#then he walked into the hall and was like 'Everyone look at him'

[azrielsdove]

Fated Souls

Warnings: Angst, Light Smut, 18+

***

You observed the celebration around you, watching your friends as they interacted with one another. You brought your wine glass to your lips, taking another slow sip. You had chosen to stick to the edges of the room for this gathering. It was easier that way. You didn’t have to pretend that your heart wasn’t being tortured with every beat it made.

Truthfully, you’d lost count of what glass of wine this was. You enjoyed the way the edges of the room blurred the more you drank, allowing you to pretend it’s all a horrid nightmare instead of your devastating reality.

Until your eyes caught upon them once again. You scowled, tipping your head back as you emptied your drink. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him smile down at her, his hand itching to hold onto her waist. She looked at him with such adoration that you’d have to be brainless to miss it. Everyone knew about the Shadowsinger and middle Archeron sister. You could argue that they turned a blind eye because they wished to see the pair happy, if it weren’t for the fact that their mates were just as widely known.

You rolled your eyes as she let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on the chest of the male that was supposed to be fated to you. Not that he cared. You were tired of this, the constant pining for someone who would never want you. Growing sick of their love-show, you slipped quietly from the room. No one noticed, or if they did they didn’t care. You had become quite a depressing specimen since Elain entered your life.

And since the mating bond snapped to Azriel, who only had eyes for her. Your friends did not know how to speak to you these days, always teetering in awkward conversation. They looked at you as if they stared too close you’d shatter into a thousand pieces. You were fragile, breakable.

It wasn’t always that way. Before this you were one of the fiercest warriors the Night Court had. You held your own against Cassian, earning a place of honor as his right hand. You were a force to be reckoned with. “The Lovely Demon” they called you, whispers of your power and beauty flitting throughout all of Prythian. It made sense for you to be fated to Azriel, the devilishly handsome spymaster. Together you were a death sentence.

A death sentence indeed. You moved throughout the halls, searching for the only one who understood your pain. You were pleased when you found him alone on one of the countless balconies in the House of Wind, leaning over the railing with his own drink in hand. You walked out to him, your heels clicking softy on the stone. He did not turn to look at you, even when you leaned on the railing next to him.

“Beautiful night,” he spoke first, looking intently at the stars. You followed his line of sight, humming in response. Nothing was beautiful to you now.

The two of you stood like that for some time, in an understanding silence. The silver fabric of your dress glowed under the starlight, a sight that would have filled you with confidence before. Now you hardly even noticed.

“Were they…” he began, trailing off. The words were too hard to be spoken aloud, but you knew what he meant. Were they all over each other again? You nodded, noting the way he slung his whiskey back at the action. “Do you think it will ever hurt less?”

Did you? You couldn’t imagine a world in which it didn’t, but surely it wouldn’t be this way forever. You turned to look at him then, taking in the defeated form of the once strong man you knew.

Lucien had been through a lot in the last five centuries. Hel, you all had. No one was the same as they once were. But your friend had suffered more than most, and yet his suffering was brushed under the rug by the Inner Circle. You loved them dearly, yes, yet they oftentimes only focused on themselves. In all honesty you had been the same way before. All that mattered was that you and your family were happy. Others problems could come later.

Once the bond snapped and Azriel chose to ignore it, things changed. You quickly discovered that he meant more to them than you did. Not that they didn’t try to help you, of course. Mor spent many a night lying in your bed with you, holding you tight while tears ran down your face. Nesta brought you books, the closest to acknowledging the messed up way Azriel was acting. But in the end, his feelings would always win. His happiness was more important than yours.

“I can only hope it does,” you finally answered. He finally turned to face you as well, the pain in his eyes like looking in a mirror.

“How do we cope?”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips. “When you find out, please let me know.”

You stared at each other for a long moment. Perhaps it was the copious amount of alcohol you had ingested, or perhaps it was the deep sadness controlling your heart, but you couldn’t help to notice how stunning Lucien was. Even in his pain drenched form he radiated a sense of power and confidence not many others could. You simply could not wrap your head around Elains distaste for him. You understood she had her own traumas to work through, but she could do worse. You knew Lucien would be kind to her.

Unfortunately she wanted your mate instead. The thought sends a wave of nausea through your body. Lucien noticed the subtle change in your already heartbroken demeanor, reaching his hand out to yours. You gladly held on to him, tears brimming in your eyes. “It’s not fair,” you whispered, the pain building up inside of you. He shook his head, pulling you close to him. He wrapped his arm tight around your waist, the hand on his other one tangling into your hair. You rested your face on the crook of his neck as gasping sobs tore through your very soul. Your nails dug into his shirt, holding onto him as if you were desperately searching for something to ground you. Something to remind you that life still existed, and it wasn’t just you lost in the tumultuous sea of your grief.

Your heart was falling apart. You knew you were not only going to lose Azriel if this continued. If he did fully choose Elain, and she him, your life would be over. Your family would gladly welcome them as one, celebrating their love and joy. You wouldn’t be able to live as you once did. You would flee the Night Court entirely, possibly leaving a note for Rhysand. You couldn’t be sure if he would even notice your absence in the wake of joy for his brother. Though could you blame him? Your soul sang for Azriel’s happiness. It was tearing you apart that it wasn’t with you.

You clung tighter to Lucien, hands shaking. His fingers were tracing patterns in your hair, trying to soothe your fractured mind. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmured. His words gave you pause, pulling your face off his shoulder to look up at him. His eyes were glassy, the tears he held refusing to be shed.

“What?” You asked, your voice weak. Lucien looked intently at you, moving his hand to cup your face. His thumb brushed away your tears, a deep sorrow in his eyes.

“It is wrong of him to allow you to be in pain as such. Elain, I give her more grace than most would. But Azriel?” He spoke the shadowsingers name as if it were a curse. “He has no excuse. You have been together centuries now, close as two can be. It should have been an instant joy, the mating bond between you. And yet,” he sighs deeply, thumb tracing your skin once more. “He’s gotten it into his head that he has to be with an Archeron like his brothers.” Your heart stutters as his thumb traces your bottom lip, a fire beginning to rage in his eyes. “He’s taken it upon himself to steal away my mate, while ignoring his own. A sorry thing, too, when she is as lovely as the night she so graciously represents.” His hand slides down to trace your jawline, fire burning your skin wherever he touched. This was wrong. You were both heartbroken, tossed aside by your mates. Friends, yes, but lovers? No. You should pull away, stop this before it goes too far. This was wr-

Oh.

Your head tilted back and your mouth opened slightly as Lucien’s lips met your neck. He kissed your skin like it was his honor to do so, like he would never get the chance again. His lips traveled up to your jaw, kissing slowly across your cheek. You couldn’t breathe as your eyes fluttered closed, lips ready for his.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your skin, nose brushing yours. You knew you should. If you allowed him to kiss you fully you would be fully admitting that Azriel was a lost hope and dream. Allowing another male to touch you in a way only your mate should.

Did it matter when that mate was too busy catching the attention of someone who wasn’t you? When all he wanted was her pretty little mouth on his? What is the harm in you finding what pleasure you could in the wake of the pain he had bestowed upon your very being?

“Kiss me.”

Lucien’s lips met yours with a fervor, an intensity you didn’t know you craved. Arousal began to spread through your body, a need for him that overtook all other thought. You pulled him closer, allowing him to cage you in against the balcony railing. You welcomed his tongue into your mouth, moaning quietly at the taste of him. His hands fell to your waist, one fisting the fabric as his restraint was rapidly fading. “He’s a fool for letting you go,” he said into your mouth, a shiver of delight running down your spine at his words.

“So is she.” His eyes flared and he kissed you again, his hand slowly working your dress up. You gasped as the cool night air danced across your heated skin. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this at all, much less right where anyone could see. The thought of someone catching you made your heart race with scandalous excitement. Not that anyone would have even noticed the two of you were gone.

Lucien’s hand flattened against your bare thigh, having pulled your dress high enough to expose the skin there. You felt alive under his touch, like you were finally being seen. You kissed him as if he were the sun and you were lost in an endless night. His fingers trailed to the inside of your thigh, a hum of surprise coming from him when he discovered you wore nothing under your gown. He found you quickly, pressing gently down on your clit. You gasped into his mouth, arching against him in pleasure. He worked you expertly, moving his fingers like he was put on this world just to please you.

His lips fell from yours, pressing quick kisses on your neck. “I want you hear you,” he whispered into your ear, allowing his thumb to take over the delicious pressure his fingers had been providing. He moved them down, sliding them gently into you. He curled them once he was deep inside, the feeling overpowering. You tilted your head back as you moaned his name, forgetting everything except for him. When Lucien touched you there was no pain from an unwanted mating bond, no thoughts of why you weren’t good enough. There was only you and him. He was painting fire into your soul, giving you the light you needed to live.

Until you felt him be ripped away from you as something cold wound it’s away around your body.

***

i have two separate endings for this! one for lucien and one for azriel <3. i just loved this idea and then couldnt decide which way i wanted it to go haha. i hope you enjoyyyyyy

[partiallysame]

Baby…. I am OBSESSED with everything you write!!! Can we get married?

So many thought about being Prices lil wife. Does wifey ever come to base to drop of anything? We all know the recruits would be drooling….

First of all the 'baby' im flustered. never been a 'baby' type but did i leave this in my asks to come back and look at it? maybe definitely. Also baby from someone younger than me?? please marry me sweetheart.

Ok ok ok I think Price’s lil wife used to stop by the base often maybe back when they were engaged or freshly married, before Price was put in charge of the 141. The first time you were there, he brought you. Wanted to show his missus where he works and spends his time when he’s away from her. So the first time anyone ever saw you, was arm in arm with Captain Price, a lil against regulations to show pda in uniform but he’s the Captain afterall. Then after that when you’d stop by to bring your husband some lunch, when you walked the halls alone, the recruits would fight each other to be your guide (no civilians walking alone). Alone time with a pretty girl? Please. Get in the good graces of the Captain’s wife. God yes. Maybe the 3rd or 4th time Price had to remind whichever young buck was staring at you in his office that they were dismissed (get the fuck out kid) Price decided he needed to be the one to come to the gate to get you. But that's no fun, you liked watching the young soldiers stutter over their words around you, nothing wrong with a little ego boost. Price was possessive, not jealous he didn’t care about that. But then you were there a couple times a week and now everyone knew you, not necessarily a bad thing until Price overheard some low rank losers talking about the many things they’d like to do to you in bed, he had enough. They were punished to the point they requested a new position away from him and your husband banned you from coming to base. Boooo. (He may or may not have fucked you in everyway he heard his soldiers describing that night)

[r0-boat]

Wrapped up gift

Happy Valentine's Day enjoy my gift with extra sugar!

This is part of a collab hosted by @dream-effect

Don't ever ask me to do this ever again

Whb!Seven Kings X Gn!Reader Fic

Cw: NSFW, gangbang, double penetration, spit roasting, cum drunk, bondage, name-calling, praise, multiple orgasms, uses of toys, biting, marking, creampie, choking, Crying kink.

WC: 5.1K

Everyone has been acting weird today…

Well, weirder than usual, many devils have avoided you, or that's what you think.

It's not like you expect the countless attention and gifts you are showered with every day, but it does raise a few questions when one day you can't even walk around town without a flock of devils around you, and the next, no one can hang out with you. 

Not even the kings. Who usually blows up your phone at all hours of the day?

Whether it's Asmodeus’s random confessions of love, Lucifer using your medical history as an excuse to talk to you, Beelzebub going on a random tangent about God knows what, Belphegor talking about anime, or Leviathan’s awkward ass small talk, only to spend another hour arguing with you over the phone, Mammon sending you pictures of expensive gifts he's about to buy you, or Satan angrily texting you why you haven't blocked everyone yet. Usually, your phone is flooded with any of these weirdos, but it was quiet and lonely for the first time since you came to hell.

With a sigh, you walk through the unusually empty halls of Gehenna’s Castle. The echoing of your footsteps mocked you till you reached your room. You push your door open when something fluttering down to the ground catches your eye: a pink envelope with a pink wax seal notice the fancy engraving on the and Asmodeus's sigil. It was ha and miss, especially the ‘interesting’ encounters you've had with him. His sigil became not only his symbol but also his calling card. You hesitate before sliding your thumb underneath the wax and opening the envelope. You sigh, scrunching your eyelids, preparing the potential nastiness you're about to unfold out of this letter…

Good fuck, why is it stained…?

‘Dear beloved, 

I prepared some Valentine's Day gifts for you at my castle. Let's enjoy Valentine's Day together!❤️

Constantly yearning, Asmodeus’

The letter was short and innocent, but you knew better than to trust anything from Asmodeus. The motherfucker couldn't even bother to text you, instead sending you an embroidered letter with an equally fancy-looking envelope doused in his normal scent.

Flashbacks of the past, heated in your eyes, prove what awaits you if you accept his invitation. But then again, you've never felt so lonely on a day you're supposed to be with the people you love. Also, Asmodeus was the only demon ever to mention Valentine's Day. You didn't even know today was a holiday until he mentioned it. You're not sure how you felt about the fact that no one even wanted to see you on Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was because Valentine's Day was an Earth holiday, not a holiday they usually celebrate in hell…Yeah, let's go with that. 

Knowing that he knew and wanted to spend time with you, your heart pumping with excitement, you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

You almost put down the leather until you realized what was in the bottom right-hand corner: an arrow pointing to the other side with the words ‘flip me ;)’ written in cursive.

On the back, you see what looks like a Latin chant. More of his handwriting was next to it: ‘simple teleportation spell to the front gates of my palace while you momentarily will feel a little dizzy; that's normal.’

Thank goodness for the grueling lessons Sitri would give you after you discovered that most demons use Latin as their mother tongue.

It was hard, but you resisted the temptation. As soon as your lips mouth the final syllable, your world spins. You almost lost your lunch as you instantly felt like you'd been propelled forward. One moment, you were in your bedroom in Gehenna, and the next, you stood on the red carpets of Abaddon, looking down that all-too-familiar hallway. 

Your eyes landed on a demon leaning against the wall, a black crop top resembling other biker jackets that reach the same length as the top, with spikes that adorn their collar and shoulders. His bulging muscles and choice of clothing looked scary, but as soon as Zalgrok saw them coming down the hallway, he smiled, picking his hands out of his pockets. “Hey, His Majesty is waiting for you.” Your eyes dart around the empty halls. But just like before, there were no signs of people. “Where is everybody?” The smile falters momentarily, his eyes darting to the ground, trying to think of an untrue excuse. “Asmodeus ordered everyone to leave, but he's in one of our private rooms with the other kings!” He smiled, pointing at one of the doors, a door to a room you haven't seen before. It looked different from fancy dark wood with golden embroidery.

This time, you walked up to the door. Zalgrok followed behind his hand, itching to reach out and touch you. He perhaps curled his fingers and interlocked them with yours.

He never gets to play with his Majesty's favorite toys, and yet here they are now, their ass swaying as they walk tantalizingly.

Before he could even react, it was too late. As quickly as you came in, you left. Zalgrok clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning on his heel, not wanting to stay longer to hear what would happen on the other side of that door.

The room was dark, with only as much light as the scattered candle could provide. Rose petals scattered all across the floor. A wide variety of sweets, chocolates, and fruits decorated the table, although some looked half-eaten.

Wrapped gift boxes litter the ground around the couch, some smaller than others. And at the center of it all, on a large bed, the devil of lust himself thrilled across the furniture as usual, his nude self dressed nicely in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and done into a bun. He smelled of Ivory and rose petals as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my dear~! Poor baby must have been so lonely…” he purred as he opened his arms to beckon you to climb into them when he saw you approach him. You've never been so happy to see Asmodeus that you practically skipped toward him, but before you could get close enough to even touch him, a repellent tentacle wrapped around your throat rather harshly, pulling you back with enough force to make you stumble into something. 

The tentacles slip from your throat, replacing it with a firm hand. 

“So, is this what you do when I'm not here, whore yourself out to the nearest devil?” Leviathan hissed in your ear. He loosened his hand just enough to have you turn your head to look at him. You could barely see anything but his scowling face, but you could have sworn he was wearing a suit, too. Your suspicions are quickly confirmed, your heart jumping out of your chest as you see another devil seem to come out of himself, finally showing himself. 

The buzzing of flies becomes louder until they coagulate into one spot, Beelzebub appears as the horde disperses. He was also wearing a suit; however, it seemed that he had either forgotten or did not care to finish his green tie, as it simply hung over his neck. He spent no time taking off the jacket part of his suit immediately before letting out a relieved sigh. “These things just aren't for me…Glad you liked the eye candy, though, babe.” You watch helplessly, trapped in Levi's arms, his hand still wrapped around your throat, only putting pressure when Beel gets close. “Touch them, and I'll kill you…” He snarls. 

"Hate it or not, you still agreed. It's too late to back out of it now, Leviathan." Lucifer, whom you had just noticed, had been sitting idly on the chairs facing the bed, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as if he were some vampire out of an old film before taking a sip.

“I can feel their delicious greed from here. They must love their gift." Mammon smirked. Levi's hands were long gone, replaced with his large, firm ones wandering to your butt. 

“Slut better like it because I'm not doing this again…” Satan growled, feeling something tug tightly around his palm.

Asmodeus finally got up from the bed. From the other side of him, you see Belphegor, his tie loose, one of the buttons of his polo shirt undone, and his head resting against his hand. Asmo squishes your cheeks together playfully, shaking your head. “Now it's time for our Valentine's Day gift!” The wicked smile on his face when he said that made your hair stand on end. Your eyes went wide as you felt the thundering in your chest; shoot…again, you had forgotten; if you had known days in advance, you would have prepared at least something. You sputter out pathetically, "But I didn't bring anything…I'm sorry." The kings around the room went silent before bursting out in laughter.

“They said ‘they didn't bring anything’… How cute!” One of them mocked. Even Asmodeus struggled to contain his laughter as the hand that squished your cheeks together rushed to cover his snickering smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt heat rush to your face. 

“Stop, don't laugh!! You don't understand!” You hiss to at least try to explain yourself, but instead, Satan approaches close enough to weave his hand in your hair and yank your head up to look at his wide-eyed, toothy grin.

“No toy; you don't understand.” He lets it go over your head before unraveling the thing around his palm. A red ribbon. 

“You are the gift.” The realization hits you like a truck before anything can truly sink in.

“Strip them," Leviathan commanded with a hiss as Mammon’s big hands grabbed the fabric of the outfit you picked out, thinking it would just be you and Asmodeus.

“So sorry we have to ruin your outfit, dear; it's cute, it really is, but it would look better on the floor." Asmodeus laughs, licking his lips as he hears the fabric begin to tear. 

“I'll buy them new clothes, something far better than these worthless rags!" Mammon grunted with each flex of his muscles. 

The last piece of clothing rips off you, falling to the floor and revealing lovely lace underneath. The kings in the room hummed in delight, except for Leviathan and Asmodeus, whose moods were opposite. 

“Fucking worthless slut…Just what were you planning on doing with this, huh?!” Leviathan grits his teeth, his hand harshly grabbing the delicate lace, caring little for how his claws dug holes into the fabric.

And, of course, Asmodeus responds with a catty grin, fueling that fire of jealousy.

“Beloved, if I had known you would come see me in this, why? I would have canceled plans and just had you all to myself.”

Satan snarled before finishing Mammon's job, working with Leviathan to tear apart the lacy undergarments, abandoning them in shreds of cloth on the floor. 

“Such heathens…” murmured Lucifer, ignoring the bulging tent in his dress pants. Watching every move Satan made as he used the ribbon to tie you. Even with Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub holding your arms and legs as Satan began to work, the binding, occasionally with a ribbon, would twist and fold with every imperfect knot. His eyebrows furrowed until he finally got up.

“Move, you're not doing it right." He ignored Satan's glare as he snatched the ribbon.

"It's like bandages; let me do this." Lucifer couldn't help but sneak a small kiss from your lips, his fangs catching your lips and causing soft, supple skin to bleed, which excited Beelzebub, who had been playing with your hand before. He didn't waste any time in fear that some other devil would steal a taste of your sweet red blood. He moved in as much as he could, forcing your head until his mouth could reach yours. His tongue glides across your bleeding lip, getting every last drop of your delicious blood. Beelzebub shivers at your taste, unconsciously trying to press his body against yours, tongue immediately moving into your mouth.

As Lucifer almost finished wrapping your body, you felt the ribbon tighten against your skin before the demon tied it into a neat little bow. Your hands and legs were still free, but not for long, as Satan handed Lucifer more ribbons for him to work with. You were too occupied with Beelzebub’s mouth and tongue to care that Mammon was holding your wrists together for Lucifer to tie up until a neat little bow.

Beelzebub, finally having his fill…for now, breaks away from you as Mammon and Satan move you toward the bed. “You look so beautiful like this." Whispered the Mammon, looking at you as if you were his greatest treasure. Satan snarls as he moves his body in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread, grinding his hips against yours. "Nice and fuckable; can't wait to leave you sore for weeks.”

You see Asmodeus off to the side, grabbing a present off the floor. "Is that for me? You ask, and he smiles. "Yes, well… Yes and no. It's for all of us~" With such precision, he picks at the ribbon at the top of the bow, slowly peeling it loose. The ribbon slips from its knot. He peels open the wrapping before putting his hand into the open box. Taking out a bar with two cuffs on the end. His thumb applies pressure as the bar springs longer.

“This will keep you nice and spread; we don't want you closing those pretty little legs now, do we?” Asmodeus smirks. Satan chuckles, practically snatching the spread bar from him, fastening each cuff onto your legs.

You had completely forgotten that you weren't the only one on the mattress when you felt a hand caress your cheek. 

“I hope you're grateful that we're doing all this work for you," Belphegor said, his other hand diving below to unbutton his belt. He scoots up till his crotch is right in your face. His hand palms his balls underneath his underwear before taking out his hardening cock. “Be a doll, won't you?” You know exactly what he wants as he touches your head, getting you for a taste. Belphegor’s head tilts back as he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, taking it deep just the way you knew he liked it. 

With your tongue swirling around the head, your mouth suckles his tip before taking him down to the base. His cock is squeezed by your throat with each suck.

Your legs quiver when you feel a hand around your throat again. Leviathan collects are done clearing out how well you're taking another demon down your throat. “Cock-hungry slut, look how well-trained you are at taking cock. How come you're not well-trained with me?” Leviathan's hand squeezes your throat as you gag around Belphegor’s cock. “Fuck, keep choking them! Damn throats getting tighter.”

With your choked-out sobs and moans, Satan, who has been grinding his bulge against your core this whole time, finally gives in, pissing out a string of cuss words, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't take it anymore! I'm going to fuck them! I'm going to fuck and feel them cum around my cock!” His hands shook, undoing his pants and sliding them down just enough. Take his cock out. His hard, leaking cock pressed against your entrance, and with one hand, he guided his cock till his head was pressing right against your hole, applying enough pressure to open for him. His other hand slid against your body, occasionally grasping at the ribbons. You squirmed as you felt the edges of the ribbons bite into you as they tightened against your skin.

“Don't struggle if you don't want the ribbons to hurt.” Lucifer scolded. Asmodeus added, “Be a good toy, and let us use you till you break.” You strain your eyes, trying to look to where the voices are coming from, and that's where you see Lucifer in a chair and Asmodeus standing across from the bed, both playing with themselves, Lucifer palming and groping his cock through his underwear and Asmodeus stroking himself, his pants long since abandoned as well as most of his suit.

Your cheek gets a light smack from Leviathan. “Hey! Don't look at them! Look at me! Or do I have to choke you harder?" 

This was all too much with Leviathan's hand on your throat, applying pressure before releasing and squeezing again all the while. Belphegor is now trying to fuck your throat, as Satan is now starting to ram his cock deeper inside, grabbing and clawing at your plush hips. His big demon dick forcing you open makes you take him.

It was all too much! Squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure and pain overwhelmed you so much you couldn't hold back your tears. 

“Fuck, they're crying! That's so hot…” Lucifer hissed, his palming motions now turning into jerking as he fucks his hand. Your legs shake as you can't hold back your orgasm, your screams muffled by the cock in your mouth as you squeeze Satan's cock for all He's worth. 

“Oooh fuuuck, never thought I'd find someone trying to scream with cock in their mouth so hot! Satan snarled, his hips driving into you, chasing his orgasm. 

"I'm going to cum! Gonna fill that throat, swallow it all, take it, all of it!” Belphegor growls, his balls heavy and full of seed slapping against your face.

Satan was not too far behind as his eyes were falling back. “I'm going to come too; we're going to soak you with demon cum! Take it all! Take all we fucking give you!

Belphegor's hand digs into your scalp as he's using your throat for his pleasure. He slams his hips against your face before stealing them. You swallow every last drop of his seed. As Satan slams one final time inside you, your walls suck every last drop of cum out of his cock.

Try not to cough and sputter, as Levi's hand is still around your throat.

Finally, you can breathe as the king of sloth removes his cock from your throat. And the king of wrath finally slips out of the core, watching his cum dribble out of you.

“Let me rest for a bit; I'm okay with watching for now…did way too much.” Belphegor groans as he rolls on the other side of the bed. Belphegor was still hard, but he had his fill. Why would he want to do more when he can just watch the show and get off till you get fucked by multiple people, just like the porno he would watch every night?

“You took them so well; you did so well…my sweet treasure.” Mammon purred with his hand, squeezing your chest and pinching your nipple.

“I bet the stupid whore is hungry for more…” Leviathan growls, his hand moving from your neck to your cheek. Getting into your face, he demanded you open your mouth. Practically forcing it open with his hand, he spits right onto your tongue. “Swallow." He commands, and you obey, having no other choice but to follow these demons every command as you are tied up and helpless.

“Fuck their mouth, Levi,” Beelzebub said, putting a hand on your head, running his hand through your now messed-up hair.

“They would like that, wouldn't they? Are you so much of a whore that you will take cock from any person who will give it to you, hm? Do you want to drink my cum?" Levi asked condescendingly, with a confident smile that made you want to spit in his face. But right now, as Mammon was taking the cops off your legs, preparing to turn you around onto your stomach as his hands were sneaking handfuls of your ass, you did not care.

With your hands tied behind your back, you couldn't provide any support for yourself as your face was shoved against the pillows.

You heard Asmodeus moan, “Mm, what a delicious sight~! I can still see Satan's cum running down your leg, but I bet that that sweet little body of yours can hold more.” Mammon smiles at his colleagues and lets out a devilish laugh. 

“That's the plan. Our sweet gift deserves everything they're given…”

“Spank that ass red," Satan adds. And Mammon is happy to oblige, as his big hand comes down on one of your cheeks hard and fast, a sharp smack fills the room, and it wasn't before long that another one comes down again on you. His big hands are filled with your ass as he spreads you open. He didn't have to prepare for his big size, as you were wet enough for him to slide in with one thrust; despite having Satan, you still stretched around him, letting out a shaky squeal.

Despite not wanting sloppy seconds from your mouth, Leviathan couldn't handle the way you looked right now as he began to unbutton his pants. He took off his belt, fastening it around your neck, using it as a leash and collar. He grabbed hold of the leather, lifting you prematurely before placing another pillow underneath your head. And another one underneath your chest, making sure you are comfortable before fully removing his pants and getting onto the bed.

“This is where you belong…This is your place…underneath beings that are far stronger than you. Being nothing but a fuck slave for demon cock!” Leviathan did not give you the same luxury as Belphegor when he waited for you to be ready; instead, Leviathan immediately began a brutal pace. Forcing you to take more and more of his cock with each thrust, pulling on his makeshift belt leash. All the while, he tugs on your hair. Desperately bucking his hips as much as he can.

Your whole body rocks back on Mammon's cock just to be bounced forward, getting choked by Leviathan's dick. The two demons kept up. The demon of greed behind you occasionally slams his hand down on your ass, making you squeal around Levi's cock. Mammon’s eyes roll back as he feels himself getting close. You're squeezing him home, milking his cock, and the slapping of his skin against yours was too much for him to take.

“You're so good; you feel so good! Doing such a great job for us! Take everything we give you! You deserve everything!" 

Beelzebub opens another gift box, ripping open its ribbon to reveal a vibrator. He smiles as he turns it on; his hand snakes underneath to press it between your legs. 

You squeal and squeeze around Levi's twitching cock and tighten around Memes as your legs shake from the vibrating pleasure and the cock relentlessly pounds into you. Another orgasm rips through you. Your moans alone were enough to make Leviathan cum down your throat while calling out your name. Levi pulls out a little too late. He's still cumming cock, jutting another pump on your face. 

“You're so beautiful, like this…." You think you heard Leviathan say, "You are too cum drunk to even think. 

With Levi now gone and Beel pulling the toy away from you for a moment, Mammon flips you onto your back. Putting your legs over his shoulders, jackhammering down inside you to chase his orgasm, your whole body shook and squirmed as you whimpered broken sentences that were only chuckled and awed at. The huge man above you slammed his hips one more time before stilling, filling you up more with his cum. He let his cock stay deep inside till he was finished before slowly pulling out. Even with how deep he was fucking you, his cum still spilled out of your hole.

Beelzebub licked his lips, watching Mammon off you. “Finally, let me taste you…”

"I've had enough watching..." You didn't even realize Lucifer had approached the bed until you felt him pull you into his lap. “Are you still here, Child of Adam? Surely, this isn't all you can take.” This cock sat between your legs. You unconsciously ground your hips down onto him as he helped you guide him inside. Beelzebub finally climbs onto the mattress, leaning his head forward until his tongue touches your collarbone. Beel turns on the vibrator once again, pressing it between your legs.

“Don't worry about moving. Just sit there and take it," Lucifer murmured, his sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe as he got a good handful on your hips and started to move and grind your body against him. Your walls squeezed and milked him as much as you could, all that delicious cum from the other kings drooling down his cock onto his balls. For a little while, Beelzebub playfully fiddled with the ribbons that stretched all across your body while he licked, sucked, and bit wherever he could fit his mouth.

You felt his tongue glide across your chest, giving extra special attention to your nipple. You watch Beelzebub's cock bob in front of you, your arms struggling against the ribbon bindings, aching to touch.

“Show me those delicious tears again, child of Adam. You cried for Belphegor…Why don't you cry for me too?” Lucifer purred, dipping his head to the nape of your neck before sinking his teeth.

“The best way to make them cry is to make sure they're nice and overwhelmed with pleasure," Beelzebub smirks, turning up the setting. You throw your head back. “B-Beel! P-please! T-too-too much! So sensitive!”

“You scream his name but not mine…I'll have to train your throat again later,” Leviathan growled.

Beel applied more pressure on the toy as he went for your neck. His tongue strips across the sensitive flesh before sucking. All the while, Lucifer sucks and nibbles at some more parts of the other side, his cock sliding deliciously against a sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh God! Oh fuck!" Your whole body shakes as you cum again.

“There is no God here…” Beelzebub grins as the other kings approach closer toward you, laughing coldly.

“No one can save you now! You're going to stay here and take cock for the rest of your pitiful human life.” Asmodeus purrs, stroking his cock with the other Kings slowly stroking. All you can hear is their wet cocks as they prepare themselves for another round with you. 

Asmodeus's smile turns into a dastardly smirk as he turns to the demon of gluttony, “Beelzebub, once Lucifer is done, let's both pick them up and stuff them at the same time. Beelzebub stopped biting at another part of your body to return Asmo’s toothy grin. “I like the way you think, you horny bastard…”

Beel gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling away.

Lucifer, with the new room that Beel gave him, spun you around before you began to bounce on his lap. With only your shaky legs holding him as he grabbed at your hips to support you. Seeing your eyes swollen and tears dried on your face as well as your cock drunk and glazed look in your eye. Whatever restraint Lucifer had left snapped, bouncing you hard up and down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around your back, bracing himself with each thrust. 

Seeing your ruined face, he knew he couldn't last. Lucifer wanted to wring out one more orgasm from you. This is heavy; balls slap up into you. His lips brush against your ear, his sinful words as he nips your earlobe.

“Do you know what you do to me… to us? All these devils are hard because of you. I am swollen because of you.” His tongue glides across your lip before kissing deeply, his tongue tasting yours in a messy, hot kiss that made you clench around him.

“You did this to us. You drive us crazy to the point where all we can think about is filling you with cock and cum. Your soft skin, your tears, and your cute little screams are addictive.” 

“Are you going to cum, sweet child of man?” 

"Are you going to squeeze me like you did the other devils? Is this sweet little hole of yours going to worship my cock?” 

He rolled his hips, grinding through your orgasm as he came with you, crunching his teeth and silencing his moans into hisses. Even though he just came, it wasn't enough. It will never be enough.

Beelzebub stopped you from falling from Lucifer's lap. Grabbing your bound-up wrists before pulling you toward him, he picks you up in his arms as you instinctively wrap your legs around them as Modius comes up from behind, giving you extra support. "Upsy Daisy, don't want you passing out on us…”

“We should hurry. I don't think our precious present can hold on much longer." Asmodeus says, pressing his lips against your shoulder blade. 

"Damn it! I wanted another turn!” Satan snarled. 

“We have all of Valentine's Day to enjoy our gift." Mammon smiled, relaxing against the chair that Lucifer was sitting on. Enjoying the sight of Asmodeus and Beelzebub trying to fit their cocks inside you at the same time. 

“Come on, sweetling. You can do it; I know you can.” Asmodeus whispered once Beelzebub was inside, he squeezed himself in. He not only felt the squeeze of your tight warm walls but also the delectable pleasure of another man's cock sliding against him. Asmodeus didn't even hide how good he felt when his eyes rolled back, and he moaned.

Beel’s mouth was wide open. If he didn't move right now, he was going to burst, so he slid against your velvet walls, making enough room for himself and the other devil.

Asmodeus kept up with Beelzebub, pressing kisses all over the back of your neck. His pathetic whimpers and whines made you clench around the both of them. You are doing so good taking them both. The other devils watching you were just as entranced as the two taking you. Never had they seen you so fucked out and cock drunk. You didn't even know what was happening, as all you did was press yourself against Beelzebub and take it. It was a beautiful sight. The tears are flowing from your cheeks, and drool is running down your face. With the ribbons binding your body, you have entirely given up, completely at their mercy, all of them.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚜

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ as president of a fraternity, your boyfriend has pledges at his beck and call. so naturally, he tasks them with handing you valentines roses throughout the day ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, american!james (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It starts with a knock at your door early in the morning. You let your roommate answer it while you continue to enjoy your yogurt and granola at the kitchen counter. You don't think anything of the hushed whispers between your roommate and the visitor until she swings the door wide open, revealing a stranger in a suit and tie.

He's looking right at you, holding out a single red rose in your direction. "M'lady," he says simply.

You hesitantly slide off your stool, wrapping your arms around yourself as you shuffle forward in your fuzzy slippers.

"Thanks," you say, accepting the rose. Just as soon as you do, the boy scurries away.

Your roommate shuts the door as you stand idly by, twirling the flower between your fingertips. "Weird. I wonder what that was about," she muses, but you have an inkling. This has your boyfriend written all over it.

The next well-dressed mystery man finds you in line at your favorite cafe on campus.

He hands you the rose with a slight bow, the same practiced "M'lady" you've heard before, then turns on his heel and walks away without another word.

When one of them shows up in your lecture hall, you sort of want to die on the spot. The sight of a man in a suit at ten in the morning catches almost everyone's attention. Their eyes follow him as he makes his way across the large room and down your row, finally dropping the rose on the desk in front of you with a bow of his head and the familiar greeting.

By lunchtime, you’ve collected a dozen roses. But apparently, that was just the warm-up.

In the dining hall, they come in an endless stream, one after another, only minutes apart. They come while you wait in line to order. While your food is being made. The entire time you eat. Each boy, a stranger. Each one handing you a rose with the same solemn "M'lady" before disappearing.

You try to ask what’s going on, but they never answer. Just a nod, a rose, and then they’re gone.

"Sirius," you huff, placing the bundle of flowers on the desk you share with him in your next class. "What is this?"

If the flower delivery boys won't tell you, you hope your boyfriend's best friend might be kind enough to give you some insight.

Sirius snickers as he plucks up one of the roses, bringing it to his nose to inhale the sweet scent with exaggerated appreciation.

"What pretty flowers you have. Where ever did you get them?" he teases, clearly finding enjoyment in your situation.

"Come on," you complain, swiping the rose from his hands and neatly setting it back with the others.

He chuckles, finding it sweet that you're so careful with the flowers even as you mock annoyance. "What do you think? It's Valentine's Day. Does he need another excuse to shower you with flowers?"

You chew your lip to hide your grin. "They're pledges, aren't they?" you ask, even though you're pretty sure you know the answer.

"Who else would they be?"

By the end of the day, you have an armful of roses. You had to grab a brown paper bag from one of the dining halls just to carry them all, and the flowers are packed in so tightly that the bag barely contains them, the petals peeking over the top and spilling over the edges.

Much to your dismay, a handful of the roses have shed a few petals due to the less than ideal setup. With a determined stride, you make your way to your car, intent on getting the delicate gifts home and into water.

As you near your car, you notice someone leaning against it. He looks just like the others, dressed just as formally as the rest—except this time, there’s a bouquet of flowers in his arm instead of a single rose. And, of course, you recognize him by the back of his head.

You press the button on your key fob, unlocking the car with a beep. James flinches slightly at the sound, then turns quickly—his eyes searching until they find yours. The moment he sees you, his expression softens, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, baby," James says, his voice warm with affection.

"James," you greet back with a sparkling smile to match his own.

He holds his arms open for you, and after setting the grocery bag of flowers on the hood of your car, you happily step into his embrace.

"Happy Valentines Day," he murmurs into your hair.

You return the sentiment, giggling as you lean back from the hug to see his face, keeping your arms around him. "It was certainly and interesting one."

"You didn't like my flowers?" he teases. The wind picks up, sending a loose strand of hair into your face, and he gently lifts one of his hands from your waist to tuck it behind your ear. His touch lingers, his hand settling on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw.

"I love them," you say, your voice earnest as you instinctively lean into his touch. "Though I will admit it was a little embarrassing when one of them came into my lecture hall."

"What? When? They were supposed to catch you before you went into any of your classes." James pouts slightly. Even if you are just teasing, he didn't mean to embarrass you with his stunt.

"It's okay." You lean in and give him a quick peck on the lips, an effort to smooth the pout from his face. "I don't want to tattle on any of the pledges."

A quick peck isn’t enough for James, as evidenced by the way he pulls you back in almost immediately, pressing his lips to yours for a real kiss. It's gentle at first, but James can never get enough of you. His arm tightens around you as he deepens the kiss, the cellophane wrapped bouquet in his hand crinkling behind your back.

"Don't crush my flowers," you mumble against his lips. "I only have so many."

James pulls away, a laugh escaping him. "So, you liked them? All the flowers?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability as he asks for reassurance.

"I really love them," you promise. "Although, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with all of them."

"We'll find a vase for most of them." James smirks, his voice carrying a hint of mischief as he continues, "As for the rest... I'm picturing candles and a bed covered in rose petals."

"Oh, are you?" you tease, leaning back in and brushing your lips against his. "I think that can be arranged," you murmur, before locking your lips together again.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[daryltwdixon]

Could you do bicep choking 🌚🙈

Daryl Dixon x Reader Grip

Summary: You let something slip—just a thought, just a passing comment—but Daryl hasn’t been able to shake it since. A week later, the tension between you reaches a breaking point.  tags: smut MDNI 18+, awkward pining, pinv, breast play, praise kink. awkward daryl & fmc, bicep choking obvi a/n: hello my love! thank you so much for this request and for your patience. in a second ask, anon did specify that they meant Daryl bicep choking. fair warning, I did not reread this a ton / proofread much. please lmk of any mistakes/errors!

The sun hangs low over the trees, heat pressing in heavy as you weave through the abandoned gas station, boots crunching softly over broken glass. Daryl moves a few steps ahead, bow slung across his back, knife in hand, moving with that effortless quiet of his. Always aware. Always in control.

And his arms.

You tell yourself you’re just paying attention—watching his movements like he watches everything else around him, staying alert. But your gaze keeps catching on the shift of muscle beneath his skin, the way his forearms flex when he grips his knife, the lazy tension in his biceps every time he lifts his arm to wipe sweat off his brow.

You shouldn’t be looking.

But it’s hard not to.

Especially when he plants a boot on a fallen shelf, using his weight to pry open a rusted metal door. The strain makes his muscles coil tight, veins standing out just enough to make you swallow hard.

"Well?" His voice snaps you out of it.

You blink. "What?"

Daryl jerks his chin toward the darkened storage room behind the door. "You goin’ in first or what?"

Shit. You’ve been staring.

"Yeah. Right. On it."

You step past him, ears burning. The space inside smells like old rot and motor oil, a few overturned boxes scattered around. You crouch, rifling through some supplies, heart still kicking too fast. It’s stupid. You’ve been on runs with him before. But something about today—the heat, the silence between you, the way he’s been rolling his shoulders like his muscles are wound too tight—has you hyper-aware of every damn thing he does.

A tin of peaches clatters loose from a shelf, and you reach for it at the same time he does. Your fingers barely brush his, but the contact is enough to send a jolt up your arm, like static crackling under your skin. He pauses. Just for a second. And when he draws back, you swear you catch the flicker of his gaze sweeping over you before he looks away.

You can feel your pulse in your throat.

You should let it go. Should get back to work. But the words are out before you can stop them.

"You ever—" You hesitate, pulse hammering, but you push through. "You ever, I don’t know, choke somebody with your arms before?"

Daryl stops. Slowly, he turns his head toward you, eyes narrowing just slightly. His bicep shifts as he adjusts his grip on the tin in his hand. "The hell kinda question is that?"

Shiiiit. You fucked up.

But instead of retreating, you force yourself to keep looking at him, tilting your chin up just a little. "I just mean, you’re strong." A shrug, like it’s no big deal. "Bet you could hold somebody down real easy."

Silence.

Then, Daryl exhales through his nose, shaking his head. But there’s something in his expression—something flickering behind his eyes, sharp and considering.

He tosses the tin into your hands and mutters, "You’re weird." and walks away.

═════════════════════════

Back at the prison, dinner is quiet, the usual hum of conversation mixed with the occasional scrape of utensils against tin plates. Most people are too tired to talk much, a day of tending to the gardens, cleaning out cell blocks and keeping walkers at bay making everyone look forward to the slower evenings. The air in the hall feels thick with the kind of exhaustion that settles deep, making everything feel slow, heavy.

You should be eating, but your stomach isn’t interested.

Because Daryl’s staring at you.

You haven’t looked at him, not really since you got back, but you can feel it. That steady weight from across the room, the burning of your ears, it makes it almost impossible to keep your stomach from doing somersaults. 

You should’ve kept your mouth shut on the run. Should’ve swallowed the words down, let them die in your throat. But no—you had to go and say it. Maybe it was your stupid hormones, the way he seemed to speak to some primal part of you that evolution put in your dna, maybe it was just some stupid impulse you couldn’t control. Either way, it’s too late now.

Not like it meant anything.

Except, if it didn’t, why was he still looking at you?

Your fingers tighten around your fork, but you don’t move to take another bite. Instead, you stare at the food on your plate, willing yourself to focus on anything other than the way your face feels too warm, the way your pulse is pressing a little harder than it should.

Maggie shifts in her seat, nudging Beth’s arm. “You good?”

You blink, glance up. Beth tilts her head, studying you, while Maggie smirks like she already knows something you don’t.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost today or somethin’,” Maggie says, “The run go that bad?”

“N-no,” you stammer, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, “It went fine. Got a lotta good stuff, actually.”

Maggie hums, unconvinced, and you watch as her eyes flicker behind you when she says, looking back at her plate, “Looks like someone’s got a little crush.”

The fork slips from your fingers, clattering against the plate, “I do not!”

But your reaction is what does it– it’s too sharp, too defensive. Beth startles a little, but Maggie just stares, slow realization spreading across her face as you lock eyes with her.

“I was only kiddin’." she says incredulously, "I meant the grouchy archer sittin' across the room, he keeps starin’ atcha.” she shakes her head, eyes lighting up. “But I see I’ve been mistaken.” She leans in. “You like Daryl?”

Your stomach drops.

Beth gasps, slapping Maggie’s arm. “Oh my god.”

Your face is on fire. “I don’t—”

Maggie grins. “Holy shit, you totally do.”

Beth’s trying to stifle a giggle. You shake your head fast, like that’ll help, like it’ll undo the last five seconds, but it only makes Maggie look even more certain. You can feel the walls closing in, feel their eyes on you, but worse—you can still feel his.

It’s too much. You push your plate away and mutter a quiet, “Not hungry anymore,” before standing and heading for the stairs, their laughter echoing behind you.

You don’t look back, because if you were to turn around and find those ocean blue eyes still on you, it would be your undoing.

═════════════════════════

The book in your hands is old, pages yellowed and brittle at the edges, the spine cracked so deep you have to be careful when you turn the pages. You’re not even sure what it’s about. Something about a man lost at sea. Maybe.

You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.

It’s not that it’s boring. It’s just that your mind refuses to focus.

You shift on your cot, tugging the blanket over your lap, trying again, but it’s useless. Your brain keeps circling back, over and over, to dinner. To Maggie’s knowing grin, Beth’s giggles, and—worst of all—Daryl.

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling sharply. You should’ve never said anything. Should’ve kept that stupid thought locked away where it belonged.

A quiet scuff of boots outside your cell makes your stomach jolt. There’s a pause, then a hesitant knock against the frame of your open door. Not loud or rushed, more like a question.

You look up.

Daryl stands in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head slightly ducked. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s already thinking about leaving before he’s even fully stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

Then, he clears his throat. “Didn’t know ya read.”

You blink. It’s such a small thing to say, but something about the way he says it, like he’s searching for an easy way in, trying to settle into the conversation, makes your stomach tighten.

You glance at the book in your lap. “Yeah. Helps pass the time.”

Daryl nods, his eyes flicking around the small space of your cell, like he’s looking for something else to comment on, something to delay whatever it is he actually came here for. Between your haphazardly taped posters and handmade streamers, he doesn’t find anything, so instead, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, exhales through his nose, then finally says:

“That thing you asked me.”

Your stomach drops. Of course. You should’ve known that was why he was here.

Your fingers tighten around the book, but you shake your head quickly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I made you–”

“You think I can?” he asks, huffing.

You frown. “Think you can what?”

His jaw tenses, and when he speaks again, it’s lower. Almost cautious. “Forget it.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He shrugs, but it’s not casual. It’s forced. “Ain’t exactly somethin’ you just let go of.”

Your chest feels too tight all of a sudden. You can’t quite place the look on his face—something careful, something guarded, like he’s trying not to let on that it’s been sitting in the back of his head since you said it. What went through his mind when you asked him?

You shift on your cot, swallowing. “Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His gaze flickers, just barely. “Yeah?”

You nod, but something in the way he’s looking at you makes your throat dry out. He still doesn’t seem convinced.

“You think that’s what I am?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge there, frustration starting to rise in his voice. “Some kinda animal? The kind of man who would kill someone with–” he shakes his head slightly, jaw clenching. “You think I’m like that?”

The realization hits you hard. Your stomach twists. “Daryl, no,” you say quickly, sitting up straighter. “That’s not—”

He shakes his head again, looking at the floor. “Wouldn’t blame ya.”

Your heart kicks against your ribs. “That’s not what I meant.”

Daryl exhales, folding his arms over his chest, still avoiding your eyes. “Then what did you mean?”

You hesitate. Because now he’s looking at you. Not guarded, not distant—just waiting.

Your fingers press into the book in your lap. This is your chance to brush it off. Laugh it away. But you can already feel the heat creeping up your face, and Daryl is still standing there, still waiting, and if you don’t say it now, he’s just going to keep thinking the worst.

You shift slightly. “I meant…” Your throat feels tight. “I meant in bed.”

Daryl blinks.

His whole body stiffens, like his brain short-circuited, like the words hit him sideways and he can’t quite recover. His face is already turning red, slow at first, then creeping all the way up to his ears.

Your own face burns, and you clear your throat, pushing through the embarrassment. “I meant—if you’d ever choked someone in bed. With your arms.”

A silence falls over the room. A long, unbearable silence.

Daryl shifts, dragging a hand over his mouth. He scratches the back of his head, looks anywhere but at you.

Finally, he exhales, mutters, “Jesus,” under his breath, then huffs out a quiet, almost nervous laugh.

Your stomach clenches. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s—uh. That’s what ya meant?”

You nod quickly, still burning. “Yeah.”

Daryl looks at you for a second. His fingers flex slightly at his sides, like he’s thinking too hard about where to put them.

Then, after a long pause—his voice comes out quieter.

“You’d want me to?”

Your stomach drops.

Your eyes snap to his. “What?”

Daryl shrugs, but it’s forced, like he’s trying to play off how red his face still is. “I dunno. Just—” His mouth twitches slightly, like he can’t believe he’s even saying this. “Sounded like somethin’ you were real curious about.”

Your breath catches.

He’s not teasing, not quite—but there’s something in the way he says it, something light, something almost amused. Like he’s surprised at himself, surprised at you, but now that he’s said it, he’s not taking it back.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. Your hands are way too warm.

“I wouldn’t—” you swallow. “I wouldn’t not want you to.”

Daryl huffs out another soft laugh, shaking his head, glancing toward the hall like he’s wondering how the hell this conversation ended up here.

Then he looks back at you, eyes a little sharper now, lips twitching.

The heat in your face flares. You make a noise of protest, shoving at his arm lightly, but he just chuckles under his breath, rubbing at his jaw before he steps back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he says, still smirking.

He turns, but not before you catch it—just the slightest flicker of something in his expression.

Something knowing. Something interested.

And when he finally walks away, you can’t do anything except stare at the empty doorway and try to remember how to breathe.

═════════════════════════

The past week has been unbearable.

It’s not like anything has happened, not really. No one has said anything, no lines have been crossed, but the air between you and Daryl hasn’t been the same since that night in your cell.

It’s in the way his eyes catch on you more often now. The way he lingers a little too long before walking away. The way your skin prickles when he’s nearby, too aware of the space he takes up, too aware of how small you feel in comparison.

And now, you’re on another run together.

“Last one went well,” Rick had said, shoving packs toward both of you. “Might as well stick with what works.”

The drive into town is quiet. Neither of you talk much, just like last time, but it’s not the same. There’s a different kind of weight, and you’re grateful that the open road on the motorcycle leaves little conversation to be said over its echoing roar.

When you finally reach an old pharmacy on the outskirts, the sun is starting to climb higher in the sky, heat burning your neck and the pavement glimmering.

Inside, dust clings to everything, thick in the air. It smells stale, like old paper and time left to rot. Shelves are overturned, bottles and boxes scattered across the floor.

You do your job, scanning for anything useful, but your focus keeps slipping.

Because every time you glance up, Daryl is there.

He’s not doing anything different. Not saying anything. Just moving through the space like he always does—quiet, efficient. But somehow, it feels like every single movement is deliberate. Like every shift of muscle under his skin is something you shouldn’t be watching, but you are.

The dust-covered counter at the back of the building gives you something to focus on, something to do besides thinking about the weight of Daryl’s gaze. You hop over the counter and crouch down, scanning the lowest shelf, rifling through half-empty boxes of medication, checking for anything still worth taking back.

A prickle of awareness crawls up the back of your neck.

It’s not the usual kind of awareness you get on a run, not the instinct that tells you someone—or something— dangerous is lurking nearby. It’s different. Warmer. Closer.

When you stand, a bottle of pills in your hand, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Daryl is right there, barely a foot away, standing between you and the only way out.

Your breath stutters. He doesn’t usually get this close without reason.

He’s blocking the exit, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trapping you—it feels like he’s stopping himself from walking away. His weight shifts between his feet, his arms twitch like they want to cross, but he doesn’t move, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hand. “Wha—what’s up?”

Daryl doesn’t answer at first. He just looks at you, quiet and considering, something simmering beneath the surface. His teeth catch against the corner of his lip for a second, his fingers flex at his sides, but it’s like he still hasn’t worked out how to say whatever it is that’s sitting heavy on his chest.

Then he exhales through his nose and mutters, “Can’t stop thinkin’.”

His voice is rough, like the words have been stuck in his throat all day.

Your pulse jumps. “Thinking... about what?”

He shifts again on uneven footing, glancing toward the counter before dragging his gaze back to you. The moment stretches, thick enough to smother, before he finally speaks again.

“Since last time,” he mutters, voice quieter now. Your stomach flips. He shakes his head, almost to himself. “You got me all fucked up, girl.”

It’s not frustration, not really—it’s more like exhaustion, like he’s tired of pretending that something between you hasn’t changed. And when he steps forward, closing the last bit of space between you, your body reacts before your brain catches up.

Your back hits the wall behind you.

The old metal shelving is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off him. He’s so close now, close enough that you catch the faint scent of pine and sweat clinging to him, close enough that every nerve in your body locks up, unsure whether to tense or melt.

His arms come up, hands bracing against the metal on either side of you, and suddenly you can’t look anywhere but at him.

Your breath feels too shallow.

Daryl dips his head slightly, breath warm against your cheek, and you hear the way he inhales, slow and deep, smelling the remnants of the apple shampoo you used days ago. 

“S’not like I haven’t thought of ya before.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and your lips part, but you don’t know what to say. You can barely think straight with him this close, his voice this low. He smells of musk and leather and summer sunshine, something distinctly masculine and Daryl all at once. His words sink in, heavy and real, and before you can even process them, he huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head against the side of yours.

“Thought of ya a lot, actually.”

Your stomach twists, heat flaring under your skin.

Daryl pulls back just enough to look at you, and that’s when you see it—the way his pupils are blown, the way his breath comes slow and measured like he’s still holding something back. His jaw is tight, his fingers flex slightly against the metal, and you don’t know whether he’s waiting for permission or for you to push him away.

“Say somethin’,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel in your ears. “Please.”

You reach up then, your hand trembling slightly as your fingers brush along his jaw, skimming over the uneven scruff growing in patches on his face. He exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you trace up along his cheekbone, down the side of his neck, feeling the tension there, the way his pulse beats strong beneath your fingertips.

“I think of you a lot too,” you finally manage to say, and it’s barely louder than a whisper.

His eyes open, still blown wide as they flicker between yours, then drop to your lips. His breath is slow, measured, like he’s forcing himself to hold back.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s more than just a response—it’s permission, it’s consent, letting him know that whatever he’s thinking, whatever’s been running through his mind, you want it too.

And like you’ve just cut the cord that’s been wound too tight between you, he pushes forward, his lips crashing into yours with urgency.

You’re surprised just how soft his lips are, how gentle he tries to be, but the way he moves is anything but hesitant. There’s no testing, no waiting—he’s done holding back, done second-guessing. He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like it’s something he’s wanted for too damn long, and you can’t help but act in equal fervor.

Your fingers tighten against his jaw, then slide up into his hair, gripping, pulling. He groans into your mouth, the sound low, wrecked, sending a sharp pulse of heat straight through you. His hands move without restraint now, gripping at your waist, fingers pressing into your hips, pulling you closer like the space between you is unbearable.

You barely register the sharp clatter of bottles knocked from the shelves as your back presses harder against the metal. Daryl doesn’t seem to care. If anything, the mess spurs him on, makes him more reckless, more desperate.

He kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your legs weak, makes your stomach tighten. He’s breathing hard, fingers digging into your sides, body pressing fully into you now, until there’s nothing between you but heat and friction.

His lips drag from your mouth down to your jaw, then lower, his breath hot as he murmurs against your skin. “Been losin’ my mind over you all damn week.” His teeth catch on the pulse in your neck, not biting, just grazing, making you shudder. “Longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your nails bite into his shoulders as he kisses lower, pressing into the spot just beneath your jaw, the one that makes your breath hitch. His hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips brush against bare skin, warm and rough, and you arch into his touch without thinking.

“Daryl…”

He groans at the way you say his name, a quiet, broken sound that sends a deep shudder through his body. He presses his forehead against yours for a second, breath ragged, like he’s trying to steady himself but failing. Then his hands tighten on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter of the pharmacy.

You gasp softly, but he’s already between your legs, already pulling you flush against him, the heat between your bodies unbearable. His lips are on yours again, claiming, devouring, his hands moving up your thighs, squeezing, gripping like he can’t get enough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you kiss him harder, the urgency between you growing into something more frantic, more consuming. His hands slide beneath your shirt, pushing it up and over your head, and you shiver as his palms drag over your ribs, rough and warm.

His mouth leaves yours just long enough to mutter against your skin, voice thick with something wild, something unraveling. “You sure about this?”

Your only answer is to pull him back in, crashing your lips to his, fingers fisting in his shirt as you tug him closer, needing him, needing more.

That’s all he needs. His shirt is gone in the next instant with yours following suit, and the moment the fabric is over your head, his lips are on you again, everywhere. You arch into his touch, heat rolling through you as his mouth works down your neck, trailing over your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss leaves behind something electric, something you feel everywhere, and when he drags lower still, down onto your bare chest, his lips and teeth and tongue worship everywhere but where you want him most.

Your breath hitches, your hands restless, gripping at his arms, his shoulders, his hair—anywhere you can reach, anywhere you can pull him closer. He’s between your legs now, his body solid, burning against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back.

You look down at him, ready to beg, but the sight of him wrecks you.

Daryl between your legs, his lips on your skin, mouth open, breath warm as he stares at you like he’s never seen anything like you before.

Any coherent thought vanishes the moment his lips close around your nipple.

A breathless moan leaves your lips as his tongue flicks over it, hot and slow, sending a deep ache curling low in your stomach. His rough fingers knead your other breast, rolling and pinching your sensitive skin in just the right way, his touch deliberate, like he’s learning you, like he’s memorizing every reaction.

You arch into him, pressing closer, needing more, but he keeps the pace slow, like he’s savoring every second, like he wants to soak in every feel of your body against his. 

His tongue swirls over the sensitive bud, lips tugging gently before he soothes it with another slow flick, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His other hand stays firm on your breast, rolling, kneading, fingers rough with callouses as he works you over with slow, steady intent. It’s almost too much, yet not enough, and you feel yourself tilting between the two sensations, every nerve in your body locked onto the way he’s touching you, kissing you, like he never wants to stop.

You’re barely aware of your own sounds, the quiet gasps, the soft moans, the way your hands dig into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, needing him closer. His mouth moves lower, lips dragging down your stomach, his hands sliding along your sides, gripping your waist like he’s grounding himself.

Then, just when you think he’s going to keep going, he stops.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling, lips slick and parted. His hands squeeze at your waist, thumbs brushing slow over your skin, and he swallows, throat bobbing as he exhales through his nose.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, thick with something dark, something unfiltered.

Your breath catches.

You do as he says, shifting, dropping your feet to the floor and gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as you twist in his hold. The air feels even thicker now, hotter, your pulse hammering as his hands slide over your hips, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

His palms press firm against your lower back, tracing down to your waist before his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants. There’s no rush in the way he tugs them down, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every new inch of skin he reveals. The scrape of fabric against your thighs sends a shiver rolling through you, and when they finally pool at your ankles, his hands smooth back up, gripping, kneading, pulling you back into him.

A sharp inhale leaves your lips when you feel him press against you, his breath warm at the curve of your neck. His fingers flex at your hips, gripping tight, like he’s still trying to hold himself back, like he’s at war with the need running through him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t have time to respond before his lips are on your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin, hands gripping you tighter, pulling you flush against him. The heat of him seeps through you, burning into your skin, your body molding against his like you were always meant to fit there.

Then, slowly, his hand slides up.

You barely register the shift before the weight of his arm is curling around your neck, firm but careful, forearm bracing across your throat, holding you in place. The solid strength of his muscles—it’s everything you imagined, everything you tried so hard to ignore when the thought first crossed your mind.

A low, rough chuckle rumbles against your ear.

“This what you wanted, ain’t it?” His voice is gravel, wrecked, thick with something primal as his breath ghosts along your jaw. His hold tightens just slightly, just enough to make you shudder. “My arm around this pretty neck?”

His words send a shudder through you, pooling heat low in your stomach as your hands grip the counter harder. His arm is thick around your neck, a steady weight that makes you dizzy with want, and when he tightens it just slightly, enough to make you feel it, a whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice barely there.

Daryl stills for half a second like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. Then he makes a noise low in his throat, something rough, something wrecked, and his grip on you tightens.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice thick, warm, almost tender in contrast to how strong he feels behind you. His nose brushes against your jaw, his lips grazing over your pulse as his other hand trails lower, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your hip. “What a sweet thing you are”

The praise sends a jolt through you, your breath catching, fingers twitching against the counter as he shifts behind you. Then you hear it, a belt coming loose and buckle clattering to the floor with the jeans he was wearing and suddenly you feel him– heavy and thick as he nudges against you, the heat of it pressing right against your slick entrance.

Your whole body tenses, then melts, nails digging into his arm where it rests against your throat. 

Daryl lets out a slow, shuddering breath, nipping lightly at the edge of your ear before murmuring, “Christ, barely touched you and you’re all wet. This all for me?” His hips press forward again, slow, teasing, and you let out a quiet whimper, pushing back into him without thinking. His cock notches into you then, and you both let out a sudden gasp.

“That’s it,” he praises, lips pressing against the shell of your ear, his voice low and soothing and coaxing as his cock sinks deeper into you. “You’re so damn good. Feels good, don’t it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk like this before, soft and filthy all at once, like he’s pouring everything he has into the way he touches you, the way he holds you. You nod, swallowing hard. “So good, Daryl.”

His breath turns heavier, warmer against your skin as he pulls you back onto him, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch as he buries himself inside you. His grip tightens at your hip, steadying you, holding you exactly where he wants you, but the real weight—the one that sends a full-body shudder through you—is his arm, still firm around your neck. You back arches against him, leaning into the muscles of his forearm as he holds you into the crook of his elbow.

“There you go,” he rasps, his voice strained, wrecked. His hips rock forward again, sinking deeper, stretching you, and a ragged moan slips from your lips. His grip flexes, and he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lips warm, tongue flicking against your pulse before he nips at it, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. “Knew you’d take me so good.”

Your nails dig harder into his arm, fingers curling around his wrist where he holds you, your breath hitching as he starts to move. Slow at first, testing, drawing himself out before pushing back in, each roll of his hips deliberate, each thrust pressing deeper, setting a rhythm that already has you unraveling.

His arm around your neck tightens, just slightly, just enough to make your next breath stutter, to make the heat between your legs coil tighter.  His breath is hot against your ear, rough and ragged, the tension in his body coiled so tight you can feel it thrumming through his chest, through the arm braced around your throat.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, his voice raw, nearly pained as he rocks into you. "You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me."

His hips move with slow precision at first, teasing, working you open, dragging out every sensation like he wants you to feel him, to know that he’s the one making you come apart like this. His fingers dig into your hip, pulling you back onto him, the blunt head of his cock pressing deep with every thrust.

"Been thinkin’ about this," he murmurs, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Bout how tight you’d feel, how fuckin’ perfect you’d take me. You feel that, baby?" He drives into you harder then, pushing you flush against the counter, stealing your breath with the sheer force of it. "Feels better than I ever imagined."

Your nails claw at his arm, breath ragged as his grip tightens just slightly around your neck, just enough to hold you there, to keep you at his mercy. His hips snap into you then, harder and faster now that you’ve adjusted to the sheer stretch of his cock. 

"Shit," he groans, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw, sucking at the delicate skin before biting down, his voice going strained. "You like this, don’t ya? Bein’ held like this? Wrapped up in me, nowhere to go."

You whimper, pushing back into him, chasing the heat, the pressure, the way he’s unraveling you piece by piece.

His free hand slides down, dipping between your legs, his fingers finding you slick and swollen, rubbing slow, purposeful circles that make your knees shake.

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, pressing his forehead to the side of your head, his breath coming harder now. "Gettin’ all worked up, takin’ it so damn well." His fingers flick over your clit, pressing just right, and you let out a broken moan. "That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. Been dreamin’ ‘bout these sounds."

His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, and the tension in your belly coils tight, too tight, everything building.

Daryl feels it.

"Yeah," he breathes, his voice shaking now, wrecked with how good you feel around him. "I know, sweetheart. Feels like your body’s beggin’ for it, huh?" His lips drag over your jaw, his hips pounding into you now, chasing that high. "Wanna cum all over me, don’t ya?"

The coil snaps at his words, white-hot and blinding as his arm tightens, stealing the breath from you completely. Your entire body goes taut as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp and overwhelming as your lungs scream for air. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing tight, and Daryl groans deep in his chest, his rhythm going sloppy, erratic.

"Shit, you’re milkin’ me, baby," he groans, his fingers moving to grip your hips, "Goddamn, you feel like fuckin’ heaven." 

He holds you, hips pinning you against the counter as he buries himself deep, shuddering against you as he spills inside you.

His hold around your neck finally eases, his hand smoothing over your collarbone, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses against the side of your neck as both of you come down together.

"You alright?" His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges, but there’s something tender in it, something real.

You exhale shakily, your body still humming from the aftershocks, a slow, blissed-out smile creeping across your lips. "Yeah. That was… that was so hot."

Daryl huffs out a small, breathless laugh, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of your neck. His hands keep roaming, slow and absentminded, smoothing over your waist, tracing lazy circles along your hips, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

"Yeah?" He nuzzles into your shoulder, his lips grazing your damp skin. "Ain’t never tried it before." His voice is warm, a little smug, but softer than before, like he’s still coming down from it too.

You hum, stretching slightly against him, still pressed chest to back. "Me neither. Somethin’ about you, Dixon."

Daryl makes a sound deep in his throat, something pleased, something almost knowing. His fingers tighten just slightly at your hip, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before he murmurs, "Ain’t gonna be the last time, neither."

“Promise?” you chuckle, turning in his arms to snake your hands around his neck.

Daryl smirks, slow and lazy, his breath warm against your skin as he tilts his head, letting your fingers slip into his hair. His hands slide lower, resting at the curve of your back, holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough but sure. "Promise."

His lips find yours again, softer this time, slower, like he’s savoring it, like he’s already thinking about the next time, about how he’ll take his time with you, about all the things he wants to do.

[dare-writes]

But God Works Too.

After asking Dave for a break, Kick-Ass comes to your window after a week?

aaron masterlist

dave lizewski x female reader

genre: slight hurt/more comfort, smut; 18+ MINORS DNI

wc: 3.5k

sexual content warnings: making out, biting kink, breast play (it’s dave.), slight blood kink, marking kink, hint of jealousy, lying down 69, oral (m&f receiving), he calls reader Ma’am and God, Dave doesn’t wear boxers with the Kick-Ass suit, cumplay, cum swallowing (both parties!), implied p in v

warnings: f!reader, college!reader, college!dave, implied cheating, reader asks for a break, dave cries and asks for forgiveness, he didn’t cheat, hit-girl mentioned, hurt/comfort, dave loves you

i am such a self indulgent writer! 😓

__

It had been a week since you asked for a break. It tore you apart to even ask such a thing, and it wasn’t great that you weren’t being honest with how you felt. You were emotionally overwhelmed, Dave was late to get another date, and you just wanted Dave to ask why you were upset. When you said it, you regretted it immediately but the damage was done. Dave sighed and left with one last kiss to your forehead and said to come to him when you were ready.

You were exhausted from Dave being late to everything. Every date, study session, every single thing you wanted him to be there for, he was late with a terrible excuse like the traffic. He rode a bike, for Christ's sake. You didn’t want a break, you wanted Dave to be honest and find a way to be honest with him back.

You knew this wasn’t a healthy way to start this conversation, but fuck were you an emotional wreck after being hung out to dry for the 5th time this month. Your days blended together, honestly it hasn’t even felt like a full week. It feels more like you have been droning on like a lifeless office woman.

Now, it was 7 p.m., and you had your taser in your right pocket as you walked through the streets of New York to return to your shoddy apartment with three roommates. It was past sunset, and your boots were thudding against asphalt and concrete as you crossed the streets to Broome Res Hall. You shrugged everything off immediately, got inside, and trudged to your room, your house slippers scrolling on the floors.

After hanging everything up or tossing it into the hamper, you quickly showered and were out in minutes. Damp hair trickled water against your skin, and you tugged a smaller towel around your neck to take the damp instead of your sleep shirt. Your laptop and various worksheets lie across your desk, filing through them at insane speeds so you can go to bed. Your playlist of any alt-rock band played off your laptop at a loud enough volume to not hear the jiggling of your window.

A loud knock came, and you screamed at the sight of a masked individual at your window. He yanked off the mask to reveal Dave Lizewsk. Instinctively.c you ran towards the window at the sight of his beat up face. It almost distracted you from the bright green suit with yellow accenting lines. Your eyes jumped around, his bloody face, green and yellow suit, the mask in his hand, and back to his face.

“Dave- what the shit!” You shouted as you opened the window latch and yanked him inside from the fire escape. He ducked in, banging his head on the window, but ducked in nonetheless.

You purposely distanced yourself from him. You wanted to grab him and inspect his entire body for wounds, but fuck you needed space that’s what you said. A gray zip-up fell off one shoulder as you crossed your arms protectively over your chest. Your heart was manically pumping as you calmed down.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dave whined with a crack in his voice. Finally, in the light of your room and a real chance to look at him and his attire, it clicked, You recognized the suit; I mean, every person did. Everyone knew who Kick-Ass was. Only there was blood everywhere.

“Dave… why are you in Kick-Ass’s suit?”

“Baby, please let me explain,” he begged as he walked closer. Dave was never aggressive; his doe-eyes brimmed with water, and his hands were open gently as he tried to beg for acceptance. Regardless, you took another step back. It felt like a stab to both of your hearts, and Dave knew you didn’t. The way your eyes watched him with remorse, watching blood drip from his forehead down to his cheek.

“You… your drawer still has a shirt and sweats, I’m sure. I’ll go get a first aid kit,” you said, creating the distance again.

The distance wasn’t for Dave to remember their break; it was to stop you from running into his arms and holding him, asking who kicked the shit out of him. The way you saw this, it was going two ways.

A) Dave was going to say he was Kick-Ass.

B) Dave was going to say he went to some convention and got his shit rocked.

You couldn’t decide which made more sense, but the inexplicable amount of times he’s had random bruises or even scarring from “old dumb things” he did as a kid made a lot more sense.

You needed this distance to pretend you didn’t want to crawl into his arms and kiss him like mad. He looked so pretty, even with his face bloodied; you couldn’t help but want to kiss him stupidly.

Returning to your room quietly with a glass of water and a warmed-up hot pocket, Dave sat at your desk, reviewing some of your math assignments. He was writing on the sides with a pencil.

“Dave?”

“Oh, sorry… I was… helping you with some of the stuff here. I know you aren’t a fan of math,” Dave said awkwardly. He set the pencil down and spun the chair to face you. It felt so typical having him back here. A swell of warmth flushed your body as you watched his bruised and bloodied face face you. You cleared your mind with a quick blink.

“Come sit on the bed. I’ll fix you up there,” you said quietly, handing him the hot pocket on a paper plate and a glass of water. Dave wore an old, shoddy navy blue T-shirt, the arm hem cutting nicely around his biceps and gray sweats. He devoured the hot pocket–a typical college kid.

He had to know those were your favorite sweats on him. There’s no way he didn’t. You tore your eyes away, took a small stool from your makeup desk, and cleaned off his wounds.

“Can I explain… please,” Dave asked quietly as you stood above him. Your hands carefully worked around his face and forehead, and the blood was still sticky as you took small alcohol wipes to his skin. Orangey-red blood smears dragged across his forehead and temple.

“Dave,” You started slowly.

“Please, I’ll explain everything. I know you wanted space, but— god, space from you felt like my world was ending,” Dave said with a slight whine. He was killing you, and he was still so undeniably cute.

“You’re Kick-Ass,” you asked quietly. He met your eyes and nodded slightly.

“Kick-Ass came out four years ago, Dave. You’re telling me you’ve been Kick-Ass since you were in high school?”

“It was dumb, and it wasn’t a lot. I took a lot of breaks because… I mean, why wouldn’t I? But you know Hit-Girl?”

“I heard about her.”

“She’s like my sister… I got her dad killed when she was like 13, so I try to be there for her,” Dave began quietly. “She came back into town and needed Kick-Ass.”

You glanced down at his eyes before tearing them away to grab out bandaids. A hum left your lips. The tone and inflection of the hum was neither impressed nor dissatisfied. You refused to be jealous of some kid, but if she was taking more of his time and priority, what? Dave could tell it was off. He was always good at that.

“It started before we started… dating-dating. Before we made it official, like the day before.”

“And you’ve been helping her this entire time but put me on the back burner?” You bit. Admittedly, your tone was a lot meaner than you intended it to be. Your eyes shot down to Dave with regret. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it to sound so mean. You have to understand why I asked for the break, though.”

Dave, whose eyes were watery from the proximity of alcohol to his wound and likely your comment, just nodded.

“I should have been honest from the start,” he added. “I’m sorry, I just want you back already… I was hoping a week was enough, but if it’s not—”

“Dave, I just needed time to breathe.”

“No, you didn’t. I get it. I was being a bad boyfriend,” Dave shook his head. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, but you didn’t appreciate being left behind. It was always like that, with Marty or Todd covering or giving each other a look at each other as if asking What excuse this time?

You knew you would not get anywhere if you didn’t admit your feelings. You dragged the desk chair over and sat before Dave while you put away the first aid kit objects. Your tone was quiet and meek. “I asked for a break because I thought you were cheating. I hoped you’d just rip off the bandage and call it quits.”

His silence horrified you, and you couldn’t look away from the small white plastic box. The latch wouldn't press into the receiving end to keep it closed. The plastic rattled until Dave took it from your hands, and your face met his abdomen. He smelled like sweat. Even with his suit sweat, you smiled softly into the hug. Dave took your hands while he slid down, kneeling in front of you with damp cheeks.

“I never wanted you to feel like that–baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest earlier,” he whispered. His lips kissed your knuckles, putting his freshly bandaged forehead into your thighs with a despondent sigh. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was Kick-Ass. I want to be more honest with you.”

Before you could even get to it, Dave looked up at you. His cheek pressed against your thigh with tear streaks, “I want you back.”

“Dave–”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” Before Dave could try to stand and pull away, you took your hands from his and grabbed his face to kiss him. You pulled off and ducked your head beside his face, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Dave. I– I needed answers… I was scared.”

“Do you still want answers?”

You took your face away from him, and looked back perplexed. “You… already explained it?”

“I’m sorry I was so out of touch with you, I never want you to feel that way again. Hit-Girl has always just been my little sister, I swear,” Dave whispered.

“I—“

“I’ll do anything,” he added lastly. You smiled down at him, and pulled him to sit back on your bed. You sat beside him and pulled your arm around his shoulder to lean his head into your neck.

“Dave, you’ve explained enough. It’s okay.”

“Promise?” He hummed into your neck. He honestly fought the urge to pull you into bed and cuddle you into oblivion.

“Promise.” Dave threw himself into you more if it was possible. His arms wrapped tightly around your torso as his lips kissed up your neck to your face.

Between kisses, he input each word. “I missed you so much…” He kissed your lips, without giving you a chance to return it, he was pulling away and mumbling into your neck again. “Missed holding you and kissing you.”

“Then can we keep kissing?” You asked teasingly. You hooked your finger beneath his chin to look up at you. A small giggle left your lips as you met his eyes, he was lacking his silver wire glasses. “Can you even see when you’re in that suit? You don’t wear your glasses when you’re Kick-Ass.”

“I squint really hard all the time,” he answered with a whine.

“We should get you some contacts then, love. Or lasik,” you teased. Your fingers held his chin tightly before pulling his chin to yours to kiss him softly. Dave whined at your teasing before kissing you back.

Dave would never admit to any of his friends, or anyone else in the world that he liked sitting on your lap. It wasn’t a surprise when he kneeled over your thighs and pushed you into the bed with him on top of you. His hands felt up the edge of the gray sweater and grazed around your tummy. His lips fell from yours, instead focusing on your neck now. His hand hooked onto the zipper’s tag to reveal your chest more.

“Missed the way you smell,” he whispered before biting down into your collarbone. A loud moan of shock left your lips and your hands moved to grasp his hair.

“I heard some guys asked for your number…” Dave mumbled with his teeth in your collarbones. His teeth grazed away, nipping up your neck. His next target was biting in the soft pulse point next. When you mumbled his name out, Dave couldn’t help but bite harder. “Todd told me… it happened in your guys literature class. I almost found him myself and…”

He laughed before pulling away, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, I almost kicked his ass, as yours truly.”

He leaned back down, his hands tugged down the loose fabric of your zip-up to reveal your breasts. “But I didn’t, cause I’m good,” Dave added before he returned licking and kissing down your chest. “Dave…” drool leaked from his mouth slightly as he sucked around your chest mindlessly.

“Mhm..?” His hum vibrated you, your hips ground up into his sweats. He laughed again before taking one breast into his hand and jiggling it. Dave wrapped his lips around the hardened nipple and groaned around it. Your thighs squeezed together as you felt a pulse of dampness between your panties and your pussy lips.

“You're a tease.”

He took his lips off, keeping his teeth wrapped around the nipple, “I learned from you.”

He did. You taught him all of this when you sucked his cock the first few times. Weirdly enough, Dave was overly attentive to the way you sucked his cock. He loved it, watched like you were a magician. Your hands lifted his face off your breast and reached to take his t-shirt off. “Lie down,” you commanded as you sat up on your right elbow.

Dave has no issue following your command. He slinked off your waist and sat in the middle of your bed. You kneeled up and shed your sleep shirt off, lifting one knee, you trapped Dave’s thighs between yours.

You dipped down, kissing his face and doing the same pattern with him. Your teeth sank into his pulse point as he whined out, his heart rate raced beneath your tongue. A metallic taste entered your lips and you pulled away.

“Fuck… Dave, I’m sorry,” you whispered. You got ready to stand up and grab your small medical kit you left by the foot of the bed. Before you could even leave his thighs, his hands clamped down on your waist and kept you there.

A bulge made eye contact with you before Dave did. “Leave it,” he whispered.

Your lips gaped at the sight of Dave’s neck, a small bead of red trickled down. There wasn’t anything more, but his flush red face and boner told you enough. Your hands touched down his abs to the tip of his hard on, a small whimper released from your renewed boyfriend.

Leaning down beside his left ear, you taunted as you play with his cockhead through the gray sweats. “You like when I bite you Davey? When I make you bleed?”

“Yes… ma’am,” he whispered with a nod. You left his ear, hovering your head above him to give him a gentle kiss. “Mhm… my good boy aren’t you? Always so obedient, so good for me hm?”

Dave limply nodded, his hips grinding into your hand. You gave him some leeway. Taking his elastic band with you as you slid down his legs.

There were no boxers below the gray sweats. Your eyes shot up, his eyes watching you with either horror or pure lust. “Did I speak too soon, have you been bad? Where are your boxers?”

“Don’t… I don’t wear them with the suit on sometimes… It’s uncomfortable,” Dave answered shakily. You tutted, before pulling back his foreskin and licking up from his balls to his tip. You spat on his tip and sighed.

“Perhaps I should get a treat too, considering my goodboy isn’t all that good apparently,” You wondered out loud. Dave had no idea but just nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Your eyes squinted. “Ma’am.”

You smiled before getting off the bed and rolled down your shorts and lace white panties. “Those are my favorite,” Dave whispered quietly as he watched you intensely.

“Glad I wore them?”

“God I missed you,” he added with a puppy dog gaze and nod. You smiled, joining him back in bed. “God yes, please,” he whispered as your pelvis and pussy neared his face.

“Normally I prefer ma’am,” you said. Your face was towards his cock, your hand took it, letting hot spit dribble out your mouth and fall onto his tip. You finally took your seat before Dave could respond or cry. “But God works too.”

Dave hummed, his lips mumbling out. “Hold… thighs,” he said between sucking your cunt, trying to drink you dry.

“Mhm, go ahead,” you answered before lowering your lips onto his cock. He moaned as he hooked his arms around your thighs to smother him further. You groaned on his cockhead as you did your best to deepthroat him, never an easy task with him. His cock was damn near the size of your face while hard. He wasn’t thicker than normal, but his length took you out enough.

The room was full of crude slurping and sucking sounds from the two of you, thank god your roommates were out partying instead of staying in for the night. Not more than a few moments later, Dave was crying between your thighs.

“Maam I wanna cum, please please,” he cried against your clit. You waited, you entirely stopped, his cock lodged near your tonsils. Testing him to see if he remembered what you said earlier. His mind spun, feeling you gagging slightly around his tip. “Please God, please make me cum. You’re the only one who can make me cum God.”

You hummed around his cock, resuming your sucking and licking. Your hand jerked off the rest of his cock you couldn’t reach. “God, yes I love you,” Dave whimpered as his thumb made contact with your clit. His tongue ravished your hole, it felt constant but so fast that time was blurring together. Your hips ground into his face slightly with moans around his cock as you neared completion.

“Mhm.. Dabbve,” you hummed around his cock.

“Can I cum, god please?” his voice asked small as he fingered your clit with his thumb. “Please God, I know you’re close I can feel it.”

“Come on, Dabbve, come for me,” you responded with his tip in your mouth. You sucked down again, lodging him in your mouth near your throat as you squeezed around his tongue one last time. Cum spilled down your throat, you did your best to make sure it wasn’t at an awkward angle that would make you choke. Your mouth was full of cum, and couldn’t keep taking it all. You pulled off and sat beside Dave, your thighs shaking from spending so much time bent over his face.

“Fuck…” Dave whispered, cum still trickling down his softened cock. You sigh heavily, cum was also down the side of your lips. You leaned over, kissing his lips softly, exchanging some of his cum with him.

“Babe,” he groaned as he took some down his throat.

“You deserve it,” you said with a wink. You took the rest from your lips and dragged it across his nipples. “I just came like a water fountain, and you’re trying to fuck me again?”

“What— did you not jerk off this entire week?” You asked as you laid beside him. He sat up and shook his head no with an embarrassed smile. “Why do you think I came in like 3 minutes?”

“Cause my head game is wonderful?” Dave giggled and leaned down to kiss you softly.

“It is,” he replied. The taste of each other on your lips as you swapped spit. It was slower now, softer, but still messy with all the liquids on their faces. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you two kissed, happy flits of moans left you both.

“I love you,” he said into the kiss. You responded the same, with a large smile before giving one last big smooch to his lips. He pulled you by the waist to lie in front of him. “Please… God, can I have more of you?” Dave begged as he leaned to close the space between you. His needy eyes made you warm, and your pussy swell with warmth.

His cock was hard against your lower tummy. You couldn’t believe him, it’s like he was still a high school freak who jerked off three times daily.

“Fine.”

Dave didn’t waste any time with you, he had a whole week to make up for.

[milunalupin]

❤️ with the prompt “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.” please!! thank you nicole ily <3

my lovely lovely san happy valentine's day !! thank you for the request ily so much <3

— do you wanna know a secret ?

remus lupin x reader ♥︎ 845 words

The air in the common room was thick with the excitement of Valentine’s Day. Some students were exchanging notes, others were planning for the dance that night, and a few were simply enjoying the sugary sweets scattered across the tables. You, however, found yourself hiding in a corner with your textbook, trying to focus on your charms homework. It wasn’t that you disliked the holiday—it just felt like a reminder of what you didn’t have: someone to share it with.

Of course, there was someone you'd like to spend it with. Remus, your best friend who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a laugh, a kind word, or just a quiet moment together.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Remus appeared in the doorway of the common room, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan. He caught sight of you almost immediately, and that familiar, warm smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your heart beat a little faster, but you pushed the feeling away. He was your best friend, and that’s all he could ever be, right?

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You looked up from your book and tried to smile. “Just, uh, trying to get some work done. You know, not everyone is celebrating Valentine’s Day with a dance or chocolates. I’m just not in the mood for all the… fuss.”

Remus nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I get it. The whole day just feels like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?” He sat down next to you, shifting a few of your books to the side. “But, you know… if you want, we could just skip all that and hang out. Maybe take a walk around the lake, or—”

You blinked in surprise, cutting him off. “Wait, Sirius isnt forcing you into another double date?"

Remus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I wasn't really interested in her, it wouldn't have been fun for either of us."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh,” you said, awkwardly fiddling with a pencil. “Well, you don't have to just sit here with me. I mean, you could always ask someone else…”

“C'mon,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Besides, I don’t need anyone else.” His voice softened at the last part, and his eyes lingered on yours just a moment longer than usual.

For a brief moment, the world felt very still. There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at you, that made your chest tighten. You’d always known Remus as your closest friend, the person who could make you laugh without even trying, the person who always seemed to understand you in ways no one else could. But hearing those words took you by surprise.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah,” you said softly. “A walk sounds nice.”

The two of you left the common room, walking through the nearly empty corridors. The castle seemed quieter than usual, many couples having gone to Hogsmeade to celebrate the holiday. As you reached the entrance hall, Remus turned toward you, his face more serious now, as though he were gathering the courage to say something.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant. “Maybe I haven't been as obvious as I thought, but.. I care about you, more than I probably let on. And I guess I’ve been wondering if you.. feel the same?”

Your heart raced at his words, the question hanging in the air between you. It was all so sudden, but somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment in your chest. “Remus,” you said softly, “I’ve always cared about you. You’re my best friend.”

There was a pause, and then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, Remus reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I think I want to be more than that,” he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles.

You felt your breath catch. For a long moment, you just stood there, looking at him, trying to reconcile the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. And then, with a soft laugh, you squeezed his hand.

“I think I want that too,��� you said quietly.

Remus smiled, a mixture of relief and happiness in his expression. And just as the first snowflake of the evening drifted down from the sky, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead in a tender, quiet kiss—an unspoken promise.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled back, feeling more content than you had in a long time. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Remus.”

[rizzmura]

under your skin; the first impression

enemy!niki x fem!reader

warnings: strong language, mild sexual tension, suggestive themes, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, light teasing/flirting, angst, heated banter, emotionally charged moments

w.c.: 2.5k

chapter one synopsis: niki walks into your life like he owns the place. he’s cocky, self-assured, and somehow always knows how to push your buttons. what starts as harmless teasing soon escalates into a rivalry that neither of you can escape. but there’s a thin line between hate and something else you’re trying hard not to acknowledge.

you had heard about him before you met him. everyone had something to say about nishimura niki, and none of it was particularly glowing to you. he was the kind of guy that had a reputation for being difficult, cocky, and loud. he had this charm, a swagger about him that you couldn’t ignore. his confidence radiated from every word, every action. and if you were being honest, it annoyed you. everyone had their limits, and niki seemed determined to find yours.

before he even stepped into the lecture hall, you had already made up your mind: you were going to keep your distance. college wasn’t supposed to be about dealing with someone like him. it was supposed to be a place to focus on your future, to get your degree, and leave. you weren’t here for any distractions.

but of course, niki didn’t seem to understand the concept of “quiet.”

he burst into the lecture hall like a hurricane, his loud voice announcing his entrance before his body even fully filled the doorway. he was talking to a friend, animated and expressive, as usual. his presence immediately drew attention, and you could feel the collective sigh of the room when he took the seat right next to you, without even a glance in your direction.

you tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. everything about him was distracting. his too-loud laugh, his exaggerated gestures, the way his energy seemed to fill every inch of space in the room. you could almost feel the way his presence pushed against your own, like an electric current you couldn’t escape.

niki seemed to have no concept of personal space. or maybe he just didn’t care.

“hey,” he said casually, looking at the papers in front of you. “you look like you’re actually paying attention. i should’ve sat next to you.”

you shot him a quick, disinterested glance, silently wishing he’d just leave you alone. “great,” you replied flatly, focusing your gaze on your notes, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed you as if he was trying to figure out who you were, like it was some kind of game to him.

he wasn’t deterred. of course, he wasn’t. “you know, i heard this lecture is a waste of time. i only came because the syllabus said there’s a quiz later this week.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “how convenient for you,” you muttered, still not looking at him, but you could already feel a little tickle of irritation creeping up your spine.

niki grinned, completely unfazed by your flat response. “i take it you’re not a fan of this place, huh? you’re a bit too serious for college.” his tone was playful, but there was an edge to it, a hint that maybe he wasn’t entirely joking. or maybe he was, and you were just reading too much into it.

you glanced at him, your annoyance rising. “i’m here for the degree. not here to entertain you.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sharp response. “oh, come on, you’re no fun. you gotta lighten up sometimes, y’know? college is all about enjoying the ride.”

you frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “well, maybe i like my ride with fewer distractions. ever think about that?”

his smile only widened, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “you know, i like a challenge.”

you didn’t know why, but you felt your temper rising. maybe it was the fact that he seemed so effortlessly charming. maybe it was the fact that he didn’t seem to care at all about your attempts to ignore him. either way, you couldn’t stop the sharp edge in your voice when you snapped back.

“well, good for you,” you gritted out. “i don’t need your advice.”

niki’s eyes lit up as if he’d won some small victory. “oh, come on,” he said with a mock pout. “i’m just trying to be helpful.”

“keep your ‘helpfulness’ to yourself,” you snapped, doing your best to ignore the rapid beat of your heart. “i don’t need your advice.”

but he was relentless, and you could feel his presence grow closer. he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low as though it were a secret only meant for you.

“wow. that’s intense. i didn’t realize you hated me so much.”

“i don’t hate you,” you gritted out, your tone tight with restrained frustration. “i just wish you would leave me alone.”

niki leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. “if i left you alone, how would i have any fun?”

you stared at him, incredulous. “seriously? you think this is fun?”

he shrugged, his carefree attitude only serving to irritate you further. “maybe for me. definitely for you.”

you clenched your jaw, already regretting the decision to sit next to him. this wasn’t the first time you’d encountered someone like him—people who thought they could talk circles around you just to get under your skin—but niki seemed to have a particular talent for it. and what bothered you the most was that, despite how much you hated it, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

as the lecture droned on, niki kept up his quiet commentary. at first, it was just casual comments—little jokes that no one but you could hear, the occasional nudge of his elbow against yours. you tried to stay focused, but every time your mind started to wander, niki was there, right next to you, almost like he was baiting you into conversation. it was as though he knew exactly how to push your buttons. how to make you uncomfortable.

you weren’t sure how to handle him. on one hand, you resented the way he seemed to have this easy, effortless charm that made people laugh and draw attention. on the other hand, there was something strangely magnetic about him. something that made you feel like you wanted to get to know him. despite yourself, you couldn’t seem to shake the pull. it frustrated you, made you angry, and left you feeling confused.

by the time the lecture was over, you were beyond frustrated. you had never been more relieved to hear the bell ring. gathering your things in a hurry, you stood up, ready to get out of the room and away from niki. he didn’t even seem to notice the way you were practically rushing to leave.

but as you turned to walk out of the lecture hall, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. you spun around, fully prepared to tell him off again, to let him know that you weren’t interested in whatever game he was playing.

“hey,” niki said with a grin, standing in front of you with an annoying cockiness that made your blood boil. “don’t be mad, okay? i was just messing with you. no need to look so pissed.”

you tried to push past him, but he stepped in your way. “seriously, you’re not even going to talk to me after what i said? i thought we were bonding.”

you stared at him, incredulous. “bonding? no, we were arguing. and i don’t plan on bonding with you anytime soon.”

niki just laughed, a sound that only grated on your nerves further. “that’s a shame. i think we could make a pretty good team if you didn’t hate me so much.”

you just shook your head and walked away, trying to ignore the sudden flicker of something in your chest. it wasn’t attraction, you told yourself. it was just... irritation. the guy was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

you sat alone in the cafeteria, poking at your food with a fork, lost in thought. niki's words echoed in your mind, his smirk haunting your every thought. you hated how easily he got under your skin. you hated even more that you couldn't seem to shake the way he made you feel.

as you sat there, lost in your frustration, niki appeared once again. he slid into the seat across from you, his presence immediately overwhelming. you looked up, ready to snap at him, but the words died in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes. this time, his expression was different, still cocky but with an edge of curiosity.

"so, what's your deal?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor. "my deal?"

"yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "you seem like you've got it all figured out. what's your story?"

you hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "i'm just here to study. get my degree and move on."

niki raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "come on, there's gotta be more to it than that."

you sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze. "fine. i'm here to get my degree and hopefully land a good job. that's it. nothing more, nothing less."

he nodded, seeming to consider your words. "fair enough. but you know, college isn't just about the degree. it's about the experiences, the people you meet, the things you learn outside of the classroom."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his clichéd response. "thanks for the lecture, but i've heard it all before."

he smirked, clearly enjoying your sarcasm. "just thought i'd give you my two cents."

you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "you're something else, niki."

he leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. "oh, by the way, i'm having a party at my place tonight. you should come."

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. "a party?"

"yeah," he said, nonchalantly. "it's going to be fun. a good way to take a break from all the studying."

you hesitated, your mind racing. the last thing you wanted was to spend more time with niki, especially in a social setting where he would undoubtedly be the center of attention. but something in his gaze made it hard to refuse. "i don't know…"

"come on," he urged, leaning forward again. "it'll be fun. besides, you need to lighten up, remember?"

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "i'll think about it."

"that's all i ask," he said with a wink, standing up from the table. "party starts at eight. don't be late."

with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting there, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. why had you even considered going to his party? you had no reason to. yet, a small part of you was curious. what was it about niki that made it so hard to stay away?

as the day went on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your studies. niki's invitation lingered in your mind, a constant distraction. you couldn't deny that there was a part of you that wanted to go, to see what he was like outside of the lecture hall. but another part of you was wary, hesitant to let your guard down around him.

by the time the evening rolled around, you still hadn't made up your mind. you stood in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection, trying to decide what to do. finally, with a frustrated sigh, you grabbed your jacket and headed out the door. maybe it was a mistake, but there was only one way to find out.

when you arrived at niki's house, you could hear the music thumping from the street. the party was already in full swing, people milling about in the front yard, laughing and talking. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and walked up to the door.

niki was there to greet you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw you. "you made it!"

you nodded, feeling a bit out of place. "yeah, i did."

"come on in," he said, gesturing for you to follow him. "let me introduce you to some people."

you followed him into the house, the noise and energy of the party washing over you. niki led you through the crowd, introducing you to his friends, making sure you felt included. despite your initial reservations, you found yourself relaxing, enjoying the atmosphere.

as the night went on, you noticed that you were the center of attention for many of the guys at the party. they approached you, striking up conversations, complimenting you, and vying for your attention. you couldn't help but feel a bit flattered, even as you tried to keep your focus on the casual conversations.

niki, meanwhile, seemed to be watching you from a distance. though he continued to laugh and joke with his friends, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered in your direction, observing every interaction you had with the other guys. his expression remained unchanged, but there was an intensity in his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher.

at one point, you found yourself talking to a guy named taeyong. he was charming and funny, and you enjoyed his company. you laughed at one of his jokes, and he took the opportunity to move a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against your arm. out of the corner of your eye, you saw niki stiffen, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

you glanced over at niki, catching his eye. for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—jealousy, perhaps? but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cocky smile. he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "enjoying yourself?"

you turned your attention back to taeyong, but you couldn't shake the feeling that niki's eyes were still on you. as the night went on, you noticed other guys approaching you, each one trying to win your attention. niki continued to watch from a distance, his presence a constant reminder that he was never far away.

eventually, you excused yourself from the group and stepped outside for some fresh air. the cool breeze was a welcome relief from the heat and noise of the party. you leaned against the porch railing, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.

"you seem to be quite the hit tonight," a familiar voice said, breaking the silence. you turned to see niki standing there, his eyes fixed on you.

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. "just making new friends."

"looks like you made a lot of them," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

you couldn't help but smile at his comment. "jealous?"

niki laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat. "me? jealous? please."

"good," you said, meeting his gaze. "because there's no reason to be."

he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking. "maybe not. but it's hard not to notice when every guy in the room wants to talk to you."

"maybe they're just being friendly," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"maybe," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "but i can't help but think it's more than that."

the air between you was charged with tension, the unspoken words hanging in the balance. you wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the intensity of his gaze left you speechless.

after a moment, niki reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. the simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand, craving more of the contact.

"i'm glad you came tonight," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"me too," you replied, your voice just as quiet.

as you stood there, lost in the moment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and niki. he was still as infuriating as ever, but there was something about him that made it impossible to stay away. you didn't know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: your life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

the weeks after the party felt like a strange blur. there was a shift in the way you saw niki, but it wasn’t one you had the luxury of making sense of. every encounter with him only made it more complicated. you hated how much he occupied your thoughts, how he made you feel things you weren't prepared to feel. but the tension between you was undeniable, a pressure that lingered like a storm waiting to burst.

it wasn’t long before you saw him again, this time outside of class. you were walking across campus, lost in your own world, when you saw him—niki, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable in a way that made your blood boil. you didn’t want to deal with him, not today, not after everything that had happened at the party. the memory of his smirk, his casual disregard for your boundaries, had lingered longer than you cared to admit.

but niki was impossible to ignore. he spotted you immediately, and his trademark grin spread across his face.

“hey, there you are,” he called out, voice loud enough to make a few passersby glance in your direction. he pushed off the tree and walked toward you, his confident swagger somehow grating on your nerves.

you stopped in your tracks, your heart beating a little faster, a mix of irritation and something else you weren’t ready to acknowledge. “what do you want, niki?”

“just wanted to talk,” he said with a casual shrug, but there was something in his eyes—a glint of mischief, maybe even challenge. “you know, we didn’t get to finish our conversation last time.”

your stomach dropped, remembering how that last conversation had gone. the anger, the frustration, the way you’d tried so hard to ignore him because of what you were feeling. it hadn't worked. it still didn’t.

“there’s nothing left to say,” you snapped, taking a step back, trying to keep your distance.

he stopped in front of you, not backing down. “really? feels like there’s plenty to say.” his voice was still playful, but there was an edge to it now, like he was daring you to say something. to do something.

you clenched your fists at your sides, the urge to snap at him overwhelming. “you think this is all some kind of joke, don’t you?”

niki’s expression shifted slightly, his grin faltering for just a second. “i don’t think it’s a joke. but you sure act like you think i’m some kind of joke.”

the words stung more than they should have. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he continued.

“you think i’m just some cocky guy who doesn't take anything seriously,” he said, voice low now, more intense than before. “maybe you're right. but you’re not exactly making this easy, are you?”

your chest tightened, and a sharp retort slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “maybe i wouldn’t be so ‘difficult’ if you’d just stop messing with me. if you’d just leave me alone for once.”

niki’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, with something—hurt? disappointment? you weren’t sure, but it made your breath catch in your throat. you couldn’t afford to feel bad for him. not now. not after everything.

he took a step closer, narrowing the space between you. “you think i enjoy this? the back-and-forth? the constant tension between us?” his voice was quieter now, almost hushed. “you think i want this?”

“i don’t know what you want, niki,” you retorted, your voice cracking with the rawness of the frustration you’d been holding in for weeks. “you don’t make any sense. one minute you’re annoying the hell out of me, and the next, you’re acting like you actually care. it’s impossible to figure you out!”

his face hardened, his eyes darkening. “and maybe it’s impossible for you to admit that you care too.”

the words hit you like a slap, leaving you breathless. you wanted to argue, to say something that would push him away, but the truth lingered in the space between you. you did care, in some twisted way, and that terrified you.

“i don’t care about you,” you snapped, more forcefully than you intended. “i don’t want you in my life. all you do is make everything harder.”

niki’s jaw clenched, his expression tightening. “is that what you really think of me?” he took another step forward, invading your space, the air between you crackling with tension. “that i’m just a problem for you? that i’m just some guy you can push away whenever it suits you?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat. he was too close. his presence was overwhelming, suffocating even. and there was something in his eyes, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you finally said, your voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “you don’t make any sense, niki. you think this is some game, but it’s not.”

“fine?” niki laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. it was bitter, frustrated. “you think i’m the one treating you like shit? you think i’m the one making this miserable?”

you stepped back, your mind reeling from the realization that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did—caught in this endless cycle of misunderstanding, of playing games neither of you were willing to admit.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you repeated, feeling your emotions slip out of control. “i just want to be left alone.”

there was a long, painful silence. then niki’s voice broke through the tension, rough and raw. “i want you to stop pretending like you don’t care. i want you to stop pretending that i’m the problem when you’re just as much a part of this mess as i am.”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t stop the way your chest tightened, your heart racing as everything you’d been trying to suppress came bubbling to the surface.

“i don’t need you, niki,” you choked out, every word feeling like it was ripping itself from you. “i don’t need this. i don’t need you messing with my life, making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“you think i’m the one messing with your life?” his voice rose, a mixture of anger and hurt in his words. “you think i’m the one making this hard? i’m not the one pushing you away every time you start feeling something.”

your eyes burned, the anger and hurt so strong that it made you dizzy. “i’m pushing you away because you don’t respect me. you don’t respect my boundaries, niki. you think this is some game, but it’s not.”

the words were out before you could stop them. and as they hung in the air, something in niki seemed to snap. his eyes darkened, his mouth tightening into a thin line.

“i’m not some game to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with a fury you hadn’t expected. “well, i’m not some toy for you to just push around either.”

the fight had exploded, raw and brutal, and neither of you could stop it. the emotions were too strong, too tangled, and now you were both caught in a moment where there was no turning back.

《》

tag list (if your name is crossed that means i cant find your blog)

@ramenoil @strawberrynull @si3rren @rikidaze @yangjungwonnie @hehabi @ijustreallylike2read

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡A Drunk Valentine 💝

You've ordered: a dark chocolate liquor donut! enjoy!

"But, hey, what can you do? I'm a touchy feely fool~"

Rafayel x reader | word count: 1,059 words

Summary: you accidentally leave out liquor chocolates...what's the worst that could happen? 💝

Warnings: mentions of liquor chocolates, rafayel gets a little tipsy (i imagine him as a lightweight-), mild spice (MDNI). not really a warming, but lowkey clingy rafayel 🤍

Note: my first love and deepspace fic! i haven't played the game (yet), so if anything in this fic seems inaccurate, feel free to (respectfully) let me know. happy valentine's day! 💕

Your Valentine's Day with your boyfriend was rather eventful and warmed your heart to its core. First thing in the morning, you woke up to a pleasant and delicious breakfast in bed. After feeding each other and sneaking kisses, the two of you relaxed in bed for the majority of the day, just enjoying each other's presence.

Later on, Rafayel took you out for a lavish dinner, set right by the ocean. And at the end of it all, you two exchanged gifts. He gave you the gift he'd been working on for weeks on end: a gorgeous painting of you as a merperson. You gave him clay figures you sculpted to look just like the two of you. The night ended off with you and Rafayel playing around in the ocean, splashing each other and having an all around good time.

You two finally made your way back home, stepping into your cozy shared apartment. You had dried off with the towels Rafayel had in the car, but your skin still begged for a shower.

"I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get in the shower." you told your boyfriend, getting a thumbs up in response.

As you disappeared down the hallway, Rafayel floated around the apartment, looking for something to hold his attention until you got back. His eyes soon settled upon two boxes of chocolate, one blue and one red. There weren't any names or labels on them, both boxes filled with the same chocolates.

Surely, you wouldn't mind if Rafayel snuck a few, right? After all, you two were probably going to eat them together after your showers.

---

You exited your shared bedroom, all cozy in your pajamas. Now all you needed was for Rafayel to shower and you two could spend the rest of Valentine's Day cuddling and watching a movie.

"Rafayel, the shower's free!" you announced, walking down the hallway. Usually, you'd already hear him making his way down the hall, but this time, you didn't get a response at all.

"Rafayel?" you called out, hearing a faint mumbling from the living room.

There you saw him, slumped onto the couch, his cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded. He was giggling and mumbling something incoherent, his fingers stained with a bit of...brown? Your eyes traveled down to where the blue box of chocolates sat, wide open with half the box gone.

"Rafayel, how many of these did you eat?" you asked, rushing over and taking the box.

"Why are you so...worried about it? Aren't those...for me?" he asked, his speech a bit slured.

"No! They're liquor filled chocolates, for my boss!" Rafayel raised an eyebrow, scooting over to where you kneeled near the couch.

"You...bought chocolate...for your boss?" he questioned, a frown on his lips.

"Of course I did. My boss gave everyone chocolate yesterday and I just wanted to return the favor." you said, sighing as you looked at the half empty box of chocolates. "I'll have to buy another one."

"Why are you...buying chocolates for...another man?" Rafayel asked, reaching over to tilt your chin up.

You almost burst out laughing at his question, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. "Rafayel, my boss is a woman."

The purple haired male blinked at you, him frown now turning into a pout. "But maybe she-"

"She's married. And has kids." you said, already knowing what your boyfriend was thinking. He was so clingy when he was drunk, especially right now.

"Come on, let's go get you in the shower, and then we'll get you sobered up, okay?" you hummed, cupping his cheeks in your hands. You couldn't deny how cute he looked, all drunk and blushing and pouty.

As hard as it was to lug a six foot drunk man to the bathroom, you somehow managed to get him there. You let go of him to turn on the shower, turning around to take your leave.

"Let me know if you need anything." you said, sneaking a glance at him unbuttoning his shirt.

Before you knew what was happening, Rafayel pulled you into the shower with him, clothes and all. He pressed you back against the frosty glass, his knee moving to slip between your legs.

"What the hell?" you gasped, your own cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't say anything, just stared at you with those big and beautiful eyes of his.

"Rafayel, this is not the time for this. You need to shower and-!" He quickly silenced you with a kiss, his lips slowly moving against yours. Honestly, you didn't really mind, your senses going numb as you melted into it.

You could taste the sweet chocolate and bitter liquor on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, his grip on your hips tightening. Who would've thought that your Valentine's day would end with a steamy make out session, fully clothed, and in the shower? Obviously not you.

Rafayel let out a soft noise as he moved from your lips to kiss down your neck, a hand coming up to pull down the collar of your shirt. Your head was spinning, the warm steam enveloping you, your now wet clothes sticking to your skin, the smell of Rafayel's cologne in the air. All of it sent your heart into a mad frenzy. And you just wanted more.

You tangled your hand into his hair, sighing softly as his lips pressed to your collarbone. You were starting to feel warm and tingly all over, hearing his deep breathing in your ear.

"Rafayel." you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut. He continued to kiss over your skin, his movements becoming a bit slower. Then, you felt him still against you.

"Hello? Rafayel?" you murmured, nudging his head with your shoulder. Oh, look at that. He got you all worked up only to fall asleep right in the middle of it! And this was why he didn't drink often.

You somehow managed to get yourself and Rafayel out of the shower and into warm and dry clothes. He sluggishly flopped into bed with you, curling up to your chest like a cat would and falling asleep almost immediately.

His soft snores made you smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

What an eventful evening.

Note to self: write names on chocolate boxes next year. 💝

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[anisangeldust]

Cupids Arrow | S.M.

Summary: After falling pathetically in love; Sam Monroe decides to give Valentine’s Day a chance.

Pairing: Sam Monroe x popular!Fem reader

Warnings: annoying Sam, use of “faggot” (in a playful way) and “gaybo” (derogatory), lwk self loathing, loser in love Sam, kinda a heavy make out sesh, semi public smut, dry humping, premature ejaculation ? Whimpering Sam, reader teases him and he gets off on it.

A/N: this is lwk self insert and I’m not ashamed abt it. Also I lwk hate it but wtv :( happy vday!!

“Naw bro, she’s fine as fuck” Josh nudges his friend as you walk past. You’d switched high schools and joined the previous semester. It’s as if you were an overnight success, fresh blood, pretty face, and rich parents, a recipe for being the top of the social ladder.

Even sad, mopey, emo Sam Monroe wasn’t immune to your charm

“Fuck off dude, she’d never go for you. You look and act like a faggot. She needs a strong man.” Josh’s friend flexes and raises his eyebrows up and down at you. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued walking to class.

With a scowl, Sam’s eyes followed the whole interaction. What of you did want him? Why did he care? Sam didn’t want you, or your preppy attitude, you fluffy hair that fell above your boobs, your low rise Abercrombie & Finch jeans that barely pass dress code— No. No. He didn’t care about or notice you. You or your big eyes and full lips— No.

And he especially didn’t notice you or the way his heart rate sped up when you smiled at him.

——

If there’s one thing Sam hated more than his father it was P.E. You were the only thing that made the class tolerable. Except he didnt think that because he barely noticed you or your teeny Juicy Couture shorts at all.

Even worse than P.E. (And Sam’s dad) was dodgeball. Fuck dodgeball. Sam thought as he stood in the corner of the gym and watched all the popular guys peacock for your attention.

A star ball hit Sam in the face, and the accompanying voice of one of the jocks followed “you’re out gaybo! Sit the fuck down!” And Sam rolled his eyes, sitting down as he flipped off the guy.

Like a guardian angel sent by a god he didn’t believe in, you threw a ball at the jock and got him out, playfully flipping him off like Sam did.

You go up to Sam and offer a hand. “C’mon, you’re back in. You okay? Looked like a nasty hit.” You smile.

Despite the bit of chill in the winter air, Sam felt a warmth spread across his face. “Yeah no.. whatever. Im good. Im fine” he scoffs, taking your hand to get up and dropping it suddenly when he realizes he just accidentally held your hand

“M’kay” I smile and saunter off to keep playing.

——

“It doesn’t mean anything. Shes nice to everyone” Sam sighs and rubs his face as he and Corey sit in the roof of his station wagon.

Corey takes a long inhale of their shared cigarette “yeah but..” he exhales “she helped you.. or some shit. I don’t know. But I can feel it. She likes you dude” he lays back.

Sam leans back and looks up at the sky, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “Yeah but— fuck man. I can’t just ask her to be my valentine. That’s corny. And she probably has one” Sam sighs

Corey rolls his eyes “does she even entertain the other guys? There’s no harm in asking. Just like, buy her flowers or chocolate or something I don’t know. But ask her” Corey takes a puff.

“Y’know what. Fuck it man. I’ll ask” Sam nods and takes the cigarette, taking a long breath in and letting the exhale dwindle away in the night sky, his mind on you, you and your plump lips..

“Do you think Angel likes roses?” Sam groans

Corey huffs “probably. Get some chocolate too. Shit dude, maybe even a card” he giggles.

——

Walking through the halls of the school had never been so embarrassing. Who did Sam think he was? Using the little bit of cash he had that he’d usually spend on weed for chocolate and stupid flowers? It was too late to back down now. He had to focus.. but even as you got closer he could feel your eyes on him..

Clutching the six roses in his hand, Sam clears his throat to get your attention. “Hey.. uhm— could I talk to you..?” He murmurs and looks around at your friends. Your popular friends, all hanging around your locker. This was a bad idea.

The gentle smile that teased the corner of your lips almost made him forget to breathe “Of course.” You smile and lead him away to a different hallway “we’ll be right back” you look back at your friend then focus on him.

Oh god he was going to do it. “Uhm.. I was wondering if maybe you’d like.. I dunno.. be my valentine?” He murmurs and holds out the roses, opening his backpack and grabbing the chocolate.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, he was so close to just walking away, but the gentle sound of your giggles bring his gaze back. “Of course I will Sammy” you take the gifts “thank you, these are beautiful.

He was shocked. You said yes? This was a joke. A bet. You were just pitying him. “Really?” He whispers, not quite registering that you actually agreed. “Well uhm.. how about I like.. take you to dinner..?” He spews before his mind can catch up with his mouth.

You smile wider “Yes really. And I’d like that.” You take out a notebook and scribble down two things “here’s my number and address. Let me know the details” you kiss his cheek “Bye Sammy”.

He’s eyes followed you like a magnet “See ya..” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to where you kissed him, gently touching the spot with the pads of his fingers.

——

Nervous wasn’t even in the ballpark of emotions he was feeling. This still had to be some elaborate prank, a joke, never mind that he’d called you 3 times and told you to be ready for a dinner he planned, his heart swelling at the excited tone of your voice. You’d stand him up, he’d drive to your house like an idiot and you’d tell him you weren’t serious.

Telling his parents was arguably just as nerve wracking.

<<Hey mom uhm, could you help me.. maybe?>> Sam mumbled to his mother, Robin, as she cooked dinner, her eyes widened in surprise as not only did her angsty son talk to her, but he was asking for help?

She smiled << yeah i suppose.. with what..?>> her tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

Sam shrugged <<I uhm.. like.. maybe have a Valentine’s Day date..>> he cleared his throat and had to stop the smile as his mom rattled on about who you were and then helped Sam with all the details.

Standing at the door of your very nice home, in his only pair of decent dress slacks and a black button down, Sam clutched the bouquet of roses his mom helped pick out and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged woman with sleek brown hair answered the door. “Ah, you must be Sam” she smiles.

Sam nods, running a hand through his black and blue hair “yeah.. that’s me” he gives a lopsided smile “is your daughter ready?” He asks.

“She should be.” Your mom turns into the house “darling! Your dates here!” And the click clack of heels meets Sam’s ears.

You looked stunning. Breathtaking. Sam was flummoxed as he met your gaze. Your dress was a beautiful blush color, and your makeup matched. Sam reminded himself to blink as you approached “Hey.. happy Valentine’s Day” he quirked up his lips and held out the bouquet of flowers.

“These are gorgeous. Thank you” you smile and take his hand, this time on purpose, and walk to his car. Sam opens the passenger seat before climbing in the drivers seat and twisting his key.

Mr. Self destruct by Nine Inch Nails starts to play up again and Sam quickly turns it off “Sorry.. I was uh..” he flushes with sudden embarrassment at his music taste.

You turn the dial back up “don’t apologize. I’d be happy to listen to the music you enjoy” you smile and admire his side profile as he drives, your eyes drawn to the way his hands fiddle with the gear shift, taking in the faint scent of weed that lingers on the leather seats. It was so him, so perfect.

——

The date was perfect. A beautiful awkward mix of Sam’s corny jokes and your elegant aura. It became clear that not only was it not a pity date, but maybe you actually liked him back? He tried not to let himself dwell on the idea. But as the server called you guys “cute” and you just thanked him, Sam could feel himself falling deeper into this boyish crush.

Walking out of the restaurant hand in hand, Sam decided to deviate from his original plan “We should get ice cream. I know this lookout point I smoke at sometimes. It’s perfect for stargazing” the sudden boost of confidence he had talking for him.

“I’d like that a lot” you take his hand and walk to his car.

——

For the first time Sam felt like the universe was on his side. Eating ice cream on Valentine’s Day, sitting in the open trunk of his car with the girl he likes and watching the stars after a successful date, the only thing that would make it better was if he didn’t have a raging boner from watching you lick cream off your lips.

As you got down to the bottom of your cone and started to lick the melted desert off your fingers, Sam wiggled and tried to pull away. But you noticed. Of course you noticed.

“Something wrong?” You look at him and scoot closer.

He swallowed audibly “nothing.. nothing wrong.. I’m great” he shakes his head vehemently.

You lean your head closer, the hot air mingling between you “you sure? You look flushed” you giggle and tease.

He dares to lean in “am not!”

You smile “are too” and then your lips attach. The kiss is heavy, full of Sams insecurity and your desire. His inexperienced tongue moves around your mouth, his pants growing tighter from the taste of your lips.

Climbing onto his lap, you finally see the source of his awkwardness “mmm.. is that what’s wrong?” You tease and gently move your hips over his hard on.

Sam gasps into the kiss, whimpering and letting his mouth part “y-yeah..” he stutters, trying to latch onto his last shred of gentlemanly thoughts.

“You’re so adorable” your giggles make him flushed.

“I’m not adorable.. I’m.. I dunno..” he stutters pathetically, panting into the kiss and bucking his hips up.

You keep moving “pretty sure you are. You’re whimpering like a loser. A cute loser” you kiss and suck on his jaw.

Sam lets out a moan “nuh uh..” he tries for the last time to hold on, but as he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, he’s done for. With one finally little whine, he cums in his pants, bucking his hips up and kissing you.

Both if you look at eachother with wide eyes, the look in his is terrified, the look in yours in playful “did you just..?” And he tears up

“Sorry.. ‘m so sorry.. couldn’t help it..” he pouts and looks at his lap.

You flick his nose to get his attention “I’m not mad Sammy.. that was.. hot” he giggle and kiss him again.

“Hot..?” He mumbles and his hands find your waist.

“And pathetic. Hot and pathetic.” You confirm with a nod of your head.

[multiheadcanons]

A LITTLE EXTRA FOR THE DOLLS. HEAVY AND MEDIC GET MARRIED. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

heavy proposed in a very unconventional way. medic did not take it very well.

they were reading separate books, together in the hall leading to the infirmary, in silence. he slid a golden band on the side table that was between them. he didn’t speak, or make a grand statement of it, just made sure to angle it so the glint caught the doctor’s eye.

and the doctor did notice. he was not cool about it. “that’s not funny.” is all he could say. as heavy insisted, the doctor’s face notably scrunched up in a strange combination of emotions. he looked like he just got shot. but he was also bright red.

it was time to share some secrets.

medic opened up— very hesitantly— without removing his face from the book, about his prior marriage. a woman he called the love of his life. his childhood best friend, the woman who knew him better than he dares to ever know himself. genevieve. and the doctor isn’t paying any attention as heavy’s face pales.

and heavy isn’t thinking as the only thing that exits his mouth, as the doctor is genuinely baring his soul to him, talking about this brilliant woman who fundamentally shifted his view in love and marriage and life itself; the only thing heavy can think to say is “isn’t that… demo’s genevieve?”

the silence that fell in that room. the doctor stopped mid sentence and did not close his mouth. he turned, so controlled in the slow movement, to the heavy weapons guy. and stared at him, slack jawed. harder than he’s ever stared at the man before. an active craze brewed in the doctor’s eyes. heavy kept calm, hoping that if there was any time the doctor would follow suit it would be right now. and for a solid twenty seconds, he had confidence. nobody spoke, but they maintained eye contact and heavy felt he had a handle on the situation. he was so confident he was going to disarm this bomb.

he was confident until he saw the book snap shut. and they held eye contact. and then the doctor carelessly tossed the book up. that is where heavy made the mistake of breaking eye contact, and in a swift motion, medic grabbed the ring and stormed away.

heavy had officially lost control of the situation. before he moved to chase, he went for the medigun.

and the doctor was like a robot. it did not take him long to locate where the louder teammates were. he was honed in, ring grasped tightly in his hand. and him slamming the door to the common area caught their attention immediately.

he took stock of who was in the room.

scout. soldier. pyro. engineer. demo.

there’s the son of a bitch.

and frankly, demo could tell from the look in the doctor’s eyes exactly what was about to transpire and for exactly what reason. there was nothing he could do but brace for it, and maybe do him the favor of meeting him halfway. he didn’t have time for the second before the doctor had crossed the room.

maybe he could’ve told medic earlier and moved past this.

it didn’t matter, demo hit the floor before anyone had time to react. luckily, they were close enough to grab the doctor before he could really start to do damage. he didn’t fight them either, and everyone looked at demo for answers as he stumbled to his feet and shook his head.

“it’s alright; i’m alright… i had that coming. long time coming. alright, doc…” he cracked his neck, and stared at the doctor, notably sobered from the hit. “firstly: hell of an arm you got there. we need to have a chat.”

“you need to be rotting out in the desert. we do need to have a chat.” the doctor replied, calm for a man who literally walked in swinging.

“are you gonna hit me again?”

“yes.”

“…fair enough.”

and they left the room as heavy entered, medigun slung across his back.

“…am i too late?”

the team didn’t see much of demo, or the doctor for about a week, initially. and when they did, they were engaged in silent conversation, their faces set in grief. in anger. in regret and contempt and pity and ache and despair. the team watched as their faces shifted through the days to broken resignation. sometimes the team would walk by and see them both with their heads on the mess hall table, slumped against each other, the bags under their eyes evident as they caught precious seconds of sleep that they weren’t getting otherwise. they would see the men crumble out of their peripheries. their tear streaks would hit the light as they passed by and they would simply continue to walk. but cries echoed through the halls of the base for weeks. the doctor wouldn’t look at anyone, his hands remained balled into fists and his face twisted in snarls. demo wouldn’t speak to anyone, even if he was addressed first, just shook his head and continued on. it showed in battle as they caught their breath in alleyways, and as their enemies passed they would catch glimpses of them on their knees, head in their hands, and the wracked hoarse sobs were drowned by gunfire. it took months for them to begin to show signs of returning to normal. with each other. with the team.

it took a month still from normality returning on shaky legs for medic and heavy to resume their reading together. the first time was tense. talking was off the table. just the repeated tap of the doctor’s foot against the floor, getting louder and louder until it was just him slamming his foot against the ground.

“i can’t do this.”

at that point medic threw his book against the wall and stormed into the infirmary. heavy did not follow.

neither he nor that wedding band were seen again for a few days.

heavy had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see that ring again. and he had mostly resigned himself to the knowledge that if he didn’t permanently ruin his professional relationship with the doctor, they definitely weren’t together in the way that heavy wanted them to be.

he thought that until a glint caught his eye.

he gave a brief glance.

a single silver band sat on the table. large enough for his ring finger.

he closed his book. “that’s not funny. that’s not funny.”

“it’s not funny at all.” the doctor closed his book as well. “i made my decision.”

he set the book down and began to pull off his glove.

“misha. i loved genevieve. i loved her with everything i could give her. it haunted me. she haunted me, her willingness to put her life on pause to be with me and save myself from my own… shame of attraction. i couldn’t thank her enough for that. there was no display of devotion i could make, past giving her a child, to show my gratitude, and i couldn’t do that. to her, to myself, to a child.” he paused in the removal from his glove, before continuing, revealing a single golden band around his ring finger.

“then i find out she didn’t. her life never stopped. only mine did.” herbert stared at the ring around his finger, sparing a slight glance towards misha. “…i’m ready to move on. i held onto her for so long. and i’m ready to let her go.”

misha stayed quiet. he gingerly reached for the ring. he wasn’t sure it was real. but the cold metal confirmed he could believe what he was seeing. he held it in his hand. so small in comparison to his palm. so small in comparison to the scars they give each other. he stared past the ring to the scar slashed across of the life line of his palm.

he gave himself that. for his doctor.

they were already bound by blood for life.

a ring wasn’t needed, he had told himself. he’d been telling himself that for weeks now, in the certainty he had been rejected.

“i don’t want a wedding. i don’t want a honeymoon. just put it on, and we can continue to read. or give it back, and we can continue to read. either way, it’s… it’s okay. it’s alright. i’m alright. we’re alright.” misha couldn’t stop the breath of laughter. the smile that crept on his face. a ring. a ring. and he couldn’t stop a couple of tears from falling. he wiped them away quickly. it felt a little silly to cry because he got what he wanted. it took months, but he got exactly what he wanted.

“it’s… not what i expected from you. when have you ever done what i expect from you?” misha finally found words to say that made sense in his mind; sliding the ring onto his finger.

a perfect fit.

“…i want a honeymoon.”

“…we may have a honeymoon if you would like.”

misha laughed. he couldn’t help it. he looked at his hand, at its new adornment. rotated his hand. saw the glint from every angle. looked at herbert. looked back at his hand. his face felt hot, and a hand naturally reached to feel the heat. he couldn’t stop the smile from getting wider. he laughed again.

he patted the seat of the chair next to him, and held out his other hand.

“come sit next to me. properly.”

herbert’s eyes narrowed, if only slightly and for the moment. but he took a breath. he forced himself to relax. he made this decision. he needs to stick to the commitment he made.

it took many days of working, and thinking, and crying, and not sleeping to decide to say yes.

he didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again. he didn’t know if a commitment he had made, by all means at this point except traditionally, by all means felt traditionally was the right thing to do; was the best thing to do for either one of them at this point. herbert was getting older. he had held onto the ghost of a woman, held onto what he thought was love so tightly for so long, and it was shattered in less than five words. everything he thought he knew about his life was shattered in less than five words.

and herbert was no stranger to hurt. he was no stranger to misha hurting him. he was no stranger to hurting misha. physically and emotionally. they’ve fought. they argued. they’ve said things to each other they can never take back. that still hang in the air some tense days. but they’ve always made it through. come back stronger, held onto each other tighter in battle. learned each other better, maneuvered with and around each other smoother. every force against them has made them a stronger unit, closer friends, better partners.

misha completed him in undefinable ways. understood him enough to accept him fully, wholly. never asked for more than herbert said he could give. respected it. respected him. it’s obviously not a far throw to say misha loved him.

he owed the man a commitment to the grave.

he took misha’s hand and stood, closing the distance and taking his rightful place at misha’s side.

they sat, shoulder to shoulder.

hand in hand.

misha squeezed. herbert squeezed back.

they looked at each other.

spared each other uncertain smiles.

then they opened their books and continued to read.

[faeryleehowle]

I cannot find the ask but im pretty sure its from an anon @hedwig221b about a southern Derek and he has been HAUNTING ME I cant stop thinking about country/cowboy Derek Hale being so large in size but so calm and quiet and just watching Stiles. Maybe because he comes in to help with a new addition to the town/farm like a bakery or cafe or garden or something and he’s always so busy and moving around a lot and runs off of so much caffeine, but he has a LOT to do okay? So yes he is up at 5am and is pulled down by pure exhaustion at 12am and the bags under his eyes are growing but he does it!! He gets the bakery/garden open and opening day is a success and the team he was training for weeks is flawless and capable and he sleeps for a day straight the day after and wakes up to an invitation to dinner at Dereks cabin and he thinks he’s in trouble for sleeping and skipping a day because Derek isn’t necessarily his boss but he is the nephew of the boss so maybe he is the sanctioned enforcer? And he is a nervous wreck the entire walk there but when he gets there everything is…fine??? Derek was just worried that he was working himself too hard and also Stiles is sure for a second that Derek is…flirting with him?? But no Stiles is just wired from wrecking his body and maybe Derek is right, maybe he wouldn’t have to rest so hard if he didn’t work so hard. Derek jokingly but seriously presses that he’s going to keep an eye on Stiles and that when the sun goes down and everyone else stops working that Stiles will too, and Stiles agrees! Derek looks calm and happy and actually everyone on the farm does and Stiles could use some of that. Derek walks Stiles back to his cabin at the end of the night and again Stiles swears he’s flirting but theres just no way, Derek is all man. All STRAIGHT man. He chalks it up to being intimacy starved and confused when anyone shows him an inch of kindness but he’s not going to do that to Derek, so he rids himself of this silly thoughts and waves him goodnight and from that day on Stiles actually does end his days at sundown with the rest of the farm and eats dinner with everyone in the hall and makes friends and tries his best to shake Derek from his mind. But he has got to be the only cowboy to ever exist that is so comfortable with his masculinity, because he BAKES for STILES. Buys him a cowboy hat when he notices the sunburn on Stiles cheeks one morning, (which he hand delivers to him and Stiles cant even look him in the fucking EYE), the gifts, the touches, the dinner invitations. Stiles is L O S I N G  I T.

One Saturday its Dereks turn to grocery shop for the game room and he drags Stiles along and something he says makes Stiles realize that Derek isn’t just this great straight man that doesn’t care that Stiles is gay, he’s this great straight man that doesn’t KNOW Stiles is gay (he does, babe. The closet is clear.) and Stiles PANICS at the grocery store and shuts down and shuts Derek out and Derek is like fucking hell this guy is hard to read, he doesn’t like flirting or gifts or quality time maybe I just need to down right ask him if he wants me to leave him alone because MIND YOU this entire time Derek has been doing his BEST work, his next moves were going to include shirtless horse riding lessons (dont ask)

But they make it home with Stiles avoiding eye contact like its his job (which is not unusual for him, Derek has to admit) but he keeps avoiding him for the next couple days and he’s about to think that maybe he read it wrong maybe Stiles isn’t interested when he overhears Stiles talking to Peter about finding a replacement for him and fuck FUCK Derek has made him uncomfortable. The last thing he wants is for Stiles to leave because of him, he goes to bake ‘im sorry’ cookies or something but before he leaves he hears Peter trying to tell Stiles that he’s sure Derek really likes him. Like reallllllly likes him. Like really really likes him, and before Derek can get in there to shove his fist in Peters mouth, Stiles starts laughing. A little too loudly. Like okay why is it so funny babe?? And before Derek can get his feelings hurt he starts going on about how its impossible how they are from different worlds how beautiful and kind and put together Derek is and how lovely and thoughtful and strong he is and how next to him Stiles feels like nothing but a mess and no one wants that. Derek can smell Stiles eyes start to water. Peter doesn’t respond, maybe because he can sense that Derek is near but he doesn’t accept Stiles quasi-resignation, that his request is denied and that he should talk to Derek. Even as just a friend. Stiles softly accepts, slowly making his way back to his cabin. He’s dejected and confused, he doesn’t notice that Derek is following him, not until he goes to close the door to his cabin behind him and it hits Derek trying to walk in too. 

“Oh, sorry…” he mutters confused turning to look at the obstruction. 

Derek.

“H-hey. Derek.” 

And Derek just starts talking about how like he always wants to touch the beauty marks on Stiles face but Stiles looks like cream and Dereks hands are always dirty, no matter how many times he washes up and maybe thats why he didn’t come outright and just say how much he liked Stiles from that first dinner, he liked him before but that first dinner just cemented it, and he’s sorry about how he found out because he was eavesdropping (because he is southern and a gentlemen thank you) but he’s glad that he’s finally told him because Stiles deserves to know that someone looks at him and sees someone important and lovely and kind and beautiful, and the messy bits make him even more of all those things and stiles cannot hear anything anymore he leaps and kisses Derek and Derek catches him and kisses back and moans so loud into the kiss because Stiles tastes every bit as sweet as he dreamed he would and Stiles clings on for fucking dear life because he doesn’t remember kissing or being this close to another human being feeling this fucking good and right, it always just felt warm and kind of nice but this. This, he couldn’t even think. Remember his name, where they were, he never wanted it to end but wishes he never felt it at all because how is he supposed to go on about his day after this doing anything else other than kissing Derek Hale????????

[huffelpuff210]

Bucky Barnes x shifter reader

Summary: He knew you since you were a kid in HYDRA, people are cautious around you except for him.

You sighed as you walked down the hallway people would make a path as you walked people feared you, it has been six months since you were rescued from hydra and taken in by the avengers,

You still couldn’t decide if you just went from one prison to another sure there were no experiments, torture or mind wiping. But people were still wary of you, you were a animal shape shifter, your eyes showed it, one yellow like a wolf eye while the other was a jade green, it always freaked people out, you were only six years old when your so called family sold you to hydra, now thirteen years later you were a shell, barely cracked a smile, you barely talked, you never voiced your opinion, people didn’t like the way you talked your voice always harsher than what you were attempting to sound like,

Hydra trained you not to speak unless you were being spoken to. Even most of the avengers were not so sure about you….. except for one, Bucky Barnes you don’t know why he wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t,

It was late you were in the main living area looking out the window watching the snow fall, you were contemplating leaving for good this life wasn’t meant for you, people were so afraid of you, you were a ticking time bomb in everyone’s opinion, truthfully that wasn’t too far from the truth, you were constantly at war with the animals,

“Beautiful huh..” you look to your right to see Bucky you look out the window again, you simply nodded, sure you’ve spoken a few times to him and he didn’t take your tone personally, but still you hardly attempt to talk,

He claims he knew you at hydra but you couldn’t recall those memories,

You had so many missing fragments of your life you are lucky to even remember your name,

“you can talk to me,” he says

He says it every time you have no idea why he wants you to talk,

<3 <3 <3

Bucky was always watching you, sure it seemed like you were heartless and you didn’t like anyone but he knew better he knew you better than you knew yourself, he knew of the constant struggle and war with yourself, it didn’t help that everyone was always so cautious around you, like you were going to snap at the drop of a pin, it didn’t help that everyone avoided you like the plague, and it certainly didn’t help that everyone was afraid of you,

he knew the real reasoning behind why you wouldn’t speak and it down right pissed him off, he knew you for a very long time ever since you were brought in by hydra, he was in charge of you.

“I hate how you are being treated,” he finally said

You look at him confused

“You are not the monster people think you are.” He says

“At least one of us thinks that.” Your tone coming out harsh

It doesn’t bother him he smiles,

“I know you doll that is not the real you.” He says

“What’s the real me?” You asked

“Your kind, you don’t like hurting people.” He says

You don’t say anything,

You hear a door open down the hall and decide it was best for you to leave before anyone sees you,

Bucky watches as you leave, Steve enters the room, Steve is another one who doesn’t judge you, but you didn’t know that,you quickly leave taking the elevator to the bottom floor,

Steve sees Bucky walking towards him,

“You okay?” He asked

“I’m not the one you should be asking that,” Bucky responded watching as you leave the tower shifting into a cat and running off,

“Y/n?” Steve asked Bucky nodded

Little did anyone know that would be the last time they would see you for a while.

[fancyfeathers]

for the villain au for tim imagine that they were class mates or good friends but on a mission darling finds out abt the whole court of owl, so she starts avoiding tim but of course he soon finds out her identity

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Now Tim would know his darling’s identity before she even has an idea of who he truly is. For all she knows, he is just a sweet young man whose family lives in the same part of town as Wayne Manor.

How she would find out is almost heartbreaking.

It would be a late one night and it would be after she left the Robin mantle, so a number of years after she has met Tim. She is on an investigation, since a number of people who are have aimed for change in the city have gone missing, activists, a few good hearted politicians and police detectives, only for them to be turned up murder, pinned to the wall with knives.

Bruce thinks it is the Court of Owls but Tim’s darling tells him it’s only a myth and even he can be too paranoid sometimes…

But he was right.

She was investigating an old shut down sewer system underneath Gotham, Bruce had asked her to and she went just to prove to him that there was nothing there, turns out there was. She stumbled upon a false wall and soon finds herself in an underground room that somewhat resembles an old government hall, everyone but her wearing those same white owl masks and looking at her.

“There is an intruder, deal with this vermin-“

“No wait!”

There is a split second where everything stops closing in on her when someone yells out to leave her alone and she feels so dizzy, she was so focused on providing Bruce was wrong that she forgot to prepare for if he was right, including failing to recognize that those old abandoned sewer lines she walks down were filled with an invisible gas to deal with intruders.

One person in an owl mask catches her body before she falls unconscious, and they feel warm, they feel so safe…

When she wakes up, she is in a white padded room like one you would see in an insane asylum and her arms and legs are all tied up and soon enough that door to the room open and that same man in an owl mask who caught her walks in, and she is ready to rip him apart until he reaches up and removes the mask…

It’s Tim…

He looks guilty, telling her she was never supposed to find out and how he feels horrible about this and how-

Then she ask if he is going to let her go…

He pauses, looks down at her, and smiles…

“Let you go? Why would I do that, silly? Just because I didn’t want it to happen like this doesn’t mean I didn’t want this to happen at all. No, this is for your own good, no need to worry about you running around and hurting yourself playing hero, you’re safe here where I can keep you.”

[coolgrl111]

STALKER ! (part 3)

fratboy!patrick x reader

part 1

part 2

a/n: everyone thank @cyare-fi for begging me to make another part 🙂‍↕️

for the first time since this whole thing started, she felt something close to relief. someone else knew. someone else saw. she wasn’t losing her mind.

but that relief was short-lived. if art knew, if he was worried enough to warn her, then things were worse than she’d let herself believe.

her fingers trembled as she shut the door, locking it, checking it twice. she stared at the number in her hand, art’s rushed handwriting slanting across the paper.

stay out of sight. keep your door locked.

she pressed her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. what did staying out of sight even mean? stop going to class? avoid the dining hall? disappear completely? would she really have to do this save herself from patricia reign.

her phone buzzed. her stomach lurched.

unknown number: are you awake?

she didn’t move. didn’t breathe. because she already knew. patrick.

unknown number: i saw your light on.

her hands clenched around the paper, creasing it. was he outside? was he watching her right now?

another buzz.

unknown number: you’re ignoring me. that’s not very nice. :)

she wanted to throw up. she wanted to scream.

instead, she dialed the number on the paper. not even five minutes after he left.

art picked up on the first ring. “he’s texting you, isn’t he?”

she exhaled, barely holding it together. “i think he’s outside.”

a pause. then, “leave your dorm. now.”

“where do i even—”

“i’ll meet you. we’ll figure it out. but you need to move quickly.”

she hesitated for only a second before grabbing her hoodie and slipping out into the hallway, her heart hammering.

as she walked away from her door, her phone buzzed again.

unknown number: don’t run from me.

but she was already gone.

—

art found her on the corner of campus, his jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable. the dark night engulfed them, a dull street light being the only reason they weren’t consumed by darkness. “this is worse than i thought.”

“no kidding,” she muttered, tugging her sleeves over her hands.

he exhaled sharply, like he was making a decision in real time. “you need an excuse to be around me. to make him think you’re with me.”

her brows knit together. “what are you saying?”

his gaze locked onto hers, steady, certain.

“we’re dating. fake dating. anything to keep him away. ok?”

she stared at him, waiting for the punchline. when it didn’t come, she let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “fake dating? that’s your plan? this isn’t some cliche romcom. this is my safety.”

art shrugged, his expression grim. “patrick won’t stop until he thinks he’s lost. you need a reason to be around someone else—someone he can’t push out of the picture.”

she crossed her arms. “so you’re saying i’m yours now?”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “i’m saying you’re safe now.” his words settled between them like something heavy, something fragile.

“fine,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together to create warmth, “what’s the plan?”

—

they met up the next day in the campus café, two cups of coffee between them, whispering over their new relationship.

“we need rules,” art said, stirring his drink absentmindedly. “set times we meet up, set times we’re seen together. we need to look believable.”

she nodded, twirling the straw in her cup. “okay, so… what? holding hands? pda bullshit?” she chuckles.

he hesitated for half a second before nodding. “yeah. but not too much. you don’t strike me as the clingy type.”

her lips quirked. “thanks?”

“and kissing,” he continued, eyes flickering up to hers.

she swallowed. “how often?”

“enough to make patrick jealous.”

the weight of it settled between them. kissing art. it wasn’t a big deal, she’d kissed plenty of guys during her time at stanford, but no one as attractive as art.

“okay,” she said softly.

art exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.

—

she felt patrick’s gaze before she ever turned her head. it was an oppressive thing, sharp and unyielding, sinking into her skin like something tangible, something heavy. she didn’t need to look to know he was watching—watching the way art’s fingers laced through hers as they strolled across the quad, the easy way they leaned into each other as if it were second nature.

art slowed his steps, angling himself ever so slightly closer, his voice so low only she could hear it. “he sees us.”

she swallowed, feigning nonchalance as she squeezed his hand in silent acknowledgment. “good.”

art’s grip tightened, just for a moment, and then he stopped walking altogether, turning to face her with a slow deliberation that sent a jolt through her chest.

she knew what was coming before it happened. they had planned for this—discussed it in whispers over coffee, strategised how to make the illusion real enough to sink into patrick’s bones like poison. strong enough to hurt him, to make him falter.

but nothing could have prepared her for the way art’s hands found her waist with practiced ease, the way his touch was firm but not demanding, how his breath fanned against her skin the split second before his lips met hers.

it was careful at first, controlled, but only just. like he was testing the weight of the moment, measuring the distance between necessity and something else entirely.

and yet, there was something unspoken beneath it, a hesitation that lingered even as he deepened the kiss, his fingers pressing into her sides as if to remind her—i’m here. you’re safe.

she allowed herself to lean in, just slightly, just enough to sell the illusion. but the moment stretched longer than necessary, the air around them thick with something neither of them was ready to name.

when art finally pulled away, he didn’t step back immediately. his forehead nearly brushed hers, his lips parted like he might say something, might break whatever strange, delicate spell had settled between them.

but then he glanced past her, past the invisible line they had drawn, and saw patrick.

he was still. too still.

his jaw clenched, his fists curled at his sides, but his eyes—god, his eyes—burned with something close to devastation, something possessive and enraged and just a little bit desperate.

she smoothed her thumb over the corner of art’s mouth, an instinctual movement meant for performance but weighted with something more. “how do you think he’s taking it?” she murmured, careful to keep her voice light.

art exhaled sharply, though whether it was amusement or relief, she couldn’t tell. “not well.”

patrick looked like a man moments from losing control.

—

it had been days. days without so much as a glimpse of him, without the heavy weight of his stare pressing into her spine, without the paranoia of turning a corner and finding him there, waiting.

at first, it was unnerving. patrick didn’t disappear—he loomed, he lingered, he haunted. but as the silence stretched longer, uneventful and unbroken, she started to believe it was over.

art had started to drift, too. at first, he had been steady, unwavering, texting her to check in, lingering outside her dorm for a beat too long just to make sure she was safe. but as patrick’s absence stretched on, his urgency faded. she could feel him slipping back into his life, back to the way things were before all of this.

she told herself she didn’t mind.

until the knock came. it wasn’t the same knock that rebounded off her door like art’s. it was more desperate. who?

it was a little frantic, she felt it like a tremor in her chest. she hesitated, pulse skittering, before forcing herself to look through the peephole.

patrick.

but not the patrick she had come to expect—not the sharp-edged, predatory thing that had followed her like a shadow, not the arrogant smirk or the confident swagger. his grey “i told ya” shirt hung loosely off his body, drowning him. she didn’t recognise it, but she swore she had seen tashi duncan wearing it. maybe was sleeping around to fill the void? maybe he was finally done with his stalker ways.

he was different, his shoulders hunched inward, his hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was trying to make himself smaller, like he didn’t trust himself to be here.

she shouldn’t open the door.

but she did. like always.

he blinked at her, as if he hadn’t expected her to actually let him in, and for a long moment, he just stood there, lips parting but no sound coming out.

when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry.”

she didn’t answer. didn’t know how.

he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “i don’t—i don’t know why i acted like that.” his throat bobbed. “i was… crazy. i was crazy.” his laugh was sharp and humorless. “and i hate myself for it.”

her stomach twisted. he looked so pathetic—like he had unraveled completely, like he might cry if she so much as breathed wrong. and god help her, it made her feel bad.

he looked down, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. “i just… i don’t know how to want something without ruining it.”

she swallowed. “patrick…”

his eyes lifted to hers, wide and pleading. “i swear i’ll leave you alone. i just—i needed to say it. i needed you to know.”

she should tell him to leave. she should slam the door in his face.

but for some reason, she didn’t.

she trusted him.

[windblumewishes]

Malleus x Fem!Reader - My Heart Will Go On

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Listen to this while reading:

The time had come at last for (Y/N) to leave Twisted Wonderland and all throughout the school was a heavy weight of grief and sadness as a dear friend was to leave once and for all. You knew the sacrifice you were about to make, for once you stepped into the mirror you would never be able to return to the magical school ever again. As everyone gathered in the Mirror Chamber a heavy rain of sadness drenched the land outside and thunder roared in frustration, surely a certain Hornton was behind this storm. Crowley stood by the mirror and watched as you made your way down the aisle and to the mirror. 

Malleus appeared suddenly in a burst of green flames, you pause your steps and he approaches with sad emerald eyes. He offers you his arm for you to link with his own for the last time. You link arms and he walks you down the aisle and to the mirror, the air dense with sadness and heartbreak. 

“I once hoped that a walk down an aisle would not be for this…” Malleus said sadly as he looked into your eyes. “I hoped it was for a much happier and joyous occasion…”

You let some tears spill from your eyes as you approach the Mirror of Darkness, Crowley takes your hand and leads you into position, Malleus stands behind you staring, dreading what comes next. 

“(Y/N), wait…” Malleus pulls you close and places a long, passionate kiss on your lips one last time. “I will always love you, (Y/N)…Always.”

You kiss him once more for the final time, tears pouring from your eyes like a waterfall, your face red and puffy as you cry. You vow that if the time ever comes, you will see him again, you are unsure of how you will do so but you will.

“No matter how long it takes, Hornton, I will be back in your arms again…” You sob as a glowing light engulfs your body and you slowly fade away, returning to your own world.

Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

You awaken in your room, as if you had never left in the first place. It’s night time, the moon is full and its glow illuminates your bedroom. The faces of your friends and classmates still fresh in your mind, their sorrowful faces and the echoing of their cries as you were about to forever leave them. You could still feel Malleus’s arms around you as you lay in your bed, you choke out a sob knowing he is forever out of your reach- or so you thought.

There, on your ring finger was a ring, a ring he gave to you at Noble Bell College during that trip to Fleur City. The night after the incident, once the performance had concluded, Malleus stayed behind in the hall and placed the ring upon your finger as a symbol of promise to you until the day he may make himself yours fully and forever. 

The emerald glimmered in the moonlight and your heart ached terribly, the green was the same as his eyes. The eyes you had hoped to wake up to every morning with a passionate kiss and a gentle hand caressing your still sleepy face. No, that was gone now, so was your Hornton…

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

For many days after you left Twisted Wonderland the land had been plagued with thunderstorms. Malleus was a mess, it was a wonder he had not overblotted yet again. Silver, Sebek, and Lilia all knew grieving took time, Malleus. He spent many nights crying himself to sleep looking at your photographs, reading letters you wrote him and watching videos the two of you made together. 

As months passed he knew he had to move on, it was difficult, and his heart was still telling him to stay in the past and cling to you, the promise ring on his finger was one of his many reminders of you… every now and then he would wander to the school courtyard and wish into the well for you to return to him, he did not care how, he just wanted you back. Soon enough, his visits to the wishing well became less frequent, knowing his wishes would likely never come true.

He stopped visiting Ramshackle dorm all together too, the dorm became too painful for him to visit. Even your memorial that was setup outside the dorm was too painful to look at. He did, on occasion, pay it a visit and leave flowers but it made him sick to his stomach to even go there, it was not the same as going to the dorm to pay you a visit at night. 

You used to tease him by calling him Romeo when he would sneak to Ramshackle and throw pebbles at your window to get you to peek out or even run down the stairs and outside to meet him. He missed that, oh he missed it terribly…

He paid the Shroud brothers a visit to see if they could find some way to get him to your world, of course they both sadly shook their heads and told him it was impossible.

“Look, Malleus… I get it, you want (Y/N) back but… even if we could, which we can’t- believe me I’ve tried for months now, dude, I just can’t crack whatever magical code this thing has- it’s too OP even for a genius hacker like yours truly. T-that’s srsly saying something, man!” Idia sighed, slumping back into his gaming chair in defeat. 

“Malleus, if Big Brother and I ever find anything at all I can assure you that you would be the first to know… we cannot guarantee we will find out how to connect our worlds again but if we do I will personally pay you a visit, okay?” Ortho replied, putting a gentle robotic hand on Malleus’s shoulder in an act of comfort.

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on

Once more, you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

A few years later you marry and have children of your own, your husband, coincidentally, reminds you so much of your Hornton. His eyes are a similar green, his hair as black as ebony, his smile sweet yet mischievous. He also had a fascination with old buildings and architecture, gargoyles too. If anything it was almost as if you truly married Malleus- well, the Malleus of your world. 

You lay in your hospital bed with a handsome newborn boy in your arms, Malleus is his name, you wanted to have a piece of him in your world, even if it was only by name. Your husband asked you about the inspiration for the name as he thought it was indeed an interesting choice but not opposed to it in the slightest. 

“It was the name of someone in a story I read once, thought it would fit him…” You smile softly at the sleeping infant in your arms, your daughter, Aurora, climbs up next to you and rests her head on your arm. 

“Was it like how you came up with my name? Naming me after the Sleeping Princess from that story, mummy?” 

You nod, a stray tear falling from your eyes as you think of all your memories of the days of old… truly the heart wanted to stay in the past despite all the time that had gone. 

Love can touch us one time

And last for a lifetime

And never let go 'til we're gone

Malleus had moved on as well- or as much as he could possibly manage. He married Sebek’s older sister and had two children, his second child, a baby girl, was named after you. He cried tears of happiness the second he held her in his arms. Like you with your children, he too wanted a small piece of you in his life that he gave the child the gift of your name to carry on and hopefully pass down to her own children. 

Malleus sat in her nursery rocking her with tearful eyes, she had your name. You would have loved his baby girl if you could have met her. He could only wonder if you married well and were gifted with children of your own. 

He knew of other classmates of yours and his that too were blessed by children and amazing lives after graduation from Night Raven College. 

Riddle became a father of twin daughters and a successful lawyer. Vil continued his acting career and married a wonderful woman who gave him three beautiful children, a boy and two girls. Azul became a successful realtor for multimillion dollar homes and properties and had a son. Kalim found love and married well, he and his wife are now expecting baby number five. Malleus had written to each of them expressing his utmost congratulations for the births of their beautiful children, they too sent their own messages to check on him and make sure all was well even after the years had passed.

Malleus sat back in the rocking chair with a sigh, putting his daughter atop his chest, one hand atop her back and one under her bum to support her. He knew if you could see everyone again you would be so happy, everyone was doing so well. Malleus still checked in with the Shroud brothers but neither of them had an update on connecting the worlds, Idia had even paid the Briar Valley a visit to show his findings on the data he had collected but with no success in the connection. 

And still, his heart must go on…

Love was when I loved you

One true time I'd hold to

In my life, we'll always go on

You became a successful author and illustrator, spending many years writing about your journey in Twisted Wonderland, eventually the story got picked up by a major company and became a popular mobile game with a television program in the works.

Your children loved the stories, even taking part in special events for the story releases and dressing up for conventions. No one would ever know that what they were reading and playing was based on a true story about your own adventures, hearing the same words they said to you or to another. However, this was now their story where they played as themselves, you wanted them to have a piece of the magic.

You saw the occasional person wearing merchandise from your story, the keychains of Grim brought a tinge of sadness to you knowing that he was gone too. You designed dolls of each of the housewardens, the doll of Malleus being a top seller. 

“See, Hornton? You are loved even in this world… I made sure to tell your story here too…”

And told it you did. In multiple interviews with the press about your story you said that this was merely a tale that had come to you once upon a dream, but little did they all know that this story was a true story, not a Dream no matter how crazy it may sound. Yes, a fae prince who constantly got forgotten from invites coming to pay you nightly visits in your dilapidated dormitory sounds insane, but so does being picked up by a horse drawn carriage while your body lays within the confines of a coffin only to be taken to an arcane academy where all the boys there seem to have ties to fairytale stories in your own world. However, those fairytales for you were their reality. A true twisted wonderland. 

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on (why does the heart go on?)

Many years have now passed, you are now old. Same would go for the others in the world you had left behind, some gone, some clinging to life. Malleus himself, while old, was not yet done with his time. Idia’s son, as well as grandson have made a breakthrough in finding a way to crack part of the code that separated your world and theirs.

Idia’s grandson and son burst into the throne room where Malleus sat. The boy, Demetrius, approached Malleus nervously, a small smile on his face and a nod. Malleus knew exactly what the boy was saying even without words. 

“M-Malleus, my son cracked it- well partially… you see, it’s only able to slip small things through- perhaps photographs or even letters? It can reach (Y/N) in her world!”

Malleus stood up, gasping, a stray tear fell from his eyes as he made his way towards the Shroud family. 

“I-is this true…? Please… tell me you don’t jest…” 

“Malleus… My boy is telling the truth… we sent a maddol into their world, we received a signal from the other world’s news outlets that a mysterious currency made it into their world. Baffled the world- turns out there’s a whole government that believes this is a threat fuehehehe!” Idia’s son, Theo and his son, Demetrius snickering at what they had done. “My dad, Idia, would’ve wanted you to come with us and see what we have gotten… he entrusted this project to us.”

Malleus goes with the Shrouds to the Isle of Woe, a photo of himself and you in his hands and other photos he had collected from schoolmates who had sent him letters over the years. Before him stood a portal, strong enough to send the photos to your world, giving the news another bout of confusion. Malleus quickly wrote a letter, hoping you would read it, even see a small glimpse of it. 

He wrote of how he had been doing, how Riddle’s daughters became counselors at Night Raven College, how Rook became a skilled archeologist with an incredible family to follow his legacy after he passed. Deuce’s daughter married Ace’s son of all people, and of how unfortunately Deuce had died in action as an officer. Malleus wrote about Silver’s legacy in the Briar Valley, opening homes for orphaned children and creating special opportunities for them. He wrote of Sebek too, his time as an incredible knight before he passed. He wrote of everyone, he wanted you to know everything about the world you had left. 

He sealed the letter in the envelope, kissing it and sending it through the portal with the photographs… praying that you would find them.

——

On the other side of the portal you sat in your home, your grandson and son taking care of you, you were almost one hundred and one by now but you were doing well, still quick as a whip and able to move around as if you were still in your seventies. On the television you heard a voice on the news say that a strange envelope had appeared out of nowhere with photographs of people who looked like they were from the story you had written, and the news anchor began to read the letter.

It was him, Hornton… 

“Turn that up, dear!” You call to your grandson who turns up the volume, there on the screen you see a photo of you and Malleus in Noble Bell College together. “Oh by the Great Seven! Hornton!”

“Grandma, isn’t that…!” You nod, smiling at him with tears in your eyes. 

“It’s been eighty four years and I can still smell the damp wood of the old Ramshackle dorm…”

Once more, you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

You pass away, joining everyone else in heaven, you see all your friends from Night Raven College again. They all look as they did all those years ago, young and fresh faced. You all stood there in the Mirror Chamber awaiting the final member to join you all. The housewardens and others stood in their respective rows as you stood by the mirror. 

What may have been days for you all in heaven, it was almost hundreds of years later when Malleus had passed away. The gates of Night Raven College opened again and Malleus walked through, he saw all his old schoolmates and his family, Silver, Sebek and Lilia smiled brightly as they led him inside. Then he saw it…

You were standing by the mirror, turning around happily with Grim by your side. You smiled at Malleus, extending a hand to him. He runs over to you and holds you close, kissing you passionately and the entire school cheers. It had been so many years and all of them had waited for this moment, for you both to join them and be together at last.

“I never stopped waiting, my love…”

You're here, there's nothing I fear

And I know that my heart will go on 

We'll stay forever this way

You are safe in my heart and 

My heart will go on and on

- Windblume