#the snake man is so unpredictable

[halfhissandwich]

this is a snek. /ref

[yanderecrazysie]

A Dragon's Hoard Part 1 (Yandere! Malleus)

Title: A Dragon’s Hoard (Part 1)

Pairings: Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Reader

AU: My Fantasy AU

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Notes: Malleus's story was voted for first! (BY A LOT) So here you go!

Part 2: here

Mt. Diasomnia’s peak pierced the night sky, cutting the full moon in half. As intimidating as the impossibly tall mountain was, it symbolized hope for you. There were plenty of caves to hide in and a surrounding forest for hunting.

If any place would hide you from King Riddle’s court, it would be this mountain. After all the rules you had broken, the king of the fae would surely clip your wings permanently if you were found. You were a hunted woman so the sooner you disappeared the better.

You spread your transparent wings and took flight. The wind was strong tonight, lifting you higher and higher. The freedom of flying was intoxicating and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget the weight of your circumstances.

But then the memory of King Riddle’s cold stare cut through your mind, as sharp as a blade. “Rulebreaker”, he had called you in such a cold voice. You might as well be a traitor to your kind.

The mountain loomed over you as you scanned it for any sign of shelter. A sudden gust of wind caught you and threw you off course for a moment. You gasped as you realized it wasn’t the elevation making the air unpredictable, but magic.

Your wings faltered- you knew this feeling. This was ancient magic, the same used in the time of The Great Ones. Something powerful was stirring inside this mountain. Still, there was no turning back. This was your only hope.

You spotted a wide, dark mouth of a cave yawning above a set of cliffs. You folded your wings and descended towards it. As soon as you set foot inside, a series of chills ran down your spine. It was cold and the air was strangely still. You could hear the sound of dripping water and took that as a good sign.

A faint green glow, barely visible at first, pulsed from the darkness deep within the cave. Something’s here… But anything was better than the fae court finding you, so you pressed on despite the fear rising slowly within you.

You stopped walking suddenly, your heart stopping altogether. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, two glowing, emerald eyes locked on you, piercing through the darkness and causing an otherworldly glow.

“You trespass upon my mountain,” the figure’s deep voice rumbled like thunder.

He stepped into full view and you gasped. He was much taller than you, draped in dark robes, with black horns that rose from his head like a crown.

A dragon in humanoid form!

You couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t breathe. 

A knowing smile curled on his lips, “What have we here? A little fae, wandering into my domain?”

You opened your mouth to speak- to apologize maybe- but no words came out. He began to close the distance between you.

“Tell me,” he said as he drew close, “What brings a rulebreaker to my mountain?”

You flinched like you’d been slapped, “How did you-”

“I know many things,” he hummed.

You stumbled backwards, trying to get away from his approaching form, your wings twitching as if you were about to take flight. But for some reason, you couldn’t move.

He raised a hand and a ribbon of green magic slithered towards you, curling around your wrist like a snake. “You don’t need to be afraid. I will not harm you. On the contrary…” his voice was like silk, “I offer you my protection.”

“Protection?” Stunned, you stopped trying to back away.

“Yes,” he stepped closer until you were forced to look up, “In exchange for something small.”

“What is it?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Companionship.”

You tilted your head in confusion, staring at the mysterious man. Companionship? Is he serious?

“You are hunted, are you not?” he asked, “King Riddle’s court will find you eventually. Unless, of course, you accept my offer.”

You hesitated, looking down at your hand, which was encircled with green magic, “What is this for, then?”

“Proof of our agreement,” he replied, “If you agree, I will mark your wrist with the symbol of a promise.”

“I…” This mysterious stranger had ancient magic, perhaps the only thing that would keep you from being taken in to King Riddle and losing your wings. If companionship was all you had to offer… “I agree.”

There was a sudden pain on the back of your hand and you cried out in pain. The green magic tendril retracted and a strange green symbol was left glowing faintly on the back of your hand. It reminded you faintly of a dragon.

“It is done,” he said simply, “You are now under my protection. None shall harm you.”

“And what does this companionship… entail?” you asked.

A faint smile tugged on his lips, “It is simple- you stay with me, here on Mt. Diasomnia. You speak with me on a daily basis and you do not leave without my consent.”

Your wings fluttered instinctively at the last part, but you nodded. It was a fair trade- if anything, you were getting the better end of the deal.

“You may call me Malleus,” he said, inclining his head, “I am the Dragon Prince.”

“I’m…” Giving your name to someone with such powerful magic was dangerous, but you couldn’t hide it forever, “(Y/n).”

“A fine name,” Malleus said. He gestured deeper in the cave, “Come. I will show you to your quarters. You must be tired from your flight.”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the cave’s entrance. It was almost as dark as the inside of the cave. What was waiting for you, if you were to change your mind? Endless rules? The promise of clipped wings?

With a deep breath, you turned away and followed Malleus deeper into the cave. Somehow, the cave grew warmer the deeper you went. Green crystals jutted out of the walls, casting magical light over the two of you and vibrating your wings with energy.

“This is my sanctuary,” Malleus told you, “Few have set foot here. Consider it an honor.”

The cave opened into a massive chamber with stone walls lined with shelves. Ancient artifacts gleamed under the green light, most of which you’d never seen before. But what was truly amazing was the hoard. Piles of golden coins and gemstones reached towards the ceiling. Silver cups and golden crowns and all sorts of treasure littered the area around a huge, golden throne.

A smaller alcove off to the side held a simple white bed. “That will be your space,” Malleus said, “You will find it comfortable.”

“Thanks…” you said softly. You looked back at the gold towers and watched them shimmer in the green light.

“All dragons have a hoard, little one,” Malleus said. Something about the way he said it made you shiver. His tone softened as he continued, “Sleep now, I won’t keep you from your rest. We will speak more in the morning.”

You hesitated for a long moment, watching him return to his throne, before finally retreating to the alcove. The bed was indeed comfy and, overwhelmed by the day’s events, you fell asleep quickly.

Even with the pain on the back of your hand.

[nervousd]

The Redemption of Earl Nottingham

#SYNPOSIS . Unable to stand your husband any longer you decide to flee from him

#WARNING(S) . Controlling husband, possessiveness, character death, arranged marriage, violence, brief description of blood.

#CHARACTER(S) . Earl Nottingham

How did it end up like this?

Being confined to your own chambers like a child while your husband belittled you for entertaining the advances of men. You were innnocent and yet your husband believed the words of others. As a woman of virtue and a married one at that— it appalled you that your husband would dare think of you as a harlot. At the end of your argument you were left with a ghostly complexion and your husband seething in rage.

You cried and yelled for him to let you out or for anyone to release you. But there was no response, only the echoes of your own pleas bouncing off the walls. No one would help you, having no source of companionship— not that you had any before. Seeing as how your husband has refrained you from attending any social events. It was just you and the various amount of books stacked in their shelf. When your had ran out of tears only a simmering fury threatened to erupt underneath your skin. You had vowed there and than, to refuse and be kept as a prisoner. How dare he act like a husband! For years he had ignored your very precense in this manor and now he believes he has some say over you?

And so what if you did entertain that mans advances?! He was kind, handsome and an honorable man. How could you not? When your husband could barley hold a torch against him. And now— he dare to act in such a manner? You raged— oh how you raged. You had been treated unfairly your whole life you couldn't bare it any longer. You would leave this manor and forsake this accursed marriage. It was a scandalous decision— but not one you would think twice.

The soft tap on the door broke your sense of thoughts, creaking open revealing a maid holding a tray, “ I have brought you lunch, madam “ the maid announced, her voice was devoid of any warmth. Before the maid could offer the tray, you had pushed her aside. Startled, the maid stumbled back, bewildered by your act of aggression. You hurried past her without a word, leaving the maid standing in the corridor. Your footsteps echoed loudly against the polished floor— not that you cared. You were leaving this mansion and for good. Suddenly, your husband appeared at the end of the corridor where they connected with the stairs leading down towards the front door— towards freedom. His eyes were ablaze with anger as he intercepted your path.

Your husband— Ian Nottingham, stood tall and imposing. His dark disheveled hair fell slightly around his angular face, framing his green eyes with an ominous look. His scar traced a jagged path on his left cheek— a reminder of the battle he fought and the wounds that have left him scarred. In the years, you've been married to him not once did you fully look at him. He was a terrifying man— with unpredictable behavior; he would throw fits of anger that shook the manor whole. His brows were furrowed into creases, adding into the intensity of his gaze. His jaw was set in a firm line, betraying the conflict within him.

“What?” His voice rumbled with venom. “Do you find me even more repulsive up close? Hmm?” Fury twisted his face as he spat the words. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, causing you to cry out in pain from his rough handling. His imposing frame loomed over you, the flickering candles casting ominous shadows on his face. He was terrifying, “Is that why you were unfaithful? Was the baron so charming? Did that snake promise you eternal love?” he snarled, shaking your wrist violently.

With tears in your eyes, you shouted, “Think of it however you want!” You pulled at your wrist, struggling fiercely against his grip. His jaw locked, “No matter what you do to try to change this, dearest, you are still my wife in the eyes of both men and heaven, and I your husband “

It felt as if the world was shattering around you. Husband? How dare he call himself that? He had spent an eternity ignoring you—the same man who took you to the altar and made vows. “My husband? Do you really have the right to call yourself that? You never treated me as a wife! This marriage is over!”

Anger twisted his face into a contorted mask of rage, his green eyes flashing with a volatile mix of fury and jealousy. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed like it might shatter, and his nostrils flared as if struggling to contain a storm within. His brows drew together into a dark scowl, the muscles in his forehead bunching in a way that made his anger almost palpable. Every line in his face seemed to deepen with the intensity of his emotions, reflecting not just a burning anger but also a bitter, jealous hurt that cut deeper than any physical blow. The very air around him seemed to crackle with his overwhelming sense of fury and resentment.

“Did you truly love him?” he demanded, his voice cold and harsh. It felt like speaking to a wall; his rage was the only thing driving him now. His grip on your wrist tightened to the point of pain, and you could feel the bruising pressure already forming, “ Ow! Let go!” you cried out, struggling against his unyielding hold, “ You cannot escape me! Even in death you shall not leave! Even if this cursed manor collapsed around us!”

Straining to free yourself from his iron grip, you felt a deepening frustration with each desperate tug. “Why are you doing this to me?!” you demanded, your voice breaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “What did I ever do to you?!” The resentment in your voice was palpable, each word a testament to the pain and bewilderment of feeling so unjustly targeted. You managed to break free from his grasp, quickly gathering the sides of your dress in your hands as you hurried away. Glancing back over your shoulder, you shouted, “I refuse to stay here any longer! I can’t spend the rest of my life trapped here like a ghost!”

“You can’t keep me her—!” you yelled, but as you rushed down, your foot had slipped on the edge of the stairs. Instantly, the world tilted as you lost your balance. A cold dread filled your chest as time seemed to stretch, and you felt yourself falling. Each step hit with a jarring thud, and the sharp, unforgiving edges of the stairs seemed to blur together. Finally, you crashed onto the floor below with a heavy thump, pain radiating through your body. The force of the impact left you gasping for breath, your vision momentarily darkening as you lay sprawled, disoriented and bruised. The room seemed to spin around you as you tried to regain your senses, each breath coming in ragged gasps.

A warm trickle of blood began to flow underneath your sprawled hair, staining the floor beneath you. The room swam around you as you lay sprawled, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the sharp pain, and you struggled to catch your breath, the darkness closing in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you saw, was your husband crying out in anguish. Sobbing uncontrollably, hands clutching his face, eyes wide and frantic as he called your name over and over.

A smile crept across your lips.

You suppose you can find some solace in that—if your life, given in exchange for freedom, caused even a single moment of despair for him. That’s enough to ease your soul.

[probablyintensemuses]

BED CHEM- A. ARETAS

🎧- Bed Chem: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: After a game of 'Never Have I Ever,' you ask Armando for a simple favor. He complies in the best of ways.

warnings: so much smut, cursing, drinking

a/n: It's Kinktober, I hope you enjoy this. Sluts.

"Alright,' Kelly takes another swig of her beer, calling everyone's attention towards you. "Your turn, sweetheart, never have I ever."

You chuckle, throwing back another shot of amber liquid, rejoicing in its burn on the way down. You took in the living space of Mikes mansion, how all the colors began to mix and swirl, the room titling about half as much as your stomach.

Still, with flushed brown skin, you poured yourself another shot. "Hit me," You hiccupped.

“Never have I ever...’ Kelly slurs, tapping her manicured finger against her chin. She points at you, spitting out, “fucked a man in my car.”

You laugh, picking up your shot glass and throwing it back, shivering at the warmth it brings you.

Kelly squeals and claps. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t go all the way with that guy from the bar last week!”

You hiccup, throwing a fist full of popcorn at her. “Hush!" You shush her.

Waving to the guys--Mike, Marcus, Dorn, and Armando sat on the sofa--who were better equipped at handling their liquor than both you and Kelly, you say, "They'll find out. I don't need Mike disappointed in me."

Mike stands while chuckling, he walks towards you and like a magician playing a trick on a child, he distracts you with one hand patting your shoulder and swipes your shot with the other.

"Hey!" You whine, stumbling to get up.

“I think that’s enough of that.” Mike tosses it into the sink, rinsing it down the drain.

You groan, falling back onto the stack of pillows on the ground, Kelly following suit.

The world spins in slow circles above you and your stomach was spinning.

"Truthfully,"

"Hm?" Kelly hums.

"I've never fucked anyone before."

Kelly shoots up, wide brown eyes boring into your own amber ones, and the room goes deathly silent.

It takes a beat, but eventually Marcus cracks the quiet wide open.

“What do you mean you’ve never fucked anyone?”

“Yeah,’ Mike adds. “If Marcus is getting laid, you damn sure shouldn't be having any problems.

Marcus slaps Mikes chest, earning a laugh out of everyone.

You wave your hand in dismissal. "I'm content with the state of my virginity." You shrug, throwing some popcorn into your mouth while wishing it was a greasy burger.

Dorn scoots close to you, wrapping his heavy arm around your shoulder. "Is it a religious reason, because if it is, I totally understand."

You laugh. "It's not. I just never got there with anyone...I guess."

"I guess?" Mike sucks his teeth. "Girl, when I was your age I was getting all types of action."

You let out a loud groan and roll your eyes as Mikes goes on and on about his never ending playboy era.

"You ain't got to remind us that you were a bad boy, Mike. The proofs right here." Mike says, pointing to Armando.

You look over, watching Armando take another sip of his beer.

You knew Armando was Mikes son, yet no matter how close you felt to Mike, his son was just a part of him you couldn't feel piece together.

Apart of you felt fearful of his rather unpredictable nature, while another part of you, not so deep down, felt hypnotized by him, his demeanor, his attitude, not to mention his face and body. it was all enough to make your core pool with a feeling that could only be declared as one thing--desire.

Pulled into another trance, your eyes cut over and meet Armando's. They are the deepest, hypnotic shade of chocolate brown, hung low and dark. You presume, like everyone else, he too was drunk.

You swallow, taking him in, how his muscular arms wrap around the back of the couch like a snake, only enhanced by the black, fitted top he was wearing. How his thick thighs were spread in front of you, giving you full access to his package.

If you were to ever fuck a man, Armando was the type you'd want. A man who was gruff with an eclipse of something kind. A man who could no doubt pick you up, pull em' down, and turn you around.

You hadn't even realized you were practically salivating until Kelly's voice washes over you, cleansing your dirty thoughts away.

"You ready to go?" She says, you hadn't noticed everyone start to clean up, and apparently Armando hadn't either, his silky gaze still lingering on you.

"Oh,' you flush. "I think I better stay behind. I'm supposed to be helping Christine with a friends party tomorrow, anyhow." You say, pushing to stand.

"Alright then,' Kelly extends her arms for a hug. "We'll talk later, okay."

You pat her back, taking in her cherry scent. "Okay, get home safe everyone!"

Everyone says there goodbyes.

"I'm heading up for the night." Mike announces. "Goodnight!"

You dip down to pick up the last of the trash. "Goodnight."

Hands full of garbage you turn, jumping when you see Armando hasn't moved.

You clutch your chest. "Jesus. How long have you been--I thought you went upstairs already."

Armando places his beer down on the marble coffee table. "Wasn't done drinking."

You nod, avoiding his hot gaze. "Well enjoy." You breath, tossing the trash into the garbage. Quickly, you b-line towards the staircase.

"Lo haré."

You pause, hand on the stair railing. "What?"

He chuckles, pushing to stand. You suck in a breath taking in his godly figure as he walks over, the wetness from earlier resurfacing again.

At the staircase, Armando crowds your space, your back to his front. You wouldn't dare face him right now, you were drunk and loose, who knows what you were capable of if you turned around.

Your breath comes in and out in hitches as he swipes your hair to one side of your neck. The heat radiating from him becomes blistering as he leans down, plump lips barely grazing your ear when he whispers, "Disfruté tu historia."

You gasp, craning your neck to the side only to see, like a snake, Armando had already slithered past you with a smirk on his face.

"Have a goodnight." The way he called your name had you melting like butter.

You slide down until your bottom touches the cold steps, hoping it will shew away any nasty feelings you have for your bosses very, very hot son.

Unfortunately, it did nothing. Instead, you pull out your phone googling everything Armando had just said to you. And even though it was only two things, it was enough to carry you upstairs and into a very, gushy sleep.

---

Thunder crashes against your window, jolting you from your sleep.

Your tired blurry eyes look over at the night stand.

It's 3 am.

You've been out cold for at least three hours, the dryness of your throat being a definite tell-tell.

You throw the thick, lavender comforter off yourself, swinging your feet into your house shoes.

You toss on you glasses and sneak out of your room, trying your best to be as quiet as possible as you sneak down to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, you fill up your water bottle and quickly head back to the room Christine had assigned you to sleep in for the night.

Thankfully it had an ensuite, because you'd definitely have to pee after all this water you were going to chug.

Taking a swig of your water, movement in the corner of your room captures your attention.

You lower your water bottle, fastening the top and setting it aside. You know your vision is bad, but not this bad.

You shrug it off, kicking off your night shoes.

Another string of thunder, paired with a loud shriek of lighting barrels down on the house, illuminating the corner in which you had just thought you'd seen something.

With the bright light of lightening striking twice, there was no mistake. There was someone there.

But not just anyone. Armando.

You gasps, immediately throwing your arms up and not knowing where to cover first: your exposed cold, hardening nipples or the rounds of your ass exposed in your sleep shorts.

You choose the former, your nipples only straining more against the fabric of your tee shirt the closer Armando gets.

"What are you doing here?" You manage.

You continue to drink him in the closer he gets, his golden skin and abs on full display as he dawns nothing but a pair of grey sweats.

"I heard you get up." He says, his voice gruff with sleep.

"So you followed me?"

Armando shrugs. "¿Eso no está permitido?"

"I don't know what you're saying." You sigh, holding back the moans in your throat at just the scent of him.

Armando steps forward again, the force of his presence pushing you to sit down. "I think you do."

"I--I don't." You sputter.

Armando sucks his teeth, hooking his index finger under your chin. Your eyes lift and meet his.

This angle, you several inches below him, has you pressing your thighs together, keeping the desperate monster who wants to swallow the man before you whole at bay.

"Then I'll help you,' Armando's thumb strokes your chin. "What you said earlier, was that true?"

"What I said earl--," Your eyes narrow than widen.

You swallow. "You mean about?"

Armando chuckles. "Yes, about you not fucking anyone yet."

You squirm, feeling your heat begin to pool again. Your core must be draining all the liquids from your throat because find it hard to reply.

"I'll take that as a yes." Armando plays with the ends of your hair.

You aren't sure if somehow you'd been struck by lighting, but sudden surge of confidence shakes over you.

You stand, still several inches shorter than him. "Is there something you wanted to do about it, Armando?"

He hisses, throwing his head back. "Do you want me to do something about it?" His warm fingers trail your neckline.

You shiver, closing your eyes and pushing into his touch.

Only if you promise to come right on me.

"¿qué?"

Your eyes snap open. "I meant camaraderie, as long as you promise camaraderie."

Armando growls, taking your face in his hands once more. "No you didn't." He says in one breath before taking yours away.

You shudder against him. Then, his palms wrap around the nape of your neck, turning the kiss scolding and fierce. His mouth open and hot.

Armando pulls you in closer by your hips, a surge builds between you, a shared exchange of demand a desire as your mouths rummage, searching for that peak together.

There's a groan, movement, and then you're airborne, Armando's rough hands digging into your back.

You're not sure where Armando takes you until you tear yourself from him entirely, panting as you catch your breath.

"Why'd we come in here?" You question, looking around his room.

"Your rooms too close to Mikes." He says, grappling for you and pulling you close.

"What does that mean?" You question. It doesn't fully register for you until you sink down and straddle his clothed member.

Oh. Oh.

Even strained against two layers of clothes, you could tell Armando was going to be huge issue.

"That was probably best." You pant, grabbing his face and kissing him once more.

Armando pulls at the hem of your shirt, in between kisses he whispers, "Take this off.:"

You're hesitant and don't comply because no matter how hot and needy you are, this is still new to you.

Taking a beat, you pull back. "Maybe we shouldn't."

Armando sits up. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" You shake your head. "You're great, it's just...I'm a little nervous."

"We don't have to, I'm sorr--."

You stop him, grabbing his hand. "Don't apologize."

You take a deep breath, shaking off all the doubts allowing yourself to just seep in what the pleasure is and how it could morph.

You were here, in this blistering moment, with Armando. Going further than you ever had with any other man.

That shows that there’s something there, an underlying current that’s got you both pooling with desire for one another after a few drunken glances and intoxicated words.

Maybe it something that couldn’t be put into words, like chemistry.

Bed chem.

Whatever it was, it had you swallowing your fears, trudging past them.

You sit up straighter, locking eyes with predator in front of you. Your heart skips beats like a rabbit just looking into his eyes.

"I want to." You breath.

Armando nods, shifting. He slowly presses you into the mattress, the warmth of his gaze and comforters engulfing you. Yet, you can't help but shiver as he pulls down your sleep shorts, allowing his warm breath to blow over your exposed thighs.

You whimper.

It was finally happening and you were ready to drink in every moment of it.

Armando trails light kisses on the inside of both your thighs. The light touches make you gasp and shiver.

He trails his lips, slick as a cat, towards your heat, placing breathy kisses onto your clit.

You flank, gripping either side of the bed, relishing in every suck, swirl, and spit Armando gives your pussy.

The attention to detail on this man was unwinding you like a doll, so much so, you could feel your climax ramping up.

It starts deep within your core, and with every painting Armando makes with his tongue against your soaking heat, the more you primely unravel.

"Necesito que vengas por mí." Armando groaned, plunging to thick fingers inside of you.

None of his words register with you, all you know is that this mans pleasure is unfurling you and you just want to reach its peak.

Armando pumps faster, you grip his hair and pull him in, smothering him within your walls.

"Fuck, yes!" You moan, arching your back and exposing your hardening nipples to the ceiling. "I'm so close." You cry out.

"Cum for me baby," Armando whimpers.

Like you've been compelled, you do as he says, spilling out on to his beard in a symphony of moans and twitches.

"Shit." You catch your breath. "That was amazing."

Armando licks his swollen lips, his eyes dimmed with desire.

"Tienes un sabor aún mejor del que imaginaba." He groans.

"What does that mean?" You question.

Armando grabs your ankles, yanking you until you're under him.

"I'll show you," He says, smothering you into a kiss, allowing you to taste the sweet-saltiness of your vagina.

"I need more of a demonstration." You say between kisses.

"your wish." Armando pulls off your top, groaning at the sight of your full breast and eager nipples.

He doesn't hesitate to latch his lips onto them, giving them a good suck.

"Fuck." You moan, lowering your hand down to his crotch.

Armando grabs your hand, stopping you from touching further. “No. Not today.” He urges, moving your hands, one by one, up by your head and holding them there.

He continues his delicious assault on your nipples, you never knew your pussy could be this wet with pure want.

Armando unlatches himself, he comes up to face you, hovering above you.

He looks gorgeous in the light. Warm hues of the bedside lamp blend with the crystal moons glow, showing off his dark, sharp features.

You touch his face, trailing your index finger from his sideburns down his jaw and under his chin.

“When?” You say, breathless. “When did you realize you wanted me?”

Armando dips down, placing a slow, firm kiss on your lips. “Since I first saw you.” He admits.

You quiver.

“Are you sure about this?” Armando questions, peeling off his pants, leaving him in nothing but a tight pair of underwear.

You hiss at the sight of his print. “I’m sure.” You swallow.

Armando nods.

You reach up, and together, you peel off the final layer between the both of you.

Instantly, his cock springs to life.

You’ve seen many cocks online, all of them impressive in their own right, but Armando’s was something glorious.

He was large, thick, and veiny, the tip slick with pre-cum. If you had to guess his entire cock was anywhere between eight to eight and a half inches of glorious man.

He couldn’t be more perfect.

You were prepared to take all of it.

Armando moans snap you back to reality.

You Watch eagerly as he jerks himself off a bit. “Should we use a condom?”

You shake your head no. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, princesa.” He hisses, positioning himself atop of you.

Armando gives you one last glance of worry, you bite your lip and watch it melt off his face and burst into something new as he sweeps the tip of his cock against your soaking wet entrance.

You let out a light moan, spreading yourself wider in anticipation for his massive member.

Armando complies, pushing into you slowly, letting you savor ever inch of him.

You had heard the horror stories of girls loosing their virginities. How bloody it would be, how much pain would be involved. So much so that it turned you off from sex for a long time.

That and your parents forcing a pure moral on you created an adult who didn’t know when she’d first get a taste of something so sweet.

But now that you’re here, you could confirm one thing: they were all wrong.

As Armando bottoms you out, his cock buried deep within you, you feel nothing but pleasure.

“Are you okay?” Armando asks.

You moan out, “yes,” giving Armando just what he needs to keep moving.

What begins as slow strokes changes into something much brighter as Armando grips your hips and begins to dig into you.

The room fills with echoes of skin colliding and the sounds of moans.

Your breast bounce on your chest as Armando continues to rails you, hitting spots you never knew was possible.

You squirm, feeling another orgasm building inside of you, it was coming at you like a freight train with no sight of slowing down.

Armando grips your hips, hoisting you up and turning you around.

He pushes your head down and you find your self arched—face down ass up.

He lets out a breathy moan as he slips back inside of you, pounding recklessly into your soaking wet pussy from behind.

“Joder, nena, necesito correrme dentro si tú.” Armando moans.

The language doesn’t seep into you, but by the way his groans are slowing turning into whimpers and how his cock is twitching inside of you, you can tell Armando is close to.

Your walls clench around his cock, milking him, as you orgasm builds closer.

“Fuck,” you moan out. “I’m about to cum.”

“Me too!” Armando groans, slamming into you harder then before.

A few more reckless pumps in and out of your tight little pussy and your spilling all over his cock in shouts and moans. Armando isn’t too far behind you, his twitching cock emptying inside of your warm heat.

“maldita mami.” Armando takes a deep breath, wiping the slick sweat off his forehead.

You twist, out of breath and shaking, falling flat onto your back against the bed.

You watch as Armando heads over to the en suite.

He comes back quickly with a two towels.

Sitting beside you he uses the smaller, damp towel to clean up the mess spilling out of you.

You shiver at his touch as he wraps the large towel around your shoulders.

Taking the opportunity, you kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

Armando smirks. “Anytime, bebé.”

Without warning, Armando scoops you up in his strong arms. He carries you bridal style, walking you over to the shower.

“Now, let’s get you all cleaned up.” He says, kissing your cheek.

You smile into the crook of his neck, wondering just how you were going to tell Kelly that you and Armando Aretas have fucking fantastic bed chem.

[widow-tarot]

MINI PAC READING: What Would They Tell You If They Could? (Romance)

GROUPS: 1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6

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Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. Just to remind you, this is only for entertainment purposes.

If you don't feel drawn to any group, then this reading is not for you.

GROUP 1

Cards: Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands rx, Wheel of Fortune rx, I Like You, Girl Talk rx, Pond, Archangel Metatron.

I like you. I know it's straightforward, but I cannot say it in any other way that's more meaningful or more direct. It might not sound meaningful but it is to me (I hope it is to you too). I feel there is a spiritual connection between us and it seems no matter what, we keep coming back to each other. Our connection is like a pond; can be insignificant to others but to us, it holds so much life and secrets but it can easily be destroyed if not cultivated. We are so hot and cold; we like each other, then we hate each other over something trivial (we both don't know what exactly annoyed us). I want to move towards you but things are holding me back. There's so much I want to do and say but I'm standing still. I know we will truly come together someday. No one knows about it because I don't share those feelings with friends. It seems too private and sacred.

SONGS:

Eric by Mitski ("Take off my clothes and watch me move; You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me; But how long, how long can we play this way?; I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you"

Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey ("Ours a love I held tightly; Feeling the rapture grow; Like a flame burning brightly; But when she left; Gone was the glow")

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex ("Whispered something in your ear; It was a perverted thing to say; But I said it anyway; Made you smile and look away; Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby; As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine")

GROUP 2

Cards: 9 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Noose rx, Mushrooms, The Snake, Hammer rx, Seraphim Seraphisa rx.

You will forever be in my heart and mind, but we can never be together in the way we want. There are way too many blockages and I do think we are not fit to be in a relationship. I am in a committed relationship (or you are) and I do not wish to leave her for I love her. Maybe I am a coward, but I am a practical and cautious one. I will not take reckless actions just to wake up one day and regret it. I think what we have is a fantasy, pleasant make-believe, daydreaming. However, I don't want you gone because you're an important person to me. I wish you happiness but I can't follow you.

SONGS:

Lonesome Love by Mitski ("I call you, to see you again; So I can win, and this can finally end")

Blue Banisters by Lana Del Rey ("She said, "You can't be a muse and be happy, too; You can't blacken the pages with Russian poetry and be happy"; And that scared me; 'Cause I met a man who said he'd come back every May;Just to help me if I'd paint; Now when weather turns to May; All my sisters come to paint")

Flash by Cigarettes After Sex ("I'm a flash; You were blinded by the love I had; I'm a flash; The light could only get in through the cracks")

GROUP 3

Cards: The Hierophant rx, 8 of Wands, The Devil, 10 of Swords rx, Wildflowers, Mirror, Keys on a Ring, Archangel Raphael.

You are the temptation, the chaos in my life, the wildflowers that can still be growing but can also be already taken by someone else while I wasn't looking. You're untouchable, unable to be caught, translucent. One minute you're here only to leave seconds later just to come back and stay for a long time. You're unpredictable, a sin worth sinning for. But I hate to be alone and you make me sad. I love to see you but I hate myself when you leave. I don't know if you have any feelings for me; is it something serious or is it just casual and convenient? I can't do this anymore, I'm trapped and I feel miserable. I wish I could tell you to stay away, to abandon me, to never come back. It would be easier for me to move on then but I am a fool for you. I wish I was strong enough to talk things through but I'd rather have some of you than none of you. Then again, being with you hurts me so what should I do?

SONGS:

Should've Been Me by Mitski ("Relive all the ways you still want me; I haven't given you what you need; You wanted me but couldn't reach me; I'm sorry it should've been me"

Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey ("I will love you till the end of time; I would wait a million years; Promise you'll remember that you're mine; Baby, can you see through the tears?; You went out every night; And, baby, that's alright; But when you walked out that door; A piece of me died")

Ambien Slide by Cigarettes After Sex ("Take my love with some pretend; You said you couldn't help it; Had everything that you wanted; When my love was something yours; But now you're feeling helpless")

GROUP 4

Cards: Death, Page of Pentacles rx, The Chariot rx, Archangel Sammael, Eileen Chang rx, Boat rx, Engagement Ring rx.

I don't want to try to fix this thing between us anymore, it's a fool's errand. We tried and it didn't work, it's time to move on to something else because we are just wasting our time and I'm exhausted. Let me go. Let me leave, peacefully. I don't want to fight but I'm frustrated. I think we tried to escape the inevitable but at the end of the road, we cannot pretend any longer. Relieve me of this burden and don't resent me.

SONGS:

Working For The Knife by Mitski ("I always thought the choice was mine; And I was right, but I just chose wrong")

Bel Air by Lana Del Rey ("Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate; Trying to tell me to wait; But I can't wait to see you; So I run, like I'm mad, to heaven's door; I don't wanna be bad; I won't cheat you no more")

Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex ("We wanted to fuck with real love; Wanted it sweet, so pure and warm; And when you say you want it all, I know you want it all; Baby, take it all from me; I always will make it feel like you were the last one; So get in the waves like it was the first time")

GROUP 5

Cards: The Star rx, 7 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords rx, Glove rx, The Phoenix, Paradise rx, Archangel Haniel.

I wish we could start anew, without any bitter history between us that holds us back and clouds our judgment. We cannot fully be together while all these thoughts are troubling us, making us suspicious of each other and insecure. I know we both lost hope for this connection, yet we are still going and proceeding with it in any way we can. We don't want this to be over but we need to find a solution. I want you in my life and I'm willing to put work into it. Are you? Someone needs to make the first step though and it's the most difficult thing to do. We cannot stay still for much longer though. We communicate telepathically but we also have to communicate in real life.

SONGS:

First Love/Late Spring by Mitski ("Please hurry leave me; I can't breathe; Please don't say you love me; One word from you and I would; Jump off of this ledge I'm on; Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in")

Video Games by Lana Del Rey ("It's you, it's you, it's all for you; Everything I do; I tell you all the time; Heaven is a place on earth with you; Tell me all the things you wanna do; It's better than I ever even knew; They say that the world was built for two; Only worth living if somebody is loving you")

Goodbye Mr Blue by Father John Misty (" But maybe if he'd gone sooner; Could've brought us back together last June; When the last time was our last time; If only then I knew; The last time was our last time; Would've told you that the last time comes too soon")

GROUP 6

Cards: Page of Swords rx, 9 of Cups rx, 4 of Swords, Sappho, Archangel Chamuel, Cupid's Arrow rx, Separation rx.

Do you love me? You say you do why does your love cause so much pain? Why am I in agony instead of being elated and happy? Is this how you show your love? I feel neglected and manipulated. I feel ignored and mocked. Am I your partner or your pet? Do you even care what I want? Do you care what I have to say? You treat me as a child as if I cannot think or decide for myself. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think so lowly of me? When you're not here, I don't miss you and my mind is at ease. I lost all hope for anything to change. It hurts even more because I love you, but your love is weird and dysfunctional. I feel trapped. I even stopped speaking my mind because it was met with ridicule and anger.

SONGS:

Wife by Mitski ("For if I am not yours, what am I?; I daydream I'd give one a name of my own; For even I am on loan; For even mine is unknown; So let me go towards the morning star; With hope it won't disappear;)

Carmen by Lana Del Rey ("Baby's all dressed up, with nowhere to go; That's the little story of the girl you know; Relyin' on the kindness of strangers; Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem; Lyin' to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf; It's alarmin', honestly, how charmin' she can be; Foolin' everyone, tellin' 'em she's havin' fun")

Hot by Cigarettes After Sex ("Is it all in my head? 'Cause I keep getting scared; That I'll always be lost forever; But I don't give a shit if I'm too delicate; When you hold me, it's always better")

[cutelittlechiroptera]

Emerald eyes

Yandere Sakamaki Laito x reader

Laito is definitely one of my favourites. My requests are open<3

Masterlist

Warnings: obsession, manipulation, imprisonment, Laito is kinda terrifying (?)

Word count: 750

The living room was dark save from a few rays of pale moonlight that basket the furniture in a cold glow. It was empty and it felt haunted by past memories of lives you could never hope to fully understand. The antique sofa you were seated on was soft to the touch and rather comfortable. A soft dark green fleece blanket was draped over you in a cozy fashion that seemed foreign in the manor.

You let out a sigh as you let yourself sink further into the sofa in hopes of it swallowing you whole like the monster in the fairytale books you were so found of as a child. The trees swayed in the night wind and cast shadows over the walls. Phantom hands reached for you and you pressed your eyes shut in order to calm your nerves.

You could feel his presence before you either heard or saw him. The shadowy hands stilled in the movements and it was as if the moon herself held her breath. You could feel his eyes boring into you as he picked your souls apart and peered into it invasively. Cold sweet coated your temples as your throat coiled together like a frightened snake. The real snake was however the man who stood in the doorway.

Soft footsteps sounded against the dark hardwood floors accompanied by a sweet hum that sounded like a call from the devil himself. Your heartbeat quickened as it fought against your ribs in order to escape.

He stopped on the back of the sofa, just out of your sight. His hummed continued to fill the air.

When you were brought to the mansion and had been forced to pick one of the vampires that resided within its four walls, you thought you had been wise and chosen the safest option. You thought he had been better than the lazy male chauvinist, the sadist who enjoyed to preform experiments on unwilling subjects, the hotheaded jock who thought everything was a competition, the maniac who’s emotions was unpredictable and the one with anger issues and pent up frustration. You had thought that the persevere nonchalant man was the best option. You soon had come to regret your decision as he subjected you to the worst thing you could possibly encounter in that damned mansion. That being his undying love.

You had been quickly swayed by his heartfelt compliments and honeyed manipulation. When you realised his feelings ran as deep as the deepest pits of hell, it was way too late. You were within his claws and he would never ever let you go. You had tried to escape him, but it had been futile. It was no exaggeration to call him the smartest of the Sakamaki brothers. His intelligence was truly frightening and you would soon learn that even his brothers feared his mind.

A cold hand rested on your shoulders in a clear warning on not to do anything stupid. You swallowed as his cold fingers caressed your skin gently. Soft lips pressed against the crown of your head in a gentle kiss.

“Are you sitting here all by yourself in the dark?” his sweet voice filled your ears as he leaned down by your ear. You still couldn’t see him, but you didn’t need to to know that he had a knowing smirk plastered on his handsome features.

Words died on your tongue as you raked your mind in order to come with a fitting answer. Laito chuckled at your silence. “I suppose I should at least join you. That’s the least thing our future husband can do.”

The sofa dipped as he took a seat besides you. His thigh resting against yours as if he was afraid you would disappear if he moved away. His green eyes found yours and you were once again struck by his beauty. Despite how much you feared him, your heart couldn’t help but ache at his beauty and loving gaze. You often wondered if he had you under a spell, but you knew better.

A pale hand gently brushed away a strand of your hair as the red head let his eyes take in your very feature. He leaned in and breathed in the scent of your neck before he moved and placed a soft kiss to your cheek. This action stirred more terror in you than anything else possible could. This little action was a solid prof of his undying love and your inability of escaping him.

[minimomoe]

Believe Me

another song association. this time No One Noticed by The Marias

Toji stood on your front porch with heavy steps. From the looks of it, the house was completely quiet with all the windows devoid of light. It should be, given that it was 1 in the morning. He winced when he checked the time on his phone. You were going chew him out for this. You had every right to. He promised to come home earlier, even went as far as telling you to get all dolled up so that he could take you out and your eyes glittered at the instructions. There was no way you wouldn't be pissed off by his change of plans.

Toji fitted his copy of the key that you gave him into the locks quietly turned the handles. He toed off his shoes and silently padded through the house in search of you. What he didn't expect was for you to be sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around your body, scrolling through your phone with disdain.

"Fucking hell," he started. You had startled the large man. Not enough to make him jump out of his skin but he was sure you'd be sleeping by now. You were usually knocked out once the clock hit 10pm.

"Look who finally decided to show up," you muttered. You didn't even spare him a glance. Swipe, swipe, swipe is all you did with your fingers. Toji carefully treaded to where you sat at. His feet touched something on the ground, and when his eyes adjusted he the black heels that he loved to see decorating your feet on the floor. You were going to wear them out tonight.

"Is your phone broken?"

Toji should answer carefully. If he lied it wouldn't help him, but if he told the truth it would only make you more upset. He got down on one knee, resting his hand on your blanket covered thigh in hopes of warming up to you but you shrugged him off. He sighed.

"No. It isn't."

You sniffled, refusing to look at him. "Right. You told me to get ready, then didn't answer your phone for hours, just to show up here at the dead of night. I went through all seven stages of grief for nothing. Thanks."

"Something came up."

"Something came up," you echoed. Even with the faint glow of your phone illuminating your face, Toji could see the tears start to well up in your lashes. "Must've been important."

Silence stretched for miles between the two of you. Toji could see your walls building up, shutting him out, and he felt a tinge of panic in his chest. He knew he put you through a lot, but that's part of the reason why he loved you. He felt like you understood him better than others. You didn't pry, you didn't have some unrealistic expectation of him; you took him as he was. You loved him. But it seems like even you had your limits.

"Listen, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Toji," you sighed. You swung your legs out from under you and stood up from the couch. The blanket pooled around your feet on the floor, revealing a new dress he hasn't seen before. It was beautiful, hugging your curves and showed off the top of your cleavage. Toji mentally kicked himself once again. "It was my fault, really. I got excited. Too excited. I know how unpredictable your schedule is. I should've expected it."

You sounded defeated. You wanted to walk past him but Toji wouldn't let you. He latched onto your wrist, silently begging you not to go.

"I'm really tired, Toji. So fucking tired," you whispered.

Toji took your by the waist, pulling you closer to his body and you tried to protest. You stiffened your hands on his biceps, wanting to keep the space between your bodies but he wouldn't let you. Toji couldn't afford to give you space right now. Not when you sounded like you wanted to pull away from everything.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he promised. As if his promises were any good. Your gaze was elsewhere- to the side of him, on the floor, past his head. Anywhere but his eyes.

"I should've called you." His lips found your cheek, kissing away the single tear that trailed down your skin. His hands snaked tighter around your frame, encasing you, trapping you in his affection.

"I' fucked up, okay? Look at me." Consoling you for a mistake he made was hard enough. The sincerity and vulnerability that came with being in a relationship is something that Toji had to dig deep to find. It was hundreds of feet below his tough exterior that he has meticulously built and hardened over the years, but he would chip it away to give you his heart. If you were still willing to put up with all of his bullshit.

"Look at me," he said again. Ordering you to... pleading for you to. When you spare him a glance he felt his chest open up. Your lashes clumped together in spikes as you blinked up at him with a look stained with apprehension.

"You think I'm easy," you muttered.

"Stop putting words in my mouth," he said. Toji cupped your chin and tilted your head up. You resisted it stubbornly at first, but he would stay there for as long as it took. When you tipped your head up to him, he kissed the corner of his mouth with all the softness he could muster up. So tenderly he wasn't even sure he touched your skin but you sighed. The tension in your body melted ever so slightly.

"What do I gotta do to make it up to you?" Another kiss on the other side of your mouth. Firmer, needier. He resisted the urge to take your lips fully, but even the corner of your mouth made him ache for you.

You stopped pushing him away. That was a good sign. There was a chance. "I don't know," you mumbled. "I don't know."

"Come on, ma. Tell me what you want."

You looked like you were deciding just how serious Toji was this time. He didn't deserve your patience but you gave it to him anyways. "I want to spend time with you, Toji. And I don't always want it to be after the sunsets but before the sun rises. It's like I'm in a relationship with a ghost. You're holding me now but then you'll leave without a trace." You avereted your eyes. Toji was plunged back in darkness. "I'm getting tired of it all."

"You want me to leave?"

It was unfair of him to push it back on you, he knew that, but he has never played fair in his life. Toji would do whatever you wanted him to... as long as you didn't really want him to leave you. He doesn't think he could at this point. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until you spoke again.

"No. No I don't," you said quietly. You bit your bottom lip and nestled your cheek into his hand. "I miss you so fucking much but you're just gonna do this shit again."

"I'll work something out," he whispered on your lips. You still wanted him. He was selfish, he was greedy, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, clutching the fabric on his chest as you got swept up in his advances. You had on that lip gloss that he always found amusing, the one that left his lips cool and tingling. He drank you in, leaving no way for you to shy away. He needed you, and for reasons he couldn't understand, you still wanted him too.

"Give me another chance, yeah? You won't regret it."

You had no reason to believe him. You should've kicked him out the second you had the strength to, but you were weak to his advances. Toji knew that, and he used it to his benefit. He kissed your jaw, neck and shoulder. You were obsessed with each other leaving was never going to be easy.

"One last chance."

"That's all I'm asking for."

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[bullet-prooflove]

Welcome Back: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Taggin: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19 @angelofthetrenchcoats

Companion piece to:

Box Breathing - Eddie's been struggling since Christopher left.

Always - You make a promise to Eddie.

Real - Eddie tells you he wants something real.

A Future With You - Eddie makes a realisation during a one on one game of basketball.

Cash - Eddie discovers your secret Instagram profile.

Snake - You receieve a surprise gift from your ex at Halloween.

Midnight - Eddie makes you a promise.

Cherry Lipstick - Eddie gets better insight into you during a social event.

The one person that isn’t at Eddie and Christopher’s ‘Welcome Back’ party is the one he wants to see the most.

“She’s on shift.” He’s told by Buck when he questions your whereabouts but there’s something else under the surface, something he knows the other man isn’t telling him.

The two of you haven’t had much contact since the night he broke things off, you’d reached out a couple of times to check in but Eddie’s responses had been monosyllabic. He didn’t want you waiting on him so he’d done what he thought was best at the time, withdraw so you could live your own life. Now he’s back in L.A and his attempts to reconnect have gone unanswered, he doesn’t blame you for that. He wouldn’t speak to him either.

“Did something happen that I don’t know about?” He asks Bobby when he runs into him in the kitchen. “Did something happen to her?”

“Eddie.” Bobby states calmly as he leans back against the counter. “Nothing happened to Selina, she’s fine.”

“Then why does it feel like everyone is walking on eggshells.” Eddie persists, pointing at the gathering of people in the other room. “Everytime I even mention her name, it’s like they want to talk about something else.”

Bobby sighs, gesturing to the chairs at the kitchen table. It’s a bad sign. He’s been on the receiving end of enough bad news to know when it’s coming.

“When you called me to tell me that you and Christopher were coming home, there wasn’t a space for you in the 118. We’d taken on Ravi a few months before because we were understaffed and that meant you would have had to come back to the LAFD on a floating position.” Bobby explains.

And that would have been a problem, they both know it. Floating staff can get dispatched to any firehouse at any time to cover a shift for any reason. They usually stay a couple of days before they move onto the next assignment. There’s no time to settle or get to know the people you’re working with, the shifts can be erratic due to sudden bouts of sickness. Most times you don’t even get a locker so you have to store your shit in your trunk. It’s a hard, thankless job, one he would have struggled with especially with Chris’s childcare.

“When Selina heard you were coming back she knew that you would struggle with the unpredictability of the role, that Chris would need both stability and routine so she offered to take the position instead, which then freed up a spot for you at the 118.”  

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. It’s just another sacrifice you’ve had to make because of him, another choice to smooth over the mess that is his life. You wanted him and Chris to be happy, to thrive back here in LA and the only way to do that was for them to become part of the 118 again, to have their family surrounding them, supporting them.

“Do you know where she’s on shift tonight?” He asks Bobby as he raises to his feet.

“I don’t.” Bobby says before he withdraws his phone from his back pocket and sets it on the kitchen table. “But I can find out.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - Thank you to those who enjoyed my last post! I'm really excited to bring you some spicy content as well >.> Enjoy <3

Words: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Explicit smut, body worship, cunnilingus, strong language, tending to wounds, blood, light mentions of domestic abuse, Vigilante!Reader

The devil's not supposed to have a heart. That's why these no-name, no-face, no-strings-attached flings had worked out. Somewhere along the way, he seems to have forgotten that.

Panting, half-bent at the waist against the pain radiating in your shoulder where the bullet had penetrated, you watched as the—understandably—terrified woman ran for her life back towards the city proper, leaving the pier behind with haste. A groan from below made you snarl, anger coiling in your injured body like a snake. A booted foot kicks out at the squirming man, and your attack silences his pathetic whimpering.

The sudden kick caused a sharp pain to flare through you, and you curse under your breath, stepping back away from the now-unconscious man, taking stock of the situation. A split lip, gunshot wound, and what was certainly a few bruised ribs were the least of your problems tonight, however. Oh, no, that would be the motorboat speeding off under the cover of night, and with it your intended target.

This was all wrong. So fucking wrong. You should have been faster. Smarter. Then maybe the bastard wouldn't have gotten away...

Kidnappings weren't a common occurrence in the Kitchen. Spriting away an entire person wasn't an easy feat with a population dense place like this. People heard things, saw things. Friends went to the cops when they felt something was wrong. Broken routines didn't go unnoticed. Sure, they still happened, but most petty criminals weren't brazen enough to try something so bold, day or night. Only the truly hardened, or those without anything to lose considered it at all. Even then there were so many factors that could go wrong during the attempt, most didn't take the risk.

Conrad Clausen had tried anyway.

A career dirtbag and misogynist of the highest order, the bastard had thus far successfully and consistently toed the line of legal technicality against his ex-girlfriend, McKenzie Grissom. Conrad, infuriatingly, made full use of his minor in criminal justice to make her life a living hell after she'd filed for a restraining order, finally fed up with the abuse. Civil suits and private investigators, exploiting services written in her name, and more. The poor woman couldn't catch a break.

The last straw was when she'd come to the Domestic Violence Resource Institute, straight into your protective jurisdiction, looking for help in the wake of his vindictive crusade. That hadn't sat well with him at all.

You should have seen the signs coming, the moment all of his manipulative tactics suddenly ceased for over a week. Should have known something was up. He wouldn't have given her up so easily. You hadn't thought he'd go so far as to enlist his best friend into the plot of kidnapping and doing who-knew-what to poor McKenzie, but here you were, standing over the dude in question. He'd even brought a gun, the very one responsible for your shoulder freely bleeding.

If only you'd managed to get Conrad himself, but he'd given you the slip. With no way of catching up to him, and no knowledge of where he'd hide away to plan his next move, you stood there above his friend's unconscious form, seething.

On paper, this was a success. McKenzie had been saved, and you'd managed to apprehend on of the kidnappers involved. But Conrad was smart and wicked and cunning, and now on the loose. A rabid dog off his chain and unpredictable in what he'd do next. He'd be more careful, more patient, the next time he tried to take her and oh...you knew for certain he would try again. Men like him wouldn't ever stop, no matter how many times it took to get it right.

In the end, you'd accomplished not much at all, and the tension in your shoulders and back felt suffocating.

You needed to move. You needed to do something. Anything.

Biting back the urge to scream, you stoop down and fish Conrad's friend's phone from his jeans pocket, dialing 911 with swift fingers. The Hudson River beside you brought with it a chilly breeze, as you waiting through that first ringing of the line. A woman's calm voice answered moments later.

"911, what's the address of your emergency?"

"There's been an attempted kidnapping at Pier 92. One of the men responsible is unconscious and will need medical attention. The other just got away in a motorboat. Send in some units." Is your reply in monotone, not waiting for her response before ending the call. You weren't worried about the report being ignored. Some precincts may be corrupt, but the 15th was alright in your books. They'd follow through.

Tossing the phone aside, you step over the man's body and roll back your shoulders, trying and failing to alleviate some of the tension that had settled there. Your dark suit chaffed despite being tailor-made to fit you perfectly. Months of sewing it yourself had meant it shouldn't be this uncomfortable, which only served to further set your nerves on end as you tromped through the darkness back towards your motorbike.

The last 10 minutes play back through your head in a spiraling loop. Picking apart your decisions, playing a depressing game of should've-would've-could've until self-loathing joined the anger and resentment that kept your muscle tight and high-strung.

Breathing labored and heavy, you make it to your bike, jamming the helmet on your head and starting up the engine with a rough twist of your wrist. It roars to life with a thunderous growl that echoes beneath the concrete pier caps overhanging above.

Knuckles white beneath your black gloves, tightly gripping the handles, you rocket forward in search of the next crime-in-progress. Hopefully Hell's Kitchen would deliver.

A quiet night was typically a good thing when it came to your nightly activities. It meant the city wasn't at war with the scum that coalesced in its dark corners. It meant peace and safety to those that lived there.

Tonight, though, you loathed the peace.

The door to your foxhole swung open with such force, you're surprised it hadn't fallen off its hinges. Barely giving it any attention, you stomp with a fury inside, hearing it slam shut behind you. The noise was good. Loud. Angry.

Down a set of stairs takes you to the relatively open space that had become your landing point at the end of your vigilante patrols—with the building mostly gutted it was difficult to tell what it had been before, maybe a spacious storage closet? Complete with a semi-comfortable cot and a few cupboards and shelves with storage for your medical kit and suit repair supplies, it was a home away from home that kept your identity safe from those who might have followed you. Despite the space, it still felt stifling amidst the chaos in your head.

There'd been nothing to help you release the tension from your failure that night. No muggers to beat within an inch of their life. No burglars unlucky enough to cross your path. Every alley way and street corner you could think to look had been confoundingly crime-free. Fucking nothing.

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you pace back and forth in the dingy yellow light from the standing lamp in the corner, chest rising and falling in pain and rage that built higher with each sharp ache in your ribs and the dried blood pulling away from the makeshift bandage on your shoulder. Careless. Slow. Useless. That's what you were. McKenzie was in more danger now than she had been before. Conrad would wait for a better time to strike, and next time you doubted you'd be so lucky as to be there when he did.

The mental image of the smarmy bastard getting what he wanted was your breaking point. A guttural yell spat past your lips, and your fist shot out to punch at the nearest wall with as much strength as you could muster.

The drywall caved into a hole with the force of the hit, and you were just lucky to have missed the stud behind it. Pain radiated from your knuckles immediately after, but at least it was something to focus on other than your tumultuous thoughts. In the moment, the violent impulse had felt good. You drew your hand back, half-tempted to repeat the action.

"What did the wall do to deserve that?"

Alertness raises the hairs on the back of your neck within a split second, but recognition follows just as quickly behind it. Closing your eyes, you somehow manage to resist the urge to punch your visitor. In all your anger, you hadn't noticed another presence in the room. Rookie mistake. Had it been someone looking to harm you, they'd have had every opportunity.

Drawing your hand back down to your side with measured calm, you turn your head just enough to spot the red-suited vigilante leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. The opaque, blood-red lenses of his mask somehow managed to exude a tempered curiosity, gaze directed a few feet to your left. His lips were upturned in the barest hint of a grin, posture relaxed and at ease, a stark contrast to the coiled tension of your own.

If he noticed or was put off by your visibly wrathful mood, he gave no indication.

Jaw set, you turn and walk with purpose to the row of shelves off to his left, unclipping your arsenal of equipment from around your waist and thigh holsters. They find their places with heavy clunks in the empty spaces.

"Why are you here?" Your question comes out dripping with malice, though you're not entirely sure if any of it was truly directed at him, or the shitty night you'd just endured. It took everything in you not to yell at him to get the hell out.

Instead of answer, his head tilts in that way it always did. Several seconds pass before a frown settles his mouth downwards. "You're injured."

"No shit." Another flash of annoyance, another clunk onto the shelf.

"I smell blood," he remarks, pushing away from the storage cupboards as he zeroed in on the front of your suit, "and gunpowder. You were shot?"

"I'll live." When he tries to come closer, you push past him to remove the exterior protective jacket of your suit, painfully shrugging it off and tossing it onto the cot that would be your sleeping arrangement for the night. No need to bring your anger home and risk your own apartment's walls.

A tight-fitting black shirt was underneath the outer jacket, and you waste no time in removing it, unbothered that the other vigilante was mere feet behind you. Nothing he hadn't seen before—minus your face, of course, the mask always stayed on—but you were growing restless with his presence there the longer he remained. You hadn't expected company.

The shirt joins your jacket, and you're left with your sports bra and the makeshift bandage you'd cobbled together at some point during the night. The cloth you'd torn and packed against the wound had stained a deep red, saturated, but at least it had done its job and stopped the blood flow. It would need to be replaced with something clean and proper, though. Removing it now would hurt like a son of a bitch, but you'd grit your teeth and bear it. It's what you always did.

"Let me help." The devil's smooth voice is closer than you'd expected behind you, but you shift away from his soft touch on your shoulder with a barely-restrained growl.

"Why are you here?" You ask again, tone demanding that you'd get an answer this time now that you're facing him directly. In reality, you knew why—there was only ever one reason he showed up here—you just wanted him to man up and say it. He needed release, and as the only other operating vigilante in the city, the only other person who could really understand what he took on when he donned the mask, you were the one he sought out.

No names, no faces, and no feelings involved. Just sex. A way to release all the pent up emotions of dealing with the worst that Hell's Kitchen had to offer. It was the only method that didn't involve hurting other people the two of you had found worked just as well. Sometimes there was no other way to really purge oneself of the rollercoaster of emotions that came with trying to protect this city—a city that, sometimes, felt like it hardly wanted the help.

Maybe his night had been just as shitty as yours. Maybe he hadn't gotten all the adrenaline out of his system from his last fight. Or maybe he just felt like a quick fuck. Whatever it was, this whole situation was very off-script to your typical encounters.

He hadn't reached out to you at any point during the night. And you certainly hadn't called for him to meet at your foxhole. Him showing up out of the blue was unusual. You would have suspected something wrong had brought him here, but the absence of his all-business and terse persona made that unlikely. Your penetrating stare was strong enough that you could almost envision burning a hole through his mask.

His silence was prolonged, so you tried again, stepping closer and encroaching on his space. He didn't move back. "Well?"

Another brief pause, and the devil's head dips down further. And despite still wearing the mask, you can't help but feel like he was looking right through it to look at the person beneath. "You needed me."

"I didn't call for you."

"You didn't have to." His matter-of-fact reply was laden with something...so wholly unlike the devil you knew. Dare you call it...gentle?

That was certainly not a word you'd ever have associated with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. All you can do is blink back, unsure of how to respond. Despite possessing heightened senses—the limits of which you were still uncertain of—you doubted he had a vigilante-in-distress sense kicking around in that brain of his.

Irritation swirled through the veins within you. His proximity itched at your nerves in so many ways. You wanted to shove him across the room. You wanted to scream your lungs out, punch and kick at the one person who could meet you on equal footing until your body gave out from exhaustion. Violence was second-nature, instinct as much as reflex.

Sex with Daredevil was a violence in its own right. Rough and unrestrained in ways that felt very much like the fights you threw yourself into against the bad guys on the streets. He'd give as good as he got. He'd meet your ferocity with that of his own, capable and willing to surpass it at times. Both of you, embodiments of wrath and rage, colliding.

You hadn't called him, but here he was. Might as well get some use out of him.

Violent intent morphed cleanly into physical need within the span of a few heartbeats. Lust born from seething anger simmered just beneath your skin, taking the tension that had settled in your limbs all night and turned it outwards, leaving you nearly shaking before him.

"So...you're here. You gonna take care of me, devil?" Is your coy question, one brow raising as you lean back against the cot pressed sideways to the wall, hands gripping the thin mattress to either side of you, nearly-naked chest on display for his eyes to gaze upon. It's almost embarrassing how much you trembled at just the anticipation of him manhandling all of your stress away.

The concern that had settled into his mouth lifted into something more amused, edged with cockiness. "I always do."

You expect him to erase all distance between you, claim your lips with his in a kiss as unforgiving as his sense of justice, shoving you back onto the cot. But to your surprised dismay, he gently pushes away from you and heads back to the cupboards. A deep frown marks your face, but logic hits a second later. Your wound. Ugh.

Your eyes track the way his body moves within his own red suit, leaning down to open the drawer with your medical supplies in it. Whether it was a lucky guess that he picked the exact drawer you kept it all in or if he somehow just fucking knew, you were too wound up to ask. But he's back in front of you only a moment later, setting the things he'd need beside you on the cot.

With barely a wince, you lower yourself down to sit on the edge of the cot, allowing the devil into the space between your legs as he knelt. A stirring deep down screamed to wrap them around his waist and draw him in where you'd rather he be occupying himself, but for now you behaved. Something told you if you didn't let him at least help with your injury, he'd leave you high and dry.

Ignoring the way you simmer in your own clouded lust, he reaches up to gently peel away the torn wrap now soaked in red. The blood that had previously dried and stuck to the edges of the wound now broke open with a sharp pain, and you bite into your lip against the feeling, focusing on evening your breathing through it.

Gloved fingers drift to your back, searching with a tenderness that shocks you.

"The bullet?" He asked, breaking the short silence. Setting the ruined rag aside, he soaked another with antiseptic.

Your voice comes out clipped and sharp. "Dug it out earlier."

He hums in understanding. You bit back a curse as he applied the material to your open wound, the sting raging its ugly head and gnashing its teeth. Hands that so efficiently bloodied the criminals of Hell's Kitchen were patient and steady on your skin, tending to you with that same gentleness he'd spoken with before. This was all so damn confusing.

Your eyes track across his mask in an effort to focus on something else. Past the red-glossed eyes and down to the stubbled jaw that was all you could see of the man underneath. You knew it would feel delightfully rough if you ran your fingers across it...

"What happened at the pier?" The question surprises you and when you stare at him in prolonged silence, because how in the hell could he have known where you'd been, he gives a little shrug. "Saltwater. I smell it on your suit."

You slowly shake your head, ignoring the subtle reminder that he could perceive so much more than you could and deciding to let him distract you from the pain of his ministrations with conversation. You didn't typically talk much during your moments together, but given the circumstances, you'd let it slide this time.

"Kidnapping, almost. Saved the girl, but the bastard got away."

"How?" He questioned, head cocked to the side, gaze still affixed to where he was tenderly cleaning the wound.

"Had an accomplice and a boat waiting. His friend kept me occupied while he made his escape. He popped off a lucky shot and I couldn't go after him once he was away from the pier."

"Tough night." The vigilante muses. "Who's the perp?"

"An asshat named Conrad Clausen. Head of an IT firm, knows his way around the law. Abusive ex. Controlling." Hands clench tightly in your lap. Just the sound of his name got your blood boiling further. You frown harshly, head shaking at your own incompetence. "I only made things worse, somehow. He'll come after her again."

"You'll track him down before that happens." The absolute certainty in his voice gave your pride enough of a spark to break through all the muddled self-loathing and lust that drove all of your thoughts right now. Even if you weren't so sure about your odds of nailing the dude before something could happen again, Daredevil's confidence in you wasn't unwelcome. "And if he's unlucky enough to cross my path before that, well...he'll wish he hadn't."

You couldn't count on both hands the number of unfortunate souls you'd stumbled upon after the devil had gotten to them. That was an understatement if you've ever heard one.

Unwilling to say anything more about it, you only hum, getting used to the stinging of the antiseptic just as he was satisfied it was cleaned to the best of his ability. Setting aside the rag, he dug through the kit again for the padded bandages. Peeling off the adhesive edges, he brought it to your shoulder, probing it gently around the wound.

Your heart thudded heavy in your chest, wishing that his gloves were off so you could feel the skin-on-skin contact. It took everything in you not to drag him forward by the neck of his suit and demand his attention in other, more sensitive places. The sudden grin that lit up his face drew your attention.

"Easy there. Your heart starts beating any faster and you might pass out."

You huff, appalled that he could indeed hear the damn thing pounding away like a drum in your chest. Because of course he could. Your glare could set fire to a building. "I've had a hell of a fucking night, and now you're taking your sweet ass time to patch me up."

"Why the rush?" He asks, tone clearly giving away his mirth.

"Careful, devil. I've got no patience for foreplay." Your words come out as a frustrated hiss, the first of your mental restraints beginning to fray. You'd been riled up for far too long, and your only potential outlet was kneeling there not touching you in the ways you wanted. Fists clenched into the thin cot mattress.

"Clearly." The venom in your words does nothing to put a damper on his smile.

With a few more gentle presses around the edges of the bandage, he pulls back to assess his handiwork. You're courteous enough to let him replace all the medical supplies back into the first aid kit before he stood and turned away to return it to its place in the cupboards.

Hungry eyes raked down the lines of his suit, taking in the way his pants really did wonders for his ass, and you felt the last of your dwindling patience crumble away. The devil sure knew how to be incredibly tempting.

Lifting up from the cot, the distance between you and him is a meager two steps. You traverse that in less time than a single draw of breath, grabbing his arm and turning him to shove him back against the cupboards.

He's still wearing that infernal little smile as he faces you, eyes hidden behind red lenses. "As your attending nurse, I'd suggest not moving that shoulder-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Shoving aside all pretense, you take hold of his suit collar and drag his mouth down to yours. It's crushing and needy, and had you been in a better headspace, you'd balk at just how strongly it screamed of desperation. But the clouds of unresolved failure, loathing, and rage that had settled on your soul seared a straight path through anything and everything else.

Sharp reflexes mean he's quick to reciprocate, though you can still feel the infuriating shape of amusement lift his mouth as he let you kiss him with nothing short of fury. One hand draws up to press at the back of his covered neck, wanting there to be no space between you.

Gloved hands settle at your uncovered waist, but pull you no closer than what your untamed lust already demanded. Too wound up to question why he wasn't meeting you with an equal ferocity, your tongue licks across his bottom lip with purpose, a request as much as a command. Without hesitation he lets you in, tangling his own with yours in a familiar dance.

He's intoxicating, you can't deny. Daredevil wielded an intensity that no other man had ever come close to matching. His attention, when directed at you, was full and overwhelming. A great wave of physical sensation that he let crash over you without apology. Some nights, it was all you could do to keep your head above water and survive the torrent. Others, his ocean storm met with a hurricane of your own making, and your foxhole was the no-mans-land where war waged under stale sheets and pale yellow lamp light.

Tonight, the tides were low, the waters strangely calm. In no mood for serene seas, you maintain your grip on his suit, dragging him backwards and away from the cupboards to be closer to your cot somewhere behind. You wanted it now, whatever he was going to give you.

Your calves hit the edge of the cot, but before your momentum can bring you tumbling backwards together, his hands tighten against your waist and hold you to him. His mouth unfortunately parts from yours.

"Why-?"

"I said I'd take care of you, so let me." His words are breathless and pleading, his masked forehead settling against your own. "Please?"

Confusion mars your expression as you stare into the red tint of his mask's eyes. This close, you could faintly see the dark eyes of the man beneath flicker back and forth with subtle movement. You'd never known this devil to be anything but full of vindictive rage. Righteous purpose, barely contained in the confines of a man. There was playful flirting on occasion, but nothing close to this...warm affection that you were now being confronted with.

Anger flaring, you found yourself nodding, but you'd get what you wanted. If you had to fight tooth and nail to get it, so be it.

"Say it." He urged.

"Fine. Take care of me." Your hands snake down his chest, ghosting over the hardened indentation of his cock from underneath his pants. He huffs a breath at the tease. "But don't make me wait for it."

Another grin splits his lips, before he reaches down and wraps his hands behind your thighs, lifting with an ease that stirs deep in your belly. Instead of your back being pressed to the wall like you expected, like you desperately hoped for, he instead fell carefully to his knees atop the cot, lowering you down onto the covers beneath. This new position slotted his hips directly against yours, that bulge you'd caressed before now flush against the heat of your cunt through layers of clothing.

You gasped, feeling the first true licks of sensation you'd been craving since he'd shown up. Lifting your hips up, seeking more, you're kept in place by the unrelenting strength of his own pressing down. Feeling the skin of his fingertips drift along your jawline—so focused on his body being pressed to yours, you hadn't noticed he'd taken the gloves off—you startle and snap attention back to what little of his face you can see.

Lips slightly parted, the gaze of his mask so centered onto your expressions, watching and observing with a tilted head, as if savoring the sight of you beneath him as his fingers dip down below your jaw and along the exposed skin of your neck. The mask dips, and you swallow as his fingers pass along the hollow at the base of your throat, then further down towards the sports bra still covering your breasts.

You're swift to lift up, hands reaching for your bra to discard, but the man is quicker, snatching your hands before you can touch the fabric and pressing them into the cot above your head.

"Devil-" You start to warn with a growl, electing not to finish the sentence as he slowly shakes his head.

Anticipation coils with your frustration, but at this point you're not sure which one is winning out. Still, you give a valiant effort in removing your wrists from beneath his grip, desperate to take what you want as fast as you can get it, but he doesn't relent. Completely at his mercy.

What he does offer, you take as if you're starving for it. The kiss he leans down to give you takes on that ravenous intensity as you engage again, but he keeps his pace slow and purposeful. And when you are just beginning to feel light-headed and in need of air, his lips slant down past your lips, over the curve of your chin, setting on a meandering path down where his fingers had trailed just moments before. The stubble on his face scratches with a pleasant sting.

The scrape of teeth along your throat earns him a low whine, a gasp following closely as he switched to the wicked, wet heat of his tongue. You feel the burning fire of each little circle he paints upon your skin, scorching you and simultaneously fanning the flames of need. Lower and lower it goes, finally reaching the top hem of your bra. Your skin practically hums in anticipation of the removal of the last barrier blocking that talented tongue of his from where you wished he'd put it to use.

But rather than remove the offending garment, he simply ghosts down over it to your stomach, continuing on as if there had been no interruption at all.

You keen a pathetic little noise, low in your throat, pushing again at the strong hand restraining your wrists. Still, he doesn't give.

"We have all night, sweetheart." It's barely more than a whisper against your abdomen, but still it sends a shiver down your spine. It's all you can do to ignore the way his term of endearment—he'd never called you that before—now ricocheted between your ears, stirring your belly further with each bounce.

His mouth traverses the last few inches of your belly, and despite all of the tension still coiling in your muscles, shoulders and back, there's this growing sense of peace radiating from your bones beneath. As if your body knew, given time, it would have what it wanted.

Wielding impatience as a weapon, you fought for faster gratification, wanting an immediate relief to your internal chaos. Daredevil's pace never quickened, savoring your skin in a way he'd never done before. Despite his determination never to kill, the bitter darkness that spouted from that mouth was really something. Who knew the same one could feel so soft against skin? Honestly, you were floored by the way you silently craved for him to take all the time he wanted to explore your body, lavishing it to his heart's content. No man had ever left you feeling this wanted.

Hands made for fighting traced your skin with softness, like it was delicate paper beneath his fingers. Hot breaths swept tingling waves of toe-curling want across the scar-littered canvas at his disposal. There was something like reverence in the way he caressed you.

And that scared you the most. This...thing between you and the vigilante, it wasn't supposed to be about feelings. The heart wasn't supposed to have anything to do with it. He'd been fine with that, and so had you, when it all began. This, though...this felt like something entirely more.

What changed? Why was he being like this tonight? He touched you as if he actually cared. As if this whole thing wasn't a transaction.

He touched you like a lover.

The shift in trajectory of his mouth is what finally forced you out of your own head and back to the present. His hand not holding down your wrists had been swirling gentle circles into your side, but now it slowly rose at the same pace of his tongue. And when he finally reached your bra on the way back up, his fingers dug beneath the band and lifted.

You squirmed in place, thankful that your breasts were free from their confines. You want nothing more than for his hand to take hold of the flesh and squeeze until the pain nearly edged against the pleasure, but his fingers drift no more than feather-light trails along the underside.

Arching your back and attempting to press yourself into his touch gets you no closer to your desires. He merely presses a soft kiss into the valley between your breasts. It becomes painfully obvious that to get what you wanted, you'd have to go at the vigilante's pace.

"Please..." You whimper, deciding you're not above begging if it helped to speed this process up in any way.

It earned you a low, male noise at the back of his throat, nearly reward enough. A half-hearted rut of his hips into yours made your eyes close in pleasure. Confirmation that he wanted this just as bad as you. Perhaps you'd push to see just how far his own patience would run...

Eyes shot back open, mouth parted in a moan as his tongue finally—finally—found its way to the peak of one breasts. Circling around the tight nub and sucking it into his mouth to taste in full. His hand rolled the other between two fingers, tugging and pinching whenever he felt like it. You writhed beneath his ministration, wanting more but having no way to grasp it.

There was no respite to his touch, endless and yet so ridiculously restrained. Like a meal to be savored, he took his time swirling the nub from various directions, tongue mindlessly circling in whatever way felt right.

And god, did it feel right, you thought through a haze of pleasure.

You think you hear him murmur something into your skin, but your own panting breaths muffled whatever it might have been. Given his unexpected intimacy tonight, you don't dare ask him to repeat it. When he doesn't seem to wait for a response, mouth switching to your other breast and giving it the same attention, you lack the attention span to give it further thought.

Another impulsive arch of your back has your clothed cunt brushing against the crotch of his pants, earning a stuttered groan from the devil. It must be torture, being so hard in that tight costume. He hardly acknowledges his own need, so focused on you. A throb pulses through you, deep to your very core.

Part of you wonders if he could hear the way your heat aches for him, or perhaps could smell the spike of arousal that accompanied it, because his fingers reach down to start undoing your own pants, shaking just enough for you to take note.

One-handed, it's a little difficult for him to accomplish—the plea for him to let you go is pointedly ignored—but with a little shimmy and lift of your hips, they're pulled down to your knees, exposing the wetness that begged for attention. Daredevil's sharp inhale and barely restrained growl is proof enough that his senses are going haywire with all of the intense stimulus.

You'd never wished so much in your life to be able to hear someone's heart beat. Was his just as fast as yours, pounding away at the sight of you laid bare?

Calloused hands glide with fascinated purpose across the exposed skin of your thigh. A glance at his mask confirms that he was focusing intently on your lower half, head tilted and gaze a little to the right of your center. Slowly, those fingers ascend closer to the apex, and you feel yourself holding your breath for their inevitable arrival.

The wait is agonizing, each second a torturous minute in your own mind. Your hips squirm, desperate and needy. Fuck, you just wanted it now.

Daredevil leans in close, lips brushing over yours in the chastest kiss you think you'd ever had.

"Breathe." Is his whispered reminder against your lips, panting lightly himself. All the while you can still feel his glove trailing your thigh absentmindedly. "Relax, sweetheart."

A stuttered pair of in- and exhales is all you can manage, body so strung up on the line that you think one good pull would snap you in half. His lips press to your own once more, guiding you through a methodical, easy kiss. It's the anchor point that keeps you from flying apart. A rock to cling to, weathering the storm.

You're thrown head-first into the current the moment his meandering touch reaches your wetness.

A sharp gasp into his mouth morphs into an elongated moan when two fingers slide easily through the heated arousal coating your entrance. A physical ache tears through your body as the appendages circle around your clit, teasing and promising so much and yet avoiding it all the same. He denied you again when your hips rose of their own volition, seeking a true release.

An absolute bastard, the devil could be. And willingly at his mercy is where you'd put yourself. Fool. You were a goddamn fool.

Each swipe of his fingers pulls another shuddering twitch out of your assaulted nervous system, the stimulation overwhelming and yet not enough. Despite all that, you still notice the devil's throat bob with a heavy swallow, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Knowing the way his senses work, you wouldn't be surprised if he could taste your need on the air.

"Don't...tease..." Words are getting difficult to speak, brain so focused on chasing that blessed release. Pulling your hands again gives you about an inch of movement, but then the devil's hands tighten again, preventing all further resistance. As if in retaliation, his thumb lowers to swipe right across the hood of your clit, eliciting shocks of incredibly intense pleasure so suddenly. Head thrown back into the cot beneath, a curse escapes you—breathless, no more than a hiss, ending in a pathetically desperate keen that would have been embarrassing in any other setting.

You expect some teasing remark from the devilish maestro currently playing your strings, but he only hums low in his throat. As if watching you get wound up so tight by his own hand was equally satisfying. His pace is steady, the pressure just enough to give you want you wanted, without really getting you anywhere.

Your inner muscles clench around nothing, thighs squeezing against his hips that prevented them from completely closing. The devil groans, nearly too quiet to hear, and you're so close to outright begging him to have mercy at this point. That all depended on your ability to actually form the words, of course. Stuttered moans were about the only thing you were currently capable of voicing at the moment.

Something shifted. This time you heard the way the vigilante's breath stuttered in time with your own, need coloring the way he swore under his breath. Your wrists were released as he snatched his hand away—the unexpectedness of it meant you were too dazed to take advantage of your newfound freedom.

Your own warnings are the rough scratch of his jaw along the skin of your inner thighs, and the way he grips them from the top. You have all of a half second to register what that meant.

The moment the wet heat of his tongue meets the needy drip of your cunt, recognition shoots immediately through your body. Back arching off the cot with a moan so broken that at first you didn't realize it was you, your now unrestrained hands scrabble for the back of his helmet. Where his fingers took their time, his tongue held nothing back, licking and swirling along all the folds that had you seeing white. If the vigilante had an instruction manual on completely taking you apart, he was following it to the damn letter.

His helmet was smooth at the back, giving you nothing to latch on to. The short, rounded horns at the front weren't enough to get a full grip upon, but they were your only possible leverage. The heels of your hands pressing them closer to your entrance, you attempt to lift your hips to seek more. His hands are like vices at the tops of your thighs and hold you in place, content to ravish you at the pace he chose.

The small foxhole echoes with your breathless litany of curses and a shaking moans. Beneath it you can hear the wet sounds of the devil's tongue working your core, his teeth making their debut when he scrapes it along the outer folds. The full-frontal assault of pleasure has you soaring closer to climax faster than you were used to, filling you with a strange sense of alarm.

There's no warning as you hurtle straight into your orgasm, throat constricting around a whine as your muscles contract with pulsing pleasure, limbs shaking in his grasp. His mouth never stops working, lapping at the arousal that he's worked so hard to produce. The thundering rush of blood behind your ears muffles, as the seconds tick. Overcome by a floating sensation, you feel all of the tension wash away like the ebbing of a tide. Warmth envelopes your body, peace just behind it.

Overstimulation cuts through the haze like a knife.

Nerves flashing in warning at the continued attention of the Daredevil's tongue, you're yanked back down to reality and twitch underneath his grasp with rough jerks. "D-devil...!" You manage through a hoarse whisper.

"One more." Is all he mutters, breath fanning across your engorged flesh before his tongue drove into your heat with purpose.

He's merciful enough to give your clit momentary respite, focusing instead on licking a full stripe up the folds that were slicked with his saliva and your own arousal. The subtle vibrations of his pleased groans only serve to wind you up further. The cot moves a little, and a glance down confirms that his hips slowly and steadily dig into the bed to alleviate some of his own ignored need.

All attempts at sitting up, at trying to lean down to reach the crotch of his pants pressed flat into the cot, are foiled by the position he has you in.

Any thoughts of reciprocation go out the window when his mouth pressed to your clit once more and sucked. The nerves, having settled somewhat from the first orgasm, now flared with renewed pleasure. Shocks of overstimulation still lingered, but the promise of another climax was outweighing everything else.

This time, it's slower to build. Sharp snaps of intense pleasure course in unpredictable pulses. Rising with haste, before pulling back, edging the sweet release. Your cries take on a high-pitched, borderline sobbing quality. One hand still pressed to the back of his helmet, pushing him as close as he could be, the other covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle all of the noises being pulled from your lungs.

Clearly, the devil took issue with that.

Without stopping or even looking up from his work, one hand unlatched from your thigh and pulled on the crook of your elbow. Fingers thread through yours as he finally gets hold of your hand, keeping you from pulling away and simultaneously giving you something to grip while he drags you towards euphoria again.

Later, you might question where all this intimacy was coming from, but for now you just wanted to cum.

So close now. Perhaps sensing this, Daredevil zeroed in on your clit. A snatch of teeth against the sensitive bud was followed up with that devilish tongue, licking and suckling away the pain, promising pleasure. Your free thigh presses in, trapping his head between your thighs as you press upwards into his mouth, moans hitching with each rushed breath.

The second time feels more intense, somehow. Subtle in its arrival, and yet filled your shivering body with such immense satisfaction and relief that you barely utter a sound as it crashed through you. That is, until the need to breathe hits, and you suck air into your lungs greedily.

The vigilante's pace slows as you ride out the sensation, not slowing until you lay boneless against the cot, chest rising and falling with heaving breaths.

The ringing in your ears ebbs until the world feels muted. You fear reality would be a rough landing place to come back to after such a sweet high, but it's not as unwelcoming as you feared.

Blinking away the tears that had leaked out the corner of your eyes and dampened your mask, you lift your head just enough to see a smug devil between your legs, the side of his head leaning against the same thigh hand softly caressed, smiling that damned little smile that was making your already overworked heart do little flips. The lower, visible half of his face glistened from your wetness, and fuck, if that sight wasn't one of the sexiest things you'd ever seen...

Fatigue, however, clouds over any further lustful thoughts you might pursue. The night had been long. Stressful. And after letting the devil work you over, all that remained was the creeping need for sleep. You fought it with all you had, aware that he hadn't gotten the same attention.

Something in your eyes must have given you away, because he turns his head to place a gentle kiss to your thigh, before rising enough to fully remove your pants. You catch a glimpse of his still fully-tented crotch, a twitch of your fingers as you feel the desire to reach out and touch.

The sight of him lifting the blanket from the cot to cover your body makes you frown.

"But you haven't-" You start to argue, pleasure and exhaustion slurring your speech and slowing all movements to the point of ineffectiveness.

"Not tonight, sweetheart." The tenderness in his voice nearly undoes you. The devil wasn't supposed to have a heart. And yet somehow he had found one. "Just get some sleep. You need it."

The fight leaves you, desire to rest and fall back into this blissful peace too strong to resist any longer. He lifts the blanket again and lets it drape across your nude body, offering protection from the chill in the air as the heat that had worked itself through you began to dissipate. You curl up into the softness, still resisting the heaviness of your eyelids since he hadn't yet left.

You hear him shuffling around, doing what you're not sure. But eventually it stops and he's kneeling down beside you. His hands—now sporting gloves once again—move your hair out of your face with a soft touch. Fingers drift down to glide along your jaw until they settle just beneath your chin in one smooth motion. The smile he sports is just as soft, if not thoughtful.

"Be safe, alright?" He plies, thumb drifting over your chin with absentminded intent. You nod, blinking slow against the fatigue, not wanting to fall asleep with him still here. Regrettably, he releases your chin and stands to step away. "See you around."

Your eyes track him to the edge of your vision from where you lay, hearing him trek up the stairs from where you'd come, and shutting the door behind him on his way out. Silence settles, feeling eerie and out of place after all of that.

One last sinful thought ushers in as you drift off, wondering if he'd take care of himself to the thought of you coming undone by his own hands and mouth. Would he wait until he got home to the privacy of his bed, or cave in to the need and duck down a darkened alley? Would he savor it, take it slow, like he had with you? Or rush to cum because he couldn't wait another second?

Would he whimper your name—well, vigilante name, unfortunately—as he came to completion, cock in his hands?

You certainly hoped so.

A/N - This one ended up being way longer and more involved than what had been my original intention, but hopefully worth it? Let me know if you enjoyed! More spicy content to come, I'm sure...

[merakiui]

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms. 

They are hypnotic and deceptive. 

They are predatory. 

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have. 

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?” 

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment. 

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Boyfriend

A/N: as requested by @yukizaldi. Sorry it’s kind of shit. I haven’t written in a bit and I feel like I’ve forgotten how words work. warnings: smut. **** It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that every committed boyfriend, must, sooner or later, have the period routine down. And Matty fancied himself an expert. As much of an expert as a heterosexual man who has never had a period can be, anyway. He took pride in his system. He kept track. He remembered the flowers and the chocolate. He refilled hot water bottles without being asked, kept the pain killers on hand, happily drove to the drugstore, or ice cream shop, to get tampons and sugary desserts. His strategy was always to get ahead of things before they could happen. Have everything she could possibly need within her reach, so she’d never feel the need to even ask. All that left is the cuddles and Lowe stomach rubs. That part wasn’t restricted to bad period days, though. Matty always eagerly  provided that. 

But, one thing he learned the hard way was that, even for a biological reoccurrence that took place every month for decades of a woman’s life, a  menstrual cycle can, not only be unpredictable, but make her unpredictable, too. 

“Take off your pants.” She panted, into his mouth, kissing him, and biting his lip. 

He mewled, softly, his hands fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. He didn’t get very far before  his hands were crushed by the weight of her hips rolled against his, pushing him against the wall. 

“B-baby….s-slow down.” 

“Shush, Matty. Please. No talking. Just fucking. Okay? I- I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

And how could he not be flattered that his girlfriend wants to jump his bones the very second that he walks through the door?

She got down on her knees, her hands pushing his out of the way and pulling down his waist hugging pants. 

She rubbed his clothed, half hardened cock, listening for his hissing and reveling in the slight bucking of his hips. She felt her mouth watering at the prospect of having him between her lips. 

“Gonna take you out now…”

Matty nodded, eager, cursing, hotly, under his breath. “Christ.”

Slowly, her hand wrapped around him, working him with deft flicks of her wrist, until he was stiff, ready to burst against his own stomach. 

She took him in her mouth, her tongue rubbing the underside of his tip while her hand tugged lightly on his balls. 

“FUCK!” Matty’s legs shook; his palm slammed against the wall in an attempt to steady himself, his hips reflexively. Thrusting into her mouth. “Sh-shit. Sorry…”

She didn’t seem to mind, though, her lips smiles around his cock. The sight so sinful it almost undid him right then and there. Encouraged by his moans, she moved faster, sucking him harder, to the rhythm of his flustered cries and the contracting and relaxing of the muscles in his stomach. 

“No, no, no- stop, stop.” Matty begged, frantic. “If- if you don’t stop, I’m- not gonna make it to the bedroom.” His face turned red. 

***

Matty winced, feeling her grind into his lap. Their lips crashed together, needily, as his hands felt around for the hem of her top. She let him remove her t shirt; his arm snaked around her back to unclasp her bra. The discomfort she felt when the underwire slid from underneath her breasts  sounded a warning in the back of her mind; but she promptly dismissed it, her desire for him outweighing any and all other feelings. 

Matty’s hand cupped her breast, his thumb swiping over her nipple. She jolted, her body tensing up, and not in good way. Waiting for the worst of the pain to pass, she leaned into him again, her lips finding his neck. 

Matty’s hands roamed her body, cradling her back at first, then resting at her neck, before sliding, slowly, down her sides, his fingers tracing her skin. He squeezed her hips, his body instinctively rolling into hers. She felt a wave of cramps hit her, interrupting the needy pleasure of being entangled with him and yanking her out of the moment. She moaned, in a way that sounded closer to pain than pleasure, giving Matty a brief moment of pause. His eyes reluctantly pulled open, watching her searchingly. When she showed no signs of slowly down, he dismissed his doubts, giving himself back to her, his hands reaching for her again, cupping her breasts, squeezing them slightly. his thumb pinch her right nipple. 

She winced loudly. “Ow no- ouch!”

“Sorry- fuck- was that not…”

“No, no. It’s fine.”  She looked down at her breasts. 

“Okay, I’m no mind reader but it was decidedly not fine. It did not sound like the ‘ouch’ of a fine person. Sounded like the ‘ouch’ of someone in pain.”

Her hands cupped his face, attempting to pull him in seductively. Another wave of cramps hit her, and despite her best attempt to stay calm, he could see it in the way that she squeezed her eyes. 

“Baby, no- hang on a minute- no.” As much as he loved being kissed by her, he wouldn’t budge. 

She groaned. Mumbling something under her breath and laying her head on him. 

unexpectedly, he felt a strange dampness against his chest. His brows furrowed, looking down, “babe?”

The sob she’d been holding escaped her lips. She burst into tears. 

“Oh my- fuck! What’s happened? Are you alright?” Matty panicked, his hand tilting her face up to meet her eyes. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“No-nothing.” She sniffled, rolling her eyes. Both at his concern, and her own dramatic tears. “I’m just- I ….want…” she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m so fuckin horny. I want to cum so bad.”

“So- you’re crying?”

“No, genius!” She hit his forehead against his chest as if against a walll. “I wanna fuck you so bad but also- I feel so - my tits are so sore. And….I feel so gross and bloated. I’m tired. My legs- feel like I’ve run a marathon. And then a 10K. And then walked up a mountain. But I’m just….so- “

“Horny?”

“So. Fuckin. Horny.” She whined. 

As if her words had flipped a switch within him, Matty’s entire demeanor shifted, wasting no time in providing her with comfort. His hands rubbed her lower stomach as she rambled on about the various, sometimes conflicting, symptoms of periods, expressing in graphic detail all the things that she wished she could do to him if it weren’t for the alarm levels of exhaustion that she’d been plagued with. Matty did his best to be a listener. But he was never good at hiding his amusement, letting his giggling get away from him occasionally. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” He whispered in her ear. “Wish you’d said something sooner.” 

“I don’t- I don’t want the cutesy stuff.” She stated defensively. 

“What?”

“I- know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna try to make me feel better and feed me chocolate and watch a romcom and get me a hot water bottle….i don’t want that.”

Matty frown. ���Hey! I thought you liked when I did that!”

“I did- I do….sometimes. Just- not right now.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Well, what- what do you need right now?”

“Need to cum.”

“I can-“

“But I don’t feel sexy.”

Matty scratched his head. “May I ask….what- how do you feel?”

“Sweaty and huge and like my feelings are half my body weight and also hungry.”

He giggled, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “Very well. I can work with that. I think.”

****

Matty emerged out of their master bathroom, smelling, nauseatingly of a strong mix of essential oils, like the local Lush store had exploded on him. 

“Warm bubble bath should be ready any minute, m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding her blushing face. “M’lady? Really?”

“Can I get you anything to drink? Something to take into the bath with you perhaps?”

She shook her head. 

“Very well then.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “That give us about…well, I’ll have to do my best work, but I’m up for a challenge.” He grinned at her suggestively. 

“What-“ before the realization dawned on her, he’d picked her up in his arms, tossing her playful back onto the bed. “We’re gonna need a towel for this. Spread your legs for me.” 

[muffymello]

Handsy- ii

(Buggy the Clown x f!Reader)

A small-town shopkeep makes the second biggest mistake of her life by humouring a pirate captain's idea.

1.2k Words

Another boring day working in that stupid shop had taken a full 180 to you now being sat in the lap of a feared pirate captain as you watched the theatrics and insanity of his ship’s circus tent. The one constant of the last few hours was the detached hand holding yours tightly, the white cloth of his glove not concealing the warmth of his palm against yours. The hand, now reattached to Buggy’s arm, didn’t seem intent on letting you go any time soon.

He sat wide-legged with you wedged sideways in his lap, your back resting against the high-set arm of the throne with his other arm right behind it. This positioning had your faces set awfully close together as he grinned maniacally. “So, doll, what’s the story? Kidnap my hand for attention, hm?” He prodded, his arm now snaking around your back to hold you in place. You tensed a little at his words, brain going blank for a minute before you could respond.

“I found it in an alleyway- just a few hours ago! Came here right away…” You lied with a forced smile, not wanting him to know you’d unknowingly caught the hand in the first place. Your best bet was to change the subject a bit, avoid any more suspicion than what you could already see in his narrowing eyes, smudgey makeup framing pretty blues.

“Is that so? Well then, someone as loyal as you should be a part of my crew!”

The certainty of his tone as well as his bold statement caught you off guard, planning to ask something meaningless about his crew or outfit when he proposed such an absurd offer. You squirmed in his lap, only prompting him to give your hand a squeeze and tighten his arm around your back, moving it to rest comfortably on your waist as he pulled you in close to give you nowhere to look except right into those eyes of his. “Whaddaya say, then? Life of a pirate ain’t so bad, y’know~” He teased, still grinning like a maniac.

Alam bells blared in your head at everything going on, but you couldn’t fight off the part of your heart that wanted to accept immediately. The makeup and showmanship of it all wasn’t what enticed you, but the way his hand had remained gentle in yours, keeping you from feeling any real fear at all. You’d assume a fearsome pirate like this to be brutal in nature, but the way your fingers interlaced with his so easily, such a soft and simple gesture, not painful or distressing, had your ever-sappy heart doing cartwheels. “I- uh…”

Mumbling was all you could manage, breaking eye contact and looking around the tent. Everything about this was the exact opposite of your normal. Unpredictable, seemingly no routine or discipline. Still, everyone smiled and shared in eating, drinking and laughing as they performed. It was like a happy family amidst how chaotic it felt, and the rumbling laughter you could feel in the clown’s chest only immersed you further in the experience.

“Not to worry doll, run along for now to think.” He said, amused by how dumbstruck the simple ask of joining his crew had rendered you. His hand once more popped off of his body, less unsettling than it should be to you. The hand led the way, guiding you through the crowds and wild motion, seemingly sure of how to take a path without intervening or colliding with anything. 

Buggy the Clown was surely the only man in the world who had any sense to navigate chaos such as this, and as his hand led you all the way to the edge of your ship, you couldn’t help one last gentle squeeze before watching it fly back to its owner.

Your heart panged with guilt as you knew better than to even consider his wild ideas, there was no way you were cut out for being a pirate. The shop hadn’t exactly trained you for something like that, the closest thing had been lifting heavy boxes and fighting off rude customers. That was nothing compared to the dangers faced at sea, especially as a part of such a well-feared crew.

The idea of the brutality was too much to even weigh out as an option, and you sighed as the music faded and the ship went out of view as you walked home to sleep off the insanely fast beating of your heart in your chest.

_____

The next morning was a new day. New wasn’t the best word for it, as it would all be the same. Same breakfast, same clothes, same walk to work at the same time as usual. Normally, the monotony was no bother, but after seeing the excitement of the pirate ship you’d boarded the night previous the dullness of it all felt suffocating.

Your coworker didn’t even believe half the things you told her as you recounted the encounter with Buggy the Clown himself, her face paling as you told her about his offer. “Hell, you said no right away didn’t you?” She practically begged, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt. “I didn’t exactly say yes, or no. He told me… to think.” You said causing your coworker to pale even further at the glint she saw forming in your eyes.

“Oh God, you know all the things that could happen to you?” “Yes, I do. I hear stories all the time.” “It’s no joke! This is serious!” The two of you went back and forth, even if you hadn’t fully convinced yourself her words didn’t faze you in the slightest. After a few minutes, she huffed and pulled a backpack out from under the register, red in the face. 

“Just go.” She muttered, not looking you in the eyes. “Pack this up and get going, who knows when they’ll leave port.” Her words were practically a whisper as you saw tears begin to bubble up along her lashes. She didn’t even give you a chance to question her motives here before speaking again.

“I’ve never seen you so… bright. You’re glowing, you’ve been practically dancing around the store all day. This small town isn’t big enough for that mind of yours, take your chance before I change my mind and never let you go… and quick, their boat won’t stay docked forever!” She practically yelled at you, holding the bag out. 

You gave her a quick hug and nod before grabbing it, shouting out your thanks as you ran from the store to grab anything and everything you’d need for life as a pirate before the Big Top took off again to the seas.

As you stumbled out onto the dock you saw the ship begin to move, but the panels around the ship’s cannons were big enough to squeeze through. With a great leap and a bit of wiggling, you were officially a stowaway beyond the point of return as the storage room you’d ended up in greeted you merrily with the clanking of what you assumed to be alcohol bottles and sloshing of sake in large, hefty barrels.

You could hear the sound of another outrageous party over the deafening beating of your heart as you curled up in the corner, reaching into your pocket to give Buggy’s hand a squeeze but realizing it obviously wasn’t there anymore.

You wondered what your fate was on this ship, if the great clown would pay you any mind, but your thoughts were cut short as loud, sluggish footsteps echoed louder and louder down the halls.

[chaotic-on-main]

Shoveling Snow with Levi

moodboard and drabble oneshot for @humanitys-strongest-bamf who requested shoveling snow and hot tea snuggles with Levi <3

content: fluff, modern au, established relationship, marriage, winter

word count: ~1.3k

Levi is the kind of man who will do all of the hard chores, even though you're very much capable of doing so. Shoveling snow is one of those. To be honest, you didn't mind because shoveling snow was the worst part of winter next to having to drive in it. But it means time away from your newly wedded husband, and for that you were sad about it.

On this particular day, Levi awoke to a few feet of new accumulation staring right back at him from the window. The weather forecast predicted no such thing so he grumbles something under his breath, unfortunately waking you up for the day. He feels you stirring and rolls over to see your face half covered from the plush pillow, a sleepy eye peeking over the navy blue cloth.

“Sorry, Love. I didn't mean to wake you.” Levi says softly as he inches closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist just to pull you into him. His bare chest is warm from being under the sheets all night. The gentle beating of his heart threatens to lull you to sleep again, but you remember the grumbling that woke you up in the first place.

“What's wrong?” You ask, muffled from being pressed up against his chest.

“It snowed a lot last night, so I need to shovel. Again.” You can already feel the scowl that pulls on Levi's soft lips.

“No. We're staying inside all day. You said.” You whine back, snaking your own arms around him to keep him close. You wouldn't let him go, not ever.

“That was before I knew the forecaster was a liar.” Levi grumbles yet again.

“The weather is unpredictable, you know that.”

“Tch. If I don't take care of it, then it will just melt and make it worse. Do you want to fall on your ass like last year?”

“That's not fair, I was distracted!”

“A cat running down the sidewalk is not a valid excuse when you could have been paying attention to where you were going.” Levi chuckles and rests his chin on the top of your head before kissing it softly.

“Mean. And to be fair, he had a bow in his mouth and he was really cute.” You whisper, a smile still appearing despite the silly comments.

You both lie there a little longer, the only noises in the bedroom coming from the soft exhales you both made as well as the little wall clock on the opposite side of the room. You're almost about to fall back asleep until you're jostled awake by Levi pulling away from you. You do your best to grab him and bring him back but he's too strong for you. Before you know it, you're staring at Levi's muscular back.

“I won't be long.” He says as he stands up and stretches his arms above his head. His back and arms flex from the movement and you can't help but stare. Oh how you wish you could trail kisses down them right now. But you didn't have time for that.

“I'm coming with you.” You state matter-of-factly as you rip off your sheets in a dramatic show of display. You wish you hadn't as the winter morning air bites at your bare skin, but you had to make a point. Pushing yourself out of bed, you turn and stare at Levi with a look of determination.

“You hate shoveling.” Levi states back. He makes his way over to the closet to grab some winter clothing.

“I do. But you promised me hot tea and movies today and I'll be damned if this stops us. It will make it go faster.” You shrug as you follow Levi's steps.

Eventually, you and your husband are both fitted for the snow. He helps lace up your snow boots and you do the same for him. You look like you're ready for some miscellaneous winter sport, but unfortunately you were heading out for something far worse.

Shoveling sucks. Ten minutes in, you can already feel your arms burning and your back aching from bending at such an odd angle. Levi told you to only worry about the walkway connecting the front porch to the driveway. It's a small section compared to his and yet you're still struggling. You're doing your best to slow your breathing and take your time but you still feel sweat starting to accumulate. This chore is enough to make athletes question their fitness, you think.

About an hour passes until you're both done. You collapse into the snow, reveling in the cool that permeates the cloth beneath you. The sky is a brilliant blue with a few low clouds in the sky, no doubt the traces left behind last night's snow.

“I thought you said you wanted hot chocolate and movies.” Levi says as he steps over to you. His shadow covers your face and all you see now is his pretty features with a sun halo around his head.

“I do! I'm just waiting to see if death is going to take me now or later.”

Levi holds his hand out to you and you take it. He pulls you up like you're air and steadies your body to keep you from falling head first the other way. His nose and cheeks are rosy pink from the cold and you reach up to touch his face with your palm. He really is pretty.

“Something on my face?” His gray eyes almost look blue from the reflection of the afternoon sky and bright white snow.

“Yeah, your face. I like it.”

“You're so weird.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“Do I?”

“Well you better. You’re stuck with this forever.” You laugh at his stoic expression with one raised eyebrow.

“Just go inside already. Take a warm shower while I get some tea started.” He shakes his head at you as you start to walk away. He calls your name at the same time you feel his gloved hand wrap around your arm.

In just a few seconds, he pulls you into him and is tilting your chin with his other hand towards his face. His lips meet yours gently, the warmth of it all spreading into your face and down to your toes. Then it's over as it started. His face pulls away as he looks into your eyes earnestly.

“Now go. I'm sure you have a ton of movies in mind.”

Levi’s special tea is done brewing around the same time you step out of the bedroom in a fresh pair of pajamas with fuzzy socks to boot. He had the living room ready for a night in. Fairy lights and candles decorate the mantle of the fireplace that sits ablaze. The warmth of it is immediate as you make your way to the couch already adorned with your favorite blankets.

“You know me so well.” You smile over at Levi who is just now setting a tray full of snacks and tea.

“Being together as long as we have will do that to you.” He says back nonchalantly, though you spot that little smile of his tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The movie you picked out was really good. The tea Levi made was even better. As you snuggle up into Levi's side, you take a few deep breaths of his musky scent. It's not long before you're drifting off to sleep again with dreams of snow-filled adventures and your perfect husband.

There is a little over a week left of my winter event! If you'd like to request something, go here for the rules! <3

[constellama]

For how little I talk about Orange I actually think about him a lot, which means I have so many fun concepts for him, so I present to you,

Headcanons/Theories/Concepts about Orange that don’t all make sense but are fun to think about anyway (aka, me rambling about Orange):

(also short disclaimer please don’t take this too seriously I am not any sort of expert in media analysis or anything this is just for silliness)

- I’m mainly going into this with the theory that Orange is some kind of form of externalization, whether that be wrath or just forbidden emotions in general. Honestly my opinion of what he represents is still kinda nebulous but like. Please don’t leave I promise I have good ideas.

- From what we saw with Logan, I think Orange’s abilities might be some form of enhancing the others’ emotions— forcibly externalizing them in some way. There’s so much tension between the other sides, what with Logan wanting to be listened to, Patton never sharing how he feels, Roman still clinging on to Thomas’s selflessness, and idek how this is all affecting Virgil. Not to mention Nico is in the mix. Orange is gonna somehow force the others to actually talk about their feelings. Basically, Janus can force the others to shut up, so what if Orange can do the opposite? (trust me this can only go well and nothing bad will happen)

- We already know Thomas’s perception of the dark sides tends to be what he thinks is “bad” or the opposite of good, like Janus being portrayed as a snake because of snakes’ reputation in Catholicism. I think it would be fun if Orange also leaned into the religious imagery. What I’m saying is that I think Orange should have goat motifs. Please. Goats are animals also associated with the devil and sin and if Thomas believes that whatever Orange represents is “evil” in the same way he initially thought Janus and Remus were evil, then it makes sense he may subconsciously see him that way. But like, this is mainly because I want orange to be a silly goat. Give that man rectangular pupils please it’s beneficial to my mental health.

- We still know next to nothing about Orange’s personality so this is where it really gets fun! I want to believe Orange is cold. Cold, calculated, a completely icy demeanor. More on his relationship with Logan here, idk if this is an unpopular opinion but I don’t think Orange has much to do with Logan at all. I don’t think they’re as connected as we think, actually. I think the only reason we see orange manifest with Logan is just because Logan happened to be the first person he got to. If anything, Logan now knows to avoid whatever brought him on, which we see in the gift exchange episode when he shuts down Remus after he said “Kinda makes you wanna scream, huh?”

- Adding on from the last part ☝️ I think it would be really funny if Orange got to Roman next. It would be completely unpredicted and with how vulnerable Roman is, he’d be forced to come to terms with the fact that not everything is black and white. Let him have ugly emotions and put a mirror in front of him, if you will.

- ok this is so unorganized but back to Orange’s personality, I think he should be completely devoid of emotions. Analytical in every way Logan wants to be. Idk how to explain this part but his emotions are outside of him, externalization in the way his emotions are external and forced out of the others. This isn’t saying he’s possessing them, but more like he’s an empath. An empath if he was evil but not really. I sound insane but I swear it makes sense.

- also as a bonus, there’s this fun hc that I have (I promise this has to do with Orange) but we know Virgil’s name is a sensitive subject for him. We also know the dark sides like to take advantage of that. And it’s so deliberate in a way that makes me think there’s more to it. SO HEAR ME OUT. You know how Virgil’s name was taken from the Roman poet Vergilius? What if that was his actual full name. What if when he separated himself from the dark sides, he cut off the “ius” because he felt it associated him with them. He told the others they can call him “Virge” as a nickname so they had no reason to assume Virgil was already a nickname. Now imagine that when we meet Orange, because he needs to sides to externalize everything, he refers to Virgil as Vergilius. Yippee more tension for everyone!! Another thing the sides have to discuss as a way to fully come to terms with the fact that they have to communicate and let Thomas breathe!!!

If you made it to the end of this post!!! What !!!! Ty for reading my silly rambles, reminder that none of this is serious, this is entirely for fun and also probably doesn’t entirely make sense. (I tried to make this as coherent as I could). I doubt that any of this is going to end up canon, but the concepts are fun to think about !!

[kxttqi]

HHihihi love your writing !!

Can I req the pjsk boys with a gf thays an absolute simp?

Like shes got plushies, posters, keychains and all sorts of stuff of char

Shes also super short and cute and can sometimes be super lazy or super bubbly

Basically unpredictable

ty <3

✧ pjsk boys with a fangirl s/o.

summary: they visit your room filled with plushies, posters and other trinkets of them for the first time

pairings: akito, rui, tsukasa, toya x fem!reader (separately) 

genre: fluff

warnings: kinda suggestive in rui’s part depending on how you interpret it

a/n: waaa this was such a cute prompt, thank u for requesting!! i sorta rushed toya's part pls forgive me toya fans

— requests are closed

shinonome akito

when he walks into your room for the first time he literally just stands there in the doorway like 😦

he’s so flustered seeing all the posters and plushies of himself situated around the room 

he can’t stop smiling when you enthusiastically take him by the arm to give an impromptu room tour

like he tries to act all calm and indifferent but inside he’s just whwhsnjhdwkh

​​he reluctantly admits the plushies are cute, but when you offer him one, he awkwardly refuses

and then you go to put it back and he’s like “hey, wait, I was joking!” and wrestles it from your grip

♪ "You really went all out, huh?" he frowns, but there's a playful glint in his eyes. Deep down, he's touched that you've dedicated your room to him. 

He tries to keep up the act, shooting you a sidelong glance with a half-smile, but it's evident that he's struggling to keep his composure. His cheeks tint with a subtle shade of pink, and he's fighting to suppress the grin threatening to break free. It's a strange mix of embarrassment and flattery, seeing how much you appreciate him. 

“Come on, Aki, you know you love this!” you say.

Finally, he sighs, the corners of his lips betraying a genuine smile. 

"Alright, alright, you win. But only because it's you," he admits, his eyes softening. "I never thought my face would end up plastered all over someone's room. You really know how to catch a guy off guard."

You grin.

"But," he continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I know a thing or two about catching someone off guard too." 

Before you can respond, he closes the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a playful yet sweet kiss. As he pulls away, there's a teasing smile on his face.

 "Consider us even now.”

kamishiro rui

OML THIS MAN WILL NOT STOP TEASING YOU ABOUT IT

the moment he sees all of your merch of him he becomes cocky af

he would definitely make you more stuff to add to your room

he’ll try to redecorate your room a bit for you, putting up posters and hanging lights (under your guidance ofc)

secretly steals some of the plushies when he leaves because they’re cute 

 forces brings tsukasa over to your room just so he can see the huge collection of items

♪ “Oh? Looks like someone can’t get enough of me…” Rui giggles, placing a kiss on your forehead as his arm snakes around your waist. 

“Do you like it?” you ask excitedly.

“Why wouldn’t I? They’re all me, after all.”

You cross your arms at his arrogance, but can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. Rui had always been confident, but since stepping foot into your room, it seems to have grown tenfold.

He pulls you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. "But you know what would make your collection even better?" he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ooh, what?" you ask, intrigued.

"More of me," he says with a smirk, his gaze traveling to your bed filled with plushies. "Maybe a body pillow?"

“Rui!”

“Hm? I’m sure you would enjoy it.”

tenma tsukasa

tsukasa.exe has stopped working

after what seems like eternity of silence he just goes AHSAHSJAKAK (the typical tsukasa scream yk)

IMMEDIATELY gives you a big hug; he matches your energy so well

 if there's a poster with him in it, then he'll love standing in front of it and striking poses for your amusement

sits on your bed and pretends to be one of the plushies just to hear your cute laugh 

♪

“My eyes have been blessed by the sight of this glorious shrine! I am unworthy of such devotion, and yet, here it is!" Tsukasa dramatically threw himself onto the plushie-covered bed, hand over his heart.

"Tsukasa, you're being a bit—"

"Shh! This is my moment of gratitude!" He interrupted, eyes sparkling with mock sincerity.

"Okay, I'm listening," you said with an amused smile.

He clasped his hands together, looking up at the ceiling as if addressing the merchandise gods. "Thank you, [name], for bestowing upon me this sanctuary of Tsukasa. I shall carry the weight of this honor with the grace of a thousand swans and the dignity of a soaring eagle. May the Tsukasa vibes forever resonate in this hallowed space!"

You burst into a fit of giggles, unable to contain it any longer. Tsukasa, satisfied with his grand thank-you speech, looked at you while beaming.

As the laughter subsided, Tsukasa gently cupped your face, his fingers tender against your skin. He leaned in, closing the gap between you with a soft, lingering kiss. 

“Thank you so much, [name]!”

aoyagi toya

he takes in the room for a few moments before breathing out a soft “wow”

it srsly means SO much to him when his s/o is his biggest fan

he reaches out to touch some of the items, almost as if to confirm that it's real.

♪

Eventually finding his words, Toya turns to you with a soft expression and says, "Thank you. This... means a lot to me."

You smile cheerfully.

“You deserve it, Toya! You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble for me," he says softly.

You shake your head and pull him into a hug. Toya hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, a genuine warmth in his embrace. 

"You're worth every bit of trouble," you assure him, the sincerity in your voice echoing your unwavering support. "Seeing you happy and appreciating this makes it all worthwhile.

As you hold each other, he speaks, his voice muffled against your shoulder, "I just... never expected someone to believe in me this much. It's a bit overwhelming, you know? But in a good way. …I love you."

[draco-after-dark]

Dory Verse - Aftermath

small spoiler for the Feral JD au just so ya know

Rough draft of my favorite Dorse Verse boys seeing Feral again

(I did not re-read this shit so if spelling error you didn't see it)

It had been months, maybe a whole year since they had all last seen him.

Since Grey had last seen his chip buddy.

Since Eldest had last hung out with his therapy dog.

Since Hitman had last seen his comrade. His amego. His best friend.

‘Where are you Feral?’

At first, none of them had really batted an eye at Feral’s absence. The troll could be pretty unpredictable at times and it was always hard to tell when he was at the house or not. He would disappear for days at a time and then reappear somewhere out of thin air.

After a week had passed Eldest had asked Hitman about where the resident mayhem makers could be. Hitman had no clue. Feral wasn’t exactly the talkative type so there was no way for him to tell them when he would be back.

After two weeks they started to worry. Feral had never been gone for this long before. Maybe they had all just been busy. Missed each other because of how wonky time seemed to move in this place. Maybe Feral just had some things going on and he couldn’t visit?

No, that didn’t seem right. Eldest had known Feral a lot longer than Hitman, This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong and he had no way to contact his little buddy.

Before Feral disappeared if you found Hitman, Feral usually wasn’t very far away. The scruffy troll had taken a liking to the awkward troll almost instantly. That fact alone back made a man full of the other JDs of the house jealous. For different reasons depending on who you asked.

Ever since the early days when Crystal and Grey had figured out just how food-motivated the feral troll was it became a sort of right of passage. Piss off Grey and by default, you’d have to deal with Feral. If a chip bag was ever tossed in your direction then good luck because you’d need it.

So when three weeks rolled around Eldest and Hitman had gone to find Grey and figure out what was going on. Since neither of them knew where their friend had disappeared or why, maybe Grey did. Eldest knew how much the troll cared for Grey after the whole Snake incident. God, he really hoped nothing bad hadn’t happened to Feral.

Weeks turned into one month and then two. After that, they had stopped keeping track. Every day they counted just made things worse. Left more questions. More worry for their friend. 

Until months later.

They had all been in the kitchen eating lunch when they heard the distinct rattle of the door in the living room. It always did that before someone entered. Eldest had gone to peek around the corner to see who it was. He figured it was probably a World Tour considering there was no name present at the top of the door. It was something they released that happened to the most frequent visitors of the house. That and World Tour had said he was going to drop by today.

What Eldest hadn’t been expecting when the door opened was to see a completely unfamiliar troll step through. It was unexpected, to say the least. A new John Dory hadn’t shown up in months so they had all just figured that was everyone.

He was so shocked he just stared at the newcomer.

Eldest’s frozen look had quickly gained the attention of the other two and they had moved to also glance around into the living room.

“What the fuck?” Grey said, also being surprised by the newcomer.

This quickly gained the troll's attention. Their ears quickly perked up, eyes shooting towards the small group. At that, their eyes widened as a large grin broke out across their face. 

In a matter of seconds, the troll had already bolted across the living room and grabbed Eldest, spinning him aggressively around. Arm tightly crushing and head pressed into the side of Eldest. This troll was definitely something. They’d picked Eldest up so fast and effortlessly that It had Grey reeling back further into the kitchen.

As soon as the stranger had noticed Grey he had already dropped Eldest. The troll wobbled from dizziness from the constant spinning as the stranger set his sights on his next target. 

Grey.

Grey had curled his hand into a fist ready to punch the troll but before he could swing his arms were already locked by his sides. Grey was about ready to bite this guy if it came down to it but he suddenly froze at the sound and feel of a deep rumble.

It felt familiar..?

Grey was quickly released, unlike Eldest who had been held for a good minute. Eldest now leaning against the edge of the counter waiting for the world to stop spinning so he could ask who they were.

As soon as Grey realised he quickly backed away from the taller troll who looked curiously down at him. The was when 

The trolls then launched themselves directly at Hitman. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap of fluff and fur. Hitman let out a loud grunt a bit dazed at the abrupt impact. When his eyes cracked back open he was face to face with the pale blue troll. 

He’d never seen someone smile so wide

“Bbrrrrrr-ooouu-theeerrrrrrrr.” The troll growled out as he hugged Hitman tightly, cheek pressed firmly into Hitman’s.

‘Wait… brother?’

At that, Hitman had jolted back his hands flying forward grabbing both sides of the mystery troll's face and really looked at him.

Eyebrow slit. Chip out of his ear. Black earrings. Two scars over the right cheek. One big snaggletooth.

‘Holy shit’

“FERAL!”

The troll grinned widely at that as Hitman latched onto him like if he let go Feral would disappear again.

“Feral?” “Feral!”

Grey and Eldest both called one of confusion and the other of relief.

At that exclamation, Eldest stumbled towards the two and crashed onto the floor next to Feral. Hitman was still clinging tightly to Feral as he wiggled an arm free and reached out towards Eldest. 

Eldest’s eyes watered and with a loud sob, he latched on the other side of Feral.

“Feral where! What! AUGH-” Eldest could barely get a word out through his choked sobs. Hitman was not faring much better as he began to shake and also started to cry.

Grey simply watched the three

A devious smirk streaked across Feral’s face.

“NO. DON'T even think about it!”

It was too late Feral had already unwrapped his long tail from his waist and latched it onto Grey's arm. Dragged the unwilling troll straight into the cuddle pile.

Grey grumbled a few protests but eventually settled down. Eldest, reaching out an arm and crushing Grey into them all.

Feral had missed this. Missed them all so much but some many things had happened in such a short period of time he just didn't have the chance to visit.

But he was here now and that's all that mattered.

His low rumble soon fizzed out into a pur, the vibrations from Feral rippling out and through the other three.

This was perfect.

That was when they all heard a voice.

“Did I miss something?”

World tour stood in the entryway of the living room with a puzzled look on his face.

“Fuck.” Grey was never going to hear the end of this.

Grey! JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame

Eldest! JD belongs to @matmiraculous

Hitman! JD belongs to @lemony-and-zesty

World Tour! JD belongs to @year2000electronics