#tell me this isn’t seize the day

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

*Pulitzer/Snyder/Bulls attempting to stop the Newsies*

Newsies: *singing* ✨I am dancing away from you! I am prancing away from you!✨

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! �� Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[solxamber]

Choose Us!

In which you have to decide on a dorm to become part of.

Part 2: You choose the dorm

"You're serious?" you blink at Crowley, half-expecting Grim to wake you up from this fever dream. "I can move into any dorm?"

Crowley clasps his hands together with a benevolent smile that doesn't quite match his usual dramatic flair. "Indeed, my dear prefect! It's the least I can do to ensure your safety and comfort!"

Grim looks up from where he’s gnawing on a suspiciously burnt sofa leg. "Wait, what about me?!"

"You’ll go where the prefect goes, naturally," Crowley waves off Grim’s protests. "Now, chop-chop! Let me know your decision by the end of the day."

And just like that, he floats out of Ramshackle, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos.

Heartslabyul

The second you hit send in the group chat, you regret everything. Ace and Deuce don’t even wait for you to explain. Within minutes, they’re barging into Ramshackle like the Kool-Aid Man.

“Heartslabyul!” Ace yells, grabbing one of your arms.

“Obviously Heartslabyul!” Deuce hollers, seizing the other.

“I haven’t even decided—”

“Blasphemy!” Ace gasps, as if you’d just insulted his mother. “We’re your best friends, how could you even think about choosing another dorm?”

Deuce nods fervently, dragging you toward the door. “Heartslabyul’s clean! Organized! You’d thrive there!”

"And the desserts!" Ace adds. "Think of the desserts!"

Before you know it, you're shoved into Heartslabyul’s rose garden, where Riddle is waiting with the most extravagant tea party setup you’ve ever seen. There’s a towering cake, delicate pastries, and enough tea to drown Grim.

“I thought you might need proper refreshments while considering your options,” Riddle says, adjusting his posture like he isn’t secretly trying to sway you. “Of course, I have no preference where you go. I’m merely concerned for your well-being.”

Trey hands you a plate with the biggest, most immaculate slice of cake you’ve ever seen. “You’d fit right in here, you know,” he says kindly. “We’re all about structure and care… and good desserts.”

"Plus," Cater slides in with a grin, “imagine all the cool pics we could take together! #DormGoals, am I right? You and me chilling in Heartslabyul, like, all the time?”

Riddle clears his throat loudly. “This isn’t about favoritism, mind you. But if you were to choose Heartslabyul, you’d be part of a dorm that values discipline and respect for the rules.”

Ace nudges you with a smirk. “Ignore him. Just think of all the times I’ll sneak you extra tarts.”

You glance around at the hopeful stares. Grim’s already halfway into a tart he snatched off the table. “I feel like I’m being ambushed.”

“Oh, you are,” Ace says shamelessly.

Savanaclaw

You stumble out of the Heartslabyul tea party, feeling like you’ve consumed enough sugar to fuel a small country. Before you can even catch your breath, a shadow looms over you, and suddenly, you're hoisted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

“What the—JACK?!” you squawk, flailing as he throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“You’re coming with me,” Jack grunts, completely unfazed by your protests. “You need to see why Savanaclaw is the best dorm for you.”

“I can walk, you know!” you huff, punching his back.

He ignores you. “Not fast enough.”

By the time he sets you down, you’re in the middle of Savanaclaw’s common area, where Ruggie is lounging on one of the couches, counting a suspiciously thick wad of cash. Leona’s sprawled out nearby, pretending to nap, though his ears twitch at the sound of your arrival.

Ruggie grins as soon as he spots you. “Ah, perfect timing! I was just telling Leona how we could totally use someone like you here. Right, boss?”

Leona cracks one eye open and yawns, his tone dripping with disinterest. “Tch. Don’t care. They can do whatever they want.”

“That’s funny,” Ruggie says, nudging Leona hard enough to make him growl, “’cause I distinctly remember you saying—and I quote—‘If they don’t pick Savanaclaw, everyone else can rot.’”

Leona sits up, glaring daggers at Ruggie. “I said no such thing.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Ruggie snickers before turning back to you, his grin as wide as a hyena’s. “Anyway, check this out. Leona generously donated some funds to help you... you know, see the light.”

He shoves the wad of cash into your hands. You blink at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Whatever you want! Snacks, clothes, bribes for your annoying friends in Heartslabyul…”

Leona groans and drags a hand down his face. “You’re making us look desperate.”

“We? Speak for yourself, Your Highness.” Ruggie winks at you. “He’s just mad ‘cause he doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

Leona slouches further into his seat, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Look, Herbivore, if you wanna be around people who won’t coddle you, Savanaclaw’s where it’s at. We don’t do tea parties here—”

“Obviously,” you mutter, thinking about the claw marks on the furniture.

“—but we’ll actually challenge you to grow stronger. You can’t get that in the other dorms.”

Jack nods. “He’s right. And we’ve got the best training facilities on campus.”

Ruggie waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, training’s cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Free snacks. Awesome vibes. Me.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “You’re going to scare them off.”

You cross your arms, trying to ignore the way Leona’s ears flick every time you shift your weight. “So… are you guys going to bribe me with anything besides money and vibes?”

Leona smirks. “What, isn’t my dazzling personality enough?”

Ruggie snorts. “Oh, sure. That’s totally why people flock to you.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Leona’s eyes soften just a little, though he quickly turns his head like he doesn’t care.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, handing the wad of cash back to Ruggie, who immediately starts recounting it like you’ve stolen some.

“Better think fast,” Leona mutters, though there’s the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

Octavinelle

As you trudge back to Ramshackle, your brain still processing Savanaclaw’s “recruitment tactics,” a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd crows, spinning you around like you’re a prize he just won at a carnival.

“FLOYD! Put me down!” you shout, flailing uselessly in his grip.

“Nah, I got orders,” he says, grinning ear to ear as he hauls you off toward the Mostro Lounge.

By the time you’re unceremoniously deposited (read: still stuck in Floyd’s arms like a glorified teddy bear), you’re face-to-face with Azul and Jade, both of whom look way too pleased with themselves.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Azul says, standing up from his chair with his signature business smile. “We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Have a seat!”

“I would if Floyd let me down,” you deadpan, glaring at the tall eel holding you like a sack of seaweed.

“Nah, you’re comfy,” Floyd chirps, tightening his grip as if daring you to try escaping.

Azul clears his throat, pulling out a scroll of parchment that looks suspiciously like a contract. “Ahem. Now, as I was saying—let’s discuss the many benefits of joining Octavinelle. For starters, we pride ourselves on being a dorm of intellect and resourcefulness. Here, you’ll have access to unmatched networking opportunities, a plethora of unique beverages crafted by Jade himself, and—should you agree—my personal mentorship in matters of… negotiation.”

He flashes you a grin that screams, This is totally not suspicious at all.

Jade slides a glass of something shimmering and iridescent across the table toward you. “I would be delighted to name you our official taste tester. Imagine the prestige of being the first to try all my… experimental creations.”

You eye the drink like it might explode. “Define ‘experimental.’”

Jade smiles serenely. “You’ll find out.”

“Don’t be shy, Shrimpy!” Floyd chimes in, shifting you in his arms so you’re now sitting sideways like some sort of royal guest. “You’d have so much fun here. We’ve got good food, good drinks, and me.”

Azul adjusts his glasses, sliding the contract closer to you. “And, of course, we’ve prepared a special position for you. All you have to do is sign right here, and Octavinelle will officially welcome you as our newest member.”

You glance at the contract, then at the three of them—Azul’s scheming smile, Jade’s unsettling calmness, and Floyd’s unnervingly enthusiastic grin.

“I feel like this is a trap,” you say.

“It’s not a trap,” Floyd says immediately, which makes you even more suspicious.

Azul leans forward, steepling his fingers. “I assure you, everything is perfectly legitimate. Now, shall we seal the deal?”

“Or,” you say, leaning back as far as Floyd’s grip will allow, “I could not.”

Jade hums thoughtfully, handing you another drink. “At least try the beverages before you decide.”

Azul smirks. “I’m sure a sip or two will convince you.”

You glance at the drink, then back at Azul. “Is this bribery?”

“It’s persuasion,” he corrects smoothly.

“Same thing.”

Floyd suddenly squeezes you tight, grinning down at you. “C’mon, Shrimpy. Just say yes already! I’ll carry you everywhere. Betcha Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw didn’t offer that.”

You sigh, resting your head in your hands. This was going to be a long night.

Scarabia

You barely make it out of Octavinelle alive (or at least with your dignity and soul intact) when you’re immediately ambushed again.

“Prefect!” Kalim’s voice rings out, and before you can even process the sound, you’re being yanked into a whirlwind of color, music, and… is that confetti?

You blink as Scarabia's lounge comes into view, transformed into what can only be described as a full-blown festival. Tables are piled high with food, lanterns glow in warm hues, and cheerful music fills the air.

“Surprise!” Kalim grins, throwing his arms wide like he just gifted you the world. “Welcome to Scarabia! We threw a party just for you!”

“A… party?” you repeat, still trying to figure out how you got here so fast.

“Yep!” Kalim grabs your hands, his golden eyes shining with pure, unfiltered excitement. “I thought, ‘What’s the best way to convince you to join us?’ And then I thought, ‘A party! Everyone loves parties!’”

Before you can respond, a plate stacked with delicious-looking food appears in front of you, courtesy of none other than Jamil.

“Eat,” he says simply, pushing the plate closer.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” you mumble, picking up a fork.

Jamil nods, then leans in slightly, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “This is just a taste of what Scarabia has to offer. Stick around, and I’ll make sure you’re well-fed every day. Properly fed.”

You pause mid-bite, noticing the way he emphasizes the word “properly,” like he knows exactly how many instant noodles you’ve been living off of.

Kalim, meanwhile, is still giving you the most devastating puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. “You’ll join, right? We’d have so much fun together! And think of all the parties we could throw! Oh, and I can get you anything you want! Name it, and it’s yours!”

You glance between Kalim’s hopeful grin and Jamil’s subtle but persuasive bribes.

Jamil catches your hesitation and sighs, placing yet another dish in front of you. “Look, I’ll even help you stay on top of your work. You’re clearly the type who needs someone dependable around.”

“Hey!” you protest, only for him to raise an eyebrow as if to say, Am I wrong?

“Please?” Kalim chimes in, practically bouncing in place. “It’ll be so much fun! And I really, really want you to join. Scarabia would be perfect for you!”

You groan internally, stuffing another bite of food into your mouth just to avoid answering. Between Kalim’s overwhelming enthusiasm and Jamil’s quiet determination, you’re starting to think Scarabia might actually succeed in breaking your will.

You’re doomed. Aren’t you?

Pomefiore

You stumble out of Scarabia, clutching your overstuffed stomach and wondering how you’ve made it this far without officially losing your sanity. Taking the long way around campus to avoid any more ambushes seems like the best idea—you’ve had enough dorm propaganda for one day.

Or so you thought.

You’re halfway through the forest, breathing a sigh of relief at the quiet, when—

“Bonjour, mon cher trésor!”

You shriek as Rook appears out of thin air. Where did he even come from? Why is there sparkly lighting behind him? Is this even allowed?

“Rook! What—what are you doing here?!”

“Ah, I see you were clever enough to evade the others,” he says, ignoring your question entirely. “But you cannot escape me, the hunter of beauty! Pomefiore awaits, mon ami!”

Before you can protest, he’s scooped you up bridal style and is sprinting through the forest with unnatural speed, his laughter echoing ominously.

“This isn’t fair! You’re cheating!” you yell, flailing helplessly.

“All’s fair in love, war, and dorm recruitment, non?”

You soon find yourself unceremoniously plopped down in the middle of Pomefiore’s lounge. Vil is waiting with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression, though the way his foot taps against the floor suggests he’s less than pleased.

“Honestly,” Vil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was the theatrics really necessary, Rook?”

“Always,” Rook replies with a wink.

Epel is off to the side, clearly trying not to laugh at your predicament while casually carving an apple.

“Well,” Vil says, straightening his posture and fixing you with a regal gaze. “I’ve heard about this… situation of yours. Joining Pomefiore would be the obvious choice. After all, we are the epitome of elegance and refinement. It would be a privilege for you to stay here, and I might even be able to do something about your… appearance.”

You blink. "What's wrong with my appearance?”

Vil waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing I can’t fix. Consider it a favor.”

Epel, meanwhile, sidles up next to you, whispering conspiratorially “Don’t listen to him. He’s just tryna butter you up. But, uh… you should totally join Pomefiore anyway. Look, I brought you some fresh juice from Harveston. And this apple.”

You glance at the carved apple he’s offering. It’s shaped like a little heart.

“Epel,” Vil scolds, glaring at him. “Stop bribing them. That’s hardly dignified.”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Epel shoots back, crossing his arms. “I just think we need someone who’ll actually get how hard it is to survive your routines. And they seem cool. So there.”

You feel your brain short-circuiting as Vil and Epel start bickering in front of you. Rook stands off to the side, watching with sparkling eyes like he’s witnessing a masterpiece.

Somehow, you feel like this is still less stressful than Scarabia. But only barely.

Ignihyde

You somehow manage to escape Pomefiore in one piece, though your mind feels like it’s been through a blender. You’re determined to finally make it back to Ramshackle without incident when—

“Prefect!”

You freeze mid-step as Ortho zooms into view, his boosters glowing bright blue. Before you can even blink, he grabs your arm with surprising strength.

“Ignihyde is next!” he announces cheerfully, starting to lift you off the ground.

“Wait, wait!” you shout, flailing. “I can walk! Please, I’ve been carried around like a stolen handbag all day!”

Ortho tilts his head, his LED eyes flickering. “Oh… okay! As long as you promise to come willingly!”

You nod frantically. “I promise! Just no more flying, please.”

Satisfied, Ortho takes your hand and leads you to Ignihyde. The journey is mercifully uneventful, though you can feel your soul leaving your body as you realize what’s waiting for you inside.

Sure enough, Idia is hunched over in the corner of the lounge, a laptop balanced precariously on a stack of game boxes. The moment you enter, the screen lights up with a title slide: “Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Join Ignihyde” in bold, glowing text.

“Oh, you’re here,” Idia mutters, adjusting his hoodie nervously. His hair flickers faintly pink at the tips. “Uh, okay, so—yeah, uh—welcome? Or whatever. Let’s, um, get this over with.”

He clicks to the first slide, which is an overwhelming wall of text filled with bullet points, charts, and what looks like a meme of a cat wearing glasses.

“Reason number one,” Idia starts, stumbling over his words. “Um, we’re quiet? Like, no loud parties or annoying socializing. Uh… unless you count Ortho, but, uh, he’s not that bad. And you can play games as much as you want. Or watch anime. Or—uh—just chill. Yeah.”

Ortho, standing nearby, nods enthusiastically. “Ignihyde is perfect for you! And Brother worked really hard on this presentation!”

You glance at Idia, who’s clearly fighting for his life to make eye contact with you. He clicks to the next slide, which is just a stock photo of a cozy room.

“Reason number two,” he continues. “We, uh, have good Wi-Fi? Like, really good. You could stream in 4K if you wanted to. Not that you’d want to. Or maybe you would? Uh… I dunno. Anyway.”

His hair flickers a deeper pink, and he clicks to the next slide. It’s a crudely edited photo of you and him standing next to each other in front of a glowing Ignihyde logo. You’re not sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.

He glances at you, his expression oddly hopeful. “So, uh… what do you think?”

You can feel Ortho practically vibrating next to you, his bright smile threatening to blind you. Meanwhile, Idia is trying (and failing) to look indifferent, but the way his fingers tap anxiously on the laptop betrays him.

“I’ll… think about it,” you say carefully, not having the heart to crush Idia’s dreams outright.

His hair sparks bright pink for a split second before he slams the laptop shut, muttering something about “overheating processors” and “input overload.”

Ortho cheers. “Yay! I knew you’d see how great we are!”

You manage a weak smile, already planning your escape route.

Diasomnia

You’re so close—so, so close—to finally making it back to Ramshackle when the universe decides to remind you that peace is but a fleeting dream.

“Ah, there you are!”

You barely have time to scream before Lilia literally materializes out of thin air, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into a swirling vortex of green light.

“Wait, NO—”

Too late. You’re already standing in the middle of Diasomnia’s lounge, disoriented and ready to file a restraining order against anyone with teleportation magic.

Malleus looks up from where he’s seated, eyebrows raising slightly. “Child of man? What brings you here?”

“Great news, Malleus!” Lilia chirps, dropping you onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. “They’re choosing a dorm to transfer to, and we couldn’t possibly let them pick anywhere but Diasomnia!”

Malleus freezes, his eyes wide with surprise, before his expression shifts into one of regal determination. He rises from his seat, his imposing height making you feel like a pebble in the presence of a mountain.

“Is this true?” he asks, his voice deep and serious. “You’re choosing a new dorm?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Then it must be Diasomnia.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Here, you will be protected. No harm shall come to you under my watch. And…” He pauses, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I have a gargoyle in my room. A fine specimen. You would enjoy its company.”

You blink. “...A gargoyle?”

“Yes,” Malleus says with absolute sincerity, as though that’s the most convincing argument in the world.

Before you can process that, Sebek practically throws himself to the floor in front of you, bowing with the intensity of a knight swearing fealty.

“Human!” he bellows. “You must choose Diasomnia! To live anywhere else would be an insult to the Young Master’s unparalleled grace and power! Surely, you can see this is the only logical choice!”

“Sebek,” Silver mumbles from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Maybe let them decide for themselves.”

“But, Silver!” Sebek protests, his voice trembling with the sheer force of his conviction. “The honor! The prestige!”

Meanwhile, Lilia floats into view, holding a plate of… something. “Don’t worry about dinner, dear. I’ve prepared a feast for you! Go on, take a bite.”

You stare at the plate. It looks like it might be alive. “I’m… good, thanks.”

“Nonsense! You need to keep your strength up!” Lilia insists, thrusting the plate closer to your face.

Silver sighs, finally sitting up. “You should just do what feels right,” he says, offering you a calm, reassuring smile. “Don’t let them pressure you.”

You glance between Malleus’s earnest expression, Sebek’s passionate pleas, and Lilia’s… questionable cooking. Your stomach growls, but you’re not sure if it’s hunger or the beginnings of a panic attack.

One thing’s for sure: if you survive this day, you’re going to need therapy.

The sun is setting by the time you finally drag your aching body back to Ramshackle. The dorm looms ahead, creaky and crumbling, but for once, it feels like a safe haven compared to the dorm-hopping marathon you just survived.

As you step inside, you’re greeted by the unmistakable voice of your ever-demanding feline companion. “There you are! What took ya so long? I’ve been waitin’ forever!”

Grim is sprawled on the couch, a can of tuna already half-empty beside him. He squints at you suspiciously. “So? Which dorm are we movin’ to?”

You groan, flopping face-first onto the nearest piece of semi-clean furniture. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What?!” Grim squawks, leaping onto the armrest beside you. “What do ya mean you haven’t decided? This is important! We gotta pick one where I can get the most tuna, y’know?”

You tilt your head just enough to glare at him. “Oh, sure. Let me just base my entire living situation on your snack preferences.”

Grim puffs up, indignant. “Hey! I’ve been puttin’ up with this dump longer than anyone! I deserve to have a say!”

You sigh, the weight of the day finally catching up to you. Somehow, Grim being his usual self is oddly comforting after everything. No bribes, no PowerPoints, no gargoyle sales pitches—just Grim being Grim.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” you mumble, your voice muffled by the cushion. “I’m too tired to think.”

Grim eyes you for a moment before huffing. “Fine. But don’t take too long, got it? I’m not stickin’ around this dump forever!”

With that, he hops off to raid the kitchen, leaving you alone to sink further into the furniture. You stare at the ceiling, your brain too fried to process anything else.

Tomorrow. You’ll deal with it tomorrow. For now, all you want is to sleep in your creaky, drafty old dorm. At least here, no one’s trying to kidnap you.

Masterlist

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: wise likes you, and just about everyone on sixth street knows. ❀ ˎˊ- wise x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.3k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc wise idk im still lvl 26 okay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: thanks you stellaronhvnters for plaguing my mind w wise. anywho this my mini break from the series LMAO wise. i love you king.

Wise can hardly focus, and for once, it isn’t because of you.

Not that he minds being distracted by you - quite the opposite. He could spend hours just watching you talk and getting lost in your eyes, occasionally nodding or agreeing with whatever you were talking about the day. He liked hearing your voice; it was soothing like a cool river, especially after a grueling day.

But this time, it’s him who’s being stared at, and to his disappointment, the one burning holes into him isn’t you (although he severely doubts he could handle it if it were to be you).

No, instead, General Chop stares at him from the corner of his eye as he prepares other customers’ orders, a hint of knowing in his usual smile. Wise can see the excitement in the chef’s eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

“Wise?”

He seizes up, bumping his chopsticks. He’s quick to fix himself as you shoot him a nervous, but questioning smile.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he says smoothly (at least he hopes it’s smooth, he still doesn’t know how to talk to pretty people), eager to move past his minor mishap.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you laugh. “I was just saying that you have a little something on your face.”

Wise feels his cheeks warm. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me.”

He moves to grab some napkins, but you beat him to it. Wise swears something in him malfunctions when he turns and suddenly you’re all too close to him, your hand reached out to clean up his face.

“Wha- Wait, what’re you-” he sputters, nearly falling off his stool as he lurches back.

“Hey, stand still,” you scold, your slight annoyance only serving to speed up his heart rate because who in the world said it was okay for you to be this cute.

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming from his head, with how fuzzy his mind feels. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but just sit there, dazed as you dab obliviously at the corner of his lip.

As you pull away, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, mentally thanking whatever deities reigned above that he hadn’t fainted on the spot. That would’ve been embarrassing; Belle would never let him live it down.

His face feels cooler - hopefully it isn’t so red anymore. By the time he’s able to think coherently again, you’ve started chatting again. Wise nods along (he has no idea what you’re talking about), and goes to slurp up some of his noodles when he sees General Chop again.

The chef, obviously holding back a cackle, grins encouragingly at him and flashes him a thumbs up in support. Wise internally groans. Would it be a bad idea if he drowned himself in his noodles right now?

And this isn’t the first time either - Wise is pretty sure the entirety of Sixth Street is aware of his… ugh, crush on you (saying it out loud both hurts him and makes him feel warm inside. Which is a terrible feeling. He wants to throw up).

Just last week, he’d seen you at the Coff Café, and Tin Man, being both a gracious cafe owner and a huge romantic, had decided that that day was a good day to have a 50% off deal specifically for pairs if they bought two or more items.

Wise hadn’t questioned it at first, since it was normal for shops to occasionally hold discounts like these to attract more customers. Even he was guilty of it, being a business co-owner himself.

But then you had to call him out in the line, excitedly waving him over as you were at the cashier ordering. Tin Man was behind you, a smile in his eyes that Wise wasn’t sure he liked, but he begrudgingly made his way over.

He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled as you explained the discount to him. They reminded him of the stars he’d see at twilight, when he couldn’t sleep and would climb to the roof just to watch New Eridu’s nightlife.

Naturally, he had accepted your offer of buying him a free drink (no one refuses free food), but he quickly learned to regret it when he saw the mischievous gleam in Tin Man’s artificial eyes.

He still gets flustered thinking of it now - the heart-shaped whipped cream and the whisper of “good luck” haunts him, especially when he thinks about how confused you were at the impromptu decoration.

The amount of times he’s caught his neighbors playing matchmaker, he can’t count on both hands - and that’s not including what Belle has tried. It’d be funny if it wasn’t also incredibly humiliating.

“Master, if you were planning on drifting off, perhaps you should’ve stayed home to take a nap.”

Wise sighs. “Be quiet, Fairy. I’m in public.”

“What?” you blink. Wise blinks back before realizing he’d been a little too loud.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he chuckles awkwardly, hands fiddling with each other - it’s a nervous habit of his. You smile understandingly.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, pushing your bowl towards General Chop to signify you were done with it. “You’ve been out of it today, Wise. Something on your mind?”

You, Wise wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like embarrassing himself further. “I guess I’m just tired. Long day today.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, the sound music to his ears. You hop off the stool after sliding your share of the payment to General Chop. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

Wise’s heart does a little tap dance at your offer, but he manages to keep his cool. He hastily pays General Chop before eagerly joining you in your short walk to Random Play.

“Bro!” Belle greets him enthusiastically as he opens the door. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she raises her eyebrows suggestively at her brother. Wise shoots her a glare when you aren’t looking. “[Name], too? How was your da- mmghhifjk-”

Wise smiles innocently as he slaps a hand over Belle’s mouth. You can’t help but laugh at the two, and Wise admires the crinkle the corners of your eyes.

“Ignore her,” he says nonchalantly, wrinkling his nose as Belle licks his hand like the little rat she is. “Do you want to come in, or…?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” You wave your hands bashfully. “It’s getting late, so I should be getting back home.”

Wise nods in understanding. Belle pries herself free and he wipes his spit-covered hand on her sleeve, ignoring her sputters and protests (she chose this path. She will reap its consequences).

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

You nod, shifting your feet. “I guess it is.”

Wise’s brows furrow at your behavior - what’s on your mind. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long before his inquiry is answered.

You take a step forward, and Wise feels your arms loop around him in a tight hug. Suddenly, his senses are elevated, and it’s almost as if everything is enhanced tenfold. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sound of your breath, your hair tickling his face and the heat that radiates off of your body against him.

“I really enjoyed today,” you say, stepping back with a smile that could rival an angel’s. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Wise tries to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a squeak like a dying balloon. God, if his face was red before, it must be flaming now. You giggle at his response, before you wave both him and Belle goodbye and leave for your home.

It takes a good five minutes before he can speak again.

“Hey sis?”

Belle sounds as shocked as him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

He hears his sister sigh.

“Wise, you’re helpless, you know that?” she shakes her head exasperatingly. “And just when you finally made progress too.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[kxsalt]

“…audacious, disorderly, insolent…” The bodyguard paces in the princess’s bedroom, complaining about the maid’s conduct. “…Undisciplined?” She lounges in her chair. Her catlike grin widens. “This servant girl has really got under your skin, hasn’t she?” The man starts to deny it. He’s not in the business of admitting weakness.

“If I didn’t know any better…” The princess stands and approaches the towering man. “…I would say you have a crush on her.” Her finger teases his jawline. “I’m only frustrated, princess, because she’s been trying to bait me for a long time. Even more often now, ever since…” He trails off, caught in her rhetorical trap. “…ever since you sodomized her?” She stares into his soul - a bemused glint in her eye.

The bodyguard stumbles over his words for the first time in years. “Yes, I – since that – I mean, my point is, uh…” The princess seizes her advantage. “And what did you do with her, after she – how did you put it – ‘baited’ you?” He regains some composure. “I locked her in a cage in the dungeon.” She goes in for the kill. “Ah, yes, can’t have your precious maid running away now, can we?”

He swallows, at loss for words. “I’ll deal with her. For now, leave her in the cage. Make sure she’s warm and has food and water.” The princess continues. “Oh, and send for my craftsman. You’re dismissed.” The man nods solemnly and leaves. He brings the young girl her amenities. Standing over the cage, he watches her wrap herself in the blanket and eat from the bowl.

The next day, the princess summons the two of them. The maid is wobbly as he removes her from her prison. Worried that she’ll fall, he lifts her up in his arms and carries the girl to the bedroom. They arrive to find their liege waiting for them. An unremarkable box sits on the table. Confused and terrified, the young maid stands before the confident princess.

“My guard tells me you’ve been acting out recently.” She circles around the silent girl like a shark. “I can’t have you distracting him. It’s not good for anyone.” The maid hangs her head in shame. “But you’ve been persistent – and I think I know what the source of your trouble is.” The man watches, curious as to where the one-sided conversation will lead. “I think it’s this.”

The princess lifts up the girl’s skirt with a flourish. “Your needy pussy is getting you into trouble.” The maid winces and cowers. “So I’m going to help you, servant.” A few long strides and the princess arrives at the mysterious box. Reaching inside, she savours the dramatic pause. Her hands lift out of the box.

A handcrafted chastity belt. The maid and the bodyguard gawk at the odd contraption. Almost skipping, the princess returns to the trembling maid. Sliding the curved metal between her legs, the belt is closed with a click. The princess dangles a key in front of the girl. “There, now you don’t need to worry about trying to fuck my bodyguard. Isn’t that an elegant solution?”

Hanging her head, the maid doesn’t know how to react. Even the man is shocked by her method. “Now then…” The princess chimes, hanging the key around her neck. “We can all get back to business.” She takes the bodyguard by the hand and leads him to the bed. “You’re going to take care of me - and you can perform your cleaning duties.”

The maid is dizzy, unable to process everything that has happened. She stares down at the metal secured around her pussy. Am I dreaming? The girl looks up at the couple on the bed. The married princess kisses the old bodyguard. Oh, I am dreaming. Their tongues interlace just like she always imagined. She kneels down next to the bed, waiting to wake up.

Straddling the powerful man, the monarch grinds against his crotch. “Princess, we have a witness.” She doesn’t stop. “That dummy won’t tell anyone.” The maid touches the chastity belt - the metal feels cold. Oh… The princess starts to strip. Is this actually… She pinches her nipple - and feels the pain. Her brain bubbles as the beautiful noblewoman eases his thick cock inside her pussy.

His eyes unfocused, the bodyguard holds her waist as she slips down his shaft. The princess reaches the base of his cock and sits in his lap for a moment. “Feels so good.” Staring directly into the eyes of the shocked maid, her hips start to grind. “Do you have any idea how good it feels, servant?” The caged girl shakes her head. “No? You don’t know how amazing it is to have a big, strong man fuck your tight little pussy?” Another shake.

She leans back and kisses her bodyguard. Bouncing on his dick now, the maid’s head bobs up and down with each movement. “I like that. I think it’s cute. Let’s keep things that way.” Pulling the key out of her clevage, the noble flashes it at her. “My favourite part of being a princess is...” Drool runs from the maid’s tongue, cum drools from the holes in her chastity belt. “…I can do whatever I want.”

“If I want to have rough breeding sex with my bodyguard, I can do that. If I want to be praised like an angel, I can have that. If I want to be treated like a filthy whore, I can be that.” The man and the maid lock eyes. A distant longing is held between them. “Don’t look at him, you fucking whore! Look at me!” The princess rubs her clit with a single finger, pointing. “Look right here, so you know what’s mine.”

The maid obeys. She reaches for her pussy, finding only metal. Her master’s slick pussy devours his cock. “His cock is mine, not yours. Your pussy is mine, not yours. I want to fuck him. I want you to stay a needy virgin. Do you understand?” Giddy, the maid nods her head. The guard is close. He groans and tries to calm the power-mad woman. “Princess…” She ignores him. Grabbing the maid by the hair, she pulls her in close.

He can’t hold back anymore. A harsh yell from the stoic man joins his orgasm. The maid watches his cum flood out of the princess’s pussy and run down his cock. The sensation of him cumming inside sparks her own orgasm. Every detail is seared into the servant girl’s memory. As the woman pulls on her hair, the maid’s hips fruitlessly hump at nothing.

The princess collapses onto the bed next to the man. Her hand strokes his chest. “Kiss me.” The bodyguard obeys. Holding the precious woman in his arms, his lips touch hers. Their observer watches his rippling arms stroke her soft body. “Clean me.” On all fours, the maid crawls between her thighs. Her silent tongue touches the princess’s pussy, and she licks the bodyguard’s cum from her hole.

[verstappensrealwife]

Cellophane - Charles Leclerc x Reader

[charles leclerc masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... charles won't defend reader online due to hate she's receiving. ʚɞ angst, fluff  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1000 words ʚɞ warnings: I wanted to do a pure angst but i just couldn’t, reader falls over, breakup (beginning) ¿happy? ending I guess. Use of Y/N, Y/L/N.

-୨♡୧-

— September, 2023

The hate online isn’t nearly what made your heart into a thousand pieces, it was the lack of support from the one man you wanted support from.

“Why won’t you do this for me?” You asked Charles, a hushed tone of voice. “I- You can’t just ask them to stop?” You were almost begging for him to just… care.

“I can’t!” He shouted back- a harsh contrast to your own tone- “Fuck- You know this! They’re my fans!”

“And them telling me to die is what? Fan behaviour?”

He sat in agonizing silence, every word you spoke cutting deep because he knew you were right. But the thought of admitting it, of crumbling under the weight of his own mistakes, was unbearable. 

So, he clung desperately to his fragile pride, refusing to apologize, even as guilt gnawed at him.

“If you can’t handle it anymore, you…” His voice faltered, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass.

He couldn’t finish, and you could see the unspoken truth hanging between you, heavy and inevitable.

“I should what, Charles?” You demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “Say it.”

His breath hitched as he forced the words out, each one laced with regret. “We… we shouldn’t be together.”

The confirmation of your darkest suspicions sent a wave of anguish crashing over you. Tears welled in your eyes, and you tipped your head back, desperately fighting them off before regaining just enough composure to meet his gaze.

“You’re a coward, Charles,” you spat, the accusation dripping with bitterness. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel, snatching your keys from the table by the door. The slam of the door echoed through the apartment, a final, resounding note to the shattered remains of what once was.

— April, 2024

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun!” Lily exclaimed dramatically, waving the tickets in your face with a mischievous grin.

“Lily… he’ll be there,” you murmured, the hesitation clear in your voice.

Lily Muni He, your best friend and eternal partner in crime, rolled her eyes playfully. “And so will like ten other single drivers,” she shot back with a smirk, “Plus, a ton of rich, single men,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving her a gentle shove. “Fine, fine, I’ll come,” you groaned, snatching the paddock pass from her hand.

“For you, Lily— not the men!”

Saturday, 25th May 2024

Monte Carlo, Monaco.

The first few days had passed without a glimpse of him, and for that, you were grateful. Today felt promising, the crisp morning air in Monaco filling you with a rare sense of optimism. You decided to start your day with a leisurely walk through the city, a few good hours before qualifying, giving you plenty of time to grab breakfast and soak in the peaceful atmosphere.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

“Leo!” a familiar voice called out, breaking through your thoughts. You turned just in time to see Charles sprinting around the corner, chasing after his little dog, the leash flapping uselessly behind him as Leo seized the opportunity to dart away.

And then, before you could react, Charles collided with you, sending you sprawling onto the pavement with a startled yelp. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and before you could fully process what had happened, you felt a warm, wet tongue eagerly licking your ear and jaw. You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as you sat up, only to find Leo wagging his tail furiously, clearly pleased with himself.

“I—I am so sorry,” Charles stammered, thrusting his hand out toward you. That’s when you looked up and met his eyes, and the surprise and awkwardness on his face softened a little. “Y/N?”

You hesitated for a moment, then chose to stand up on your own, brushing off the lingering embarrassment. “Charles,” you greeted, your voice tinged with awkwardness.

“S-sorry—he—he just ran off…” Charles fumbled, pointing to Leo, who was still beaming up at you, his tongue lolling out in delight. You noticed the slight stutter in Charles’ voice—something he never did in front of anyone. Then again, you weren’t just anyone.

“It’s fine,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Not the first time you’ve embarrassed me.” You teased, watching as Charles forced a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m joking,” you added quickly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good!” Charles responded a little too quickly. “I got a dog!” he announced proudly, then blushed as he realized how obvious that was. “But, uh, you can see that.” He laughed, a little sheepish.

“How about you? Boyfriend?” he asked suddenly, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. It was a little inappropriate, but the curiosity—no, the longing—was clear in his eyes.

You offered a shy smile, shaking your head. “No… I did, but we broke up.”

“Oh?” Charles tried to sound casual, though he already knew about your ex—he might have checked your Instagram a few times. “How come?”

You sighed softly, glancing away before quietly admitting, “He wasn’t you…”

A slow, hopeful smile spread across Charles’ face. It might have been a little insensitive to feel happy about your breakup, but he didn’t care. Maybe, just maybe, you still loved him.

“I can be better,” he blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation. “I—please…” He sighed, the words hanging in the air between you.

You looked at him, your heart caught between old memories and new possibilities. “Qualify P1, and I’ll take you up on your offer,” you said, a small smile playing on your lips.

Charles grinned, hope flickering in his eyes. Maybe this time, things could be different.

[toxicanonymity]

i had dream about this lol. reader is naive/innocent/virgin, they know about sex but not much about masturbation. reader tells joel that they’ve been having this problem at night (usually) where they get all hot and achey down there. joel’s like well i know a way you can fix that feeling!! hopefully this isn’t too outrageous, i just love perv!joel lololll

Aches

900 / Joel x virgin!Reader / joel master

✨ prequel: fires | sequel: thoughts

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag. fingering, grinding. mention of Joel being a girl dad.

You can't sleep.  You scoot your lower body forward and away from Joel's crotch.  

"You okay, sweetie?" 

Not really, but you don't know how to talk to him about it.  You’ve been sharing a sleeping bag with Joel after yours was lost in a scuffle.  Joel's is big enough for both of you, but barely.  You’re settled in against him with your head on his bicep trying to get to sleep, but he was poking into you again, and it makes you ache.  The feeling between your legs is so distracting, so overwhelming you can't sleep.  

It seizes you and won’t let you relax, but you don’t know what to do about it.  You’re a grown woman, of course you’ve tingled before, felt the warmth between your legs, thought about sex, hoped to have it one day.  But this aching, throbbing feeling worries you.  It’s so beyond anything you’ve ever felt before.  It's extreme and sometimes it hurts. You worry something has happened to you from sleeping so rough, not having the right products people used to have for their periods.

The feeling is at its worst when his dick gets hard and presses up against you.  That makes you suspect it's sexual. But you never learned how to get yourself off, and it's too late now.

"Um, yeah," you whisper. "I'm okay."

You squirm uncomfortably and dig a hand between your legs just to stay there.  

"What's wrong honey?" 

You sigh. "I just feel funny, that's all. You can't help. It's girl stuff."

"Now, hold on. Gimme some credit. I was a girl dad remember?  You havin' cramps?"  He gently rubs your lower belly, making the throbbing between your legs even worse.  

"No, not like that," you groan.  

He lifts his head up and gets more serious. "What's goin' on, sweetie? Where's it hurt?" 

Your face burns as you start to try to tell him. "In the front between my legs." 

His breath hitches.  "What's it feel like?" 

"It just aches and tingles and feels like a lot of pressure." 

He inhales deeply. "Anything else that goes with it?"

"I get wet," you say. "But I don't think it's like normal. This is really a lot, and I'm afraid something's wrong." 

He's quiet for a moment. "Nothin's wrong with you, baby," he murmurs. "Imma try somethin', okay? Tell me if this makes it worse or better."

"Okay." You're desperate.  Plus, you've been traveling with him for weeks and you're past the point of modesty.

He nestles in behind you and grinds his hard cock into your ass. "Worse or better?" 

"Worse, worse." 

"Okay, now we know what the problem is. It's just tension, baby. Built up pressure. Your body's reactin' to mine."

"Okay. . ."

"Just gotta relieve that pressure. It's okay, we all do it. I can give ya some space if ya want" 

Your heart rate speeds up.  He must assume you know how. "I don't do that," you whisper. 

"Ya gotta. Not gonna go away on its own, sweetie."

"I never figured out how. maybe something's wrong with me"

"Nothin's wrong with ya sweetie." He's quiet for a moment then he strokes your abdomen reassuringly. His hand finds yours between your legs. "Want some help?" He asks. 

"Um, alright." 

You move your hand out of the way and Joel's replaces it, first feeling you over your underwear. He whistles silently when he feels how wet you are. Then he slides his hand into your waistband.  "This okay?"

"Yeah." 

He backs up and urges you to lie down flat on your back.  His hand wedges between your thighs and you move them apart, making space. He watches you watch his hand. He bypasses your clit to wetten his fingers with your arousal. "This okay?" He asks and you nod. 

His middle finger prods at your entrance "can I go in?"  You nod again. 

He scoots up and presses his hard cock into your hip as he swirls his finger, then inserts it to the first knuckle and your mouth falls open with the intrusion. "Real tight," he mutters. 

"What's that mean?"

"Nothin', baby."

He proceeds to insert his whole finger, then adds another.  He slides his fingers through your folds then finds your clit and begins to rub wet circles. "Tell me when it feels right," he says. 

He tries a few angles, speeds, and techniques until one really hits the spot and you say "that."

"Good girl." 

He rubs you just how you like. "Now if you wanna touch your nipple or somethin', sometimes that helps, too." 

You slide a hand under your shirt and lightly caress your breast. You feel your lower belly heating up, you're getting more tense but also feeling so good with his hand between your legs.  He grinds himself into you as he fingers you and watches your spine begin to arch. 

"Come on, sweetie. Let it happen."

You whine from the pressure. "Joel, I - I don't know how"

"Sure ya do, baby just let go, let it happen," his voice is soothing and low. 

You whine again and pinch your eyes shut. 

"I know baby, you're almost there;" 

A few more strokes and you see stars.  You ride massive waves of pleasure and relief. It feels so good you cry. 

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I got you."  He caresses your face. "You're okay, I got you, sweetie." He presses a kiss to your temple.

SEQUEL: Thoughts

-

Thank you so much for reading. I always love your comments 🥹🙏

If you're into innocent readers, there's more where this came from. . . My ongoing series Left in Lincoln has an innocent, naive, virgin reader. And my master list has a virgin section lol.

-

[revelboo]

Everyone else: yearning, hating, yearning, pining, yearning and pining.

Rumble: DAY ONE MAKEOUT BABYYYYY

And then some 😆 18+ 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 3

Rumble x Reader

• Venting raggedly against your throat, he doesn’t want to move. Especially feeling the way your thighs are trembling under him and the way you smile lazily at him, your cheek resting on an outstretched arm. Lips mouthing your skin, tasting salt, he listens to that warm, throaty laugh. “Careful. I might just take you home with me if you keep that up.” Is that an option? And why would you think he doesn’t want to continue whatever this is? “You alone, Rumble?”

• You feel like you can almost see the guy’s eyes through that red visor. With how dim the store room is, it’s hard to be sure. He’ll probably think you were joking, but really? Your new friend fucks like an animal. Definitely not a quickie one and done like your ex. And taking him home? Keeping him at least a few days to get him out of your system by getting him into your bed? Oh, so tempting an idea. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, hips rocking against you. Ready to go again already? This guy isn’t human.

• Groaning as he grips your hips and begins lazily thrusting again, he watches you shiver and close your eyes with a low, needy sound. It’s the sound of the doorknob rattling that makes his movements falter, lip lifting to bare denta as someone bangs on the door. “You better have fucking clothes on by the time I get this door open,” someone’s yelling and your human starts laughing, reaching back to push against his shoulder. “Party’s over, champ.” Over?

• Pushing a little more firmly, Rumble finally slides out of you, turning away as you shove off of the container you’d been using. You can’t make out the writing on it, but sincerely hope it’s not foodstuffs, because you both made a mess. Hurriedly righting your clothes and trying to ignore his excess running down the inside of your thighs, you glance at him. He’s already fixed his costume, hiding your new favorite part of him. “Ready for the walk of shame?” You ask, offering him a hand. Because awkward is easiest when you pretend you don’t care at all and it warms you when he plays along, seizing your hand like he’s afraid you’re going to bolt and leave him.

• Apparently whoever had yelled at them and banged on the door had made enough noise to draw a curious crowd. Walk of shame? Grinning crookedly, he pointedly stares down the gawking organics, because why should he care that they know you’re his? Until he spots Frenzy, his twin’s mouth hanging open. That sours his amusement some, especially as Frenzy stalks over. “What are you doing?”

• There’s two of them, attention sliding from their matching costumes to their similar, gray painted faces, you decide they must be brothers and the thought sends your deviant brain spinning with the impulse to invite them both home. Especially when you notice your ex in the crowd of onlookers whispering and snickering at you both. He’s not laughing, though as his hands work at his sides like he’s itching to get them on you. Like he thinks you’re still his. And you lift your chin, even as you shift closer to Rumble. Because he’s never putting his hands on you ever again. “He’s coming home with me,” you tell his brother, seeing Rumble grin from the corner of his eye. “I’m borrowing him for the night. Maybe all week.” That part you say louder just for your ex, flashing him a sweet smile as he glares at you, that look promising you’ll have new scars the minute he gets you alone again. And Rumble’s fingers tighten on yours, that grin of his just like a kid turned loose in a candy store as his brother stares between you two in almost comical disbelief.

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[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

[downbad4sylus]

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

synopsis: You and Sylus visit a coffee shop and unexpectedly run into Doctor Zayne.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; pre-relationship; zayne cameo; just, so much fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2k

a/n: see guys, i’m capable of writing not-angst. also can you tell i have a headcanon about them holding hands while linked or what lol. anyway, i love exploring the dynamics of sylus with the other LIs, i have another one brewing ft. our resident doctor (NOT ANGST) and i’ll probably do some with the others in the future. if anyone has anything they want me try and write for them, please feel free to ask, im happy to do so :)

Dragging Sylus out in Linkon City during the day was never easy, but when a certain energy linkage was keeping you locked to each other’s sides and you just had to have your morning coffee, Sylus was a bit more agreeable.

So there you both stood, waiting in line to order. You’d developed a bit of a habit of holding hands as you’d long since grown used to the linkage binding your wrists. Sylus’s hand dwarfed yours, something that took time to get accustomed to, but now the feeling of his fingers laced with yours was a comfort, and admittedly something you often craved without the linkage.

“Will you let me pay for you this time?” you asked Sylus, peering up at him.

He breathed a low chuckle. “Don’t think so, sweetie,” he replied.

“You never let me pay for anything,” you grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You tugged Sylus along as you stepped up to the cashier. After placing both your orders (and begrudgingly allowing Sylus to pay), you waited off to the side for your names to be called.

“I’d like to go for a walk after this, if that’s okay,” you said to Sylus. It was overcast today, weather Sylus was more comfortable to be in during the day, you’d noticed.

“That’s fine,” Sylus said. “Where would you like to go?”

You beamed at him. “Actually, there’s a park not far from here, and since the leaves are starting to turn the scenery should be perfect for a—”

“Y/N?”

You whirled around at the sound of your name, spoken by an all too familiar voice.

“Zayne?”

Sure enough, there was your primary care physician, standing with his brow slightly furrowed and his gaze locked on yours and Sylus’s intertwined hands.

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you here,” you commented, drawing his attention from your hand to your eyes.

“This coffee shop isn’t far from the hospital, I stop here in the mornings quite often,” Zayne said. His hazel eyes flicked to Sylus. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Right, Doctor Zayne this is Sy—uh, Skye, he’s…” you trailed off, panic seizing your mind as you fumbled for any explanation as to why you were here with Sylus, holding his hand, that wasn’t the actual truth.

“Her boyfriend,” Sylus lied smoothly, sticking out his unoccupied hand at Zayne. “It’s nice to finally meet you, doctor, Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

You missed the nearly imperceptible flare of Zayne’s eyes at Sylus’s answer, too busy short circuiting over the fact that Sylus had just introduced himself as your boyfriend. When had you gone from “besties” to “boyfriend?”

“Nice to meet you too,” Zayne said politely, shaking Sylus’s hand. “Y/N, you never told me you were seeing someone.”

Sylus laughed. “We only just became official.”

You finally managed to regain your composure. “Right, and I haven’t been by for an appointment since then, otherwise I would’ve told you,” you said, bolstering the lie.

Zayne nodded, as if satisfied by your answers. “Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Oh, Zayne please, that’s not necessary,” you insisted. A barista called for your orders, which Sylus grabbed and handed to you before taking his own. “Zayne, why don’t you come sit with us? Unless you have important doctor business to take care of.”

Zayne’s lips tilted ever so slightly at your teasing remark. “Sure, I have some time before I have to get back.”

Once Zayne received his coffee, the three of you found an unoccupied table and sat, with you and Sylus on one side, hands still clasped, and Zayne on the other.

“So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” Zayne asked with clinical precision, his stare just as sharp.

“Quite a few months now,” Sylus said. His bright red eyes focused on you. “Y/N practically fell on my doorstep, and I guess you could say the rest is history.”

You snorted, though your cheeks were as red as Sylus’s eyes. “That’s one way to describe it,” you muttered.

“What, sweetie? Would you explain it differently?” Sylus asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head. “No, yours was fine,” you quipped.

“How kind,” Sylus drawled.

You glanced at Zayne and found him watching the two of you with his head tilted. Mirth danced in his hazel eyes, as if observing the “happy couple” was amusing.

“How’s work been, Doctor Zayne?” you asked.

“Fine, the usual,” he answered. “And you? Any injuries you haven’t told me about either?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’ve been very careful.”

Zayne’s lips curled. “I have a hard time believing that. Skye, has our Hunter been careful lately?”

Sylus’s fingers twitched around yours but his expression didn’t falter. “To everyone’s surprise, she has. No secret injuries to report.”

Zayne made a satisfied hum. “What do you do for work Skye?”

You stiffened. Nothing caused you more anxiety than when someone asked Sylus too many questions. He was a practiced smooth talker, able to craft a believable lie without a second thought, but you still couldn’t help worrying. The last thing you wanted was for him to be recognized, for him to be taken away from you.

Sylus rubbed his thumb along yours soothingly. “I own a few small businesses here and there,” he told the doctor.

“He runs a fruit stall!” you chimed in excitedly.

“That’s one of the few,” Sylus chuckled.

“I had some of his watermelon once at a work function he happened to be catering,” you continued. The very same work function Sylus had called you “besties.” Sylus really was your best friend though, you realized so suddenly your heart practically skipped a beat.

“Well, I’m glad that business is good then,” Zayne said.

You and Zayne then slipped into a casual conversation, catching up on the recent happenings in each other’s lives, while Sylus remained more of a quiet observer.

Actually, Sylus was debating on whether or not to kill (or seriously maim) your primary care physician.

Sylus would never admit to being jealous, but his chest tightened watching you speak to the doctor, hearing the way you laughed at his eerily similar dry humor. He knew you’d been childhood friends and had a long history, but it certainly didn’t help that the way Zayne looked at you was the exact same way Sylus looked at you. And he hadn’t missed the flash of longing in Zayne’s eyes when he’d first spotted your clasped hands at the counter. It was why Sylus had gone out of his way to introduce himself as your boyfriend, even if it meant speeding up his timeline with you a little.

However, Sylus couldn’t deny that Zayne’s role as your primary care physician was an important one, crucial even. He was a renowned cardiac surgeon and an expert in Protocore Syndrome, making him perhaps the only person equipped to help with your heart condition. So Sylus would let him live, because you would be upset with him if he didn’t, and because he was a valuable asset.

Finishing the last of his coffee, Zayne flipped his wrist, checking the time on his watch. “I’m afraid I have to get going now, my break is almost over,” he declared, rising from his seat. “It was nice meeting you Skye, and I’ll see you for your next check up soon, Y/N. No getting hurt in the meantime, okay?”

“Hey! I told you I was being careful!” you exclaimed.

Zayne gave Sylus a withering look. “It’s good to know there’s someone else who understands Y/N’s penchant for danger.”

Sylus recognized the comment for what it was, a white flag thrown at his feet.

Brow cocked and mouth tilted, Sylus picked it up. “Her recklessness knows no bounds.”

“Since when did this become a gang-up-on-Y/N session?” you questioned.

Both Zayne and Sylus chuckled.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Zayne said. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“I’m sure,” Sylus replied.

“It was nice seeing you Doctor Zayne!” you called after him as he swiftly took his leave.

You and Sylus left shortly thereafter, going to the park you had mentioned to walk amongst the multicolored trees. The linkage dissipated on the way over, but Sylus never let go of your hand.

And now alone with him, your thoughts spiraled.

You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, you had for quite a while. You two had been spending a lot of time together recently, whether it was you frequenting Onychinus’s base and ruining your sleep schedule, or him staying over at your apartment and ruining his sleep schedule. But even so, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same about you, and now that he’d so casually introduced himself as your boyfriend, you didn’t know what to think.

“I think I see steam coming out of your ears, sweetie.”

You whipped your head toward him. “Why would you say that?”

He smirked. “You’re thinking very loudly. Tell me, what is it?”

It was hard to deny him when he spoke so softly, something he reserved for you and you alone.

“Why did you say you were my boyfriend?” you asked quietly, averting your gaze.

“Because it was easier than explaining our actual relationship,” Sylus said simply.

“And what, exactly, is our actual relationship?”

His brow quirked. “I was under the impression we were something far more than just boyfriend and girlfriend, unless I’ve misread the situation.”

You pulled him to a stop, gaping at him. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Of course I’m being serious, when have I ever not been?” Sylus tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Have I misread the situation, sweetie?”

It was rare to see Sylus nervous, if that was what you could call it.

You shook your head. “No, I just—I had no idea you felt that way.”

Sylus huffed. “Y/N, I told you that I adore you, that there is no love purer than mine, what else could I have meant by that?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured.

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of yours. “Talk to me, kitten.”

“Are you saying you love me?” you blurted.

Sylus grinned. “I am,” he said.

“Then say it,” you demanded.

He tugged your hand and you fell into his chest. His free hand threaded into your hair and tilted your head up to look at him, into those mesmerizing red eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his deep voice so tender it made your heart flutter.

“Sylus,” you breathed. You reached up and cupped his cheek, tears welling in your eyes. “I love you too.”

He huffed a disbelieving chuckle before pressing the most gentle kiss to your forehead. “We should’ve run into your doctor sooner,” he murmured against your skin.

You reared back, slapping his chest. “Don’t ruin our moment!”

Sylus only laughed in response.

Finally letting go of your hand, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. Your own arms twined around his neck, stretching on your tip toes to better maintain eye contact.

“So where does this leave us?” you asked.

Sylus shrugged a shoulder. “Where do you want it to leave us?”

You smiled. “Well, I guess you’re my boyfriend now, even though you never formally asked me to be your girlfriend.”

His lips twitched. “Would you like me to perform a grand gesture?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“All right, kitten, then I hope you look forward to it.”

[rxzennia]

rare critters

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 a healthy dose of curiosity (ft. dr ratio) yall if i have to write another report i think i might kms sorry im 3 days late lol i was busy making concept art 

when dr ratio somehow acquired a few rare critters from herta space station, he thought of one person:

aventurine.

if he’s so bad at looking after himself, maybe he could take care of something else instead. and these cat cakes are pretty tame and adorable… seems just right for him.

ratio sent a text to let aventurine know he’s coming to drop off some souvenirs

said souvenirs being these critters

ratio has one on top of his head and two in one arm as he rings the bell

it’s sometime in the afternoon, and you’re not around

(you’re attending a meeting on aventurine’s behalf so he can have a longer lunch break)

(you do that pretty often, actually. that’s why your boss can have entire afternoons or evenings to himself)

nothing would’ve prepared ratio for what he sees when aventurine opens the door

one, no, two? no, three?? faceless serpents slithering around his feet

and one really huge one around his neck???

their maws, aeons, their maws. as stunned as ratio is, he’s also scared shitless

they remind him of a certain aeon and he isn’t sure if he liked the implications

though, that aeon has long since disappeared…

the very moment the serpents sniffed something in the air, they’re all right up in ratio’s face

the trash cakes are definitely scared shitless

they’re quivering and whimpering

ratio is trying so hard to hide his unease

“since when did you have pets, gambler?”

“oh, they’re my assistant’s – don’t bite, please.”

and these dangerous, dangerous noodles listened???

they backed off obediently while still scenting the air again and again

at least they’re not one hair away from ratio anymore?

wait, more importantly…

“you’re living with your assistant?” ratio can’t help but ask. “and… they brought their pets over?”

technically, the slithery creatures around the house aren’t your pets, they’re literally parts of you, but does aventurine want to get into the details? not particularly.

“doctor, it’d be heartless of me to tell them to leave their pets,” aventurine chuckled, “it’s a long story. are these…?”

“i thought pets would do you some good. seems like your assistant has the same idea.” ratio passes the three cakes over to him. “here – from the space station.”

aventurine tells the especially thick leviathan on his neck to get off so he could hold the trash cakes

more like patting its body a few times until it got the signal and slid off of him

the cakes like him!

once he’s passed the sniff test, the cakes are all over him

they do remind him of someone, with those yellow eyes and grey… trash can(?) like body…

he holds them carefully, because unlike your creatures, he needs to hold onto these little guys

else they’d fall

invites ratio in while he’s at it, and he sits down to properly examine them

ratio watches aventurine for a moment, until your serpents catch his attention

oh, he’s so unnerved by them, but also…

he’s so curious! his scholarly senses are telling him to seize the opportunity!

are they really the same creatures as the ones depicted in the scriptures for oroboros?

how did aventurine get his hands on them? or rather, how did you get your hands on them?

and why are they so, so… docile, if they are really what he thinks they are?

what have you done!? how did you get them to be your pets?

his academic interest in you might have just skyrocketed

he engages in a staring contest with a creature with no eyes

somehow, somehow he just knows it’s a staring contest

he’s debating between approaching or not

they look like they would snap his neck before he could even react

“don’t try it, doctor,” aventurine warns, reading ratio’s actions from a mile away, “they’ll probably bite.”

“huh…” ratio makes a sound of pure wonder as he stands still, staring at the few noodles slithering over each other and scenting the air around him. “how did you tame them, then?”

“i didn’t.” aventurine shrugs as he plays with the new critters in his arms. “just sit tight, my assistant should be back soon.”

does that mean you’re the one deciding who gets to touch your serpents and who doesn't???

meanwhile aventurine has taken to the cakes from the space station

they’re so delicate and adorable, with their huge eyes and how stretchy they are

such a contrast to your huge serpents

your serpents are curious about them too, it seems

they keep trying to slither up aventurine’s legs

he has to keep pushing them down, all the while their maws opened and closed

trying to get a feel for the taste of these critters

not trying to outright eat them, just trying to get a taste

ratio is itching to just… grab one of your noodles

he can’t

how devastating

just then, the door opens with a click

“i’m home, aven.” you enter and practically throws your shoes off. 

the sudden need to retain some semblance of formality in your home feels foreign to you now, but you’ve sensed someone else’s presence. it can’t be helped, even if the name aven feels odd on your tongue.

weird, aventurine usually runs out the moment he hears you

when you made your way to the living room, you see him and… some random guy?

said random guy looks like he’s into greek mythology?

is he like zeus or something

no, more like male athena or something

“oh, welcome back!” aventurine perks up as he lifts one of the cakes and shows it to you like a proud parent. “look at these little guys!”

your eyes never quite look away from the stranger, but you also dazedly take the critter into your arms. “this is…”

you immediately catch ratio’s eye – the way you carry yourself, the way the ends of your scarf seem to move on their own, and the way the few serpents find their way up your neck without so much as trying to touch the cake in your hands (even though they’ve been trying to taste it when it was in aventurine’s arms).

“veritas ratio.” he stands up before aventurine could introduce him and offers you a handshake. “you might know me as dr ratio of the intelligentsia guild.”

you stare at him without much of a reaction

his hand stays outstretched as he watches you expectantly

after a few seconds, you give his hand a firm shake and introduce yourself

you do know him, actually, you’ve read a few of his works

you quite liked his takes on philosophy and natural theology

he’s very insightful for a mortal

“can i help you?” you ask, because you don’t think ratio would bother talking to you if he hadn't been curious about something.

“your pets are most fascinating,” he gets straight to the point, “may i examine them?”

???

your pets?

the serpents? 

you look to aventurine, who just turns away like he didn’t tell ratio those are your pets

you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhales exasperatedly

then again, perhaps calling them your pets is the best course of action right now

because the other option is spilling the beans about yourself

yeah

so… nice save, aventurine

you set down the critter in your arms on a nearby table and turn to face the doctor

“here.” you pick up one of your leviathans and guide it over to ratio. “they might do… things around you, but they won’t hurt you.”

ratio tries not to flinch when the heavy leviathan slither up his arm and coil around his neck loosely, but he winces and backs away slightly anyway. “how are you so certain?” he watches the creature with so much wonder as it scents him, then lifts its head so he can stare at it properly. or the other way around; so it can stare at him properly. who knows.

a healthy dose of cynicism is always good

it’s not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from

you shrug, because you really have no better answer without outing yourself

“i have them trained.” you say, but at this point you’re just pulling shit out of your ass

aventurine immediately covers his mouth to hide a snort

you shoot him a quick glare

you run a hand along its smooth body to show ratio that yes, he can touch them

its maw opens a little wider and drools a little onto the carpet

ratio carefully puts his hand on top of its head

it turns its head on contact and nudges against his hand

trying to scent the thing touching it (aka ratio’s hand)

but it doesn’t do anything other than what appears to be purely harmless scenting

could this possibly be the subject of his next paper?

“don’t think about it, doctor.” you cut him off the moment you see the telltale glint of academic interest in his eyes. 

“i must disagree; they are of leviathan descent, are they not?” ratio asks, now caressing the big noodle with both hands and handling it with less hesitation than before, “this is of utmost significance; they might shed some light on the mystery of oroboros the voracity.”

you narrow your eyes at ratio

he doesn’t even try to prod around the subject, he just hits you in the face with it

as expected of such an erudite scholar, but still

(aventurine is watching the interaction with much interest while he plays with the cats)

(it’s like he’s enjoying the show)

(the remaining free serpents of yours has coiled up by his feet and fallen asleep)

(since they’ve realized aventurine doesn’t want them near the cakes)

you don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, or your serpents

you don’t want things about oroboros to spread, either

in fact, you’re quite thankful to the enigmata and the ipc for heavily censoring them 

“with all due respect, i refuse.” you do not allow any room for disagreement. “you are prepared to uncover the truth. is the rest of the cosmos ready?”

that’s not all of your argument, but the one you determine would be enough to keep ratio from conducting and publishing research about leviathans for now. oh, right – you’re not against ratio’s curiosity. you simply don’t want that curiosity to spread far and wide.

ratio frowns, not expecting such a swift rejection from you, but you do have a point. he’s a little blinded by his excitement.

your rejection sounds a little personal, if aventurine may say so himself

to ratio, it is very much just you being overprotective of your pets

as all pet owners do

to be fair, it’s hard to say. ratio is a sharp man

you stare at him, and he stares at you

the leviathan hanging on his neck tilts its head in confusion

if ratio is anything, he’s persistent

especially when it comes to knowledge

he opens his mouth to try to convince you again

you beat him to it and raise a hand to stop him from talking. “you can examine them for as long as you do not make publications.”

ratio is taken aback, his brows furrowing as you give him permission for further interaction with these descendants of ancient leviathans. this is your first meeting, so why –

in fact, aventurine is wondering the same thing

like, why are you getting along with the doctor so well when you’ve only met today

he’s not jealous or anything, he just has a huge question mark on your reactions

you’re usually very, very guarded against people who ask questions

especially about your scarf

but then ratio did see your serpents slithering around

perhaps you see no way of weaselling your way out of this?

anyway

if we’re being honest, ratio also has a huge question mark on your reactions

“i am a fan of your philosophical works,” you say, guiding your serpent back around you, “hence i am willing to satisfy your curiosity… provided you agree to my terms. think of it as an invitation.”

ratio takes a moment to mull over your words. to think that someone under the ipc has read multiple of his works, and has enjoyed them… is that why you are willing to compromise? but, well… you give him a feeling of a learned person. perhaps he will enjoy debating you.

“very well, that is good enough.” he nods, even if he still feels just a little bit disappointed, he’s anticipating a good back-and-forth with you already. “in that case…”

“i will let you know when i am free.” you sit down next to aventurine and let the critters on his lap crawl over to you and knead your thigh with their little paws. “and, doctor?”

it’s apparent to you that ratio has the same thought as you did when you decided to let your serpents drop their disguises at home. you glance towards aventurine next to you, then back at the doctor.

“thanks for the critters.”

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Mayer: *motioning to Jack, Race, Mush, Blink, and Crutchie standing in the doorway to their tenement* Are those friends of yours, David?

Davey: Kind of? Not really. They’re in my life and there’s nothing I can do about it

[raplinesmoon]

Right Person, Wrong Place (KSJ x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Seokjin x afab!reader

genres/au/rating: fluff, smut, some angst, road trip!au, friends2lovers, 18+

summary: This wedding was supposed to be a chance to celebrate love - even if your own for your best friend remains hidden. But what happens when there's a runaway groom, sending you and Seokjin on a journey together through the South of France? Will your feelings stay on the backburner, or will they all come spilling out?

word count: 697 for the teaser

warnings (teaser only): swearing, tension between friends (oooh what could be the reason), mentions cigarettes, shady getaway car

a/n: happy Seokjin day!! no one is more miserable than I that this is all I have to present for it, but maybe this is the kick in the butt I need to finish this damn thing. This was all inspired by Seokjin's Vogue shoot, but elements of this have been in my head for years! I hope you enjoy the teaser, and hopefully the full fic comes soon hehe! also thank you to @aaagustd for the gorgeous banner!

“What do you mean, ran away?”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose, holding back the exasperated sigh caught in his throat. If he let it out, he’d never hear the end of it.

“I mean gone. Lickety-split. Road Runner style.”

“This isn’t funny, Seokjin!”

Your voice comes out in a hiss, and if it weren’t for the way your face is absolutely redder than a tomato right now, Seokjin thinks that you might have looked beautiful, the butter yellow of your silk dress shining against your sun kissed skin.

But he’d never say it out loud of course. He’d lost that right a long time ago.

“Oh god, we’re fucked, absolutely fucked! What am I supposed to tell Minju?”

Seokjin understands your dilemma – what exactly does a maid of honor say to her best friend to tell them that her fiancé has mysteriously disappeared three days before the wedding? It doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it as “I do.”

Heels clacking against the cold marble of the villa, you storm to the open balcony, and Seokjin’s heart seizes in fear – you were right, what the hell were you supposed to do?

He’s by your side in minutes, his tux-clad figure leaning against the railing next to you. He wants to reach out, hold your hand and tell you it’ll be okay. But he remains stiff as a board, the two of you lost to your thoughts in the faint breeze of the seaside.

An idea lights up inside his mind – an absolutely insane one, but maybe if you could tolerate being around him for more than five minutes, it just might work.

At its best, it was a gamble, playing his odds for the faint chance that this wouldn’t blow up in his face. At its worst, it could mean the end of everything when it came to you.

Seokjin huffs out a breath into the cold air, and makes his decision.

“Do you trust me ___?”

This couldn’t have been it.

Staring down the old, white panel minivan, you raise an eyebrow at Seokjin, trying to stifle your giggle.

“Your grand plan, I see–” 

The tips of his ears turn red, and you watch him mutter to himself.

“Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that shady rental place when they said they said they had a Renault available…”

You think it's endearing the way he’s lost in his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. But then again, you’ve always thought so.

“A car is a car, Jin. We have more important things to worry about.”

“I know,” he rubs at the back of his neck. “I just wanted you to get the full south of France experience, and this soccer mom monstrosity is so not it.”

Sighing, he lifts your carry-on with ease, loading it into the trunk before opening the door for you. 

Slipping inside, you wrinkle your nose at the smell of stale cigarettes and — was that bleach? There’s an ugly brown stain on your seat and you’re not sure where it came from, only that you wish it was three days later, and all of this was somehow behind you. Minji would be married, and you would stay far, far away from Kim Seokjin.

Away from the bad decisions you always seemed to make when he was around.

“Where to captain?” His signature smirk is back, face lighting up as he wrestles with the steering wheel that seems locked into place.

“I don’t know, he could be anywhere. Let’s just hope he didn’t make it to Italy. Or Monaco.”

You drum your fingers anxiously against your thigh. How many villages were in between Nice and Cannes? How long would you have to look?

As if he can sense your anxiety, Seokjin’s hand comes down to rest on yours, your face shooting up in surprise.

“We’ll find him, I promise. And we’ll be standing up there at the altar with our two best friends, this whole wedding will go off without a hitch, and we’ll have the time of our lives. I promise you that.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

But the past said differently.

a/n pt. 2:  As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[fanfoolishness]

Kiss meme:

Lucanis x Rook 26

Harding x Rook 38

I did already write one for Harding x Rook for running out of time, which is here! But I hope you enjoy this extremely fluffy Lucanis x Rook for a kiss as an apology. Set directly after the dessert scene.

-

“You don’t have to walk me back to my room, you know,” Rook said, her voice rich and amused. “It isn’t far.”

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Lucanis countered, smiling as they entered the Lighthouse together. He felt as if he couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been delighted with the churros he’d made her, and even better, she’d understood what he’d really meant by them. A few crumbs of cinnamon still dusted the corners of her lips. He was seized by a sudden desire to wipe them away.

Rook makes you feel safe, Spite observed. The demon had been easier to understand since the strange trip to the shadow-Ossuary. Rook’s doing, most likely. Makes you lighter. Touch her? Keep her!

Lucanis swallowed. There was little he’d like to do more. But ah, he was being greedy… she had already told him tonight that what he did was enough. That he was enough. The memory warmed him, bolstered him in the quiet chill of the Lighthouse. It was always so still here when the others were asleep. He wondered if Rook could hear his heartbeat.

“Lucanis?” Rook asked, pausing at the foot of the stairs. She leaned against the banister, giving him a curious look, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Is Spite there?”

“You noticed,” he said, stopping one step up. “Forgive me. He chatters about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she chuckled.

Rook likes us! Tell her. Show her!

I did! With the churros! Lucanis thought irritably. And she likes me.

I didn’t see. Chasing wisps. Tell her again!

“Still there?” Rook asked, her expression of amusement fading to faint concern. Lucanis shook his head, coming back to himself as if coming up for air.

“He is… insistent.” And perhaps not wrong. He took a small step closer to her, narrowing the distance between them.

“About what?”

“That I be honest,” Lucanis said, and before he could back away or think better of it, he leaned forward, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

He should have closed his eyes last, he realized belatedly. His nose bumped into hers, and his attempt left his lips askew, catching just the edge of her mouth. He tasted crumbs of sweet cinnamon sugar.

Then her hand was on his cheek, and she adjusted their position until her lips moved against his, warm and soft, a hint of her open mouth and tongue leaving his legs unsteady and his chest blooming with fire. She pulled away, her eyes bright, her nose and cheeks slightly pink. Was she blushing?

He took a deep, shaky breath. ”I am sorry,” he said.

Rook raised her eyebrows so high they nearly vanished. “For what? Lucanis, that was—” She grinned, giggling. “Very enjoyable.”

“For not doing it earlier,” Lucanis said, exhaling. “I wanted to. But I hadn’t — I did not know if —“ He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say about that day in the pantry. He’d known what he wanted then, but couldn’t say it, couldn’t go through with it. But things were different now.

She did make him feel safe.

He smiled back at her. “Never mind. I hope you do not mind my clumsiness. I am new at this.”

She resumed climbing the stairs, and he walked along beside her. “Well, don’t you worry about that,” she said, leaning over and nudging his shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs. “You’ve mastered assassination and cooking. I have a feeling you can master anything you put your mind to. And if you need me to help you practice, um — I’d be happy to help.” She was definitely blushing.

He felt his own cheeks warm in response. “I am looking forward to, ah, training with you.”

“Stop it,” she chuckled. “You’re terrible.”

“I’ve been told this, yes.”

They stopped in front of the hallway to Rook’s room, and she gave him a fond look. “I suppose I’d better get some rest. I do feel sleepy after that feast you made us.” She reached out, squeezing his arm gently, her touch electric in the best way. “See you tomorrow, Lucanis. Get some rest, will you? Both of you. For me?”

Lucanis laughed. A direct request from Rook? That would be enough for Spite. He could sense Spite’s glee in the back of his mind. Or was it his own? It was hard to tell right now.

“I will do my best,” he promised. He tipped his head to her in a small nod and headed back down the stairs, his hand jittery on the banister, the taste of cinnamon on his tongue.

He would certainly try to get some rest. No more coffee tonight, which would help. But this new joy flaring within him, bright and fierce and soaring, might make sleep elusive for a little while longer.

He didn’t mind a bit.

[insidekatmind]

The Unexpected Encounter- Trent Arnold x reader feat.Jude Bellingham

London was a mosaic of lights and memories that hit you like a punch in the gut every time you walked its streets. This time, though, the city felt different. Maybe because you were back with Jude Bellingham, the guy who had managed to pick up the pieces of your heart after your breakup with Trent Arnold.

Years had passed since the last time you saw Trent. Your story had been intense but crumbled under the weight of expectations and the different paths your lives had taken. Jude, with his sweetness and unconditional support, had become your safe haven.

Jude had been called up to play in the Euros with England, and the two of you decided to arrive a few days earlier to enjoy some time together.

---

It was a quiet evening, and Jude insisted on taking you to an elegant restaurant in central London.

"You can't come to London without trying this place," he said with a smile, his soft accent making your heart melt.

As you entered, your eyes landed on a group of people at the bar. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized that familiar figure: Trent. He was there with a few teammates, laughing and chatting as if nothing had changed.

"Are you okay?" Jude asked, noticing your sudden silence.

"He's here," you murmured, trying to stay calm.

Jude followed your gaze and understood immediately. "Trent," he said, his tone neutral but with a hint of surprise.

Before you could respond, Trent looked up and saw you. His eyes met yours for a moment that felt like an eternity. Then his gaze shifted to Jude.

Later, while Jude went to the bathroom, Trent seized the chance to approach your table.

"I didn’t think you’d come back to London," he said, his voice deeper than you remembered.

"Neither did I," you replied, trying to sound indifferent.

"And now you're with Jude?" he asked, his intense gaze making you uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we've been together for a while," you answered, trying to keep your composure.

Trent shook his head, a bitter half-smile on his face. "It's ironic, isn’t it? One of my best friends."

"I didn’t plan any of this, Trent. It just happened," you replied firmly.

"It always just happens, doesn’t it?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But did you ever think about how complicated this would be?"

"Is something wrong?" Jude's voice interrupted the conversation, and you turned to see him approaching. His gaze shifted between you and Trent, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Nothing important," Trent replied, though his tone betrayed irritation.

"If it’s not important, then maybe it’s better to let us finish our dinner," Jude said, his tone calm but firm.

Trent stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding. "Enjoy London," he said, directing the words to you with a look that seemed to hold everything he couldn’t say aloud.

---

Later that evening, back at the hotel, Jude sat on the bed and looked at you intently.

"So?" he asked.

"So what?" you tried to buy time, knowing exactly where he was going.

"How do you feel after seeing him again?"

You sighed, sitting down next to him. "It’s not easy. It never was with him."

"I’m sorry if I put you in a tough spot," Jude said, taking your hand.

"It’s not your fault. I love you, Jude. Trent is part of the past. You’re my present, and I want you to be my future."

Jude smiled, pulling you closer. "And I want to be all that for you. But if there’s anything you want to tell me about him, we can talk about it."

You shook your head, looking into his eyes. "There’s nothing to say. It’s over with him. With you, it’s everything."

Jude kissed you softly, and in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice.

[sanakimohara]

I saw the ddlg for channie and Hyunjin……was wondering if you could do one for Binnie and Lee Know 🥺 my bias and bias wrecker.

[ DDLG ] S. C. + L. M.

pairings: changbin + minho x fem! reader

summary: DDLG (Daddy Dom / Little) Dynamic things.

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + SMUT + DDLG + DADDY KINK

type: semi-plot / headcannons

a/n: I’m actaully so tired rn but I couldn’t go another day without fulfilling this request! Hope you like it, love!

Dom Changbin loves to watch you talk -about anything. You could talk his ear off all day, and he’d nod while randomly planting kisses on your lips and cheek to see you pout and try to swat him away. “Daddy, please…listen to me…it’s important!” You whine and gently slap his shoulders to make your point, and he’ll raise his hands in defeat. “Alright, baby. I’ll stop. Go on…keep talking to me..” Changbin smiles, eyes slowly lowering from your brightened ones to trail your body as he relaxes with you, still happily bouncing his lap, rambling about whatever’s on your mind! He’s halfway listening, nodding, and humming when you spout rhetorical questions, but he’s watching your lips and nothing else. How soft they are. Counting how many times you unconsciously lick them while talking. Imagining how warm they'll feel wrapped around his cock only a few moments after you run out of things to tell him. Sure, he's listening to you, but that doesn't mean he can't get hard to the sound of your voice and the thought of eventually shutting you up…

Dom Changbin handles you like his own personal doll. He picks you up just for the fun of it, always ready for cuddling to have complete and undisputed access to grope you, whether it's running a hand through your hair when you’re nestled between his legs, playing on his phone or kneading your hips while you lay beside him. You feel his hands on you quite often, a mindless reach under your skirts, a swift but steady knead of your breasts in both his hands when no one’s looking. Changbin adores the feel of you, how you melt into him and cling to him like he’s your favorite teddy bear…it fuels his sense of strength and mild ego. Want to lay on top of him? Go for it. Want him to pick you up or husk you over his shoulder? Just ask. Changbin will do it with a knowing smile, proud that you trust so much and aren't afraid to suffer a little taunting in the process. “Sweet thing…can’t even handle yourself when I’m not around, can you?..” You shake your head. ‘No,’ face a light red, feeling his hands massageyour waist and backside as he carries you down the hall to his room. Your legs lock tighter around his waist, urging a grunt from him as the bulge in his sweats presses flush against your cotton-covered pelvis.

Dom Changbin isn’t particularly into leaving noticeable marks on you. He sees no point in making your life harder by leaving hickeys on your neck that'll be covered with makeup later. Instead, you are reminded of his hold on you with slow, deliberate, and sometimes sloppy kisses when no one is looking. “Come here,” Changbin mutters when you pass by him, bringing you around a corner and backing you into a wall so you have no way out. “Thought I told you to come see me first,” his eyes searched your face, warm but narrowed as you mumbled out an excuse. “I know, but …I was in a rush.” You momentarily look away, affirming you are alone with him before saying anything else. “I have to go-“‘you start, shifting to slip away from him but abruptly pressed back into the wall by his broad chest and heavy kiss to your parted lips. Changbin is careful with you, swallowing every little noise you let out as your mouth submits to his. Your tongue falls into a pace to mirror his own, lazily lapping at the wet muscle as it searches past your lips. He smiles the minute you start to drool, your hands scrambling to cup his face as you try to hold still against him. The messier you get, the more he kisses you, hands seizing your hips, lowering to shamelessly cup handfuls of your ass before he lands one solid slap against it as a warning. “Binnie!” You groan quietly, squirming in his hold, mind numb from the suffocating kisses and his relentless touches. Changbin exhales a laugh, lips damp with your shared spit as he trails them across your skin to stop at your ear. “When I tell you to do something, do it, baby.” “M-mhm…” You nod ina stupor, still trying to catch your breath while savoring his taste on your tongue.

Dom Changbin loves it when you leave your lipstick prints on him -especially on his biceps, chest, and face. Paint him like a canvas in every shade of lip tint you have, and he’ll happily let you do it. “One more, right…there....” Changbin breathes out between soft groans, head lulling back as you press another kiss to his thick shaft. You smile, hearing him falling apart, happy to be making him feel so good just by placing little lipstick prints from his face down to the base of his cock. “Feel good, Daddy?..” you mutter, eyes bright and wandering over him as he nods slowly, “Feels better than good…babydoll.” He grunts, jaw tight, and an arm raised to cover his flushed face as you giggle and dive back in to press your plump lips on every sensitive nerve he has. Changbin would walk around with your pretty lipstick prints all over him if he could. Once, he did forget to wipe away a mark you left on his neck, and while he was working out, Chan happened to spot it with a knowing smirk on his face. “She does that to you often, Bin?” He tips his head to the evident lipstick smudge, and Changbin smiles, making no move to wipe it off as he sets up for another set of deadlifts, “More often than you think..”

Dom Changbin doesn’t entirely realize how thick he is. You find it a little more than cute that he gets so caught up in wanting to be inside you he forgets to ease his cock in or risk startling you. No matter how often you remind him to “be a little gentle..” Changbin lets those words fly over his head when your cunt is glistening and creaming right in front of him. You try your very best to slow him down, making an effort to pace him and help you adjust to the girth of his shaft as your cunt strains to take all of him at once, “B-Bin..nie!…Hah! Mngh…ah slo-“ you tumble over words, nails digging hard into his shoulders, legs shaking as he presses them closer to your chest with his weight. “Fu…fuck please baby…take a little more for me,” he moans above you, gaze floating between your blissful expressions and the sight of your wet folds parting to accommodate the last few inches of his cock before he fully settles into your pulsing core. A familiar slick sound of him bottoming out in you fills the room, numbing your senses from the pleasure that follows and bringing a dazed smile to your face, “Always s’rough..” you whine playfully, not meaning a word you say, getting lost in the steady strokes his cock engraves into you. Changbin stares down at you, forehead pressed to yours, voice muffling your rising moans while he fucks you into complacency, “You know I can't help it…not my fault you're always so tight for me too…”

Dom Minho takes care of you in the most minor ways. Ordering your food when you go out because, let’s face it, he knows you’ll be indecisive and need him to do it for you anyway. There are moments when he watches over you, checking your surroundings to ensure you’re alright, and quickly moves you closer to him if that changes. He’s particularly fond of setting rules he knows you’ll break without thinking. Minho is keenly aware you curse when overwhelmed, startled, or generally immersed in frustration, so he gives you a boundary bound to be broken. “What was that, baby?” He speaks to you from the hallway, catching you off guard from his oncoming presence. Now, it wasn’t your fault that your charger had gone missing for the second time that day, but you were guilty of hissing out “fuck my life” while searching the living room for it. Little did you know Minho had it, not needing it but accomplishing his goal of annoying you to a point. Your face paled as you turned to face him, glad to be halfway across the room in the midst of being caught red-handed. Minho eyed you from his spot, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He heard you. That much was evident, and though you wanted to act as if he hadn’t, his direct stare weakened your tongue. “What’d I tell you about swearing?..” Minho rests his head against the wall, counting the seconds it takes for your face to flush and your head to lower. Five. Only five seconds into being caught, and you’re cowering from him. Minho loves it, hiding his smile as he pushes off the wall, crossing the room in three strides before reaching out to get a hold of you. An immediate apology flies past your lips, feeling his hands trail over the sides of your hips and waist. “It was an accident!” You whine and try to step away but have no room to when he shoves you to sit on the couch with a solid push against your hips. “Accidentally or not, sweetheart…You broke a rule.” His face is stoic, but his pleasure in cornering you is evident, and you swallow hard in response. “But I-“ you start, but he cuts you short in a heartbeat, “Turn around. On your hands and knees…then I'll hear what you have to say..” You know the last part of his statement is a lie, doing as he asks and bracing yourself to have a pattern of his handprints left across your ass. “This is for your own good…” he sighs, lips curled into a smirk as you tremble from the warmth of his right hand smoothing over your backside before it is replaced with a sudden surge of stinging pain a second later. Breaking a few of his rules isn't always your intention, but god, don't you love it when he enforces them like this!

Dom Minho will edge you to the brink of near insanity, holding you still against him in a leisurely chokehold, daring you to close your legs while they shake from the ecstasy you feel as his free hand gently caresses your cunt. You can beg him all you want to, throw a fit, and struggle to try and get more friction, but Minho is never willing to compromise when it comes to toying with you. “Moremoremore give me more please..!” You ramble quietly in desperation, eyes shut tight, and breaths coming quicker, but his touch remains idle and controlled. “Why should I do that,” Minho hums, purposefully pressing the pad of his thumb against your swollen and wet clit hidden by the thin fabric. You groan loudly, jolting as he draws tight circles around the bundle of nerves for a second or so before he stops and cups his whole hand over your entrance. You can’t think straight with him teasing you, lace panties soaked past usefulness when he’d barely begun to touch you, and head emptying of any thought besides convincing him you deserved to cum. Minho is incredibly vain about his ability to make you beg, wanting to see you tear up for the simple pleasure of feeling his fingers sink into your cunt, and you’ll cry for him every time because it’s worth every moment of weakness to have him stuff your cunt full.

Dom Minho sleeps/spoons with you often. He’s particularly fond of having you curled up against him. Your back to his chest and your hands wrapped around the arm he tucks underneath your head. Minho is delicate when he cuddles you, peppering kisses along your ear, against your temple, and on your lips before he pecks your nose. “Daddy…that’s enough,” you whine tiredly, blushing when he smiles, his eyes fixed on you while his fingers gently run through the hair at the crown of your head. “It’s never enough for me…” he whispers, slipping his free hand past your hip to nestle underneath the hem of your shirt and lightly trace the warm skin there. You shiver and press back into his body, mewling quietly as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as if he hadn’t just showered with you. “My pretty girl…” he mumbled in a daze, reveling in the soft hum of agreement you let out in response.

Dom Minho likes to test his limits from time to time. He’ll make out with you for as long as he can until feeling your lips against his just won’t do anymore. Past the point of patience and satisfied with the amount of time he's spent exploring your mouth with his tongue, Minho pushes your head straight down to his crotch when he can't take it anymore. Making you leave sloppy kisses and tender kicks wherever you please but refusing to let you fully taste him right away. “There you go, baby…. just like….that…mmm…” he groans and buffs with every pass of your lips, and you soak up his praise like a greedy sponge. Seeing Minho so flustered from simply smothering you with kisses is one thing. Still, the abundance of serotonin you get watching his expressions shift from pregnant to pure satisfaction when your bent over, face down in his crotch, and given no choice but to let him grind his clothed cock against your eager mouth is another thing. Minho won’t stop until you’re whining to feel him shoving his throbbing cock past your drooly lips, pouting when he hesitates to give in, biting his lip at the sight of your salvia coating the fabric of his pants. “C’mon, Daddy, just for a little bit…” you beg, planting a ginger kiss on the noticeable rise in his jeans, kitten licking the tip of his cock when it twitches from the subtle feeling. That’s all it takes for Minho not to stop you from lowering the zipper with your teeth after he gives you a curt nod of approval.

a/n: had an idea for best friends dad perv Chan but idk how yall would feel about that….

other links: n/a yet..

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This is like the only and best edit I could find of these two fruit loops being mildly platonically hot in one clip without actually looking like they’re on the verge of making out for the camera so please accept it 😭 Credits to creator 🖤