getting your attention back.

you pull away to murmur a few inches away from his lips. “just for the record, i’d still pick you over him.”

rin huffs warm air against your skin before nuzzling into the crook of your neck, content. “good.”

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[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)