#their expression goes even darker

[wingsofhcpe]

is there like some common belief in Germany that makes the average person here think that if they say something in German, and I reply "English please, I don't understand", angrily and condescendingly yelling the same thing at me STILL in German will somehow make me instantly and magically fluent in their own language? Like oh I said I didn't understand what you said and if you can repeat it in English but you yelled the same thing again while pointing me at a German sign, NOW I understand everything you just said that I couldn't catch a word of a second ago, thank you! 🙄

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I�� I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[sleepymarimo]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

summary: one time zoro pushes your affections away and another time when he begrudgingly accepts them. pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: none, zoro being a cutie and confused about soft feelings an: just some fluff bc I have a headache and I wanna give him a hug :( wc: 1.2k

it seemed like zoro had always let the oddest things to happen to him.

he’d let chopper climb atop his head, tiny hooves brushing through strands of moss green hair. when the reindeer’s soft fur tickled the skin of his cheeks, he didn’t blink.

he’d let usopp cling to him in fear, idly looking around with a bored expression as the sniper tugged at his hakama or pushed him right toward whatever threat lay before them.

the list goes on and on, the ever stoic swordsman never really putting in the effort to actively resist his crew mates or the occasional curious animal.

with that in mind, you figured that you’d be able to get away with some gestures of your own.

after a particularly rough battle, you’d been so utterly happy that your arms wrapped around the rugged swordsman, squeezing him tight.

you blame it on the adrenaline, not those pesky feelings of yours that you refuse to acknowledge.

it was an innocent embrace, imbued with nothing but affection and glee, yet that didn’t stop him from tensing at your touch.

the next thing you remember is being pushed away, gently but firmly, and feeling dumbfounded.

“the hell are you doing?” he had roughly questioned, brushing off your much-too-sweet touches from his person.

uncomfortable.

he was uncomfortable and he hated it, not particularly fond of feeling so vulnerable from something as simple as a damn hug.

looking between him and your still awkwardly stretched out arms, you come to a sort of realization.

zoro didn’t just let things happen to him. no, he allowed them. every touch and tug and pinch was permitted, actively decided upon by the marimo.

that fiasco was almost a whole week ago, the thousand sunny now barreling through the rolling waves of the sea in the hopes of reaching a winter island.

even as the air became colder, the clouds darker, you continued to simmer.

unjustifiable annoyance creeps into your brain just thinking about how he pushed you away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and hurt alike.

he didn’t feel that bad.

the swordsman had boundaries, which was understandable, set in place for the sake of self-preservation.

that small flip his heart did when he felt you hug him? the boiling heat that clawed up from his chest to his cheeks and to the tips of his ears? absolutely not.

he didn’t want to deal with that, especially after a fight and with the rest of the crew watching.

it took time for you to adjust your actions, to maneuver around the barriers he’d set in place for himself.

being the stubborn little thing you were, you decided to throw yourself into the jaws of the tiger once more.

you try your luck on a brumal morning, a light frost already starting to form on the deck. it seems like the water is still, the sea easily parting as the ship effortlessly glides on its surface.

the observation deck is your destination, where you’re sure the marimo will be.

and indeed he is, outwardly unaffected by the biting cold.

meticulous as ever, at least when it comes to his craft, he sits on a mat and polishes his blades. shoulders relaxed, but eyes sharp, he goes about his task with precision.

he knows you’ve just entered the observation room, thinking that a nod of his head and a small grunt is enough of a greeting.

the scent of steel and polish hang in the air as he continues, figuring that you’d come in to grab something.

he doesn’t expect to be what you want. what else was he good for besides swinging a damn sword around?

you mask your nerves and step inside, taking brisk steps towards the swordsman. it’s now or never, you think, quick to take a seat behind him on the mat.

with slow and gentle movements, you situate yourself into your preferred position.

your chest presses into his back, the rough material of his shirt not enough to keep you from resting your cheek there.

your inner thighs hug his outer ones, the firmness of the muscle beneath forcing you to hold back a shudder. sealing the deal, you loosely wrap your arms around his midsection.

“good morning.” you mumble, speaking to him as if he were a deer about to bolt.

silence is what you get in return and you wish you could peer into that thick skull of his to see what he was thinking.

warm.

that’s how zoro feels at first, before something akin to discomfort starts to gnaw away at him.

his hands come to a stop, his head lifting as he stared ahead and processed just what the hell you were doing.

there’s a split second of stillness- a period of time where he decides if he wants to revel in your touch or bask in his solitude for a moment longer.

it feels like eons pass before the tension is broken, fizzling into nothing as if it didn’t exist in the first place.

his hands resume their task of polishing his prized swords. the muscles in his body relax and everything else suddenly melts away.

he grants you permission.

he allows it.

“morning.” he grumbles back, speaking with an air of nonchalance that contrasted with how fast his mind was racing.

it’s a delicate balance, as frail as the thin layer of ice starting to form on the glass windows.

you know now more than ever to hold off on the banter and teasing, unless you wanted to get bucked off.

taking what you’ve been given, you’re content enough with releasing a deep breath and letting the rise and fall of his back lull you into a light doze.

time seems to pass slower in this world, in this little pocket of tranquility which exists only for the two of you.

when you finally decide to loosen your grip and pull away, he lets out a noise equivalent to a growl.

he’s almost offended.

one of his hands holds your wrist in place, his grip firm. he’s never been good at displaying tenderness, his words unintentionally gruff. “oi, where are ya goin’?”

he releases your arm, almost daring you to defy him. his muscles relax once more, calloused hands resuming the tedious task of polishing steel as he picks up his next sword.

his tone is softer, spoken as a mumble as if he was afraid of saying too much. “just stay a little longer.”

the request has you momentarily astonished, eyes widening a tad before you got a grip on yourself. your arms settle back around his waist, a pleasant buzz spreading in your chest and down to your toes.

you were well aware that this was a rare opportunity, one that you could not and would not pass up.

so, you let out a sigh and rest your cheek on his back once more.

his aura seems to encapsulate you, making you feel safe and at ease.

he’s satisfied with your reaction, how you effortlessly unwind and how your breaths even out.

once again, he’s warm.

zoro decides that he can spend hours just like this.

for the crew, he could always be a demon. for you? he wouldn't mind being a bit more human.

[bamfkeeper]

You were taken and Kurt does everything he can to to get you back.

I wanted to write something like this since the post where he sees you get hurt and goes nuts. This is sorta like that but more extreme. A little darker than what I've written before. Please skip this one if the warnings make you uncomfortable. There might be a part two that features more recovery, maybe. Idk yet we will see.

Warnings: Gender neutral mutant!reader, kidnapping, descriptions of injury, creepy soldiers, violence, mutant prejudice (the term 'mutie' is used), mentions/descriptions of physical abuse via soldiers to reader, good ending I promise, unedited (at this point please just expect it lmao I never edit my writing bc I'm lazy).

WC: 3.4k

It happened so fast, a blur of motion and confusion. You barely had time to react before you were snatched from the comforting surroundings of your bedroom and forcefully shoved into a heavily armored vehicle. The interior was cramped, filled to the brim with men in imposing uniforms, their expressions stern and unyielding. You looked up at all of them, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your powers were gone, they had put that damn collar on you, the one designed to nullify your abilities. In that moment, you felt completely and utterly helpless, stripped of your defenses and at the mercy of your captors. They knew it too.

"Poor thing. It doesn't know what to do, does it?" one of them snickered at you, his voice dripping with mockery and malice, making you shiver with a mix of disgust and fear. The man's voice was so vile it made you want to vomit, and the way he looked at you made you feel profoundly uncomfortable. You were helpless, bound on the cold, hard ground of the van, as all of these soldiers kept their disgusting, predatory gazes glued on you, watching you squirm in agony and distress on the floor.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and metal, amplifying your sense of dread and making your situation feel even more hopeless. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you desperately wished for some form of escape, but there was none. The soldiers' laughter and jeers filled the back of the van, and you felt even more distressed.

"You're a cute mutie, you know that? Most of 'em you can tell are filthy things, but you...you're one of the attractive ones, aren't you?" one soldier spoke. His words were condescending and cruel despite what he said. The tone of his voice carried a sharp edge, filled with disdain and mockery. He looked you up and down with a sneer, observing you with distain and annoyance.

His comrades stood by, chuckling and nodding in agreement, their eyes filled with the same mixture of contempt and amusement. His expression growing more malicious with each passing second, his boot lifted and kicked you slightly. "Are you going to speak, or are you mute, just like a dumb animal?" he asked sharply.

You took a sharp inhale, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to steady your nerves. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you made a conscious effort to avoid interacting with them at all. The last thing you wanted was to provoke them and risk any form of retaliation.

Your throat was dry, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you swallowed thickly. "N-no..." you managed to let out in a quiet, shaky whisper, barely audible but enough to convey your reluctance and fear.

A sharp sting to your cheek as one of them swung their baton across your face, the impact reverberating through your skull. The blow was so hard it jerked your head to the side with brutal force, and your temple slammed painfully into the cold, unforgiving floor of the van. You could feel the rough texture of the metal against your skin, the scent of dirty leather and iron filled your nostrils, adding to the disorienting pain.

He scoffed, the sound filled with disdain, his eyes holding nothing but cruel amusement and a twisted sense of superiority. "Pathetic freak," he spat, the words dripping with contempt and malice.

The ride was unbearably long and dreary, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. You laid on the cold, hard floor of the van silently, trying to block out the incessant comments and remarks they made about you and your appearance. Their voices dripped with eager malice as they spoke about the brazen and disgusting things they wanted to do to you, each word sending a shiver down your spine and making you want to curl up into a tight ball and hide from the world.

After what seemed like endless hours of discomfort, the van finally slowed to a stop. You were roughly dragged out of it, your legs refusing to cooperate after being forced to lay in such an uncomfortable position for so long. The sun had set the world into a foggy darkness, the only lights illuminating the area were from the large bunker that was build into the wall of a large mountain, guarded with armored vehicles and more men in uniforms.

You struggled to regain your bearings as they pulled you forward, your body aching and your mind reeling from the ordeal. They forcefully walked you inside the huge doors that were drawn open, jerking you around with a roughness that made it hard to keep your composure. Their hands grasped you firmly, their hands groping your body as you struggled against their grip, trying desperately to maintain a calm façade.

Your brave face was beginning to falter, and it became increasingly evident that your terror was rapidly growing. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide the fact that fear was taking over, creeping into every corner of your mind.

They walked you to a wall of cells, which stretched endlessly in both directions, each one containing a mutant. Some cells already held mutants who were caged and looked absolutely horrible, as if they had been there for a long time. The conditions of the cells varied greatly; some were sterile and clean, while others were more run-down and dilapidated, as if the guards had no fear that the mutant inside would ever escape.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect. Most of the mutants didn't move or look up; they were either lying down or sitting in a posture of utter defeat. Their eyes were vacant, their spirits broken, and it seemed as though hope had long since abandoned them. The overall atmosphere was one of despair and abandonment, a stark reminder of the cruelty inflicted upon them.

"What is this place?" you asked, attempting to sound firm and confident. However, your voice betrayed you, emerging as meek and afraid instead. The man holding you chuckled in amusement at your fear as he opened the heavy, creaking door to your chosen cell.

"Your new home, mutant. Get comfortable," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. With a rough shove, he threw you onto the cold, hard ground. The impact knocked the wind out of you as you landed with a thud. The man then unsheathed a gleaming blade, its edge catching the dim light.

He began to cut through the coarse ropes that bound your body, each slice of the blade careless. He didn’t care if he nicked you, and he did a few times. You flinched as the blade cut your skin, the sharp jerks and sawing through the ropes stabbed into you as you let out sharp hisses and pained gasps.

The man continued as if he weren't hurting you, and he scoffed with each noise you made. "If you sat still this wouldn't have happened," he grabbed one of your bleeding arms and he held it up.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice whined out, desperate for answers. None of their uniforms gave their organization away, and you had no idea what they wanted with you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls, which only added to the sense of dread you felt. The man just stood up, shrugging nonchalantly as if this entire situation was a routine matter for him.

"Nothing important. Whatever the boss wants," he replied, his voice dripping with apathy. "We do anything to your kind, and no one will come for you. We won't be charged with any crimes, you aren't people. You're nothing to us, and soon we will exterminate your species and we will be the supreme race on the planet again."

His words cut through the air like a knife, making it hard to breathe. You could see the cold determination in his eyes, a reflection of a deeply ingrained hatred. It was clear that they had been planning this for a long time, and you were just another pawn in their grand scheme. The thought of being part of such a ruthless plan made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do but listen and hope for a chance to escape.

The days melded together in an indistinguishable blur, and your concept of time dissipated. Every single day, you were visited by the men, who would unceremoniously drag you into a sterile lab filled with cold, clinical instruments.

There, a man wearing white would subject you to various invasive procedures, poking and prodding you with sharp tools that seemed designed to maximize your agony. They took many things from you—blood, tissue samples, and even bone marrow—leaving you feeling increasingly depleted and always somewhat wounded and weak.

Your time in this nightmarish place was exactly what mutantkind was afraid of, what you were afraid of, filled with relentless suffering, and they showed no sign of compassion or concern for the excruciating pain they inflicted upon you.

You were beaten regularly, just like the rest of the mutants being held captive in the facility. Every day, they came to your cell with their batons, mercilessly laying into you until your skin changed colors from the bruises. They were relentless, you were kicked and hit repeatedly, dragged by your hair across the cold, hard floors, thrown against the walls, and tossed around like a ragdoll.

You were barely fed, only given tasteless slop that had the consistency of old paste and looked anywhere from white to grey mush. This so-called "food" was just enough to keep you from starving, but not enough to ever feel full or satisfied. The meals were infrequent and meager, purposefully designed to keep you in a state of constant hunger and weakness.

They wanted to ensure that your body remained perpetually frail, as if the collar around your neck didn't already make you harmless enough for them. This deliberate deprivation was a method of control, a way to break down your spirit and ensure that you remained too weak to resist or fight back.

You were so tired.

The torment seemed endless. You swore that if they didn't need to take samples from your body nearly every day for their experiments, they would have taken pleasure in killing you outright. The relentless abuse was a constant reminder of your helplessness, and the fact that you couldn't fight back killed you inside.

Collared, drugged, and experimented on like some kind of helpless animal, it seemed like there was no end to the torment. They groped and touched you in ways you didn't want, and it was clear they had no regard for your consent or well-being. The very sight of your discomfort brought them pleasure, and they made sure you knew it every step of the way. Their methods were devised and precise; deeply psychological torment designed to break your spirit and make you feel utterly powerless.

As much as you hated it, it worked.

Their methods proved to be highly effective, gradually wearing you down over time. You could feel yourself slowly succumbing to their demands, submitting to what they wanted from you. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that your brain instinctively resorted to in order to cope with the relentless torture and abuse. After enduring for such a long period, you found that you had no fight left within you, completely drained of the will to resist.

Red alarms blared loudly, their piercing sound cutting through the silence and yanking you from a rare slumber. Startled, you blinked awake, though your vision was slightly corrupted by the bruises and swollen skin, especially around your dominant eye, which throbbed painfully.

Groggily, your head rose from the cold, hard floor, confusion flooding your mind as you tried to process your surroundings. The distant sounds of fighting drifted to your ears from the direction of your cell, adding to the disorientation and making you wonder what the hell was happening beyond the confines of your small, dimly-lit prison.

You felt your body flinch violently as something large and heavy slammed into the room where the cells were located. The sudden noise echoed through the small, confined space, sending a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you crawled into the nearest corner and curled up there, trying to make yourself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

You had learned from experience that the precious visits from the men were less painful if you were already huddled against the wall, minimizing the areas they could hit with their fists or batons. The cold, hard surface of the wall offered a strange sense of comfort, even as fear and uncertainty gnawed at you.

The the heavy, metallic sound of your cell door creaking open, and instinctively, your entire body tensed up, bracing for yet another brutal attack from the armed men who derived joy from taunting and tormenting you. You prepared yourself for the rough hands and the mocking jeers that usually followed. But this time, instead of the expected harsh touches and cruel laughter, you were met with something entirely different—a voice you hadn't expected to hear again.

"Liebe..." the voice whispered weakly, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread of hope. Puzzled and intrigued, you slowly pulled your head out from its tucked, defensive position and glanced toward the source of the unexpected whisper. The sight that met your eyes made you freeze.

Kurt stood in shock, his eyes glued to your fragile, timid form curled on the floor. The scene overwhelmed him, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. He slowly knelt down, every movement deliberate as if sudden actions might shatter the fragile peace. His hands, steady yet trembling with restrained emotion, gently set his swords on the floor with a quiet clink that echoed in the silence. "Liebe...y/n..." he rasped quietly, his voice a soft whisper, trying his best to sound calm and composed despite the complete internal storm of rage and anguish brewing within him.

His heart ached with as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above your form, not wanting to startle you further. You stared with uncertainty, your body naturally flinching away, so used to a heavy hand and harsh touches that left you in anguish. For some reason, your brain couldn't differentiate between your lover and the men who had been torturing you.

"I-It's me, Kurt..." he said with a pained strain, his voice cracking as if it hurt to speak, "It's okay...I'm here now." He muttered, his hand gently touching your bruised body, his fingers trembling slightly as if afraid to cause you more pain. You made a quiet whine, a soft sound that conveyed both your relief and your lingering fear. Looking at him and realizing that he had come to you, that he was truly here, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

He was here, and you were safe.

The room around you seemed to blur as the significance of his presence settled in, the promise of protection and care easing the tension consuming you. A cry escaped your throat and you fell into him, his arms instantly wrapped around your body, his tail following suit. "Shh, sh...Es ist okay, ich bin jetzt hier." he whispered, trying his best to soothe you while your cheeks dampened with tears.

He held you tightly and let you cry, feeling the tremors of your sobs against his chest. He could hear the terror and desperation in your muffled wails, each one a heartbreaking testament to your pain. Your arms and hands gripped him, but your hold was weak, your strength sapped by the inhumane treatment you endured. You were in dire need of medical attention, evident from your pale complexion and labored breathing. Despite this, he didn't want to let go yet; he wanted to keep you in his arms, so afraid to let go and lose you again.

"You're safe now, liebling," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Oh... I was so scared... so terribly scared I might not reach you in time." His heart ached with the memory of the fear and helplessness he had felt, and he vowed never to let you out of his sight again.

"Let's go...hold on..." he said, gripping you tightly as his tail moved and wrapped securely around his swords. With a swift motion, he teleported you to the jet. The floor beneath you was hard and unyielding, but the environment around you was far more welcoming and comforting than the cold, harsh cell that had been stained with your own blood.

He leaned back to grab something, his arms unwrapping from your body, but your grip grew stronger on him. "No...no, don't go," you were desperate for him, so terrified of his absence, your mind was in pieces, the aftermath of the torture you went through on full display as you became more and more attached to his presence. Needing him like he were the only thing keeping you from drowning in the thrashing waters that plagued your thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere, schatz... I am just getting a blanket for you," Kurt soothed reassuringly. His tail, nimble and gentle, reached out to grab the blanket so his arms could remain wrapped securely around you, providing a sense of comfort and stability that you desperately needed. He carefully grabbed the soft blanket and draped it over you, making sure you were warm, and continued to hold you close against his body in a protective embrace.

The presence of the other X-Men in the jet went by unnoticed by you, They started up the jet and began the flight back towards the mansion where you could be properly treated. Right now, your only focus was on Kurt, his presence and touch being the only things grounding you in that moment of anxiety.

As you finally began to give in to the much-needed sleep your body was desperate for, your eyes caught a glimpse of the swords Kurt had carried with him into the facility. Their brilliant, silver shine was now dulled with the stains of crimson, splattered and smeared across the once pristine blades, telling a silent tale of what transpired before he found you. You blinked, trying to focus more on them, but his tail pushed them out of view, obscuring the unsettling sight.

Kurt didn't want you to witness the sheer carnage he had wrought, as he was completely blinded by a bitter and relentless rage that consumed him entirely. In his fury, he slaughtered so many men that he lost count, not even realizing the extent of his actions. All he could think about was wanting you back in his arms, where you would be safe and protected from the horrors that had befallen you. His blades were stained with the hateful blood of those men who had caused you so much harm, and he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, even though deep down he knew it was wrong.

But he didn't care about the morality of his actions, not now at least. Seeing you so badly hurt had ignited a fire within him, a burning guilt that was only somewhat lifted by the vengeance he exacted. His mind was clouded, but in the chaos, all he wanted was get you home safe where you could be treated. None of the other X-Men dared say a word to him about what happened, by the time they arrived to help Kurt had already went through the men with ease, his blind rage driving him to kill to get to you.

He carefully adjusted his hold, making sure that you could lay your head more comfortably against him. He wanted to ensure that you couldn't see the gleaming blades. His expression was a complex mixture of trouble and deep worry, reflecting the weight of the situation and his concern for your well-being. Leaning closer, he whispered softly, "Rest, liebe... we will get you fixed up soon. Just hold on a little longer..."

You couldn't argue with him now. Your body was in need of rest and you finally felt safe enough to fall asleep. It was such a relief to sleep without worrying about someone coming in and hurting you. You closed your eyes as he held you tight, whispering sweet nothings to you as you slowly allowed your body to fall into a deep slumber. All you knew now was that you had a long recovery ahead of you, and he would be by your side the entire time.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight and @/strangergraphics

Tag List: @southside-otaku

If you want to be part of my tag list, please leave a 💙.

[kastalani123]

The Riordanverse is, ultimately, a children's series so it's expected that the nitty-gritty, darker details of certain things get omitted. Still, I think it'd be interesting to see the demigods, each raised for slaughter in their own way, be the soldiers, the victims, the prey that they grew up to be for both godly and mortal reasons.

Percy always keeps Riptide in arm's reach, always keeps his fingers curled around it, ready to unsheath it every waking moment. He sits and stands with his back flush against walls, eyes and ears always open to seek the slightest hint of danger. He trusts Paul, he trusts Chiron — he still watches every minute shift of their expression, of their body for warning signs. He keeps outside Dionysus's range, ensures he always has an open exit within reach. The smell of alcohol makes him dizzy, nauseous; his thoughts leave his body sometimes, when it gets bad enough.

Annabeth keeps a packed bag at the bottom of her closet when she stays at her family's home; she has places she can stay and her parents and Chiron have been good, but her feet still itch when they frown a time too many. Nobody knows she still sees spiders sometimes, feels her skin itch with their crawling. She makes Percy swear he'll never leave the room before she wakes up unless it's truly necessary. She puts boards on her bed's edges so she'll never fall while she thrashes from nightmares; falling would only make it worse.

Leo sits far from any open fires and leaves if people start roasting meat; Plan C is used sparingly once he isn't constantly fighting for his life. His tool belt can't make food, but it stores more granola bars than he could ever carry without it. He makes himself near-unnoticeable earplugs after New Year's and he avoids looking at himself; his body is too whole for being blown to pieces and half the time he's sure the chunks are rotting around Camp Half-Blood where they should've fallen. He tries to keep from unnecessary interactions; he can't have things tying him to some place, not when he's mapped out dozens of escape plans. He smiles longer and wider than ever before.

Hazel doesn't wear jewelry; the only exception is a wooden bead bracelet Nico gave her after she rejected a golden necklace. Walls close in around her, dust and liquid clog her throat, stones crush her bones– she comes back to the present. She clings to affection like a drowning man to a piece of wood, but keeps watch for signs that it'll turn against her. Silence haunts her every step; she keeps an MP3 player and headphones with her at all times to drive it away.

Frank gathers up his form and pours it into a mould of himself, does what he can to keep it from spilling through the cracks. His fingers are littered with scars and scratches, with a trail of broken mirrors left behind in their wake. There are always voices arguing in the back of his mind — not his father's, but not his own, either; just a phantom screech pulsing through his head. He drowns them by sinking into new responsibilities, new dangers, shaping himself to fit while trying to remain himself. The crackle of burning wood follows him everywhere he goes and he can do nothing to down it out — only stare at whatever he had managed to save from his suicide to remind himself he does not need to worry about it; he has already crumbled into ash.

Piper dives into Oklahoma, into mortality, like she'll suffocate without it. She remains far from everything, though not far enough to be out of the loop, because she needs to know about every prophecy, every end of the world, every step and challenge her friends face. She calls them on a bronze-infused phone, not a rainbow, even if the camera and the notifications and the everythingness of it blind her like a spotlight and the thrum of electricity runs through her veins like venom. She paints her face a bit misshapen here, a bit discolored there, a bit unsettling everywhere, and Shel understands. She understands and she loves her and she says it's beautiful not in aesthetics but in the potential protection it provides, as Piper intended.

Jason had learned every rule with the mere intention to break it, to tear through the chains of military life that had been clamped around his throat for as long as he could remember. He had chased life, rather than the survival he had clung to for so long — packed every second of his ticking down time with it. Finally with freedom, but so little time with it, he snatched every piece of it he could: a mortal highschool, a movie theatre, a mall shopping spree, a room of his own — all carefully documented in stacks of journals, ever breath of air and glimpse of the sun, with copies upon copies stashed away so that his memories could never again slip away like sand between his fingers, so that his friends had something of him left, after his life of nothingness.

[ramhaiba]

𝖡𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 𝖦𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

SNEAK PEEK

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT a/n: this fic is a lot darker than normal of my work contains: noncon sexual themes, manhandling, breaking up, biting, oral (f receiving), baby trapping, modern au

The truth is, you should have broken up with Satoru Gojo a long time ago. Two years ago, the thought of even considering taking a break from Satoru would have sent you into a coma. Why wouldn’t you want to be known as ‘Satoru's girl?��� Being with a guy like him would cause no one to dare look at you in the wrong way. 

Besides, he buys you things that cost more than your rent, and will refuse if you dare to give it back to him because you ‘don’t need such expensive things.’ 

So what exactly is wrong with dating Satoru?

Obsession. 

“You’ve been spending so much time with your friends...sometimes I think you forget who your boyfriend is”

“Jealous? Me? Baby, it’s only because I care about you”

“You know I don’t like it when you’re away, it hurts me. Do you want to hurt me, Y/n?”

“You look great in that dress. But I feel like I should be the only person to see you in it. Why don’t you go change so you don’t embarrass me” 

And the list goes on and on...and on…

If it wasn’t his words that would send you to this point, his constant touching, rubbing, groping, and kissing in public just to scare any guy in your five-mile radius away was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. 

The final straw is when you heard furious knocking on your door, knocking so loud that you could have sworn that whoever was behind it would just kick it down, surprised that you could hear it with the storm outside. Unlucky for you, you were middle of a shower, not expecting to be bothered in the middle of the night. You were forced to wrap a towel around your torso, covering your chest to your upper thighs, and rushing down the stairs to open the door.

You slowly open the door for your boyfriend,  his chest heaving as the rain pours down on his white hair. 

“Satoru- wh-what’s wrong.” you stuttered, clenching the towel wrapped around your body.

“Bastard ” he muttered, stepping inside, letting his wet footprints stain your floors. 

“What? Satoru, why are you even here- it’s late” you questioned, in disbelief. 

“Tell me-tell me that he didn’t fuck you, Y/n. Please” Satoru begged, his hands gripping your shoulder as he forced you to the wall, blue eyes without a trace of sanity.

“Wh-what the fuck are you talking about “ you yelped, unaware of what put your boyfriend into such a manic episode.  

“Is he still in the house? Huh? He is right?” Satoru started laughing, his head leaning into the crook of your neck, 

God- at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he bit your neck off.

“Satoru, you’re starting to scare me. Please just tell me what’s wrong and I can help you” you responded, trying to caress his face, only for him to pin your hands above your head. 

“Nanami, you’re fucking him, right? Suguru saw bring you to your house. Holding hands or some shit. Looking too friendly” Satoru hissed, just the thought of you being touched by hands that didn’t belong to him sent waves of fury into him. 

You didn’t even question why Suguru was watching you when he had no reason to be in your area- 

Thinking back at it, you wondered if Satoru begged asked Suguru to watch you while he was too busy to do it himself. 

“Nanami only came over because I asked him to help fix my door” you answered. 

“Then what? You rode his dick as a reward?” 

“Satoru, I would never” you argued. 

“Then show me… Prove to me that you’d never betray me” he erupted, clicking his tongue 

“Please” he added.

That’s when Satoru stepped away from you, knowing what you have to do, your hands shakily let the white towel around your chest slip off, falling onto the floor, using your forearms to cover your breast and pelvis. You turned your head to the side, finding it unbearable to watch his degrading facial expression as he examined every inch of your body, tears of embarrassment threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

“What’s this,” Satoru asked, eyes hooded, his fingers prying your thighs apart, tracing over a faded bite mark. 

“It’s from you, remember” you answered, voice cracking. Suddenly, you felt Satoru’s hands pull your face towards his, blue eyes locking with yours, refusing to let you look away, “want to bet on it?” he questioned. 

You watched hopelessly as Satoru’s lips trailed down your chest to your inner thigh, his knees on the ground, stopping at the bite mark, his pupils dilating as he took a good look at it, before sinking his teeth right into it, causing you to yelp, tugging on his white hair, silently begging him to stop. And when he finally did, he pressed a wicked kiss on it, pulling back to analyze it, 

“I knew it”

He smiled as he looked up at you from between your legs, pressing his chin on your thigh, “It’s a perfect match on my teeth, I knew you’d never cheat on me baby” he smiled. His hands rubbed your waist as your tears fell from your eyes, heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline.

 Satoru didn’t mind you were crying, in fact, he thought you were always at your prettiest when crystal-clear salty tears dripped down your heated cheeks, eyelashes damp. 

Full version

[kettlefire]

Not Always a Villain (DP x DC Prompt)

Alfred Pennyworth is a man who always stands on business. Despite what the world might think, Alfred is truly the scariest man within the Wayne family.

He is a man of morals, that is correct. There are some lines Alfred refuses to cross. Harming kids is one of them. However, some morals become flexible when it comes to his family.

Alfred isn't Batman. Or any of the other vigilantes under Batman's wing. Alfred is simply a butler, and that's all that matters. He loves his family, deeply and truly. If there is a day when no love is shared, that is the day he is dead.

Despite all that, Alfred is detatched from the vigilante work. His job is to be there for the Wayne family. To offer them help in any way he can. And Alfred always delivers.

Even if it goes unnoticed, just how large of a role he plays.

Alfred is content with his role, with his life. He is more than happy keeping his darker traits hidden and tucked away. Unneeded in a family like the Waynes.

That was until a new villain appeared in the scene. A young man who seemed to strick fear in the hearts of everyone who encountered him. With snow white hair and blood red eyes.

Alfred barely spared a thought to it. Barely paid attention to the chatter about this villain. It wasn't his job to. Alfred was simply a butler, and that was all.

That was until the day it happened. Damian Wayne was sent to the hospital. Bloodied and broken. A truly brutal attack.

When Alfred looked down at the young master. Bruised in a hospital bed with a tube helping him to breathe. Bandages hiding most of the damage, but the whole family knew. This was an extremely close call.

In that moment, Alfred Pennyworth snapped.

He pulled some strings and checked in a few long, overdue favors. Before long, Alfred was on his own mission. He didn't breathe a word of it to Bruce or the others.

Alfred knew they would try to stop him. Or worses, they'll try to join in. This was something Alfred needed to do. Despite being an overall kind-hearted man, Alfred still had the heart of a stone cold killer.

He failed when it had been Jason. Alfred wasn't going to fail Damian. Not another Wayne kid will be failed. Not anymore.

Alfred had been so set on doing it. In taking out this villain before things escalated further. This young man was clearly cold-hearted, willing to hurt anyone and anything.

That's what Alfred thought.

What he believed until the moment he was face to face with the young man. It had been so certain. The man was unbelievably cold. Laughing in the face of Alfred's words, only stroking the old man's anger.

That was until Alfred had landed a hit, and everything shifted.

Blood red eyes suddenly shifted to bright lazarus pit green. The cruel look in those eyes suddenly changed to a horrified guilty expression. The man had stopped the fight in an instant.

Pulling away from Alfred. Terror and guilt clear as day as the villain seemed to retreat. In that moment, it all seemed to click in Alfred's mind.

This wasn't a villain. He wasn't a monster only determined to hurt anyone in his path. He wasn't the Joker.

Even when green eyes turned red once again. Even when the young man struggled and fought against him.

Alfred didn't yield.

He slapped special cuffs on the man, removing the powers he had. Dragged the villain all the way back to the cave.

Even when the anger and recognition flooded everyones' expressions. Alfred didn't stand down. He held strong, refusing to let anyone get their hands on the young man.

The young man that seemed too much like a young boy.

Alfred pushed the crusade to help. Laid his case out. Pulled the trust card. The supposed villain wasn't the person Alfred had beef with.

Not after hour long interrogations. Getting as much information as they could. It was a struggle, but it found an end. Alfred had no qualms with this young man.

No, he quickly learned who was to blame. Who was the person who deserved Alfred's anger. Deserved to pay for what was done. Alfred had a name, and soon... Very soon, that person will be in an obituary. A name was all Alfred needed.

Alfred was going to take down this Freakshow. Even if it was the last thing he could do.

[gothicxreylover]

Can you please make a Yandere male (include females if you want) hashira hcs with a kakushi s/o that repairs their uniforms or clean up after their missions or deliver their swords when it's repaired. Please 🙏

𝕳𝔞𝖘𝔥𝖎𝔯𝖆’𝖘 𝖜𝔦𝖙𝔥 𝔞 𝔎𝖆𝔨𝖚𝔰𝖍𝔦 𝔖/𝔒

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Warning this contains Unhealthily Dynamics, Gaslighting/Emotional manipulation, subtle threats of violence (implied), imbalance of power in relationships, silent threats/ Emotional intimidation, intense/over protective behaviors, jealousy and control, and possessive/ obsessive behavior

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Giyu Tomioka - Water Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Unsettling Attention: Giyu is quiet and reserved, but when it comes to his Kakushi S/O, he’s very protective. He doesn't speak much, but his actions show an unhealthy possessiveness. He silently watches over them while they clean or repair his uniform, not even blinking when they touch his clothes. It’s almost as if he’s silently marking them as “his.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Affection: He will only show affection in small, subtle ways, like standing in the doorway as his S/O repairs his sword or uniform. He watches them like a hawk, and if anyone gets too close, he has a tendency to linger, making his presence intimidating.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Keeping Them Close: Giyu might be a man of few words, but he’s the type to give a barely audible “thank you” after every task his S/O performs. If they’re delivering a repaired sword to him, he might hold their hand for just a little too long, giving them a hard stare as though telling them, “Don’t go anywhere.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Obsessive Protection: If he sees anyone even glance at his S/O, he gets cold and distant, staring them down until they look away. Giyu sees his S/O as someone he must protect, but not from just demons—he needs to shield them from other people, too. No one else should touch them or get too close.

Kanao Tsuyuri - Flower Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle Yet Possessive: Kanao’s emotions can be a bit more restrained due to her upbringing, but when it comes to her S/O, she’s fiercely protective. If her S/O is fixing her uniform or delivering a repaired sword, she watches them with intense focus, feeling strangely possessive of them. She won’t speak unless spoken to, but her gaze is sharp and unwavering.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Small Gifts: After her S/O repairs her uniform or delivers her sword, she might leave them little gifts—flowers, a handmade token, or even a small note with cryptic but affectionate messages. She finds ways to express her affection in subtle, almost secretive ways.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Worrying Over Them: Whenever her S/O goes out to clean up after one of her missions or deliver something, she gets a sense of worry. She doesn’t express it vocally, but you’ll see her pacing, her hands twitching as if she’s resisting the urge to check up on them. She’ll try to act normal, but it’s clear she’s watching from a distance, ensuring that nothing happens to them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle Restraint: If someone gets too close to her S/O, Kanao’s demeanor will change. She won’t directly confront the person, but a cold, calculating aura will surround her. The person will often feel her presence lingering, warning them that they are trespassing into dangerous territory.

Shinobu Kocho - Insect Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Deceptively Sweet: Shinobu’s yandere tendencies are masked behind a calm, sweet demeanor. She’ll smile as her S/O repairs her uniform or delivers her sword, but there’s a glint of something darker in her eyes. She finds it adorable when they tend to her belongings—almost as if they’re her personal servant.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ "Grateful" Gestures: Shinobu is too thankful for the little things her S/O does, to the point where it might seem unsettling. After they deliver her sword, she may press a kiss on their cheek or hand, almost as if marking them as “hers.” She enjoys their attention and becomes very clingy once they show any care for her work.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Isolation: She'll often send her S/O out on "errands" or ask them to "stay close" while she's in the middle of something, like tending to patients or preparing poisons. She wants them by her side at all times, ensuring they aren't distracted by anyone else. The idea of her S/O helping other Hashira or speaking to anyone outside of her circle drives Shinobu crazy with jealousy.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Subtle Threats: If someone is too forward or too friendly with her S/O, Shinobu's kindness turns chilling. She'll smile and laugh, but her words will carry a sharp edge, warning the person to back off. “I’d hate for you to accidentally hurt yourself,” she’ll say with a soft giggle, before turning her attention back to her S/O, watching them with unnerving adoration.

Sanemi Shinazugawa - Wind Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Fury and Fear: Sanemi’s yandere tendencies are fueled by his intense anger and fear of losing those he cares about. If his S/O is cleaning up after his mission, repairing his torn uniform, or delivering a repaired sword, Sanemi will be constantly watching them with suspicion, almost as if he’s afraid someone will try to take them away from him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Forceful Affection: He’s the type who will grab their wrist and pull them close after they’ve done something for him, practically forcing his affection onto them. There’s no subtlety in his displays of need for them; it’s all possessive, domineering gestures.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Unspoken Threats: If anyone else talks to or even looks at his S/O for too long, Sanemi will give them an icy glare. His words are harsh, but there’s a menacing undertone to them. “Stay away from them, you piece of shit. They’re mine,” he’ll mutter, and it’s clear that he will stop at nothing to keep his S/O close.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Extreme Protectiveness: After every mission, when his S/O tends to him, Sanemi becomes possessive to the point of paranoia. He'll try to keep them by his side at all times, and if they get too close to someone else (even in conversation), he’ll act out violently. He’ll hold their repaired sword with a vicious grip, ready to lash out at anyone who threatens his hold on them.

Mitsuri Kanroji - Love Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Affection Overload: Mitsuri is the embodiment of intense, overwhelming love. When her S/O repairs her torn uniform or delivers her sword after it’s been fixed, she showers them with excessive affection—hugs, kisses, and sweet words. She’s not afraid to show how much they mean to her, but the intensity can sometimes feel suffocating. She’ll follow them around with a huge smile, constantly telling them how much she loves them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Clinginess: Mitsuri constantly wants to be near her S/O. She’ll hang around while they’re cleaning or repairing things, offering to help in any way she can—though her "help" often turns into her just watching them with a loving gaze. If they ever go off to do something for another Hashira, Mitsuri will insist on tagging along, afraid of losing them or someone else taking them away from her.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Jealousy: If anyone else seems to take interest in her S/O, even if it’s just friendly, Mitsuri’s mood shifts. She’ll become visibly upset, hanging onto her S/O even more tightly, almost as if she’s trying to "mark" them as her own. "You’re mine, right?" she’ll ask sweetly but with an edge, hoping they’ll reassure her.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Constant Praise: After any task they perform for her—whether it’s repairing her uniform, delivering a sword, or cleaning up after a mission—Mitsuri praises them constantly. “You’re the best! I love you so much! No one else could do what you do!” Her overwhelming compliments make it clear that, in her mind, her S/O is her perfect partner.

Obanai Iguro - Serpent Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Possessive and Silent: Obanai’s possessiveness is subtle but fierce. He doesn’t say much, but his eyes follow his S/O wherever they go, especially if they’re interacting with anything related to his mission—whether it’s repairing his uniform or delivering his sword. His snake, Kaburamaru, might also get in on the act, acting as a silent "guardian" over the S/O, watching them with a snake-like intensity.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Subtle Threats: Obanai doesn’t get angry easily, but his words are chilling. If he notices anyone else speaking to his S/O for too long, he might approach quietly, his voice cold and detached as he asks, "Is there a problem here?" His tone is polite but leaves no room for argument, and anyone who crosses him will feel his watchful gaze lingering long after the conversation ends.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Affection: Obanai doesn’t express affection the same way others do. He’ll stand close to his S/O as they work on his uniform or sword, his presence almost suffocating in its quiet intensity. Sometimes, without warning, he’ll place his hand on theirs, gripping them gently but firmly. His actions are possessive, but in his own way, he’s showing his care.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Controlled Jealousy: If someone else does something for his S/O, like offering to clean up or fix their clothes, Obanai’s jealousy manifests in his unspoken silence. He’ll retreat, but his eyes will never leave the scene. It’s clear that Obanai believes his S/O should belong only to him, and he won’t tolerate anyone else intruding on his territory.

Tengen Uzui - Sound Hashira & His Wives (Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru)

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Overwhelming Attention: Tengen, as well as his wives, are incredibly attached to their S/O. When they’re cleaning up after missions, repairing Tengen’s uniforms, or delivering his sword, they’re the center of attention—not just from Tengen, but from the wives too. Tengen’s larger-than-life personality often leads to him teasing his S/O affectionately, while his wives compete for their attention.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Excessive Praise and Rewards: Tengen will often express his appreciation in extravagant ways, showering his S/O with praise and lavish gifts. "You’re amazing, darling! Look at you, taking care of my uniform like it’s nothing!" His wives, too, will join in on the compliments, sometimes playfully competing to see who can be the most "charming" or affectionate with the S/O.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Jealousy and Over-Protection: Despite their "open" relationship, Tengen and his wives become intensely protective when it comes to their S/O. If another Hashira or even a demon slayer speaks too closely to them, Tengen will immediately step in, making a loud, almost theatrical declaration of possession. "That’s my partner! Hands off!" The wives will back him up, making sure no one can get too close to their S/O.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Group Obsession: While Tengen might be the loudest, each of his wives has a unique bond with the S/O. Suma is clingy and emotional, constantly seeking affection, while Makio is a bit more competitive and will try to steal attention. Hinatsuru, the most grounded, might be more subtle but will ensure that the S/O is always near her and that Tengen's boundaries are respected. Together, they form an obsessive but strangely harmonious dynamic around their S/O.

Gyomei Himejima - Stone Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Gentle but Intense Protection: Gyomei’s yandere tendencies come from a place of extreme, almost paternal love and protection. His S/O may repair his uniform, clean up after missions, or deliver his sword to him, but he sees these actions as signs of loyalty and devotion. He becomes deeply attached and protective of them, always needing to ensure they’re safe and sound. He’ll often find himself watching over them as they work, his imposing figure looming over them but his voice soft and caring.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Obsession: Gyomei doesn’t express his feelings through words often, but his gaze never leaves his S/O. When they do something for him, he might softly murmur, “Thank you… Please, take care of yourself.” He’s almost obsessive in his care, constantly worried about their well-being and ensuring that they’re always at his side.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Extreme Loyalty: If anyone else interacts with his S/O in a way that even remotely feels too friendly, Gyomei will subtly insert himself into the conversation, standing nearby and giving a quiet but intense stare. He doesn't like confrontation but will use his sheer size and strength to ensure his S/O is never out of his sight for long.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ A Quiet Love: Gyomei’s affection is shown in his care. He might not be as outwardly intense as others, but he’ll go out of his way to ensure that his S/O’s work is appreciated, whether it’s helping them with tasks or ensuring they’re well-rested after a long day. His love is possessive in that it never allows them to feel free from his watchful gaze.

Muichiro Tokito - Mist Hashira

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Detached Yet Obsessive: Muichiro’s yandere tendencies are often buried beneath his distracted, aloof personality. While he might not openly express affection, he becomes uncomfortably possessive when it comes to his S/O. When they repair his uniform or clean up after his mission, he watches them with a cold, unfocused gaze, not saying much but always keeping an eye on them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Silent Possession: Muichiro doesn't speak much, but his actions make it clear that his S/O belongs to him. If they ever leave the room to deliver something for another Hashira or work on someone else’s gear, he’ll get agitated, standing up and silently following them to make sure no one else interacts with them. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him, but it does.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Staring and Silent Obsession: Muichiro will often stare at his S/O without realizing it, his eyes unfocused, lost in thought. When they do something for him, he’ll become fixated on them for a while, silently watching, occasionally muttering something to himself that’s difficult to understand. His obsession is quiet but undeniable.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Protective without Words: If anyone approaches his S/O too closely, Muichiro’s behavior shifts. He won’t confront them directly but will stand between them and his S/O, his gaze suddenly more intense, as though silently telling them to back off. His protection is indirect but undeniably possessive.

Rengoku Kyojuro (Flame Hashira)

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Obsessive Attention to DetailRengoku is fiercely possessive when it comes to how you care for his things. Every time you fix a tear in his uniform or clean his blade, he watches you with a sharp, unwavering gaze, as if observing every movement you make. He always comments on how well you do it, almost too much, as if praising your devotion serves to remind both of you that you belong to him. "Only you can handle my uniform with such care, my beloved. You're the only one who truly understands my needs."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Constant Reassurance, Mixed with Subtle Possessiveness.When you deliver his repaired sword, Rengoku will always give you a warm, affectionate hug and a kiss on the forehead. But even in these sweet moments, there's an underlying intensity in his gaze. He’ll pull you close, quietly saying, “I need you to always take care of me like this. No one else can.” He’ll often insist on being the only one who can touch his sword or handle his belongings, and any suggestion that others could assist is met with a cold, possessive tone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Quiet Jealousy, Overprotectiveness. Rengoku doesn't express jealousy in loud outbursts, but when you interact with others in the Corps—whether it's other Kakushi or even higher-ranked members—he’ll subtly insert himself into the conversation. He’s quick to wrap his arm around you or kiss your temple, making it known that you're his. "No one knows how to take care of my things like you do, love. They could never match your level of care." He always ensures that no one gets too close to you, and if anyone offers help, he quickly steps in to handle things himself, though always in a calm, collected manner.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Tangible Evidence of His Devotion.Rengoku’s love for you is intense, and he expresses it through both words and actions. He often gifts you small tokens—like a flame-shaped pendant or a piece of jewelry—reminders of your bond. But more than anything, he treasures your care for him. Every uniform you mend or sword you repair becomes a symbol of your loyalty, a silent pact between you two. If you ever suggest taking a break or focusing on something else, Rengoku will quickly remind you, “It’s because of your care that I’m strong. You are irreplaceable to me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I hope you like it!

[rukkiya]

forget me not

(kaeya x reader)

he promises to take you out to dinner, but he never shows.

“Would you like to place an order now hon?” The waitress asks softly, making you look from your empty wine glass up to her soft eyes.

“Ah, if I can order another glass of wine that would be nice! I’m still waiting,” you look outside the big window next to you, seeing the sky much darker than when you first sat. “I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.” You turn back to her smiling, repeating the same thing for the fourth time for the past two hours trying to convince yourself more than her that he’ll show up. He always does.

“Of course, I’ll be back with the bottle in just a minute.” She nods, turning to get you more of what you requested.

You don’t remember the last time you drank, heck you don’t even drink much to begin with but it’s all you can do to kill time. You don’t want to eat without him and spoil your appetite, he will show up soon.

You know he’s busy, he’s the Captain of the Knights so it’s expected. When he proposes the idea of going out you couldn’t hide your excitement. Anything to do with Kaeya was your favorite.

You arrived at the restaurant the time he told you to be there, at 7pm. The clock reads 9:30 now but it’s ok, it’s understandable. He’s the captain of the Knights after all.

The lights surrounding the small restaurant eliminates the busy nightlife in Mondstadt. You eye the people who are passing by, smiling at the elderly people who walk with their significant others, the parents holding their children’s hands as their laughter fills the air. But your eye catches something from afar.

The familiar head of blue hair among the people walking by. Your stomach erupts with butterflies seeing him finally. Walking down the stairs to the main shopping area in Mondstadt. But as he inches closer you see he isn’t alone. He’s walking with someone, no. He’s holding onto someone who’s leaning on him.

Your eyes squint a bit, trying to see if what you’re seeing is correct. But you see him smiling with the woman next to him mixed in with everything else and your heart goes heavy.

You see his smile much clearer now that they both are closer, he has his arm hooked around hers, almost as if he is holding her upright to keep her from stumbling and she’s giggling at him, eyes wide looking up at him leaning into him as much as she can.

The two walk past the restaurant and down towards Diluc’s tavern, Kaeya didn’t even glance at the restaurant you were currently sitting in waiting for him. Not once, he kept his eyes on the girl the whole time.

You reach for your pocket watch with a heavy hand and flip it open, seeing the time 9:45 pm. Almost three hours, three whole hours and he’s with someone else. He forgot.

You quickly finish the last of your wine and blink. Did he actually forget?

You wave your waitress down when she passes you, making her stop.

“Actually, can I purchase a whole bottle of wine please?” You ask her and she nods, her smile falling a bit at your expression. Your eyes look glossy.

He promised you a night out after so long. You’ve both been so busy with work this sounded so nice but it was too much to ask for apparently. He had more important matters.

Diluc makes his way down the street to his tavern and spots you sitting alone in the restaurant. Glass of wine in hand and solemn look on your face.

His eyebrows furrow. “Why are they out alone right now?” He thinks.

Part of him wants to stop and check in, but part of him knows to not get into people's business. He doesn’t want to sadden you further by making you talk about it. But if he makes another run in a while and still sees you in there, he'll stop by.

Diluc pushes the door to his tavern open, his eyes fall on Kaeya and Amber helping a woman who is belching into a bag, Amber is rubbing her back and Kaeya is holding napkins for her. This makes Dilucs mouth from the line. ”What's going on?” he thinks.

“I got her from here. I’ll take them Barbara just in case.” Amber helps the woman up to her feet and walks to the door, Diluc holds it open for them.

“Thank you, I'll make sure to check in with Albedo and Jean tomorrow.” Kayea waves her off, eye falling on an unamused looking Diluc.

“Your plus one got sick?” Diluc speaks up, making Kaeya’s smile drop.

“Not my plus one, a subordinate.” Kaeya answers flatly, not even laughing at such a dumb joke.

“Why bring one of your knights here?” Diluc asks, taking his coat off, rolling up his sleeves.

“They were exposed to a potion in Albedo’s lab, he suggested bringing them here. He said grape juice might help sober them up, where else would I go to get it when you sell the best.” Kaeya shrugs, making Diluc hum.

“You’re not drinking?” Diluc raises a brow at Kaeya when he realizes there’s no alcohol in front of the captain.

“Nope, I already feel like I’m forgetting something, if I drink I really won’t remember. I’d rather not.” Kaeya sighs, a looking out the window.

“I saw y/n on the way here.” Diluc brings you up, at the sound of your name Kaeya looks at Diluc again his eye brightens. His focus now is on what Diluc has to say.

“My darling? Did you talk to them? What are they doing out this late?” Kaeya smiles, though he’s confused. You’re never out this late.

“They were in the new restaurant down the street, they were drinking.” Diluc clears his throat at the last part.

Kaeya tilts his head. “Alone? What do you mean by drinking?” Kaeya asks

“They had a glass of wine in their hand, they were sitting alone at-

Kaeya tries to think of why you’d be out so late, you don’t have any appointments this late. You didn't tell him you were meeting anyone. His eye catches the calendar behind Diluc and feels his heart drop when he notices the date.

“What time is it?” Kaeya cuts Diluc off.

Diluc pulls out his pocket watch and sighs. “Just hit 10pm” he shows Kaeya and sees the color drain from his face.

“Oh no.” Kaeya stands up in a flash. Before Diluc can question him he’s out the door.

His legs don’t stop. It’s so dark out and you’re alone. How long have you been waiting?

Kaeya sees the restaurant come into view and sprints faster, throwing the door open the instant his hand makes contact with the knob.

The restaurant goes quiet, the few customers and waiters in there stare at the Captain who seems to be out of breath.

He ignores the stares, his eye scanning the vicinity for one person and one person only.

But it's strange, you're not here. He walks further to the back and sees an empty table with a coat that looks familiar.

He sees a waitress clearing empty wine bottles from it, quickly making his way to your coat.

“Excuse me,” Kaeya greets the older waitress and she smiles at him.

“Hell- Captain Kaeya hello! What brings you here?” the waitress smiles.

“I'm looking for someone. Do you know if the person that was sitting here left?” He asks, seeing the waitress’ smile drop a bit.

“Why yes. They were here for a while but they left not too long ago. They had drank a lot of wine and ordered no food. I offered to walk them home since they seemed a bit off balance but they said it was ok. I realized they left their coat a bit too late. I had gone out to tell them but they were already gone.” She explains, feeling sorry for you.

Kaeya feels his chest tighten.

“Thank you. If you don't mind, can I take the coat with me? I'd like to give it to them myself.” Kaeya asks.

“Why of course how sweet of you.” the waitress nods her head, gesturing with her hands for him to take it.

“Thank you.” He quickly thanks the waitress before turning around.

“Wait.” She calls out, making him turn around.

“If I can bother you to check on them right now, I'm worried. If you do stop over there please take this.” she walks past him to the front counter, grabbing a bag.

“I had intended to give this to them since they didn't eat the whole time. They refused, however.” The waitress hands Kaeya the bag of food and he nods.

“Of course, I was planning on stopping by. Thank you for your concern."He thanks her, turning to leave the restaurant. The waitress can see how uneasy Kaeya was from his face, she knows that you were waiting for him all along. When you got up to leave, in your drunken state you told her to tell Kaeya you went home and not to worry.

Kaeya steps out and the cold night air hits him. Did you walk home without your coat? It's freezing. Kayea feels even worse.

His legs walk at such a fast pace, not daring to slow down.

Did you make it home safe? Are you ok? Why did you leave alone?

He starts to run, almost sprint. His mind is racing with the worst.

He turns the corner to your house and stops in his tracks. He sees you. However, you’re not inside the house. You're sitting on the porch leaning on the wall. It's freezing.

His legs move fast again. He drops to his knees when he makes it to you. Grabbing hold of your arms to wake you.

You're freezing to the touch.

“Darling? Hey.” he shakes you a bit and you stir from your sleep, blinking your eyes.

“-ts so cold.” you whisper.

In seconds you feel a coat draping over your shoulders, then a soft fabric around your neck.

Your vision clears and your eyes make out who's in front of you.

Your eyes immediately begin to burn.

“Hey hey, love I’m so sorry please don't cry. I promise I didn’t mean to forget my love, things just happened and it slipped my mind.” He pulls you in when he sees your eyes glossy. His own eyes start to burn.

“Archons, why are you sleeping outside? Do you understand how dangerous that is?” He questions, pulling back a bit seeing you now refusing to look at him.

“I-it was so embarrassing. I sat there while so many people walked in and out. I saw you with someone else and it looked like you were having fun. I was a-alone for hours. I left the restaurant and I left my k-key in the coat of my jacket.” You feel your lip tremble a bit, you’re trying your absolute hardest to not cry but he’s standing right in front of you looking so guilty it hurts.

“That person you saw with me was a subordinate, I wasn’t doing anything else with them while I was out. I was ordered to take them to the tavern to get grape juice to get rid of the effects from a potion they had gotten exposed to. Love, please.” He explains, tone serious as his hands run up and down your shoulders, making you feel warm again.

“It wasn’t my intention.” His whispers, hand coming up under your chin making you look at him.

“Never ever walk home alone again. Not in this state.” He pleads, face full of concern, his eye scanning you making your own eyes burn more.

You notice his white scarf is gone then look down, realizing that’s what he put around you when he found you here.

“I just wanted to s-spend time with you.” You hiccup tears now freely falling down.

He leans in, kissing your cheek, then your other one, up to your forehead, your nose, your chin and stops in front of your lips. You feel his warm breath fan over you and you relax at his simple touch.

“My love, please don’t cry.” His eyes close and he takes a deep breath. He was so worried but you're in front of him, you’re safe with him.

“You have me, I’ll spend as much time as you want until my time is due I promise.” He leans back abit, opening his eye taking you in.

You look tired, you drank and you never do. He put you in this state and it pains him.

“You promise? You promise me i-I’m not thinking the worst, that you still want me and you’ll stay with me?” You ask.

Kaeya doesn’t respond, he leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Hands holding you softly as he gives you another one, and another and another until you're out of breath.

“I swear to the archons above that I want nothing more than to call you mine alway and forever if you’ll allow me.” He pulls back, thumbs wiping any remaining tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

And they do, more spill out. Having your doubts and feeling insecure gets to you often but Kaeya is so patient, so understanding. Him assuring you, being here right now, apologizing proves he meant no wrong. And you believe him, you trust him. You know he wouldn’t do that now, him being here proves so.

“Darling, let’s get you inside, it's freezing.” He stands, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. Placing his hand on the small of your back when you wobble.

“I’ll explain everything better, in full detail of what happened today once you're inside, once you eat, I promise love.” He assures you still holding onto you, not wanting to let go just yet. You nod, holding his hand abit tighter as he unlocks the door to your shared house, ushering you to walk in first. Seeing him this worried, him running here when he realized he forgot. He found you and immediately checked on you. You have doubts often, but seeing him right here cleared any doubts about today. You will listen to what he has to say and believe him because he’s here that’s all that matters right now. Kaeya is here, he’s yours and you won’t doubt him. Not when he looks at you with such loving eyes and holds you so gently, not when he cares so much. He’s here and that’s all that matters now, but most importantly Kaeya didn’t forget.

_________________

author’s note: hiiii lovelies!!! :D it’s been ages since I’ve posted UGH IVE MISSED WRITING SM! :( I’m sorry for the small hiatus. I wasn’t ok but it’s better now, I notice when I feel the most hurt or pain I write the most it helps me convey what I feel and I love writing, you all giving feedback and enjoying them makes me love writing too! I hope you enjoy, I hope you’re taking care and all in good health MWAHHHH IVE MISSES YOU ALL SO MUCH!^~^<33! (ALSO THIS ISNT EDITED so sorry for any errors!)

[revelboo]

Heels(Starscream) always had a special place in my heart, but more as a comedy relief character, but damn, your writing has actually made me feel bad for/love that dude. XD

I was the same way at first, but then I kept wondering why he acts the way he does and, well, you can see what I made of his character in the end.

Everything is Alright Pt 31

Starscream x Reader-lost

• This is the right thing. It hurts too much to be anything else. Your little hands shift on his palms, as he keeps you caged. More so he doesn’t have to look at you than any worry of you falling. If you start asking questions his resolve is going to shatter. It’s already so thin it’s fraying at the edges, but that dream has dug its claws into him and won’t let go. Not a possible outcome, a maybe, but an inevitable one that he can’t allow and it’s tearing at his spark. One good thing just for him alone, but he isn’t even allowed that.

• He’s quiet except for the faint sound of his wings shifting in little fits and starts, that little tell giving away that as silent as he is, his mind is busy as you peek through the servos caging you. It’s the frown on his lips that snags you, though. Not like he’s displeased, but something else you can’t put your finger on. Something is bothering him. He was like this when he left for the day, and now that he’s back, his mood is even darker as he carries you. He’d brought you outside again, but not for stargazing and that sense of something being off pulls at you. “Star?”

• That affectionate, little nickname rings through him and he almost shutters his optics. Because that just makes this so much harder. Servos flexing against you as he studies the overcast sky before dropping his attention to you as the breeze stirs your hair when he opens his hands. In the distance, thunder rolls. “Quiet,” he says, trying to keep his tone all ice when he’s anything but. It’s still not too late to turn back. Carry you back home where you belong. Be selfish again, because he needs you. Your little hands shift on his servos as he moves out of the woods and up onto a road.

• Isn’t he afraid of being seen if someone drives this way? You look around at the empty stretch of road, feeling an uneasy sense of familiarity. You know exactly where you are. Your car’s gone, probably towed away, but this is where you went off the road. Your fingers lift to that healed gash as your heart begins to race. The tree branches overhanging the road are broken and ragged where his wings had clipped them, the road surface pocked from weapons fire. It seems like a lifetime ago. Why bring you back here? “Starscream, what’s going on?”

• You cling to his servos as he bends and lowers you to your feet, holding on as he pulls his hand away. He can’t look at you, not while you’re staring up at him in alarm. Like you don’t understand, even though you must. Wings lifting stiffly, he forces his expression to empty, reaching for that cold indifference that’s been his armor so long. “Go home, human.”

• Your throat goes dry as you look up at those icy optics staring down at you. There’s no contempt in that stare, no bemusement. Nothing at all. It’s utterly empty and that cuts you clean to the bone, because he doesn’t care at all. He’d finally gotten tired of you? It’s what you wanted, right? A chance to escape, but you just feel lost. And as he turns and walks away without a look back, you can’t move. He leaps, transforming into that jet and it’s beautiful to watch even as panic paralyzes you. A rain drop lands on your cheek, the thunder lost to the scream of his turbines, your own cry too late. “Star?"

Previous Next

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 191 }

your heart belongs to me.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: an unedited, self indulgent, 18+ thirst post based on some readers’ asks; MINORS DON’T INTERACT!

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: I wanna be kissed my jinwoo until i find it difficult to breathe 🤤 thank you for the recent food

anonymous said: .... Yandere Jinwoo who pulls you into a mating press, not stopping until you're shaking, cumming, and squirting from the sheer amount of effort and strength jinwoo's emitting. Bro goes on and on like a desperate man until you can't speak and you can't process anything coherently anymore..... Rarararararrararararaa.... I despise him he's so hot I'm literally gigging in the corner whenever i see his cute ass face🫣

{ … }

your beloved boyfriend was just relaxing in bed, reading a novel as his grey eyes were honed in on the pages.

yet something about him made him appear extra delectable today. you stand by the doorway, eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of sung jinwoo. he looked extremely cozy tonight, dressed in a loose t-shirt that was raised ever so slightly as you caught sight of those delicious abs. his sweatpants hung loosely against his hips, and you could see the prominent v shape coupled along with a happy trail that matched his ebony locks of hair.

there was a discomfort felt between your legs, and you could feel your panties turning damp from how aroused you became. knowing that tonight would be the time where you were needy for your incredibly sexy hunter lover, you made your first move, literally pouncing on him.

jinwoo feels your added weight on the bed and sets aside his book. he gives you a sweet smile, but upon seeing your dilated eyes and the way you practically crawled towards him in the bed, his gaze loses all traces of sweetness.

“what’s this?” his voice becomes a deep rumble, letting out your name as he sits back in bed, feeling you straddling his waist before leaning forward. you kept silent, pressing your lips against jinwoo’s in a chaste kiss before purposely biting down on his bottom lip. a gasp was heard coming from your boyfriend when you suddenly licked and sucked at his bottom lip.

and that was all the urging your boyfriend needed to lose all of his inhibitions.

your giggle fills at the air when jinwoo immediately grips at your waist before tossing you against the bed. you give him a cheshire cat grin, hands already clutching at the wrinkled comforter as jinwoo was now hovering over the entirety of your body, his large hand gripping at the front of your oversized shirt before (quite literally) ripping it off of your frame.

you gasp upon feeling the cool, a.c. air against your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all across it as jinwoo’s eyes glowed purple at the sight of your nearly naked form, your heaving breasts revealed to him as you were only left in your panties.

“no bra? naughty girl…” jinwoo’s chuckle turns darker as he places his large hands over your breasts, admiring how perfect they fit against his hand. when he gives one of them a squeeze while playing with your hardened nipples, you end up tossing your head back in response.

“j-jinwoo… fuck.”

he hums before leaning down to give its twin some attention, this time using his mouth. he latches on to your hardened nub and curls his tongue around it, suckling at them as you felt your panties become even more ruined in response.

a string of curses escapes from your parted lips, causing you to delve your fingers into his hair. jinwoo spends a considerable amount of time littering your breasts with love bites and heated kisses, making sure that they both received equal attention before moving on to taste a different part of you.

jinwoo slides down your body, purposely running his tented sweatpants down your bare leg as you shivered in response to such hedonistic friction. he chuckles at your flustered expression, not stopping until he pulls your legs toward the edge of the bed. with jinwoo situated on the ground, he grips at the waistband of your panties with his teeth, pulling them off completely with an expertise built from spending 3 plus years fucking and making love to you.

he breathes in the scent of your cunt, admiring the scent of your arousal before tracing his lips all across your pussy lips. the sensation of his tongue felt tracing at your core makes you react immediately, legs spreading as you gripped at his dark hair, feeling the way jinwoo devours you like a man starved.

his groans and grunts were felt against your aching sex, causing pleasurable vibrations to course through you as you cried out to him. only when he begins thrusting his thick fingers in and out of you all while continuing to devour you with his hot mouth did you feel your release quickly approaching.

yet before your walls could clench around his tongue and fingers-

before you could spill your juices within his awaiting mouth-

jinwoo pulls away from you.

you sob at the loss of him, your release already beginning to recede as you kept begging for him to make you cum.

“please j-jin, p-please! i need to cum so badly, i was so close, sososososo close- mmph!”

jinwoo interrupts your begging and whines with a kiss against your lips, forcing you to taste yourself as his tongue swirls around the hot cavern of your mouth. you moan at how erotic this all was as you could taste your honeyed sweetness that still lingered against jinwoo’s lips.

“what a needy girl you are…” your mind was dimly aware of how jinwoo was naked now, pressing his cock against your entrance momentarily before gripping at your two legs as he places them both against his shoulders. and it was in this position that jinwoo thrusts his thick and pulsating cock inside of you, his balls hitting at your ass as he keeps you in a mating press.

“sorry, but the only thing i’ll allow you to cum on is on this cock.”

feeling how deep he was makes your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head, the squelching sounds made from the way jinwoo fucks you into the bed making you moan at such a sinful sensation. the way his cock was felt pressed against your swollen bundle of nerves each time he thrusts back into you was what makes you lose it within seconds, feeling such a powerful climax overtaking your body as you released yourself against him, the fluids seeming to rush out of you in waves. your intense release ends up leaving jinwoo gasping as he stills his hips inside of you, still remaining erect as his dilated eyes take in the sight of the spot where you two remained connected.

the warm yet clear fluid continues to run down the entire length of his cock, and it was fascinating to jinwoo as he felt the same fluids drip down the length of his dick and into the comforters settled on the bed. an all encompassing smirk was seen settled across jinwoo’s features when he realized what you had done. “sarang, did you just squirt for the first time?”

you weren’t even aware of his words, so caught up in the sheer intensity of your release that your expression appeared almost drunk. as if understanding your less than coherent state, the shadow monarch lets out a rich chuckle before gripping at your ankles once more, proceeding to pound his cock in and out of your swollen cunt at an even faster pace, clearly eager to make you squirt again.

“such a good girl for me. how about i make you squirt the whole night? would that make my princess happy?”

you only managed to nod in response to his question, repeating his name in a never-ending mantra, allowing jinwoo to dominate your body as he kept you in a mating press for hours on end, practically ruining your bed by the time he was done with you ♡

a.n. - phew this was just pure and utter self indulgence on my end. need jinwoo to do me like this for real 🥵🔥

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[solbaby7]

someone requested [ Manhattan + salt rim + neat ] and I accidentally deleted it but i remembered!!

warnings: leashes (yup like for dogs 🤭) minors dni, thank you thank you thank you thank you for this request 🥵

—

Azriel knew it was going to be an issue—you spending so much time with Nesta Archeron.

He’d found it cute at first. His sweet girl making friends with someone as prickly as death incarnate, until he’d started noticing the changes. How kind words shift into a biting wit; adopting a darker kind of humor that leaves his brows raised and tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “Come bunny, it’s time to get out of bed.”

Perhaps it’s in that learned behavior where you find the gall to part your lips and mutter, “No, I’m not going.”

It’s surprising—your defiance. Enough for him to pause in the middle of his morning routine, thigh holsters half buckled with an array of sharpened daggers and switchblades laid out before him. “Say that again?”

“To training,” You elaborate, mindlessly toying with the fraying edges of your nail varnish. Soft sheets swallow you whole, thick pillows and duvets emitting Azriel’s comforting scent all around you. “I’m not going today.”

For only a second he falters before his movements start up again, deft fingers easily buckling strips of leather and filling the slots with weapons. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t want to sweat under the burning sun all fucking day.” Your eyes are too busy rolling at the thought to notice the tick of Azriel’s jaw, the strained way he tightens his belt. “Nes and I are going shopping after brunch instead.”

“Oh?” There’s a pause, a tense silence that forces you to lean up on your elbows, neck craning to peer over at the Illyrian. Though, Azriel’s not getting ready anymore and he’s lounging too comfortably for someone who’d been adamant on following the guidelines of his rigorous schedule. The clock tick, tick, ticks away and for some reason he’s not reaching for his top or the crossbody holsters he slides on after. His hair is still dripping wet from his shower, not even bothering to work his styling pomade through. “Says who?”

He just sits there—watching, waiting. Staring at you like one of the prisoners he chains up in his dungeons; prodding at the barriers of their restraint until the spymaster tore it to shreds. You hate how well it works, chipping away at the fortified walls you’d built in your new friendships. How easily Azriel’s able to walk up to those borders and send them crumbling down with nothing more than a look.

It should be embarrassing, the affect he has on you. The way one arched brow has your spine instinctively straightening, throat rolling with a swallow as you struggle to muster up the same confidence that burned through you just moments ago. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

Azriel hums low in his chest, shoulders relaxing and head nodding once, twice, three times before that stoic expression melts into understanding. “I see, that’s probably my fault. Got a touch lenient—allowed room for a little too much…hope.”

“Hope?”

Alarm bells begin ringing the further he settles in the chair, thick thighs spreading wide and veiny forearms eat up the space along the armrest. “Hope,” he agrees. “Give a good pet a little too much freedom—too much hope and all the necessary structure begins to waver.” You’re caught like a fly in a trap, limbs sticking to the carefully spun webs Az’s woven until your struggle only leaves the metaphorical ropes twisting and knotting tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m a good trainer. Won’t let you slack for a second—even if you do bat those pretty lashes up at me.”

Your mouth goes dry when his wrist flicks, two fingers beckoning you closer in silent command. A part of you hesitates; resists the rigorous discipline and rules put in place to keep you safe. Protected. But Nesta said that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself without some overgrown bat looming over your shoulder. Right?

You obey anyway, praying that Azriel doesn’t hold the contemplation against you.

The Mother doesn’t seem to hear your plea, too occupied with more deserving persons to spare a second glance at the predicament you’d weaseled your way into. Each step closer feels like knowing wrong and choosing the sin anyway, solidifying your fate and dealing your destiny with the devil for all time. “Sit.”

A huffy breath of irritation before you ease down to your knees, leaning your weight back against your calves. “I’m not some fucking dog.”

“No, you aren’t,” His hand smells of body wash when a thumb runs over the curve of your cheek, blunt nail tracing against the shape of your mouth. It’s almost sweet, toeing the line of possibly romantic when you hear it—the squeaky strain of fresh leather. The cool bite of the latch registers too late, a metallic click locking it in place. “But lately you’ve been acting like one. My rabid mutt.”

Manicured nails grip at the newest accessory but it doesn’t budge no matter how much you tug at it. Your cheeks flame, a mix of fury and pure embarrassment from the rush of arousal that soils your panties when each breath grows just a bit labored. “You fucking collared me?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll buy a muzzle to match.” He catches on to the way your thighs clench together, lips snapping shut as your brain fights to decide whether you want to scream back a “fuck you” or “fuck me”.

You land somewhere in the middle, words stern but tone leaking with curiosity. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A hellish grin splits across the handsome lines of his face, like a wolf straining in the seams of sheep’s clothing. “Try me.” He’s lost the concept to time when such fun prey has found itself stuck in his crosshairs. Such a sweet lamb should know better than to wander away from its shepherd—heaven forbid something should happen to you. “Test me, I dare you. I’ll walk you through town like some purebred if you keep acting like you weren’t taught to act with decorum.”

He means it too. You know he does. Even after all these years, you still had yet to hear words Azriel’s didn’t back up with action. Instantly, your eyes lower, head bowing in order to conceal the pinpricked pupils that dialate with desire. It burns in your belly, a cacophony of fantasies lashing against your eyelids at warp speed.

You in your shiny collar, name engraved on the customized nameplate with Azriel’s information on the back right under “If Found, Return To”

It’s purely involuntary, the desperate whimper that cuts through the bedchambers and Azriel pats at your head like some pampered pup in need of comfort. Offering love and fond coos when you easily correct the behaviors he doesn’t enjoy.

Obedient. Disciplined. Loyal. His.

“There’s a good girl. Keep that up and I’ll give you a treat.”

[mcondance]

he loves me (lyzel in e flat) — tim laflour

tim x fem!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, general discussion of tim sex wise, missionary, dirty talk, praise-ish, he says he loves you uh that's it, it’s a lot of elaboration abt how much he loves sex with you LMAO, title from this song (i love you jill scott <3)

tim likes sex, to get that out of the way. on the outside and to people who don’t know him, he’s a little dumb, a little odd and he seems like he’d fumble around these types of things, but he does not.

tim likes sex with you, way more than he should.

he likes digging in your guts, bumping your body up the bed every time his hips kiss the back of your legs, sticky and slippery from the mix of fluids flowing from you two.

with deep purrs pushed hard from his chest, the sounds of a man who’s in love with what he’s doing, he splits you open so good, ripping pathetic, guttural cries out of you, whiny moans that make fucking you so alluring. your arms clasp tight around his neck and you’re trying to ground yourself, and it’s always in vain, fingers gripping your own arms so tight the skin caves.

“belong here, baby, belong inside you, so so deep in you, go crazy when i don’t get to feel you,” he coos, almost singing it, his naturally ditzy tone laying an innocently genuine feel over his obsessed words. it's ridiculously pathetic, his admission of devotion to your cunt, to the clenches and drooling and soaking that your pussy delivers to him. velvety and gripping, he's a fool for it.

he’s telling the truth though, and you know it. you’ve seen what happens to him when he goes too long without bullying your pussy, fucking you like he hates you, like you owe him something. he gets all aggy, eyes all glossy and spaced out and he’s ticked off by the smallest things.

he needs to get his dick wet, needs you to get it wet, to let him fuck your body into the mattress and listen to your moans that have turned into pathetic little cries, spewing from your mouth with every jerk of his hips against you. hot skin hitting against yours, unforgiving thrusts sending shockwaves through your whole body, it's by pure luck that you and tim met, that you get to be pounded into his bed every time he gets the chance.

your pussy sings to him with every move he makes, honeyed melodies ringing out through the room, and it’s idyllic, perfect and so far from beautiful yet right there.

he fucks you like both need it, hard and messy like he loves what he’s doing to you.

he does love what he’s doing to you.

turning his head to the side so he knows you can hear him even over your enraptured keens, he lets his mouth loose again— "i love you, y'know, love you and your pussy so much, 's my favorite thing in the whole world, always so wet and tight and ready for me, always excited that i get to fuck you." he's elated, sure in the fact that you belong to him, that you are his to stretch and pound and fuck.

his lip ring is cold against your face and it doesn’t do much to help; it makes it worse, makes you really compute again that you’re being fucked dumb by a pretty punk who’s obsessed with fucking you.

it all sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you're grasping tighter over his back, hands raking down the muscle. you almost growl, so keyed up and overwhelmed with feeling, good fucking feeling, rocking up the bed with every roll of his hips. tim's love for sex has opened you up, allowed you to partake in it at your most vulnerable level, unashamed and liberated in your euphoria.

he likes the way you take his dick, how you spread your legs and make space for him between them, how you let him fuck you to his heart's content, let him express his need inside you.

his big blues have drifted to something much darker, blue-black windows looking down at one of the best parts of it all, to where ropes of your cream span from your slick lips to his wild hair.

he huffs out a laugh, breathing "yeah, look at that,” dark eyes hazy and gleaming.

he knows you're being fucked too good to even give a fuck about what it looks like, but he's a talker, and he’s having so much fun, and the sight is just so fucking disgusting that he has to say something; something else that feels like a reward, like a deity has blessed him with it, the gift of sex that he so confidently uses, whenever he wants.

tim loves fucking you, loves dwarfing your body with his intimidating size, loves the sounds you make, loves the sounds your bodies make as they meet again and again, as he nestles his cock right where you both know it belongs.

devoted is what he is, a regular fiend, only made worse by the way you fit so tight around him. every push into you is so good to him, brain taken over by how it feels to be deep inside your welcoming pussy.

every little jerk and jump, every melodic whine, every word your slur into his neck, it’s everything to him.

[lovebugism]

Random conversations with rockstar eddie while high that obviously lead to something dirty 👀

ty for requesting :D — eddie asks you who you'd most want to have a threesome with and confessions are shared (band!au, established relationship, mentions of weed and smut 18+, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It started out all cute, in your defense. 

The tour bus was parked in Colorado for the next couple of nights, and the mountains and trees were aflame with a very distinct golden color. You and Eddie chose to bask in the orange while the rest of the band spent the evening in the hotel.

Your night alone was an innocent one — despite the cheeky taunts and whistles from the rest of Corroded Coffin. Squished together in your bunk, the two of you got high and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing all at once. 

You share one pillow, noses mere inches apart, just barely fitting together on the small mattress. The skunky smell of weed and Eddie’s musky cologne is all-consuming, suffocating in the best way. 

Your poorly concealed giggles fill the silence of the bus as you press your palm against Eddie’s pale one, comparing the size difference between the two. It shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does.

“Would you still love me if Roger Taylor asked you out?” Eddie blurts, growing suddenly serious about the question that only just popped into his mind. 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He thought it, and the words just sorta spilled from his mouth.

Your brows pinch at the sudden question, though there’s still a small smile on your face. You can’t be sure where he’s coming from — if it’s the weed or if he remembers the one time you very drunkenly confessed to having a decade-long obsession with the blonde-haired drummer in your girlhood.

“What?” you wonder, still giggling.

“I mean, like, if he showed up to one of our shows and asked you out, would you say yes?”

You ponder the question. For a few seconds too long, maybe. Mostly because it takes you a little while to understand him through the brain fog.

“Well… no,” you answer finally, voice wavering as your eyes flit to the darkened ceiling.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. Your gaze returns to his chocolate one, made a darker shade from the black night — they sparkle, still. A grin blooms on your face. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d let me fuck him. Just one time.”

You’re obviously kidding. It’s just a stupid joke made more evident by the dumb, lopsided smile on your face and the pointer finger you hold up to your nose.

Eddie knows this, and he’s sporting his own rosy grin accordingly. A fleeting thought sears his brain. It bubbles up in his throat and tumbles out before he can stop it.

“Only if I get to watch,” he retorts, all boyish and quiet. 

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But then again, it usually is. You decide to toe the line, anyway. “Really?” you hum, shifting on the mattress to face him more intently.

The boy shrugs while you smooth ornery curls from his temple. “Yeah. You’re hot. He’s hot. One plus one equals two… Or whatever that expression is.”

“Fair,” you concede, laughing still.

“Alright. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhmm,” he nods sloppily against the pillow. “Who would you wanna have a threesome with? Like, in a different universe or whatever, ‘cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to share you in real life.”

Again, you giggle. You can’t seem to stop, apparently. You answer quicker than either of you expect.

“Umm… Maybe Nancy,” you answer with a strange sort of nonchalance. “She’s hot… And also she looks like she slaps really hard.”

Eddie’s brain goes blank. And not from the weed this time.

He knew Nancy. Vaguely. Mostly from you. She’s your old friend from high school that you reconnect with every couple of months. You don’t talk crazy often — ‘cause life is too busy for an up-and-coming rockstar and Indiana’s best journalist — but the connection is never truly lost.

And it’s not just that you chose Nancy without having to think about it very hard. He just wasn’t expecting it to be someone you knew in real life. Someone so tangible. That Roger Taylor scenario would only ever happen in wet dreams — his, namely — but Nancy Wheeler? That could be arranged.

The thought alone has him reeling.

You watch him get in his head about the whole thing, though maybe the faraway look in his eyes is just from the weed.

“Well?” you press with an urging lilt and a girlish grin. “You’re turn, Eds. Don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

He goes quiet, which is very unlike your loudmouth boy. He thinks before he speaks, measures his reply before he answers. His absentminded fingers trace up and down the length of your arm all the while, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“What about Steve?” he wonders with a painfully nonchalant inflection.

Your face screws up instantaneously. You don’t mean to act as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “Steve?” you blurt, louder than you meant to. “Like… Steve Steve?”

As in your ex-boyfriend Steve.

As in one of his best friends Steve.

As in roommate Steve the couple weeks out of the year you two aren’t on the road.

It makes your head spin something fierce.

“There another Steve I don’t know about?” Eddie jokes.

Brows still pinched and face still twisted, you question, “So you wanna… fuck Steve? Like, Steve The Hair Harrington?”

“You did,” the boy shrugs, then fakes a soft pout. “Sometimes I feel left out…”

You press your palm to his chest, pushing him playfully away. His arm curls around your back to pull you close again. The proximity is lesser now, so much so that the tips of your nose brush together and your skunky breaths entwine.

It all feels so much heavier now. The intensity of the moment makes you fight back a shiver crawling up your spine. Eddie’s palm smooths up and down the length of it in a slow and measured rhythm. It does little to ease your breathlessness.

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun,” the boy concludes with a sudden seriousness. His voice is as low as his eyelids. “And I think it’d be real hot to watch him fuck you… ‘Cause we both know he can’t make you cum like I can. Can he, doll?”

Your thighs clench together instinctually, as though to quell the sudden ache pounding between them. You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Eddie’s rosy lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile at your honeyed reaction. He continues — half because the high has loosened his tongue and half because he wants to see how flustered he can make you.

“And then he can watch you fall apart on my dick after, yeah?” he questions like you’re in any space to answer him. “Maybe I can give him a few pointers… Teach him how to fuck you properly, you know?”

The distant ache between your thighs has grown to a full bloom now. It’s a little embarrassing how effortlessly he can drive you crazy — how quickly he can make you drench your panties. You might’ve been a little shameful about it if you couldn’t feel his cock stiffening against your hip.

“Fuck, Eds…” you sigh, the words tumbling from your mouth without thinking. 

With parted lips, you drift towards the boy and his unkissed mouth. He juts his chin slightly backward, only lets your plush bottom lips graze together. You don’t know why he’s teasing you. You’re already a puddle at his feet.

With a smirk and an all-consuming touch along your spine, he makes a quiet promise. “And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

[bunnysnuff]

Study session interrupted.

Pairing: Elphaba Throbb x reader.

Trigger warnings: none.

Requests.

It was a quiet afternoon in Elphaba’s room. The green walls, adorned with a few scattered books and a flickering candle, cast a soft glow over the space. You and Elphaba were sitting at her desk, books and papers spread out in front of you as you both tried to focus on the assignments at hand. The sound of the quill scratching against the parchment was the only noise, aside from the occasional rustle of pages.

You had been studying for what felt like hours, but your mind kept drifting. Every now and then, you found yourself glancing over at Elphaba. She was so focused, her sharp eyes scanning the pages, the dim light casting shadows that only made her look even more ethereal.

“You’re staring again,” Elphaba said, her voice a teasing drawl, her green eyes lifting from the page to meet yours.

You blinked, a little startled. “Am I?”

She smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. “You know, you really should stop doing that. It's distracting.”

“Distracting, huh?” you asked, leaning in a little closer. “I didn’t know I had that kind of power over you.”

Elphaba arched an eyebrow, the challenge in her expression as clear as ever. “Oh, you definitely do,” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Before you could respond, your face broke into a grin. “You’re such a tease, Elphie.”

Her lips quirked, and with a swift motion, she set her quill down, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The next thing you knew, she was leaning in, her breath warm on your lips.

You couldn't resist anymore. You closed the gap between you, lips meeting hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle at first—just a quiet affirmation of your feelings—but as she responded, it deepened, the warmth between you both intensifying.

Just as Elphaba’s hand reached to cup your face, the door to her room creaked open.

“Hey, Elphie, I—” Glinda’s voice trailed off, her wide eyes locking on the scene before her. Her hand froze on the doorknob, and she stared at the two of you, her mouth slightly open in exaggerated surprise. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

You and Elphaba quickly pulled apart, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Elphaba’s green skin flushed darker, a subtle shade of red creeping across her face. She turned away, trying to hide her flustered expression behind her hands.

Glinda, ever the dramatic one, stepped fully into the room, crossing her arms over her chest and looking between the two of you with a teasing grin. “You know, I never took you for a couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing at Elphaba, who was avoiding eye contact with both of you. “We weren’t doing anything,” you said quickly, although your tone didn’t help much in convincing anyone.

Elphaba shot you a look that could only be described as ‘please help me,’ and for a moment, you almost wanted to disappear into the floor.

Glinda, still grinning, glanced at the desk and the scattered papers. “Right. So, studying, huh? I mean, I can see the study materials… but that doesn’t explain the heavy make-out session.”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “We were just... taking a break.”

“Elphaba, taking breaks? Now that’s a surprise,” Glinda teased, crossing her arms.

“Alright, alright, we get it, Glinda,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You’ve made your point.”

There was a pause before you broke the awkward tension with a grin. “But if you’re gonna interrupt, at least bring snacks next time. A little courtesy goes a long way.”

Elphaba snorted, her earlier embarrassment fading as she glanced at you, her lips curling in an amused smile. “You’re terrible.”

“And yet, you love me,” you said, winking at her.

Glinda, clearly done with her teasing, raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you two to... study. But next time, maybe knock before diving into the room like that. I don’t need to witness all your private moments.”

“Got it, Glinda,” you said, still trying to get your composure back.

Glinda smiled and gave a dramatic wave. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, not judging you,” she added with an exaggerated wink as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Once she was gone, you turned back to Elphaba, who was trying to suppress a chuckle. “Well, that was something,” you said, brushing your fingers through your hair.

Elphaba shook her head, a small smile lingering on her lips. “We really need to work on our privacy skills.”

“Agreed,” you said, settling back into your seat. “But for now… what were we saying before all that?”

Elphaba raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I believe we were about to continue where we left off… without interruptions, of course.”

“Right,” you grinned, leaning in once again, knowing full well that no matter how many times Glinda walked in, you’d always find your way back to Elphaba.

[domm1etae]

Can I request an Ateez Yeosang x Fan Gf reader? Where she asks him to go super rough on her since all they do is soft sex, and she embarrassed to ask. He of course says yes but as he starts to go rough she feels a different feeling and starts to squirt and both reader and Yeosang are surprised. Etc until he ends up cumming in her so much

When Soft Meets Rough

yeosang x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.1k

When Yeosang goes feral after his girl finally asks him to go rough on her, they both discover a whole new level of pleasure they didn’t know they needed

nsfw tags under

m/f, top yeosang, reader bottom, rough sex, gentle dom to rough dom, squirting, praise kink, intense sensations, intimate closeness, begging, first time going rough, passionate kissing, slight teasing, aftercare

author's note: aaaah, I got sooo many requests, I'm trying my best to write them as fast as possible!

You and Yeosang were cuddled up on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background as the two of you exchanged lazy kisses. His fingers drew gentle circles on your hip while his other hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing your skin in soothing motions. Even in these simple, close moments, you felt the familiar warmth spreading through your chest, a feeling you’d come to know well since being with him.

Yeosang had always been gentle with you, always attentive and careful, as if you were something precious to him. The two of you often ended up like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the quiet together. But tonight, there was a tension inside you, a desire that made your heart beat faster, something more than the usual butterflies he gave you.

As he pressed a kiss to your neck, you felt a shiver run down your spine, and you found yourself wanting something different. You wanted him to lose control, to be rougher and less careful. It felt embarrassing to even think about, but the idea had been building up for weeks, leaving you breathless every time you imagined it. Finally, after gathering the courage, you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

“Yeosang…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you with that soft smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. “What is it, love?”

You hesitated, searching his gaze. “Could you…” Your cheeks heated up, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the nervous tremor in your voice. “I want you to… maybe go a bit rougher tonight.”

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flashing across his face before his expression softened into something unreadable. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Rougher, huh?” he teased, his voice low and edged with excitement. “You could’ve asked sooner.”

Your stomach fluttered, nerves mixing with anticipation. Before you could reply, he swept you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom and laying you gently on the bed. He settled beside you, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist as he looked down at you, his gaze darker now. His lips captured yours in a kiss, deeper than usual, his hands sliding over your body with more intent.

As he kissed down your neck, he murmured against your skin, “Tell me how much you want this.”

A soft moan escaped you, your body arching into him. “Yeosang, I want you… so badly.” The words came out in a breathless whisper, your cheeks flushing with need as he moved lower, his hands slipping under your shirt and sliding it up over your head. His eyes darkened as they roamed over the black lace of your bra, his fingertips grazing over the fabric, making you shiver beneath him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. The feeling of his lips trailing down your skin sent tingles through your entire body, leaving you breathless. When he tugged at the hem of your shorts, you raised your hips to help him slide them off, leaving you in your matching lace underwear. His gaze became hungrier, and you felt a thrill rush through you.

He pulled his shirt off, revealing the lean, toned muscle underneath, his eyes never leaving yours. You reached out, fingers tracing along the lines of his torso, admiring the way he looked as he hovered over you, his gaze burning with desire. As he leaned down, his lips found yours again, his body pressing you firmly against the mattress, making you feel trapped in the most thrilling way.

When he finally slid your panties to the side, you felt your breath hitch as he positioned himself at your entrance, his length pressing against you. He entered you slowly, his grip on your thighs firm as he spread them further, his pace starting out controlled. But then, as if giving in to the same fire that had been building in you, he began to thrust harder, each movement rougher, deeper, sending waves of pleasure through you with each stroke.

A moan slipped from your lips as he moved faster, his breathing growing heavier with every thrust. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way his cock filled you completely—it was overwhelming. You could feel every inch of him, the way he stretched you, his pace unrelenting, making you tremble beneath him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the pleasure so intense it made you gasp, and a strange, new sensation began to build inside you, something different and more powerful than you’d ever felt before. You tried to hold it back, embarrassed, but as he hit deeper, you couldn’t control it. With a cry, you felt yourself release, a wetness coating him as you looked up in shock, your cheeks flushed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Yeosang paused for a second, his eyes widening as he looked down at you, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Did you just…?” His voice was filled with surprise and pride, his hand moving to your cheek. “You liked it that much, huh?”

You nodded shyly, unable to find words as he began moving again, picking up his pace even more. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming rougher, his breathing ragged as he lost himself in the sensation. Each thrust sent you spiraling, your body arching against him, your moans filling the room as he drove you higher and higher.

The heat built between you, each thrust filling you with pleasure so intense you felt like you were floating. His pace quickened, his body moving against yours with an urgency that made you dizzy, and you could tell he was close, his grip on you almost desperate.

“Oh god, Yeosang, I’m—” you managed to gasp out, but he cut you off with another deep thrust, his own voice low and rough as he moaned your name. He filled you completely, his release spilling into you as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, savoring the shared moment as you came down together.

When he finally pulled back, he looked at you with that same soft smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I didn’t know you could… feel that way,” he murmured with a teasing smile, pulling you close for one last gentle kiss.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Guess you bring out a different side of me.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you as you lay together, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. “Well, next time, don’t be shy to ask for what you want.”