#they’re both about love though. and the horrors of course

[ver0n1ca-l0dge]

riverdale vs iwtv (there's one correct answer)

riverdale is my perfect princess and if I had to pick one to be preserved on earth forever it would be her but iwtv gets really freaky with it in a different way than riverdale. Like if riverdale is a Great American Novel mourning all we’ve lost to late-stage capitalism iwtv is like. Antigone. And I think the difference really speaks to the respective source material (dime comics vs pulpy horror) because of course Archie is about the banality of capitalist suburbia and therefore a perfect choice for a soap opera and iwtv is abt grief and the chicness of vampirism so obviously it’s a period family drama. Anyway yeah like I’d fuck iwtv marry riverdale and kill idk good omens probably

[remlionheart]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡MDNI ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᡣ𐭩 I really have no excuse for this tbh, it’s midnight and I’m ovulating and overly eager boyfriend Yuuji was heavy on my mind 🙂‍↕️💫 ((aged up characters)) yuujixfem!reader ᡣ𐭩

yuuji who just loves touching you 24/7. whose hand is always so eager to brush across your skin, he often forgets his surroundings.

the two of you are on his couch one night with some b-grade horror movie that he and junpei wanted to watch playing in the background. junpei’s sitting on the floor next to you guys, both of them going back and forth with so many trivial facts about the film you don’t even see how they’re paying attention to it.

your eyes are heavy, your body spooned against yuuji’s with a throw blanket loosely covering you. his fingers are running through your hair, him and junpei still going on and on - something about the director’s cut and an alternate ending when suddenly, his other hand is wedging itself between your thighs.

playing with the opening of your shorts as your eyes dart to his from over your shoulder. he grins back at you, holding a finger to his lips. junpei continues to stare at the screen in front of him, completely unaware of the other show that’s about to start promptly behind him.

the movie flickers across the grainy tv screen, an eerie piano melody echoing across the room while the main girl finds herself lost and alone in a dark forest as a thunderstorm starts. you’re doing everything you can to focus on the details of it. to avoid flinching from the way yuuji spreads you apart. his two thick fingers tentatively grazing along your folds, gathering up slick you didn’t even realize was there causing you to grind further into him. your back arching so perfectly it makes his cock twitch.

you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep in case junpei decides to look up at either of you. you know he probably won’t given how entranced he is by this director - but still! this is reckless, even for your perpetually-ready-to-make-you-cum boyfriend.

yuuji keeps somehow talking though. keeps laughing and acting like his dick isn’t hard as a fucking rock and pressed firmly against your ass as he begins to lazily play with your clit, drawing heavenly circles that have you suddenly biting at the side of your hand to keep yourself from letting out a dangerously suppressed moan.

you do your absolute best to pretend you’re still asleep, carefully rolling over to face him as he continues to nonchalantly toy with you. lightly running uppp and downnn your slit. you feel like you’re going to explode, pathetically attempting to pass off a whimper as a yawn when you feel him start to prod at your entrance.

“aw, she’s tired huh?” junpei comments.

“yeah,” yuuji smiles, biting back a laugh at the way your mouth drops open and you eyes nearly cross when he finally slips a finger into you. “she’s pretty spent.”

a chase scene ensues, the loud stomps and suspenseful music of the killer running after his victim being enough to cover up the wet, squelching sounds of yuuji’s fingers slamming blissfully into your gummy walls.

he smiles at you again, mouthing “it’s okay, it’s okay.” as his fingers go deeper, but slower, hitting that spot you like at just the right angle.

“hey junpei, sorry to ask but - would you mind grabbing me a beer?”

“oh yeah, of course” he says, getting to his feet.

the moment he’s out of the room, yuuji’s suddenly knuckles deep again, your needy little cunt clamping around him so nice and snug while your eyes and body both plead with him.

he lets his mouth catch all of the cute, desperate noises you can’t hold back anymore, his tongue swirling against yours feverishly while you struggle to keep your voice down. luckily though, your lewd whines seem to blend perfectly into the screams coming from the tv.

“your pussy’s so soft ‘n so pretty, y’know that?” he whispers, reeling in the way you’re drenching him. “i could play with it forever if you’d let me.”

his words make you dizzy, your body instantly wanting him back where he was as he pulls out and licks his fingers clean from the mess you made, letting out his own little groan at your taste. “you’ll get the whole thing later, don’t worry.” he promises, placing a light kiss on your forehead right as junpei re-enters the room and hands him his beer.

“what all did i miss?”

“not much,” yuuji muses, cracking open his drink. “he finally got her off…”

your heart stutters in your chest, your knee swiftly nudging his.

“…the path she was on.” he finishes, swallowing down his beer. “she was soaked by the time he caught up to her.”

you softly pinch him, feeling him smile as junpei laughs, none the wiser.

the two of them continue on with their banter while you actually do doze off this time. yuuji’s hand gliding across your neck as he silently begins counting down the minutes until he gets to bury himself inside of you again.

he just can’t help it :((( he loves touching you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[ddejavvu]

I love your best friend with no boundaries James, and I was wondering if you could do one where James and reader are having their regularly scheduled mid-day naps, and Sirius and Remus walk into the dorm to find James just humping reader while they’re asleep? Maybe James and reader wake up to the GASP of horror from Sirius after his not so innocent eyes witness “straight up porn in their shared dorm where Peter of all people could witness”

I love all your works and was wondering if I could be marked as 😻anon? I’m the person who requested the bsf Steve imagine and I’m 100% gonna request something again because you’re perfect and I just wanna kiss you on the mouth🫶🏻🫶🏻

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius considers himself James's best friend- no, brother, but he's not afraid to whack the man upside the head when he finds James grinding on you in his sleep.

"You-! Nasty-! Fucker-!" He bullies James awake, appreciating the much calmer, kinder way that Remus rouses you, tugging you away from James on the bed and murmuring that your nap is over. You blink your eyes open serenely, and James's shoot wide in pain as Sirius assaults him.

"What the fuck? Agh- Sirius! I know you're mad that I've got the better potions grade, but killing me won't help!"

"This isn't about potions, Potter," Sirius scoffs, "But I am thinking about tossing you in a hot cauldron. You were- eeugh, you were humping her, you animal!"

Your brows are furrowed and your blinks are bleary, but your brain catches up with the help of Remus's hands where they trace soothing circles on your back.

"Oh," You mumble groggily, as James groans with quickly reddening cheeks, "Uh- s'alright, Jamie."

Remus's hand stills on your back, but James and Sirius join in a fused indignant-confused "What?"

"S'just natural I guess," You shrug, "I dunno, I haven't- er, got one. But it was an accident, Jamie, you were asleep. It's alright."

James’s cheeks are still plenty rouged, but he nods sleepily at your forgiveness, relieved that he's not being hit by two people instead of only one.

"Yeah, thanks bird," He flops back down onto the mattress, letting out a sigh heavily infused with relief, "Wouldn't do it on purpose, y'know. Not while you're sleeping, that's- that's pervy."

"Some people like pervy," You hum, settling back into your own position in James's bed, though he's no longer curled around you. Sirius watches as you knock your hand against his own, "Sirius thinks I'm a perv."

"You're both pervs," Sirius grimaces, his lip curled in distaste as Remus stands from James's bedside, "Seriously, he eats off of your spoons, you've seen his dick, he's been grinding all over your ass - if you don't get a marriage license soon you're going to be very unpopular with the traditional crowd."

James turns towards you with a gasp, his eyes shining just the same as his grin does, "We could get married!"

"We should," You laugh, "And we could get a flat, and we could have your mother over for dinner every Tuesday."

"That would work." He nods, fully settled back into the pillows from Sirius's disturbance, "She loves you. And she's free Tuesday nights - her knitting circle ends at three."

"I know that," You scoff, barely biting back an overexaggerated eye roll, "James, I write your mother once a week. I know when her knitting circle is."

"You write my mum?" He rears back, momentarily confused, "She's never told me that!"

"Of course she hasn't," You snicker, "Because if you'd known, you would have stopped me from telling her how many times you get detention every week, and you'd want to share the sweets she sends me in exchange for the intel."

[prentissluvr]

dead eyes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, canon typical violence, blood, death, weapons, and monsters (shifter), reader has a panic attack, character death (in a dream), nightmares, crying, kisses, unedited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : killing a shifter with sam's appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

his dead eyes. you shouldn’t have looked.

when you do, it feels like you’re being tilted on your axis, and your vision swims for a moment. his voice, though distant, brings you out of it. we should go find dean, he says, voice gentle like he caught a glimpse of the horror that flashes over your features. horror because they’re his dead eyes.

but it’s not over yet. there’s still another shifter in the house, and the adrenaline of an active hunt doesn’t let you dwell on it.

you had gotten separated, just like you said you wouldn’t, and when sam showed back up, you had to point your gun at him, you had to keep him at a distance. this proved smart when another sam walks in. your sam, you think, because he’s carrying the silver knife he took on the hunt today… and because it feels like him. but you couldn’t be sure.

so you kept your gun up and ready to turn on either one at a moment's notice, even when the mere idea of shooting sam, even a fake one, made you sick to your stomach. what if i shoot the real sam? you had thought to yourself in a terrified moment before your insincts kicked in.

you offered to test yourself first, slipping out your silver knife and cutting a thin line to prove to the real sam that you can be trusted. the shifter and sam stare each other down, and the one that you think is your real sam offers to test himself with his own knife. right as he brings the blade to his forearm, the other lunges towards sam, pulling out a long dagger and aiming right for the heart.

two shots rang out through the air before you could even think about it, and the shift dropped dead at sam’s feet.

now, as you find dean, just barely having killed the last shifter, you know that your instincts served you well, and saved both you and sam. but it had all happened so fast. the realization that there was more than one shifter, getting separated from the brothers, then the confrontation with both sams. your sam, who was calm and collected, but didn’t try to worm his way into getting you to trust him. and the shifter, who wore sam’s face and played with you.

he had insisted he was the real sam, he had chosen to confuse you. sure, to buy himself some time… but you think it was for the pure entertainment of it too. that’s exactly what the shifters had done to their previous victims; posed as their loved ones, but turned violent and angry until the victims tried to hurt or even kill them in self-defense. then they'd guilt their victim for trying to hurt someone they love. and then of course they’d kill them, with their loved one’s face as the last thing they see. they were a violent, messed up pair of monsters, and you’re glad to be rid of them.

but they got to you too. maybe you are their final victim, because sam’s voice saying please don’t hurt me keeps replaying in your head. then there’s sam’s body falling to the ground, blood pooling under him so fast and his eyes open in death. 

it wasn’t sam. you know it wasn’t sam. but in the car ride back to the motel you’re overwhelmed with images of his dead body anyway. and the fact that you had to point that gun at the real sam because you couldn’t be too sure. looking down the barrel of a gun and sam being at the end of it… it just about kills you.

from his seat in the front of the car, sam knows that you’re struggling. he can feel it. your eyes on the back of his head, looking haunted when he glances back with a silent smile of reassurance. and he can’t even see your hands where they are, tucked into your lap, but he knows you well enough that it’s like he can physically feel the way they’re shaking. he wishes he could wrap his solid hands around your trembling fingers and rub your back to soothe your breathing.

he’ll have to wait until you get to the motel, and he’s thankful the drive is almost over. the silence of the car isn’t a comfortable one.

dean reads the room easily and takes to the shower the moment you arrive. before the door to the bathroom is even shut, sam pulls you into his arms, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and the other planted on the back of your head to keep you close.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against you. “i know you’d never hurt me. you don’t have to worry about that.”

the way that he hand picks words and tone and volume for you, with ease and purpose and a complete knowledge of you, your heart, and your mind makes you melt into his hold. you mold to his body, you hug him back so tight, and you cry a few tears. just a few, because his arms around you are grounding and real and better than anything else you could ever ask for. you thought you might fall into a panic, let your anxieties and tendency to overthink things get the better of you. he fixes it all with a hug.

a hug and a love for you that compares to nothing at all. it’s like the way that he holds you and the way that he knows you, gently close the gaps where worry and fear and tears slip through. no stitches, no needle and thread, just soft bandages that hold you together.

⟢⟢⟢

you kill sam in your dreams. you don’t remember anything else. just what it’s like to point your gun at him and shoot with intent. what it’s like to press your hands to the bleeding wounds you made and see his eyes go still. you wake before you can close them with bloody hands.

you’re trembling and you don’t think you’re breathing quite right.

it’s just a dream. it was just a dream. none of it is real. you would never hurt sam, never on purpose. 

with a sharp twist of your neck, you look over at his sleeping form from your spot on the pullout couch. 

you share a bed much more often than not, but this motel is out of rooms with queen beds. last time you slept in a twin bed with him you almost fell to the floor even with him holding you close. that thought brings you out of it for a moment. but seeing him so still in bed is too scary for you to stay calm for any longer than that.

he’s fine, you think desperately. he’s just sleeping. if you could take the time to let your eyes adjust to the dark or see through the tears in your eyes, you’d be able to catch the rise and fall of his breathing. but you can’t.

you can’t even keep track of your own breathing as you stumble out of bed and towards him before realizing at the last moment that you don’t want to wake him.

so you put a hand to your chest and try to breathe as you turn around and make your way to the motel room door on shaky legs. the tears run and run like they can outpace the fear, maybe drown it, and you don’t realize how much noise you’re making as you fumble with the lock and the handle and the door that wasn’t this heavy earlier today.

you’re looking for the cold. the wind, maybe rain if you’re lucky. you’re looking for something to feel that’s not a phantom of your nightmares or suffocating guilt and terror. how could you even dream that? how could you?

and you can’t breathe, you don’t think that you can breathe as your knees buckle and you sit down hard on the concrete outside. it would hurt if you could feel it.

you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head between your knees because you know somewhere in the back of your mind that you’re having a panic attack. but from your position on the ground and the intensity of your anxiety, it’s not enough. you gasp and gasp and can’t hear sam’s footsteps or your name falling from his lips until he’s right in front of you.

he doesn’t touch you for fear of startling you, but he says your name so soft and steady and worried.

“please look at me, honey,” he asks. sleep tints his voice, love colors it. “it’s alright. you’re alright. i’m alright.”

looking at him is hard because he’s already there, behind your eyelids and bleeding out. but he’s alright. that was his voice saying it, his voice calling you honey and maybe if you open your eyes and look up, he won’t sound so distant the next time he talks.

he’s in front of you. the sight of him sways a little, but he’s there and if you’re seeing well enough, he looks so concerned. so sorry and worried and a little helpless because he wants to bring you out of it and isn’t sure if it’s working yet.

but you hear him and you listen, and when he can see your eyes, it’s a little bit better. when you can see his eyes, it’s a little bit better. they are not open in death. they are alive and feeling and looking at you with love and pain and softness and sorrow. he’s so sorry that you’re so scared of hurting him.

“can you focus on me, love?” he asks, noting your distant eyes and faraway mind and wanting more than anything to bring you back to him.

like a miracle, you find out that you can. you can focus on his eyes, and then his voice, and then you see him holding a hand out in case you want something physical to ground yourself with. it’s instinct to grab his hand, to grip it and steady yourself with it like you have a million times before for a million different reasons. like when you got tipsy and wobbly or when you wanted to go home but you didn’t have one. when you missed him or when you twisted your ankle or fell in love. when you killed him in your dreams.

you still gasp for air and you still cry. but sam is there and that means you’re going to be okay. that means he’s okay, at least for now. he makes for now enough, and you’ll make sure that it’s always. i’ll protect him, you tell yourself. you’ll protect him.

but for now he’ll be the one to protect you; tonight it’s from your fears and the cruel tricks of your mind. he pulls your shaky form into him. he rubs your back and kisses your forehead and your breathing slows down. the air comes into your lungs and it stays there long enough to make a difference. you feel the cold and the breeze on your skin. there’s no rain, but the moon can be seen and it hangs over sam’s head. the moon reminds you of sam.

you walk yourself out of the panic attack without even needing him to ask you for five things you see or four things you can feel. he’s proud of you for it. of course, it’s his being there that helps you more than anything.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “there you go. i got you.” he smooths his hand over the back of your head, soft and slow and sturdy. when your eyes flutter closed, the only thing you see is the imprint of the bright moon against your eyelids for a moment. the rest is dark and calm.

the fabric of his sleep shirt gets all bunched up in your weak hands. the t-shirt is soft and thin from wear and it feels familiar in between your sleepy fingers. it’s october. he’s probably cold.

i’ll protect him, you remember. your fingers loosen and the fabric falls away from your hold. it rides up and exposes his skin to the wind when you rub up his back. it falls back over the hem of his jeans when you rub down. you’re trying to warm him, but your hands are shaky and small compared to the expanse of his back, even smaller compared to the expanse of the sky.

for a moment sam isn’t sure what you're doing, but he smiles so sadly when he realizes. his heart aches with love and adoration.

“let’s get inside,” he whispers. you nod against his chest. he’ll be warmer inside. so will you. you might be shivering. he hoists you to your feet with steady care. your knees feel weak, but you hold his hand tight and walk back into the room. sam closes and locks the door, the guides you to his bed. he sits you down on the edge and crouches in front of you, wiping softly at your tears. then he leans forward and up to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to the spot between your eyebrows.

you fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he accepts you happily. he rubs your back soothingly, lets you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he holds you there until you sit up. he lets his legs go sore and doesn’t care about it one bit. you heave out a huff of breath and he cups your face, thumbing softly at your cheekbone. your hand slowly wraps around his wrist, then you turn your head to kiss the heel of his palm.

“let’s sleep,” you mumble against his skin. with a soft heart, sam obliges, climbing into the small bed after you. he bundles you up into his arms before pulling the covers over your warming bodies. he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a long moment before he rests his cheek against the same spot.

“goodnight, sam,” you whisper softly, voice still holding a hint of its earlier shakiness.

“goodnight, honey,” he echoes, voice just as soft and prettily hushed. he wants to say more, maybe another ‘it’s okay’ or sweet reassurance. he wants to make sure you know that he’s not afraid of you hurting him, that he trusts you and that loves you all the way. but he thinks you already know, and that you’re better suited for silence now.

he’ll tell you tomorrow.

[emchante]

when the silence breaks

part 1 | masterlist | requesting rules

summary: after a painful night at the club, the days that followed are filled with silence and heartache. that is, until a late-night knock at your door comes from a drenched and regretful yet determined max verstappen.

NOTE: no warnings are really needed, all you need to know is this is a part 2, and it’s just angst with a happy ending/ hurt+comfort.

w.c: 2.1k

a/n: part 2 to the max angst, this was written for the lovely @inevesgf again of course; but there was a few requests for a part 2 from you guys so here it is! i hope you all enjoy the ending, and let me know your thoughts on this via reblog, comments or asks! reminder that requests are open if you guys have any ideas.

it’s been a few days since the incident at the club, and the emotional toll has weighed on you heavily. every time your phone buzzes, you always look over in hope that one of the notifications are from max, but it’s never him.

the silence was deafening.

you’ve spent the past few days in a haze, constantly replaying the night at the club in your head, each time you remember what was said you feel a shot through your chest, negative emotions overtaking you.

tonight you’re having a night in, blanket wrapped around your shoulders on the sofa as you try to distract yourself with one of your favourite films. it doesn’t do much to help though, because it doesn’t take long for memories of max to come flooding in; it was his favourite movie too.

you end up barely paying attention, the tv merely acting as a background light. the sounds of rain battering against the window only adds to the melancholy atmosphere.

you realised you were gaining nothing from this, so you’re about to give up on the film when a sudden knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. with furrowed brows you glance over to the clock, which lets you know it’s just past eleven. you debate in your mind if it’s worth even answering— who knocks on someone’s door at this time of night?

but against your better judgement, you hesitantly make your way to the front door. your heart is pounding, anxiety running through your body as your hand shakily reaches for the handle. looking around, you realise you have nothing to protect yourself with, should this be a scary encounter.

you were ready to be met with horrors at the other side of the door, but you weren’t expecting to be met with the sight of a soaked max verstappen. he’s drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead from the rain, and his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. despite his disheveled appearance, there’s a mix of determination and regret in his eyes.

you hadn’t even noticed the bunch of flowers he was holding until he shuffled them in his hands, and only then did they catch your eye. your eyes widened in shock, seeing that he had bought you your favourite flowers. “i know they’re a little.. worse for wear,” he awkwardly coughed out, holding them out for you.

you took them from his grasp, muttering a thank you as you held them to your chest. your eyes fitted over max again, watching as he anxiously moved from balancing his weight on one foot to another.

for a moment, neither of you speaks another word. the silence is thick, and there’s words on the tip of both your tongues, but you don’t dare speak first, and it seems like he doesn’t either.

the intensity of his gaze is what’s keeping you grounded, not letting your thoughts get the better of you. you can’t seem to break eye contact with him, and it seems like an eternity before your body finally moves; and you signal for him to come inside as you step to the side.

max nods at you, taking one step inside before he turns his head turns to look at you. his presence is overwhelming, your back against the wall as you continue to stare up at him. you gulp at the proximity, letting out a shaky breath before you tell him to head into the living room.

your words break him out of whatever trance he was in, and he lets out a low hum as he follows your instructions. you close the front door as he walks away, letting out a deep sigh before turning around, walking into the living room as you try to calm your nerves down.

you’re stood at the doorframe of the living room, leaning against it as you wait for him to take a seat on the sofa. but it never happens, max simply doing a 180 to face you. the tension is palpable, the air thick with unresolved emotions.

it’s silent for a few moments before max is the first one to speak up. “i’m sorry,” is all he manages to get out, his voice low yet hoarse. it’s only now that he’s inside and out of the rain you can actually see it— he’s been crying. it the hoarse voice wasn’t a giveaway, his eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed— and it was obvious it wasn’t just raindrops rolling down his cheeks.

you sigh, shaking your head at him. “max, you don’t need to apologise, it’s my fault we’re in this mess,” you told him, eyes trained on the wooden flooring beneath your feet. swallowing hard, you felt tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. a sad smile paints itself upon your lips as you finally meet eye contact with him again. “you don’t have to feel the same way, max. i shouldn’t have said anything about my feelings that night, especially when i was far from sober.”

max’s eyes widen in surprise, your response far different from what he was expecting. it takes a couple of moments before his brain finally connects the dots; that you’re under the impression he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. panic flashes across his features as he quickly shakes his head at you. “no, no, that’s not what i meant,” he begins to explain himself, stepping closer to where you are in the doorframe. “i didn’t come to tell you that i don’t love you.”

your gaze is casted upon the floor again, not having it in yourself to look at him. your heart aches as you try to keep your composure, “max, really— it’s fine,” you insist, despite the tremble in your voice. “i don’t need you to reassure me you love me in a different way, i know it’s platonic.” you tell him, eyes closing when you see his feet fall into your eyesight.

max feels a wave of desperation wash over him as he hears how hurt you are, the defeat evident in your voice. he reaches out, gently grabbing onto your forearm as he pulls at it, uncrossing your folded arms. he gives your arm a squeeze and instinctively you look up at him. you can see the distress in his eyes, his confidence he has every other day is non-existent at this moment in time.

you go to take your arm back, but max’s grip is firm, a contrast to the soft “stop” he let’s out in return. the desperation in his voice captivates you, and you find yourself listening to him, and what he has to say.

just a moment ago you could see the distress in his eyes, but now— now, they were clouded with too many emotions to read, especially in your current state. the seconds feel like hours, the silence between you both almost suffocating. you want to stand your ground, tell him to let you go, let him know he doesn’t need to say what you already know— but the words are stuck in your throat, tangled with the fear you’re feeling.

max opens his mouth before shutting it again, his jaw clenched as he tries to make sense of his thoughts and he wants to say. “i… i need you to listen to me,” he finally says, his own voice trembling. he lets go of your arm, and instead of stepping back, he takes another step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

your heart races as you look up at him, the space between you both slowly becoming non-existent, aswell as the fierce eye contact felt like it was going to kill you. “max.. if you’re going to say you don’t feel the same, you don’t have to—“

“that’s not it!” he lets out desperately, shaking his head sharply as he interrupts you. he runs a hand through his damp hair, his frustration evident. he’s never been the best with his words, never the type to open up to you about feelings such as infatuation or love, his emotions were always a touchy topic. you can tell he’s wrestling with his thoughts, trying to get the truth out to you.

“i was scared,” he admits, his voice rough with emotion. “i’ve been scared of messing this up, of losing you, and that fear—“ he stops himself for a moment, inhaling deeply and tries to gather himself. “that fear made me push you away, and i shut myself off. and i regret it, i regret it so much, because it gave off the impression i didn’t care, or that i didn’t feel the same.”

your breath hitches, your heart rate quickening as you process what he just told you. the pounding in your ears from your heartbeat was almost too much to bare, but you pushed through because you needed to know what he was going to say. “then why..?” you trail off shakily, allowing max to explain himself.

max met your gaze again, and this time the emotions in his eyes were clear and unmistakable, and it caused a deep warmth to heat up your cheeks. “because i do love you,” he confesses so quietly, you wondered if you made it up until you continues to talk, “and that terrified me. it still does to an extent. but the thought of losing you is so much worse.”

your breath catches in your throat as you take in everything he said, allowing max’s words to sink in. you’ve spent so long hoping and dreaming for this moment, in so many different scenarios— but never did you imagine this specific one.

“i love you,” he repeats, his voice still quiet, scared as if the words are going to do more damage than he had caused previously.

you know you heard him right when he repeated it, and it didn’t do anything to slower your heartbeat, rather it made it pound even harder. without thinking, you move a little closer, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, searching for the tiniest bit of proof to help you realise this is all real, and not some sick dream. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and that simple feeling sends a rush through your veins.

“max,” you whisper, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer, like a question, like a thousand emotions wrapped up in one word.

max doesn’t wait any longer. in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist and pulling you against him. there’s a brief moment where both of you hesitate, breath mingling in the tiny space between you, eyes locked onto one another for confirmation.

then, with a soft, almost desperate sound, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is everything, months of pent-up emotion, of hope, longing and — especially the past few nights — fear, all rolled into one. it’s messy, passionate and perfect in its on way. his hands don’t stop moving, going from gripping your waist, tangling in your hair to then cradling your face, like he’s afraid you might disappear once his touch leaves you.

you kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring everything you’ve felt— every ounce of love, every moment of doubt, every fear of rejection— into that kiss. the world around you fades; the only thing that exists at this very moment is max. the feeling of him, the taste of him and the overwhelming relief of finally, finally having him close.

you finally pull apart from one another, gasping for air as your foreheads rest against each other, the both of you breathing heavily. his hands move back to their position on your waist, thumbs circling your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself in the moment.

“god, i’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips.

a small smile tugs at your lips as you nod against him, your voice still shaky, “me too,” you admit, just as breathless.

for a moment neither of you say anything else. you just stand there, holding each other, basking in the warmth of the moment. it’s not the picture perfect confession you’d imagined, but it’s real, and that’s all that mattered.

max finally pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. “i’m sorry,” he whispers softly, his hand moving to your cheek as his thumb strokes it. “for everything. especially for how i acted at the club.”

you shake your head, your heart swelling with many emotions— love, relief and forgiveness, to name a few. “it’s okay,” you mutter back breathlessly, leaning to place a soft kiss against his lips, sealing your words with the simple act. “we’ll figure stuff out, and we’ll work on it.”

and with that, the night ends not with the bitter taste of regret, but with sweet promise of something new, something real and something worth fighting for.

[rinhaler]

OMG HI I LOCW UR WORKS U ARE SO TALENTED THAT MEGUMI KNW WITH THE GUN?? JAW DROPPED SCREAMING DLENCHING THE TOES WANT TO LICK THE SCREEN

anyways i love you and everything you write <3 was thinking about ex babysitter jujutsu kaisen guy.. envisioning geto or sukuna or gojo (???) idk but they like used to make fun of u and be a little angel for the parents n stuff but seeing them again but ur all grown up and a little spicy reunion !! n they’re like 5-7 yrs older so yum

got so so so carried away as usual but this was so fun to write.. i made it satoru and suguru bc i thought it would be fun :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight dubcon, fem!reader, age gap (reader 20s + them 30s), childhood crush to lovers?, alcohol consumption, love bites, tit sucking, praise, slight cucking?, double penetration (one hole), spanking, hair pulling, squirting, slight pussy eating, creampies, snowballing, pet names (sweetheart, baby).

words: 2.3k

It’s been months since you got to see a movie in the theatre. You don’t even remember the last time, or what you saw. But you’ve been counting down the days until you and your best friend finally had a day off work that lined up with each other. Why you’ve been craving seeing a movie, you’ll never know. But what you’ve been most excited for is the food.

Nothing has caught your eye, but your friend points out a cheesy sounding horror movie that you’re happy to see.

“Satoru? Is that you?” you ask, a familiar head of white hair catching your eye as you and your friend walk closer to him, seeing him leave the cinema screen you’re about to walk into. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since I was…”

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Look at you, all grown up. Yeah, it’s been a long time.” he continues. Your eyes meet the stare of the woman on his arm.

She smiles, but you see it’s disingenuous. Her body language is clingy and affectionate, desperately holding onto Satoru’s arm as she urges him to leave with her. You aren’t surprised that she’s trying to lead him away, but you are taken aback that someone has managed to tie the Satoru Gojo down. He was always popular with girls back when he used to babysit you, but he was never one for commitment or staying faithful.

“You two make a cute couple.” you smile at them both, trying to put the girl at ease. It doesn’t work, however. Instead, it seems to make her more nervous.

“It’s our first date.” Satoru informs you. He sighs a little as she pulls at his t-shirt, and it’s less than discreet. “We’re going to dinner later, so we better get going. It was nice seeing you though.” he smiles.

“Wait,” you stop him. “Um, are you still in touch with Suguru?” you wonder.

He smirks at that. He always teased you about having a crush on his best friend after the first time he brought him over for babysitting duty. They didn’t come as a pair every time after that, but it was more often than not. He made your heart race and you lost all ability to form a coherent sentence. You knew he’d never be interested in you; he was older and cooler than you’d ever hope to be.

“Of course. You know what? Here, give me your phone.” he tells you. The girl’s eyes fill with water, a look of defeat in a battle you weren’t even participating in overwhelms her. He quickly types his number into your phone and texts himself so that you can exchange contact information. “We can arrange a little reunion, yeah? See you around.” he winks before leading his date away.

A whole fortnight has passed before any plans come to fruition. That cinema trip is a distant memory that has been replaced with flirty texts in the group chat Satoru decided to make with you and Suguru.

It’s like being a teenager again.

Satoru’s teasing is ceaseless. Everything is so casual and generic in the group chat save for the occasional comment about your crush on Suguru back in the day. But it’s worse in the private messages. Now that you’re older and wiser he sees no point in holding back. He’s so flirtatious and grotesque and vulgar all at once.

Your conversations with Suguru, however, are a lot more reserved. Your fingers tremble whenever he texts. And the conversation is a lot sparser in comparison to how you talk with Satoru.

He’s sweet and kind, but you wonder if he’s just tolerating you for Satoru’s sake.

Satoru: are u cooking for us?

You: we’re getting takeout 🙄

You smirk at your phone as you continue to read the bombardment of heartbroken messages from Satoru, disappointment from the lack of a home-made meal. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious or kidding. You laugh, nonetheless. Though you’re easily startled when hear your doorbell ring.

As you open the door, you have to will yourself from allowing your jaw to drop. Pocketing your phone as you look up at Suguru. That handsome youthful face ageing into a more mature and chiselled one. It makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to downplay it.

“H-Hey!” you smile. “Nice to see you, it’s been forever.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” he smiles too, walking into your home when you move aside. He follows you to the kitchen, watching your every move as you pour two glasses of wine for yourselves. “I’m glad you got in touch.”

You continue to converse as you lead him to the front room and sit side by side on the couch. Neither of you seem to notice how time flies as you chat and reminisce about the days he used to come over to keep Gojo company while he babysat you.

As if you weren’t old enough to stay home without a sitter. That hardly helped your ability to seem cool for your age. And Satoru didn’t fail to tease you about that either.

“I always thought your little crush on me was sweet.” he laughs. “But I was too old for you, then.”

“I know.” you nod, taking a sip of the red liquid sloshing around your glass. “Do you remember that time Satoru invited two girls over?” you ask, face filling with heat as you recall the embarrassing incident.

“Oh,” he chuckles lightly, like a memory has been unlocked in the back of his head. “You locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out all night. Even after we sent them home.”

“I was jealous!” you try to defend yourself. “I was such a lame little pre-teen and then these gorgeous girls with perfect skin and perfect hair came over and you guys were hooking up and I was just… heartbroken!” you clutch your hand to your chest dramatically and begin to laugh as you try and make light of the memory.

He breathes, a soft smile prominent of his face as he thinks about it some more. The girls in question were the pretty, popular, cheerleader types. Everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted Suguru to see you as. And yet, you weren’t even close to achieving that reality. And still, he told them to go. Satoru felt bad for upsetting you, too. So they didn’t hesitate to tell them they had to leave.

“I remember sitting with Satoru outside of your bedroom door the whole time. You didn’t even use the bathroom.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “I ran to the bathroom after you left. And then I cried to my mom all night about how devastated I was.”

He thinks to himself, putting down his glass of wine on the coffee table before he looks at you. Your body freezes, worried you’ve offended him or creeped him out. A slew of words run rampant in your mind as you try and formulate an apology.

You’re taken aback, however, when he cups your face and slowly tilts his head before kissing you. It’s everything your teenage self had ever dreamed of. You want to drop your own glass to the floor and cup his face in turn as it deepens. But he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing.

“We’re not kids anymore.” he whispers.

You put down your glass beside his, before lunging in for another kiss. He lets you push him back against the couch, stripping yourself of your sweater so you’re down to just your bra. He smooths his hands over your hips, watching you eagerly as he awaits your next move.

“We’ll have to be quick.” you tell him. “Satoru will be here soon.”

You bend down to make out with him again, keening as he expertly unhooks your bra. His lips latch around your nipple before you’ve even realise he’s tossed your bra halfway across the room. Your hips roll against his clothed bulge, still in a state belief that this is even happening.

“I always wanted you to be my first.” you confess, and he halts his actions momentarily. “But I’m glad… I can fuck you properly instead.”

He allows you to help him out of his own shirt, neither of you capable of keeping your hands off each other for more than a second. Even less than that for your lips. Each sentence is hushed and hurried as you try and navigate this new and exciting development in what was meant to be a casual, friendly, reunion.

“So you’ve got experience now, huh?” he asks, kissing your neck greedily as he thinks about how much you’ve grown in the last decade. “You know how to fuck like a good girl?”

You nod, dumbly, kissing his neck in turn before traversing down his sculpted body. You both freeze, however, when the doorbell rings again. Your eyes widen in horror as you realise all of your clothes are scattered across the front room. There’s no way you can get dressed quick enough. Maybe it would be better to pretend you aren’t home. That you ran out because you forgot something at the store.

“It’s open.” Suguru yells, your heart pounding even faster than it had previously.

Satoru swaggers in as you sheepishly look in his direction with your arms across your chest, doing all you can to preserve your modesty.

“Wow.” he sneers, a teasing lilt in his tone as he looks at you both. Sweaty and dazed, though one of you seems to look less embarrassed than the other. “I knew this would happen.”

“It’s not what it looks—”

“Your tits are in his face and I can see a bruise forming on your neck, sweetheart.” he interjects, getting closer to you both. “I’m not judgin’. Why would I?” he smiles.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been set up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, “It’s too much Satoru. I can’t. I can’t. Y-You’ll have to wait your turn!” you protest as he prods at your already occupied cunt. But despite your whining he continues to push himself inside of you, determined to stretch you to your very limit. He shudders at the sight of your pussy swallowing his tip and doing all it can to spit it back out.

He’s been watching on the sidelines, patiently, as Suguru fucks you in the comfort of your own bed. Palming himself as he gets off to the image of his best friend’s cock drilling into your perfect little cunt. He thought he could be patient, but he was sorely mistaken. He’s seen with his own two eyes how well you can ride cock, but he wants to see how well you can handle getting railed.

He pushes you down towards Suguru has his palm splays across your back. You’re soon comforted by the feeling of his lips on yours, though you break away to moan as Satoru inches in further and further. His cock flush against his best friends without a single care, revelling in the sounds of your ragged breath and desperate whimpers.

“I can’t wait, baby. You’re swallowin’ this cock so good. Just take it, yeah?” he tells you, slapping your ass as he starts fucking you slowly.

“You look so pretty full of cock, sweetheart. Does it feel good?” Suguru asks as he plants his feet down onto the mattress and starts to fuck you in tandem.

You nod as a response, yelping as you feel Satoru’s fingers interlace with your hair and yank you up towards him. Your sweat coated back pressed flush against his chest. His free hand holds your hips while he uses your hair to his leverage as his pace becomes brutal. Your pussy oozes and gushes as they each poke and prod and fondle you through their eager assault.

Suguru’s hands wander to pinch and slap your tits, his lip bitten raw as he gets off to the sight of your flesh jiggling and bouncing in all of the right ways.

You squeak, unable to utter a single word or even so much as moan as you begin to squirt from the pleasure. The feeling is enough to have Suguru tumbling over the edge right after you while Satoru wraps his arm around you to play with your clit.

“Again.” he orders, pulling you away from Suguru so that he can kneel in front of your twitching pussy.

The pleasure builds again. Harder, slower, but finally you snap. Your cunt gushes divinely and Suguru savours every last drop. Satoru finishes deep as his balls tighten and he moans pathetically in your ear. But he doesn’t give you or himself a second to relax as he hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, spreading you open wide so that your combined coupling drips out of your hole.

Suguru buries his face in your cunt, slurping up the mess created by the three of you. He sticks his tongue out to show you the lewd combination of your fluids, before looking at Satoru with lust filled eyes. Satoru leans in to kiss him, accepting the tangy tasting mixture into his own mouth before looking down at you.

“Your cunt tastes beautiful, sweetheart.” Suguru tells you as he lightly spanks your clit.

Satoru forces you to look in his direction as he holds your jaw, prompting you to open your mouth wide for him. He kisses you passionately, encouraging you to follow his lead and welcome to lewd fluids onto your own awaiting tongue. You gasp as the taste hits you, but before you can object, he covers your mouth and pinches your nose with one hand.

“Swallow it like a good little girl.” he orders, and you do.

He lets you go after that, though your body just goes limp in his arms. He helps you lie down next to Suguru as he spoons you, and your childhood crush peppers you skin in delicate kisses as you begin to drift off.

“I’m glad I went to see that shitty movie the other day.” Satoru smirks.

© 2024 rinhaler

@enchantedforest-network

[paradiseismine]

Late Night Talking - Trevor Spengler x Reader

Love note from Nina: Aaaand I’m back again with some more Finnie cuteness and filth, lovelies. My boy Trevor is way too underrated around here, so it’s about damn time we turn those tables.

Pairing: Trevor Spengler (Ghostbusters Afterlife/Frozen Empire) x f!reader

Warnings: mostly smut, but also some fluff. Also maybe this is kinda long (?) sorry not sorry etc

Summary: you visit the Spengler’s residence for a dinner party and end up having a lot more fun than you intended, if you know what I mean

Edit: part 2 here

Your mom and Mrs. Spengler had become best friends, all of a sudden - neither of them had had much luck on that when they moved to the city, but ever since they first met in a 7/11 a month ago, they were inseparable.

It was a Saturday evening, and your mom was dragging you along to Mrs. Spengler’s house, for a dinner party of some sort. You weren’t in the mood, but she seemed so happy to finally have a new friend, you just couldn’t say “no” to her.

So, all dressed up in a cute black dress and strap sandals, you rang the doorbell.

- Oh, hello - a tall lanky boy with messy black hair opened the door. - Good evening, Mrs. y/l/n… And you must be y/n, right?

You nodded, smiling sweetly, as your mom greeted the boy as well.

- Hi, Trevor! Your mom told me all about you - she said, giving him a warm hug after she handed you the huge cake tray she was holding.

It was pretty heavy - your mom wouldn’t show up to dine at someone’s house without bringing dessert - but you could manage to hold it.

- Callie, there you are! - she squealed as she hurried to meet Mrs. Spengler in the kitchen, leaving you and Trevor behind.

- She loves your mom - you said to Trevor, chuckling.

- My mom loves yours too - he chuckled. - Hey, can I help you with that? - he continued, gently taking the cake tray off of your hands.

- Thank you Trev, that was quite heavy - you said, relieved. - Should we bring that to the kitchen?

So you both put the cake in the fridge and helped your moms with everything - from setting the table to organizing the kitchen.

You had a great time eating and talking to Callie, Trevor and his sister, Phoebe. After dinner was over, the moms opened up a bottle of wine and sat on the living room to talk, while Phoebe went to her room to sleep.

That left you and Trevor alone in the kitchen, talking. It was already close to midnight, and by the laughs you could hear from the couch, you were not going to leave the Spengler’s home for a long time. Halloween was just around the corner, so you asked Trevor if he was into horror movies.

- Hm, kind of… - he responded, finishing his glass of soda. - I think they’re way too unrealistic sometimes.

- Ugh, wish I felt like that too… Movies like Poltergeist and The Conjuring totally freak me out. I’m just afraid of ghosts, I guess.

Trevor nearly choked, but you couldn’t understand why.

- Do you like slasher movies though? - he asked, trying to move on with the conversation.

- Yeah, I love them! - you answered, excitedly. - My favorite one is Friday The 13th!

- The first one?

- The best one, right?

- Absolutely - he laughed, then pointing to your moms in the living room - I think they’re gonna take a while there… Wanna go upstairs and watch a movie? It can be Friday the 13th if you want.

- Of course, I’d love that! - you said and walked over to the living room with him.

- Mom, Trevor and I are going upstairs to watch a movie, ok?

- Sure darlings, go there and befriend! - your mom agreed, her voice sounding a bit different already. Good thing you were driving.

You two went up the stairs to Trevor’s room, still talking about horror movies and your personal favorites; but you noticed he would talk just as excitedly about any subject. The conversation was light and comfortable. Trevor was so nice to talk to. He was also really good looking. Something about his lanky figure, dark hair and dark eyes really stood out to you.

Up in his room, you couldn’t help but walk around and notice the various objects he had in there.

- Whoa, do you like Arctic Monkeys?

- Their “AM” album is, like, most of my will to live. - he chuckled. - So yeah, I like them a bit.

- That’s an instant classic if I’ve ever seen one, right?

Turns out, you and Trev had A LOT in common. You were into the same movies, the same music and even the same places to hang out. He was working up the courage to ask you on a date already.

- So, uh… y/n, would you… would you like to go to that record store downtown with me… Sometime? It doesn’t have to be like a date or-

You put your index finger to his lips, and his eyes went wide.

- But can it be a date, though? - you whispered, your finger leaving his lips as you put your hand on his cheek.

- S-sure - he stuttered. He was much taller than you, even with the heels you were wearing.

- I would love to - you smiled, your hand still on his cheek. - I could talk with you all night if you’d let me.

- Me too - he smiled, putting his arm around your waist and leaning in a bit. - Y/n… can I-can I kiss you? Or does asking that totally ruin the mood?

- Of course you can! - you laughed. - C’mere.

You leaned in and your lips touched his, lightly. You touched your forehead to his and looked him in the eyes. He pulled you even closer by your waist and kissed you again, way more eagerly this time. His tongue asked for entrance and you permitted it, in pure ecstasy.

- Hm - he broke the kiss - maybe we could move this over there? - he said, his head pointing to an armchair on the corner of his room. You nodded, your lips parted and swollen from the kiss.

Trevor sat down on the armchair and you sat nearly on his lap, but sideways, so your butt was down on the armchair and your legs were all over his lap.

He put his hands on your bare knees and caressed them gently as you continued to kiss, more slowly than before. Your dress was a few inches above your knees. Nothing too modest or too slutty, but Trevor secretly wished you were wearing the sluttiest dress possible, just so he could feel you up without actually lifting up your dress and risking getting slapped across the face.

Little did he know you were craving that touch. You lightly guided his hands a bit further up your thighs, giving him the permission he wanted. To touch your soft skin and get intoxicated by you.

You kept kissing him passionately, your hands wandering from his cheek to his neck to his chest. You grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him even closer, wanting to savor him as much as you could. He let out a soft moan on your lips, so discreet you wouldn’t be able to hear it if you two weren’t all the way upstairs in his room.

Things were getting hot and heavy pretty quickly, but isn’t it always like that when you’re young? His hands were gently caressing your upper thighs for a minute, as if he was mentally debating a way to ask you to take off your dress, but gave up on that idea.

His slender fingers gently slid your panties to the side, only to meet your soaking wet pussy. You hissed and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you hungrily while slowly playing with your clit. His touch was so light, it made you ache for more; but at the same time, it was perfect. He continued for a couple minutes, your moans in his ear increasing. That had to be Trevor’s new favorite sound.

- Trev - you called, your voice faint and breathy. He looked into your eyes. His gaze was dark and full of lust. His swollen red lips were slightly parted, ugh, he was so beautiful… - If you keep going, I-I…

But you couldn’t finish that sentence. Your back arched and your mouth cracked open, your body completely taken by that orgasm. Your eyes were closed for most of the time, squeezed in pleasure, but when you peeked through them to look at Trevor’s face, he was grinning like the devil. He got you good and he knew he did.

- You’re so pretty - he said, mesmerized, his fingers still touching your pussy until you closed your legs and he realized you had ridden out of your orgasm. - and you look even prettier when you cum.

You sat there in his lap for a moment, head on his shoulder, resting a little from such an intense sensation. Trevor had quite a cocky smile plastered on his face, seeming proud of himself for making a pretty girl cum. For getting the chance to make a pretty girl cum and succeeding.

- Alright, so not only you’re all tall and handsome and stuff, but you also got magic hands? - you said, your hair ruffled and your voice breathy.

- Magic hands? Really? - he laughed.

- I’m serious. - you said, laughing with him. - But now I feel the need to… reciprocate, you know?

Trevor’s breathing quickened. You sat on his lap properly now, one leg to each side of his waist, straddling him while cupping his face for another round of passionate kissing.

His kisses found their way down to your neck, gently nipping on your skin, making you shiver and squirm. His fingers started toying with your dress’ straps until he felt confident enough to pull them down slowly.

The black lacy bra you were wearing underneath was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but the sight of your breasts is what made his mouth water. With your dress already down to your waist, he put his arms around you to try and unhook your bra. As boys normally do, it took him a few tries, but he finally got it off of your body, his hands quickly covering your breasts again, fondling them.

Your skin was so soft and smelled so good, his kisses returned to your neck and continued their way down to your chest. Your nipples were so hard already, he simply had to take them in his mouth. One at a time, he licked and sucked gently, earning some pretty urgent moans. You knew you had to keep the volume down so your mothers wouldn’t hear you two, but that couldn’t stop you from moaning softly, just enough for him to hear. Your body was a feast and he had never been this hungry in his whole life.

- I-I thought it was my turn, Trevor - you said, softly, his lips still kissing the skin around your nipples and his hands groping your waist firmly. Damn, this boy was definitely going to drive you crazy.

Kissing his lips once again, you reached for the hem of his T-shirt and slowly pulled it upwards. He helped you take his shirt off, and his bare chest was surely a sight to be seen. Back to the kissing, your hands now wandered from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest, to his belly and…

- A-are you sure? - he asked, as you were about to touch his belt to unbuckle it. He didn’t want to pressure you into anything.

- I am pretty sure - you said with a smile, playfully kissing his nose. - Can I?

He nodded eagerly, so you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Trevor just sat still and watched as your beautifully manicured nails were touching his belt, then his pants, then his underwear.

You knelt down in front of him, using a pillow under your knees for comfort, and pulled his body closer to the edge of the armchair. You kissed his lips one last time, then his neck, scratching his chest lightly with your long nails, causing him to moan and bite his lips to avoid making too much noise.

You kissed down his chest, your nails now scratching his waist, and finally got to his underwear.

- Can I pull these down too? - you said, your big eyes pleading.

- Yeah - he said, barely breathing. - Please.

You gave him a naughty smile and pulled down his boxers. It was impossible not to lick your lips at the sight of that cock. The perfect length, the perfect girth, and that perfect pinky tip begging to be sucked. So you did it.

You took Trevor into your mouth hungrily, as your mouth was already watering just by taking his underwear off. Your head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, as he tried his best to hold back any louder moans.

Suddenly, he grabbed some of your hair in his right hand and pulled your mouth off of his dick gently.

- Did I hurt you? - you said, looking worried.

- No, no, princess - he answered, scared that he might’ve offended you. - It’s just… you’re so so good… and so pretty… I’m afraid I won’t last, you know?

- It’s ok babe - you reassured him, caressing his bare knee. - You pleasured me selflessly, and I’m doing the same. If you want to cum now, then do it. I’d love to get a taste…

Your mouth went right back to sucking on his dick, your both hands now also added into the mixture. After a minute or two, it was too much for him to take.

- Y/n - he called, softly. You looked him in the eyes, mouth still around his shaft. You knew what was going to happen next. - I just… Please, can I cum in your mouth?

- Mhm - you agreed, not slowing down or stopping anything you were doing.

Trevor let out a muffled groan as he came in your mouth. You swallowed his warm seed at once, gently licking his tip clean afterwards.

- Fuck, you’re a goddess - he said, his voice faint, his eyes rolling.

You laughed a little and wiped the corners of your mouth.

- And you’re a darling. I’m glad you could trust me.

- Y/n - your mom called out from downstairs. - Is the movie over already? I think we should get going…

- In a minute, mom - you yelled in response.

You turned back to Trevor as he handed you your bra and put his own shirt back on.

- I had a great time with you today, Trev. Hope we can hang out sometime.

- Of course, I’ll text you - he started - there are already so many places I thought we could go together… You might just be the best company for basically everything. Specially late night talking.

You grabbed his phone off his desk, typed in your number and handed him the phone. Realizing what you just did, he smiled and held out his hand so you would give him your phone and let him do the same.

After the exchange of phone numbers and a quick good night kiss, you two got downstairs and pretended nothing had happened.

- There you are - Callie said as she saw both of you. - What did you guys watch?

- Friday the 13th - Trevor lied for both of you. - It was her favorite horror movie, and one of my favorites too.

- Aw, how cute. I’m glad you guys are friends now - your mom said, grabbing her purse. - But those old slashers have some awkward sex scenes, don’t they? We heard their moaning from down here.

- Glad they make movies more gory and less sexually charged nowadays, right? - Callie agreed.

Your moms were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember much about tonight. Thankfully, ‘cause your face and Trevor’s got just as flushed as if you had spent the entire night sipping wine.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE: TRICK OR TREAT!

masterlist

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happy halloween! this is not an actual chapter unfortunately, so those who got their hopes up at an early release i’m SORRY 😓 however i consider it more fun! this is what each chapter from the sjap universe would wear on halloween🙂‍↕️ consider it 14.5! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did making it. also shoutout to my babygirl ree for helping me with these. I LOVE YOU BAD! <3

megumi fushiguro as BILLY LOOMIS

“ghostface? nah too basic” the raven states broadly.

sure scream was his favourite horror slasher but dressing up ghostface was too overrated, too tacky. he needed to go as someone more niche, someone he knows nobody would dress up as, someone hotter. introducing billy loomis! still the same franchise just a tad bit more creative! (not entirely but we’ll give him pity points) but man did that he look hot. the fake blood dripping down was the cherry on top. seeing his hair not entirely gelled up for the first time the guys realised he looked like his dad. like a lot

“no shit, we’re related” he said in front of the bathroom mirror as he wets his hair for the 3rd time, trying to perfect his look.

toge rolled his eyes, chewing on his toothpick

“ya know megumi you should’ve just went as ghostface, atleast no one would look at that makeshift shitty hair of yours” toge sneered

megumi turns around, hair soaked as he goes into punch the platinum blonde but misses as the water drips down his face into eyes as he stumbles back into the counter.

“woah slow down, the only person you’re gonna kill is yourself at this rate” yuta quips as he walks in to see what the commotion was going on in the bathroom.

megumi looks at yuta, then back at toge, then back at yuta. his head going side to side frivolously before bursting out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” yuta questioned

“didn’t pin you for the type of guy to dress up as a gay cowboy” he sneers, wiping both tears and the dripping water from his eyes.

toge inumaki & yuta okkotsu as ENNIS & JACK

“what do you mean gay cowboys?” yuta says, slowly turning to toge with an eyebrow raised.

“you mean you seriously never watched brokeback mountain?” megumi asks after recovering from his laugher fit

“am i supposed to?”

he looks at toge who was smirking with that stupid toothpick in his mouth, twirling it around.

“and i thought i was evil” he shakes his head chuckling.

yes, yuta did in fact not know that toge made him dress up as ennis and jack from brokeback mountain (yuta being ennis and toge being jack). in his defence toge did ask if he wanted to go as cowboys for halloween and yuta being yuta obviously said yes. though he did find it suspicious that toge wouldn’t let him pick out just any cowboy costume. he said he had a vision in his head and to just go with it. yuta just thought he was going for a niche version of a cowboy not the version where they’re two bestfriends fucking on top of a mountain. it’s far too late to change their costumes now, so yuta left their condo in what seemed to be “bro-love” going too far. on the other hand toge was EATING it up, strutting the down the streets in the “best costume” (his term) of the night. toge definitely forced yuta to make tiktoks to brokeback mountain audios throughout the night and def went viral LMFAO. poor yuta is embarrassed.

“oh my god, i am mortified” yuta says into his hands after hearing megumi explain the plot of brokeback mountain - he toned it down of course so it wouldn’t kill yuta.

“eh you’ll be fine, it’s not the worst costume in the world”

toge almost caught whiplash by how fast he turned his head. not the worst? what the fuck is that supposed to mean. he knows megumi can’t be talking looking like that.

“you know megumi, with all that blood you could pass as somebody’s diva cup” toge spits at him, obviously hurt.

“did somebody say diva?!”

yuji itadori as ROCKY BALBOA

yes yuji we are talking about you!

this may be fan service for ree… but guys TELL ME YOU DON’T SEE IT ASWELL? i could not find a rocky costume that i thought was fitting but imagine the second picture but with his shirt off🙂‍↕️ yeah…. just thinking thoughts…

yuji would be getting stared at ALL NIGHT and gets asked for tons of pictures in his costume because he looks so damn good. he definitely makes tiktok thirst trap edits because at the end of the day he’s still just a loser trapped in a hot body </3 the guys end up going through a haunted house and yuji actually gets scared and knocks one of the workers out… he blames it on method acting so he doesn’t get the cops called on him and somehow it works? also trust he is flexing his muscles the entire night and challenges literally everybody (mostly girls) to arm wrestle him. his go-to pick up line throughout the night is “if i win i get your number, if you win you get mine” and he winks at them before the countdown. CORNY but it works (i would fold as well sorry)

“yuji stop flexing yours abs for one second it’s gross, you look like a male prostitute” toge groans in disgust as he kicks rocks on the sidewalk”

“the correct term is actually jiggalo, and i think you’re just jealous that i’m hot and cool and you’re just a shitty gay cowboy” yuji replies back through a smile as he waves to everybody who’s pointing at him

“IT’S BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN”

“ooooo is that the name of the new club that opened?”

if you guys want more boxer yuji go read BATTERED N’ BLUE by the lovely @aozui <3

yn as MAXINE MINX

life being the baddest isn’t easy and it especially isn’t easy when it comes to choosing a halloween costume. between wanting to be hot, but also niche, but not too niche! but enough that it surpasses basic, but also fun... did i mention hot? so who better to dress up than someone who fits all the requirements than none other than maxine minx!

yn had this planned months ago. she wanted everything to be perfect down to a T, and she was not the type to pull something last minute out of her ass. she was not going to put on an amazon corset and call it a day. hell, it wasn't even just her, the whole apartment had planned their costumes in june. if serving cunt was a dysfunctional group of roommates it was them. think bodies bodies bodies x scream 6... yeah i would not want to be their enemies if a psycho killer was going around murdering people. and best believe their group pictures are turning out so hot (partly due to the personal photographer they booked before LMFAO) but everyone knows the other part is their well-thought-out costumes.

"oh my god did you really bleach your eyebrows for this" a familiar voice commented at her as she walked into the kitchen.

"the dedication is crazy, but i guess you still look hot."

a smile broke out of her, still focusing on preparing drinks for the party of the century.

"it's just concealer babe", she replies as she looks up from the drink station to where she was met with nobara, who was sitting on the sage love chair in an all too familiar pose.

"no fucking way... are you-?"

nobara kugisaki as CATHERINE TRAMELLE

what’s better than one cover girl? two cover girls!!! or in this case replace cover girl with evil femcel maneater final boss!

the party girls have a tradition of watching a horror/slasher movie each sunday during october, so when nobara said she hasn't watched basic instinct last year, trust it was the first movie they watched on that first sunday.

"ugh, i just know she would of made a bomb fucking costume for halloween", nobara groans.

"too bad you're already going as marie antoinette" panda sighs.

"there's always next year" yn states, clearing up the popcorn on the coffee table.

and next year indeed.

meticulously choosing each article of clothing and hand picking accessories so she could be the emodiment of catherine tramelle. even though she was one glass of red wine away from being mistaken as a housewife of beverly hills, it didn't matter. dressing up as someone so smart, so sinister, so sexy was the principle itself. she didn't care if nobody understood who she was or being asked if she knew it was a halloween party, not a dinner at nobu - she knew she was that fucking girl. but of course, most people knew who she was, even the cute girl standing by the drinks station who was ogling her the entire night and who so badly wanted nobara's number. spoilers: she got it.

"i can't believe you actually stuck with", yn says after managing to close her jaw.

"god you look hot"

nobara smirks at her reaction.

"i wasn't going to let the opportunity slip pass that easily" nobara smirks to herself.

before yn could respond, a loud bang followed by the sound of a door being slammed interrupted her train of thought.

"FUCK!"

both the girls' heads whipped around the find a panicking maki pacing out her room.

"has anyone seen my anastasia lip liner?" she huffs, crossing her arms.

maki zenin as BETTY BOOP

the look, the lips, the hips, the taste… everybody please welcome miss zenin!!!

"no but have you seen an extra pair of panties? i need to change."

i mean this costume was in the works since her hair cut. i mean come on… IT’S PERFECT? maki as betty boop? nah betty boop as maki zenin! uh huh nodding my head right now. an iconic if not the iconic costume in the apartment. maki is not one to typically wear dresses - mostly sticking to jeans, shorts & skirts and the occasional jorts but DRESSES? you’d have to be either jesus or yuta to convince her to put one on let alone a mini dress. and good lord she looked good. yuta almost had a heart attack when she sent him a picture of her costume. yeah it was gonna be a long night for him.

she rolled her eyes at the remark but can’t help the smile that betrays her facade. she looks over to the silhouette standing in the hallway, almost… waiting?

“panda we aren’t playing a theme song just for you to come out just show us your costume already”, maki sighs

he stomps into the living room with a sulk in his step.

“you guys are boring bitches”, he huffs.

panda as a SONNY ANGEL

the girls all had their mouths shaped in an ‘o’ as he entered, hands on hips - giving the most sass imaginable.

“panda what happened”, nobara stifled a giggle behind her hand.

so this was not panda's original costume but his backup one... unfortunately for him, his original costume was to go as a slutty version of batman but he was then met with his long awaited karma..

RIIIIIIP

“oh my fucking god” he said to himself as he hesitantly checks the back of his costume. he finds a hole right where his left ass cheek is.

a big one.

luckily for him, he’s immune to costume malfunctions and bought a back up for times like this. sure it wasn’t as creative or risqué as slutty batman but it was the next best thing.

“i don’t want to talk about”, he mumbles, earning an eruption of laughs from the girls.

he stood there in silence as they speculate what on earth could have happened to his original costume. eventually he told them which then lead to another fit of giggles. atleast that was over. they had a party to plan. and besides, sonny angels are supposed to bring you good luck right?

wrong.

the night was a mess. panda got atleast 7 different drinks spilt on him that night and almost got into a fight with todo because he won the ‘best costume’ contest. (he was a passenger seat and mai was chappel roan).

—

BONUS COSTUMES!

as we know there are two weekends where halloween is celebrated, and this year is no different. debate after debate, "should we celebrate halloween the week before or 2 days after the actual event?" well, why not both! both the party girls and tridant came together to complete the "maze of death" (it was just a corn maze, famous for the actors jump scaring you every now and then - similar to the haunted house the boys went to, but much more intense) these set of costumes are what both groups wore on halloweekend 2 + how each character would react during a haunted maze!

megumi as THE SCARECROW

megumi got confused and thought yn’s costume last week was hers this week and decided to match with her without telling her. (he thought it would of scored him brownie points) though when he found out yn was dressed up as someone else he was immediately embarrassed. yn thought it was adorable how he tried to match with her so called costume and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a recognition for his efforts. (definitely got those brownie points)

he walks WAY ahead. he wants it OVER with >"if i walk faster, they can't get me" type mf. he's miserable but can't take yn laughing behind him at all. he’s going through many stages of grief.

he unfortunately has to lead the group through it even though he's pretty scared himself, but he calms himself by saying "toge def was worse" or some shit. (spoilers he was in fact worse)

yuji as XANDRA

i hate gay halloween, what do you mean you’re xandra from papa’s freezeria?

oh he scares the workers BACK. my king.

had full intentions of scaring yuta during it but got caught off guard and accidentally punched the workers that personally jump-scared him because he's automatically triggered into fight or flight mode like no tomorrow.

yn & toge as SHARPAY AND RYAN EVANS

they came up with this idea when toge was at their apartment doing the usual antics (eating all their food) and saw yn watching high school musical. told her it would make a pretty good halloween costume as a duo and he saw the bulb light up in her head.

first they have a competition who won't be scared but i fear they are desperately clinging onto each other 10 seconds in then act like NOTHING happened once they exit toge is scared so much he can't talk, yn is pale as fuck, and they agree to never talk about it.

(yn says she won the competition 2 hours later)

maki & yuta as a COP AND PRISONER

everyone awwed at them when they saw their costumes. i mean how could you not? #coupleoftheyear

oh yeah so…. yuta wanted to ditch at the entrance but maki hauled his ass with her. he doesn't do well at all, he pukes at the end and maki just patted him on the back.

maki has a poker face throughout the whole thing. does not gaf. she is not scared at all and corrects how they can be scarier to their FACE mid scare. the workers almost walk out.

nobara & panda as the BEE & COOKIE

committing to the ynmegumi bit so bad im ctfu.

panda’s more depressed about how he missed the volunteer dates in order to work at it. but like yuta, he screams so much it haunts nobara’s ears. he screams like a little girl. he almost pisses his pants and hides behind nobara but it makes him a BIGGER target because ofc they're gonna see a 6 ft giant trying to hide??? the haunted house workers def bully panda in the groupchat after their shift ends. he tries to act all tough afterwards saying he "handled it like a champ".

nobara has an average reaction ywkim, she does scream and does get scared but she's literally fine. she NEVER lets panda live it down though, she has a video of panda screaming too.

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @boopbepzlerp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can’t tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[meazalykov]

filming

lena oberdorf x actress!reader

summary: while filming in london, you have a special guest visit you at work

you're standing on set, mentally exhausted but pushing through as you try to channel the villain you're playing. 

the heavy makeup, the dark clothes, everything about the character feels so different from who you are. it's been a long day, and while you're focused on your next scene, your thoughts keep drifting to lena, knowing she's in london too, playing against arsenal with wolfsburg in the champions league semi-final. 

you wish you could be there, but acting doesn’t exactly allow for last-minute trips across town.

"hey, can you turn around for a sec?" your costar says casually, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"uh, sure?" you respond, a little confused as you turn.

the sight that greets you makes your heart skip. lena's standing there, a playful smirk on her face, with sveindis right beside her. 

you blink, trying to register that they’re actually here, in the flesh, on your film set.

"what the hell?!" you exclaim, rushing over to them. "what are you doing here?"

lena chuckles, taking in your costume. "i had to see this for myself. my girlfriend, the horror villain. you look... terrifying, baby."

you laugh, rolling your eyes. "yeah, yeah, i know i look like i just crawled out of the underworld and the SFX makeup doesn’t make this any better. but it's just a character, promise. i'm still me under all this." 

"thank goodness," lena jokes, stepping closer and pulling you into a tight hug. "though, it kinda suits you."

"oh, shut up," you nudge her playfully, feeling a warmth settle in your chest at how easily she makes everything feel lighter. "i missed you."

"i missed you too," she murmurs, kissing your temple. 

you turn to sveindis, grinning. 

"and you! i can't believe you both came here. you know you’re my favorite of lena's friends, right?"

sveindis laughs, shaking her head. "i mean, i try."

"seriously though," you sigh, "i wish i could come to your game. it’s killing me that i can't be there."

"we know," lena says, her voice softening. "but you’re busy, and you're killing it here. we get it."

you nod, biting your lip. "yeah, but it still sucks."

"you'll see us in the final, though," sveindis adds confidently.

"damn right i will," you grin. "you better win."

"we'll try our best," lena says, squeezing your hand.

they don’t stay long, knowing you're in the middle of filming, but before they leave, lena gives you another quick hug, whispering, "i’m proud of you, you know that?"

"i'm proud of you too. now go crush arsenal," you whisper back, your heart swelling with love as they walk away.

you spend the rest of the day filming, but your mind keeps replaying the moment with lena, that grounding presence she always brings with her. 

when the director finally calls cut for the day, you’re exhausted but relieved to be done. 

as soon as you’re back in your trailer, you pull out your phone and check the score. wolfsburg won. 

you waste no time pulling out your phone to call lena. as soon as the ringing stops, you hear her excited voice on the other end.

“hey, baby! we did it!” she practically yells, and you can hear the noise of celebration in the background.

you can’t help but laugh, her energy contagious. “i saw! i’ve been dying over here, refreshing the score like a maniac.”

“you should’ve seen it,” lena says breathlessly, still riding the high of the win. “it was insane. poppi scored the winner, and everyone lost their minds!”

“i’m so proud of you,” you say softly, smiling to yourself. “i wish i could’ve been there.”

“don’t worry about it. you’re working hard too,” she reassures, though you can hear a little hint of longing in her voice.

“well,” you pause, biting your lip, “i’ve got news. i’m taking time off to come to eindhoven for the final. i’m gonna be there.”

there’s a beat of silence before you hear her gasp. “you’re serious?”

“of course! there’s no way i’m missing this. i’ll be in the stands, screaming my head off for wolfsburg.”

“oh my god,” lena breathes out, and you can practically see her smiling. 

“that’s... that’s amazing. i didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

“well, i pulled some strings,” you tease, feeling a weight lift from your chest just knowing you’ll be there. 

you didn’t really need to pull any strings. the champions league game happens to fall on the week break that filming has. 

“and as soon as filming wraps for good, i’m coming back to germany. i promise we’ll have time again.”

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you,” lena says quietly, her voice soft now, intimate. 

“it’s been so hard with both of us being so busy.”

“i know,” you whisper, “but we’ll get through it. we always do.”

“god, i can’t wait to see you,” she says, the happiness in her voice clear as day. “it’s going to be perfect.”

“i can’t wait either,” you reply, heart swelling with love. “and hey, tell sveindis she’s still my favorite for scoring the last three games, okay?”

lena laughs, a sound that makes you feel like you’re home even though you’re still on set. 

“i’ll tell her. she’ll be so happy about it since she's a fan of yours.”

“awee,” you joke, leaning back in your chair. 

“you two better get some rest tonight. you’ve got a champions league final to win soon.”

“don’t worry,” lena says confidently, “we’ve got this. and knowing you’ll be there... that’s all the motivation i need.”

“i love you,” you say softly, letting the words settle between you.

“i love you too,” she replies, her voice warm and full of emotion. “see you soon, okay?”

“see you soon,” you echo, smiling to yourself as you hang up. 

masterlist

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 12: "This is Spooky..." "Really?"

(gif source)

A/N: hi, going back to my roots a bit here lol i thought about him explaining the behind the scenes magic of a horror movie and i needed to write it immediately. I also don’t remember a lot about Alien, I only saw it once so if my descriptions of the movie are wrong, I apologize lmao- mod ghost

Ship: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Summary: horror movie marathon with Spencer! 

You and Spencer had an idea to do a horror movie marathon of sorts, a movie a day for all of October and then as many movies as you could in a row on Halloween itself. Most of them had been slashers, like Scream or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but today’s movie was Alien, and that wasn’t exactly something you were excited for. You could handle it if it was just some guy in a mask running around slicing and dicing, but stuff like this scared you a lot and you weren’t sure why. You didn’t want to tell that to Spencer, though; he was excited about watching these with you, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin it for him. After all, Halloween was both of your favorite holidays. 

You had the living room of his apartment all set up for tonight’s movie so you could start watching it when he got home from work. You spread some snacks on the coffee table and pushed the few throw pillows he had to the side to make room for the two of you to sit. Before you knew it, he was bustling through the door.

“Hey, I‘m home! Are you in here?” he called, untying his converse before kicking them off by the door.

“Yeah, I’m over here! Ready to watch the movie?” You exclaimed as you turned around, hugging him when he came closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. Spence nodded eagerly. “Yeah, lemme just put my bag away and take a quick shower.” He kissed your forehead before he pulled away to take the time to settle in. While he was showering, you changed into Halloween themed pajamas that were decorated with small pumpkins and bats that matched Spence’s before settling onto the couch to wait for him. Once he was out of the shower, he joined you under the funky patterned blanket that he usually kept draped over the back of the couch and turned the movie on. As it progressed, you couldn’t help the minute reactions you were having, gripping him a little tighter and curling closer to his side each time the xenomorph would appear. Eventually, about halfway through, you finally spoke up. “This is spooky…” “Really? It’s just a guy in a costume, going around hissing at people on a set.” “I guess I’m just creeped out by the idea that they’re stuck in space with that thing. Intelligent life could be out there, or it could be hostile. Like…that.” You gesture at the screen with your arm as the creature ate through one of the Nostromo survivors. “I mean, I’m around scarier guys than that all day every day.” He shrugs, seemingly unphased by the gore.

“Does that mean you can protect me?” You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Of course, but I could also tell you about all the behind the scenes stuff so it sort of takes away from all the spoooookiness.” Spence wiggled his fingers in front of your face as he spoke, making you laugh. “Okay, that actually sounds like it’d help a lot…thank you.” You smiled fondly up at him before he started to ramble on about how they were able to make the cat hiss when they wanted him to, among other things which definitely took away from the spookiness of the movie. You could listen to him talk for hours uninterrupted, especially about things he was passionate about. It was one of the many things you loved about him, so you really ended up watching him more than the movie as he yapped away and moved his hands about. 

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Hark! I submit an official request for Raphael and someone (dealer’s choice) getting hit with the old Sex Pollen. It could be a trick by Haarlep or a plant/mushroom releasing pollen/spores in Faerûn during one of his visits. I leave circumstances to your brilliant imagination.

I love the sex pollen trope and would love to see you write it :) As always, feel free to make him or both of them as tame or unhinged as you like! Thank you! 💕

❤️

Raph gets pollened ☺️

Read on AO3

-

There was a lot of strange stuff to find laying about in the ruins of Moonrise Towers. Most of it caked in dirt, dust, and other unidentifiable substances. The kleptomaniac in Tav had her poking around, putting her mitts on everything before those little tiefling gobshites stripped the place bare.

She was enamoured by something: a big round vial that contained some viscous liquid which, when Tav cleaned the bottle a little, glowed an ominous dark purple. The stopper was wedged too tight to open. It had been fermenting for a long, long time. Tav had discovered the bottle in a box with a decrepit occult codex of some kind and a burned out incense holder. Bizarre findings that warranted further investigation – after she’d raided everything else of value, of course.

“Well, well. Where should I find the mouse but scurrying about in a ruined old attic? Apt.”

“Shit!”

Tav nearly leapt out of her skin. The bottle went flying, shattering on the ground. A thin, noxious violet gas began to seep from its shattered corpse. The smell was pungent, stomach-churning; like rotten eggs and swamp water. Tav coughed and gagged, eyes wet, glaring at the devil who’d startled her so badly. He stood there innocently, unassuming, a single eyebrow raised at her display of drama. So much for finding out what that potion did.

“Do you enjoy getting the jump on people, devil?” She said waspishly, moving further away from the mess. “Gods, that stinks.”

“Sometimes. Mortals are much more likely to agree to certain things when they’re frightened,” Raphael purred. He tilted his head, taking a small whiff of the gas. “Hmm…it smells like peaches to me.”

Peaches, sure. “What do you want?” Tav crossed her arms. Never turn your back on a devil. Especially this one.

“Merely to see why my favourite future client isn’t celebrating with the rest of her merry band,” said Raphael. Tav noticed he was surreptitiously inhaling deeper sniffs of the potion, like a dog that had caught an interesting scent on the wind. He may not have realised he was doing it. “After all, you freed the angel. You struck down the avatar of a God. One would think a hero of such calibre would at least raise a glass or two in victory, no?”

“I don’t like crowds,” muttered Tav, keenly aware he was mocking her. He was always mocking her. Raphael shifted his feet, coming just a bit closer.

“Yes, I know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I know a lot about you, Tav. I know the kinds of people you used to do business with before the mindflayers took you. I know the kind of work you did. I know where you came from, and where you were going before all of this.”

“What?” Tav stared at him, aghast. A mix of horror and, inexplicably, intrigue squirmed in her belly. How did he know these things? Why did he know these things? Something was off, though. Raphael seemed, for a brief moment, as shocked by his words as she.

“All that is to say…” He adjusted his collar. Loosened it. “Hells. Why is it so damn warm all of a sudden?”

In a crumbling tower, battered by the chilling miasma of the shadow curse, the only warmth came from the Infernal himself. “It’s cold up here,” Tav said slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down Raphael’s temple in contrast. “Are…you okay?”

“What a stupid question,” the devil snapped. He was becoming flustered, a fetching flush spreading across his harsh cheeks and the bridge of his handsome nose. “I must return to the Hells. Goodbye.”

He clicked his fingers, intending to disappear in a burst of hellfire as usual, but nothing happened. A mere sputtering of sparks from his fingertips fluttered and died. Outraged, Raphael clicked them again, harder, as Tav watched with mounting anxiety. No portal opened. The devil went nowhere.

“Foolish little bint,” he snarled at her. Revealed his pointed canines when he sneered. Tav saw his pupils were rapidly expanding, consuming the sweet brown of his human irises. “What was in that bottle you dropped?”

“I don’t know,” Tav bit back. Always aggressive when she felt cornered. “And you’re the reason I dropped it in the first place. Maybe this will teach you to stop needlessly scaring people, though I bloody doubt it.”

“If you don’t watch your tongue when you speak to me, I’ll pluck it out of your filthy mouth,” Raphael threatened, low and throatily. He tugged his collar open completely, revealing his neck and some teasing wisps of chest hair.

“Oh I see, the devil’s feeling a bit poorly so he finally shows his true colours,” crooned Tav. “It’s about time. I was getting tired of your gentleman act, you know.”

“Ah…to have your skin hanging on a hook in my foyer would be such a delight…” Rumbled the devil, almost absently. He began to unfasten the buttons of his jacket.

“What are you doing?!” Barked Tav. He didn’t answer. Tossed his coat aside and moved onto the buttons of his fancy white shirt. It was damp with sweat – and this was when Tav noticed the bulge between Raphael’s legs. His cock, hard and proud, strained in the fabric of his trousers. A hot spike of desire shot through Tav’s body. “Oh, shit…”

The potion must have been some kind of demented aphrodisiac, made potent enough over time that just a few inhales was all it took. It must’ve been pretty strong indeed if Raphael was crumbling under its influence so fast. Except it wasn’t affecting Tav. She could admit – only to herself – that her tingles of arousal looking at Raphael’s big, deft, tawny hands work the small buttons of his clothes, at the glistening, hairy skin of his chest as he opened his shirt, at his puffy dark nipples, at the trail of fuzz going down his soft middle to vanish below his belt, at the outline of his erection, at the wet spot its leaking head made on his trousers…they were on Tav alone. She’d been attracted to the smarmy devil from the start.

Figuring all this out, Tav had one thing to consider as Raphael reached for his belt: what did she do?

Indulge, of course. An opportunity like this only appeared once in a lifetime. A street cat like Tav knew it better than most.

So she bit her lip, breath baited, as Raphael freed his cock and balls, both fat with need. Ogled as he furiously, shamelessly, rubbed his prick, squeezed its swollen sticky dark pink head, his tight scrotum bouncing with the force, staring right at her as he did. Sighed when he came in moments, grunting, cum spilling on the ground, all over his knuckles, everywhere. His expression was stormy, devoid of relief or rapture, his cock refusing to soften.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed even as he milked more cum from himself in oozing pearls that lazily trickled between his glans, teeth bared in frustration. “It’s not enough.”

He looked furious, frantic, frayed, and so, so fuckable.

“Come here, then,” said Tav, distantly aware of how breathy she sounded, “let’s try something else.”

He was on her in a second. A waiting predator pouncing on its prey. Tav could barely gasp before he was swallowing her mouth in harsh, biting kisses, one hand fisting the hair at the back of her head, the other holding her hip with bruising strength. Tav greedily put her hands all over him, yanking his silky too-perfect hair, scratching his slick chest and stomach, crushing handfuls of his pliant backside. He was like a furnace, radiating stifling heat. He smelled like cherries and musky sweat. So human, but for the hint of sulphur he simply couldn’t hide. His tongue tasted like wine and fire when he forced it into her mouth, hungrily licking behind her teeth. He was a man unravelling, so much desire pressed beneath the surface just waiting for an excuse like this to burst free, and Tav wanted to see it all.

“Wretch,” Raphael spat when they broke apart. The ribbons of saliva connecting their lips were tinged red. He’d bitten her bloody. “Invading my thoughts…my dreams…and now my body…”

“Your fault,” Tav retorted, crying out when he jerked her head back, rolling his aching prick against her clothed sex.

“Inside,” he growled, losing coherence, “need to be inside…”

He manhandled her, pushing her onto a nearby broken desk. With one hand, and in one yank, he pulled her trousers and smallclothes down to her ankles. Tav heard fabric rip but couldn’t find the will to care. The eerie, twisted moonlight coming in from jagged cracks in the stone, the cursed lands’ grotesque long shadows – these things stretched and warped Raphael’s silhouette into the monster he truly was. Tav swore she felt claws, fangs, horns, saw the glint of yellow eyes…but he was still a man, driven and desperate, who pried her thighs open and stuffed her full of his cock, who rocked up on the balls of his feet to get as deep inside her cunt as possible.

“Fuck,” she groaned, raking her fingernails down his back. She was wet and willing, but it had been a while, he’d entered her without preamble, and his cock was thick. He was unforgiving, selfish, searching only for his own pleasure. The stretch, the burn, as he used her, fucking her hard, fast, violent, was hideous and exquisite. She clenched her cunt around his cock and he came immediately, snorting into her ear like a rutting bull. Filled her womb with hot liquid release. She could feel it spurting out of his cock with every throb. He had so much to give, and still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Much to Tav’s delight.

There would be Hell to pay when this was over.

[sammyluvr]

dead eyes — sam winchester

cw :gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, canon typical violence, blood, death, weapons, and monsters (shifter), reader has a panic attack, character death (in a dream), nightmares, crying, kisses, unedited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : killing a shifter with sam’s appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

his dead eyes. you shouldn’t have looked.

when you do, it feels like you’re being tilted on your axis, and your vision swims for a moment. his voice, though distant, brings you out of it. we should go find dean, he says, voice gentle like he caught a glimpse of the horror that flashes over your features. horror because they’re his dead eyes.

but it’s not over yet. there’s still another shifter in the house, and the adrenaline of an active hunt doesn’t let you dwell on it.

you had gotten separated, just like you said you wouldn’t, and when sam showed back up, you had to point your gun at him, you had to keep him at a distance. this proved smart when another sam walks in. your sam, you think, because he’s carrying the silver knife he took on the hunt today… and because it feels like him. but you couldn’t be sure.

so you kept your gun up and ready to turn on either one at a moment’s notice, even when the mere idea of shooting sam, even a fake one, made you sick to your stomach. what if i shoot the real sam? you had thought to yourself in a terrified moment before your insincts kicked in.

you offered to test yourself first, slipping out your silver knife and cutting a thin line to prove to the real sam that you can be trusted. the shifter and sam stare each other down, and the one that you think is your real sam offers to test himself with his own knife. right as he brings the blade to his forearm, the other lunges towards sam, pulling out a long dagger and aiming right for the heart.

two shots rang out through the air before you could even think about it, and the shift dropped dead at sam’s feet.

now, as you find dean, just barely having killed the last shifter, you know that your instincts served you well, and saved both you and sam. but it had all happened so fast. the realization that there was more than one shifter, getting separated from the brothers, then the confrontation with both sams. your sam, who was calm and collected, but didn’t try to worm his way into getting you to trust him. and the shifter, who wore sam’s face and played with you.

he had insisted he was the real sam, he had chosen to confuse you. sure, to buy himself some time… but you think it was for the pure entertainment of it too. that’s exactly what the shifters had done to their previous victims; posed as their loved ones, but turned violent and angry until the victims tried to hurt or even kill them in self-defense. then they’d guilt their victim for trying to hurt someone they love. and then of course they’d kill them, with their loved one’s face as the last thing they see. they were a violent, messed up pair of monsters, and you’re glad to be rid of them.

but they got to you too. maybe you are their final victim, because sam’s voice saying please don’t hurt me keeps replaying in your head. then there’s sam’s body falling to the ground, blood pooling under him so fast and his eyes open in death. 

it wasn’t sam. you know it wasn’t sam. but in the car ride back to the motel you’re overwhelmed with images of his dead body anyway. and the fact that you had to point that gun at the real sam because you couldn’t be too sure. looking down the barrel of a gun and sam being at the end of it… it just about kills you.

from his seat in the front of the car, sam knows that you’re struggling. he can feel it. your eyes on the back of his head, looking haunted when he glances back with a silent smile of reassurance. and he can’t even see your hands where they are, tucked into your lap, but he knows you well enough that it’s like he can physically feel the way they’re shaking. he wishes he could wrap his solid hands around your trembling fingers and rub your back to soothe your breathing.

he’ll have to wait until you get to the motel, and he’s thankful the drive is almost over. the silence of the car isn’t a comfortable one.

dean reads the room easily and takes to the shower the moment you arrive. before the door to the bathroom is even shut, sam pulls you into his arms, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and the other planted on the back of your head to keep you close.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against you. “i know you’d never hurt me. you don’t have to worry about that.”

the way that he hand picks words and tone and volume for you, with ease and purpose and a complete knowledge of you, your heart, and your mind makes you melt into his hold. you mold to his body, you hug him back so tight, and you cry a few tears. just a few, because his arms around you are grounding and real and better than anything else you could ever ask for. you thought you might fall into a panic, let your anxieties and tendency to overthink things get the better of you. he fixes it all with a hug.

a hug and a love for you that compares to nothing at all. it’s like the way that he holds you and the way that he knows you, gently close the gaps where worry and fear and tears slip through. no stitches, no needle and thread, just soft bandages that hold you together.

⟢⟢⟢

you kill sam in your dreams. you don’t remember anything else. just what it’s like to point your gun at him and shoot with intent. what it’s like to press your hands to the bleeding wounds you made and see his eyes go still. you wake before you can close them with bloody hands.

you’re trembling and you don’t think you’re breathing quite right.

it’s just a dream. it was just a dream. none of it is real. you would never hurt sam, never on purpose. 

with a sharp twist of your neck, you look over at his sleeping form from your spot on the pullout couch. 

you share a bed much more often than not, but this motel is out of rooms with queen beds. last time you slept in a twin bed with him you almost fell to the floor even with him holding you close. that thought brings you out of it for a moment. but seeing him so still in bed is too scary for you to stay calm for any longer than that.

he’s fine, you think desperately. he’s just sleeping. if you could take the time to let your eyes adjust to the dark or see through the tears in your eyes, you’d be able to catch the rise and fall of his breathing. but you can’t.

you can’t even keep track of your own breathing as you stumble out of bed and towards him before realizing at the last moment that you don’t want to wake him.

so you put a hand to your chest and try to breathe as you turn around and make your way to the motel room door on shaky legs. the tears run and run like they can outpace the fear, maybe drown it, and you don’t realize how much noise you’re making as you fumble with the lock and the handle and the door that wasn’t this heavy earlier today.

you’re looking for the cold. the wind, maybe rain if you’re lucky. you’re looking for something to feel that’s not a phantom of your nightmares or suffocating guilt and terror. how could you even dream that? how could you?

and you can’t breathe, you don’t think that you can breathe as your knees buckle and you sit down hard on the concrete outside. it would hurt if you could feel it.

you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head between your knees because you know somewhere in the back of your mind that you’re having a panic attack. but from your position on the ground and the intensity of your anxiety, it’s not enough. you gasp and gasp and can’t hear sam’s footsteps or your name falling from his lips until he’s right in front of you.

he doesn’t touch you for fear of startling you, but he says your name so soft and steady and worried.

“please look at me, honey,” he asks. sleep tints his voice, love colors it. “it’s alright. you’re alright. i’m alright.”

looking at him is hard because he’s already there, behind your eyelids and bleeding out. but he’s alright. that was his voice saying it, his voice calling you honey and maybe if you open your eyes and look up, he won’t sound so distant the next time he talks.

he’s in front of you. the sight of him sways a little, but he’s there and if you’re seeing well enough, he looks so concerned. so sorry and worried and a little helpless because he wants to bring you out of it and isn’t sure if it’s working yet.

but you hear him and you listen, and when he can see your eyes, it’s a little bit better. when you can see his eyes, it’s a little bit better. they are not open in death. they are alive and feeling and looking at you with love and pain and softness and sorrow. he’s so sorry that you’re so scared of hurting him.

“can you focus on me, love?” he asks, noting your distant eyes and faraway mind and wanting more than anything to bring you back to him.

like a miracle, you find out that you can. you can focus on his eyes, and then his voice, and then you see him holding a hand out in case you want something physical to ground yourself with. it’s instinct to grab his hand, to grip it and steady yourself with it like you have a million times before for a million different reasons. like when you got tipsy and wobbly or when you wanted to go home but you didn’t have one. when you missed him or when you twisted your ankle or fell in love. when you killed him in your dreams.

you still gasp for air and you still cry. but sam is there and that means you’re going to be okay. that means he’s okay, at least for now. he makes for now enough, and you’ll make sure that it’s always. i’ll protect him, you tell yourself. you’ll protect him.

but for now he’ll be the one to protect you; tonight it’s from your fears and the cruel tricks of your mind. he pulls your shaky form into him. he rubs your back and kisses your forehead and your breathing slows down. the air comes into your lungs and it stays there long enough to make a difference. you feel the cold and the breeze on your skin. there’s no rain, but the moon can be seen and it hangs over sam’s head. the moon reminds you of sam.

you walk yourself out of the panic attack without even needing him to ask you for five things you see or four things you can feel. he’s proud of you for it. of course, it’s his being there that helps you more than anything.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “there you go. i got you.” he smooths his hand over the back of your head, soft and slow and sturdy. when your eyes flutter closed, the only thing you see is the imprint of the bright moon against your eyelids for a moment. the rest is dark and calm.

the fabric of his sleep shirt gets all bunched up in your weak hands. the t-shirt is soft and thin from wear and it feels familiar in between your sleepy fingers. it’s october. he’s probably cold.

i’ll protect him, you remember. your fingers loosen and the fabric falls away from your hold. it rides up and exposes his skin to the wind when you rub up his back. it falls back over the hem of his jeans when you rub down. you’re trying to warm him, but your hands are shaky and small compared to the expanse of his back, even smaller compared to the expanse of the sky.

for a moment sam isn’t sure what you’re doing, but he smiles so sadly when he realizes. his heart aches with love and adoration.

“let’s get inside,” he whispers. you nod against his chest. he’ll be warmer inside. so will you. you might be shivering. he hoists you to your feet with steady care. your knees feel weak, but you hold his hand tight and walk back into the room. sam closes and locks the door, the guides you to his bed. he sits you down on the edge and crouches in front of you, wiping softly at your tears. then he leans forward and up to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to the spot between your eyebrows.

you fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he accepts you happily. he rubs your back soothingly, lets you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he holds you there until you sit up. he lets his legs go sore and doesn’t care about it one bit. you heave out a huff of breath and he cups your face, thumbing softly at your cheekbone. your hand slowly wraps around his wrist, then you turn your head to kiss the heel of his palm.

“let’s sleep,” you mumble against his skin. with a soft heart, sam obliges, climbing into the small bed after you. he bundles you up into his arms before pulling the covers over your warming bodies. he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a long moment before he rests his cheek against the same spot.

“goodnight, sam,” you whisper softly, voice still holding a hint of its earlier shakiness.

“goodnight, honey,” he echoes, voice just as soft and prettily hushed. he wants to say more, maybe another ‘it’s okay’ or sweet reassurance. he wants to make sure you know that he’s not afraid of you hurting him, that he trusts you and that loves you all the way. but he thinks you already know, and that you’re better suited for silence now.

he’ll tell you tomorrow.

[justmeinatree]

Oh, I Think She Said

Summary : a tooth rotting harryween treat.

Word Count : 1k

A/N : this is the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, i dont know whether to love it or hate it

“you can’t be scary for shit !” you laugh, playfully smacking harry’s arm. 

you loved halloween, it was by far your favourite holiday. and being able to celebrate it with harryween was the icing on the cake. 

you did have a self imposed rule though, that you needed to have the opportunity for some kind of horror makeup, seeing as your night costume was matching with harry and “this was a family show,” so harry didn’t want to be scary on stage.

so now here you were, spending your day with harry around the stadium, both of you sporting some kind of freaky makeup, as he had insisted that you do something for him as well. 

the opportunities where harry lets you sit down with him and paint his face whichever way you want, are some of your favourite memories with him. he’s so trusting and fun loving, never wanting to know what you have planned, waiting for the surprise reveal, every time. in the end, he’s always so pleasantly surprised. looks himself over, admiring the details you’ve put in. and that’s just one example of when you really see the love he has for you, through the reflection in the mirror.

but right now, you wanted the photo that was being taken to match the vibe of the makeup and well, not a single bit of harry really matches the spookiness that is this makeup. he’s just a giant teddybear with black smeared on his face.

harry laughs, putting his hands up in defence before his strength takes hold over you, arms wrapping around your entire body, pinning you tightly to him.

you wiggle in his grip, trying to break free, but you both absolutely knew you weren’t going anywhere. harry’s much stronger than you are. you feel his lips pressing to your neck, his lips parting for his tongue to poke out, tasting your skin. “not letting you go until you apologize to me,” he murmurs against your ear and you can hear the smirk on his lips.

for a quick moment, you cuddle back into him, eyes closing, focusing on harry’s mouth against your neck. you faintly hear the clicking of a camera, photographer taking a few shots for you both, before someone else comes to whisk you away. the show was nearing, you needed to get into your costumes.

fluttering off hand in hand, you both end up in harry’s dressing room, washing off the dark makeup, going through an endless amount of wipes. your eyes focus through the mirror, on the costumes behind you, a flash of nervousness etching itself on your face. 

harry notices, about to say something before hearing you, “do you think they’re gonna get it ?”

“mine alone ?” harry hums pensively, “maybe not. but it’s planned that the camera will flash to you, remember ? your costume really completes it. s’that why you’re nervous ?”

you shake your head, you had gotten used to the cameras a long time ago. “aren’t you nervous,” you ask quietly, looking up at him. 

“have you seen what i’m wearing ? of course i’m nervous. nervous my prick’s gonna fall out,” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood. and it does work as he managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. but the worry is still present in your eyes.

“you know it’s time sweetheart,” he hums softly, smiling reassuringly at you. “can’t keep wearing this forever,” he nods towards you. “gotta let people know eventually.”

“i know,” you take a big breath, nodding. “i’m excited to tell everyone. i really am. but it’s still a bit scary, you know ?”

harry nods at that, leaning over to kiss the tip of your nose, then your lips, “i understand. and yes, i am a bit nervous too. but it’s a good nervous, yeah ?”

“mhmm,” you nod, kissing him again for a moment before he pulls away.

“right, can’t be late. lets do this baby,” he smiles, getting up with you and bringing you over to the clothes rack. you watch harry strip his robe off, as you do the same, both of you putting on your costumes.

they were fairly simple, but obvious none the less. you do take the time to laugh with harry as he slips on his tiny yellow shorts. christ, you really do hope tonight doesn’t end in a wardrobe malfunction. scary makeup would be far more appropriate for a family show.

fortunately for you, and in the spirit of harryween, the setlist has been altered. seeing as harry thought it to be totally unfair for you to be backstage for the entirety of the show, as the third song was coming up, a few notes from kiwi can be heard blaring through the speakers.

the crowd goes crazy, shocked to be hearing it so quickly in the set. harry’s spotted you, by the barricade, next to the security man you had both arranged this with. 

he makes it through the first verse, chorus, second verse, and as the second round of the chorus comes up, harry changes up the lyrics, belting out, “she’s having my baby !” 

and he’s pointing at you, the camera panning in your direction, as harry’s running up the catwalk to get to you. 

there you are, on the big screen, jumping around and singing along, in your juno costume, and beginnings of a baby bump on full display, having gone with a fairly tight striped tshirt. this was your first opportunity to go out without a sweater in almost a month now, and you were revelling in it. harry’s costume of bleeker now making perfect sense to the crowd. although so far, it wasn’t like anyone minded his little yellow shorts.

the crowd was screaming, absolutely losing their minds, chanting excitedly. the camera panning to some fans with tears in their eyes as harry’s now made it to where you are, smiling wider than you think he ever has, dimples etched deep in his skin, blowing you kisses.

you can see the adoration, excitement, pride, joy, how deep this moment is hitting him as he can hear, can see, can feel almost 100 000 people radiate excitement and pride and joy right back at him.

the song comes to an end and the crowd is screaming so loud, harry doesn’t get the opportunity to address them right away.

as things quiet down just a bit, he chuckles into the mic, “look at my beautiful girl. i’m gonna be a dad !”

……

Masterlist

tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan

[jjkamochoso]

Okay guys I screwed this up yesterday!! This was a request from @killuagirly and was originally an ask but I accidentally posted it unfinished instead of saving as a draft and had to delete it lol SO here's the request: "Another Feitan request! Feitan with a Female Reader who's dying to 'pretty him up'! He's already gorgeous as is of course, but wouldn't it be so fun to do a morning & nightly routine with him? If she's lucky, Feitan will let her paint his nails! He goes for black when she asks what color he'd like, but maybe with a little pink heart on each ring finger! He wouldn't mind that much, so long as the Troupe doesn't see of course. He'd never hear the end of it."

Here's my answer to the ask: I loved this so much😭❤️ thank you for always bringing me your Feitan ideas, I absolutely love writing for this man🥺❤️ I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!🫶

And finally, here's the fic:

Pretty in Portor

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of violence

Feitan had no clue how he got so easily persuaded by you. It was like you put a spell on him or used some sort of crazy Nen technique to manipulate his actions. Of course, he knew that wasn’t the case—

He just really, really loved you.

That’s why he found himself in your room in the hideout of whatever city the Phantom Troupe had business in this time, wearing a fluffy headband pulling back his bangs while you applied a face mask to his pale skin. You already had your own on, sporting a fluffy headband matching his.

“Why you no ask Machi or Shizuku, even Pakunoda, to do this?”

“They’re not into this kind of stuff,” you whined.

“And I am?” he questioned, prompting you to jokingly swat at him. “You bring in water? I no going out to bathroom to wash off.”

“Of course. I’m not a monster,” you replied. “I won’t make you too uncomfortable as you so sweetly partake in my nightly routine with me.”

“Too late,” he grumbled, earning a gentle flick of the forehead.

After you both rinsed off the mask, you rummaged through your belongings to find the rest of your skincare items. You laid them out on the bed, all of the foreign labels piquing Feitan’s interest.

“What this?” he asked, picking up a small jar.

“I was just looking for that! Thank you,” you said as he handed it to you. “It’s exfoliation for your lips. It gets all the dead skin off and makes them smooth. You want some?”

“Looks sticky. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” You giggled mischievously before your voice gained a flirty tone. “You know, if you ever wanna kiss anyone, this is a great way to make sure your lips are smooth.”

Feitan glared at you mercilessly. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“Just a suggestion!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up in defense. You put some of the product on your lips and scrubbed with your finger, taking care to get your lips nice and soft. Feitan busied himself with looking at your array of items, thinking your words over and trying not to blush. His eyes trailed up, sneaking a glance at the way your finger ran over your now moisturized lips as his mind filled with what they might feel like against his own…

He quickly went back to his reading of ingredients on whatever bottle he picked up, trying to shake those thoughts out of his head. You were none the wiser of what he was thinking about, though you couldn’t help but notice that Feitan was a little too engrossed in the bottle of serum he was holding, especially after his not-so-subtle peek at you just a minute ago. You wondered if maybe that could mean he felt the same about you that you did about him? You hadn’t a clue and it didn’t help to ponder over questions you were sure you’d never have answers to, so you picked up a bottle of nail polish to forget your worries for the moment.

“You want your nails done too?” you asked.

“Only if you have black,” he snorted, figuring your girly, pink loving self wouldn’t be caught dead in black nail polish. To his horror, you procured a bottle of his color request and held it up.

“Perfect! I’ll do yours after I do mine.”

Feitan wanted to protest, but knew it was no use. He was a man of his word, after all, so he sat quietly, mindlessly flipping through a book he had brought into your room as you began to paint your nails.

“All done,” you had said after a few minutes. “Your turn!”

Feitan groaned but sat across from you anyway.

“Hand, please,” you told him. He held out his left hand first and you went to work, but not before he almost shivered at the skin-on-skin contact. When both hands were done, two coats of polish and one layer of lotion later, Feitan was impressed with the end result. He had to admit, he was a fan of the dark color contrasting against his skin.

“They look so pretty!” you gushed, fawning over the great job you did with his nails. You grasped his fingers and turned them every which way, inspecting them closely. They looked nice, sure, but they were missing something.

Your eyes lit up. “I know! I can paint a little heart on one of the nails.”

“Anatomical?” He smiled darkly. “Bloody?”

You screwed your nose up in disgust. “No, I was thinking something more like this.”

You picked up a small brush, used for creating tiny details, and dipped it into the pink polish bottle. You then carefully made a few strokes over each of his pinky nails, drawing a dainty heart on each one.

“There,” you said triumphantly. Feitan looked at his nails, confused at how he should feel. On one hand, it was sweet of you to include him in your hobbies and enthusiastically make him participate, but on the other hand, how could you not see how wildly ironic it was, painting cutesy hearts on the nails of a sadistic torturer? The same nails that were normally inflicting pain and misery, caked in blood and other bodily fluids, were now covered in nail polish and sweet smelling lotion, being treated with a tenderness he forgot he had craved for so long. Unfortunately, because there was a “no fighting your fellow Troupe members” rule, Feitan wouldn’t dare to walk out of your room with the nail art; he couldn’t bear the idea of being teased to no end and not being able to shut the person up with violence.

“Tch. Cover it with paint. I no need anyone seeing this.”

“Aww Fei, are you sure?” you pouted. “But you look adorable!”

“No want to look adorable when killing someone. That your job.”

You giggled as you opened the black polish bottle again while the man quickly looked away, trying to hide his sheepishness at the compliment he inadvertently gave you. Now that your last minute art additions were covered, it made it even more special to him. He loved knowing he had your heart, a little piece of you, hidden away in a place only he knew of.

“This is more your style anyway,” you said, smiling softly at his plain black nails. You were about to put the polish back in your bag but before you could do anything, Feitan stopped you.

“Wait. Sit.”

You obliged, curious to know what he was up to. Feitan himself seemed surprised that he spoke up, but nevertheless continued.

“Choose color and give me brush.”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement when you realized he was going to do some nail art on you as well.

“I’ll do black,” you said, “that way we’ll match each other.”

“Gross,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks warm as he studied your splayed out hands in front of him, not daring to peek at your gorgeous face in his flustered state. He busied himself with the brush, starting his art. You decided to wait until he was done before looking at your nails to keep it a surprise. Your eyelashes fluttered closed, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. Feitan, now finished, was going to question why you hadn’t said anything yet but he looked up to see your shut eyes. You looked so peaceful that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were asleep. His gaze darted down to your lips, the skin softer than ever after your exfoliation, and he was so terribly tempted to kiss you. He stared you down, deathly still as he took this time to inspect all of your pretty facial features while he knew for sure you wouldn’t catch him doing so.

“Feitan,” you whispered, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the way you said his name, “are you all done?”

He wanted to say no, have you all to himself as he continued to commit your every fine line and curve of your expression to his memory, but as selfish of a man he was, he didn’t want to make you wait to see his work any longer.

“Open eyes.”

You did what he said, but instead of your nails, your vision was filled with the handsome face of the man you adored to no end.

“So pretty,” you breathed out, getting lost in his gray eyes.

“You haven’t seen nails yet, idiot,” he chided, wishing the acid in his stomach could dissolve the butterflies flying around in it.

“Hmm? Yeah, you’re right,” you replied, finally examining his artistry. You gasped with delight at what you saw. Feitan had drawn a skull, similar to the one on his cowl, on each of your ring fingers.

“They’re perfect! Feitan, I love it! Thank you!” you exclaimed. He was about to answer you but was dumbstruck when you planted a kiss at the corner of his lips before bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m just so excited! We look so good!” you continued, eventually pulling away from him with a big smile. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to show everyone!”

You ran off, your bunny slippers thumping against the hard floor. Feitan brought his polished fingers to his face where they rested against the spot you had just kissed, letting a lovestruck grin rest on his face.

Your lips were even softer than he dreamed of.

[raineandsky]

#113

tw: kidnapping

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Um,” the villain says as he flicks the living room light on. “What are you doing in my house?”

The hero scowls. “Well, it’s not like I tied myself up and put a bow on my own head, is it?”

And in one of the villain’s own dining room chairs, no less. Couldn’t he at least bring his own? “I don’t know,” the villain says slowly, to the hero’s offence, “you might have.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re doing in my house!”

“I don’t know either!”

“There is an alarming lack of information here, [Hero].” The villain steps forward to study the knot in the ropes on the hero’s wrists—just a plain, normal knot. Nothing extravagant, nothing telling. “How do you not know?”

“Well, unfortunately, [Villain], I have spent most of this experience unconscious,” the hero snaps a little harsher than necessary. “I woke up, like, five minutes before you got here.”

The villain tuts, moving his interest onto the comically large bow on the hero’s head. This would’ve been a perfect chance to laugh at him if it wasn’t somehow happening inside the villain’s house.

The villain’s just about to hit the hero with a barrage of questions—with the inevitable “I don’t know”, of course—when answers present themselves in the form of the supervillain.

“Ah, you’re home,” they say brightly. A pair of stout glasses are in their hands, generously topped up with what is undoubtedly whiskey. “How do you like your gift?”

The villain throws a glance at the hero. He looks as lost as the villain feels. “My gift?”

“You’ve been working hard recently, [Villain].” They offer him a glass and he takes it without question. “I thought I could at least acknowledge the positive impact you've had on our little business. On me.”

The hero scoffs but they both ignore him. “What…” The question’s going to sound insane, but this situation is insane enough to warrant it, the villain thinks. “What am I meant to do with a… person?”

The supervillain hums thoughtfully, casting a glance about the room. “Well, I was looking around your place and thought you could use a maid.” They laugh at the scrunch of offence in the villain’s face. “Oh, I’m kidding, [Villain]. Maybe they could be target practice, a pet, a plaything.” A sip from their glass. “Anything your mind can conjure.”

The villain tries to look at the hero like he’s thinking on it. The hero watches him back like he’s trying to read his mind.

The supervillain takes another swig of their drink. The villain copies them before they can notice that he’s avoiding it like it’s poison. It sure tastes like it; it burns the whole way down.

“Any ideas?”

The villain taps the glass to his chin with a tut. “A dog would be nice.” The supervillain snorts a laugh, and the hero’s desperate expression turns flat with horror. “I’m sure I can find a nice collar for him.”

“A shock collar, I hope,” the supervillain suggests with a grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, [Villain]. You deserved a little something for everything you’ve done for me.”

This is more than a little something, but the villain doesn’t bother correcting them. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No darling.” A smile; soft, affectionate. “Thank you.”

The supervillain gives him a pat and sets their glass down on the coffee table. “I have business to attend to. I just wanted to see your reaction.” They make for the door, though the villain’s not convinced that’s how they got in. “I’ll see you tomorrow—keep me updated on how you train them.” And with a wink and one last smirk, they disappear outside and off into the evening.

The hero’s gaze snaps to the villain the moment they’re gone. “A dog?” he demands.

The villain carefully unties the bow on his head, collecting the ribbon in a giant red bundle in his arms. “Yeah,” he says brightly. “Are you going to bolt if I untie you?”

“You called me a dog. I’ll goddamn make like one the moment that door’s open.”

The villain shrugs nonchalantly. “Binds stay on, then.”

“Wait, no—” The hero’s voice is bordering on a cry. The villain doesn’t hate the sound of it. “No, sorry, I just— you want me to be your dog.”

“I do.” The villain smiles innocently. “My guard dog.”

That gives the hero long enough pause for the villain to take his knife to some of the rope. “… Guard dog.”

“You’ll be my bodyguard.” The first wisps break free under his blade. “You’ll work for me, cover my back, whatever I need you to do.”

“You want me to… defend you?”

The villain can’t help but smirk. The ropes split, freeing the hero’s hands. “If you don’t like it, [Supervillain] had plenty of good ideas.”

“No!” It comes out faster than the hero seems to have thought it. “No, I– I can do that.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The villain sighs contentedly, giving him a mocking pat on the head as he gets back to his feet. “Good boy.”

(next part)

[entities-of-posts]

Hi, I have a question not directly tied to the roleplay (though I don't mind if you answer it in that direction): A while ago, you talked about your theory of a potential 16th Fear emerging to balance the emerging Extinction: the Dull. I find that concept compelling, but in that post you also said that each of the powers has an "opposite" due to how people like to categorise things and I'd be curious what you would consider the opposite of each power. (Mostly because I like lists and sorting things xD)

Some do have a pretty clear opposite (Vast/Buried, Lonely/Corruption), but with a lot of the others it's less immediately obvious or simply up to a bit more interpretation. iirc Elias says the Stranger is the antithesis to the Eye, but the Dark and the Spiral similarly foil its central concepts, and I'm not sure what else their opposites would be, really.

Let me just preface this list by saying that this is my own opinion and interpretation, and thus 100% right and correct and indisputable.

I will also say that there are Fears which I would call near opposites, but imperfect mirrors - such as the Stranger and the Eye - and some that just seem to hate each other without being antithesis - such as the Desolation and the Corruption. It’s also worth mentioning that overlap always exist between mirrors, of course; this is why there is a classic duality between the moon and the sun, but no one talks about the duality between the moon and a giraffe, even though they have much less in common.

That said, here is my list:

The Vast - The Buried: the most widely agreed upon. Spaces too large versus too small. The terrible freedom of being adrift in an endless ocean, of freefall, versus being crushed in place with not the space to crawl an inch. You get it. The comparison is so clear and easy that it kickstarts the speculation about all the others.

The Eye - the Dark: extremely straightforward; just as much as the Vast and the Buried, to me. Knowledge versus the lack of it. Stark light versus impenetrable darkness. What sees you versus what you cannot see. Literally symbolized respectively by an open eye and a closed one.

The Corruption - the Lonely: Toxic love versus miserable isolation. An overabundance of company, much too close, under your very skin, a swarm of uninvited guests within your deepest sanctuary who will not leave, versus a life so barren of any company at all that that you might almost start to crave the former. The heat of fever versus the cold of fog.

The Web - the Desolation: careful planning versus reckless destruction. A trap so intricately laid, hundreds of delicate moving pieces and redundancy measures waiting for just the right time… so easily laid to waste by an unthinking, spontaneous act of cruel hunger for rubbles. Man’s quest, since the dawn of time, has been to tame and leash fire. And we still haven’t mastered it.

The Hunt - the End: a wild fight for life versus its cold ending. The journey versus the destination. The two oldest fears. The Chase wants more than anything to never End. The End doesn’t Chase; it just waits. And you’re the one that walks towards it every instant.

The Stranger - the Slaughter: here is the part of the list where people start to look at me oddly, because they’ve often never considered those pairings; but hear me out, and remember that I am inarguably correct. The fear of something Else pretending to be human versus the fear of what truly lies at the core of every human person. The fear of being tricked by an elaborate disguise versus the intimate knowledge of the truth: that those who hurt others aren’t monsters disguised as people. They’re just people. And the urge is in you too. Masks, versus what is revealed when all masks are cast off. And they both have musical motifs which makes for some fun parallels.

The Spiral - the Flesh: the horror of the mind versus the horror of the body. Unreality versus a reality only too physical, only too inescapable. Your brain is lying to you, but your body keeps the score. Follow the patterns, the Spiral says, there is more, they are lying to you, just follow me down - this is all there is, the Flesh whispers, this is the raw and dripping truth, this is all you are and you will never escape it. The Distortion even admits it can’t digest an avatar of the Flesh.