#this is anyone who gets kisses by my because my teeth are really sharp and I like biting my lovers lips~

[sweetpupii]

oh, she does both and gets so mean with it too </3

thank god cait's uniform has pockets to hide the pink vibrator remote because she's planning on using it during the whole ceremony. yeah, yeah, guard the stage, look out for any suspicious people and whatever… she's far too focused on the way you fidget with the fabric of your uniform as you look around, squirming a little in a way that makes her look down to hold back a small giggle. not wanting to draw attention to herself.

sneaky little shit, got as far away from you as possible to not hear any complaints.

she just wasn't having it today. no amount of whining and puppy dog eyes you give could get her to back down. hopefully that'll teach you to stop getting on her last nerve at the most inopportune times.

keeping her in bed for longer than necessary because 'you were cold’ on a sunny and nowhere near cold morning, the little touches under her nightgown with those coy eyes that hid your true intentions ( or so you thought because she can read you like an open book by now. ), the gentle kisses and bites on her neck that quickly turned heated and ended up with a couple hickeys that were a pain to cover before arriving at the gala. late.

we're you dumb or did you really think she'd be nice enough to wait until you guys got to her bedroom to turn on the vibrator?

either way, you might regret agreeing to her little idea.

more people are starting to arrive but her duty is to be there and intervene only if something bad happens so she can keep having fun while you pat down people to let them in with a forced, polite smile. you shift on your feet, pretending to adjust the holster at your thigh. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching, but caitlyn knows better.

her thumb grazes the remote in her pocket, toggling the setting up one notch higher. a quick glance in your direction tells her all she needs to know: the way your head dips slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as your hand briefly grips the table for balance. you recover quickly, but not before her eyes catch the faint tremble in your legs.

perfect.

when she finally makes her way over to you, the calm authority in her tone betrays none of her mischief. “I’ll be taking her to assist with another entrance.” she tells the nearby guard, who barely spares a glance before nodding in approval.

her hand is warm and steady on your lower back as she leads you away, her grip firm enough to keep you from protesting. not that you could form a coherent argument right now, not with your mind clouded by the relentless buzzing and caitlyn’s touch.

she is not taking you to the other entrance, she's obviously taking you backstage to an empty room.

immediately closing the door, leaning her body weight against it just in case, pulling out the remote from her pocket to turn it up. the buzzing in between your legs now louder and definitely more overwhelming.

“fuck, cait, I'm sorry—” the quiver in your voice, the way you had to lean onto the desk behind you to hold yourself up while your knees trembled and threatened to give up made something flutter in caitlyn's belly, damn.

“sorry?” she repeats, her tone silky but laced with mockery. she holds up the remote in one hand, her thumb hovering over the button as if she was hesitating. “darling, you’re always sorry. but somehow, you never learn.”

she presses the button, and the buzzing between your legs ramps up another level, sharp and insistent. your breath catches, and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. “cait—caitlyn, please,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, clear desperation.

“you had so much to say earlier this morning,” the enforcer pointed out with a soft laugh, taking a step closer. her free hand reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes. “is my name all you can manage to say now? how funny.”

your thighs clench together in a futile attempt to dull the vibration, but it only makes it worse. heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, as you bite your lip to muffle the whimper threatening to escape. she notices—of course, she does—and leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a rather sloppy kiss.

she wasn't supposed to kiss you, she never does when trying to teach a lesson but she couldn't resist this time... sigh.

“no need to hold back,” she murmurs against your lips, “we’re alone here.”

“i can't...” you manage, your voice breaking. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure inside you.

“yes, you can,” she says firmly, one hand brushes along your side, a grounding touch that only makes the intensity more acute. “you always can.”

she watches you intently, taking in every shudder, every gasp, every tremble of your legs as you struggle to stay upright. her chest swells with satisfaction at the sight of you, undone and helpless under her control.

when your legs finally give out, she catches you effortlessly; pulling you close, stroking your back to let you pant against her shoulder, trailing soft kisses down your jaw as she presses the button to turn the vibrator off…only to start it back at the lowest setting.

“don't look at me like that,” caitlyn whispers, a tiny ( cruel. ) smile playing at her lips as she guides you down to the chair. “you already had your fun in the morning, am I not allowed to do the same?”

[crimsonyoukai]

“Haah, mn.. ow!”

Unromantic (언로맨틱) - by Jung Seokchan

[leaderwonim]

GREEN FLAGS YOUR BF HAS! ENHA HYUNG LINE

pairing. nonidol!enha hyung line x fem!reader

genre. teeth rotting fluff, established relationship

LEE HEESEUNG

never letting your hand touch the door handles and drives you everywhere

“What are you doing?” You say in disbelief as you watch Heeseung practically trip over his own feet to open his passenger car door for you.

“Opening the door for you,” he says breathlessly, letting you settle inside the passenger seat which was already warmed up and decorated in pink, your favorite color. “Can’t let my princess open the door by herself.”

You roll your eyes, blushing heavily even though Heeseung always said things like that.

“Thanks Hee,” you say as soon as he gets comfy in his seat, leaning over to kiss him.

“No problem baby,” he smiles. “Now, where to?”

“The movies! I wanna watch the new Mean Girls.”

Heeseung shakes his head, grinning as he pulled out from the parking lot, one hand on the steering wheel and one on your seat.

PARK JONGSEONG

always cooking and taking care of you

You woke up to the smell of pancakes, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you make your way out to your boyfriend’s apartment living room.

“Smells good Jay,” you say, placing your chin on his shoulder, slightly dozing off. “Whatcha making?”

“Soufflé pancakes and bacon.” He smiles, positioning his head a bit over so he could give your head a small peck.

“You’re the best Jay,” you mumble sleepily, and he can only laugh at your state as he finishes cooking up, letting you lay your body on his.

SIM JAEYUN

always talking and thinking about you

If Layla was a human instead of a dog, she’d probably tell Jake to shut up from how much he was talking about you.

“that’s your mom Layla,” Jake coos to the dog, pointing at you who was currently running to pick up the ball jake had thrown earlier. “and she’s your only mom, I am never dating anyone else.”

You run back to your boyfriend and his dog a few minutes later, breathing heavily. “Here you go Layla girl, here’s your ball!”

and Jake can’t help but watch with heart eyes as he watches you play with his dog, heart leaping as it falls inlove with you over and over again

PARK SUNGHOON

covers pointy edges whenever you’re near, has your picture on the back of his phone

“Hey, is that a Polaroid of Y/N?” Sunghoon’s friend, Seonwoo questions as he flips over Sunghoon’s phone.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon quickly takes his phone back from his friend. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Mhm,” Seonwoo’s eyes drift to you, who was currently making your way over. “There she is.”

“Babe,” Sunghoon says, standing up to wrap an arm around you. His hand automatically comes to rest themselves on the pointy and sharp edge of where you were standing, which only Seonwoo notices.

He raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn’t question it because Sunghoon’s already too occupied with asking about your day. He still keeps his hand there, unconsciously making sure none of your body comes in contact with it.

How sweet, Seonwoo thinks, but how gross at the same time.

[san8ny]

Neck Kisses.

an: Pt I to the ‘kissing series’ I have / Just an insecure Ellie who you reassure

“You’re not even bad looking.” You sigh, scrubbing at the sudsy cooking pot as you glance over to where Ellie pouts on the couch, “If you were, then i’d be ugly too since i’m dating you.”

Ellie huffs. “No you’re not. You’re beautiful, and you damn well know it. Anyone with eyes could see that…” She runs a hand through her hair, frustration clear in her voice.

“And anyone with eyes could see you aren’t unattractive. Since when do you listen to what beerbelly men at dingy bars tell you?” You mutter, confused at why she was suddenly taking shit from some jackasses.

Her eyes roll. “Okay, you’re right. It’s not like people make fun of me for my looks every single day of my life. I’m beautiful, and I don’t see how I could even remotely be considered ugly!” Her words drip with sarcasm, frustration obvious in the way her voice is rising. “It’s not like I have a list of things wrong with me, ranging from my crooked teeth and broken nos—

“and pretty freckles, and equally pretty red hair..”

Her frown deepens as she glowers at you. “My freckles? Really. Why would anyone ever find my freckles cute?” She scoffs, a bitter expression on her face. “And my short hair? All I get told about it is that I look too much like a boy. You’re only trying to make me feel better to make up for what they said.”

“Yeah?” You hum as you dry your hands with a cloth, walking over to sit on her lap. A shudder runs down Ellie’s spine as your lips softly brush the skin of her jawline, her mouth falling open ever so slightly as her breath stutters. “H-hey…” She lets out an exasperated huff, her voice shaky.

“You’re a tease,” She mutters softly, though a small smile dances on her face.

“You’re so pretty t’me..” You let it slip, pressing your soft lips to her while your hands foam up and down her nape, the hairs standing up from your electrifying touch.

Ellie’s breath hitches as your lips now begin to brush against her cheek, a shudder running through her whole body. “You only say that because you have bad taste in women…” She mutters breathlessly, her fingers digging into your plush sides.

“Mm, do I?”

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as your fingertips travel lower down her neck, her breath hitching as she nods. “Y-yeah…” She can’t help the slight quiver in her voice as her fingers slide up to your hair, burying themselves in the strands.

“Does my girlfriend like me though?”

Ellie lets out a breathless chuckle as your mouth travels lower, her breath hitching again. “Y-yes…” She murmurs, her fingers tightening in your hair. “Yes, she-” Another exhale stutters from her as she gasps and breaks off, her head falling to the side as you nip at her neck. “She does..”

“love y’so much, Elliebaby.”

A soft moan slips out between her parted lips, her eyes fluttering shut as your teeth worry at her skin. “F-fuuuck…” Her grip tightens in your tresses, her head tilting further to the side to give her easier access.

“God, I love you…” The words stumble from her mouth in a breathy haze, her voice dripping with affection

“And you’re never g’na listen to what some no-good, men who are cheating on their wives, say to you, right?”

Ellie’s voice is breathless as she struggles to form a witty reply, her words interrupted by small gasps and moans. “Yessss….” She manages to hiss out between breaths, her hold on you tightening.

“Never again…” Her voice is almost a plea as her body arches further against yours, her head falling back with a sharp inhale against the couch.

You’d be sure to give those men their lashings when the time comes. For now, you’re teaching Ellie some lessons.

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 2

Moniker: Farah Risk Level: Low. Farah has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Loss of virginity, virginity kink. Safeword: Refer to first brief.

I trust Farah fully, she will look after you. I’ll be watching - Price

“Still doing ok? Think your hymen is pretty thin, so you might tear a little” Farah asked, her finger slowly pressing up inside of you.

You liked her, she was gorgeous in casual lounge wear and had greeted you warmly. The room was set up similarly to yesterday but now with colourful drapes enclosing the bed like a warm cocoon and a table set up full of snacks and water. There was the faint scent of coconut from the oil she had liberally applied on her fingers and your pussy. It was very relaxed.

But then again she had also ordered you out of your clothes in the first 30 seconds and got her finger inside you as soon as you were bare.

“Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Hm, and this?” she said while her thumb gently swept across your clit.

You sucked a sharp breath through your teeth. Still sensitive.

“Ah, I thought it looked a little tender. Soap is an animal” she said fondly. “I’ll be kinder. This is a gift you’re giving me and I’m not in the business of hurting those who give me gifts.”

She leaned over and pressed a quick, almost innocent peck to your sore clit and slowly pumped her finger as she sat back up and grabbed a strawberry off of one of the plates with her other hand. She was beautiful stretching over like that, but my God you did not know why how casual she was about a finger inside you was making you hot.

“Eat habibi, you need to relax.”

The strawberry burst in your mouth and you chewed slowly before swallowing, a pleasant sweetness left behind. She quite literally had you eating from the palm of her hand by the time she added a second finger.

You couldn’t quite decide how it felt. You’d tried it yourself sure, but honestly since your aim was always just to get off you usually didn’t go anywhere near your hole unless it was to gather up some lubrication. It had been strange having a tongue inside you, but the fingers were so much longer and able to stroke differently than Soap’s tongue had.

They kept brushing against what you assumed was your hymen. You hadn’t expected it to be in tact to be honest, you knew there was every likelihood it would have torn or stretched out already just with life. It didn’t really matter to you whether or not you bled when you lost your virginity. To be honest you just wanted it gone because while you understood it was a dumb social construct, that didn’t stop your brain from getting weird about it.

“You’re so tight” Farah said, the edge of a groan in her voice. “But you’ll take me so well. They raise little girls into women who think it is supposed to hurt, who have a voice telling them they are supposed to suffer to prove their worth.”

She curled one finger up and it rubbed against the top of your channel, searching for something.

“It is my privilege to undo the damage for those woman. I will fuck such pride into you that you will never know that voice again.”

It felt like a lightning bolt when her finger found what it has been searching for. She pressed up against the top of your channel and it felt like she had set you on fire as your legs spasmed at the sensation.

“There we are! It’s good that you’re sensitive here, not everybody is” she said, obviously pleased but still so shockingly casual about the whole thing as she smiled and planted a kiss on the tip of your nose. “It gives me some idea of angles for you, maybe today we won’t even need to touch you on the outside to have you peak.”

You wanted to whine at her for being so unaffected, so perfectly calm and collected in her soft sweats and hoodie.

Meanwhile Price was grinning like a madman watching Farah Karim be so fully affected by you on the cameras. She did not treat just anyone with such care, did not share small affections so easily. And she certainly did not struggle to smother the underlying groan of appreciation in her voice unless she was deeply, truly and entirely affected.

How could she not be? She didn’t hide her love of virgins. There was something about the trust it took to give that up to her, to let her slowly, painstakingly open you up so she could nestle inside you. She couldn’t wait to see how wet you made her strap, how sweetly your hole would clench around it. Her body would not take it’s pleasure from that weighty silicone, for virgins she did not pick a harness designed to stimulate her as well. The rush from knowing she was claiming something that society placed such a heavy weight on, the almost ritualistic feeling of the whole affair, that was what she wanted. Her pleasure could come later.

She was content to take her time, make sure your inexperienced pussy was nice and relaxed and welcoming. It wasn’t so different from taming a skittish animal, she had to make sure it felt safe enough to begin craving affection.

“That’s it, do you feel that? How your muscles are relaxing and you’re starting to loosen up for me? You’re doing perfectly habibi” she praised.

Oh her voice was so silky that it felt like it was caressing you, sliding against your skin. You felt how your body became more receptive, how your pussy began to massage around her two fingers as they scissored out to increase the stretch. You wanted more you realised. You couldn’t quite believe it, but you wanted more.

Maybe it was wrong of you, but you’d never quite understood the hype. The idea of someone pushing inside you, tearing part of you and then humping themselves into you over and over to seek their pleasure while you tried to adjust to the pain made you feel a little queasy. You so wanted to just get that first experience over with, were so certain it would be awful.

Now? Now you felt languid and warm. It wasn’t the frenzied heat that Soap had you in the day before, rather a slow, decadent sort of heat. One that only drizzled itself further over you as Farah fed you more ripe fruit that burst on your tongue.

“Farah?”

“Hm?”

“I would like you to take it. Take me.”

You were surprised by your own steady calmness, but it felt right. It felt like you had just figured out a part of who you were. It didn’t make you anxious to ask for what you wanted, didn’t have your body tensing. If anything it made you feel more free.

“It would be an honour” Farah answered with full sincerity as she slowly pulled her fingers from you and brought them to your mouth.

It felt natural to clean them off. Not awkward, not scandalous. Just natural, like her fingers belonged in your mouth with your tongue sensually snaking around them. You liked how you tasted on her.

“Keep yourself loose for me habibi” she said before kissing you quickly and going to strap up.

The kiss made your head spin and your body feel weightless. You really, really liked her.

It wasn’t uncomfortable or strange dipping two of your fingers into yourself now. Your body gave way easily for them, knife through warm and melting at the edges butter. You lazily fingered yourself and watched her fit the harness around her hips over her clothes. The cock she fitted didn’t look as intimidating as it would have when you walked into this room.

She had chosen something beginner friendly. It was about average length and thick enough to fill you without the stretch feeling impossible. The textured surface would help her nail your g-spot and she was near drooling at the image of you cumming hard around her cock, going absolutely limp and boneless from how it would feel to orgasm without her ever playing with your clit.

With that image firmly filling her thoughts she came back to you on the bed, slowly moving between your legs to nestle her strap between your thighs and rock it gently against you, careful to only bump your sore clit just barely.

“Here, let this melt slowly in your mouth, try focus on how it tastes” she said, taking a piece of chocolate and placing it on your tongue.

The silicone was dripping with oil so when it caught on your hole it was an easy push inside. The chocolate was unreal. It wasn’t like anything you had ever tasted and you were pretty sure from how luxurious it was that it cost more than what you made in a month (or used to, at least, this gig was incredibly lucrative).

It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t some mind blowing pleasure, it was more a pinch followed by a heavy fullness that made it tricky to catch your breath.

“Good, so good habibi. How’s the chocolate?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could let her taste it for herself, kissing her firmly with no worry about messiness or sexiness. You just wanted to be full of her everywhere, wanted her tongue dancing with yours.

It was a different feeling when you moved. The fullness was insistent and anytime another part of you felt it there was a spark across your body. You moaned wantonly into her mouth, licking the last of the melted chocolate from her tongue before taking a deep, incredible feeling breath and laying back down.

“Good?” she asked.

“So good. Love me.”

She smiled and gently grabbed your hips for purchase so she could slowly pull out a little and rock into you to let you adjust. Soon she was pulling out right to the tip and then firmly pushing back in to the root.

You let yourself go, no worrying about how you sounded or looked, just enjoying the experience with moans and your hands smoothing across your body. It felt good to squeeze your breast or trace patterns on your stomach and right now feeling good was what mattered.

“Ya Allah, you are so beautiful” she said on a gasp as she made love to you.

“So are you” you replied dreamily.

This whole experience was a dream. Your body felt so fucking good. It was as if your blood was syrup pumping lazily and richly through you, making everything sweet and sticky. Every slow thrust rubbed against that spot she had found earlier and compounded the feeling.

Your body worked itself up so, so slowly. It was a sharp contrast to how Soap had worked you the day before, hurling you over the cliff over and over so you didn’t know how to even think anymore. No, this was a more leisurely affair, your body taking it’s time, savouring every morsel of sensation before moving on to the next.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was just a natural progression of the pleasure that had been building rather than a sudden explosion and it felt like it lasted so luxuriously long. Your body was doing the same as it had been, savouring those ripe bursts of sensation before moving on to the next bite.

When finally the pleasure had all been tasted and swallowed down you sighed in bliss. It ached when Farah pulled out, but it was a good ache.

“That was amazing” you said.

“You were amazing” she replied, brushing her fingers against your cheek. “You bled for me.”

“Did I?”

You were honestly surprised. There hadn’t been much in the way of sharp pain or feeling like you were tearing, so you had thought you hadn’t and that there probably wasn’t any blood at all.

“You did. Would you allow me to keep it?”

You didn’t know how she meant to do that and you found you didn’t much care.

“It’s yours.”

Farah did her own aftercare with you, washing you and then massaging fragrant oil into your skin before hand feeding you while you talked for hours.

In a few weeks she would have a brand new bead for her bracelet and would wear your gift proudly on her wrist right next to all the others.

[sunarinscat]

Hi! I just read your waves one shot and I really thought it was adorable. I’ve been craving some fluff with Kirishima x Reader so If you have a time please write it! 🤗

Of course lovely, here you go..

4:26 am Eijiro Kirishima

The world thinks kiri is rough around the edges but you know he’s a big softie

When Eijiro Kirishima flashes on tv the public sees him as a rough and rugged hero. From his spiked hair to his hardened quirk he is anything but soft. You’ll watch interviews where he walks on screen all big and manly and he’s pestered with questions like:

“how do you stay so sharp?” Or “how are you so strong all the time?” “What motivates you to keep going?”

He’ll smile into the camera and give a general answer about saving people, but then his eyes will twinkle and he’ll mention that he has someone at home waiting for him who keeps him motivated.

You can’t help giggling like a school girl and kicking your feet a little. He’s reluctant to hard launch you because he doesn’t want every villain around to know who you are and use you to get to him, but if he could scream your name to the world he would.

After a long day your rough and rugged man will come home soft and dopey. He’s anything but rough to you. His words drip off his tongue like honey..

“How’s my baby’s day been? Did you miss your manly hero? All pretty in the kitchen makin dinner f’me..”

He rests his hands on your hips and rubs circles across your skin with his thumbs. He latches onto you until your ready to sit down and eat with him. He’ll coax you to tell him the details of your day before he talks about his. He nods as you speak, watching the words leave your lips. An occasional:

“Yeah? Tell me more..”

Then he’ll tell you about all the things that reminded him of you today, before he finally tells you the details of his day.

“I saw the prettiest flower. It looked just like you.. woulda brought it home but that villain got me distracted and I dropped it..”

“Eiji tell me more about the villain, how was the fight? Are you hurt much? Did he get away?”

“No it was all fine, we got him… but that reminds me of this thing I saw…”

When the food is gone and the dishes are washed he whisks you off to take a bath with him. He loves baths, especially with you. He’s got one of those bath trays and you two will relax and watch an episode of “your show” while you shampoo each other’a hair, the bubbles making Eiji’s hair look like an Oompa Loompa. He massages your back with calloused hands and you lean into his touch. You rest your head on his shoulder and trail kisses along his jaw until your fingers are prune-y and its time to drain the water.

You’ll giggle and talk as you go through your nightly routine. You brush your teeth together and he’ll look at you like your an angel. No make up? A baggy T shirt, and foam on the sides of your mouth? He’s in love. He’ll try to kiss you while your still brushing your teeth and you have to bat him away with your hands while you spit and rinse. Once your done you stand on tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck giving him a gentle kiss.

Finally you sleepily stomp off to bed, eyes heavy. Your head is fuzzy and content as you slip under the covers with Eijiro and dim the lights. He sets an alarm while you play with his hair. He pulls your body flush against his and curls around you. You can feel his chest rise and fall.. rise and fall. You can hear his breath in your ear. You crane your neck to see his red hair (unstyled) falling softly around his face. Your hero is by no means rough or sharp to anyone but his enemies. Even then he’s probably a bit too nice to them… You fall asleep to his heartbeat, knowing your safe and sound with your softie hero Eijiro Kirishima.

[literaila]

were there any occurrences back in the day where gojo and reader almost kissed?

“i’m not helping you with this.”

gojo is sprawled across the bleachers, his limbs way too long, his hair getting all over your notebook. “please,” he repeats, for the fifth time, “he’s going to kill me if i turn it in late again.”

“maybe go ask one of your friends,” you suggest, idly, not even bothering to pull on the white mop that is currently smudging your neat writing. “oh wait. you can’t.”

there’s a smirk on your face because you quite like it when gojo begs

“is this another—“

“‘cause you don’t have any.”

two otherworldly eyes meet yours. gojo glances up at you with a sort of irritation you rarely get to see on him. “how many times are you going to make that joke?” he asks, grumbling. “it’s getting old.”

you grin. “not to me.”

and then you push him away and he sighs as he lays on the bench, one leg propped in front of you, the other folded almost underneath his torso.

“can you go now? i actually need to finish my assignment.”

gojo makes another pathetic noise. “yaga said no more missions until i turn it in, though,” he pokes you with a shoe. “how am i supposed to buy more pocky if i can’t leave school grounds?”

“bribe suguru to buy some for you.”

“that doesn’t work anymore.”

you raise a brow, pushing his foot away. “what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do anything,” he pouts at you, leaning up. “who ever said a verbal contract was binding?”

“mm… the civil code, i think.”

gojo scoffs. “well, i’m still not paying him.”

“what a shame,” you sigh, abandoning your paperwork—how are you supposed to focus with his syrupy voice droning on, anyway? “i guess the next week will be filled with your sugar withdrawals.”

“or…” gojo sits up, smiling at you—his most irritating one, of course, like he knows some secret. “you could help me with this assignment.”

“i’m not cheating for you.”

“‘help,’” he repeats, “do you know what ‘help’ is?”

“your version of help is having me give you all of the answers and then purposefully misspelling some words so yaga won’t notice.”

“do you think i’m illiterate?” gojo asks, mock hurt.

you laugh. “aren’t you?”

he frowns. “now you have to help me.”

“go ask geto, or shoko, or literally anyone else. why am i your first choice whenever you want to annoy someone?”

you see his eyelashes flutter from the tips of his glasses. “because you have the best reactions,” he answers, slyly.

you look away, shaking your head.

“and you’re the smartest. and meanest. i like it when you’re mean to me.”

you look back over, scoffing. “yeah, i know,” you slide over, just a bit. “you freak.”

who said kissing ass never worked?

you really need to work on setting some boundaries with him. or your own idiocy. maybe you should ask shoko if you got a concussion last time you sparred with nanami.

“what’s the assignment?” you ask, making sure not to look at gojo’s face.

he grins, leaning down anyway. as if he doesn’t know what you’re doing. as if he’s not aware that his grins are your breaking point—that they’ll either push you further away or draw you in so close that you can taste his breath.

as if he can’t feel it too.

“you’re going to help me?” he asks, far too proud. “really?”

“you’re buying me lunch next time we have a mission together,” you tell him. “and dinner.”

“am i?”

you look up at him, eyes sharp, mouth ready to—

but he’s right there, and gojo doesn’t know a single thing about personal space.

and you thought that you were used to this. used to feeling like you can see his eyes, even with his blacked out shades. used to the glimmering edges of his teeth, and the smooth shine to his skin.

used to him and his words and..

god damn it. why does he have to make everything so difficult?

and really, it’s not your fault when you lean forward a little bit—because there’s a slight breeze and you were pushed. because you just lost your balance for a second and you just need to straight out again.

and it’s not even you leaning in at all. it’s gojo—it’s always gojo. it’s always satoru making the wrong moves and pushing these things too far, and it’s not your fault that his lips are pink and your eyes are drawn to them, or that everything about him is so hard and soft and—

you flinch away when a bird sings, or when the wind changes, or when you finally catch on to the tone of your own thoughts.

you lean back again, hating yourself for every moment that you didn’t before.

“i—“ you clear your throat. “you are. buying me things, i mean. you are.”

gojo swallows. “okay.”

“okay.”

he doesn’t look at you and you don’t look at him. the two of you pause for a moment, the silence entirely too loud.

“okay,” you repeat. “what’s it about, again?”

[yurinaa-world]

please, for your 800 followers event I would like to ask for Jamil, Leona, azul, Idia and malleus with the letters J,L, O and P please

✦Characters: Jamil, Leona, Azul, Idia, & Malleus

✦Alphabet: J, L, O, P

800 Follower Milestone Event; Under The Stars

𝒥𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁 𝒱𝒾𝓅𝑒𝓇

✦Jealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

He rarely gets jealous, and it’s rare. He trusts you a lot. But if he were ever to get jealous, it’s more like bottled up. He’s just squinting at you, and that guy is talking to you with too much comfort and no self-awareness. You can see the sour look becoming more evident throughout the day since your interaction with that guy.

✦Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He’s never been a desperate man—well, not for love, that is, survival? Yes, but this! It’s normal to help you out with work or if you're injured because people were roughhousing, but a lot of the things he does for Kamil make helping you feel something different. The second Kamil found out, he went straight to planning the most embarrassing plan ever. He might skip the plan altogether.

When he saw you, his heart just skipped a beat and was instead about to slip out of it. Unlike before, when he’s all professional, he lets it slip out when you're alone. I'm watching your face contort from your happy smile into a blushing mess, and my mouth is agape at this revelation.

✦On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it evident to others? How do they express their feelings?

He's an act-of-service type of guy; he gives you little gifts from his dorm, makes you food, or does anything else you need help with, even if it’s not school-related. It’s the honeymoon phase forever here.

Oh, not really; no one notices unless they were to look into it more than they should. Giving you extra things and help anytime you need it. People would confuse you for being very close friends. Until you get caught holding hands when you thought you were “alone,” you are being investigated by everyone. You were so annoyed about it that you didn't tell them, and that's why you were ditching them to hang out with your lover, boy!

✦PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc, when others are watching?

Of course, he isn't telling anyone; he isn't a fan of bragging in front of other people; that's just not who he is, but Kamil's big mouth always runs its course (he's trying). Not having a fan PDA, like no way is he kissing you either, like simple pinky holding. It is fine when there are not a lot of people around.  

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒶 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇

✦Jealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

He doesn’t care at all. He stares daggers at that bimbo for a first-year who dares to think he has a chance with you. He must be living under a rock if he doesn’t know that you're with him. You see him from the corner of your eye; he’s starting to get more of a malicious look on his face as his sharp teeth begin to show, with the poor first starting to get scared for his life.

✦Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He is so calm about it; he doesn’t even need to say any words you like him, and he surprisingly likes you back. He looks at you, “touching me up like that, starting to make you think you like me, Herbivore.” You freeze and feel embarrassed, so much so that you can’t say anything back. “I like you back.”

✦On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it evident to others? How do they express their feelings?

It was pretty evident that he liked you back, like letting you get away or touching his tail or his ears. Just feeling in general and letting you be next to him while he falls asleep might as well be the confession itself—that he didn’t rip your face off for touching him. That one time, you accidentally stepped on his tail, and everyone looked at you in horror, but he didn't murder you. It's a miracle if you call it that, but you’ll have to pay him back in another way other than your life.

✦PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc., when others are watching?

He brags about Little whenever Ruggie says anything about Leona being lovesick. He’s just jealous that no one would bat an eye at him. He doesn’t care about anything; if people are watching, who cares? Let them watch, and it's not like he’s got anything to lose. He’s kissing you in the end, so he’s winning something.

𝒜𝓏𝓊𝓁 𝒜𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜

✦Jealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

He’s never been jealous! While that’s what he’s feeling right, he’s never had to share with anyone! But notes, work, and answers all come at a price, but I am sharing them with you! It is something he would never do. Those students in his dorm are just begging for no mercy because they’re gawking at you with such a look in their eyes as if they could make you fall in love with them instead.

✦Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He feels his face red whenever you get near, especially when he’s been burned out entirely with little to no patience to deal with anything else. Seeing your happy face, just come to him with water in your hand and a slow asking if he’s alright, blush corroding his face. “I love you so much.” Leave his mouth in a mumble. He must’ve not been thinking right or something. How could he say something like that?!

✦On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s obvious to his two right-hand assistants. He shows you a bit too much favouritism compared to anyone else. The little things he gives you to anyone else would cost them working in the lounge for months.

✦PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc., when others are watching?

He doesn’t like to brag, unlike his accomplishments, but Floyd’s around, and whenever he’s around, he can’t shut up, sticking out his tongue in disgust, watching you two touch hands by accident.

𝐼𝒹𝒾𝒶 𝒮𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹

✦Jealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

It's a silent type of jealousy, like the “planning murder at the back of my head” type. The more he thinks about it, the more it pisses him off completely. His hair turns slightly red while he smashes the buttons on his controller, while Ortho watches it unfold from behind him.

✦Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He can't; he can't do it. Nope. Not happening. He’ll rather die than confess to you. Everyone says the worst you could say is no, but he can’t handle it. Even though Ortho says his feelings to be reciprocated are 99%, he still can’t do it by just going up to you, looking you in the eyes, and talking with his actual voice. He would rather hide in a hole and live there forever!!

He ended up confessing. He stutters in his voice while telling you he likes you. Who knows who is blushing the most since you both look like tomatoes?

✦On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

He wants nothing to do with other people; he would never go outside!! Never! The only thing people do is that you go to his dorm often and with what ortho says, so that is all they have to go off of.

✦PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc., when others are watching?

He’s so shy about the most basic affection you could give him. Holding hands, or even if it’s holding pinkies, he can’t help but go a little red whenever you do that. He's just never felt affection the way you do.

𝑀𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓊𝓈 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒶

✦Jealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

It’s just a sick taste in his mouth. Of course, he trusts you. Why wouldn’t he? You’ve been so close together and loving, so what exactly is this? He doesn’t know how to deal with this feeling. His brain can’t comprehend any of this. So, won’t you help him navigate what he’s feeling? 

✦Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He’s so old-fashioned, like a love letter in such a fancy font, too!! To the point, you can only read one part. That which is “I love you immensely. You are first, and you will always be my first.” Yes, you hugged him when you saw him again.

✦On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

Nobody knows that you're together since no one can find this dude except everyone at Diasomnia (seven dismay finding out you're together was a lot). He’s an old man, and he’s old-fashioned, like reading those books with covers saying “how to make your significant other fall even more in love with you.”

✦PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc., when others are watching?

Again, nobody knows where this guy is at half the time. He doesn’t like to brag, and There’s no one to brag to anyway.

[hannie-dul-set]

PATIENCE, PATIENCE.

p — SIM JAEYUN x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, making out, secondhand embarrassment aka the hannie-dul-set fic triumvirate + a good amount of public indecency. 1.5k words.

requested by — anon: cocky jock (who loses that cockiness around you) x reserved student librarian (who loses that cool because of him).

note — loosely inspired by a moment from the manhwa "unstoppable hayoung" ifykyk. in a prev fic i alluded beomgyu to a mosquito, in this one jake to a pest. i think i'm seeing a pattern here.

a pest has been following you for quite some time now.

“sim jaeyun.”

his name falls icy off your tongue, prefacing it with a sharp inhale yet the man in question is unfazed. he’s trespassing the barrier that’s preventing you from socking him in the face: the front desk of the library where he’s decided to prop his arms over, leaning into the surface, smiling oh-so-handsomely at you as if you aren’t politely telling him to fuck off with your eyes alone.

then again. you don’t really expect him to understand social cues.

“for the dozenth time, please leave me alone.”

so you verbalize your intent instead.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he replies. “not until you agree to go out with me.”

you suck in a deep huff of air, close your eyes, and dig your fingers into your thighs to ward away the distress.

“just one date. please?” he prods, nudging himself closer over the desk as if the scrawls of paper you’re trying to organize aren’t as important as his incessant badgering. “are you really going to keep saying no to this face?” the face in mention looks particularly punch-able right now. you’ve always taken pride in yourself for being a very patient, patient individual. jake sim from philosophy 102 is testing that patience.

“the library is for reading,” you say through gritted teeth. patience, patience, patience. you’re a daffodil on a breezy field, a piece of driftwood on a steady river. you will not fight a man in your workplace. you will keep your job and maintain inner peace.

“i am reading,” he argues. “i’m trying to read your mind because i don’t get why you don’t want to go out with me.”

holy crap. he’s insufferable.

“i’ve already told you dozens of times, jake.” now, you don’t know a thing or two about the ball sport he does, but that pink varsity jacket is starting to look abhorrent. it’s being shoved into your face the more he tries to throw himself over your desk. a bright jarring color, unsafe for the eyes. “i don’t want to go out with you. also, i’d appreciate if you stop ruining my work.”

one of the documents got wrinkled under his elbow. his mouth opens, “oh, sorry!” and he quickly backs off, ironing the sheet with his palms. “but at least tell me why you don’t want to go out with me. you keep rejecting me with a blank face but i don’t know why.”

your upper lip twitches. 

because this is all because of a dare, that’s fucking why.

no, even that aside, the way he keeps arrogantly trying to hit on you, expecting you to just accept it and go is grinding your gears. you’re calm. you’re usually calm. but something about this guy just pushes all your buttons in one go, makes you spew out bullshit you’d never dare yourself to say to anyone else.

“hey,” your rouse. “can you kiss me right now?”

two can play at that game, bitch.

it works. it works really well because jake is suddenly as pink as his jacket. well, you don’t blame him. the library isn’t safe from gross, hormonal activities, but those are usually done in between the shelves— not at the front desk near the entrance. 

you’re mimicking his stance, leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and all. “like— like a peck on the cheek?” he stutters.

“no. like tongue in mouth kissing me like a starved man and it’s your last meal on death row,” you clarify. it’s funny how you can see his brain circuits crashing in real time. serves him right. you let out a breath and stand up, seeing the clock tick closer to your break. you quickly gather your things and circle out from behind the desk, now in cross-armed disappointment next to your persistent pest. “this is why i don’t want to go out with you, jake. you don’t even have feelings for me. you’re doing this because your friends told you to, and i don’t—”

suddenly, you feel something soft on your lips.

suddenly, your knees are weak, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re exchanging spit with jake sim in the library lobby.

wait, you gasp into his mouth and he responds with a grunt. wait, your eyelids flutter, air knocked out of your chest that’s somehow now pressed against his because wait— this wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

how dare he actually do what you told him to? how dare he give you the best damn kiss you’ll ever have in your life? 

“what the fuck?” you breathe out in intermittent huffs, hands on his chest as you pull yourself back. jake’s hazy eyes are looking at you in a way that makes your brain jump in circles, coupled by the arm that he has looped around your lower back. he’s crazy. he’s fucking crazy. “why— why would you do that?!”

“you told me to kiss you!”

“and you did?!”

your eyes widen at the volume of your own voice, quickly slapping a hand over your swollen lips, but making noise is at the bottom of your library sins today. you see your supervisor’s attention on you from the corner of your eye, and your face flushes. “why would you go this far for a dare?” you say in a quieter voice, still manic, still frantic, and jake flinches hard when you jab a finger to his chest. “you’re nuts, you’re actually nuts, oh my god—”

“wait, what do you mean dare?” your finger seems to be hurting him because he grabs your wrist and brings your hand down. “a dare? a dare to do what?”

you seethe. “don’t play dumb with me, jake. overheard you and your little soccer friends last time—”

“it’s football—”

“i don’t care.” your voice is getting louder again. jake flinches once more. “the problem here is you keep asking me out to date you because your soccer friends are betting on who can bed the quiet library assistant first and— and i’m not going to play dumb just because you’re a good kisser. i’m angry and disgusted and—”

“do you mind continuing your argument outside?”

your mouth is hanging open, paused mid-speech. when you peer to your left, you see that your supervisor has teleported right next to you. oh, god. there goes your job. jake apologizes for the both of you and skews your frozen figure out the door. you’re screwed. your patience could handle six months at starbucks and three months babysitting three toddlers, but i cannot handle one sim jaeyun.

“so,” the perpetrator’s voice snaps you back to reality. you’re both now outside the library, and he’s looking at you with a smugness that begs a kick to the balls. “you think i kiss good.”

your face bitters. “is that your only takeaway from all that?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i also got that you’re rightfully mad at me for something i have to clear up.”

here we go. you’re curious to see what excuses he’ll make, how many sorry’s he’ll impart, and if he’ll get down on his knees. jake. but his starting words aren’t what you’re hoping for. “there isn’t a bet,” he starts. “my teammates were just trying to tease me because i didn’t have the balls to ask you out. dumb, i know, but they were dumber because they were all like, ‘if you don’t make a move soon, we will, blah, blah, blah’ to provoke me so—”

jake is matching his varsity jacket again.

“long story short, i made them run fifteen laps and decided to get it over with by asking you out on a date.”

you’re brought back to the first instance jake had asked you out— it was in the lecture hall, right after class, and he was wearing the same pink jacket that at this point seems like his second skin. the color isn’t as jarring as you initially thought.

“but rejection didn’t feel nice. so i thought i’d try again.”

you narrow your eyes. “again, as in like, eight times?”

“you counted?” he muses. you are unamused. he clears his throat and continues. “you’re always so calm and collected, but your eyebrows would furrow and your face would scrunch up whenever i threw you the question. it’s cute. i got addicted. you can’t pin all the blame on me.”

you let his words simmer, and with each passing second of silence jake grows more nervous, fidgeting in wait. you decide to spare him the agony, letting out a deep and heavy sigh. “okay. you’re forgiven.”

it’s instantaneous how his face lights up. now, you’re the one flinching.

“nice! does that mean we’re dating now? can i kiss you again?”

“now hold on,” you stop him, mildly appalled, mostly flustered. “i said i forgive you. i never said we can start making out in a public area again.”

he bats his eyes at you. “in private then?” 

you want to hit him. you want to hit him so bad. sim jaeyun is the pest that has been following you for quite some time now. you fear that at this point, there’s no getting rid of him now.

PATIENCE, PATIENCE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[judeswhore]

only angel

summary: you need to make your ex boyfriend jealous and your brother’s best friend is more than happy to help

pairing: brother’s bsf!jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of the reader being cheated on

word count: 2.6k

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is kinda? based on one scene from culpa mia that’s had my head spinning for days so u should go watch it!!!

you couldn’t remember the name of the boy who had his hands on your ass.

that would’ve been a problem any other night, the fact that the hands didn’t belong to your boyfriend but a total stranger you’d met not even ten minutes before. but it wasn’t any other night and your boyfriend was no longer your boyfriend because he’d decided it was okay to make out with other girls when he was bored. just to make matters worse, you only found out because ben’s best friend sent you a picture, zoomed in from across the room until you could see clearly how far his tongue was down her throat.

hurt and frustration had taken over, a burning need to get back at him unfurling in your chest and after downing a bunch of shots you’d grabbed the first boy you’d spotted. now that you think of it, you’re not sure you even asked for his name, too caught up in dragging him up the stairs and away from the rest of the party. you wanted to send ben your own picture, preferably one that would hurt a lot more. so here you were, pressed up against the wall, rough hands palming at your bare skin and you couldn’t deny that it felt good.

the kisses and wandering hands had distracted you from your task, had momentarily made you forget as you instead focused on how good it felt to be with someone who clearly wanted you. your relationship with ben had been teetering on the edge for weeks, both of you becoming bored but neither of you making the first move to part ways. maybe you should’ve known the avoidance would only ever lead to this.

teeth sunk into your bottom lip and the sharp pain tugged you out of the kiss, had you remembering why you’d cornered the boy in the first place. untangling one hand from his light hair, you pulled your phone from where you’d tucked it safely into the space between your boobs and your dress, lifted it high enough to capture what you were doing. there was a few seconds of fumbling, a frustrated groan working it’s way up your chest, getting lost in the boys mouth as he gripped a little harsher at your ass.

and then your phone was gone, plucked straight from your fingers with practiced ease, your hands immediately pushing at the chest in front of you. the boy stumbled in surprise, dropped his hands from you as you rushed to tug your dress back down. jude flashed you a grin, taunting and a little mean, his dark eyes locked on yours.

“give me my phone.” you demanded, already stepping forward but he tutted and hid the device behind his back.

“you’re blocking the bathroom, angel.” jude turned to the boy standing awkwardly at your side, hands pressed in front of his crotch and embarrassment rolled over you at being caught in such a position. especially by jude. he cocked his head towards the stairs. “move.” the tone of his voice left no room for arguments and within seconds you were left alone in the hallway.

jude looked heartbreakingly good, far too hot to be wandering alone through a house party and you hated yourself for wondering if he’d been with anyone since you’d parted ways at the front door. it was only his second night back from spain and he’d gotten bigger since the last time you’d seen him, all broad shoulders and bulging arms, his hair and beard grown out significantly more. the all black outfit he was wearing was really doing wonders for him, the shirt open by at least three buttons so you could see the top of his chest, smooth skin just waiting to be marked. he was gorgeous and you hated it.

"did my brother send you up here to do that?" you asked, annoyance burning hot inside of you as you crossed your arms over your chest and glowered at your brother's best friend.

jude and your brother had been friends for as long as you could remember, joined at the hip through primary and secondary, only parting when jude left for germany. that distance meant that whenever jude was back home he was with your brother, which meant you saw him a lot more than you'd like. it wasn't that you didn't like jude, it was the opposite actually, you liked him a lot more than you should.

there was an undeniable tension between the two of, you, lingering glances and fleeting touches that left you burning up. inappropriate comments whispered in your ear while he brushed past you in the kitchen, compliments pressed into your skin as he grazed his lips over your bare shoulder, too quick for you to really feel the heat of his touch. on more than one occasion you'd caught him staring at your ass or tits, a look in his eye that screamed he wanted to ruin you. multiple movie nights had almost ended with you begging him to fuck you right there on the sofa, wound up from how many times he'd brushed his fingers over your thigh beneath the duvet you shared.

but it never went any further, he never really touched you, not in any way that would satiate the need you had for him. because there were rules, rules that had been put in place long before you had any idea what it meant to want another person. your brother had made it more than clear that you were off limits to all of his friends and if he ever found out about the flirting between you and jude you were sure he’d kill you both.

"no," jude sounded casual when he replied, teasing even, but his next words were anything but. you could hear the strain in them, the hidden jealousy that made your chest ache every time. "why're you up here getting off with that idiot? where's ben?" he sneered your ex's name, face twisted like the word left behind a bad taste in his mouth and for maybe the first time you understood.

“obviously not here.” the words had barely left your mouth when your phone, still tucked into jude’s hand, pinged with a new message. nosy as always, he glanced down at the screen, stared with a blank expression for a few seconds before his brows creased. he looked annoyed when he met your gaze.

“he’s cheating?”

“why do you think i was kissing someone else?” you asked, reaching again for your phone but jude pulled it back again, completely ignoring your frustrated huff. he tried for a teasing smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, the dark of them alight with pity.

“i don’t know, thought maybe you were trying to get my attention.” you scoffed at that and his joking manner dropped, his aftershave washing over you as he took a slow step forward. in turn, you took a quick step back. “you’re trying to make ben jealous?”

“i wanted a picture.”

“a picture?”

“ben’s friend sent me a picture of him kissing another girl. i wanted to send one back.” hearing yourself say it out loud you felt a little stupid, humiliation creeping up on you the longer jude stared in silence. he probably thought you were ridiculous and honestly weren’t you? you didn’t need to lower yourself to ben’s level by doing the same as him, you didn’t need to prove anything to him.

"did you get it?" jude took another step towards you.

"no." you moved back and hit the wall, a quiet gasp blowing past your lips as you tipped your head back to meet his gaze. there was an odd look in his eyes, one you weren't sure you'd seen before but it twisted your stomach all the same, had your palms sweating so much you had to wipe them down your dress. he was close, too close and you could just make out the faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

the tension was thick, your gaze locked on his and you felt trapped, unable to look away or push him out of your space. the tips of his fingers grazed lightly over your thigh and your tummy dipped, lips parting as you drew in a shaky breath and held it. the path his fingers traced burned, the further up they travelled the more you started to ache, goosebumps rising across your skin. they reached the hem of your dress and for a few seconds he simply toyed with it.

"if i get you the picture do you promise to stop kissing random boys?" he asked, voice barely a whisper and his close proximity was the only reason you could hear him over the music in the house. something tightened in your tummy, something hot and primal as his fingers worked a little higher up your thigh, his knuckles disappearing under your dress.

you blinked at him, slow and unsure because you didn't quite understand what he was asking. there was no way he was suggesting he would kiss you, not when your brother was somewhere downstairs and you could get caught at any moment. not only that, ben knew jude and you knew your ex well enough to know he'd rat you out as soon as he saw the picture. it was a stupid idea and yet your mouth was running before your brain could catch up, shoulders rising and falling.

"maybe."

"maybe?" jude huffed a soft laugh that tickled across your lips, made you tip subconsciously closer to him. his palm was flat on the back of your thigh now and you bit back a pathetic whimper when his thumb grazed teasingly against the curve of your ass. not ten minutes ago you'd had someone else fully groping you with only the smallest effect on your body but the tiniest graze of jude's fingers had your underwear embarrassingly wet. "always so stubborn."

you swallowed thickly and when you pulled in a breath through parted lips, jude's own lips tipped open, dangerously close to yours. your eyes stayed locked on his, heart pounding in your chest and the party around you disappeared, your brother, ben, the consequences of what was about to happen seemed meaningless when jude was watching you the way he was. his nose brushed along yours, the hand that had previously been on your thigh rising to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb pressed against your chin. he urged your head a little further back.

"kiss me and find out." it was a beg, a plea, whispered into the dark hallway and it was jude's undoing.

the tension snapped and his mouth covered yours, his body pressing you firmly into the wall as his fingers slipped around to grip the back of your neck. he kissed you slow at first, gentle caresses of his lips over yours as though testing the waters. he was giving you the chance to push him away, to put an end to the stupidity but you'd never been smart when it came to him and you had no intentions of getting him to stop. instead you opened your mouth beneath his and settled your palms against his chest.

jude made a soft sound in the back of his throat, one that you swallowed greedily and then he was kissing you properly, taking what he wanted with no thought for anything else. years of flirting and teasing, of winding the other up, poured into the kiss, a desperate neediness bleeding through your system as you gripped his shirt between your fingers. he pressed a little firmer against you and wedged one knee between both of yours, half grinned when he heard your breathless whimper.

you were dizzy, pliant between him and the wall, legs so weak you were sure you’d collapse if he stepped away from you. it was a miracle you hadn’t passed out, you weren’t sure how long exactly you’d waited for this moment but it was long enough that this one kiss felt like finally being able to breathe. he kissed you like you might disappear if he stopped, the tips of his fingers soft against the back of your skull, a direct contrast to the hard press of his thigh between your legs.

his kisses started to slow, becoming gentle again, languid strokes of his tongue against yours as he rubbed his thumb in soothing circles just behind your ear. your hands had slipped under his shirt, his bare skin hot against your palms and you felt a deep shiver roll over him when you raked your nails over his abs, determined to leave behind some sort of mark. a sigh spilled from you, a disappointed whine catching in the back of your throat as jude pulled back, his thumb pressing into your chin to stop you from chasing his mouth.

“fuck, you’re-“ he looked wrecked, eyes all pupil, blown out with lust, his lips plump and kiss bitten, begging you to press against them once more. each rise and fall of his chest matched yours, your heart pounding so loud you were afraid he might be able to hear it. his eyes were a little dazed when they dropped to your mouth, his thumb brushing soft over your bottom lip and he watched in a trance as you kissed the pad of it. his following groan was loud. “fuck.”

then he was kissing you again, deeper, dirtier, stealing the final bit of sanity you had left and swallowing it whole. his hand found your throat, fingers squeezing just slightly against the sides and you moaned, rocked forward against his thigh and sunk your nails into his chest. he had you pinned to the wall, his lips and tongue driving you crazy, your need to breathe lost in the need to have him closer, to have him kiss you a little harder.

you’d forgotten about the party, about your brother and the fact anyone could catch you up here, could only focus on how good he felt. on how his body reacted beneath your hands, his muscles tensing when you ran your palms over them, scratched lightly with your nails. he tasted of beer and mint, an unusually addictive taste that you never wanted to forget. and his sounds. the soft moans and gasps he let out into your mouth were driving you insane, were the main reason the space between your thighs ached so much.

you wanted to keep him like this forever.

there was suddenly a flash, so bright it startled you, a surprised gasp tumbling from you as jude pulled away. the ruined look in his eyes was still there but behind it was something else, something that looked a lot like guilt and it made your tummy twist, realisation hitting you like cold water. you straightened up, fixed your dress and he stepped back, your phone held between you like a barrier. for a few seconds you stared a little dumbfounded at the device.

“i got you your picture.” his voice was rough, strained in a way you weren’t entirely used to and there was a deep groove between his brows when you glanced up at him. the space between you was minimal but it felt like miles and for the first time you felt awkward with him, unsure of what to say. you went to apologise, tucking your phone back between your boobs without even looking at the photo but before you could your brother’s voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs.

“bellingham! we’re losing down here, man. hurry the fuck up!” jude blinked, dragged his hand down his face before straightening out his rumpled shirt. you’d creased it with your hands but you knew he’d done much worse with your appearance. if you looked in the mirror you were sure your lipstick would be smudged and once alone your mascara would probably be the same.

he gave you one last look, lingered a little at the top of the stairs. “i think you should go home.”

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[shoyoist]

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 — hanma shuji.

hanma doesn't know why he's so nervous about giving you chocolate on valentine's day. for fuck's sake.

he checks himself out for the seventh time in the reflection of the candy shop's display window, running a hand through the gelled locks of his dyed hair, fixing a strand that had fallen loose. chill the fuck out. he leans back against his motorcycle, hoping to god that he doesn't look awkward as he stands there, holding a heart-shaped box and a bouquet of flowers— starting to feel cold as the sun goes down in the distance, his leather jacket and skinny jeans doing little to protect him from the late winter chill. 

like, who cares if this is the first time he's spending a valentine's day with someone? he stares into the lidded, dusty gold eyes of his reflection. and who gives a shit that you're the first girlfriend he's ever had? the first person to ever sway his devil heart, to pull him down from the top of the world and dethrone him of the title of the lone reaper? … and who cares if he was over twenty whole fucking years old when you gave him the first kiss of his whole life? 

“shut up,” he'd hissed at hanemiya, who laughed at him while he was hunched over shelves of confectionery, unable to pick something for you. “shut the fuck up, b’fore i knock the teeth outta your fuckin' skull.”

“ooh, would ya really do that, now?” usually, anyone would cower and tremble in their pissy little shoes if the hanma shuji had threatened them like that. but hanemiya hadn't even flinched. 

“your little girlfriend might run from you, shuji honey,” kazutora had mocked, using the petname you always called him by. “can't risk that, man. not when she’s the first girl that's ever wanted your flat ass in your life.”

“can it, tora.” hanma had warned, voice low. “for a kid that sat in the class corner and got his shit beat in by every other kid in school, you sure have a sharp fuckin' tongue.”

“ouch.” hanemiya's wince was only fake. “hey, man. we're friends.”

to be fair, hanma had never thought much about love or first kisses or valentine's days, or even relationships in general. he was plenty amused and invested by kisaki's endeavours, sidelining his efforts to win over the woman of his dreams like it was a soap opera.

it was new, unwalked territory, and it made him nervous, made his heart flutter, goddamnit— to be in love with someone himself. and god he's fucking sweating despite the cold, as he stands there as patiently as he can and waits—

“shuji!” your voice calls him from behind, and he ignores the way his face and ears heat up as he turns around to find you. “shuji honey! i'm sorry i'm late!”

you wave at him as you rush over, your shoes clacking over the frosty sidewalk and your scarf fluttering in the breeze. the first thing hanma thinks is oh, fuck— because you're damn pretty, and also because your hands are full. of shopping bags that contain what he can only assume are valentine's day gifts for him.

suddenly, he feels embarrassed. the box of chocolates he spent so much time choosing for you, and the bouquet of roses (one of each colour to signify every kind and stage of love) feel suddenly empty. not good enough.

“hi baby,” he says, voice going rough as he softens it for you. leaning down so you don't have to get on your toes, he allows you to capture his lips in a kiss, parting his lips to give himself a sliver of your taste. “don't worry your pretty little head. i didn't wait long.”

“i went shopping.” you tell him, hanging some of your bags on the handlebar of his motorcycle, trifling through one of them for something. “shuji i knew you'd never dress correctly for the weather, so i made some last minute additions to my gift list and bought you these.”

you pull out a checkered scarf, very long in your hands — and you get on your toes anyway, slinging it around his neck and patting his chest before nodding in satisfaction and going back to the bag for something else. “that, and these gloves!”

you take out a pair of thick, black leather gloves and wait for hanma to finish wrapping his new scarf around his neck, before taking his large hands in yours and pulling the gloves on them for him. “aren't they nice?” you smile proudly, squeezing his gloved hands. “look at the silver buttons! you fasten them like this, and see! they're fitted perfectly.”

“i—” his voice cracks, and he blinks down at you in silence for a moment, feeling warm and fuzzy as you hold his hands in yours. “thank you, pretty doll. i love them.”

“and you better use them.” you huff. “i know you're freezing even now. it's a cold evening. you never learn, shuji.”

“i will, baby.” he has to grin at you then, because you're so fucking cute when you turn your nose up and frown at him, bossing him around like that. “promise.”

“kiss.” you pout, then, and his heart melts. he'd already put his flowers and chocolate down on the back of his motorcycle, so he wraps his hands and arms around your waist, pulling you in and enjoying the warmth you offer as he kisses you, his touch so gentle and tender even to himself. “love you, baby.” he says into your mouth, blushing again when he feels you hum happily against his lips. “i love you so much.”

when you pull away, your gaze wanders off to his motorcycle — and you look up at him, eyes somehow so adorable, sparkly and full of innocent joy. “are those for me?”

“who else would they be for?” hanma chuckles, snatching up the bouquet and chocolate, handing them to you. “happy valentine's day.” the words feel foreign, an inexperienced rasp to them as they leave his tongue.

he watches you hug the flowers to your chest, reading the label on the chocolate box, giggling as you notice your name carefully written in black marker on the pink ribbon tied around it. “it's not much,” he starts, but you don't let him continue. 

“i love them, shuji! these are my favourite kind of chocolate— and how did you know to pick these specific colours of roses, hm?” you raise an eyebrow, giggling even as you try to appear skeptical. “i bet kisaki taught you. you wouldn't know a thing about flower meanings.”

it's true — he didn't know. he'd asked kisaki for help himself. his little plant-loving genius of a friend had been delighted to oblige. “hey, don't be mean t’me now.”

“i love them, honey.” you smile, and hanma's heart flutters with the softness of your tone.

he knows you love him. you call him your honey, your sweetheart, your baby — as if he wasn't 6’4, tatted up and famous on the streets for being an on-and-off member of multiple gangs, a wild card and a lone reaper of souls that's never been defeated in a fight.

as if he wasn't quite terrible at giving you his love back. he stares again at his flowers and his measly box of chocolates, before glancing as discreetly as he could at all the bags you'd hung on his motorcycle's handlebar. “so, what's our plan?” he licks his lips. “we can go anywhere you want— name a place, i'll drive us there.”

“aren't you sweet,” you reach up to pinch his cheek. “hm, let's go to my favourite restaurant! you know the one. and after that we can drive around and head to the park you like. we can open the rest of your gifts there.”

fuck. “these all’re really for me?” he frowns at the bags — there are six of them, all tote bags in pretty pastel pinks and yellows.

“mhm.” you nod, utterly unaware of what you do to his heart. “i got you twenty presents!”

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the nape of his neck, puzzled. “why the fuck would ya do that, now?”

“buy you twenty presents?” you blink. “well, i was trying to get you something really meaningful, you know? something special. that's practical but also mmm, sexy — because that's the kind of thing you like.”

“and you had to buy twenty of these … practical and sexy presents.” hanma isn't convinced. 

you put the flowers and chocolate into one of the bags and climb onto the back of his motorcycle, rolling your eyes at him. “listen, shuji— i got a little carried away, alright? i'm nervous!”

nervous? you? he walks the few steps required to close the distance between you two once again. “hah?”

“mhm.” you grab at his stomach through his shirt and pinch, earning yourself from him a hiss of pain and a swat from his hand. “i'm nervous, because…” you smile, leaning in like you're telling him a secret. “i have to show you a good time—a little birdie told me this is your very first valentine's day date.”

hanma's embarrassment is evident as he tugs the scarf up his chin and turns his back to you, leaping onto the motorcycle and making it jolt, your panicked squeak and the way you grab at his jacket to steady yourself making him chuckle despite himself.

“hey!” you slap his shoulder, and he ignores you, twisting the keys into the ignition and revving his vehicle up instead. “shuji! you're mean.”

“‘m not.” he scoffs, backing up off the side of the rode and to the yellow line. “you're mean.”

he peeks at one of the mirrors and sees your pretty face twisted into a scowl, and his own face cracks into a smile. “you'd be a real sweetie if you told me the rest of the stuff you got f’me, though.”

“those are surprises.” your scowl lifts, as he pushes off the road with one foot and drives out into the street. you wrap your arms around his waist and press your body to his back, cheek against his shoulder as you let the wind into your hair and relax as he speeds up. “you can guess, though. so funny when you guess.”

“cause i never get anything fuckin' right?” he laughs, and then you laugh too, and hanma feels all warm and fuzzy again. god, he loves you. he loves you so much.

people would assume about a man like hanma, that he wouldn't settle for a first love. he would want experiences! he would want to taste love, passion, regret, heartbreak, unadulterated lust, the poisons and ambrosias of other people— but really, he thinks he can do just fine with just you.

he can do just fine with only your love, your presence, your warmth and your kisses from your lips his whole life. if he wants experiences, he'll have them with you.

“hey.” he says, half hoping his words get lost in the wind— but you hum in response anyway, so he continues. “i know i haven't even opened those presents yet, but thank you. alright? i really do appreciate it, baby.”

he laughs at the end, a little awkward, because fuck— he sounds so stupid when he tries to be serious and express something that isn't a joke.

then you kiss his shoulder, and he feels that warmth and fuzziness all over again. “of course. anything for you, shuji. i'll make sure you feel just how much i love you.”

and god, hanma just might fucking cry. his eyes sting, and he blinks the sensation away before it can build — but he still takes a little too long to reply, takes too long to swallow down the lump in his throat. “i love ya too.”

“shuji,” your voice is teasing, and he feels you tilt your face on his shoulder to look at him better. “you're tearing up, aren't you?”

“baby, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” he smiles anyway, because your laugh is beautiful, and when you push yourself up just a bit to place a quick kiss on his cheek, he turns his head just in time to make it a kiss on his lips. ”now stay put.”

note: inspired by an ask left to me by @vivianette. thank you for the idea, beloved<3 interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated!

[cr34tvr3]

My headcanons for creepy pastas

I needed to make this for a quotev quiz. It only has Jeff, Toby, Ben, EJ, Masky and Hoodie, because those are the results of the quiz, but I do have some of the other creepy pastas. If you want to see them ask and I'll post them.

Jeff-

-Blue eyes, shoulder lengths black hair, extremely pale, in my version he does have eyelids, because if he didn’t he’d be blind by now, he re-cuts his smile every time it starts healing. 

-Before the accident he was really emo

-I’m sure you can imagine

-Did not kill Liu, only attempted to, he was very close with his brother

-He’s very insane, but will sometimes have short spells of sanity, in which he’ll deeply regret what he did to his brother, but no one else, if they’ve never done anything for him, he doesn’t care about them

-His parents weren’t the nicest, they weren’t very loving, and if he or Liu did something wrong they’d get beaten, locked in their room or denied meals. His mother was manipulative and would gaslight them, Jeff especially, their father would go along with anything she said

-Most of the time violent, bloodthirsty and sadistic, you can imagine

-With you he’s different, more calculating, he can’t stand your innocence and purity, and he wants to ruin it

-He learned how to mess with people’s minds from how his mother treated him, he’ll be nice and sweet, and give you kisses and be all gentle, then he’ll punish you for some random thing

-He does love you, in his own twisted way, but he doesn’t really care how you feel, as long as you’re completely dependent on him

-He generally dislikes being touches, but if you give him a kiss, or hold his hand or something he’ll be pleased

Toby-

-Hazel eyes, pale, but sickly pale, he doesn’t go out in the day a lot, messy brown hair, he still chews his fingers, so they’re almost always bandaged

-He’s very closed off and cold with most people

-Has dark sense of humour, can be pretty obnoxious when he’s annoyed

-He likes nature, especially forests, he’ll often spend the night alone outside

-He doesn’t want to kill anyone innocent, but he obeys Slenderman because he saved him, but he has no problem with killing people he doesn’t like

-Unstable

-He loves you more than anything, he’ll do anything to make sure you aren’t hurt, even if it means tying you up and keeping you away from the world

-Brings you small gifts, like pinecones and pretty rocks

-He’ll never physically hurt you on purpose, he doesn’t want to be like his father, it hurts him when he sees you in pain

-Very touch starved, if you give him physical affection. And only you, mind, he’ll be so happy

-He wants to have kids with you

Ben-

-His real form, blond hair, red eyes, but not bleeding, Link outfit, the form he likes to be in, blond hair, blue/green eyes, normal clothes

-Definitely bi

-Crush on Link

-He has mostly the mind of an adult, even though his true form is a 12 year old, he likes to manifest in the form of a 16-19 year old, depending on who he’s with

-LOVES video games, all, not just Legend of Zelda

-Weeb, I don’t know, I can just see it

-He’s manipulative, and will use blackmail and threats to control you

-He will make sure you’re always in the exact state he wants

-He’ll punish you by electrocuting you, appearing in your house and tying you up, then doing things to you, and similar, if you do anything that displeases him

-Horny most of the time, he want you to touch him a lot

-If he’s in a good mood, he’ll get you to play video games with him, and punish you if you’re too bad

EJ-

-Brown hair, fluffy, REALLY tall, like 7’2, claws on his hands, he barely takes off his mask and will only do it if he’s eating or biting you or similar, he looks pretty much human under it, escort his tongues, his teeth are sharp and his skin is almost grey

-He’s angry

-At himself, at everything really, he thinks what happened to him was so UNFAIR

-He doesn’t want to love anyone

-He hates himself, thinks he’s hideous and demonic

-Will hurt you and scare you and try and make you break because he feels like it

-Won’t feel bad

-Really possessive though

-Will probably rape you at some point

Masky-

-Looks like he does in Marble Hornets

-Introverted, sarcastic, depressed, you know what I mean

-Hates himself

-Hates The Operator with passion, but is forced to obey him

-Doesn’t want to kill anyone

-He really does care about you, and feels bad whenever you’re upset

-Does small things for you, hoping you’ll notice 

-Plans to one day reveal himself to you, whether he’s allowed or not

-Seriously not a dick, people who makes him like that anger me

-Addicted to cigarettes

-Smokes weed

-Awful sleep schedule

-Tolerates Hoodie, but isn’t as close with him as he was before

Hoodie-

-Looks like he does in Marble Hornets

-Barely takes the black smiley thing mask off

-He probably sleeps with it on

-Very quiet, but not shy quiet, more like “fuck off I don’t want to talk” quiet

-Likes stalking

-Loyal to The Operator, since he brought him back to life, but doesn’t exactly like him

-Loves you, but will probably never reveal himself unless he’s allowed 

-Sits next to your bed at night, comforting you with his presence

-Kills anyone you don’t like

-Kills any guys you’re friends with who aren’t related to you (sorry)

[lalacliffthorne]

a party and kisses at midnight - a new years modern!batboys drabble. 🎀🪩

(last one for this year, my lovelies, as a little thank you. I can't even describe how happy you all make my lil heart by adoring these silly little drabbles and this AU as much as I do!! love you all to bits!!! *mwah*)

"Why is it so fucking cooold..." Feyre's teeth were chattering as she hopped up and down on the spot, her breath a white cloud in the air.

"Cause it's winter,", Mor supplied, very helpfully, her voice slightly muffled from where her top half had disappeared into the trunk of her car. I snorted softly, shivering against the harsh cold wind brushing against my legs as I shifted from one foot to the other, clutching the three bottles with glittery booze Mor had handed me against my chest.

"And he really does this every year?" Feyre crunched her nose as she looked up towards the lit windows on the third flow, the star in my window shining in the dark.

"Yeah." Mor resurfaced, hair slightly tousled but triumphantly holding the bottle that had decided to roll into the depths of her trunk after she had taken a rather sharp curve. "Last year, he actually threw the party at his dad's mansion, because he was out of town and Rhys had the sudden urge to be rebellious. It was a huge thing." She frowned. "How did you two miss that; the whole campus didn't talk about anything else for weeks."

I shrugged as she plucked a bottle out of my arms, tightening my freezing fingers. "We both spent Christmas at home, and then at New Years, we holed up in Feyre's apartment. We were in a severe food coma by midnight and didn't get out of bed before the next evening."

Feyre sighed happily, staring dramatically up into the sky. "The good old times."

I snorted and sent her a wide grin. "C'mon, you love the idea of an actual New Years party for a change." I raised my brows. "Rhys definitely put more effort into food than we usually do; he ordered some super fancy food and did some stuff himself, he basically spent the whole of yesterday in the kitchen and wouldn't let anyone peak."

"Also the view from the balcony is amazing at midnight!" Mor stretched to close the trunk of her car. "You can see all the fireworks from the neighborhood, and the ones down at the river."

"Why don't we go and see them there?" Feyre pouted.

"Because a) it's gonna be packed with severely drunk people, and b) like you just mentioned,", I climbed onto the sidewalk, bumping into her side and widening my eyes dramatically, "it's coooold!"

Feyre snickered. "Fuck off."

"In case it gets too busy; I locked my room so there are no hook ups on my clean sheets, we can hole up in there." I pushed open the front door with my shoulder. The stairwell was warm, and I could hear music vibrating from the third floor.

"Yeah, because your sheets are so innocent." Mor grinned when I tried to kick at her, easily dodging my heel and raising her brows. "From what I've heard, your sheets have seen their fair share of not so clean action -"

"Oh, fuck you,", I growled over Feyre's cackling, pressing my elbow into her back to keep her from tipping over backwards while trying to fight the heat in my cheeks and the grin pushing onto my face. Mor snickered and blew me a kiss, and I flipped her off as best as I could with my arms full before beginning to push Feyre towards the stairs.

"Seriously, I always wondered; how is Azriel in the bedroom -"

"Mor, shut up!", Feyre and I called in unison, Feyre laughing so hard, I had to shove her up the stairs. Shrugging, Mor followed, flashing me a grin.

"Just curious, you know; I've heard he's quite skilled, and I mean, it makes sense, the quiet ones are usually the ones who go hardest -"

"Oh my God." I dropped my forehead against Feyre's back as she stopped to hold onto the banister, giggling so violently, she started hiccuping.

"Okay, fine, I'll stop." Mor grinned. "But only because I don't want Feyre to fall down the stairs before she can get her midnight kiss from Rhys."

My best friend stopped laughing abruptly, and it was my turn to snort and cackle.

Feyre's cheeks glowed pink as she glared at Mor. "I don't -"

"Sure." Mor smirked and slipped past us, sending her a wink before sauntering up the stairs. Feyre glowered at her back, beginning to stomp after her, and giggling, I followed after both of them.

Up on the third floor, the music and noise made the floor vibrate.

"How do the neighbours don't complain every year?" Feyre widened her eyes slightly, readjusting the packages of snacks she was balancing in her arms with her chin.

"Probably used to the boys being loud." I smirked.

"I think Rhys always invites the people right below you, and the ones down on the first floor usually spend New Years somewhere else, so they don't really got anything to complain about." Mor knocked her elbow against the door. "And the old folks next door wouldn't even hear a whole football team tap dancing up the stairs, so -"

Feyre and I started giggling, and Mor grinned before widening her eyes when someone pulled the door open. "Thank God, I'm starving."

Following Feyre into the hall, I sighed happily at the warmth enveloping me as I kicked the door shut. Feyre peeled off her jacket before taking one of the bottles out of my arms, and I slipped out of my coat, squeezing it onto the overflowing coat hanger next to the door.

There were people filling the hall, the kitchen and crowding the living room; coworkers of Cassian's and friends of the boys from the gym, some of the guys Rhys played basketball with, people from uni and classes and a whole lot I didn't know. It was loud and full and smelled of stale air, perfume and food.

Mor, Feyre and I slipped past kitchen, where the Christmas decorations were still up and the counter had been transformed into a bar, with flashing lights, fancy glasses and streamers. Putting the glittering booze down, I followed after the other two into the living room. The tree was glittering, lametta draped over the branches after Cassian and I had taken down all the baubles this afternoon. Golden streamers were hanging over the shelves, ceilings and windows, along with big floating balloons. Cassian almost ran into one when he spotted us, starting to grin widely.

"Hey!" He ducked under some streamers and pressed kisses to Mor's and Feyre's cheeks, the latter clearly not used to his teddy bear behavior yet, before slinging an arm around my waist and lifting me off the ground slightly in a tight hug. When he let me slip to the ground again, he sent me a shit-eating smirk. "Look at you; you know, if Az isn't around at midnight, I'd totally -"

I kicked his shin the same moment someone behind me snorted, and as Cassian winced, an arm was dropped over my shoulders.

"If you think Az is not gonna make sure he gets his midnight kiss, you've inhaled too much glitter." Rhys' lazy smirk was audible in his voice when he leaned down his head a little. I pressed a kiss onto his offered cheek and called over the noise: "Where is he?"

Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again and smirking, nodding over my head, and turning around, I followed his gaze.

My heart dipped and swerved, and my breath hitched in my throat when over the heads of the crowd, I found golden amber eyes piercing mine.

Azriel was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. His shoulders strained against his simple black t-shirt, tattoos scattered over his arms, his dark hair tousled. He looked glowering as usual, not paying any attention to the people bustling around him, but some of his bored scowl slipped away as his eyes dragged over mine. Then he pushed off the wall and started moving through the crowd, towards us, people getting out of his way quickly. But he didn't even spare them a glance, just kept watching me, something warm and deep and twinkling growing in his eyes that caused my heart to begin fluttering quickly.

Rhys slid his arm from my shoulder and moved past me to greet Mor and Feyre, sending the latter a grin that caused her cheeks to grow pink even as she huffed, and Azriel pushed past him. Something rose into my throat as I tipped my head back to look up at him, parting my lips to drop a teasing remark about his outfit that didn't deviate from his usual fits in the slightest - but before I could even make a sound, Azriel dipped his head and kissed me.

A small sound broke from my chest at the firm press of his lips, my breath catching in my throat when I felt his hand slide up to my neck, and my heart swelled and pulsed under my ribs as my fingers curled into the soft cotton of Azriel's t-shirt and my knees turned to jello.

Azriel's lips curved upwards slightly against mine. I felt his tall, solid body press against mine, his calloused thumb gently tracing the line of my throat. Then Azriel slowly broke the kiss, his nose gently nudging mine as he pulled back his head just a little to stare down at me, his eyes golden in the warm pulsing lights. There was the slightest trace of a crease in his cheek, curtesy of a small smirk as he leaned down again to press a light kiss onto the corner of my lips.

"Hi." His deep voice vibrated through me, low and smooth, and I managed a breathless "Hello." that caused the crease in his cheek to deepen as he broke into a grin that was shit-eating enough to rival the one Cassian usually was sporting. I quickly pinched his side, no give to his muscles when he winced a little and glared at me.

"Hey, Az."

Cassian probably had a sixth sense for someone just remotely thinking of him, because he was smirking when Azriel straightened and turned enough so that I could peak past him, just in time to see the twinkle in Cassian's eyes when he sent me a light wink.

"I was just saying - Y/N looks too pretty to not be kissed at midnight; I'd volunteer if -"

Azriel scowled darkly, and I snorted a laugh and flipped Cassian the bird. He pretended to catch it, sending back a kiss and grinning widely, and Azriel rolled his eyes and turned back towards me with a shake of his head, but there was a light twinkle in his iris when he gently pushed me past him towards one of the armchairs.

"Okay, only fifteen minutes til midnight!" Rhys' loud voice echoed through the apartment, answered by whoops and cheers, and I grinned into my drink when I felt Azriel's chest vibrate with a huff.

I was tucked into his side in one of the armchairs, my legs draped over his lap and dangling over one of the armrests, his arm loosely wrapped around my back. His right hand was slowly running up and down my shin, his scarred skin warm through the thin pair of thights I was wearing, his thumb brushing over my knee once in a while. Mor and Feyre were lounging on the couch a little to my left, facing us, Cassian reclined lazily next to them as he grinned when Rhys moved past the coffee table.

They had kept coming and going, but Azriel and I had spent almost all of the past three hours in the same spot. Mor had dragged me up to dance twice, and I'd only let her because it meant I could stock up on snacks on my way back to where Azriel stayed lounging lazily in the big armchair, dark eyes calm and watchful on the people laughing and mingling and talking loudly around him. Everytime I returned, his legs parted slightly, and he shifted until I had plopped back down next to him before dragging my legs over his lap and stealing some of the food or a drink I was carrying. He looked perfectly comfortable, and no one dared bothering him, the glowering looks he sent Cassian and Rhys' way whenever they got too close warning enough to anyone else.

I had huddled up with Feyre in the kitchen for a while, curled up on one corner of the couch and giggling, and got pulled into conversations with her and Mor and the boys more than once. But I was always pulled back towards Azriel and the place squeezed into his side, talking quietly over the noise, Azriel's nose brushing my hair whenever he mumbled something into my ear, his lips curving into a light smirk whenever his words sent me into a fit of giggles. When I twisted to whisper into his ear, the scent of his cologne flooded my nose, and I could feel warmth wash over me.

It felt like we were in our own little bubble, comfortably curled up in the middle of the chaos, barely even noticing the people around us whenever the others disappeared into the crowd again.

"Let's go outside so we get a good place on the balcony!" A coat was thrown at me, nearly landing on my head, and I jumped, my eyes darting up to glower at Rhys, but he just winked before tossing Azriel his jacket.

Sighing and grumbling, I laborously dug myself out of the armchair. I could feel Azriel's chest brush my back when he rose to his feet, towering over me, his calloused fingers gently pulling my hair out of the way when I slipped into my coat, then he slid into his jacket.

Wrapping the thick scarf Feyre had gifted me last Christmas around my neck, I shivered happily as I buried myself in my coat, feeling Azriel's warm fingers sliding over my palm. My heart rose when they slipped into the spaces between mine, linking them together firmly, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. Then his biceps gently bumped into my shoulder, pushing me over to the window doors leading out onto the balcony.

The air was freezing, our breath rising in white clouds when we stepped onto the balcony. The fairy lights wrapped around the balcony were glowing in a warm golden light, just like the bushes in the huge stone pots when we huddled against the stone balustrade. Mor's teeth were chattering dramatically as she slightly swayed on the spot, and Feyre's nose was pink when she huffed at something Rhys mumbled, but I could see the way she hid a wide beaming smile in her scarf. Rhys was staring at the side of her face.

There was a gentle huff against my hair, and when I looked up over my shoulder, Azriel's chest pressed into my back, his hands sliding into my pockets to link our fingers. His eyes were on Rhys and Feyre as well, and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he watched his best friend stare at mine.

Feeling my heart rise and a giddy giggle pulse under my ribs, I turned back ahead, flashing Cassian a grin over Mor's head. He winked back, his wide smile causing his cheeks to crease.

Slowly, the others joined us on the balcony and at the windows. When I heard the door down on the street, I leaned forward to look over the balustrade and saw that some people had decided to watch the fireworks of the neighbourhood from down in the garden.

Rhys kept looking on his watch, counting down the time. Azriel wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head as I played with his fingers, leaning back into his solid chest and feeling something thrum against my ribs. Mor disappeared back into the flat for a minute and returned with some glasses filled with sparkling, bubbling drinks she placed on the broad balustrade in front of us. I shivered in excitement, shifting giddily in the spot as Rhys started counting down the seconds to midnight.

The people around us started joining in until everyone was counting. I felt my heart rise and flutter as a stupidly wide grin spread over my face, Mor bumping her shoulder into mine and Feyre hopping around giddily on the spot.

"Four!"

Mor giggled and leaned forward to press a smacking kiss onto my cheek before looping her arm through Cassian´s, hitting his stomach so forcefully in excitement, he actually coughed a little.

"Three!"

Feyre squeezed my arm and beamed at me, and I caught a glimpse at Rhys on her other side, staring down at her like he was trying to make a decision.

"Two!"

I breathed out and closed my eyes, feeling heat in my cheeks despite the cold and the pulsing thrum of my heart against my ribs and the warmth blooming in my chest growing bigger and bigger.

"One!"

Azriel's hands slipped out of mine, his chest pressing into my back as his arm slid around my waist and turned me around, and as everyone yelled "Happy New Year!", Azriel's hands slipped up to cradle my face, and he leaned down and kissed me.

My heart rose in a wild flutter, and I slid my hands under his coat, his chest curving into mine as Azriel kissed me, deep and heated and all-consuming, his tongue twisting with mine as a soft sound broke from his chest, and I clung to him, feeling the thrum in my chest explode like the fireworks over us in the sky, showering my body in golden glittering sparkles until it felt like I was floating, my heart rising until I couldn't breathe.

I could hear whoops and jeers all around, a little far away and like slow motion, felt Azriel's calloused fingers cradling my face and the slight shudder in his breath when his nose dragged over mine. Then he kissed me again, his hands sliding down as my arms wrapped around his neck and my body curved into his as his hands pressed against my back, and I felt something begin to pulse against my ribs.

"Happy New Year,", Azriel mumbled against my lips, his deep, hoarse voice causing a shudder to run down my spine, and I clung to him, feeling a ridiculously wide smile slowly spreading over my face.

"Happy New Year."

Azriel's nose nudged mine, and his eyes, dark and molten, pierced mine. Then he dipped his head and mumbled into my ear: "C'mon."

My breath hitched, and my heart rose into my throat when his hand slipped under my coat and pushed me past him, through the crowd towards the doors leading inside.

I could feel him in my back, towering over me as we slipped through the people cheering and toasting in the living room. Something was thrumming against my ribs, twisting in my stomach when Azriel unlocked the door to his door and I moved past him, turning and feeling my heart beginning to flutter against my ribs when Az closed the door. The lock clicked, and Azriel slid out of his jacket, stepping towards me. His warm, calloused hands slipped under my scarf, his fingers tracing up my neck as he unwrapped it slowly. Dropping it to the floor, he dipped his head, his nose brushing against mine as the noise outside grew, mixing with the muffled crashing of fireworks.

The pulsing feeling in my chest turned into a hurricane, and Azriel slipped his hands to the back of my neck and kissed me, deep and hard and unhurried. Then he pushed my coat off my shoulders and leaned down, sliding his arm under my backside and lifting me off the ground.

When an hour later, we slipped back into the living room, the bass was making the floor vibrate, people were cheering and dancing, and Cassian, lounging on the couch, hollered while Rhys whistled, but Azriel just rolled his eyes. They couldn't see the scratch marks on his shoulders beneath the crumpled material of his t-shirt, or the love bites littering my skin underneath my dress, but swollen lips and messy hair and the way Azriel's hand slipped under the seam of my dress when he pulled me into his lap were enough.

Enough for Cassian to smirk and Rhys to chuckle and for Mor to wiggle her brows when she dragged me to my feet only seconds later, pulling me with her towards Feyre, the both of them cackling. Flipping them off, I let them pull me towards the people dancing and looked over my shoulder, and my heart rose when for a second, my eyes found Azriel's through the crowd, watching me, his eyes molten and deep, swirling with something that made my breath hitch.

I blinked, then I slowly started to smile, bright and cheeky, before sending him a wink, and I saw the huffed laugh leaving him, something dipping in my stomach when I turned around with a beaming smile.

The flat stayed filled with people until well into the morning. I was pulled into the crowd again and again, and yet - no matter how long I danced with Mor and Feyre, played beer pong with Cassian or mixed drinks with Rhys that were so bad, he declared us unfit to ever to do it again - I always ended back in the corner of the couch, with the scent of cedar and darkness filling my lungs, an arm wrapped around me and a deep, low voice mumbling into my ear, light kisses pressed against my neck and a scarred hand wrapped around my knee.

And by the time Mor and Feyre crashed in my bed and Cassian had dozed off on the couch and Rhys let the door fall shut behind the last people, groaning happily, I was already fast asleep, wearing only a t-shirt that smelled like home, curled up against a warm, solid chest, leg thrown over a bare hip and nose pressed into warm skin as Azriel slid his arms tighter around me, dragging me up and further into his body as his tall form curled around me and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123

[wri0thesley]

hopeless romantic - percy (yandere demon oc) x reader (4.6k)

valentine's day has snuck up on you. somehow you don't think this one is going to be as pleasant as last year's.

cw: this is primarily a horror work. kidnapped reader, captive reader, mental torture. food warning, claustrophobia. mentions of (non-explicit): insects, emetophobia, dental trauma. general hopelessness and manipulation. REALLY fuck this guy!

a/n: for a very quick primer on percy, please read this, and/or see this!

(also i mentioned this last time i wrote something for lucas but getting a commission for one of my own ocs is so WILDLY exciting and flattering. waaah!!!)

this was a commissioned work.

You didn’t consider yourself a hopeless romantic. 

Perhaps you consider yourself a bit of a romantic, in that you’d always enjoyed a classic love story; re-read your copy of Pride and Prejudice until it had fallen apart, had occasional daydreams of handsome suitors and the swirl of a masquerade ball, had perhaps watched Labyrinth too often as a young woman and wondered ‘what if’ about the Goblin King and his domain--

But you had thought you knew enough not to expect fiction from real life. No balls for you; no impassioned declarations of love soaked to the bone, no royal promising he would move the world for you if only you asked. You had thought you would be content with a bouquet of flowers - a smile, a squeeze of the hand whilst watching a romantic comedy, a kiss goodnight that was a little awkward with a clash of teeth and tongue. That was the kind of life, you told yourself, that waited for an average person like you - and that, too, would be enough. Because companionship would be enough; somebody to walk through life with, somebody who understood you, somebody who would cuddle up to you at night. 

And then you had met Percy. 

You hadn’t been able to believe your luck. 

A man almost exactly like you’d imagined? Someone who held the door open for you and smiled so softly it made you ache, who would sit with you and talk about books and whatever else passed through your minds for as long as you wanted? Always seeming to know what to say, always there for you - he’d brought you a bouquet of roses for your first date, for God’s sake. And though you’d been anxious about the ostentation of them, holding them at the restaurant, the way people seemed to be staring at you from every table . . . you had bit back the nervousness and given him a shaking smile and let yourself be swept off your feet. 

You wish that you’d seen the signs then. 

Maybe you had? Maybe you’d noticed them all and simply let them roll off of you instead, water off a duck’s back, because if you let Percy go you’d surely never find anyone like him again? And they had seemed such little things, too. Waiting just a fraction of a moment too long to comfort you when you were frightened or anxious - almost as if he was letting the moment shimmer in the air, develop as far as he could. Always being awake after you’d had a nightmare (you’d bought the chronic insomnia excuse at the time, but . . . surely someone who never seemed to sleep should be more tired than Percy ever seemed to be?). Nightmares, coincidentally, you don’t remember having so vividly or so regularly before you met Percy-- 

“Hey,” he’d murmured, soothing you, pulling you into him, warm hands rubbing up and down your back as he’d whispered sweet nothings into your hair. “Shh, sweetie. Just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.”

And those nightmares - the ones where you thought you’d woken up, eyes as wide as saucers, body pinned to the bed by some unknown force . . . and slowly, slowly, the creature of spindle limbs and glowing eyes and sharp bright teeth had crept into your view, sharp fingernails running over the duvet and the blankets, Percy’s presence beside you in the nightmare non-existent--

You curl your body around yourself on the hard wooden floor; there’s a bed, in the corner of the room, but you preferred nowadays to stave off sleep for as long as you could. 

Looking back on it, you think you should have known. Should have run for the hills - your friends had loved him at first, citing his warm smile and the way he treated you like a princess . . . but before you knew it, your friends had dropped away, because you were spending all of your time with him instead. If you still had your cell phone . . . how long had it been since you spoke to your best friend? What was the last thing you said to her? 

Your stomach rolls uncomfortably as you think about how it was probably something about Percy. 

You were such a fool. 

You pull yourself off the bed, your body aching with the effort of it. You don’t get much exercise nowadays; this little room, with a bed and a desk and no windows and the strange sigils scrawled on the floor in paint (definitely paint, you tell yourself fiercely, though it shines strangely when the light hits it and is a dark, dried out red that makes your stomach roll) is all of the space you have. You can stride from one wall to another in fifteen paces. Thirty floorboards. 

You’ve counted all of these. 

You lower yourself onto the chair by the desk, your back crying out in pain. Even if you had been sleeping properly on the bed, it was hardly comfortable - and when one is as racked with nightmares as you are, tossing and turning and twisting and begging . . . Well. No wonder you hurt so much. 

You tread carefully. You have seen this room become a thousand things; have seen a dark pit open up in the middle of the sigil and all manner of creatures crawl out of it, crowding up to you with gaping maws and blood-shining teeth and great pits of eyes. Spiders. Bugs. Screaming. Three days when all of the light in the entire room - your entire existence - had gone from the world, and you had fumbled and stumbled around the room without direction. 

(Into Percy, a couple of times, who had laughed and held you tight and whispered sweet nothings into your ear that might have been romantic, once upon a time, but now just lilted with mockery. 

“Oh,” he’d murmured, soft and silky against your ear. “Poor thing. Are you scared of the dark?”

You had not thought yourself scared of the dark - but until those three days, you suppose, you had not known what the dark was. Had not known it could settle so thick and heavy like covering your entire world with ink; had not known it would muffle everything else so completely. Percy had kissed you demanding and hungry in the middle of the nothingness and you had hated yourself as you’d clung to his shirt in between the kisses and begged him not to leave you there. 

He had, of course). 

There is one other thing you’ve counted. 

As best you can, anyway; it’s hard to keep real track when Percy’s comings and goings can be so sporadic. He remembers to feed you, you think, most days - but with no window, no way to tell the time truly . . . days can blur into one another. And so, though you think it’s February, you wouldn’t have known for sure that it was the thirteenth of February, unless--

“Friday the thirteenth,” Percy had hummed, that what-might-have-been-morning, as he’d held you softly in his arms as you writhed and whimpered, the walls closing in on you. It’s a dirty trick, what Percy can do, you think; the hallucinations, the untruths . . . interspersed with the truth, just so you never quite know what is real or not. You’d known in some primal part of you that this one had to be one of the tricks - walls do not really cave in on you, you are not living in some ancient Egyptian-themed action movie where walls are booby-trapped to crush you into tiny pieces - but when the threat of death looms over you in such a way, you suppose that your mind cannot truly be reasoned with. 

You hadn’t thought you were claustrophobic before this, coincidentally. It’s amazing how Percy can somehow bring out fears you didn’t know you had. 

The times he uses whatever power he possesses to play with you like a spider with a fly trapped in its web are preferable. At least, you think, probing tenderly with your tongue the spot at the back of your mouth where you used to have a molar before Percy had shown you the glint of pliers and murmured for you to ‘be still now, sweetie, or it will hurt more - oh, don’t tremble like that, you’re making it awfully hard to concentrate--’. 

“February,” you’d told him, and he’d laughed. 

“Yes,” he’d said. “Valentine’s Day tomorrow, then? I’ll have to think of something special for us.” 

The very words had sent a tingling shudder down your spine. You hadn’t bothered smiling for him - for someone who had gotten you where you were with a faux tilt of his eyebrows, with pretty lies wrapped in sugar, with promises he never intended to keep . . . he doesn’t like artifice. He’d told you, that first night you had found yourself bound and gagged and trapped, that he had never found you so pretty - and then he’d smiled at you and pinched your cheek hard enough to bruise and promised you that you were going to be wearing that expression rather a lot. 

He’d been right. 

The fear of what he was going to do must have crackled in the air; Percy’s eyes had gone half-lidded and he’d sighed, pleased, before he’d pressed a kiss onto your forehead and let the walls recede back to where they were supposed to be. 

“Something very special,” he’d said, letting go of you; watching, amused, as you’d scrambled away from him. 

You’d tried to ingratiate yourself to him at first; had tried to be well-behaved, not to snap and fight back at him, in the hope it would make him ease up. You’d learnt very quickly that there was no point in doing such a thing; it doesn’t matter if you struggle. Percy will treat you the same either way. 

If anything, the outright shows of fear - the proof that you’re terrified of him - seem to please him more. The more scared you get the quicker, the sooner he usually ends the torment. 

Unfortunately, that’s not exactly something you can pretend. Not with a man - a thing - that can sense your emotions on the air, that hungers for the terror that runs cold through your veins. You can pretend to shudder all you want - and you’d tried - but Percy just clicks his tongue and pulls you back to him and murmurs; “Well. That’s not going to do, is it?”

So he leaves you, that Friday the thirteenth of February, to stew in the fear of what a Valentine’s Day with a demon might entail. 

You and Percy had begun to date, officially, at the beginning of January after meeting at a friend’s New Year party. Neither of you big drinkers (as it turns out, stimulants like alcohol have very little effect on a creature like Percy, but you had not known that at the time), you had found yourself feeling frazzled and frightened by all of the new people and the laughter and the whirling out-of-control dancing, and had been hiding out in that friend’s cloakroom amongst other people’s coats with a book you’d smuggled in in the pocket of your dress. Percy had found you there.

You know now you must have been a buffet; perhaps the most scared thing in the whole room, your anxiety leading him directly to you and setting your life on track for . . . this. But at the time he had recognised the battered old paperback in your hand and been all-too-eager to talk to you about it, smile on his face, his voice kind. You had thought him handsome - and when he’d told you he owned a bookstore, you think you fell in love a little bit right there and then. You’d shared a kiss at midnight and been found afterwards by the mutual friend who had invited you, who had effusively shared praise of the man - he’s magic, she’d promised, cured my insomnia with nothing more than a tea blend! Gave her a couple of nightmares for a few nights, but after that - poof! - and you had really thought . . . 

You had really looked at Percival Thacker and thought; oh. There he is. 

So of course, this wouldn’t be your first Valentine’s Day. 

Your last Valentine’s Day, Percy had gone all-out for - after you’d admitted to him that you couldn’t afford much, that you hadn’t been dating that long, that you were nervous about it . . . He’d told you earnestly that he simply liked you so much, afterwards, and he’d wanted to show it - but of course, now you know his true nature, you know that the shame that must have come off of you in waves and the fear that he thought you cheap and the nervousness that you could not match his energy must have all been a veritable feast for him. 

The gift of hindsight, you suppose. 

So you see, you had a point of reference for what a Valentine’s Day with somebody you thought you might love would be like; you had that thought of roses and a fancy dinner and a trip to the ballet and a first edition of your favourite book. That’s what you’d thought a Valentine’s with Percy would be like, perhaps for the rest of your life. 

And then he had shown himself to you, in all of his true colours, and there had been far more pressing concerns than making sure you remembered to budget enough to at least buy him a card. 

But what he might do, now, as a ‘Valentine’s Gift’ . . . knowing how much he likes you crying, whimpering, begging and frightened out of your skull . . . the very thought of it makes you want to bury your head into the thin pillow and sleep the day away entirely. What a pity that he’s just as capable of getting to you whilst you’re sleeping as he is anywhere else. 

You know that you’re feeding into what he wants by agonising over it; that he can probably feel your anxiety over what is going to happen to you from everywhere in the house, the force of it is so strong. But you simply cannot help yourself. Considering he’d been the first to admit, easy and smiling as ever, that his greatest flaw was a tendency towards laziness, he’s been ever-inventive when it comes to ways to make you feel like you’re going to die of a fear-induced heart attack. 

The whole day, you feel yourself hovering on a precipice; your throat ready to close up at a moment’s notice, your entire psyche balanced on a fragile tightrope ready to snap. Every tiny sound from somewhere in the house makes you jump, sets you on edge, straining for the sound of Percy’s footfalls. The house is not always so noisy, of course - it bends to whatever Percy wants. Sometimes you wonder if this little room is even a part of the cramped little townhouse Percy lives in at all, or if it does not exist in some other dimension - but you are not permitted to step foot outside of it, so it does not really matter. 

You even toy with the idea he’s going to do nothing. He’s going to let you stay here, stewing in might-have-beens and maybes, instead of letting it all build to a crescendo. 

When you do hear his feet on the floorboards, the click of a lock . . . you scold yourself for thinking that at all. Such an outcome would have been far too kind for Percy. 

He walks into the room with a smile on his face. You do not often see him without it; that soft-eyed, careful smile that had so enchanted you at first but has seemed to grow more and more mocking the more often he has used it as a weapon. The door clicks closed behind him, and though he does not touch the handle you hear the noise of locks clacking shut, one by one. Even if you tried to run - to overpower him and go for the door - you know that it would not open for you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says to you, with that mocking smile you hate so much. He makes a great show of looking around the room; the bare walls, the floorboards, this prison cell of a home that he has engineered to be your own personal hell. “Oh, this isn’t going to do at all.” 

You’d had some thoughts about the idea of magic, before all of this. You’d always hoped it existed in some capacity - the problem, you suppose, with being a voracious reader and a fantasist - but whenever you had thought of it, you’d thought . . . Wands, or snapping fingers, or little incantations. Percy moves the world around him without blinking; the only feeling you get after he exerts himself to use a little of his power is a faint sickness in the pit of your stomach, the taste of iron lingering in the back of your throat. 

And then there is a little table in the middle of your room; two chairs, and a tablecloth, and silverware glinting in the light. 

“Well?” He asks, and your head bounces from the table and around to face him. In his arms, once more are a bouquet of roses - and you could cry, you could vomit, you could tear him into pieces. You recognise the soft rose hue of the tablecloth; the design of the chairs, the centrepiece in the middle of the table and the dozen red roses that Percy holds in his arms. “I thought we had such a wonderful time last year . . . we can’t quite replicate it, but I’ll do my best.”

It is exactly the same as last year - if last year’s Valentine’s had taken place in a jail cell. He takes your hand and guides you none-too-gently to the table in the middle of the room (it looks silly, there; the prison you call your life is too small for the ostentatious chairs and the dining table). Your eyes frantically scan over the chair and the table, just to ensure there are no secrets lying in wait there. 

(A scorpion, ready to crawl from underneath a plate. Rotting meat, ready to give you the worst attack of emetophobia you’ve had in your life. Some kind of venomous spider on the chair, waiting to bite you and paralyse you and have its poison destroy you from the inside out). 

You take your seat at the table - and nothing happens. You watch Percy warily as he takes his own seat, as he gently places the bouquet to one side - you’d been so rattled to see it, you realise, you hadn’t even taken it from his arms. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. Simply sighs and stretches, looking around your little bare room as if it is the restaurant you two were in only one year ago. 

“I didn’t think we’d need a menu,” he tells you, with a small smile. “I thought we’d simply have everything we had last time.” 

He’d ordered for you, last time - you’d felt so overwhelmed at the restaurant he’d made reservations at, by the class of people around you and the glimpse of the prices on the wine menu, that you’d been glad of it. Looking back, you know he did that on purpose - but at the time, you had only been able to gush about how generous he was. 

There is no waiter to bring your food. There’s that iron again, the tang in the back of your throat - and then the plate of appetisers is before you, your glass full of viscous red wine. It looks far too much like blood, now, for you to want to drink it. 

Through every course, you wait for the sting. 

This cannot be all of it. There must be something more; something hiding behind the sighs of pleasure that Percy makes and the attempts to call back to conversations you’d had. He doesn’t seem to mind you have very little to say in return - he’s happy to talk about how his cat is doing, how the bookshop is faring under this cost of living crisis, a new book he bought last week and is enjoying--

But nothing comes. Nothing happens. For all intents and purposes, the two of you are simply reliving your first Valentine’s date - only this time, in a windowless room, after your boyfriend has kept you captive for months and brought you to the brink of death and manipulated you and used you and hurt you--

The food looks exactly the same on the plate; beautifully presented, and delicious. Your stomach rumbles in hunger, but the thought of what still might come flashes through your mind.

You can’t bring yourself to eat a thing.

“My compliments to the chef,” Percy chuckles, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “A pity you’ve barely eaten anything.”

“I’m not hungry,” you whisper, into the air between you, and Percy gives you a sympathetic look. How could you be hungry, when you’d feared everything you might put on your fork would turn to ashes or organs or worse in your mouth? When you’d spent the entire meal wondering about what he was going to do next, what he was going to say next?

He clicks his tongue, tutting at you sympathetically.

“Poor thing,” he says, voice dropping with that faux sympathy. “We can’t have you losing your strength, now. I’ll make sure you have your favourite tomorrow - just to see if we can tempt you into eating.” He leans forward, catching your chin in his hand, still smiling. “I’d hate for you to waste away into nothing.”

This close, you can see the slitted pupils of his eyes, and you know he must feel the way that you swallow. You’re so vulnerable like this - he could do anything to you, use this moment to break you in any way he chooses. 

The moment passes. He lets go of you. 

“Well,” he says, “that was pleasant, wasn’t it?” He sees you staring, helpless, and laughs. “Oh, sweetie. Did you think I would hurt you on Valentine’s Day? When you know how much I adore you? How I couldn’t bear to be without you?”

“It’s never stopped you before,” you whisper to him, a quiet, barbed little thing - and Percy lets you say it, and then throws his head back and laughs. 

“Ah,” he says, “but I’m absolutely stuffed. You’re a meal all on your own. You’ve been terrified of what I might do the whole time! Anything else would have just been greed, I fear.”

You look up at him, barely daring to believe it. He’s really just going to leave? He’s going to take what he did from the meal, from the trembling edge of fear you’ve felt all day, and simply . . . let you think that was enough? 

“Th-that’s it?” You ask, hating how small your voice sounds. You clench your fists atop the table cloth, the few bites of food that you did manage to get down churning in your stomach. 

Percy tilts his head to the side, and then laughs again. 

“How silly of me,” he says, and your throat constricts. “No, no. I have another present for you. I almost forgot!”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, crumpled, folded over and over. He unfolds it for you, and you see that it is a sheet torn from a newspaper - his smile does not budge as he leans over and places it before you on the table. 

You take a moment before you look down at it. You don’t know what it would be, after all; and it would not be the first time something that has seemed perfectly harmless has turned out to be anything of the sort. Percy waits, patiently, and you finally bring yourself to look down and read the small, cramped letters. 

That’s a photograph of you. 

You stare up from the page, caught in mid-laugh, your dark hair blowing across your face. In the background is a sunny day at the park; it takes a moment for you to remember it being taken. It takes a while, now, to remember you had a life before these four walls. 

There are other photos of you, too. One with your family. A baby photo, posed perfectly in a photographer’s studio. A picture of your graduating class, with you circled--

Your eyes scan desperately over the words. You can’t quite take it in. You try to read it properly, but your vision skims and sputters and spots, and only certain phrases make it through the haze of terror and confusion that you feel descending over you. 

‘Missing for eight months’ . . . ‘Every effort has been made to locate her’ . . .‘Family have called off the search’ . . . ‘Presumed dead’ . . . ‘Memorial service to be announced’ . . .

That’s it. 

They have been looking for you - apparently in all the wrong places. There’s something about a forest being combed over, a river being strained for a body. No mention of a townhouse owned by your boyfriend. No mention of a boyfriend at all. 

They’ve been looking for you, and now they’re not. They’ve thrown you to one side; they’ve said ‘that’s enough, we’d rather just act as though she’s dead’. There’s nobody coming to save you. 

You hadn’t realised how much the idea that someone might find you, that you could go back to your normal life one day, that people were out there looking for you had sustained you until you’d read in stark black and white that it wasn’t going to happen.

The future that stretches out in front of you now is simply Percy, and these four walls, and what it feels like to be afraid.

“Why do you look so frightened?” Percy asks, as you sit there, trembling. The table and the chairs and the remains of the dinner fade to nothing around you, and your legs buckle - before you know it, you are knock-kneed and awkward on those awful floorboards, the sheet of newspaper still crumpled in your hands. You can’t breathe. 

Any hope of escape, any hope someone was looking for you, any thoughts that perhaps they’d find Percy’s little house and break it open until they found your prison cell - gone, like that. Nothing to think about. No hope to cling to. 

And he’d called it a present!

He kneels down before you, reaching out - and his arms are wrapping around you, pulling you closer, holding you against him with a grip like a vice. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he murmurs, against the top of your head, as the tears refuse to fall and the certainty that you are either going to be stuck here until you die, or until he wrings you dry, washes over you. “Isn’t it good news?” 

A kiss. From out of the corner of your eye, you see the red roses he had brought you; they’re on the floor now that the table and chair have been removed. A fat spider crawls from the inside of one of the roses, inching closer and closer to you both. Percy croons softly into your ear, fingers running through your hair. 

Is there a point, you wonder, where you will stop being afraid? Where all of this will become background noise, and you’ll be a useless shell of a person? Because at this moment, with the thought of who-knows-how-long stretching on in front of you and all of the things that Percy could do to you, all of the ways he could fuck with your mind and your heart and everything in between--

You think that perhaps being a shell would be better. Percy clucks, rocking you against him like he’s trying to soothe the fear out of you, though both of you know it is the opposite--

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it? We get to have the rest of your life together.”

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

So. Predatory species Obi-wan.

Mostly I just think it's funny to make him a predator bc if you take all the SW character and go "which one looks more likely to eat someone" Obi-Wan would definitely not be it. Not even top 20. He's much more likely to deliver a devastating burn with a flat tone lmao but anyway!

Specifically, Obi-wan being from a species who's pretty damn known for eating people. Like, it's not the only thing they can eat but a...... Something big happened a while ago and the galaxy never really forgot. Nowadays Stewjoni people don't really eat anyone but it's.... Mostly because they don't leave their planet. The predatory instincts are definitely here (Quinlan wears proof of that because once when they were teenagers he made the mistake of pissing obi-wan off and letting his finger wander a bit too close and long story short, Obi-wan bit him so hard he severed Quinlan's finger and they had to go to a healer really fast. Obi-wan felt super guilty for a while but Quinlan annoyed him into forgiving himself. Nowadays he's more embarassed that he lost control so bad. Quinlan thinks it was hilarious and that he definitely expected to get bitten but he didn't expect the result.)

Mostly the instincts are just Obi-wan really wanting to bite people when they're annoying and maybe wanting to chase people if they turn their back to him and run. Also headbutting people to show affection, which became a Whole Thing™ when he was on Mandalore. He doesn't really thinks about how people would taste until he's hungry and he's really good at controlling himself.

But basically this whole thing came from an idea I had with Alpha-17!

Basically it's like. Obi-wan being a predatory species is a bit of a secret bc like.... It's not like he'd be killed if people knew but Stewjoni still have a really bad reputation. So he doesn't like to talk about it. And people don't really know because he looks so mild-mannered and he smiles with his mouth closed so you can't see the teeth and he hides his hands in his sleeves because otherwise he picks at his skin which is not good when one has claws.

Okay so the clones don't know Obi-wan is from a predatory species. He's not hiding it, but when the clones see him headbutt Anakin like an affectionate Tooka they either go "maybe that's a nat-born thing" or "maybe that's a Jedi thing" or "makes sense, my batch mate like keldabe kisses too". Due to their childhood they have literally no idea of what is Normal Human Behavior so they don't notice that Obi-Wan isn't human.

Point is, Obi-wan and Alpha-17 get captured by Ventress and she tries to sow discord by being all "how can you trust a predator ? Unless you didn't know what he was? Then how can you trust something that hides what it is" basically she's just trying to get Alpha to distrust Obi-wan so he won't try to help him escape.

Obi-Wan's kind of expecting.... Not fear, exactly. Alpha-17 sort of doesn't do fear. But he's expecting some agressivity at least. Some wariness.

Except Alpha is just mostly outraged. How come Kenobi, who won't even kill a few annoying senators, gets the biological advantages that comes with being a predator?? That's so unfair. This idiot wouldn't even think about eating anyone. Alpha could use the biology way better! He would have loved to be able to eat a few kaminoans!! That's fucking unfair. How come his Jedi gets sharp fangs and he doesn't?? UN. FAIR.

Lmao yeah the whole plot is basically just Alpha-17 being offended that his pacifist of a general won the genetic lottery while he (who would have used the fangs as they're meant to be used!!) didn't. Boo.

(Obi-wan is wondering why Alpha-17 and Anakin don't get along better because they have startlingly similar reactions to learning about his species)