#this is a cruel joke but I deserve it I think. I earned this pain. spon ge bob was there

[raan-miir-tah]

I’m literally going to roll over and die I just dreamt the perfect world’s finest movie with the pretty animation, humor, action, and the best Brucie Wayne with the mock claymation style THEN I WOKE UP AND TRIED TO INTER THE TITLE INTO THE TUMBLR SEARCH BAR. IT DOESNR EXIST

[anadiasmount]

teach me how to forget - jude bellingham x reader.

summary: this is mostly based on some lyrics from romeo santos songs. a not so girls trip but getting an unexpected call that leaves you thinking… i’ll leave it there *winks*

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: was in the mood to write and this was a request i had received so anon here you go :p i love toxic jude and i shall write what the girlies want :ppppo

This time of year was a time filled with love and warmth. The Christmas lights, the decorations, the hot cocoa, the feeling of giving back, the feeling of security. While those thoughts remained in your head, you were constantly reminded how single and lonely you were, especially when you decided to take a trip with your girlfriends and their partners. 

They laughed, rejoiced, hugged, smiled, and had that look of love every time they stared at them, you felt left out and felt the urge to have what they have. It wasn't jealousy or anger, you felt more than happy for them, but now the idea of love began to make you mad. You had given everything to him, and you would do it again only under different circumstances. 

It was your first serious relationship, well you thought, after the last one you had in high school. Serious as in you thought it would be the man you’d marry. The day every little girl wished for, though when growing up you hated it, why give so much commitment? But unexpectedly with his lies and broken promises, he changed your opinion about marriage. He changed your opinion about love.

You once looked at him with adoration in his eyes, hugged his bicep in public to send a message to others, kissed his cheek first and then his lips when he visited you or saw him after some time apart, you would giggle at night when talking about your futures together, the warm feeling inside never leaving your chest as he held you close to him. The way his soft brown eyes bore into yours when he left you. 

But he was never yours, there wasn't ever a label or words said to claim him as yours.

You poured your heart to him, asking him, you needed to know the why, to get rid of the heavy and painful feeling in your heart, that felt like it was being stabbed each minute that passed by. Couldn't he see it? Why was it so hard for him to see how much you were willing and had already sacrificed to be with him? Was the love you gave him ever enough, all the kisses, cries, laughter? 

For the first time in your life, you felt something real, a love like in the movies, yet this was actuality. No more good night calls or texts, cuddles, sharing a bathroom to get ready, or his big t-shirts, exchanging looks across the room which ended in the two of you going home, or kisses knowing that they were forbidden. In the end, whatever happened it happened for a reason. 

As much as it hurt and brought misery, you were able to reconstruct yourself. You tried to convince yourself this would be a lesson for the future, a lesson that was learned the hard way as not only you lost your best friend but also your first love. Love can be cruel and painful, but in the end, it brings two souls together that are meant to be. 

“Are you good babes? You look uncomfortable,” your friend joked, earning a small laugh from you. “I'm okay, just feeling very much like a third wheel,” you said honestly and shrugged your shoulders. This trip was planned at the last minute, a girls' trip to be said, but that changed when their partner tagged along, as it was conveniently their only time off from work. 

While it angered you and almost made you not come, you realized they also needed this with them, you couldn't be that careless and selfish, though you would keep it in mind for next time. You also had wasted your money on the trip so there was no backing out, you needed a deserved break from your busy life in Spain. 

“I promise tonight is our night. They guys are going to fish overnight by the bay so we can head to the club and drink till there’s no tomorrow,” she said cheerfully, giving you a side hug before standing up and walking over to the closet where your clothes hung. “How is it going with that guy Joel?” she questioned pulling out a couple of outfits for you. 

You grimaced and shook your head, “I don't see him like that… he’s amazing don’t get me wrong, but he’s kinda boring? I don’t know, he is marrying for image and I want something way different. The dates were fun but in the end, he’s looking for one thing and I don’t want that, you know?” you explained while fidgeting with your rings that suddenly felt loose. 

“But at the same time, when I'm with him, all I can feel is happiness. When he isn't being cocky or serious he treats me well, buys me flowers, and showers me with love. I feel like it feels so wrong, but at the same time, he is always there for me. He has seen me at my worst and hasn't once judged me for it.”

Your friend raised her brow and handed you a tight navy blue dress, “I understand, just have fun. You're single, sexy, an amazing woman, and independent. When the time is right, that person will appear,” she kissed your head and urged you to change. “I expect you to be the drunkest, don't think of him, he isn't worth your tears pretty.” 

With that she walked off, leaving you standing still, was she referring to Joel or Jude? She was right, no feelings could change the new ones you felt. 

It ended up being the complete opposite, your friends were all drunk and sang loudly to an old rock song, while you laughed and took small sips from your third cranberry vodka. You would join in at times, but their wobbly bodies made it hard as they would cling to you for support. The drunk selfies and videos you all took made them giggle as you all took a ride back home. 

Jude saw it all. He was watching but from his home in Spain. He felt the cold and empty space next to him. He realized it was becoming too much for him, and he had to do something about it. But he always held back knowing it wasn't fair on your part. You deserved to be happy after all the pain he caused. But knowing he fully hasn't apologized was killing him. Or the fact the picture of you laughing with another man built a rubble of jealousy in his chest.

His thumbs always found their way to your contact, where he had your name next to a white heart, and the contact picture he took when you accompanied him to Germany. It all felt so familiar to him, reminding him of the good times you’d spent together, whether it was in his home, the beloved coffee shop, or the bookstore in downtown London you love dearly. Your smile, the personality he envied because you were perfect, so pure, your eyes that said the truth, and hands that built warmth when he held or felt them. 

He missed you terribly, longing to hear your voice or see you even if it was for a second. He caved in and dialed you, coming face to face with your smile that shined bright as he heard the phone dial.

“If you need anything please let me know,” you said to your friend, who drunkenly fell asleep on her bed. You quickly showered and changed into your pajamas, putting your hair into a messy bun and laying down on the queen-sized bed. You scrolled through the TV and ate your salty crisps. You hadn't heard your phone ring, but when you saw two missed calls from his number you let out a huge gasp and sat upright. 

Your hand dragged across your forehead, the familiar feeling of fear and uneasiness hitting you again in a huge wave. You bit your nails and dropped your phone taking a huge gulp of water as your throat became dry. 

Hey. I called and you didn't answer. Can you call? 

Give me a second, is everything okay?

No. I’d like to talk to you about something. Please just answer. 

Why would he call? What was so important that made him call you twice and send you a message? You soon would find out as you heard your phone buzz again. Your heart raced again, banging loudly in your chest, everything in the room around you was bright and colourful, the cold sheets now hot, the crisps being hard to swallow, and the vibration of your phone reminding you he was waiting. 

“H-h-hello?” you said shaky, hearing the relief on the other end. Jude on the other end felt nervous, his airpods put away as he brought his phone closer to his ear to hear your voice clearer, to feel you. “Y/n hi. Hi, uh, hi…” Jude chuckled anxiously, biting his lip, forgetting why he even called. “Did you need something?” you said in a low voice, whispering almost, as you muted the TV. 

“I wanted to know something…” 

“Which is?”

“I wanted to know if you remember our trip to Munich after the season ended last year,” he said slowly, voice deeper than what you were used to. How could you forget that trip? Were you kissed for the first time and promised to be at each other's side no matter what went on? A deal is a deal, a promise is a promise, but you weren't sure why he was recalling this exact moment. “What are you trying to get at?” you said instead of responding to his question. 

“Answer the question… Do you remember the trip and what happened?” he asked again, leaving you confused and tugging your sheets up. “Yes. Of course, I remember,” you caved in, shutting your eyes, and attempting to calm your nerves. “And what did we promise, that we’d be there for each other, no?” he said. 

“Things changed Jude. You changed things when you decided to leave and walk out. I can't promise you that, because what you did in the end was break them. You want me to be there for you? What about that time I begged for you to stay so we could work it out, and you did the opposite? To give you that promise I would have to trust your word again…” you deadpanned seriously, feeling the bubble of anger construct in your chest, your knuckles white as you control the feeling. 

“You can't trust me?” Jude said softly and hurt. He knew he had hurt you, but for you to tell it and show it to his face was the least thing he expected. “No? How could I, when in the end you proved me wrong?” you said, but Jude had caught you when you didn't voice it, the no being a question instead of an answer. If he was there with you, your eyes would tell him the truth. 

“Are you happy with him? Does he know how much I consider him my enemy for having what belonged to me, even if the one to blame is me? That I envy him for being able to make you smile even the slightest bit when it should be me?” Jude says, leaving you dumbfounded before realizing why he called. “I'm tired of your silly games. You couldn't maintain a serious thing with me, and you have the nerve to call me about-”

“I saw you laugh, I saw you cry. I lived next to you. The best and worst chapters of our novel. From our history. If you taught me to love, also teach me to forget what I feel because you are the woman I love and want. I learned to love beside you, you taught me to love, but you didn't teach me what was harmful, that love was harmful…” he said breathlessly, your chest rising up and down as he confessed his pure feelings. 

“Jude-” 

“I love you so much that I'm afraid to see you again. I only relive those old memories where you'd sit on my bed, a warm cup of coffee in your hand as you watched your soap operas. I still read your love letters, in the hope that one day you’ll come back to me. Who will heal this pain that you left inside me when you went away? Whoever invented love, should have given instructions to avoid suffering,” you couldn't believe what you were hearing. 

The tears coming down your cheeks, and your hand covering your mouth to hide the loud sobs. He heard them, as a tear glided on his cheek wanting nothing more than to be there with you. But the same distance that separated the two of you, was the same reason he couldn't hold or have you anymore. 

“Why tell me this now? Tell me you love me but showed otherwise. You say I taught you how to love, and hope one day I'll come back? Where was this when I needed to hear when I begged you, Jude? I probably looked stupid confessing my feelings while all this time you hid yours away. You weren't ready, I get that, but it's too late. I learned and I lost, and I can't go down that road with you again,” you croaked, sniffling and whipping the tears away. 

“If you think I have replaced you, I haven't. As much as he makes me happy, you ruined that for me. I constantly picture you instead of him. I feel like a coward for leading on a good man, knowing that what I feel won't ever be enough or fair to him. I've tried Jude, i've tried to forget you without holding a grudge, but it's so hard when I love you this deeply,” you let out crying, yours and Jude’s heartbreaking every second that passed by. 

Jude couldn't stand it, the silence was killing him, suddenly spoke out and poured his heart out to you, your gut wrenching hearing him at the way he felt over the months that passed by. Pain clawed your hearts, chests heaving as you could feel the soulmate connection even from afar. His voice brings you a sense of calmness and relief. He felt the familiar feeling of home when he heard you laugh, slowly coming out of your protective shelf. 

“Without you, my life leads nowhere. But I took you for granted, and now I'm hanging from a rope. I know that you know I'll do whatever for your love, so tell me what I can do to call you mine again, baby?” Jude’s voice cracked, the pleading in his voice showing raw emotion.

“Come to me. I need you to prove your love to me and that it isn't for games.”

[seethesunny]

Are We Out Of The Woods Yet? (Or the aftermath of the Into The Woods Arc and the Faybelle's Choice webisode.)

Blondie and Cupid return from the Enchanted Forest after the party, and it's only when they're getting ready for bed that she can notice the quiet sadness that Cupid kept locked all night long.

So she tries to comfort her the best she can, because Cupid always comforts her and she ought to return the favor.

"Hey," She starts, moving closer to her dorm room side, Cupid looks up at her, like she already deduces that from everyone else she would notice. "Are you okay?"

She observes her deliberately, seizing her reaction, fortunately Cupid doesn't seem angry, just sad, and this distresses Blondie because Cupid rarely has this sadness that seems to take away all spark from her.

"I... I don't know I just," She looks down at her hands, maybe not wanting to have this conversation right now, but Blondie knows better than to leave her alone with her thoughts during these moments, so she carefully moves around until she can sit at the edge of her bed. "I just feel like I'm always lacking something." She tells her at once.

Blondie is shaken by her response, trying to come with something to relieve her, she doesn't know what to do when people are upset, she doesn't know or understand how to deal with feelings, but she must try for Cupid, because she always tries for her. "That's not true Cupid." Is the best she can come with, feeling like the words are empty and Cupid will ask her to go to her own bed.

But she doesn't.

Shoulders slumping and wings dropping, she doesn't look like Cupid at all, and the sight makes Blondie yearn to embrace her and take all her pain away. "I feel disappointed, this wasn't what I was expecting and I know it's my fault but," Blondie watches how Cupid hesitates for a moment, yet the words escape her lips before she can catch them. "I thought this time it was going to turn out different."

Blondie doesn't need to ask more: her previous school, all the crushes that didn't move pass that, her unrequited feelings and all the love that slipped away because no one seemed to truly get her. She manages to comprehend.

"I'm sorry." This time her own words don't seem shallow, she can't come up with something better but she knows she means this with every single fiber of her body. Blondie is heartbroken for Cupid because from everyone she knows, from every single person she has met in this lifetime, she's the one who least deserves it. Isn't this just a cruel joke from faith itself, from destiny? To make her be the most living, breathing, awake personification of love only to tear it away from her gentle hands, her angelic eyes, her kind heart?

"I feel like no one will truly love me." Blondie doesn't grasp why Cupid can confess to her all of her most aching thoughts. Nevertheless she would never utter she should make them private, she would never silence her. She wants to make her feel heard, she wants to make her feel seen, she wants to makes her feel loved.

"I don't think I fit anywhere." Maybe this has to do with more than Dexter, but oh, Blondie understands. She doesn't know what it's like to feel like you belong. And isn't this the reason why they bonded in the first place, having no one else to return, sharing the same space and the same fears?

Blondie knows what it's like to be disliked. She knows what it's like to be rejected, to be pushed aside. It's an interchangeable part of her life, to the point that she wouldn't know what to do if it wasn't the reality she experiences daily.

But Cupid has never earned that the way she has.

"No, don't say that!" She didn't mean to raise her voice and she's awful at this, but at least Cupid's gaze shifts from her lap to look at her, and she can pride herself in the fact that she feels more confident in her words with the knowledge that maybe this time, speaking them aloud will make someone's life better, at least for one night.

"You... are so special, I know that maybe you don't believe that and I know that you think I'm only saying this to make you feel better but,"

"No, I don't—"

"It’s okay Cupid, you know you can be honest with me."

Cupid sighs, but there's something quiet in her features that tells her that she doesn't mind being known, that she trusts Blondie won't judge her.

"I need you to listen to me, okay?"

"Okay." And she seems curious, moving closer.

"Ever since you came here, at Ever After I mean, it feels like everything has changed and," Blondie can't put into words how much Cupid has changed her life, how she would be so different without her, how the thought of someone breaking her heart has her trying to ask to some unknown force beyond her comprehension to give her that punishment to her instead. "You have made this place better, that's what I'm trying to say." Blondie gives a small chuckle, because even if she's a reporter and she is expected to be good with words, she doesn't do good when it comes to these talks.

Cupid eyes are glassy, she wants to affirm that it's okay to cry, like all the previous times that she has told her before. Blondie feels a need deep within her to hold her hand and rub her knuckles while she lets it all out, she assumes that would be just right.

"Thanks Blondie." She gives her a small smile, and by Cupid standards it's the most tiniest smile, her dimples didn't even show and Blondie feels like she's failed, however Cupid is still looking at her expectantly.

"Would you like—" She starts, though Cupid is just better at this than her, anyways.

"Yes, yes I want one." Cupid hides her face in her shoulder as she clings to her sides, Blondie's reaction is belated but she wraps her arms protectively nonetheless while she strokes her pink hair, still stylized in that cute hairstyle she saw in her mirrorblog post a week ago. Her heart warms at the realization that Cupid got the idea from her. Blondie is a bit angry at the fact that her most anticipated event got ruined, because this was supposed to be just right and Cupid should've come home laughing instead of crying.

"It's okay. You're safe with me." She assures as she feels her tears hit her skin, her whole frame shaking, still hiding because even if Cupid has seen her at her worst, she would never want anyone to see watch her crumble like this.

Blondie accepts it, she's not going to make her feel worse.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that, it's okay." She kisses the top of her head because she can't think of anything else to express how much she loves Cupid, and maybe if there was a way she would do so. Yet she is lost, she will devote herself to try until she gets better at this; hopefully she won't have to do so as long as she can help it.

They don't exchange more words after that, Cupid too exhausted and Blondie still feeling not fully prepared to comfort the only person who she can wholeheartedly trust.

Cupid doesn't need to ask her before she's crawling in her bed: when things get rough she shares the bed with Blondie. This silent agreement is, Blondie hopes, the epitome of their love. She wishes her affection would be enough to remind her she is loved.

With Cupid safely wrapped in her arms, body tucked in the soft blankets, face finally softening with a peaceful sleep, Blondie promises she will always look out for her.

[after-witch]

Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Title: Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re a fantastic actress when you’re on the stage. But your captor isn’t fooled when there’s no stage magic to hide your real feelings.

For request: request for anything with BSD!Gogol please!

Word Count: 1772

notes: Yandere, kidnapped, noncon implications, implied torture/physical abuse

You look so beautiful when you’re immobile. Especially when you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve it, when your eyes are widened in fear, your mouth whimpering behind the tight cloth gag; your mind no doubt racing, searching for what you’ve done and why this is happening.

You look especially beautiful when he opens his coat and pulls out a few tools. He deliberately lays the hammer on the far end of the table, next to your feet. Now that makes you beautiful, as you cry out as much as possible behind the gag, some drool making its way past the increasingly soaked cloth your chin. Your muffled “no” is music.

He hates to clip your wings like this. But it’s only temporary. And, really, you’ve brought it upon yourself. Not by acting up--oh, no, definitely not that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about what a good birdie you’ve been lately. How obedient. How submissive. How sweet.

It took a lot of effort. A lot of punishment. A lot of pain. But on the surface, you’ve transformed into the sweet swan that he’s dreamed about keeping in a gilded cage. Literally and otherwise. Of course, he’s not that easily fooled--he knows you still hate him, fear him, on the inside. No matter how much you embrace him or let him have his way with you, no matter how much you try to please him with words and kisses, you’re still fighting him in your heart. Beating against your cage with your wings when his back is turned, as it were.

And you know something? It’s just not good enough. His life is already a game of duality. And he wants only a singularity with you, a single reality where you are broken and his for however long he wants to keep you. What would be the point of throwing you away when you’re still fighting him?

And thus, it’s only fitting that you’re currently bound to the table where you’ve received your other punishments. He’s not much of a cleaner, and there’s still the odd blood stain lodged in the wood grains. A handy table with straps on each end that keep your wrists and ankle immobile. He’s even given you a pillow, because why not, why not?

It’s easier when you’re tied up to see the real you underneath, the desperate, terrified person that only wants to stay alive. That only wants to avoid pain. The remnants of blood stains underneath you are a testament to that.

You do put on a good show, otherwise. But not quite up to par, he admits, hence his critical review. If he was a theater critic, he might call your efforts “valiant, but not worthy of the highest acclaim.” Or perhaps “They clearly need a little more time to develop, but it’s a good effort.”

You can kiss him. You can perform for him. You can let him touch you and hurt you, when he wants, without complaint. But you can’t hide all of the little things that give you real state of mind away. The way your jaw trembles ever so slightly when you stand up on your toes (so precious) to give him a kiss. The quarter-second that your eyes drift away before you tell him you love him, you adore him, you never want to leave him. The slight hint of revulsion, always covered with a smile in an instant, when he enters your cage at night. 

Did you think you’re fooling him? He hopes you did. He loves the idea of snatching the rug from underneath your feet, nimble as they may be. You’re good at acting on the stage--he could wax poetry about how ethereal, how in-the-moment you look when you’re dancing; when you’re practically flying across the stage, your tulle skirts swishing and the thin soles of your shoes slapping against the hard floor.

But when you’re off the stage? The magic is lessened. There are no stage lights to cover up your occasional tired expression, no swelling music to add emphasis to your movements if they become too strained. No stage tricks to hide your face from the audience for a moment of reprieve. It is no good, after all, for Odile to seduce the prince with her arms, her legs, the fierceness of her fouettes--if her face gives away that she finds him repellent.

Without the trickery of the stage, you give yourself away. Which is one reason why he’s decided to be oh-so-cruel to you today. The other? He’ll never tell you. Maybe you’ll guess it someday, if you happen to glimpse the expression he holds as you pirouette across the stage, no limits, no boundaries, only the music and the motion and the buzz of the audience to lift you up high.

But, he muses, picking up the hammer--the noises you’re making, oh, how fun!--it’s time to get back to the task at hand.

“Or at foot,” he says, giggling. But you don’t get the joke. He approaches the head of the table and your muffled pleas grow louder. They’re so soft, so confused. What did you do? What did you do? Please, please, please. He’s heard it all before, but it’s still enjoyable to take in. Like a comforting book.

He trails a gloved finger along your cheek, spreading your tears around like a child tracing lines on a foggy car window.

“I know you want to fly away from me.” He keeps his tone light and teasing. You immediately shake your head in denial, and Christ in heaven is that fantastic, the way you want him to believe you no longer desire escape, no longer desire true freedom.

He tuts at you, wagging the tip of his gloved finger in front of your face before leaning in closer. “If I let you fly away, would you still be my pet? If you fly away on your own, would you be free?” It’s rhetorical, and your expression betrays your lack of understanding behind his words.

He does want to hear your voice behind the gag, so he swiftly undoes the tight knot and tosses the soaked fabric aside.

“Please, I love you,” you say immediately, voice weak and pleading. “Nik--Nikolai, I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” You hesitate for a moment, but then you continue. “I’m so sorry, whatever it is. I must have… disappointed you.” You lower your eyes and the downcast expression, the defeat in your gaze, makes him wish he had a camera on hand.

You’re so submissive. It really is beautiful. But you’re submissive because you want to avoid being hurt. You’re submissive because he’s got a hammer resting next to your precious feet and you don’t want him to lift up that hammer and bash your bones until they break.

Where’s the fun in that?

He hums to himself as he begins a deliberately slow walk back to the end of the table. He trails his fingers down your body and enjoys the sight of little goosebumps rising on your flesh, enjoys the way you squirm, just a bit, when he pokes at your sensitive side.

When he picks up the hammer, you begin to babble. The words aren’t important--he’s listening to the tone, the way your voice is thick with sadness and fear. Please, no, don’t, I’ll do anything; all words that run from your mouth like water through a stream. He ignores them and instead holds one of your feet still with his hand. There’s a power in your feet, thanks to the years of dancing and even more years of training. He thinks about taking that power away. About what that would mean. About what it would do to you.

When he rubs the end of the hammer against the top of your foot, you groan, a guttural sound of pure horror. The sound of someone whose entire reason for living, whose heartbeat, rests on the ability to dance. 

Your breath is sharp and scratchy when he suddenly lifts the hammer up and brings it crashing down on your ankle--where it immediately compresses and squeaks, high and childish.

It’s rubber. It’s a rubber toy. Nothing more.

Your breath comes out in short, harsh puffs. He takes in your expression, which is at once horrified and confused and relieved and even a bit angry.

“What--”

His sharp, pleased laughter interrupts you. And when he laughs, you laugh, just a little. He’s surprised that he can’t tell if it’s a genuine laugh of pure relief, an attempt to mimic him to stay in his good graces, or a sign that you’re losing your mind. Maybe it’s a mixture of all three.

He wastes no time in undoing your straps, and he pulls you into a sitting position. Your entire body is trembling, an adrenaline crash turning your legs to rubber as he helps you to your feet and loops your arm around his shoulders for added support. 

You don’t even have time to process the fact that he didn’t hurt you before he starts leading you out of the room and back to your pretty little cage and your pretty little bed. He drops you on the bed with a flourish, and you bounce slightly on the mattress--face still in shock, still processing.

“That was fun, right?” he says, voice once again teasing. “Now let’s play a little more.” He begins undoing his belt buckle, and what would have been the normal flash of revulsion on your face is replaced by something new: relief. Relief that you can dance? Relief that you didn’t earn any new scars, any new injuries, any new pain? He’s not sure that the exact reason matters. It’s something new, and it’s a step closer.

He grins and begins making quick work of his clothes. You’re already on your knees in front of him.

Relief, after all, comes in many forms.

[mehbzz]

Soft Whitney. Nothing in my head but soft Whitney. So a little Degrees of Lewdity fanfic drabble, no smut. abusive relationships, abusive parents and mc suffering from trauma and probably more than a little Stockholm syndrome. mentions previous sexual assault. I guess a more ooc Whitney.

not proofread just rambled.

You’re not sure why Whitney had wanted you along. He’d grabbed you as you were leaving school and dragged you into town with his friends but they’d all been pretty much ignoring you for the past half an hour as they smoked and joked and harassed the people passing by.

Not that you minded being ignored, you had been nervous and on edge around Whitney for the past week and you wondered if he’d finally noticed. Every movement and gesture he made towards you had been making you anxious. You were still not sure what you had done to deserve the punishment of being tied up and left to be gangraped by the sailors, but every since you’d been making yourself almost ill in effort to be as well behaved and as submissive as you could be. You didn’t want to go through that again. You didn’t think you could survive going through that again. You didn’t realise you’d zoned out completely until you notice Whitney in front of you, saying your name as he reaches for you, and you flinch violently backwards.

He pauses, surprise, anger and something else flicking across his face before he loops his arm around your shoulders and turns back to his friends.

“Got my slut to entertain me today, don't need you guys.” He leads you away, the mixed jeers and cheers from his friends fading as he walks you in silence towards to the beach. The panic reignites in your gut, the feeling of the rope around your wrists and the jeers of the sailors springing painfully to the front of your mind at the sounds of the waves. Before the panic can ignite into a full blown attack Whitney steers you to the left, disappearing into the very edge of the park, through a brambled mess of branches and into a well hidden secluded little glade. He lets you look around for a second. It’s a tiny clearing, a large tree in the middle, its branches causing shafts of sunlight to ripple across the ground. It’s quiet too; the distant sound of the sea and the gentle sound of birdsong is all you can really hear. He shoves you forward, ending your appraisal of the area and you stumble, only just catching yourself from going face first into the trunk of tree.

He winces as he sits down, and you feel flair of sympathy but know better than to mention it. You've only ever seen Whitney’s father from a distance but you know he shares Bailey's fondness for physical reprimands. The one time you'd tried to talk to Whitney about it he'd lashed out immediately, shoving his cock so roughly down your throat, you’d been in pain for days and you'd ended up going to see Dr Harper worried he'd actually injured you.

Whitney sits still, head tilted back to rest against the tree and his eyes closed. He looks handsome, blonde hair a scruffy mess and you stand there awkwardly still a little shaky from the panicked adrenaline, torn between sitting with him and trying to run. You're not sure which would earn you the bigger punishment.

"Sit."

He opens one eye as you cautiously sit down next to him, shoulders not quite touching, and smirks at you. "good puppy." It's patronising, teasing, but the paltry praise still sends a warm little frisson through you that you try to ignore.

Whitney closes his eyes again, an unlit cigarette rolling between his long slender fingers. It’s beauiful here, peaceful, but you're still anxious. Why did he bring you here? You had been expecting to get fucked in all honesty, but this area felt way too secluded for Whitney’s exhibitionist streak.

The click of his tongue piercing against his teeth let's you know he's getting frustrated, probably annoyed, and you tense, bracing yourself for whatever pain was going to come your way.

“Just fucking relax,” he sounds angry, and more than a little uncertain, the click of the silver ball increasing in frequency. "I usually come here when I need a break from all the bullshit."

You are glad he's not looking at you, as the shock written across your face at his vulnerable admission would have undoubtedly earned you a rough punishment. In fact you think he's doing his hardest not to look at you, face tilted to the side and eyes tightly closed. You don’t know how to respond. This is his safe place? And he’s sharing it with you? “It's nice here.” It’s a pathetic response but you don’t know what else to say. He doesn't acknowledge you and you shift a little closer until your shoulders are touching. You feel him relax at the small touch and he finally places the cigarette in his mouth, shifting till he finds his lighter and lights it with a small satisfied hum. If he is closer to you after his shifting around, his leg and thigh touching yours, you don't mention it. The pair of you sit silently for a few minutes, the warm sunshine starting to make you feel drowsy.

"Don't leave. I won't do it again." It's mumbled quietly under his breath, he even stutters slightly and for the second time in the space of 10 minutes you feel stunned by his behaviour. Whitney’s moods often gave you whiplash but this was something new.

"OK." You practically whisper back but again you're not sure what else to say. "Thank you." You probably shouldn’t have to be thanking your boyfriend for not selling you off to a bunch of sailors, but he sounds so vulnerable, so unsure, so unlike himself that your mind is too shocked to offer you any other response.

The clicking of his tongue stud continues. It's the biggest giveaway to his real mood that you'll ever have. Running it along his teeth is something he does when he's genuinely stressed or frustrated. You don't think he's aware he does it and you've never brought it up in case it takes away the only indicator you have to his true feelings.

You’re hit with the desperate need to reassure him, but you know any words you offer will immediately be thrown back in your face, so you opt for a more subtle approach. You let your hands relax on your thighs and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a split second at the contact but soon relaxes again, and thankfully he doesn't shove you off. The clicking sound stops as well.

"Tell anyone and I'll think of something worse than a gang of lonely sailors."

It’s a cruel but half hearted threat, a instinctive reaction to protect himself against appearing weak or soft so you don't reply and just nod, not wanting to ruin the fragile moment. You have no doubt insecurity and embarrassment will change his mood in a while, probably forcing you into some public sexual act in an attempt to reassure himself of his dominance over you and you want to enjoy the peace while you can. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and hesitantly wraps his pinky loosely around yours. You desperately want to link your fingers together but you know when you’re pushing your luck, so you sit quiet, content to let him push himself outside of his comfort zone without fear of reprimand or acknowledgement. It’s an odd talent you’d found yourself developing, the ability to comfort and encourage him without him realising you are doing either of those things. At least not yet.

He finishes his cigarette slowly, giving you the chance to doze off on his shoulder. "You better not have drooled on me." The confidence is back in his voice and you feel an odd mix of disappointed and content as he shoves you off him, still surprisingly gentle.

He dusts his hands off on your jeans and you pretend to ignore the pained noise he makes as he rises, looking away as he presses a hand to his ribs. “Get up then,” There's a pink tinge to his cheeks as you look up at him, and he's definitely avoiding eye contact with you as he holds out a hand to help you up. You take his hand but push yourself up, you don’t want to cause him anymore discomfort. You stand there holding his hand and you think for a split second that he’s going to kiss you, but you realise that’s too much gentleness for Whitney in too little amount of time as he smirks, and flicks your forehead hard instead. "c’mon slut, let's go to the pub."

[harryissuchalittleshit]

Five Men Who Broke Lily's Heart And One Who Healed It

For training prompt Tuesday, @petalstosarah, I told you I would make it angsty. You can read it below the cut or on Ao3!

1. Michael Evans, 1971

Lily could remember the day her father left like the back of her hand.

It had been sometime in quiet days after Christmas, but before New Year’s. He had stood in the doorway, his suitcase packed, his jacket on, his life with them erased from the walls of their home. She would see him again, just a small handful of times, but it would never be the same. He would never be her father, not like how he had once been before.

Lily would cry for hours and hours and hours after. Christmas would never be the same after that. She would find ways to stay away from home, from her mother and sister during the most festive time of year.

Michael Evans would never return to them. He would never pick Lily up and spin her around in his arms again, he would never kiss Iris again, he would never wink at Petunia and smile as they shared their own private joke again. The thing was, he would never be in their life again, not as he used to be, as he wanted to be, no, the separation would never go away.

He wasn’t breaking just his eleven year old daughter’s heart, he was breaking up a family. He was showing his daughter’s that faithfulness wasn’t a thing. He was showing them that men couldn’t be trusted.

How could they? He wasn’t faithful to their mother, he wasn’t kind to her, he broke the trust they had once created.

He broke the trust his daughters had in him.

Michael Evans was the first man to ever break Lily’s heart, and she would remember that. She would remember him and that cold, cold morning when he left. Lily and Petunia sitting side-by-side at the top of the stairs, their mother, Iris standing at the bottom, trying to protect them even then.

Michael Evans would die a few years later, when Petunia had left the house and Lily was away at school. Iris would get the last laugh, but even then it wouldn’t be kind, it wouldn’t be nice.

Either way, the damage was done.

2. Remus Lupin, 1973

The next one would be Remus Lupin.

He wasn’t a man yet, just a kind sweet boy who was thirteen. He studied with her in the library, they passed notes in Arithmancy as none of their friends were with them. They spent hours and days together, just the pair of them, just having fun and discovering a new friendship.

Until it became too real.

Lily would forever keep the photo of her and Remus, taken a warm and sunny day, the pair of them studying in the library, only looking up at the sound of the shutter clicking. The camera was a gift from her father, old and worn down, but still able to make something beautiful.

She would always have a copy, it would be framed, it would move from home to home with Lily. A document of a friendship that she loved, that she cared about, that ended one horrible day over a discovery made public.

She wasn’t afraid of Remus, no one could be afraid of a boy that tucked in his sweaters, and owned more cardigans than shirts, and who sing ever Beatles song as long as he heard the first few notes. No one could be afraid of a boy whose smiles had to earned and his laughter fought with well timed jokes. No one could be afraid of a boy who slept like the dead and studied as if his life was in danger.

No one was afraid of Remus Lupin, but he wasn’t just Remus Lupin.

It wasn’t the admittance of the truth, it was the lie to cover it up. Lily hated being lied to, it made her feel like she was eleven and crying into her sister’s shoulder as their father left to never return again. Broken trust, from a broken man.

It would take almost a full year for Lily to let her guard down again around him, a year of apologizes and passed notes and studying in the library together. It would take a year of whispered conversations and explanations for everything to go back to how it was.

It would take time for the trust to reform.

3. Sirius Black, 1976

When people hear the name Sirius Black, they think trouble.

They don’t think of a broken boy, of a child thrown out of a broken home. They don’t think of tattoos and motorbikes and leather jackets. The first word is trouble, the second is Marauder, the third is brother.

For Lily, it’s unfaithful.

Lily had known him for five years at this point, she had classes with him, she had been partnered with him more times that she could count, she had held his hand after he received Howler after Howler. She didn’t know what it meant to be a Black, but she did know what it meant to not feel at home in your own childhood home.

She knew what it felt like to not belong.

And with that they bonded, they drank tea and told stories about their siblings and cousins and parents, they shared their life. They were friends because none of their other friends got it, they were friends because they needed someone else to understand.

The pact had been simple. They would write during the summers, swap war stories twice a week of their craziness. They would share what they knew, what they could tell, what the other could understand.

But after a week in, Lily got radio silence.

Another week passed, then another, then another, unanswered and unopened letters littered her desk. Worries went unchecked.

Her worries grew, they went into overdrive, she cried herself to sleep. This boy that she loved, that she cared about, that knew her and the life she lived, was forced into during the summer and holiday visits had abandoned her.

This boy who knew everything, who understood everything…he broke her heart in the most selfish way.

Sirius Black would come back, he would squeeze her hand when Howlers came to him at Hogwarts, he would cry on her shoulder when his brother would die years later, he would walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. But he would also take something from her that summer, that long and hot and cruel summer without the lifeline of someone who understood a bitchy sibling and parents who didn’t know how to love a child different than them.

It would take months for Lily to love him again, but she would fall for his heart break all over again. It would never be his charms and jokes and infectious laughter that earned her heart, it would be his familiar tragedy and the way he helped save her.

4. James Potter, 1977

The first time Lily ever kissed James Potter, it was because he broke her heart.

Years and years and years of mixed feelings, of fights and arguments that never seemed to blow over, of day dreams and pining looks and lingers touches. It had been stupid, all of it had been stupid.

Love was stupid.

It was overrated, irrational, and life ending. And yet she fell.

She fell because despite all of the fights, all of the day dreams, all of his smiles and rushed words and his stupid, stupid ticks, she had always loved him. He had the rights to her heart when they met at eleven on the Hogwarts Express. She, going away from everything she knew at top speed, and he, surging forward towards everything he wanted.

She had always been a sucker for kind eyes and a nice smile. She just didn’t realize it until it was much too late.

Until her heart ached whenever he was near, until her head grew dizzy when their arms brushed, until she looked at him and saw everything she could ever want. This was a boy, no man, that you did fall in love with at first sight. That you let kiss you in the rain on a cold November night. That you cried over in bed because you couldn’t sleep at night.

James Potter was a man that love touched and didn’t let go.

It took Lily much longer to realize that she should’ve.

He broke her heart with a kind smile, his hazel eyes bright with laughter, his hair a frizzy halo around his head. He was tall and tan and so beautiful that it hurt to look at him, it hurt to try and smile and pretend that her heart didn’t want him.

James Potter was a man that didn’t deserve rejection.

It would take another month for her to pluck up the courage to tell him. To whisper her love for him on the last warm day of the year. It would take her time for her heart to mend itself, for her brain to forgive the pain in not allowing herself to love him. It would take Lily the rest of her short life to forgive him.

It would only take a moment to kiss him though. She would remember the fire in her veins, the aching in her chest, the fuzziness in her head. She would remember the warmth of his hands, the soft feel of his lips, the small moan that he made when she touched his throat.

She would remember the feeling of her heart knitting itself back together, slowly and carefully, but enough to feel whole again.

5. Peter Pettigrew, 1980

It would be much too late when Lily realized that Peter Pettigrew was the reason for her biggest heartbreak.

It would be long after her son was born, with soft spikey black hair and tan skin and her green eyes. He would be talking and walking and laughing when Lily realized that the tiny little man with sad blue eyes and anger in his heart betrayed her.

Betrayed James, betrayed Harry.

He would cause her death, so young, so prematurely, so unnecessary.

He had made her son be marked as an equal, a baby boy with a toothy grin and bright eyes, a baby boy who smiled and found laughter in everything. A baby boy who called him wo-my and giggled when Peter threw him in the air and always fell asleep in his arms.

Peter had broken her heart when she heard the door blast open, when she heard James fall to the floor, when a man who hated her because of her birth killed her.

But she felt the sadness much earlier. Looking at Peter hurt, not in the way it once had with James, no, it hurt because he was growing smaller, thinner, paler. He was no longer happy, he shied away at smiles and laughter, he grew unfamiliar.

He broke her heart long before the mark appeared on his arm, his greatest shame.

He broke her heart, and somehow, it was like he knew before it all came to an end.

1. Harry Potter, 1981

“Mama loves you.”

Lily stared at her son, his chubby cheeks and dark hair, his tan skin and toothy smile, she stared at her own eyes and tried to find the strength to say something else. Her baby boy was going to die and it was her fault.

“Mama loves you Harry,” she whispered, hoping and wishing that he would know that she never wanted this for him. Her baby boy, her only child, she would never have another, she would never live pass this next moment.

Harry would never know her, never know James, he would never know the love she had for him.

One more man to break her heart.

Go ahead, break my heart. You can break it a thousand times if you so desire. It’s been yours break since the day we met.

She had once stood in front of James and told him that he could end her, break her heart over and over and over again. But even then the words hadn’t been meant for him, they were for Harry, they were for their son.

“Mama has had her heart broken so many times, Harry,” whispered Lily, desperate to get the words out, to let her baby boy know how much she loved him. “But you are the one that I’ll never be angry about, you are the one that I loved most.”

She wished that she could kiss James one last time; that she could hug Remus and tell him how much he meant to her; that she could cry into Sirius’ shoulder and hold his hand; that she could say goodbye to her father once again; that she could be the one to murder Peter.

She wished that her son could grow up loved and safe and protected.

She wished that she could hold him and never let him go, never put him down again.

She wished that the green light wasn’t the same shade as her eyes.

“Mama loves you Harry, forever and ever Heartbreaker.”

[softrozene]

Sacrifice

@luna-hatake-uchiha​ requested: Hi. First of all, I want to wish you a happy new year. I read on Archiv of your Own that your request box is open... Soo could you please write a scenario where Law and his s/o are having a daughter and after a few years their daughter shows symptoms of the Amber Lead poisoning? And Law doing everything he can to heal her? (This is my first time doing this and I'm sorry if I sound rude somewhere.)

You were perfect in requesting Hon! Apologies for how late this is (I hope you had a good start to the new year!) but omg- That would be so heartbreaking ahhhhh. This came out pretty angsty but I tried to give it a neutral ending! I hope you enjoy it!

This turned into a one-shot oops.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Angst- Spoilers of Law’s past. Can be considered a good or sad ending! Uhh Post-Pirating au? Law is retired from the pirate life lol, grammar

*Instead of 2nd pov I wrote this in 3rd pov for a change. : )

Also, yeah- I am pretty sure that Law would be able to cure his daughter of this because of his Devil Fruit and it’s “Miraculous” abilities but I went for the more angsty side, so I made it more complicated than that lol. I just love the idea of protective dad Law.

Words: 1983

-

The smell of coffee is usually a scent that brings the pregnant woman, (Name), a comfort since that means she can sneak a sip from her husband’s cup but right now… It is too early for coffee. He should be in bed with her, but the sun is not even up. With exhaustion evident on her face and the goal of finding Law and bringing him back to bed- She regretfully leaves the warm bed.

The house they have is a decent-sized home. Two bedrooms- The one they share together, and the guest room, a nursery that Law and (Name) have been working on and of course, Law’s office to store his medical books and journals, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small cozy living room.

It felt like bliss living here.

Even more so with the bun in the oven. Law was in shock when he realized his wife was indeed pregnant, but it made the joy of retiring from piracy to enjoy a domestic life with her all the better. It most certainly eases his thoughts that most of his crew also retired here on this peaceful island.

Things could not have turned out more perfect for them.

Though… That was about to change as (Name) walks into his office- The light from it leaking out into the hallway. The smell of coffee gets stronger, and she smiles upon seeing how serious her husband is looking through some of his books.

No matter what he is doing, he looks so handsome.

Something he got used to arguing with her saying how she is crazy for thinking his eyebags are attractive. It was all jokes sure but (Name) was serious and proud to say he was handsome. His personality definitely that too. She can rely on him and him on her and that is something hard to do for the both of them.

Law is too in the zone in the book so (Name) uses that to her advantage. She sneaks up behind him and is quick to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. His tense body immediately relaxes within her hold and he turns to offer her a tired smile.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly as a hand comes up to meet her swollen belly.

(Name) laughs and holds his hand to her stomach. “Yes, but it is fine. I just got cold without your warmth. That and the beautiful smell of coffee. I think our daughter wants a sip.”

Law’s face turns into a scolding one immediately making his wife laugh as she continues, “Hey! You said I could have some in moderation! I think a tiny sip is less than that and yes, I know we do not know if our child will be a girl, but I just have this feeling…”

Law sighs but… Then smiles as he just shakes his head. He gives in knowing full well that his wife’s point was mainly about getting her daily sip of coffee in. He pulls away from his wife’s loving hand to reach for his mug of coffee. Being careful of the still-hot contents in it. He hands it to her and watches as she smiles and takes her desired sip. Handing it back to him he puts it on the desk and immediately pulls the pregnant woman onto his lap earning himself a giggle from her.

“Anyway, what are you doing up, my love?” She asks as she nuzzles her face into his neck the best she can.

At this question, Law turns tense. His sigh comes out stressed as he hesitates to speak. He thinks it would be better now to share his concern, especially when it is such a valid one.

“I… Fear that our child may get Amber Lead Poising. It is a hereditary disease,” Law mumbles.

This makes his wife freeze up. She knows his pain with that. The fear of it. He must have been bottling it up until he just could not ignore the possibility. With a gentle sigh, (Name) places a tender kiss on his lips, momentarily distracting him from his painful thoughts.

“My love, please come back to bed. After a few more hours of sleep, you can come back in here… And no matter what happens with our child- I have faith that you will find a cure. Until then, try not to worry. Otherwise, you are going to send yourself into an early grave by putting all that stress on your heart,” (Name) says as a yawn escapes her.

Law can only smile now. She truly is his best friend. His other half. She knows how to ease his worries even if it is temporarily, but what she said… It also rings true. He vows to find a cure in the case that their child will get that stupid disease.

~*~

The rest of the pregnancy goes by quickly and as soon as the baby, a girl, is in their arms it feels like total bliss for them. It is everything they never imagined having but makes their lives totally complete. Her middle name is in memory of Law’s younger sister. The full name being Trafalgar Lami Lin.

“She looks like you already- Look at those wide (eye color) eyes,” Law says with a gentle smile on his face.

He never imagined he could allow himself to be this soft and vulnerable. To share it with (Name). His wife laughs as she leans against his arm as he holds their little girl in his arms. Both (Name) and the baby are exhausted.

“Thank the gods she does not look like a mini sleep-deprived version of you. Well, if she takes my looks, I only hope she gains your intelligence,” (Name) jokes.

Law smirks at the playful tone and as if he remembers sighs- “I forgot to tell you. What is left of the crew will be coming here tomorrow. They were even more excited than us combined.”

“Looks like we got a couple of free babysitters… I trust Bepo with her. Sachi and Penguin might drop her.”

Law sweatdrops at this and wishes he could argue back but… His wife is right. He makes a mental note to have Bepo be their go-to babysitter.

~*~

Days pass by fast when you feel joy and they pass even faster when you feel like the world suddenly has a time limit on it. Law promised his wife to enjoy the days with them and he did, but he spent countless nights trying to find a cure- Getting so close to finding something that can help in the case his daughter gets the disease.

The baby grows quickly into a child, but it was the age of five when Law realizes that she has those stupid white spots on her skin- Meaning she has Amber Lead Poisoning. He felt like he was suffocating. She was not supposed to get it. He paid his dues during his piracy. His loss of Rosinante. His loss of family. He paid whatever the hell life thought he owed it, so she was supposed to be in the clear.

She was not.

He knows that is just wishful thinking. His whole family got it and Amber Lead is a hereditary disease. He was supposed to die at age thirteen. He did not all because he ate a fruit thanks to Rosinante. Just because he ate a fruit and cured himself does not mean he could actually cure Amber Lead with his fruit.

He could try and cure Lin as he did himself. Using the fruit’s "miraculous" properties which is having the ability to cure any kind of illness. However, this requires some extent of medical knowledge in order to be utilized effectively. He has that knowledge, but he does not have the full knowledge to cure others of this disease. He cured himself because he ate the fruit.

He needs a real cure. One to ensure that this disease does not follow into the genes anymore. He wants to ensure that if his daughter wants a family of her own- If she makes it to that age, he wants her to be able to not have to think about her own children having the disease.

He estimated she would only have a few years left. Until those white spots grow big enough to almost devour her. His blissful life turned into a nightmare for him. He always could not stand the thought of losing (Name) and the feeling was deeper with their daughter Lin since she was only a child.

She deserved a long and happy life.

He was going to sacrifice his time to ensure that.

It was during one of these nights when he cursed out life for being cruel that Law had an epiphany. Something in his research began to make sense for a cure- It was uncertain, but it was something and it was this night that his wife was woken up when he got up out of excitement to begin writing on a large board he put together. He accidentally dropped a book nothing too alarming, so he was surprised to see his wife checking on him.

Her large eyes watching the board- Trying to decipher his valid obsession of finding a cure. He could not contain his excitement as he pauses briefly to place a kiss on his wife’s lips.

“Whoa. You are super cheery for once,” She notes.

Law can only smile. “I think I am close to finding something. A cure. It would still be a while before I have something solid but… This is it. It has to be it.”

Hearing this fills (Name) up with excitement too. Only to see Law experience a crash. He is at his limit for tonight since he spent all day shopping with his daughter and wife to go to Penguin’s birthday (definitely an alcohol) party. He should be totally spent after today.

(Name) only hugs him feeling his body immediately relax into hers and he freezes upon remembering something. Pulling back slightly he looks at his darling wife and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey… I do need to tell you something. If this lead goes nowhere. I am going to use the Ope Ope no Mi fruit on her,” Law states.

(Name) freezes in his grip. Understanding these words. That means he is going to sacrifice his life for their daughter if he can’t make a cure. He is willing to use the fruit’s powers for what others have wanted it for. Immortality.

He is willing to grant their daughter “eternal youth” if it means she can experience life without the disease affecting her.

His mind is dead set on that backup plan so all (Name) Can do is nod. He smiles at her though as to reassure her.

“That is just a backup plan. We still have a few years left but as of now, I do believe it is time to get in contact with that crazy pirate- Luffy. I need him to bring Chopper here. With Chopper’s help this should work,” Law murmurs more to himself.

He is exhausted.

“Alright Love- I will go get in contact with them. I will send a letter. Though… I think you should head to bed. You did well. You are such a good father,” (Name) murmurs.

Hearing this… Law really feels like he might break. All of these restless nights are going to be worth something. He is going to do what his dad almost did for his younger sister. He will cure his daughter and be able to watch her grow.

“Law… You are getting my hair wet with your snot and tears.”

“Shut up,” He mumbles as he holds his partner.

She laughs and the two stay like that- Content that there is hope for their daughter.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Ray Toro x Reader - Deadline - Part Two

Request: Ooh what about a part 2 for Deadline where Mikey doesn't know that they confessed and he goes to Ray and tells him and they just play along thxx

Summary: Mikey still plans to tell Ray you’re in love with him, not knowing Ray and you are already together

Word count: 1 276

Part One

Maybe it was mean. Maybe Mikey did not deserve it. But then again maybe he did. If he had not tried pressuring you into telling Ray how you felt about him, you might have told him about the turn of events, of how you had accidentally confessed your feelings for the guitarist, how you had kissed while watching the sunset. But because Mikey had teased you, you did not tell him. But you told Ray about what Mikey had been up to, and Ray being Ray, came up with a plan on the spot.

As much as it pained both of you not to be able to finally kiss and hug whenever you wanted, you decided you should wait until the following evening before revealing the newest development. After all, that evening Mikey’s deadline was running out, and if he really planned on telling Ray how you felt for him, that would be incredible amusing.

Sure enough you all had dropped down in the dressing room after the show was over, sweaty and exhausted, when Mikey shot you a devilish glance. Oh how much you wanted to hate him, but at the same time you knew that it was him he was going embarrass.

“So, (y/n),” he spoke up, speaking a little louder than he would have done usually to get everyone’s attention. Luckily nobody other than the five band members were present. “How’ve you been?”

“Dude, we’ve been spending the past three months on super tight space, you know how I’ve been doing,” you rolled your eyes, knowing he was simply searching for a way into the conversation.

“How’s that thing going?”

“What thing,” Frank turned around from where he had changed into a fresh shirt, eyeing you curiously, “are you working on that drum-solo again? Man, I sure hope you do, because it’s about fucking time you finally get one.”

“As a matter of fact, I have, Frank,” you grinned, shooting Mikey a smug grin. “I’m almost finished, maybe two more days? And then I could play it to you guys, to get your opinion.”

“You’re the drummer, (y/n). If you think it’s good enough, then it’s probably better than that,” Frank grinned. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Maybe you should play it to Ray first,” Mikey suggested, earning raised eyebrows from you, “you know, he’s a good drummer too. You two might want some alone time.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s much I could help (y/n) with,” Ray laughed, knowing as well as you did, what Mikey was planning, “they’re a bloody brilliant drummer.”

“But maybe (y/n) would like to get some help from you, Ray,” Mikey teased, sending you a huge grin.

“Mikey, stop it,” you warned.

“Stop what?” Now even Gerard had noticed the increasingly weird conversation.

“Isn’t there something you’d like to tell –“

“Don’t make a fool out of yourself, Mikes,” you reminded him, but he only grinned wider.

“Ray, what would you say if I told you that (y/n) would like to… get to know you a little better?”

You could feel Ray’s side glance on you, before he spoke, and you had to try really hard to hold in your laughter.

“Get to know me better,” he asked innocently while putting down a water bottle he had been drinking from, “I think we already know each other pretty well, to be honest.”

“Yeah, but only as friends,” Mikey argued.

“Wait a sec,” Frank jumped up, wide eyed, “are you saying-“ he pointed between you and Ray

Mikey just shrugged.

“I knew it,” Frank cheered, “I knew (y/n) had a thing for Ray!”

“Wow, okay, calm down, Frank,” you rolled your eyes. How many times had you done that today already?

“What-? What are you saying,” Gerard asked, stepping closer.

“Just that maybe (y/n) likes Ray more than just as a friend, or band mate,” Mikey giggled.

“You sound like a twelve year old who just found out their friend has a crush,” you mumbled, and even though you knew that what Mikey so enthusiastically announced was no news to Ray, you could feel a blush burn in your cheeks.

“Well, I sure hope they do,” Ray shrugged carelessly, “otherwise me telling them that I love ‘em yesterday would have been very embarrassing.”

Ray’s casual statement had the hoped for effect. For a few seconds there was absolute silence in the changing room. The Mikey, Frank and Gerard all started talking at once.

“Oh, this is some good shit right there guys,” Frank laughed, “ha, I can’t fucking believe you just told him his lover loves him. Oh my god, Mikey!”

“When did that happen? Why didn’t I know of this? How come Mikey knew, but I didn’t? Am I that bad at keeping secrets? Hey, since when are you two a thing? You’re my best friend, Ray, how could you not tell me,” Gerard whined.

But shouting over both Frank and Gerard was Mikey.

“You already knew? What the hell? Were you just playing me,” he asked, gesturing wildly between Ray and you, “all this time I was trying to set you up, and you don’t even tell me once you’re actually together? How can you be so cruel? I just want you two to be happy and you-“

“That’s what you get for blackmailing me,” you laughed, “serves you right!”

“They do have a point, Mikey,” Gerard agreed. “You can’t just tell someone somebody likes them! What if they don’t feel the same! What if you would have embarrassed (y/n)!”

“Well, I knew I wouldn’t embarrass them, at least not for long,” Mikey defended, “because actually-“

“Actually I had already told him that I like (y/n),” Ray explained, “so from that perspective it was all fail safe.”

For a moment there was silence again.

“So in other words, Ray and (y/n) are dating now,” Frank concluded, and shrugged. “I can live with that.”

“Good to know you won’t drop dead now,” you joked, and Frank sent a mocking air kiss your way.

“So…” Gerard looked into everyone’s faces before turning to Ray and you, “congratulations or something?”

You laughed and Ray was about to reply something equally stupid when Frank interrupted him.

“Yeah yeah, rainbows and pink fluffy clouds and all that, but I’m hungry can we go out for dinner?”

Ray turned to you and shook his head before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Such a romantic, isn’t he,” he joked, making you giggle.

“But he’s right, I’m starving too,” you admitted.

“So am I,” Mikey pipped in, “but actually I might just need a distraction from this embarrassment. You’re already together, oh man.”

“Dinner it is then,” Gerard agreed.

Frank cheered quietly, and one after the other left the changing room, until only Ray and you were left. When you were about to leave as well, Ray grabbed your wrist and held you back.

“Happy with your revenge,” he asked quietly, a soft smile on his lips.

“Very,” you agreed and smiled back. “but even happier about being able to do this.”

And with that you got on your tip toes and gently kissed Ray, making him smile. He was pulled you closer and was about to wrap you in a hug, when Frank suddenly shouted for you to come.

Unwillingly Ray pulled away from you.

“One of these days we might be able to kiss without being constantly interrupted,” he joked, taking your hand in his, just like he had done the day prior.

“While being on tour with those three idiots?” you asked, following him as he led you out of the changing room and down a corridor, “Keep dreaming.”

  Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know; crossed out are blogs i cannot tag anymore):

General: @alexstyx @recommendedattheprice @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @vamp-void @angelevansfalls

MCR: @deadlovers​

[ray-ray-writings]

ok so you know how the reader will call phil dad while dating technoblade? ok so what if the readers actual dad (who she doesn’t have a very good relationship with) comes back and ends up finding her in the tundra cabin with techno and phil, and is basically trying to grab her and force her home and phil and techno are having none of that so they’re like “get out of here before we take all your lives” and eventually the dad will leave but the reader will like be sobbing after it’s all over and techno and phil are like comforting her and reassuring her? tysm ❤️

Oh boy…. Here we go

The day was a normal day. Philza had come over for funzies, you two had decided to make cookies while Techno watched and laughed at you two. As you and Philza rolled out the cookies and placed them on the tray, a knock sounded at the door. You’re head snapped to Techno as you held up your dough covered hands. He just laughed and rolled his eyes before getting up and heading to the door. You and Philza go back to joking and laughing and soon you hear Techno say, “Uh, can I help you?” “Yeah is Y/N home” and then you freeze. You would recognize that voice anywhere. How the hell did he find you? Philza immediately notices the change in your demeanor, “Are you okay honey?” he asks, setting down the cookie dough and wiping his hands clean. You stare at him with wide eyes with your heart pounding as you slowly wipe your hands clean as well, “That’s Y/F/N. That’s my bio father” and Philza freezes too. He’s heard all about the man you had the unfortunate of calling your biological dad. Stories about things he did to you as a child, the horrible names he called you as a teen, and the thing he did the day that finally pushed you over the edge causing you to leave. You hear Techno hesitate at the door. “Uhhhh… Who’s asking?” “Listen kid. I know they live here, just tell me if they’re home or not” you father’s aggressive tone bites out. You have to take deep breaths in order to keep yourself calm. You move toward the door, but Philza gently grabs your arm, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to honey.” He whispers to you, “I know dad. But I think it’s the only way to get him to leave” 

And as Techno is about to bite back an answer, to tell your father off, your hand rests on his shoulder, immediately relaxing him. He turns his head to you with a confused expression but you gently move him out of the way. Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet the cruel one that you left behind so long ago, “Hello Y/F/N” you choke out. The name that escapes your lips causes Techno to stiffen. So this is the motherfucker that caused you so much pain. Oh boy, now your pink headed boyfriend is on high alert. A cruel smirk finds its way forms on your biological father’s face as his eyes meet yours. “Oh Y/N/N, have we really resorted to first names? I’m your dad” he claims with a false sweetness that makes you flinch. “You are not my dad,” you manage to spit out, “You are simply a sperm donor and that’s all you will ever be to me.” The fake smile melts off of Y/F/N’s face and he just looks pissed now. “I am your dad and I’ve come to take you home.” He announces, reaching forward and trying to grab your wrist, but you pull away in time, “I will be going nowhere with you. Not now, not ever. This is my home now and there is nothing you can do to change that.” “This is not your home. I will be taking you home right now” He spits, lurching forward again and this time actually managing to grab your wrist. Techno and Philza this whole time were silent and just watching the interaction, but as soon as Y/F/N put his hands on you, all bets were off. 

The two jumped into action. Techno grabs your father’s arm, the one that wasn’t holding you, and quickly twists it in a way that makes him drop your wrist and pins him up against a wall. Philza rushes behind you and pulls you away and cradles you to his chest in a warm hug. “Are you okay sweetheart?” Philza asks, running his hand down your hair trying to comfort and soothe you. “Yeah, dad. I’m alright” you reply, putting extra emphasis on the dad part. “Dad? You call this loser dad? Y/N he’s just a-” He doesn’t get to finish because Techno pulls him off the wall and slams him back into it causing him to let out a loud “Oof”. Once he’s sure you’re okay, Philza let’s go of you and slowly walks over to Y/F/N. “Yeah, Y/N calls me dad. They call me dad because I’ve earned it. I’ve spent a lot of time gaining their trust and making sure they’re safe and taken care of. I’ve never tried to force them to do things they didn’t want to do, and I sure as hell haven’t called them horrible names or beaten them. I know I don’t really deserve to be called their dad, but you sure as hell don’t deserve it either.” Philza spits in the darkest tone you have ever heard come from his lips. “Now here’s what’s going to happen,” Techno jumps in after Philza has finished, “You’re going to leave and you’re never going to come back. And if you do come back, we’ll take all of your lives. Kill you so much that you never ever come back in this life. If you think that I’m joking, then you have no idea who I am. I’m Technoblade. I’m the Blood God. I’ve taken countless lives and I’m not afraid to take yours. Do you understand me?” Techno barks into Y/F/N’s ear. All of the cocky demeanor has completely left Y/F/N’s body and he’s terrified and it shows. He can only nod, causing Techno to grin, “Good.” And in one swift motion Techno pulls your father from the wall and throws him, legitimately throws him out the still open door. Techno then slams the door shut. 

Once the door is shut and Y/F/N is out of your home, you can’t help it. Your strong demeanor crumbles and you begin sobbing at what just happened. The men again jump into action and pull you into a big comforting hug. They let you cry it out. They whisper sweet words in your ear, reassuring you that he’s gone and he won’t be coming back but even if he does, they remind you of the promise that Techno made to kill him. They don’t stop comforting you until the sobs die from your lips and the tears stop flowing. It’s silent for a few moments, you three just standing there, hugging. It’s nice. “Thanks guys,” you finally manage to sniff out, pulling away from their arms. “Anything for you baby,” Techno says with a soft smile. “Yeah, anytime kiddo. Anytime.” “Can we go back to making cookies now?” The two let out a laugh at the request but nod, “Yeah kiddo. Of course we can”

And so the rest of the day is spent in the kitchen, this time Techno actually joining you and Phil making the sweet treats. The two do their absolute best to keep your mind off of what happened. It works for the most part, you are just so surrounded by love and support that you can’t help but forget about the POS that is your biological father. And when you have such an amazing boyfriend and amazing dad that claims you as his own, how could you not?

There you go! I am finally caught up with drabble requests! So you can send in more if you’d like! I probably won’t write more tonight because I am very tired, but I will absolutely be writing more tomorrow!!

[tg-headcanons]

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | THREE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,310

warnings: depression, anxiety, grief, mental illness! descriptions of injury/blood/gore! angst

18+!!! minors stay away!

Peter Parker: are you okay??

Peter Parker: (Y/N)?

Peter Parker: why aren't you at school? please tell me you're okay

You shut your phone off and buried your head under your pillow again, wishing for nothing more than to go back to sleep and escape life completely. All weekend long, and especially all morning, your phone had been ringing non stop with texts from Peter Parker. As much as you wished you could say you hadn't read them, you had.

You'd read them all almost as soon as you'd received them, but you just couldn't bring yourself to respond. You didn't need friends. You didn't want friends. Peter Parker was not your friend, and you were determined to keep it that way. No matter how hard he tried to force himself into your life, you were not going to let him in; you couldn't.

You couldn't let him in and risk getting hurt again, and today was yet another painful reminder of why. It was her birthday. At least, it would have been if she weren't dead. If you hadn't put her in the wrong place at the right time, ending her life and ruining yours forever.

For one tiny moment after you woke up, one minuscule fraction of a second, you forgot the importance of the day. You forgot what made the day different, and you forgot that your sister was dead. Or, rather, did you forget you ever had a sister at all? Had--that was the word that made you weep.

That fleeting moment of ignorance was the exact reason why it should have been you and not her. Surely, she never would have forgotten your birthday, or you, or your absence. She never would have looked at the date and even hesitated in remembering what the significance was. Always the better sister, the better person, the one who deserved it all.

Since that moment you had not left your bed, and Peter's latest slew of texts forced you to look at the time and acknowledge that hours had passed. It was lunch time, hours and hours since you'd awoken, and you had not moved even an inch. Everything felt too heavy.

The air felt too thick, gravity too strong, your body made of stone; you wondered if you were even able to move. Of course, you had shut your phone off so clearly you could move, but you didn't want to. It was so hard, so unbelievably hard to move. Why did everything have to be so tough?

As you laid there, staring at the blackened void of the backs of your eyelids because you just couldn't shut your mind off, your thoughts wandered through all the darkest places. Would she have been ashamed to see you like this? Would she have been disgusted with how you were acting, the person you had become?

God, why couldn't you just shut it off? Why couldn't you just make it all stop? That was all you wanted anymore. You wanted the thoughts, the feelings, the memories, everything, to just go away. You wanted to just exist in the empty void that only came about when you were sleeping. The space where your senses were gone and it was just you.

Or, maybe, you didn't want to exist at all. That wasn't to say that you wanted to die, even though you did, but rather that you just wanted to cease to exist. You wanted to never be, to never have been. It was complex thought that was equally as heavy and taxing to ponder.

Would that have made a difference? Would she have lived if you had never been around, never been alive, to lead her down all the paths that lead to that moment? If you hadn't existed, she wouldn't have been in the park at that perfect moment. If she, by some mystical force, had been there anyways, she wouldn't have lingered behind to save you.

Everyone's lives would have been so much better without you. Your parents wouldn't have had to work so much to afford everything for you and your sister. Your grandma might have lived longer, not having to exert herself so much to watch after the troublesome child that you had been. Maybe the butterfly effect of your lack of existence would have reached so far that the world would generally be a better place, too.

You barked a laugh at the thought, your voice hoarse from dehydration and lack of use. How pathetic it was of you to think you had so much of an impact! You surely were not so important that you changed that much about the world.

"(Y/N), honey?"

The world got a little heavier at the sound of your door creaking open and your mother's soft, hesitant voice. When you didn't respond, nor even move a muscle, she sighed, "(Y/N), you need to eat. I made some soup, I'll even bring it up to you if you want."

Despite the fact that you didn't feel hungry in even the slightest capacity, your stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of food. "Okay." you whispered, and when the door clicked shut again the silence was overwhelming.

She would have been so disappointed in you. You knew just how much you worried your parents with every passing day, and as much as you wanted to be better and make them feel better, you just couldn't bring yourself to care. You couldn't bring yourself to care about your wellbeing or how all the things you were doing, or not doing, affected your parents.

Caring wasn't easy anymore, and it felt foreign. You were so bogged down under all the baggage on your back, on your shoulders, and on your head that you couldn't expend any of the energy required to do so. If you did, if you tried, you'd surely have collapsed under the weight.

Your mother came back and left once more just as quickly, sighing quietly as she tried and failed to rouse you from your bed. You'd remained silent through the creak of the door, the soft clatter of the bowl and spoon being placed on your nightstand, her soft breathes of disappointment, and the click of the latch as she left again. You even held your breathe, so immersed in listening to all her little noises that you forgot about the air you needed to live.

When your mother returned to your room later that day, though it felt like seconds for you, she ripped the blankets from your body and blinked down at you tearfully. "You didn't eat." she stated simply, gesturing to the still full bowl of soup that was now ice cold.

You blinked back, though the tears in your eyes were due to the sudden burn of being open rather than emotion. The numbness had creeped in at some point during the day, and you couldn't feel a thing aside from empty. She waited there for a long, pregnant moment for you to respond, but you had no words.

What were you meant to say? You could hear your sister's voice scolding you for ignoring her, but you just couldn't think of the right thing to say anymore. "Get up, (Y/N). Dinner is getting cold and you're going to eat with us, even if I have to drag you out of this bed myself." your mother finally demanded.

Weakly, you clambered out of your bed and followed her downstairs. She tried to hide it, probably for your sake, but you could see the pleased smile on her face as she finally got you out of your bed. You wondered what it felt like to smile anymore. Could you smile anymore? You'd tried a few times, but it always felt awkward and forced and never looked quite right.

"She lives!"

You grimaced, your version of a smile, at your father's bland attempt at humor that earned a warning glare from your mother. Yes, you lived, and that was the problem. You didn't want to. You shouldn't have. It should have been her coming down to dinner to celebrate her birthday, not you trudging to the table to try and ignore the party that should have been taking place.

She would have been nineteen. Would she have liked college? Would she have found a cute college boy to date, maybe have brought him home to meet the family on her birthday? Your mother made her favorite food, a family recipe, and you pretended you didn't notice.

It didn't taste as good without her around to gush over it in anticipation. You'd never been much of a fan in the first place, but as a little sister it was your duty to love everything your big sister did. Food included, and you'd eagerly sucked down that casserole for years and claimed it was your favorite too.

"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere!" your mother announced, wiping her hands on a napkin as you choked down the last pea on your plate.

When she returned a few moments later with a large chocolate cake in her hands, a cold sweat blossomed over your body and you stiffened. "What's that?" you demanded, staring wide eyed at the all-too-familiar cake incredulously.

It was a rhetorical question. You knew exactly what it was, but you were horrified to see it. She'd made her famous chocolate cake, the same cake she'd made every year for your sister's birthday because, like the casserole, it too was her favorite.

Was this some kind of sick joke? Why did she make a cake? Your sister was gone, and there was nothing to celebrate. If anything you wished to still be hidden away under your blankets, moping and wishing for peace. Yet, here was your mother, placing the cake down on the table with a sheepish smile and watery eyes.

She stared at the cake, avoiding your eyes as she sniffed, "I just... I thought that maybe this would make it feel like she's still here. I just wanted a little bit of her to make the day a little less sad."

"She's not here, Mom." you snapped, "She's not here, and this isn't going to change that."

With a loud screech from your chair that scraped across the floor, you bolted away from the table and back to your room. God, why are you being so horrible? She's just trying her best, you don't have to be so hard on her... Your sister's voice echoed in your mind, rattling around your skull so hard you swore you could feel your teeth chatter.

She was right, and you knew it. You knew you were being unfair, cruel even, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help the uncontrollable guilt that seeing all your sister's favorite foods brought creeping back over you. You couldn't help the bile that steadily rose up your throat at the thought of her, the sight of her ever-present empty chair.

You couldn't help any of it. The anger and guilt was too much to bear, especially as you heard your mother's choked sob echo from the dining room all the way to your bedroom. You'd done that. You'd made her cry with your selfish contempt. You were truly the worst.

Collapsing back onto your bed and burying yourself under your blankets, you smothered yourself with your pillow until it felt like your lungs were going to explode. The tears never came, though you wished for them desperately. You felt like crying, you wanted to cry, but you couldn't. You were all cried out once more.

A loud knock on your window startled you awake, and you blinked in surprise at the pitch darkness of your room. You couldn't remember falling asleep, but that was fairly typical anymore. When you don't dream, there's never really much to differentiate between wake and rest. It was always just like blinking your eyes--one moment it was one day, and the next it was another.

Time moved pretty strangely ever since the incident, you'd discovered. Sleep made time seem longer, more impactful, and without it the days all blurred together. Another knock caught your attention, followed by another, before there was a steady rapping at the glass pane that made you furrow your eyebrows.

You clicked the power button on your phone only to huff when you remembered you'd shut it off, and turned to face the window. A shadow passed before it and your heart stuttered frightfully. Another knock, another shadow, and you were surprised you hadn't peed your pants in fear. There was someone out there.

A head popped up over the windowsill, falling heavily against the glass with a loud bang that made you jump. "What the--Peter?" you gasped, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting until you could make out the familiar suit of Spiderman.

What the hell was Peter doing at your window, and why was he still dressed up in his stupid costume? Begrudgingly, yet secretly curious, you creeped out of your bed and opened the window with furrowed eyebrows. "Peter, what are you doing here?" you whispered, but he didn't respond.

Well, he didn't respond with words. He groaned, a strange gargled noise like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of water, and his head lolled to the side weakly. Prodding his shoulder, he nearly tumbled to the ground until you caught him awkwardly and strained to keep him upright. "P-please, help." he gasped.

Your heart was racing, and your mind was moving nearly as fast with a million questions. How the hell did Peter know where you lived? Why was he at your window? What was wrong with him? Why did he think you were the person to help him? Why, what, why, how, all the questions remained unanswered.

It was a great struggle to drag Peter through your window, a task that was done without much help from the surprisingly heavy boy who leaned nearly all of his weight onto you. You did it, though, and bit back a scream when you pulled your hands away to find them covered in blood. As you stared at the dark, red stains on your flesh, the smell of it hit you and your head was spinning.

Blood, and a lot of it. Immediately your mind brought you back to that fateful day, images of your sister's lifeless form flashing before your eyes and blurring the world around you. Your breathing grew shallower, and just as the tunnel vision started to encroach, Peter garbled, "Please, (Y/N), you need to help me."

He weakly slapped at his chest until his suit deflated like a balloon, peeling away from his body like a loose tarp that was easily pulled away from his skin. "Oh, my god!" you wailed. His body was riddled with cuts, scrapes, and bruises galore. You wondered if any of his skin remained unbroken, because everything was black, blue, and red.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your fight or flight switched gears to fight. You weren't entirely sure why, because you were crying and holding back vomit like your life depended on it, but you raced around your room to gather anything you could to staunch the bleeding. Every breathe you took overwhelmed you with the smell of blood, that familiar metallic scent of iron or pennies, but you couldn't breathe through your mouth.

If you opened your mouth, you were surely going to lose all the food you'd eaten for dinner. All you could think of was your sister. You thought of what she would have done, and you knew that you were making the right choice in helping him. She would never have left him to fend for himself. Most of all, though, you thought of your sister and how you hadn't stopped her from dying, and you couldn't do that again.

You couldn't let another person die as a result of your actions. You couldn't, and you wouldn't. So, you worked hard and fast through all your crying to patch Peter up as best as you could. Nothing needed stitches as far as you could tell, but nearly every inch of his skin was broken with some form of scrape, scratch, or cut.

It was messy, and by the time you finished you were pretty sure you had more of Peter's blood on your skin and clothes than he had on himself. He was asleep, or unconscious, you weren't entirely sure. What you were sure of, though, was that the sun was rising and he needed to leave. You needed him to get out, both for the sake of your mentality and your parents'.

So, you jabbed your fingers into his shoulder and hissed, "Wake up!"

He awoke frantically, his eyes snapping open and his body lurching upright as he looked around in a panic. "Get away--(Y/N)? What... What am I doing here? Where am I?" he stammered, slumping back onto the floor with a wince as he continued to scan his surroundings in confusion.

"You're in my bedroom, Parker, and I don't know why. You showed up covered in blood and begging for help." you grumbled in annoyance. "You need to go. It's almost morning."

He blinked in surprise, glancing out your window to see the early hints of dawn on the horizon. "I, uh, I'm... I'm sorry. I don't remember coming here." he mumbled, "Woah, did I hurt you? Oh my God, I hurt you, I'm so--"

"This is your blood, Peter." you growled, cutting off his frenzied rambling as he finally caught sight of the red stains all over your body. "Get out."

He stared at you with parted lips, eyes wide with panic and apprehension. "Are you crying?" he finally asked, his voice timid.

It took you a moment to realize that, yes, you were in fact crying. You hadn't realized that the tears were still flowing from your eyes, but as you did the adrenaline wore off and you choked out through a sob, "Get out! Get out of here, Peter!"

Without the adrenaline pumping through your veins to keep you grounded, the emotion of the entire situation caught up to you. All the fear, anguish, guilt, and anxiety--it all washed over you in an instant and you were losing it. But, you were also angry. You were angry with Peter for putting you in that position.

You were angry that he'd show up, barely alive and begging for your help, when he knew somewhat of what you'd been through. He knew, at the very least, that your sister's death was on your hands, and he put you in a position to put another name on that list. Most of all, though, you were angry that already all of your worst fears were thrown in your face.

Peter wasn't your friend, but some part of you wanted him to be, and already you were faced with the prospect of him dying and you being helpless to stop it. Why was the universe so cruel to you? Were you cursed? It was all a sick, twisted joke, and you wanted no part of it.

"(Y/N), what's wrong--"

You cried, "Just, please, go. I'll see you at school, okay? Just go!"

And, after a moment of hesitation, he went. He climbed out of your window from where he watched you for another minute longer, clearly unwilling to leave you alone in such a state. Peter watched wordlessly as you fumbled to close and latch the window, until you shut the curtains and shut him out again.

Peter Parker: i'm so sorry

Peter Parker: please be okay

Peter Parker: i better see you at school tomorrow or i'm coming back to check on you

Peter Parker: or today i guess

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb

[devilishsahbi]

Hello! I saw you're requests open and I was wondering if I could ask for an nsfw request with mammon? I'm a real sucker for soft sweet nsfw stuff so like maybe a confession scenario because Lucifer seems really interested in mc and mammon gets jealous? And sweet sentimental first time together, lots of I love yous lol Only if you want to of course! Thanks!

a/n: this is almost 5k words of like... angst and fluff and then smut. so, i hope you enioy! 💕

different sides of love. mammon x fem! reader

GREED. IT WAS HIS SAVING grace, his addiction, his curse⏤he desired all that the world could give him, wanted nothing more than to have his pockets full of grimm and still not have enough to satisfy his wants and needs. At least, that was what he told himself, until that greed, the pivotal part of his sin, became skewed towards something else.

      His greed now extended towards you. Your smiles, fond hugs even though he pushed you away, the sleepy jokes you'd text him at night, even the barest glance in his direction. All of it. He wanted all of it and more, more than you would ever give him, because he desired more than just kind words and sweet reassurances from you.

       He wanted your love.

       For him, the words would never come. He expressed it in other ways, as often as he could, even if you didn't notice or know it was him. A little extra grimm in your wallet; some food hidden from Beel during his kitchen raids; text messages late at night when you couldn't sleep through the devildom storms, even when he was dog tired and unable to keep his eyes open; and when you were awake writing essays, the faintest glow of your pact mark upon your hip even if you didn't see it.

    Mammon could feel it, sometimes, if he tried hard enough, when you traced it with your fingers. Felt your touch like a hot, iron brand, because while he had the ability to stop it, to not get feedback from the magic that bound you, he didn't want to. It both tortured him and pleased him to know that you acknowledged the mark at all, even if it was absentmindedly touching it out of habit.

      So when Lucifer stepped in and changed made his interest in you known, it pissed him off. All in the span of a week, the most powerful of them had shifted gears the moment he sensed competition and had made it a point to draw your attention to him, to engorge his pride as the eldest⏤and the eldest got everything he wanted. Power. Prestige. Fear.

        At dinner, when Mammon's boiling point reached a peak, Lucifer made his final move. It was as Asmodeus was lecturing Beel on getting oil in his pores and everyone else was listening to the conversation, laughing, that he spoke up. Mammon could make out the words, make out what was being said.

         Lucifer had offered you a night in his room.

       He didn't even wait to hear your answer. He was so wrapped up in trying not to snap⏤he had the most control out of all of them, damn it, and he wouldn't let his jealousy and greed stop that⏤that he got up out of his chair and left the house without even saying a word. Left his D.D.D, wallet, and keys on the belfry, and slammed the door behind him.

         He hadn't even stopped to listen to you say,"No."

       You waited for Mammon to return, even after everyone else retired to bed. You deliberately ignored the suggestive brow raise that Lucifer gave you as he big you goodnight, nervously clutching Mammon's D.D.D in your hands and watching the door nervously. You were too worried to even think about that now, not even what it meant.

       You tried desperately to contact him through your pact, but he was either ignoring you or had cut off the connection somehow. As far as you knew, he had never cut the connection before⏤Satan had told you that Mammon almost always kept his pact marks with the witches closed, but exclusively left yours open for use. And now it was closed or entirely useless.

       The clock hand ticked past eleven, twelve, and approached one without Mammon giving even the slightest sign of showing back up. You would normally text him by now, but he had left his D.D.D and wallet, and it was raining so hard outside that your gut clenched painfully at the thought of him walking in the rain without even a way to call for help.

        It wasn't like he would call you, though. He never did, even if it was clear he needed it; his brothers were cruel, even if it wasn't completely obvious to any of them that they were. They always thought the worst of him, even though he thought the best of them always. You saw it in his easy submissiveness, the carefully orchestrated plans to get them to interact with him even if it was in anger. You didn't understand why he would go to such lengths to earn even the slightest of attentions from his brothers; you had tried desperately to offer him that kind of affection, but he pushed you away every time, like it wasn't what he wanted.

        You had no clue what to do anymore.

      When it became clear that you were sitting up for nothing, you went upstairs to take a shower. A hot one, one that you would regret later when your nerves were screaming at you to stop and turn down the heat, but you needed something to take your mind off of Mammon and the insane need to go outside in the storm and find him. A shower was the best way to do that.

        As you got the water running and set out your favorite pajama set, you took the time to look at the pact mark sitting proudly on your hip⏤perhaps greedily, you second guessed. It devoured the expanse of your pelvic bone, diving down the curve of your hip to lick at the start of your thigh, curling into the valley between hip and leg. It was a startling golden yellow, more vibrant than a tattoo, and held more heat than the rest of your body. Your other pact marks never felt like Mammon's; they were cut off, blocked, and nearly transparent on your skin. You never asked them why.

       And, as odd as it sounded, you felt it was too personal to even try to.

     You stayed in the shower for a good while, waiting until your fingers pruned and all of the worry had seeped out of your body. But the moment you stepped out of the shower and pulled your nightclothes on, your thoughts went straight back to Mammon, worrying⏤what if he had gotten called by one of those witches? What if he had gotten trapped in town?

       On the way back to your room, you peeked inside Mammon's bedroom. It was dark, still, and not a thing had been moved, from what you could tell. So you shut it, gently, and padded down to your door and slipped inside before any of the other brothers could bother you. You didn't know if you could deal with Asmo's teasing or Lucifer's suggestions right now without blowing up and going to Purgatory Hall, or chasing after Mammon.

       Flicking the light on with an angry sigh, you tore the towel off of your head and looked towards your desk for your D.D.D⏤and froze.

        There, with his elbows propped on his knees and head bowed, was Mammon. Rain water dripped from his hair and landed in solid droplets on the carpet floor; his jacket had been abandoned, his white t-shirt nearly transparent and clinging to his lean frame; he was thoroughly soaked to the bone, and yet he wasn't even shivering like you would if you had stepped outside. Steam from his abnormal body temperature evaporating the water curled into the air; your room felt half like a sauna.

       "Mammon?" You breathed, rushing over to him in relief. He didn't move or acknowledge you as you gripped his shoulders and pushed him back to look at his face. "Oh, Mammon…"

       He looked like he had been sent through the wringer and back. A fresh bruise was blooming on his jaw, already fading rapidly with his healing. He had several scratches on his cheek and near his eye. His lip looked to have been busted open several times, the wound not quite healing completely. All of the scrapes and cuts were dirty, hindering his power to some extent⏤or he was holding back, as usual, because he felt he deserved it.

         Mammon had gone looking for a fight and, clearly, had found one. Several, by the looks of it.

      With shaking fingers, you tipped his head back and examined the scrapes more thoroughly by your lamp. Traced the skin with a pained grimace. "Mammon, what happened to you?"

        He didn't answer. You didn't know if you wanted to hear one.

       "Let's get these cleaned up, okay? But get out of those wet clothes, please. I'm sure you have a pair of sweatpants in here from that heatwave last week."

        When you moved away from him and turned your back to rifle through your closet to find the first aid kit⏤you had invested quite heavily in it after realizing how prone you were to "accidents" with the brothers⏤you heard the sound of wet clothes being peeled off and dropped to the floor. It took everything you had in you not to imagine the way the fabric parted from his skin, glistening in the light and beads of water tracking down his neck from his hair.

       You tore open a few packs of alcohol wipes and bandaids, listening to him shuffle from your chair to your bed. He let out a faint groan as he sat down, the springs shifting and popping underneath, and you winced at the thought of him hurting. He probably was in some pain, if he had gotten into as many fights as you thought he had.

      When you were sure he had made himself at least partially decent, you turned around and made a pointed effort not to let your eyes sink directly to the indentations of his hips or the faint dusting of pale hair that vanished into the sweatpants.

         With all of your supplies on the bed beside him, you nudged yourself between his legs and moved his face up where you could clean the wounds out properly. He didn't even fight you as you moved his head around, hands coming up to rest lightly on the sides of your legs when you were close enough that your body was a hair's breath away from touching his.

        Something was seriously up with him, but you didn't even know where to start.

       "These look awful," was all you could say as you picked up an alcohol wipe and began cleaning the outside of the wounds. Gravel and dirt came away on the cloth. His eyebrows furrowed at the sting, but that was all of the reaction you got. A normal Mammon would be milking it for all it was worth; but instead, he was completely, utterly silent. "I hope whoever did this is crying in a back alleyway, just so you know."

        His lip quirked. Just a bit.

       When you were done with the scratches and the deep gash near his eyebrow, you moved on to the gastly split in his lip. When you ran the alcohol wipe over it, it bled anew, aggravated by the sudden movement. You dabbed at it carefully after that, unaware as Mammon carefully began following the curls of his pact mark peeking out of your pajama shorts.

        "Ya didn't have to do that," he whispered when you were finished. His voice was completely hoarse, as if he had been yelling at the top of his lungs for the past three hours, when he spoke. "I could'a done it myself."

       "You could have, but you were already here." You tossed the bloody wipes in the trash can beside your bed, then settled your hands on his shoulders. The skin was cold from the rain, but underneath you felt the demonic heat surging just under the surface. You half expected him to stutter out an objection and shove you away. It didn't happen. "And… I wanted to make sure you were okay."

        "Wha' for?" Mammon sneered in reply. His lip cracked open and a thin line of blood ran down his chin. "Wasn't like anyone else was worried. Luci never is."

       "Lucifer?" You inquired, feeling his fingers tighten on your legs as you uttered the name. The controlled bunching of muscles against the pads of your fingers, moving as he stiffened up. "What does he have to do with this?"

      Mammon snorted. Whoever this was, you weren't familiar with them; the scummy second born had vanished. In his place was this raw, angry man who had no idea what to do with his anger except put it out on someone else.

        "When does he not?" He huffed. His breath ruffled the slowly drying strands of hair near your collarbone. "He's got everything ta do with this. I could've killed him, then. But I did'n. I had to leave. Do somethin'."

       "What…? What did he…?" Your thoughts drew back to dinner; at what Lucifer had asked you. Offered you, since it was your decision. You had told him no, but Mammon had stormed out before that. It had been odd, but Asmo had assured you it happened all the time… But now, you had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you it was for a good reason. "Oh."

        "Uh-huh." Mammon pushed you away then, gently, and got to his feet. His eyes were fixated on the door. "I'm gonna go ta bed. 'Night."

        "W-wait!" You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back; or tried to, anyways. He stopped, half turned his head to you to listen. "I didn't… You just… You left before I answered. I told him no."

        He laughed, sarcastic and sharp. "Sure you did."

       "I did. I mean, I really did tell him no." You watched the muscle in his jaw tic. "You really worried me, Mammon, leaving like that. I thought something bad had happened to you…"

       "Is tha' all that stopped ya?" His voice was painfully soft. "From tellin' him yes? Me leavin'?"

        Your stomach rolled. You hadn't intended on telling him like this, but there was no other option. You could let him leave, let him hate both you and Lucifer forever; or, you could tell him that you loved him, and erase that hard frown on his face.

        It was obvious what you chose.

        "Mammon." You approached him carefully, releasing his wrist the closer you got to him. You stood toe to toe with him, him a little taller than you were, and reached up to hold his face in your palms. His expression didn't change, but you felt him tensing, felt his entire body shift at the touch. He looked so sad, angry, and fatally jealous all at once that it made your heart hurt to even look at him. "I told Lucifer no because I don't love him. I love you⏤the great Mammon, avatar of greed, the scummy second born. Not him. Just you."

        And before he could register your words, you rose up on your toes and kissed him. You were gentle, mindful of his split lip, and felt the slow pull of his face turn into shock.

       You pulled away, just so you could meet his gaze, noses brushing. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and a faint blush had crept up his cheeks. He suddenly felt far too warm, the rain completely evaporating off of him in wispy curls. You watched him swallow, his throat working around a knot.

        "It's okay if you don't feel the same," you whispered, reluctance in your tone as you lowered yourself to your heels. Your hands dropped from his face to rest lightly on his chest. "I didn't know what I was⏤"

       Your breath left your lungs when you were scooped up, pressed so close to him that you felt every muscle against your body flex, his body heat sinking through the flimsy silk pajamas you wore. His lips pressed brutally against yours, hard and searching, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

        You pulled away, desperate for air. He chased your lips before you could take a breath, claiming them once more, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. You tasted blood, but it wasn't yours; it was oddly sweet, blooming from his split lip. He didn't seem to mind, tongue swiping against the part of your mouth deliciously.

       Mammon shifted your weight abruptly, bringing you up by your legs to position you higher. Your locked your ankles around his waist, fearful of falling on the floor, and his hands snuck up the backs of your thighs and under the silk of your pajama shorts, gripping the flesh in a bruising hold.

       "Mammon," you gasped when he released your lips, dragging his mouth down the side of your cheek to press kisses to the hollow of your throat. "I don't… Are you s-sure?"

        "Sure o' what?" His voice was rough, grainy with lust when he pulled back from your neck. You watched as his eyes, normally a brilliant cerulean blue, darkened when witnessing the flush of your face, the swell of your lips. He held your weight with an arm under your legs, the other coming up to brush your lips with his thumb.

         "Of… this." You swallowed deeply when he moved his hand down to cup the side of your neck, fingers hovering over the fluttering pulse of your artery. "Me. I'm just a human. You even said so yourself⏤"

       "I lied." He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. His entire body relaxed, as if that anger and tension and jealousy had been drained out of him on one fell swoop. "You ain't just any human. You're my human. Got it?"

       That was as close to a confession as you were going to get. The honesty in his eyes was overpowering; the scarlet flush of his cheeks hot underneath your questing fingers; even his heartbeat told you all that you needed to know.

       He meant it.

      "Got it," you whispered faintly. He grinned then, a flash of teeth, and began walking towards your bed. "What…?"

       Mammon dropped you on the bed like a dead weight. The back of your head hit one of your softest pillows and you squirmed to get comfortable as he parted your legs and moved himself between them, placing his hands on either side of your face.

       You stilled, a deer in headlights as you met his predatory gaze with your own. His pupils had shrunk into narrow slits, much like his demon form's when he was irritated. But then he seemed to calm down, his aggression softening, his pupils returning back to normal. His fists relaxed on either side of your head.

        "Sorry," he croaked, leaning down and burying his face in the curve of your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered closed as he placed kisses upon the skin there. "Almost lost it there. Figured ya didn't wanna deal with that right now."

        "You mean you almost shifted?" You inquired, humming pleasantly underneath his attentions. He was placing hickeys wherever he could reach, moving his hands to sneak up your shirt and take a firm hold of your hips. "Mammon?"

        "Mmf. Yeah." The pale haired demon shifted between your legs, but this time you clearly felt his arousal thigh, hot and pressing against the sweatpants he wore. He moved again, this time hissing right in your ear when he pressed firmly against your heat, the silk shorts and underwear already damp. "Shit, [Name]. Shit. I ain't gonna last long like this."

        You had half a mind to tell him, desperate for friction he wasn't giving you, to just go for it raw. But he seemed to have other plans in mind, shimmying down your body. You whimpered at the loss of contact, attempting to rub your thighs together, but his hands came down on your knees and spread them apart.

        "Uh-uh." Mammon hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pajama pants and panties, dragging them down and off of your body. You gasped at the feel of cool air  between your legs, automatically attempting to close them again, but Mammon nudged them back open and settled between them. "There. Look at ya, all wet and ready ready for me."

        "Mammon…" you whined. You fisted your hands in the pillow beneath your head.

       "Are ya still sure?" When you looked down between your legs, at his face, he looked hesitant. Unsure. His fingers ghosted around your knees but never went farther. Insecurity was creeping in and you cursed his brothers for making him this way; you were absolutely certain that, before they had fallen, he hadn't been like this. But then he wouldn't have been Mammon. "I, uh, don't wanna force ya into somethin' ya don't want."

       You smiled reassuringly and sat up, moving your hands to cradle his face once more. He leaned into the kiss you offered him, hands sinking into the bend of your hips. You pulled back, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs. The scratches and gashes had already healed. "I'm sure, Mammon. I've wanted this for… a while now. If you're having second thoughts…"

        "No." It was a growl; but he almost immediately became a little embarassed by it. He ran his hands up your back and fiddled with the clasp of your bra. "No. I'm not havin' second thoughts. I'd be stupid if I did."

       You pulled your shirt off when he had managed to unhook your bra, tossing both items somewhere on the floor. You then reached for him again, smattering kisses all over his face. You felt his skin grow hotter under the affection, felt him press as close as he could in the position he was in. "Pants off. I feel way underdressed."

        He snickered, fully back to himself, and wormed out of the sweatpants, kicking them off on the floor. He didn't give you time to admire him in his full glory, lit with the gentle light of your lamp, and got on his knees, dragging you into his lap.

       You felt him⏤all of him⏤pressing against you, as close as a second skin, unnaturally warm and smooth. He didn't move to kiss you and instead let you thread your fingers through his hair, staring at your face with adoring eyes.

     If he had been anyone else, they would have told you they loved you. What came out of his mouth as he moved in to rest his forehead on your shoulder, kissing your collarbone, was far better than any simple 'I love you'.

       "My human," he breathed. He rolled his hips against you, devouring the sharp inhale you took at the sudden friction. "No one else's."

        "No one else's," you agreed, a cracked moan passing your lips when he rolled against you once more, following a deep, hard rhythm that you had no doubt he would be mimicking inside you in short order. "I love you, Mammon. I really, really do."

       He grunted into your shoulder, unwilling to give up the dry thrusts he was using to maintain his sanity. You felt his acknowledgement of the words in the gooseflesh rising all over his body. You smothered a loud cry into his neck when one particular upward roll of his hips had the head of his cock pressing sweetly into you. Just for an instant, and then it was gone, with him mumbling,"Shit. Up."

       You lifted your hips obediently, following the urging of his hand on your hip. He slipped his free fingers into you, groaning against your breasts when you unintentionally dug your fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.

        A few strokes and they were gone, leaving you nearly irate with need. You squirmed, close to reaching down and stimulating yourself, but he batted your hand away and positioned himself at your entrance.

        "Gonna be a tight squeeze," he whispered against your breast,"but I doubt ya have the patience for anythin' else."

       "You're not wrong," you whispered, words muffled by a moan as he finally sank inside you. It was most definitely a tight squeeze; the bare thrusts he had given you before weren't indicative of his size in the least. You gripped his shoulders, half in pain half in pleasure as you lowered yourself at your own pace, eyes watering dangerously⏤with happy tears, you noted, feeling the antsy flutter of your heart.

        He rubbed your back and let out sharp exhales the more of him you took in. When you finally hit the hilt, hips flush against his, he locked his arms around you and whispered, strained,"Don't. Move. Please."

       You froze in place. Listened to him breathe deep, not just because of the threat of him orgasming right then and there, but because you felt his body temperature skyrocket. Felt the bristling of his back as his wings threatened to tear through his human form. Felt heat against your cheek where his horns would be.

       "Mammon?" You asked quietly, concerned. "Are you alright?"

        Mammon took a few deep, calming breaths, before placing a kiss on your neck. "Yep. Just a minute. Gotta… shit, hold on."

        And you were falling onto your back, Mammon pushing past what you thought you had already taken, and sitting far more deeply within you than you had expected. Your mouth popped open at the sweet burn of being stretched, turning into a moan when he pulled out and sunk back inside.

       "Better," he mumbled to himself, reaching up and lacing his fingers with yours. Your fingers tightened against his as he repeated the motion, rolling his hips and teasing you relentlessly. "You alright?"

        "Perfect." You locked your ankles somewhere above his tailbone and leaned up, catching him in a deep kiss. He pressed you back down, unconcerned as his weight bore down, and ran his tongue over your bottom lip. You nipped at the sore scab on his bottom lip before allowing his tongue to move past your mouth, swiping against yours almost lovingly.

       Then, he began to move. Your legs clamped tight against his hips, moving with each thrust he gave you, deep and pointed and ramming against the sweet spot every time. Every rock of his hips was solid, measured, and had you to the brink of tears once more.

      He broke from the kiss and buried his face in your neck, panting hard. You could already feel the pressure behind your navel building, curling into a feeling that you couldn't ignore. You managed to bury your scream in your pillow just seconds before it came, teeth boring down on the fabric as your orgasm rocked through you like an earthquake.

        Mammon continued on, this time a little less controlled, chasing his own release as you rode out yours, chanting your name desperately. You felt yourself clamp down on him, arousal building once more at the desperation in his voice, and just as he reached his peak, you heard the whoosh of wings, felt the swelling inside you reach a head, and teeth sink down into your shoulder.

         He came hard, slamming himself back inside you with one final thrust, every muscle in his body as tight as a strung wire. His hands tightened against yours with enough force that you almost were sure he would break your fingers in half.

      All at once, he relaxed against you, wings stretched pleasantly into the air. You giggled tiredly and touched one, startled when he twitched inside you.

      Mammon leaned back and pushed up onto his hands, meeting your amused gaze with an almost horrified and bewildered look. "I couldn't stop it."

       "I know." You laughed and slung an arm around his neck, dragging him down into a sloppy kiss. "You bit me, though."

       "Yeah." He sounded sheepish now, but you detected a smug undercurrent as he reached up and traced the brand new mark on your shoulder. Take that, Lucifer. You'd notice it in the morning and, hopefully, not beat him into next week for it. "Sorry 'bout that."

       "Mm. It's fine." You sighed when he pulled out of you and tugged his sweatpants back on. His wings and horns vanished like they had never been there. "What are you doing?"

        "I was goin' back to my room." Mammon blinked at you as if it was obvious. "Why?"

       "I wanted you to stay." You rolled over and patted the open spot beside you. "Just for tonight, if you're uncomfortable with that⏤"

        "Hell no, move over for the great Mammon!"

fin.

[madlymiho]

Participating to the wonderful @nakunakunomi​‘s event! Congratulations again for the milestone, it’s always something! But you deserve it for sure! 🥰

“i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”  

random word to include: skilled

I decided to pick a Zoro x Reader scenario for this one! Gender neutral is applied here, so the reader is qualified as “you”

words: 1800

( read after the cut )

Those things are never easy, he thinks, a firm hand gripping his bottle of booze with a certain strength, his only valid eye staring at the raging waves of the ocean. Another day stuck in the middle of nowhere, the tempest sending the Sunny Go far from any kind of shelter. The everlasting pitching of the boat has been hard to handle for some of the Straw Hat, and the general atmosphere has been more than tensed for a few days. They love each other so much, but it’s not always easy to compose with the various characters and behaviors onboard, especially when they have been unlucky for a week now, the tempest far from being done. If Nami remains the most skilled and capable navigator in the world, Zoro believes that her tensed features and her incapacity to drag them out of the hurricane is proof of the violence of the elements in this particular part of the world. Of course Luffy is thrilled by the adventure, and the feeling is somehow shared by everyone onboard, but all of them now wish to reach an island to have some proper rest. Even Zoro finds it hard to have a nap in these conditions, often awakened because he fell from his bed. Training also became quite impossible, and despite his best efforts to remain sociable and friendly, sometimes, his words are turning into something harsher than usual. 

Of course, he didn’t mean to hurt you tonight. He thought you would understand that it was just joking, but he saw the look in your eyes - and he felt that slap from Nami. What he believed to be genuine and friendly has been nothing but a catastrophe, and now that he’s facing the ocean, gusts of wind fondling his green hair intensely, he definitely feels miserable. He doesn’t know why he always has to act so meaningly with you, it’s a sensation he can’t fully explain. Maybe it’s also increased by the fact they are all trapped here for a week, but if Zoro is honest with himself, this kind of situation has already happened in the past, and he never had talked to someone the way he did with you tonight. Another bitter sigh escapes his throat while he presses the neck of the bottle against his lips, droplets of the transparent liquid disappearing into the sea. Life is more complicated than expected since you’re among the Straw Hats, and this is something concerning. He never had difficulties accepting a new member, but when it came to you, all of his instincts yelled at him to send you away. Your presence is unbearable since day one, and it’s not the same as his squabbles with Sanji. Something profoundly different, changing a side of him he wasn’t ever aware of. Bullshit, for him… Yet the feeling wouldn’t fade. 

“Don’t you think you owe me apologies?” A voice calls behind his back, resulting in Zoro tightening his fingers on the bottle of alcohol. He doesn’t manage to hide the tension within his muscles. 

He hears footsteps on the wooden deck heading in his direction, louder than the wind yelling around them, while he eventually understands that you’re now by his side. He clicks his tongue impatiently, and takes another sip on his bottle. 

“It was just a joke, Name, if you take it so personally, I can’t help you with that.” He answers, his voice as cold as the rain falling from the sky. 

God he’s such a jerk, he knows it. But he wants you to go away and leave him alone. He believes it would be enough to hurt you and force you to abandon the idea to have a conversation with him right now. Because deep down, having a conversation could expose his deepest emotions, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to confess whatever he’s feeling for you. 

“Why are you like this?” You eventually ask, fingers clenched on the barrier of the Sunny. “Why are you always like this with me?” 

The question leaves your lips before you could control it, Zoro immediately turning his head to have a look on your face. You seem miserable. Of course you don’t understand ; he doesn’t either. He wishes he had an explanation, but his mind only leads him to directions he doesn’t want to explore. He doesn’t want to feel his heartbeat increases whenever you’re around. He doesn’t want to have that wrench within his guts whenever you’re talking to someone else. You’re the one responsible of his own misery, and he doesn’t believe he should make the task easy for you. 

“Because you don’t belong here.” He snaps again, his voice emphazed with the loud thunder over your heads. You shiver, shocked, but Zoro doesn’t take it back. “You should leave.” 

He wants to slap himself for pronouncing those terrible words, the two of you facing each other with an intensity he has never seen before. He looks at the rain falling all over your hair, dripping on your features, probably hiding the tears running down your cheeks. Your expression is more than heartbreaking ; something between sorrow and rage, and he feels profoundly despicable at this particular moment. He anticipates a new slap, something fair he would have earned with his miserable statement, or a burst of deserved violence coming from you. He wants you to hit him, to force him to understand that he has been too far with you, but your silence is the most terrible pain he has to experience. And your eyes. He handles your stare but it pierces him like a spear.

“I have all the rights to be on this ship.” You eventually answer to his cruel words, taking a step forward, your eyes gleaming with a certain wrath. “All the rights to be a member of the crew! How can you be such a jerk? Luffy wouldn’t have recruited me if I wasn’t wanted in the first place! Everyone on the Sunny is okay with that! So why?! Why are you like this with me?” 

Zoro clenches his jaw, unable to find the proper words now. He expected you to run away, because it’s the easiest answer, yet in front of your determination, he finds himself speechless. He raises his bottle back to his lips, but before he can appreciate the bitter taste of the alcohol, your hand crashes on the precious jar, throwing the more than needed liquid into the depths of the ocean. As he widens his valid eye, Zoro quickly catches your wrist. 

“Oï!” He growls impatiently. “What are you doing?!” 

“Answer me!” You snap, voice breaking at the end of your plea. 

With the rain, you believe it’s easy for you to escape his grip, pulling on your wrist because now you want to go away. Zoro feels it. This time it’s entirely different ; this argument could be the end of everything. A part of him wishes that it would be the final answer to his own torment, but on the other side, right now, he doesn’t want to let you go. He doesn’t want to be a coward anymore. So he holds you still, fingers digging in the skin of your wrist to maintain you there. He’s probably harming you, but he has no control over his emotions at the moment. 

“You’re hurting me!” You gasp, wiggling on your legs for him to stop. “Let go!” 

“I’m sorry!” 

His voice has been so loud that you immediately stop struggling, eyes focused on his features. He looks so different than usual… unsettled, and weak. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an asshole with you…,” he mutters one more time, as he loses his grip on your wrist. You instantly pull it against your chest, massaging the hurt skin. “I have no excuse…”

You frown, forearm still plastered against your body, while you try your best to understand this sudden statement. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

He sighs because of course you don’t. He grips the barrier of the Sunny, and stares at you right in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, for everything, for all the words I said to you. The truth is, I’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.”

For once, the words came smoothly, as if the struggle he has been living for months is now finally over. There’s nothing else coming from his mouth right now, the heavy rain and the powerful wind escorting this moment with their chaotic music. Ironic, after all… Everything has been chaotic with you since day one. He notices the incomprehension in your irises, looking for a taunt, something, anything familiar. He witnesses your body tremble under the revelation, your expression shifting into something entirely different. You definitely look like a lost puppy right now, and Zoro strongly hopes that he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. 

“I don’t - ” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He doesn’t want to waste anymore time, as he takes a step forward, one hand rolled around your waist, while the other one finds its place on your nape. He pulls you against his chest, crashing his mouth on yours, because apparently, words and statements aren’t working anymore. There, lips sealed for the very first time, Zoro is able to offer you the real intensity of his own desire, until you eventually surrender to the plea. As you tilt your head, he feels your fingers coming up to disappear in his green locks, both of your bodies even more flushed than before. After a moment, he even dares to open his mouth, the tip of his tongue asking for permission, fondling your own lips with that everlasting lack of gentleness which is definitely typical when it comes to this swordsman. You indulge him, both of your tongue meeting as well, your breathing heavier than before, until you eventually have to part to seek for some fresh air.

“You… So you…” You begin to stutter, unable to escape his grip. 

“Don’t you fucking say another word, you’ll ruin this.” He groans impatiently, despite the smirk plastered on his lips, before he steals another kiss, then another one, the both of you forgetting the raging elements surrounding you, unaware of the curious stares coming from the kitchen’s windows, and Nami collecting her money after they have all bet (except Luffy who doesn’t understand what’s going on) Zoro wouldn’t confess before months. 

[notspazztrapavacado]

'Flu-shot Fiasco'

Dr. Clef x they/them! scp! reader

(This AU belongs to supercasey, I'm hoping I'm understanding it right)

It had been nearly twenty-two years they'd been stuck in this place, saved from the streets as a young teen the first time they had died. Nothing was really special about them save for the fact they regenerated at a supernatural rate and was not stopped from it by death, but it was worth noting that every time they'd been put with a family, the general lack of self preservation made them too weak stomache to keep them and gave them back. 

It's not all bad, though, this place was kind to them. It was like an animal rescue center and a hospital and an orphanage had some kind of weird hybrid child center. Simply put: It was home. 

Right now, however, they were clinging to the ceiling fan in their basic human enclosure for dear life, dread pooling in the pit of their stomach as the small team of researchers beneath them looked on.

"(Y/N) it's time for your flu shot." Kondraki was not having this at all, not today. 

"No! Do what you with me, put me through a meat grinder, dip me in acid, but do not come anywhere NEAR me with a needle!" They shouted down at them and he sighed, facepalming as he heard the answer he'd gotten every year.

"I expected better of you." Gears sighed and Iceberg crossed his arms.

"You're 34, can't you act like it once?" Iceberg huffed his point in this.

"Technically, I'm 25." They noted the age they stopped at, regeneration covering the loss of cells and giving them the look of a much younger individual. 

"Still an adult. Now get down." Iceberg argued. (Y/n) only scrunched up their nose at him and stuck their tongue out.

"Bright. You're up." Kondraki motioned to Dr. Bright, who looked very pleased he got the chance to do what he wanted here.

"Haha, watch this." He strode over to the doorway and flipped one of the two switches next to it, powering the fan on with success. 

(Y/n) remained attached to it, spinning at an increasingly rapid pace until the motion leveled out. They looked on with a mix of amusement and utter disappointment.

"Have you practiced this??" Gears squinted, baffled, but not surprised.

"Only every day of my life!" they cackle maniacally. This was the year they finally won. No shots for (Y/n)!!

"I didn't want to have to do this." Kondraki picked up his walkie-talkie, and Bright flipped the switch for the fan, watching it come to a stop with a certain amount of respect for the art of chaos.

"You won't be reasoned with, you won't be bested, we must resort to cheating." Dr. Bright gave his speech, lips pressed into a firm line in standing his ground. 

"You're not my dad!" They shouted at him.

"I'm old enough to be!" he shouted back.

"Clef, (Y/n) is stuck to the ceiling this year." Kondraki spoke into the small, boxy device. It gave a distorted, sharp sound.

"Got tired of the kitchen table gambit?" Clef's voice came through almost clearly.

"We took the handcuffs away last week to prepare for that. I don't think we should have." He was more than tired.

"I'm already on my way." Clef replied.

"He can't do shit! Watch this!" (Y/n) had managed to get their leg securely over one of the blades, swinging their torso up and successfully laying over two of the five.

"You're lucky we make those out of steel." Iceberg was further unimpressed. 

"You're lucky I'm not as bad as Kain with his shots." They argued back.

"We can sedate Kain, you're just awful!" Iceberg exclaimed loudly.

"Have no fear, Clef is here!" The ukulele man strummed a couple notes before tossing the instrument onto their couch and cracking his knuckles.

"Good. I'm going to go get coffee. When you get them down, the shot is on their kitchen counter." Kondraki left with Bright tagging along to bother him.

"I will be back shortly to help with the shot. I promised to walk Iceberg home." Gears had his arm looped with Iceberg's, who looked happy with the arrangement.

"Just you'n me, sweetheart." he looked up at his partner in crime, feeling cocky.

"I'm gonna raid your fridge." He immediately turned and went right into the kitchen, earning a great bit of objection.

"What? No! Get outta there!" they shouted.

"Come stop me." He stuck his tongue out at them, matching their childish game.

"No way!" They stayed stubborn.

"Then the price of redemption for your crimes is your fruit snacks." He stated.

"Haha! Ate them this morning." (Y/n) felt triumphant and Clef pouted.

"Damn. I didn't think you're impulse control had gotten that out of whack." he said.

"You'd be surprised how bad my impulse control can be." They boasted.

"You leave me no choice." He grabbed a kitchen chair and walked into the living area with it, earning a smug grin.

"What're you gonna do with that, shorty? Reach the top shelf?" They mocked.

"Imma fucking get you 's what imma do." He grumbled, irritated at the nickname, and clambered on top of the wooden chair.

"You'll never reach me." they mused.

"Watch this." He eyed the fan like a cat, his parkor legacy would begin here, he's the greatest jumper to walk the face of the earth, he's-

His internal monologue of a pep talk was cut short when he wobbled.

"Yep. Not doing that." he climbed off, instead grabbing the multi step stool they had in the closet beside the door.

"I hate this thing." He set it out with more effort than one should ever have to use, the stool old and rusted at the ends.

Less than gracefully, he started to ascend, making it most of the way up.

"I feel so bad for you right now. I jumped up here." They chuckled spitefully.

"Not everyone was born with fabulous legs and the ability to gain superpowers once a year at flu season." he grabbed the fan, finally, and they applauded him.

"Great. You're mostly here." they snickered mischievously as he attempted a pull up. 

He failed that pull up terribly. 

Nearly sent plummeting, he knocked over the stool and yelped when he was left to dangle from the metal blade.

"I didn't wanna go out like this!" he yelled.

"I don't want the shot." They retorted. 

"You win! You win! Help me, please!" He conceded defeat and, in seconds, he was grabbed by his shirt and hoisted up and over the side of the fan to lay over it and catch his breath.

"(Y/n), you fool." He grinned a sharp toothed, wicked grin. 

"Oh no…" They shrunk back.

"You've trapped yourself!" he exclaimed, drawing the syringe from his pocket.

(Y/n) screeched with horror, scrambling back and falling off the fan thoughtlessly.

"No you DON'T!!!" He threw himself down to them, landing with a loud Thump! on his knees and immediately screaming. 

"Fuck, shit, goddamn, fuckfuckfuckfuck-" his kneecaps were taking their time recovering, his regeneration a much more painful process than theirs.

"You've betrayed me! You deserve your broken knees!" they tried to dislodge themself from his hold.

"I will put this through your eye!" He held the syringe menacingly and they froze.

"..." He was regretting that. 

"You know I'm a liar, why do you even humor the thought I'd do that?" He stuck them in the arm and they whimpered.

"See, not so bad?" he finally removed his thighs from either side of their torso, standing. They only remained rigid.

"It was a joke." he nudged them with his shoe and sighed. 

"It's over now, you want ice cream?" he offered. "Hello?" he waved a hand in front of them, and finally got a response. 

"Aghuuubfvbbfy!!" their whole body convulsed and shuddered a moment before they sat up, looking at him with more pain than he'd ever seen on them.

"I am never going to let you near me with a syringe again." They stated, horrified.

"I still have it. It'd be cruel of me to stick you for fun." he rolled it in his palm.

"But I am rather cruel." He made a sharp noise and elicited another screech from them as they backed into the wall.

"Another joke, jesus christ, calm down." he tossed the used plastic syringe behind him, just letting it land wherever.

"You calm down, I'm gonna be scared from this!" They exclaimed.

"That's what you get for acting like a child." He crossed his arms and nodded.

"If childishness attracts karma, you're really in for it." They argued right back.

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Hotspot Pt.1

Genre: Smut 

Word Count: 1331

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Public humiliation, Edging, Orgasm denial, Spanking, Yangyang's lame Earth sandwich joke

A/N: 

1. Yangyang’s name (揚) has the same pronunciation as “lamb/sheep” (羊) in Mandarin, so y’all would see the word-fuck (X) word-play (O) on this often throughout the fic

2. Been planning to re-upload this fic from my old deleted acc but wanted to extend it and make some changes, yet was clueless before, but then I eventually got inspired, so I decided to release it as part one of something bigger, thanks to this anon for providing me with ideas for part two, and thanks to @wildernessuntothemselves​ for forcing (X) suggesting (O) me to collect the XiaoHenYang aka her TMTM trio

3. It’s almost Xiaojun’s birthday yet I posted Yangyang content, I’m sorry my lovely prince. Anyone who’s thirsty for him can read my month-old upload here

   “Goddamn-f-fuck, please!” Yangyang swears in utter desperation as you suddenly withdraw your hand from his cock, denying his first orgasm. He shifts in the chair in an attempt to grab you, but futile since his hands are tied behind it, as he’s kneeling on the seat facing backward with his ass pushed out, while his legs are forced open wide since both his thighs are secured to the armrests of the chair as well, rendering him into a compromising position.

  “Brats like you don’t deserve to cum.” You state icily before thrashing his sensitive rear with the paddle. "You never want to miss a chance to annoy me with all that endless fussing, don't you?"

  "I don't deserve this punishment with just that Earth sandwich joke...ahh stopppp…" 

  "That lame joke is not the point, you brat." You hiss, tugging his hair, as Yangyang's hard-on jolts at the sudden sensation of pain. "Remember how awfully much you snickered about making a sandwich with my pussy around your dick hmm? Giving me that stupid devilish grin whenever you have one for meals? Even shamelessly bragging about it in front of other members to embarrass the hell out of me? You are just a pathetic horny little lamb…"

  "C-c'mon, it's not that b-bad when you actually like my teasing..." Yangyang gasps in between your relentless spanks in arousal, as you can tell that his second orgasm is nearing.

  "Oh? How you like this sandwich with my hand then?" You smirk as you wrap your hand around his cock again, fingers irregular dancing on the tip yet not pumping him.

  "Ahh-L-like it! Just let me cum goddamn it!" Yangyang's whole body tenses up and curls up as he can't handle the teasing anymore.

  "That's not how you ask for things, bad little lamb." You chastise while giving a slap on his angry red cock, earning a yelp from him.

  “...P-please Mistress let me cum…” Yangyang begs, his proud form finally breaking down.

  “Good try, but not quite.” You smirk, before resuming his spanking again.

  “Ahhh Mistress I’ll be a good little lamb for you...now p-please let me cum…” Yangyang’s voice falters at the denial of his second orgasm.

  “That’s my cute little lamb…” You praise as you peck his now teary cheek, before finally granting him release with your hand, as he lets out a loud moan upon climaxing. 

  “Now you know you shouldn’t be bragging about sandwiches too often.” You embrace Yangyang in your arm while soothing his red flesh with the other, calming the sobbing boy down.

  “You should be more kind to me since you already sin too much torturing me…” Yangyang gazes into you as he forms a cheeky pout, the way how he quickly returns to his usual mischievous self surprising you a little.

  "I am already showing you enough kindness by letting you cum without much teasing." You sneer as you wipe the white tendrils off Yangyang’s gradually limping cock and your hand.

  "Without much teasing? Says someone who literally edged me twice, so fucking bossy." Yangyang retorts while letting out a sigh of relief as you untied his hands behind the chair.

  "I am sure you can take much more than that, usually I would edge you for hours until your bratty mouth can't talk back to me anymore." You imply your annoyance for his endless ripostes, since it's always difficult for your boyfriend to just be grateful for his orgasms instead of being cheeky.

  "Nah you are just sadistic as hell. You are just one cruel cougar who loves my suffering too much." Oblivious of your hint for him to behave, your boyfriend still continues his complaints, redressing himself while smirking at you.

  "Cheeky boys deserve to be disciplined with cruelty, and somehow you like it too much, and love to ask for more by being a nuisance, don't you, my little painslut?" You reply slyly, another punishment for this ungrateful boy beginning to form. 

  "Now that your butt cheeks are rosy hot spots…” You say thoughtfully as you rub his ass teasingly. “...I am gonna give you the taste of real embarrassing punishment. Now give me your phone."

  Yangyang reluctantly hands you his phone. "What for?"

  "Unlock it."

  "No!"

  "Just obey me you brat." You hiss while tugging his hair, forcing him to comply with a wince.

  "Don't worry, I am not gonna post something weird on social media." You reassure him while opening up settings on his phone. "But, everyone will know someone has been a slutty hotspot in heat while connecting to wifi…" You triumphantly smirk as you click "Save" after changing his SSID.

  "'Mistress’ Slutty Lil 🐑🐑'? Hell no that's embarrassing!!" He snatches back his phone in an attempt to undo your act of mischief.

  "Do not ever try to change it." You demand sternly, covering his screen with your palm. "If I catch you disobey me, you will get punished even harder. Understand, Mistress’ slutty little lamb?"

  "Alright…" Yangyang sighs and facepalms, already internally freaking out about how his members will react upon seeing this.

  You smirk in delight as you both leave your makeshift playroom, which is a storage room, to catch up on your normal lives. Yangyang returns to his members as you meet up with other staff to participate in a meeting discussing details of upcoming shootings for the next project.

  Yangyang slouches back to his room but gets caught up with Lucas before he can retreat behind the door.

  "Yo bro, care to explain this?" Lucas holds his screen in front of the younger's face, grinning so knowingly that Yangyang has to fight back every urge to punch him in the face.

  "See no evil." He weakly protests, hoping not to embarrass himself even further, and shuts the door in Lucas' face.

  Thinking he has escaped the ordeal, he doesn't realize how bad things can get until he opens up the WayV group chat. Hendery has posted a screenshot of all the WiFi SSIDs his phone detected and circled the obvious questionable one, and all the other members reacted with either stickers with laughing expressions or words like "Our naughty 🐑  has finally got the taste of his medicine!" or "Y/N'S REALLY MAD LMAO", all of their mockings make Yangyang wants to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

  Red with both embarrassment and resentment, he decides to defy you as his devilish side begins to awake. Since he's never the type to listen well to anyone, then why should he this time? Besides, he feels his body begins to heat up with a familiar tingle again as he thinks about all the pain and degrading words that will be inflicted on him after you find out about his rebel, as he brazenly invites more with more provocative and insolent remarks, then eventually feeling himself dissolving into ascending sting and humiliation that turn into euphoric pleasure soon afterwards…

  Licking his lips at the indecent thoughts, he alters the SSID and waits impatiently for your discovery.

  Ten minutes later, he receives a screenshot from you as well as an angered message from you. "'Mistress’ bossy af 👿'? You fucking brat."

  "Just telling the truth 🤷"

  "You are originally getting 20 paddles on your bare ass, now it's 40."

  "Shouldn't you focus on your meeting first?"

  "IDGAF now. Change it to 'Fuck Lil Slutty🐑  Pls😩' in under a minute or you're getting 80."

  80 spanks? Yangyang ponders. Tho being a painslut he is, he still needs to make sure that he can function normally tomorrow to avoid more unwanted attention. Sighing, he decides to give in to you and finally obeys.

  Sliding off nearly every notification from the uproar in his group chat for this even more humiliating SSID, he feels unexpectedly even more exhilarated at your praising messages that concludes with a specific time and place to meet up for the main course of punishment that he both somewhat fears but also craves.

[sinner-as-saint]

Love Made Me Crazy - 5.

CEO/ Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Part 5 of the Love Made Me Crazy series.

Run-through: It was all strategic; a plan meticulously constructed by you and your business partner; against James Buchanan Barnes. Not to take him down, no. But just to be one step ahead of him in the business world by uncovering his secrets; to learn his ways and hope to be better than him in every way possible. The façade you put up – of being close to him and earning his trust was supposed to be short-lived, most importantly; harmless. But then as always, things got a tad bit more complex when feelings intervened…

Themes throughout the series: ceo!bucky, angst, smut, fluff, somewhat manipulative reader, mob!bucky

a/n: alright, this is it. This is the final part of this series. Thank you for staying till now! (despite the hate this series got in the beginning lmaoooo) I love you guys!  

You stared at him in both disbelief and pain – quite literally.

Your cramps were killing you and you could no longer hold yourself up. But you couldn’t deal with your emotions either so you just stood there, looking uncomfortable.

“Argue with me all you want later. Just come here right now, I know you’re in pain.” He held his hand out.

You tried giving it a thought, but with all the physical and emotional pain, you couldn’t focus on anything so just got under the covers with Bucky and let him hold you. Because God knows you craved his body heat.

Bucky spooned you from behind, pulling your back into his chest and just held you against him. Your body tensed just a little at his touch, but right when you relaxed, he gently slipped his hands under your shirt and rubbed little circles on your tummy – he still remembered how those calmed you down.

It might have been the hormones, or just the tiredness or that you simply couldn’t handle the emotions anymore; so you didn’t even try to hold back the tears as they threatened to fall.

With your back to him, Bucky didn’t realize that you had been crying until a quiet sob shook you entire body.

He didn’t say anything, he just tightened his grip around you and nuzzled your neck. And just like that, it felt like the old Bucky was back; caring, loving and gentle.

“Don’t cry.” He said after a while.

But it didn’t matter what he said. You could only take so much, and the past few weeks have been emotionally and mentally draining.

“You’re so confusing.” You said, sniffling. And you heard him sigh like it was the hundredth time he was hearing that phrase.

“So were you.”

You sighed and wiped your tears and sniffled again. Bucky adjusted your hot water bottle better.

“I said sorry.” You pointed out.

He scoffed but in a playful manner, as though arguing with a child.

“Yeah but you don’t mean it.” he argued back immediately.

You groaned, trying to find the energy to keep going because you refused to let him win this one.

“Think you know everything, don’t you? Why are you still here being nice to me then?” you sounded much less bitter than before.

Now it sounded like a playful banter, like two kids refusing to let the other have the last word.

“Like I said, I’m trying to earn husband points.” He replied, pushing his face further into your neck to a point where his voice sounded slightly muffled.

You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn’t see you.

“Whatever.” You were running out of things to say.

Bucky chuckled and kept his mouth shut this time; letting you win because he knew that despite the pain, you could go on for a long time.

So he just held you to make you feel better. You hissed and squirmed and moved around now and then, when the cramps got too much to handle. But each time he’d rub your tummy or your back, the pain subsided quite a bit.

There was silence between the two of you again, and this time, it was much more comfortable than the last time.

Bucky spoke up after a while.

“Do you want to go see him?” he asked, nuzzling the side of your face as he waited for an answer.

Despite having an idea of who he was talking about, you asked again just to be sure. “Who?”

“Tony.” He replied.

And you almost jumped out of bed again.

“Please tell me you didn’t keep him in some creepy basement. Please Bucky.” you hated the very thought of seeing Tony in a situation like that. He didn’t deserved it.

Bucky chuckled.

“Chill, baby. I didn’t. You want to go see him though?” he asked again. But instead of answering him, you turned around and faced him, glaring at him and his stupid question.

Of course you wanted to see Tony.

-

A few days later, Bucky finally took you to Tony.

Bucky drove on your way there. A similar car to his led the way, and another followed you – his guards. The roads were unfamiliar to you so you spent your time looking out of the window. Meanwhile, Bucky stole quick glances at you.

He didn’t know why he chose to do this now; perhaps it was the look of guilt and pain in your eyes which he couldn’t bear. He couldn’t hurt you even if he tried. So he decided to put an end to your misery.

Meanwhile you were, again, overthinking. It was moments like these which messed you up the most; these calm, mundane moments spent with Bucky. Driving to somewhere, or having breakfast together, or just being in the same room and sharing space without saying a word to each other – when everything was calm and comfortable, to a point where you forgot that you initially weren’t here by choice.

Those were the times when you couldn’t name what you were feeling. Like in a seething cauldron, emotions were just overflowing. Because in those moments, Bucky was not the mob boss whom the world knew, now, as being cold and cruel. Instead, he was just Bucky. Gentle, loving – the Bucky you knew all those months back. The one whose heart you broke, and left him just days before your wedding day because you were too proud to admit that you were wrong.

Guilt is a terrible thing, you concluded.

 “What are you thinking about?” Bucky broke the silence first and briefly looked at you before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Nothing.” You lied, when in reality you were thinking about everything.

Bucky chuckled.

“I know your over thinking face, and you have it on right now. So, don’t lie. Tell me, what are you thinking about?” he asked again, persistent as always.

You sighed and looked down at your lap.

“Why now? Why didn’t you ask if I wanted to see Tony earlier? At this point, you’re either plotting something else or you’re just randomly doing things to mess with me even more.” You finally voiced out your most recent thought.

Bucky was quiet for a while.

“2 years ago when you walked into my life, and stayed for longer than you should have, did you do it because you were plotting something else or were you just messing me with me?”

His question shut you up.

Why did you stay? You asked yourself. You heard the answer somewhere in the back of your mind, but you didn’t pay much attention.

 After driving for a while longer, in silence still, Bucky spoke up and told you that you were here. The guards at the gate let Bucky in without wasting any more time and your eyes widened when you took a good look at the house.

“You kept Tony here?” you asked, looking at the rather spacious house on a private property. As houses go, this was a damn good looking one.

“Better than a dungeon, is it not?” he sassed and stopped the car right in front of the very grand front door. “Go on, he must be waiting for you.” he said, and reached over and opened the door for you.

“Aren’t you coming?” you asked.

Bucky smirked.

“Aww, are you worried about being away from your husband for a little while?” he asked, teasing as though talking to a child. You sighed and rolled your eyes at him. And he chuckled. “I’ll wait outside, I’m sure neither you nor him want me in there.”

He did have a point.

You rushed out of the car and walked up to the door, one of the guards by the door held it open for you and closed it the moment you stepped inside.

You were about to call out for Tony but then you saw him, on the other side of the grand living room. He winked at you and held his arms open and you immediately began tearing up as you ran into his arms.

“Tony!” you exclaimed as you wrapped your arms around him and laid your head on his shoulder and cried like a baby.

You cried bitterly for the first time since this whole thing happened. Tony held you close and allow you to let it all out.

 “Come on now, stop crying kiddo.” He finally got you to stop and ushered you towards the couch in the living room.

You sniffled and wiped your tears away, in desperate need for answers.

“How long has he kept you here?” you asked, worried about Tony, while the latter had a bright smile on his face.

“You mean in this lavish home, with a home theater and a heated pool? I gotta say, your husband sure knows how to spoil his prisoners.” He joked, emphasizing on ‘your husband’ and tilting his head at you while you rolled your eyes and looked away. “He brought me here the day you got married. And honestly, I’m not complaining.”

He finally answered and reached out to touch your head affectionately. You sniffled again and looked down at your lap; ashamed to face him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t say anything other than apologize. Tony was kept here because of you, it was all your fault.

Tony smiled, rather playfully and nodded his head to agree with you.

“Yeah no I agree. This is all your doing, it’s all you. No one else but you. You did this. You put us yourself in this situation.” He spoke, sarcastically as always.

Seeing his humor stayed the same gave you some solace. Even though he was blaming you.

“You’re blaming me too.” You didn’t disagree, you were just upset that you were finally admitting that this whole mess was a chain reaction of something you kick started.

Tony shook his head. “No, not blaming you. Enlightening you.” He corrected you and faced you with his usual comforting smile.

You gave him a confused look, furrowing your brows at him while he shook his head and muttered “kids” under his breath.

“See, I told you to come home so many times. Yet, each time you stayed with him. That wasn’t my doing, that wasn’t the plan. No, that was you. You chose to stay with him.” he explained, and his words all pointed to the one truth you didn’t want to admit.

“But Tony, I stayed so that we could find out more ab-,”

He cut you off quickly.

“No. We had all we needed, and I agree what we did was wrong. But you didn’t stay for anything other than the fact that you had fallen in love with him, kiddo. Always have been and still are. You just… got scared and left, part of it was my fault as well. I should be the one saying sorry.”

You didn’t reply, you just did what you do best – overthinking.

Tony sighed and smiled as he spoke up again. “Don’t you see it? All he did was to make you realize this. You’re the one who’s being stubborn and running from the fact that even you know that you’ve always loved him.” Tony chuckled and shook his head again. “I mean look at what you did, you turned me into a relationship therapist.”

You tried laughing at his joke but all that came out was a sob, and just like that, you were silently crying again.

You cried on Tony’s shoulder again and he did his best to calm you down.

“Still. Why would he buy the company and threaten to hurt mom?” you sniffled and Tony genuinely laughed.

“He didn’t. It’s still yours. He just lied.” Tony’s words made you stop crying and you pulled away from his shoulder and sighed in disbelief.

“So everything was just... just fake papers and empty threats?” realization slowly sunk in and you felt even more terrible.

Tony chuckled. “And you bought it. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t so that same to him. Think of it as karma.”

You wiped your tears away and began thinking over the whole thing again. Out of guilt, or the fear of having to face it and your mistakes, you had just been buying every lie he sold to you.

You were quiet for quite a while and every single memory of the time spent with Bucky resurfaced. The first time you met at the party one night. All the times you and his flirted shamelessly. Your first date, and the last. The time you first stayed over at his place, and how he told you he loved you the next morning, and never wants to lose you.

All the times he let his guard down with you, and let you in easily. All the times he shared his secrets, thinking you were the only one he could trust. All the times you and him spent hours just holding each other, pretending like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Turns out, each day you had just been falling more and more for him; like he was for you.

 “Say something, you’re scaring me.” Tony sassed.

You sighed, and shook your head.

“I just realized something.” You spoke up finally.

Tony chuckled, “Yeah, what?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from the couch and paced around for a little bit. “That I’m fucking stupid.” You finally admitted.

Tony chuckled. “Language kid.”

You sighed, tired of always having to deal with emotions that you tried to keep hidden. You couldn’t do it anymore.

“What do I do now?” you asked, genuinely lost.

“Well, there’s not much left to do. He’s already your husband.” He ended with a wink and you began tearing up again.

You looked at the front door, and then back to Tony who had a smile on his face. “Oh my God, Tony. I’m in love with my husband.” Realization hit you like a truck, and it sent Tony into a fit of laughter. “I should go out there, no?” Tony nodded.

And you rushed outside and searched for him; your husband.

You found him not far from the front door. He was leaning against his car, staring at his phone screen and didn’t notice you walking over to him.

 You stopped right in front of him and stared at him until he shifted his attention to you. “Well that was quick, d-,”

You cut him off by pulling him forward and pressing your lips to his gently. He immediately melted and dropped the cocky façade and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You slid your hands into his hair and deepened the kiss and you felt him smile through the kiss. His mouth moved against yours softly, while his grip tightened around your waist; as though scared you might just disappear.

You tugged on his lower lip as you pulled away to look up at him. Your eyes began watering again once you stared into his deep blue eyes.

“I didn’t lie either.” You said, and he smiled – understanding perfectly what you were referring to.

“Took you long enough to realize that, huh?” as always, he sassed.

“All this just to make me realize that I love you? You’re so dramatic.”

“I wouldn’t be if you weren’t so stubborn. Admit it, you love me since day one.”

You sighed and pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes and just relished the feeling of him being so close to you.

“I missed you.” you confessed and he pulled you in for a hug, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch.

And just when you were about to ask him about it, you heard Tony’s voice yelling from the front door.

“You two, get off my lawn.” He joked and you and Bucky shared a laugh. “Also I like this house, I’m keeping it. Now go home both of you.” he playfully yelled again.

 And you did.

-

You were sure that if Bucky wasn’t driving, he’d start getting handsy in the car itself. And once you got home, it was impossible for both of you to keep your hands off each other.

You ended up in his study since it was closer, and he took you right there on the couch. He undressed you eagerly and pulled you onto his lap.

His hands gripped your waist as he pressed you to his clothed body. You instinctively rolled your hips against his crotch and he playfully pinched your ass as you did. You straddled his thighs, your breasts merely inches away from his lips, he smirked. Slowly, he took of your sensitive buds in his mouth. He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud.

His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. Bucky released your nipple and kissed his way up until he reached your collar bones. He nibbled on your skin and the sweet pain had you whimpering in no time; given you had missed him and his touch so much. One of his hands moved away from your waist and slipped in between your thighs instead.

His knuckles rubbed against your wet folds as he smeared the wetness around, making you moan quietly against his cheek. His beard scratched your skin but you enjoyed every second of it.  

“I missed you so fucking much, baby.” he whispered along your skin as he pushed two fingers into your entrance.

He let out a series of swear words when he took note of how tight you were. You whined when he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He stroked your walls with his two fingers and he soon had you coming undone around his fingers, which were now coated with your arousal.  

Bucky slowly slipped his two fingers out of you and placed them against his lips, sinfully licking them clean; moaning at the taste of you.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed your taste. The sight had you blushing like crazy. You tried controlling your intake of air but just as you regained control over your senses, Bucky flipped the two of you on the couch.

As he was straddling you, you could clearly feel his growing bulge as it rested against your dripping core. The only thing keeping him from fucking you was his clothes. He placed his mouth on yours again. Your lips moved against one another’s perfectly, and he slipped his tongue past your lips instinctively.

His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him.

“You made me all crazy, you know that?” His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot. He messed around with you for a little bit, then lifted off of your body for a quick second; removing his pants and briefs and unbuttoning his shirt in no time.

Bucky climbed back into the couch and hovered over you, stroking his thick length while he did so. Your mouth shamelessly watered at the sight of his body. You had missed him.

“Now who’s staring?” he joked and you smirked and pulled him closer.

He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow the winces which came out of you as he pushed his length into your tight entrance. You slid your hands into his hair again, and tugged on it gently. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you.

“Fuck…” you whined, throwing your head back and moaning as he filled you up entirely. He lifted his head and watched you frowning as his cock stretched you out. He groaned at how well your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him.

“I love you so much.” he whispered against your mouth, before he tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips – rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed.

Your back arched off the surface of the couch and your chest pressed to his.

Bucky’s lips kissed your face; all over. He seemed to be compensating for the sweet pain he was causing you. You hooked your legs around his lean waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him.

“You’re mine.” he spoke in your ear, groaning as you lifted your hips to meet each one of his thrusts.

He pounded into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure.

Your body shook against him, your legs felt numbs as he relentlessly slammed into you. Bucky slid his hand in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit, earning a loud moan out of you.  

As he did so, the pressure at your core became too much to handle. Guess he noticed, as he slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

“Don’t you dare cum yet.” He mumbled against your lips as he sped up into you again; making you cry out as you tried your hardest to do as he asked.

Bucky’s thrusts slowed down, and he finally removed himself from you and flipped you over; making you lie in your stomach and your ass up in the air.

You were still breathless but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. He lifted your hips upwards and bent your knees under you so it was easier for him to fuck you again. He groaned as he slipped into you again. Soon, he was pounding into you all over again – faster than earlier, it was almost animalistic. But you weren’t complaining.

Your body moved against him like a rag doll; you tried meeting each one of his thrusts but you gave up midway because you were too focused on the pleasure his body brought you to be able to focus on something else.

Bucky rocked in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. Tears fell out of your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again.

“Fuck… I missed you so much.” Bucky murmured as he increased his pace; ramming his cock into you mercilessly.

Your thoughts were a mess yet again as you felt your vision becoming blurrier with each passing second. Your squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up.

The sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning – gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him all over again. Bucky came right after you.

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, you were about to collapse on the couch but Bucky held you up just in time and pulled you on his lap again. His sweaty torso pressed against your back, he rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear; his face pushed into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry Buck.” you apologized, sincerely; while panting and worn out in his arms.

He kissed the side of your face repeatedly. “I’m sorry too. I was a total asshole.” He said.

You turned sideways and cupped his face, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on his swollen lips. “I was an even bigger asshole to you though.” You pointed out.

“But I kind of took you away by force and married you, so… think I’m the bigger asshole here.”

“But I broke you.”

“I was cold to you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just let me win, damn it!”

And he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Let’s forget about it. It’s in the past. I don’t care what happened, I just want you.” he confessed and looked you in the eyes while he spoke.

You started tearing up again, but then he tightened his grip around you and pressed you further against his chest.

“I love you, husband.” You said, pushing your face into his chest and hugging him back.

Bucky chuckled.

“I love you too, baby.” he kissed the top of your head. “Will you marry me? Again? Properly this time?” he asked and you smiled and pulled away to look at him with nothing but pure adoration.

“Yes.”

Fin.

--- 

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