#today is slimy bad guy

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

-_- good morning

[aroacewxs]

i can slowly feel the yttd brainworms eating up my mind

[autism-corner]

waugh

[princessbrunette]

bountyhunter!rafe finally trusted you to sit behind him on the horse. he knew you weren’t going to jump off and take off. where would you go? you were in the middle of nowhere.

for a while you were lethargic, cheek pressed to rafe’s warm back with the only sound for a long time being the clip-clopping of horse shoes on the desert sand. you had a hat balanced on your head today. one like the ones rafe wore, all cowboyish. he said he wouldn’t be able to deal with you getting all sick from the sun. after a while, rafe breaks the silence — which is surprising, because usually he’s too grumpy to converse.

“collectin’ another bounty today… by the way.” he informs you, and you lift your head, glancing at the small town appearing on the horizon before you.

“hm?”

“yeah uh, some chick. ‘bout your age. apparently shes been stickin’ her nose where it doesn’t belong so uh, yeah. gotta hand her off to some outlaw.” he shrugs, focused on what’s infront of him. an unfamiliar and grotesque feeling slides down from your chest and settles in your stomach. a girl. your age.

“why have you gotta do that? you don’t need to be catching more bounties. where’s she gonna go anyway? there’s no more room on the horse.” you huff, still a little disorientated from being in and out of a nap against rafe’s back.

“we��re not going anywhere on the horse, kid. she’s up in this town here. did some real bad stuff, i’m talkin’ real slimy criminal shit. gonna hold her up in a motel with me ‘til the guy comes n’gets her. i’ll get my pay and — and don’t worry alright, you’re not gonna be in any danger you’ll be waiting in the diner across the street so… it’s fine.” he sounds a little irritated to be explaining it all to you. the thought of him in a motel alone with this girl pushed some immature feelings to the surface, some that you weren’t proud of.

“what do you need more money for?” you’re getting whiny now and you see his jaw clench.

“you think it’s cheap draggin’ you from town to town? paying for— for your little motel trips and food? no. i gotta take care of us ‘cause you’re no good for any of that.” he lectures you, and you dig your fingernails into the saddle.

“you don’t need her! find someone else.” you raise your voice a little, and surprisingly— rafe doesn’t say a thing. however, the silence does little to soothe you. in a moment, he arrives to a fence and jumps off before yanking you down and ropes up his horse to the wooden panel, planning on leaving it there for the day with the trough and bowl of water nearby. when he’s set the horse up, he turns back to you — looking at you like he’d just noticed you were there as he walks right up to you, wiping his hands on his jeans. leaning down to your height, he speaks more quietly with a pissed off edge to his voice.

“i’on wanna hear any more jealous tantrums today, a’ight? i’m doin’ this — for, for— hey—” when you look away shamefully with a pout he grips your jaw and turns you back to look at him. “i’m doin’ this for us. for you. alright so… so you should be thanking me if anything.” he blinks grouchily before letting go and swaggering past you, assuming you’d follow. you did.

you sat in that diner for hours. he’d set you up with a platter of buttered waffles and grits and sausages— all things that were considered a luxury when travelling out on the open desert. he’d taken one more glance at your sad little face peering up at him before heading out the door, with no more than a demand not to talk or look at anyone whilst he’s gone. it was a risk leaving you there, you both knew it — but some things just had to be done. it was more of a risk to take you with him anyway.

you felt all sick and anxious the whole time he was gone. not just because you were on your own surrounded by strangers and mysterious cowboys, but because you couldn’t stop imagining rafe in there with that girl. a motel room. you wondered if they both sat on the bed together. whether they talked, shared experiences. maybe he showed a bit of remorse to her, like he did with you. she was a criminal after all, just like him — perhaps he’ll decide she’s a more worthy partner to travel with, now that he’d decided to keep you all to himself instead of handing you off. maybe they’ll kiss. maybe he won’t come back to get you.

your spiralling thoughts are interrupted by rafe arriving back at your side hours later. he glances at the plate of untouched food and presses his lips together, about to tell you off for wasting his money. when you look round at him, your eyes are all red and there are tears on your cheeks. whatever words he was about to spew die in on his tongue and he sighs, crouching down beside where you sit in the booth.

“hey. what happened?”

you don’t say anything, opting to look at your hands instead. he sighs, biting his tongue before standing back up to full height. “alright. move up.” he gives you a light push to signal you to move up along the worn leather bench and you do so.

once sat besides you, he grabs your cutlery and starts to fork up a mouthful to feed you. “you gotta eat, okay? i paid for this shit.” he speaks softly, lifting the fork to your lips and shovelling it in as soon as you open them just a little.

“its cold.” you garble miserably as he shovels a few mouthfuls past his own lips, hungry after the day he’d had.

“should’ve thought of that, alright— open.” he feeds you another mouthful. you give in, realising now that you were so hungry that you didn’t even mind the food being cold. relaxing a little, you lean against his shoulder slightly, deflating as he feeds you. “yeah, see. spoiled.” he mutters.

you head back to the motel as the sun goes down, your skin feeling relieved of the constant beating down of the sun, replaced by a cooler breeze over the dunes. the motel is an old and rickety one, but it would do. rafe had purchased the room until tomorrow, so the two of you figured you’d use it and get a good nights sleep. he dumps the bags by the door when you enter, and you walk in slowly — taking a look around. your stomach cramps with that feeling again as you look at the bed. the sheets were still tidy, and made — but you still wondered.

rafe follows your eyes as he walks in behind you, glancing between you and the bed. “what? not good enough?” he shrugs a shoulder.

“did she sit on the bed?” you ask quietly and he squints.

“wh— who? the bounty?”

you nod and he scoffs, wandering past you. “no. locked that bitch in the bathroom, alright — she wouldn’t shutup.”

you know it’s wrong, and you shouldn’t. but you feel this sick sense of pride, like in a way you’d won something. you were not sure what exactly, but it satisfied a side to you that you didn’t know you had.

he clocks onto the small, prideful smile on your face and he blinks, resisting an eye roll.

“jesus christ. c’mere, yeah?”

rafe sits on the bed, spreading his legs and patting a knee for you to sit down. you do so without question, in disbelief that there was a time that you’d scream, cry and refuse anything like that. once you’re perching on him, he speaks.

“not getting rid of you, alright— i can see that look on your face. y’know it’s a little ridiculous getting jealous i—i kidnapped you, kind of. okay? but that’s… in the past now. i’m with you. just… behave… and cheer up. paid for the food, paid for the motel — you’re lucky i don’t put you to work to earn your keep.” he pats your ass, signalling for you to stand. “now go shower. we’re leavin’ this place at sun up.”

you wander towards the screen bathroom door before turning back round to look at him with a small and demure smile.

“i’m just happy you came back to get me.”

rafe raises an eyebrow. “the hell are you talking about? i will always come back for you.”

[tender-rosiey]

First of all I love how kind you’ve been to non English speaking anon because as someone who had to learn English, it’s not easy!

Second of all I feel like we don’t see enough fics of jjk men rescuing us from danger! Like imagine gojo saving us from a curse and being like “you know there are better ways to get my attention?” IDUNNO I FELT THE NEED TO SHARE THIS ISDEA 😭

one more — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: it’s nothing <3 a lot of us, including myself, were in there place before so it should be the normal to be patient with them <3

you’re done for, completely and utterly done for.

you’re going to die today and it won’t be because of being stabbed by someone or something normal. no. you were going to get eat by, possibly, the most disgusting and slimy creature you’ve ever seen.

you don’t falter and still fight though, thrashing around in its hold, “let me go you two-toed slimy sewer looking rat!”

the curse seems to have taken great offense to your words cause it frowns then starts swinging you around. It would probably sue you if it could but it settles for preparing to eat you. you start screaming and letting your colorful vocabulary of curses at it.

your cursed technique long forgotten since lo and behold that curse was your natural enemy. so you have nothing to do except to curse it out till it starts crying or something.

just before you’re dropped in its mouth, a figure swiftly catches you and teleports you somewhere safe, a little far away from said curse. you look up and are met with a grinning gojo, “y’know…there are better ways to get my attention than this.”

he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “you don’t need to be in danger for me to notice you, sweets.”

you snap out of your daze, “I wasn’t trying to get your attention!” you huff as you try to get down but his hold on you doesn’t falter, “oh great, I am released from the shackles of a curse only to be trapped in yours.”

he pouts, pulling you closer and nuzzling your noses together, “aw come on now; I deserve a kiss for this, wifey.”

you shake your head and he sulks, turning to walk away from the scene. you look at the curse then up at him like he has grown two heads, “satoru, what’re you doing?”

“I am not fighting until you give me a kiss.”

you gasp and turn to look at the curse once again. it is contained and won’t harm anyone but you can’t just leave it like that so you look back at your crazy attention-loving husband, “you can’t be serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious,” he announces but he stops, smirking at you, “so?”

he should be smacked for his smugness but that will be saved for later especially when he continues talking, “I was the brave and strong husband who just saved you, after all.”

so you take a hold of his collar and pull him down, smashing your lips against his. he kisses you back instantly and you guys keep at it a for a while until you smack his shoulder, remembering that there is a curse roaming around.

“that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he says after pulling back, grinning from ear to ear.

you pat his cheek softly and roll your eyes, “haha, very funny,” you point at the audacious curse, “now go deal with it!”

he puts you down then salutes, “yes ma’am!”

satoru then turns around to walk towards it but he suddenly stops in his track. you, who sat on the ground with your favorite drink that satoru got, groan, “what is it now?”

tilting his head so he can meet your eyes, he smiles, “what about one more kiss?”

you are about to reprimand him yet again but then he interrupts you, “on the cheek! so you don’t have to worry about it getting anywhere—at least not now!“

“I should put tape on your mouth so you shut up for a bit,” you stand up and walk towards him, “satoru, you make me think that I spoil you too much,” you hum, straightening his collar.

he puffs his chest with a pout, “is it bad that I want affection from my wife?”

you shake your head as you signal for him for him to bend down and he does so gladly, “no, but you need to get your priorities straight.”

he hums a thank you when you give him the anticipated kiss before he replies, “this is my priorities being straight.”

you roll your eyes with a chuckle, “then I have to explain to you how to prioritize correctly.”

he leans close, lips mere centimeters apart from your own, “a private lesson, huh? I don’t mind—“

you push him away with your index finger, “but later! you have a curse to deal with mister.”

reluctantly, he walks towards it, steps heavy. he looks back at you with a pout, trying to convince you once again, but you don’t falter. you’re already used to his antics and can resist them—to an extent.

giving up, satoru looks at the curse, “you ready to get beaten?”

the curses shakes its head quickly and satoru shrugs, “well, you will anyway,” the curse cries but satoru continues, “and in a heartbeat cause I have a pretty wife to get back to.”

the curses attempts to run away but satoru quickly blasts it and it’s nowhere to be found anymore.

a smile is plastered on his face and there is a spring in his step as he walks—or rather runs back to you, “date time, y/n!”

you don’t know why, but you run away, “but I wanna sleep!”

perhaps instinct.

there is no time to think about it, though, since satoru gasps offended before quickly responding, “we can just cuddle then,” he teleports right in front do you and you bump into his chest.

you grumble and he laughs while holding you up, “so what do you say? some cuddling will be pretty nice.”

“yeah, whatever,” you mumble as your arms wrap around him and you nuzzle into his chest. he presses a loud smooch to your head, ready for at least an hour of cuddling.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

[skzdarlings]

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

-

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door.  Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car.  They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate. 

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say.  “So wholesome.  So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean.  Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times.  He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone.  He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct.  Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent.  You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy.  Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection.  You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died.  Foolish.  He is not here for you but your name.  He does not care how you feel.  He does not care if you want him.  He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone.  He backed you into the wall and kissed you.  An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye.  Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run.  Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars.  Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort.  You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats.  It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike.  It is a pretty but flimsy thing.  Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets. 

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away. 

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane.  It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory.  Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world.  The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes.  Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns.  It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town. 

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house.  If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror. 

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes.  You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer.  You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard.  You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.  

You park your bike against the side of the house.  You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.    

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door.  While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous.  You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done.  You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late. 

No answer comes.  You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole.  Is he ignoring you?  No.  The windows are shut, the blinds closed.  He cannot even see you.

You take a step back.  Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light.  The house is small, a single story.  There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection.  Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself.  What were you even thinking?  Silly girl.  Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you.  He has a life of his own.  He probably doesn’t even think about you.  You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic.  Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day.  They finally become too much to bear.  You sit down on the steps and cry. 

Some time passes.  You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes.  You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. 

You are not sure what to do now.  You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you.  You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.   

You sigh.  You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you.  Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know.  You met doing volunteer work, in fact.  You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps.  You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine.  It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow.  You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop. 

The driver door flies open.  He jumps out, cursing.  Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability.  His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed.  He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.  

He is beautiful as ever.  Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again.  He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl.  When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now.  Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck.  He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way.  He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside.  He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him.  You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say. 

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood.  He curses louder this time. 

There is a small light on the side of the house.  You step towards it at the same time. 

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion.  He stares intently at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring. 

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say.  “I wanted to see you.  I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side.  He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense. 

“Right,” you say.  You feel a catch in the back of your throat.  Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him.  More of a fool, that is.  You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices. 

I missed you so much, you think.  I think about you every day.  Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic.  Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness.  Minho is not a man like that, though.  He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone.  You know that, but the words catch nonetheless. 

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I probably shouldn’t have come here.  It’s been months since we last spoke.  I know we’re not really friends anymore.  I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says. 

You look at him.  His expression has not softened.  It is still that same scrutinizing stare.  His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying. 

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed.  Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you.  He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck. 

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back. 

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you.  A small touch from him means more than anything. 

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly.  He is still frowning.  “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say.  When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that.  Emotionally, I mean.  I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly.  “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore.  You know what they’re like.” 

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike.  You feel embarrassed, remembering too. 

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts.  You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house.  He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him. 

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted.  He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down.  They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy.   You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him.  His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall. 

You were in denial about your parents being bad people.  You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart.  They were just set in their ways.  They wanted a good life for you.  You told Minho to just give them time.  He let you go.  They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day. 

Minho takes a breath.  He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive.  You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head. 

“You look cold,” he says frankly.  “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps.  He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing.  You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door. 

He says nothing, just nods at you.  You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots.  He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats.  When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark. 

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do.  You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship.  You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance.  He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive.  You wanted to keep everything. 

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want.  You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.   

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him. 

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then.  Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind.  He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.   

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.” 

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply.  Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it.  Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing.  He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.   

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall. 

Your heart sinks.  It is your turn to swallow. 

“You know about that?” you ask. 

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle.  He looks at you incredulously. 

“Of course I know,” he says.  “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks.  Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.”  He huffs, shaking his head.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “You should be with someone like that.  He’ll give you the house.  The car.  I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling.  You lift your chin and look him in the eye.  “You’re right, my parents do love him.  But I don’t.  He’s shallow and unkind.  And you—”  Your voice catches.  “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that.  You are everything.  And I… I love you.  I always have.”  You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze.  “I know it’s been a while,” you say.  “I don’t expect you to have waited for me.  I just—”

He laughs again.  It is still dry, but not so sharp.  You glance at him. 

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like you don’t even know me.  I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl. 

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously. 

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him.  He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you. 

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit.  “But I know I want to figure it out.  With you.  And no one else.” 

He smiles and it makes you smile.  Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands. 

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back.  “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you.  He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip.  It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body. 

It is more effective than any word.  He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness.   You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit.  You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses.  “Torturing me for so long.  I wanted to kill that man.  But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say.  “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.”  That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again.  “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation. 

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head.  You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in. 

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say.  “Just make me forget him.” 

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time.  Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms.  You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it.  Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does. 

Then he gets very serious.  Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body.  Your thighs press together. 

He presses his forehead to yours.  You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down.  The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you.  You shiver, gazing back at him.  His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside.  His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress.  He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side. 

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards.  You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs.  You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.   

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it. 

“You are,” he says.  He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair.  “You are.” 

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you.  He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name.  You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady. 

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue.  It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep.  It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.   

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing.  He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp.  It makes your head spin.   He speaks like that now.    

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth.  When you moan, he moans back.  “I make you sigh,” he says.  “I make your pussy wet.  I make you come.  Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed.  “You, Minho.” 

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs.  They are still quivering from your orgasm.  He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt.  He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you.  He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits.  You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you.  You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his.  He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you. 

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth.   “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him.  You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other.  Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites.  There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.  He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss. 

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more.  When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately. 

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home. 

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ strangers in the woods ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ toby rogers x reader ୨୧ When walking alone in the woods, off the beaten track a stranger makes himself known. a/n: (1.3k words, requested by @tychos-huzband) first request so I hope you enjoy!

Life sometimes sucks. It's true, it's something not everyone wants to admit but everyone feels it. Life can really suck at times. But right now? Right now it was feeling pretty damn shitty.

The day before was your last day of work. Your boss, a short egotistical man that you'd graciously put up with for three long years, decided to fire you. 

Not because you'd used your sick days when your only family member had died last year, not because you were late to your shift one time when your ex had smashed your car up, not even because of the time you'd yelled at a customer for putting his slimy hands on you. 

No, it was because he'd hired 'one too many lazy girls'. The sexist pig didn't seem to care when the guys on shift would slack off let alone steal cigarettes on their closing shift but when you forgot to stock one set of drinks that morning. Bam, that was it. No warning or anything just a ‘you’re fired, goodbye’.

When life got as bad as this, sometimes you needed to just get away from it all even just for a day. So you did.

You used what little you had left of your last pay and bought two bus tickets, to the end of their route and back. The trip itself wasn't all that exciting. The old bus was so cramped you had to awkwardly shift on your seat so your legs could fit. 

You spent the whole time looking at the busted bus door wondering if this bump would be the one where it finally fell off.

You had been the only one on the bus for a while before the final stop finally appeared in view.

With a creaking stop, you were free of the shitty blue bus. Around you was nothing but forest, clearly far away from the concrete jail of a city you'd come from.

Across the dirt road were five small shops two of which were boarded and closed, the other three had seen better days. On your side of the road was a wooden trail map and a small bridge leading further into the woods. Perfect.

You'd been on the trail years prior, only once with your friend who said he'd known a spot. He was right, once you'd both reached the top of the trail it was a beautiful view, up on a hill looking out over the small town, if you could even call it that.

He was a good friend, one of your only friends actually. He'd been sent away not long after that trip. The doctor said he wasn't right and needed help to get better, though you never saw him again. 

You'd been meaning for a long time to come back to this trail, it did always remind you of him. But that's not what you're here for today. 

You're here to forget, not to reminisce.

After walking for a good while you halted on the dirt trail. Picking a random direction you walked off the trail to follow your own path. As long as you kept going one way, you could just turn back around and go back the way you came.

It was much better off the trail, the forest felt more natural. Being able to let your thoughts float away and focus on your rugged path instead.

The feeling of the sunlight through the leaves in the tall trees flickering on your face seemed to leave you in a trance. Losing all track of time, for once you weren't worrying about where you should be or what you could be doing.

A faint crack and a crunch of leaves pulled you from your gaze on the forest floor. Pausing in your tracks you scan the area around you, squinting your eyes as if that would help, searching for the source of the odd noise.

Regardless you kept moving, after all there was probably more wildlife the further you got away from the track. Continuing on your walk until suddenly you hear it again. A crack and a crunch.

You could almost feel your ears hurt from the strain you put on them to focus on every little sound. 

Ruffling of trees against each other, birds chirping and flapping away, distant leaves crunching like audible footprints, a crack that sounded like when you crack your knuckles except this was much louder.

Just your luck, go on a nice relaxing walk to get away from people and assholes of the world. And along the way boom, people and potential assholes. Great, wonderful even.

You decided against your better judgement to be like every character in a horror movie and yell out, because if they were out here, they were probably here for you. No one else would be reckless enough to go this far out.

"If you're gonna kill me, at least have some manners and don't be a coward about it!" You yelled out causing birds to scatter into the skies, you twisted on your heel in a circle trying to get a view from all directions.

Crunch, another footstep much closer this time. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to call them a coward, might've just made them mad.

"Uh, not a coward and not gonna kill you either. Just wanna know why you're out here?" The stuttering voice almost scared you to death, you had enough self preservation to not scream.

A few paces in front of you stood what looked like a guy around your age, wearing worn down black sneakers, slightly muddy black jeans, a faded blue hoodie with a clean oversized brown jacket over the top.

The strangest part of his appearance wasn't his fingerless gloves in the middle of summer but a large hospital looking bandage that covered part of his cheek.

You felt your eyebrows furrow in caution.

"Why're you out here?" The sass laid on thick, you could feel the tension in your shoulders building as every second passed.

He let out a strange mix between a giggle and a scoff.

"I live here. Obviously, where else would I be out here? Hm?" The condescending tone in his voice made you wonder if the murderer in the woods was goin to be you instead.

"What? You live in the woods? You do know that the next town over has a homeless shelter right? I can literally take you there" Only if you stop being a prick.

"Wha- No. I have a home you fucking worm! One which you're about to trespass on which won't go too well for you, so my question is still unanswered. Why. are. you. here?"

Embarrassingly you were open mouthed like a fish right now.

"Well, I was on a trail, must've gotten lost on it." Half truth, please get me out of this.

His face really said it all. His brown eyes squinted in disbelief and his pale lips pulled into a sort of smirking snarl.

"You do realize how far away that stupid trail is, you must've been walking what? All day?"

You felt yourself nod meekly, which was not a way you'd usually describe yourself as being.

With a sigh he looked to the sun. He kept fighting with something in his hoodie pocket which did absolutely nothing to ease your nerves.

"It's going to get dark soon and there's no way you'd make it all the way back to the track in time even if you ran. So I can drive you back to the entrance in the morning, c'mon" He turned around and started walking without even looking back.

No way you'd make it all the way back, even if you ran. Totally not fucking ominous and threating at all but sure I'd just love to spend the night with you random stranger, sure all of this is totally cool.

With a groan and a stomp to the ground beneath you, you jogged over to him and began the walk further into the forest.

[anisangeldust]

May the fourth be with you 🎀

(Today is my mom’s bday!)

Imagine that Anakin has been busy all day, never once having the opportunity to dote on his precious girl. Copious training sessions have left him exhausted, and the only thing he’s craving right now is you and your warm cunt. You aren’t force sensitive, sometimes he forgets, and that makes it more difficult, so he reaches out with a phantom force hand until he finds you on your guys’ bed.

The feeling of nothing yet the delicious sensation of hands on your clit makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, Anakin is coming, and you can feel that’s he’s needing you. The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but the message stuck, Anakin needed you, and that was his way of communicating from so far away.

Anakin had already shed himself of his armor, the clunky metal discarded in the doorway of your shared apartment. He was ridding himself of his shirt, his abs glistened like a glazed donut, and turning a sharp corner to your bed. He’d never been more proud when he saw you in your prettiest lingerie, propped up on your knees and lip jutted in a pout.

“Oh princess, you knew what daddy needed didn’t you?” He cooed, picking you up in his strong arms and played you back down on your back, spreading your legs open and using the force to tease your sensitive clit. “So good for me baby, such an obedient girl for daddy, you know what obedient girls get baby? They get rewards, and daddy is going to reward you.” He murmurs and tugs off your panties, pressing them to his face and inhaling with a ravenous groan. Quickly unbuckling his pants, he pulls out his hard cock and lines up with your puffy hole.

“Sorry I couldn’t prep you today baby, js’ needed you so bad, think you can take it?” He teases and slides his fat tip against your slimy pussy. A small chuckle leaves his chest when you nod frantically and blubber out “yes daddy!” And “I’m your good girl”, he presses one hand on your stomach and slides in, the squelch sound is almost pornographic, and the thrusts he’s giving are heavenly. Anakin pins your hands above your head with the force and uses the power to toy with your sensitive bud, enjoying how he can see the lack of thoughts in your mind.

There was so satisfying about something as sacred as the force being used to make is cockslut of a girlfriend look so beautifully dumb.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 10

This took me a few days as it just was not wanting to play out how I wanted, finally today I figured it out! My poor brain!! Hope you enjoy guys - a little one on one time with a certain Vee ;)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Thanking them both for helping you get ready and promising Velvette you would take loads of photos tonight you grab your purse and phone – glancing at the lone coffee left on the table you sigh a little under your breath. It woulda been nice to have seen Vox’s reaction to your outfit. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts. Jeez y/n get a grip! Walking to the elevator you miss the smirks crossing Vel and Valentino’s faces. If you had, you’d have known you were walking into a big surprise.

Walking onto the black carpet at the front of the club you were kinda overwhelmed by all the flashing of the cameras, the paparazzi shouting out questions, compliments and insults thrown at the different demons and sinners on the carpet was just crazy. If you thought the paparazzi were bad when you were alive … when dead and in Hell, they really don’t give a shit.

You move further into the chaos, giving the best winning smiles at all the cameras, twisting this way and that showcasing off Velvette’s outfit which you made sure to mention numerous times (she’d killed you if you didn’t) and answering a few questions or rather answering the ones you were comfortable with – so far so good. Perhaps best to get yourself in the club before you mess up by tripping over or saying something you shouldn’t.  You went to walk to the doors until a slimy arm crept around your waist, spinning around you come face to face with some fish-like sinner. Ew. Lifting your lip in distaste you pry his arm off – you swear to Lucifer if he has left ANY slime on you or your outfit, you’d skin him alive and make sushi! Giving the arm a hard shove back towards its owner you snarl. The fuck did he think he was going to achieve? Before you could give the fucker an ear lashing another arm wrapped around your waist. Twisting your head with a glare you came up short when you faced an unamused Vox who was glaring at the creep.

“Vox?”, he flashes you a quick wink.

“Keep smiling sweetheart, you are on camera after all. Remember – perfection is our brand”, his fingers dug into your hip as he dragged you closer to him. Even with your stilettos he was taller, you had to tilt your face up to look at his expression which had its usual charming grin but the look in his eyes were telling you a different story. Leaning forwards his charming smile glitches as he menacingly spoke to the sinner: “I really suggest you don’t touch what isn’t yours!” Both of you watch the sinner nearly wet itself as it scrambled away with apologies rushing out its mouth.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, giving your best smile to the cameras, resting your arm around his trim waist to stabilise yourself. Brushing your fingers against his suit you notice it’s a lot fancier than the one he usually wears, it was navy (of course) with thin white stripes but the thing that caught your eye was a pink pocket square in his chest pocket. And not just any pink. Your pink.

A small chuckle caught your attention, he smirked down at you when he saw your eyes were focused on the pocket square: “Vel thought we should be matching if we were going to the event together. And good to see you as well Songbird”.

Together? Uh? When did you invite him? Confused you try to keep the smile on your face as he moves you both forwards a few steps; at a quick turn you both face another set of cameras. Twisting you a bit too fast you almost stumble but his arm pulls you safely to his chest. Peeking up at him you can’t stop a playful smirk, you just know he did that on purpose. Your hands were resting on his chest, he was leaning down a little to keep his grip on your waist – the coldness from his fingers made you shiver a little making his smirk grow wider on his face. From the mad flashes you knew the paparazzi would be lapping this all up. You dreaded to think what the headlines were going to be reading tomorrow.

Vox pulled you back up so you can stand properly, though a possessive hand stayed on your hip as he let you step away from his body so you both could pose appropriately for the cameras. Carrying on down the carpet you blushed when some of the more … er raunchier paparazzi started asking some very personal questions about you and Vox. Unsure how to answer you look up at the TV Demon who gave you a wicked smile. Uh Oh. Winking at the paps he instead pulled you with him down the carpet, matching his steps till you come to a small queue at the door. Standing behind you he let both his hands rest on your hips, his chest brushing your back as he leaned forwards to whisper in your ear: “what has your heart racing little songbird?”

Clearing your throat while you turn your head so you can look at him over your shoulder you raise your eyebrows in amusement at the smirking Demon. You weren’t going to tell him the truth. That it was him being so close to you that was setting your dead heart a patter. Nope. You were not going to give him the satisfaction! It was also definitely not that his face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath brush your cheeks.

“It’s my first time on a ‘red’ carpet so it was a little nerve wracking”, you tell a half-truth. You actually were really glad that he was here to help you, “by the way thank you for helping me back there”. His smirk softens a tad as his fingers rub little circles against the bare skin just above the leather pants you were wearing. Tingles flow from his touch.

“I couldn’t just let you get mauled out there” he chuckled, “plus we cann’t have you going all Siren on us again. That wouldn’t have been good for our image!” Narrowing your eyes at him you huff.

“There’s such a thing as self-control you know. He would have just gotten cursed out that is all”, crossing your arms over your chest, watching as his eyes follow their direction before humming under his breath.

“Self-control is overrated sometimes”, his eyes flick back up to focus on yours with that devilish grin that you love. That coming from the control freak made you laugh and roll your eyes at him, that grin doesn’t leave his lips as he pulls you closer as some sinners walk in front of you. “Hmm you know y/n…” raising your eyebrows questioningly he lets his screen rest on your shoulder so his lips were just by your ear, “I just can’t get the smell of your perfume out of my head”. Catching you by surprise you couldn’t hide the blush that hit your cheeks from his words. Seeing he had managed to fluster you that wicked grin grew, lifting his screen off your shoulder he squeezed your hips before pushing you gently forward. Seeing the queue had diminished you walk with him to the door and allow the doorman to check off both your names, spying Vox’s name on the form you frown. He had an invite, why hadn’t he told you earlier in the week when you spoke about it?

Entering the club, you lean back and let the music distract you for a moment. The vibration of the bass and drums. Energy ran through your body from it. After a few moments you open your eyes and see an amused Vox observing you from your side, two glasses of champagne in his hand. Holding one out to you, you accept it letting your fingers run across his own. A smile of your own tugs at the corner of your lips as you both raise your glasses in a mock cheers and take a sip.

Moving towards a free table, Vox motions to the only high stool, laughing at you when you had to jump a little to sit on the stool – damn your shortness. Vox leans against the table so your knees were brushing his legs which shouldn’t have flustered you so much. He was being quite touchy feely with you tonight. Sipping on your champagne you couldn’t help admiring his stance. He just commanded power, even just stood leaning on the table. Teeth biting your bottom lip as you wonder if he could teach you how to do it, he looks over at you suddenly as if you had called his name – caught in the act you just decide to go with it. You let your gaze wonder down his body once more, slower than before (you’d already been caught so what was the harm with having a proper look?) before raising your eyes to his. A small glitch appeared on his screen. Ooh seems you have hit a small nerve. A sip of your champagne hides the victorious smile.

A dark expression was now on his face, a clawed hand now rested on your knee giving it a sharp squeeze. You were very tempted to keep up this game of cat and mouse, but something told you that you would lose. Not that losing would be a bad thing, but it might things a little awkward later on. Possibly. Maybe. Worth it?

“Mind telling me what you are doing here? I didn’t think club openings were your type of thing. More Val’s?” You try to distract the TV Demon, when he responded to you he didn’t remove his hand from your knee.

“True sweetheart, but this club has bought a lot of security stock from VoxTek so they extended me an invite. Truthfully, I wasn’t going to come but I got a very snappish text off Valentino”, his other hand reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. “That Angel bitch has dumped our Y/n. Get your ass in your best suit and get down to the club to support our girl” he repeated the text, eyebrow quirking at you when he finished. Valentino wrote that? Annoyed that he had called Angel a bitch, you would be speaking to him about that! But you were a tiny bit touched that he made sure you had someone with you tonight. That he knew you would be nervous. Wait. Our Girl?

“Our girl?” you question, finishing the glass of champagne you pop it on the table. Glad you had because when Vox leaned forwards his hand slid further up your leg, so it was now riding up your thigh making you tense.

“Yes y/n, you are our girl. You don’t seem to realise that when you entered an agreement with Velvette, you don’t just get one of us but all three. It’s what makes our trio work so well.” Swallowing the nerves down you frown at him.

“I don’t remember that being mentioned in the agreement” sassily you cross your arms. A sharp squeeze to your thigh made you clench your legs.

“It is an unspoken rule”.

“Funny that”. You roll your eyes. Of course there would be hidden little loopholes in the deal. It was too good to be true. “Any other unspoken rules I should know about?”

He tilted his head mockingly at you. Course he wouldn’t say if there was or not. God you needed another drink. As if he could read your mind – which he better bloody not be able to – he clicked at a waiter to get you both a bottle of champagne. Watching him command the waiter you didn’t notice the owner of the club had made their way to you.

“Miss Y/n, aren’t you just a dream, pleasure to finally meet you face to face”, twisting in your chair you face the Shark-like Demon. You didn’t exactly have the best rapport with Sinners and Demons who had shark features, usually they were loan sharks or something similar when they were human. Not ones you wanted to get into business with. Plus, the ones that had cornered you last week. Plastering on your best smile you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Pleasure is all mine Mister Carp” the irony of his name was not lost on you. “Your club looks fabulous”, his creepy smile was starting to make you feel uncomfortable, so you were quite glad when Vox turns back to you with a full glass of champagne.

“Ah Mister Vox, great to see you here as well. I didn’t realise you were both an item?” Scratch that.

Laughing he slipped the glass into your hand and leant against the table eyeing the club owner as he sipped on his own for a moment. “Well, I was curious as to what you were going to offer Y/n here to sing at your club – you realise she has a lot of offers at the moment and as someone whose associate runs other clubs, I am a very interested party in making sure Y/n gets what she is worth and nothing less”. Eyebrows lost in your hairline you smile into your glass when the owner starts to stutter. It was apparent that he was not expecting Vox to be here, let alone with you and speaking about business.

“We already spoke about your salary here Miss Y/n” he bared all his teeth in what he must have hoped was a charming smile, unimpressed you placed your glass on the table while leaning forwards allowing Vox to place his hand on the back of your chair brushing between your shoulders. After having Vox, Valentino and Velvette all use their charming smiles on you – no one else’s seemed to work.

“And I rejected that offer as it was disrespectfully low for the talent that I have” you simply put, pointing to Vox you carry on “like Vox said, I have many others who are offering twice and thrice what you have offered to pay. So. Thank you for the opportunity and invitation tonight but I will have to refuse. I think we are going to take our leave now”, you step down from the stool. The shark-demon would have intimidated you slightly if you didn’t have Vox directly behind you with an arm looped around your shoulder glaring at the club owner.

Stuttering his apologies and other offers you just roll your eyes at the club owner. You place your arm around Vox’s waist and start walking for the exit, him laughing under his breath as you grumble about what a waste of time this evening was.

“I don’t know Songbird; I quite liked this little date of ours” – catching you off guard you stumble. His laughter grew as he removed his arm from your shoulder and put it back on your hip where it barely left this evening. DATE?

“You thought this was a date?” you asked in a bit of shock. Humming his lips were twitching in amusement. “Well …” you bit your lip and then thought screw it, “I thought you out of everyone would have planned a much better date and more entertaining than posing for cameras and being looked at like shark bait by creepy club owners?” It was now your turn to laugh as his screen once again glitched and he narrowed his eyes.

“You just wait Y/n” as you walked outside you took a deep breath of fresh air.

“With pleasure, Sir” you smirk up at the TV Demon who matched you with one of his own. This night might have been a bust but it definitely was interesting.

Tag List:

@tasha-1994  @azullynxx  @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser @the-maladaptive-daydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzl3r

[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy Chapter 43: Aren't you the Big Brother? part 1 (Quick translation)

source | translation index

T/N: The name of the chapter is "niichan darou ga" [ 兄ちゃんだろうが ] - It's vague and I can't accurately translate without knowing the context. We still haven't reached the part where a character said it in a dialogue (in part 2, I suppose?) but based on what we got in part 1, I decided to translate as above ^

The casual everyday moments become irreplaceable memories.

[A merciless blow cutting his only little brother]

Luffy: CORAO!!!

Usopp: What...the hell is this...?

(Law is still under the string's control)

Doflamingo: Law...

You were supposed to be with me. Instead, you stayed with Corazon and became utterly spineless.

If you hadn't brought Straw hat along, this wouldn't have happened.

If you hadn't been listening to Corazon's naive thoughts, this wouldn't have happened.

This is the outcome of your erroneous choices.

Being the pacifist fool that you've become today,

Doflamingo: ...You can't change a thing!!!

Law:... DAMN IT!!

[Wham!]

[Don!]

Trebol: A clash of the Conqueror's...!!!?

Doflamingo: Why do you stop me, Straw hat..?

Luffy: How could you do that? Corao...Corao is...

YOUR OWN LITTLE BROTHER!!

Law: Cora san...!

this is not the day law beats the arc designated heroine allegations

Law: You all, move aside! I'll take care of him!!

Sanji: Cool it, Law. That's not like you.

We'll do something about Doflamingo and the slimy bastard. This is something that we can do.

So you do the thing that we can't do!

Law:

Zoro: Losing your calm means playing right into their hands, right?

Usopp: Trust 'Team Poverty!' That guy's the Joker - So what?

In our side...

Usopp: We Have Luffy!!!!

Doflamingo: You want to throw punch at me? For Corazon's sake?

Luffy: 'Cuz I promised that I'll beat your ass if you do anything bad!

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Anchored

2003 Raphael x GN reader aged up (Raph is 23-24)

soft, fluffy comfort fic with my fav turt

idiots in love, friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff

It was another rough night at work, and the ride home on the subway only added to your sour mood as the man from a few seats down took it upon himself to slide into the empty spot next to you, striking up an unwanted conversation as you cursed your earlier self for forgetting your headphones at home this afternoon.

As the doors opened and you stepped off the platform, you made a quick bolt up the stairs and out to the city streets above, the twinkling of the buildings and signs overhead illuminating your steps as you trekked the short distance to your apartment building.

New York City had a way of making you feel big and small at the same time; it was a city where anything could happen- but also, anything could happen.

Your subway experiences had been interesting lately since you started working later shifts, having sometimes uncomfortable encounters like the man today. His comments had left you feeling slimy, and after the day at work you just had- you really needed to go home and yell in a pillow.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you trodded down the sidewalk, and you smiled to yourself- knowing who it was without having to check.

Red <3: Night go ok?

A warmth crept over your face as you looked down at the screen. For a self-proclaimed tough guy, he always made sure to check up on you when you weren't there.

Despite his posturing in front of his brothers that he didn't really care.

You shot a quick text back to your friend before sliding the keys into your front door as you unlocked the bolt and stepped inside, flicking on the light with a lazy motion as you unloaded your bag and coat by the entry way.

The couch groaned under you as you flopped onto the cushions face first, sighing heavily into the fabric.

Today sucked.

Your manager at work had been even worse today, hovering over the employees as the team prepped for a visit from corporate. Everyone had been on edge because of it- and it all could've been avoided if your dirtbag manager just got their crap together.

But no.

Your phone vibrated again, and you fished it from your pocket as you sat up from the cushions.

Red <3: Home yet?

Raphael always had a way of just knowing with you.

You had been friends with the turtles for years, but what you and the red-banded ninja shared was, well...it was special.

It was a friendship forged in unconditional trust and understanding; ever since that first night that he had found you crying on your roof- and you had cussed him out for seeing you like that.

You could be open with Raph; and despite the fronts you put up around other people, you could let down the wall in front of each other and just be yourselves.

You could talk about things, feel things-

It was safe.

The tap at your window came quicker than you expected.

He must've had a bad day too.

You walked the short distance to the window, unlatching it and pushing the heavy frame up with a shove as a green, scaled mutant turtle peeked out from the darkness from your balcony.

"...Hey."

A soft chuckle was heard in the silence between you.

"...Hey, Raph."

You took a few steps backwards, giving him space to step into the warmth of your apartment as you grabbed him a beer from your fridge.

He looked down at the bottle as you offered it to him, something warm flickering across his eyes for a brief moment before the thought was interrupted by your question.

"So....tough day?"

He popped the cap off as he answered, shaking his head.

"Ah, nah." You watched as he sauntered over to the couch, sitting down with a flop as the furniture groaned under his weight in protest. He gave you a lopsided grin. "I could jus tell ya had a shit day, figured ya'd want to let off some steam or some shit."

Your head cocked to the side as a confused look crawled over your face, and you pulled your phone back out of your pocket to look at your text to him.

I'm fine.

Ah.

Yeah.

He knew you better than that.

His deep voice brought your attention back to his smug face, seemingly satisfied with himself as he took a long swig from the bottle while he watched you.

"So- what's goin on, slugger?"

You sat down on the couch and laid your head onto his lap, sighing loudly.

"It was just work, man. It sucks. I-..I just fucking hate it."

Raphael nodded behind you, and you feel a tridactyl hand lightly settle onto your shoulder, rubbing gentle circles in the comforting way that only he can do.

"Yeah, that's gotta blow."

Your hands comes to rest on his thigh, fingers feeling the scaled surface of his pebbled skin underneath your fingertips as you continue.

"I just...I just wish that I could just hide here, you know? Like never deal with people ever again."

He laughs above you, and you turn over your shoulder to lie on your back, gazing up at him with an amused look on your face.

"What, Raphie?"

He rolls his eyes, but the smirk doesn't leave.

"Was just thinkin you'd be lonely, that's all."

A quiet laugh slips out of your throat, smile playing at your lips.

"I wouldn't be lonely- you're all I need, really."

He huffs under his breath. "Yeh, ok. Whatever."

"I mean it, Raph. You're all I need."

Raphael's smile slowly fades from his face, the bottle slipping out of his grip as it falls to the floor with a soft thunk; his hands reaching down to grab your face as he stares at you, eyes wide.

Paralyzed.

"Raph...? Are you-"

"What- whaddya mean-"

His eyes search yours as he cuts off your words, his heartbeat picking up and pounding so loudly you can feel it through his plastron as you lay in his lap.

You can feel the warmth spread over your cheeks, traveling down your chest. "I...what do you mean..?"

The tempo of your heart matches his as your gazes remain locked; neither of you wanting to admit, to move forward.

Not wanting to admit to something that you've danced around for for years.

Or wanting to ruin a friendship that's kept you both above water.

You can't imagine a life without Raphael.

And this might ruin everything.

You hear the low growl in his throat as his hands tense against your face.

"Fuck it."

Your breath catches in your throat as his head dips down, lips descending upon yours, urgent and demanding, as if he's been starving. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his mask tails, gripping and pulling him closer as your lips crash and part like waves against the shore.

Everything is vibrating, ringing.

This is happening.

Holy shit, this is happening.

You groan softly into the kiss, your hand coming up to hold his against your face as you kiss him back, fiercely.

In a blink of stiffened muscles and chests heaving, Raph tenses and pulls back slightly, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as you both pant in the small space between you; neither of you sure-

Of anything.

For a moment his gaze searches yours, something swirling in the depths of his eyes.

You've seen that look before.

You trail your fingers up, tracing the curves of his face, feeling the tension there as he watches you; apprehension clear on both of your faces for a brief second before you take a deep breath.

The wall can come down.

Raphael is safe.

He won't hurt you; he'll always be here for you.

Pulling him back down by his mask tails, you brush your lips against his once more, a gentle promise there as he releases a ragged sigh, melting into the kiss; the world around you spinning at the sensation.

As the two of you remain anchored together.

Always.

boopin the pals: @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @zombiesnips-blog @4evrdreamin5 @gornackeaterofworlds @the-cauldron-witch @pheradream-15 @iridescentflamingo @scholastic-dragon

let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list! 18+

[m3l0nfl0at]

bad day - h. sero

pro hero!hanta sero x gn!reader ; fluffiest of fluff, minor angst on sero’s part, domestic fluff, reader is the sweetest, timeskip!sero (my beloved), pet names galore, 1.4k words

summary : sero comes back home after a rough day good thing he has a very supportive partner to cheer him up!

melons recommended melody: coming home - beabadoobee

 Was it hard dating a pro hero, no. However, it was hard seeing Sero come home sometimes bruised or with a ripped costume. What you never expected was for him to come home and tell you the reason why he was this beaten up was over his hair. 

 Sero ended up back at your guys’ shared house, expecting him to come in cheery like he usually does but you’re surprised when you see him looking glum and beaten down. “Baby? Are you okay?” You quirk your head and rush to his side waiting for his answer. Sero takes off his helmet angrily, “My stupid hair kept getting in the way of my vision in my helmet. It doesn’t help that we were fighting a villain made out of slime. So now I’m beat up and have slime in my hair, isn’t this great.”, he huffs stomping away to the shower. Truth be told you loved Sero’s hair, you loved when he came home from a long day and you could run your fingers through it or when he would sometimes let you put it in cute little hairstyles. Hearing he hated it made you sad but you thought that he would be angry for this moment and then move on, little did you know that this was his last straw.

 After Sero’s shower he came out with his brows furrowed in the middle, still looking as agitated as ever. “I’ve decided that I’m going to go get a haircut tomorrow. The shag is going bye-bye!” You go silent feeling your heart physically split down the middle, Sero looks over at you confused. He goes over to you on the couch waving his hand in your face, “Hello, babe, anyone in there?”. You snap out of your daze and slowly look up at him, “Hanta Sero, listen to me very clearly.”, oh you’re irritated. “If you cut your hair, an angel will die.”, Sero wanting to turn the vibe around teased. “So you’ll die if I cut my hair then baby?”, you faintly chuckle. “You know what, yes I’ll die if you cut your hair. If I can suggest anything maybe just a trim? It’s your final decision baby, I’ll love you no matter what your hair looks like. I will miss running my fingers through it when we cuddle or braiding your hair after you come home though.” 

 You send a pout his way, sinking yourself farther into the couch before Sero rushes over to you, pulling you into a hug, “Ok, I’ll get a trim because you’re right. I love the feeling of coming home and you playing with my hair after a long day plus I don’t want you to die.” You both laugh with each other as your hands find your way to his hair. “I’m sorry that your mission went badly today though, I still see bits of slime in your hair. Want me to wash it again for you? We can do a nighttime routine before we go to bed.” Sero nods and you pull him up by his hands leading him to your shared bathroom. “Let’s go slimy Sero! Hopefully I’ll be able to get all of this tiny goop out of my lovies beautiful hair.”

 Leaning on the counter of your sink you instruct him to grab your shampoo and conditioner as he leans down into the sink to wet his hair. “Baby why didn’t you grab a towel first, you’re going to get everything wet!” Scolding him as you run to get a towel. “Sorry, you called me slimy Sero and that made me think about the mission going terribly. Ugh, it really was bad but now is not the time to think about that, it’s time to relax.” 

 Coming back into the bathroom you see Sero hunched over with his shoulder tensed, feeling saddened by the thoughts of what Sero might be feeling right now. Caressing his back to let him know you were behind him, his shoulders relax knowing you’re near him and safe. Placing the towel on his back you start grabbing the shampoo and lathering it through his hair, still feeling a bit apprehensive about bringing up his mission again. Sero feels the silence hanging in the air, “Your shampoo smells like you, it’s relaxing me.” You laugh and Sero’s worry melts away, “It’s my shampoo of course it’s going to smell like me silly. It’s getting all that small slime out of your hair, not like your three in one.” Sero whips his head up to where you are, “I do not use a three in one! Don’t slander my name like that!” Laughing so hard your stomach felt like it was going to start hurting at any point, “Your hands feel so relaxing in my hair, are you sure you’re not a masseuse?” You go to grab your blow dryer shaking off his silly comment before blowing the cold air in his face. “Hey, no fair!” Sero waves his hands in front of his face before grabbing you by the waist, tickling you. You get the air out of his face signaling a truce switching the air to hot and actually blow drying his hair.

 “After this I’ll put some oil on the ends then we can go lay down my love.”, you softly brush his hair feeling relief that you convinced him to get a trim. As Sero glances over watching you in the mirror apply oil to his hair, he wonders how he got so lucky with you. He thinks how much of a blessing it is that he can come home to you everyday and no matter what he did wrong, you would be there waiting for him. Just as you finish you see Sero staring at you through the mirror with loving eyes, “What’s up baby?”. “Nothing, just love you and appreciate you being here for me, that's all.” You kiss him on the cheek before grabbing his hand, “I love you too, now let's go to sleep baby, you had a long day.” 

 Laying down with each other and letting the stressful day slip away, “Sero, I want you to know something. No matter what happens at that mission I know you put up a good fight and that’s all that matters, you hear me? Don’t think you ever let anyone down okay?”, grabbing his face and pulling him closer to you. He nods flushed with the sudden pull of affection, you lay his head down softly against you before giving him a kiss on his head. Sero laying on your chest matching his breathing with yours feels at peace, nothing was going to hurt him. No slime villain was going to attack him suddenly or ruin his hair and even if they did you would help him with that. Looking down at Sero you see him still wide awake looking at you, “Are you not tired baby?”. 

 Sero looks up finally feeling vulnerable enough to tell you about his day, “Since it was a villain with a slime quirk my tape was pretty much useless because I don’t really have anything to grab on too but I went to the scene anyway. I tried to grab onto the walls only to slip and fall, leaving me covered in slime, it was so embarrassing babe!” You wanted to chuckle a bit imagining Sero doing a spidey-like thwip with his tape to only slip and fall, “Hey, jerk! Don’t picture it!”. Sero flicks your forehead as you start giggling, “Sorry, you’re just so cute. I know that you’re embarrassed because it doesn’t help your hero image but no one can be a perfect hero baby.”. Sero looks away still feeling insecure, “Lately, I just feel like I’m embarrassing myself more and more. What if the agency doesn’t take me seriously.” he pushes his face further in your neck to avoid looking at you. “Baby, it’s normal to feel embarrassed especially when you’re trying to maintain your hero image. You don’t have to be the strongest hero or the fastest, you just have to save people. You're going to lose some battles but you’re also going to win some that specifically fit your quirk, as long as you come back in one piece to me that’s all that matters.” Sero side eyes you, “Oh, all that matters to me of course.” He flicks your forehead again, laughing along with you, “You’ll always be the greatest hero to me, Sero.”. That was all he needed to be, you both eased into the comfort of being close to each other after a hard day of work. Suddenly every embarrassing moment that happened today to Sero vanished into thin air because he wasn’t the greatest hero but to you he was.

divider credit to @/anitalenia and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: been watching mha and then saw timeskip sero and hello princess, i luv him he’s so silly

[thatblackravenclaw]

Hello my love!(sorry if thats kind of creepy its judt my nickname for everyone)

Idk if you still do hp but can i get james potter staring at reader in class and she confronts him abt it and maybe smut or spice????

Ravenclaw!reader (fem!reader)

-🐸

Somewhere Only We Know

a/n: Hello there, darlin! I'm so sorry I'm just getting back to you a month later. My writers block has been vicious and I didn't want to give you something half-assed. I hope I did your ask justice :)

Blog Details | Let's take a trip

James Potter x fem!reader (Ravenclaw)

warning(s): not proof read, fluff, reader is called little bird and birdie, light cussing, smut, public?, fingering

word count: 3.04k

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The cauldron erupts bubbles in front of me, waiting for the final ingredient for today’s brew. There’s a gag stuck in my throat as I pick up the little vial filled with troll bogeys. I turn my head to avoid the slimy liquid drip out of the bottle. I unfortunately turn my head and make eye contact with James. His stare is unwavering and it’s almost as disgusting as the bogeys. His full pink lips are turned up into a smile and his big doe eyes are staring right into mine. I raise a quizzical brow before turning back to my cauldron. With five counter-clockwise turns, and a gold shimmer emerging from the pot, my invisibility potion is finished. I fill up the empty vial in my left hand and the ladle with the other to spoon in the clear liquid. 

With the cork pushed in, I turn around and walk towards Slughorn’s desk. I can tell he’s recruiting for the Slug Club by the thankful look on Gwenog Jones’ face for a reprieve when she sees me walking in their direction. 

“Excuse me, professor?” I tap his shoulder before I speak. Gwenog makes a swift, but discreet exit when he excuses himself to talk to me.

“Finished already?” He asks me with a smile. 

“Of course.” I respond, with a proud, but humble expression. 

“10 points to Ravenclaw for being the first to finish.” There’s a giddiness that bubbles through my body at the praise. 

My eyes catch James’s again when I turn around to return to my station. He’s such a weirdo. Every time we’re in proximity his eyes are on me. Before my mind even registers it, I’m walking over to his station with an unwavering determination in each step. His eyes widen, but he quickly recovers. The shocked look on his face turns into a smug one in half a second.  

“James, why must you insist on staring at me during class? It’s bad enough you do it in the halls, at Honeydukes, Slug Club parties, in the middle of a quidditch match. I can’t even escape your stares at common room parties. What do you want?” The irritation in my voice is not suppressed by my volume, low as not to disturb the others around us still working on their invisibility potions. 

“Little bird-” He starts.

“I told you not to call me that.” Yet it still makes my heart palpitate, if only for a short while.

“Little bird,” I roll my eyes. “it is not a crime to stare. I just happen to be admiring one of the many beautiful wonders in Hogwarts.” 

“Dream on, Potter. Weren’t you just flirting with one of your precious fellow Gryffindors in Muggle Studies not even an hour ago?” I walk away from him and back to my station to clean up. I sadly hear his footsteps not too far behind me.

“Someone sounds jealous.” He accuses in a calmish tone. 

The bad part is I think he’s right. The worst part is, I know he’s right. He’s annoying, an ass, an extremely corny flirt, yet I don’t entirely hate when he’s around. He tells decent jokes and I enjoy the pranks he and his friends pull on Filch. It almost feels wrong to like him. I’d hate to be that type of girl that easily falls for a guy just because of a smile and the slightest bit of attention. 

“Someone sounds delusional.” I refute. 

“Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to clean up your stations and return Friday with Leech Juice, Shrivelfig Fruit, and Stench of the Dead for Thunderbrew. Oh, and Miss Jones, please see me after class.” Poor Gwenog could only escape the Slug Club talk for so long. 

“I’ll be right back.” James informs me with haste. 

His feet match the speed in which he spoke. He’s gone back to his cauldron before I get the chance to fully turn around. After putting my book and potion in my bag and casting the cleaning charm on the cauldron, I send it back to my room and turn to the door. I’m about two steps into the hall when I feel his presence right behind me yet again.

“James, this is borderline stalking. Don’t you have something to go blow up with your friends?” 

He walks ahead and opens one of the double doors, letting me through without having to switch my books under one arm. I debate taking the floo flames near the arched opening at the end of the hall to get to my common room quicker, but there’s this feeling inside of me, a yearning, that wants to just keep walking. 

“It’s only stalking if it’s unwanted.” He grabs my books and continues to walk next to me, forcing everyone else who was walking from the central hall. It’s not the narrowest hallway, but him and his strut insist on walking smack dab in the middle of the hall. 

“I doubt that’s correct.” 

We make a right and ascend the stairs to the heart of the castle. Only a few students litter around the found and near the staircases, indicating that some of us actually decided to go to class today or are in Hogsmeade to await detention when they are inevitably caught. Ferdinand spies on the students in The Three Broomsticks and runs (as far as a portrait can run any way) to the nearest professor to tell on us. I swear he’s worse than Peeves. I’m surprised no one has stolen his frame and placed him in Hog’s Head or burned him. 

“Besides, who said your attention was wanted?” My tone holds a slight hint of teasing as I make another and continue to walk up 2 more sets of stairs. 

“Possibly the fact that you haven’t used depulso on me yet.” I smile to myself, glad that he’s able to work with my wit.

“I wouldn’t be so harsh. You’re only a minor nuisance.” 

I make the mistake of looking over to him and I am instantly hit with the curiosity of how he is still single. He’s the ideal boyfriend height, popular, funny, and caring. Some of his pranks are annoying, but they’re never with malice intent. I do slightly agree that this school needs to light up a little. And his hair, I mean, the most perfect set of loose curls you’ve ever seen. His round glasses enhance his attractiveness rather than a dork like I did my first few years here. Not to mention he smells amazing. Like coffee and eucalyptus with a hint of tobacco from the ciggies that he smokes.

“So you’re saying I have a chance of taking you out?” I pause my steps at the landing between the steps behind us and the next on my left. 

“Now when did I say that?”

“You didn’t not say it.” I blink up at him once and again a few seconds later. Only him. My head leans down as I chuckle. 

“Fine, one date. You have one date to impress me. This Friday after Magical Theory. Meet me at the boat house.” 

I don’t miss his subtle fist pump to himself as I take my books from his right arm and walk up to the floo flames. 

“Wait! Why the boat house?” He asks after I’ve told the floo to take me to the common room. I shrug.

“I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic date.” With a wave, I step in and let the flames take me where I directed. 

—-------------------------------

I caress the corduroy material of my skirt while gently swishing my feet in the water at the bottom of the wooden ramp. The sound of the tiny waves the water makes due to the slight breeze that’s running through. The sound of nearby trees accompany the water, tempting me to doze off until James gets here. 

“I made sure to get one of everything from the kitchens.” I turn my head to see James holding a basket and a goofy smile on his face. It's small and sincere, yet still goofy.

“You’re abusing the elves. Pitts should put you to work considering how much you’re down there.” I return the smile before drying off my feet and putting my shoes back on and walking to him. 

“He only makes you work if you’re there for detention.” Smug.

“Speaking from experience?” 

I gently take his hand in mine and walk around to the outside where the extra boats are stored. We sit down, swinging our feet over the edge of the ground. The water isn’t high enough here to wet our shoes and we have a perfect view of the castle. That’s why I chose this spot. One would think that you’d be sick of looking at the place that you’re stuck at for almost 9 months out of the year, but I still find the beauty in it years later. I’ll miss this place dearly when it’s time to graduate. 

“No. Maybe. Okay, fine. Yes, but only because I made that tiny puddle in the trophy room.”

“Ha, tiny puddle my ass! You flooded the whole room plus the hallways that surrounds it. I’ve never seen Filch that pissed off before. I was sure he was about to explode and tap into the power he was never given.” It’s hard for us to do much besides laugh as we recall the memory.

After a few “okay”’s and “okay seriously”’s, we open up the basket and take out the spread. More stories are told between the both of us as we let the world go on around us. I find out about his long lineage of Gryffindors and I tell him of my lineage of Ravenclaws. We grew up similar, with my family being a little more strict. Time seemingly flies by and it saddens me in an unfamiliar manner. A feeling I can’t place. I miss him? How can you miss someone who is still in your presence?

“Hey, where’d you go?” His serious tone startles me out of my thoughts. I look over to him and give him a lopsided smile.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I believe I have feelings for you, James Potter.” A sarcastic chuckle flows from my lips before I can stop it. “In one afternoon, you have somehow forced me to admit the impossible. Well, not the impossible. Not that it’s impossible for anyone to like you! I just didn’t think that I wou-” 

He encloses my cheek in this palm of his hand and gently brings our faces together until our lips touch. I don’t resist and let my lashes kiss the apples of my cheeks as I sink into the kiss. It’s not a particularly long kiss. Short enough to have me silently praying to Merlin that it could have gone on longer. I chase his lips when he pulls away and my eyes flutter open. 

“Why’d you stop?” I ask in a whisper.

“I want to show you something.” I look at him bewildered. He fails to notice as he rushes to pack everything up and help me up.

“Now?”

“Now.”

We’re back in the boat house and in front of the floo flames. I’m still trying to process how his lips felt on mine, smooth and pillowy soft. No rush and definitely better than the last person I kissed. I can’t believe he stopped. Didn’t even give me enough time to savor it. I don't realize that he had the flames take us to the greenhouses until I look up and see the giant wisteria tree that sits in the middle of the entrance. I give him a deadpanned, and slightly irritated look when I realize where we are. 

“You stopped kissing me so we could come to the greenhouse? I love plants, but I preferred the other thing we were doing.”

“Hush.” He kisses me on the cheek and leads me down the curved steps closest to us and down the path to the greenhouse tree. It’s deeply rooted into the castle, so it sits in a small pool of water. What I never noticed is the stairway on the side that leads below ground. 

We walk, a little faster than I intend, down the spiral stairs and passed an archway that reveals to be some sort of storage place, but also displays the trunk of the tree through glass windows.

“Godric, how did you stumble upon this place? It’s gorgeous! Wait, why are we here?” I touch the glass lightly in wonder that such a place has existed all this time and I never knew about it. 

“Well, little bird, I figured that it was time for you to give your wings a rest. Here, come lie down with me.” I turn to find a set up of blankets and pillows and him nonchalantly sitting there as if this array of cushions has been here this whole time.

I follow his directions and sit down next to him. My head finds a home on his shoulder and I watch the water bubbles float to the top. Now that I have calmed down, I’m glad he took me here. It's quite gorgeous. Right as I get comfortable, he shifts up and moves behind me. With one leg on either side of me, he pulls me closer to his chest. 

“You okay there, Mr. Potter?” I put my arms on the outside of his bent legs, letting my hands rest on his knees. 

“Perfect.” The tips of his fingers lightly trace up and down my arm. My eyes close on instinct. I lean back into him and let my body focus on the one sensation, sighing as I do so. 

“Is there a reason you were so reluctant to go out with me?”

My heart takes a hit at his question. A question I’m not sure how to answer without saying bitter or pathetic. A question that I don’t know the true answer to. 

“I mean, you’re James Potter. One of, if not the most popular guy in school. You run around with your friends pranking anyone and everyone. No offense, but why would I take you seriously about wanting to go out with me? We’re on different calibers and just by recalling what you told me about your family, you guys don’t venture outside of your houses when it comes to the romance department.”

He’s quiet, and it makes me nervous. Did I deeply offend him? Is there going to be another date after this? Did I completely fuck everything up? His hum interrupts my internal spiraling.

“Well, you got me there. Everything you said is true,” His hand begins to trace the top of my thigh, inching closer to the inside. I subtly, but slowly open them up. I don’t know why, but I assume my body does. “However, that has nothing to do with you and my feelings towards you.”

He traces the apex of my thigh. Starting at my knee, down to the crease that joins my thigh and hip, and back up. 

“We’re both equally popular, so I’m not sure that was a mark against me.” I open my mouth to rebuttal, but he beats me to it, “You may not know it, but you, my dear, are very popular.”

My skirt has now become a mini with the opening of my thighs pushing it up. The tip of his middle finger skirts the hem of my underwear. It’s such a simple touch, not even touching anything truly intimate, yet I gasp in pleasure at it. 

“James,” I lightly huff.

He ignores what sounds as a plea and proceeds to gently push down on my clit. “As for the other things, I heard that girls like funny guys. It seems you do since I’ve caught you laughing a time or two whenever I set off fireworks in the Great Hall or throw a dungbomb in Charms.” The circles he draws causes my back to arch and push myself more into his hand. 

“As for my family, I happen to not be like them. I prefer to venture out and experience more.” He finally slips his hand inside of my underwear and makes contact with my clit bare. His finger slides in between my inner lips and collects the already formed arousal, then he brings it back up to continue circling my clit.

“J-James,” The air thickens in my throat. I gather any air I can, but the sensation from him touching me makes that more important than breathing. 

With my hand on his, I direct him further down to my entrance and ease his middle and ring fingers inside of me. The thrusts are slow, but deep. Each whimper that escapes my lips becomes prominent after the last. I have to fight the urge for my thighs to close around his hand. The palm of his hand rubs perfectly against my clit when his fingers switch from pumping pressing up against the squishy part inside of me that causes a pornographic moan to fill the room. 

“Such a good girl, birdie. Come on, cum for me.” His fingers return to my clit, with a little bit more pressure, completely undoing me. 

My thighs entrap his hand and I hold on to his arm. His coos and praise help ground me after a few minutes. I’m eventually able to relax my thighs and let go of his arm. He whispers a “good job” in my ear before softly pecking my cheek. When my clit stops throbbing, he pulls his hand out of my underwear, revealing my cum completely blanketed over his fingers and thinner layers scattered on his palm. 

“Is my attention still unwanted?” I can feel the smirk from a mile away. I turn around and softly connect our lips before responding.

“Yes.” I tease. Our lips are a mere centimeter apart, letting mine brush against his as I speak.

“You make the prettiest moans, you know that?” My eyes widen and I turn my head to the side to avoid eye contact, closing mine in embarrassment at his words.

“Hey,” with a gentle hand he makes me face him again, “can I hear some more?”

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James Masterlist | United Kingdom

[resident-gay-bitch]

you can now find eddies pov here :))

this wasn’t going to be easy, and that was a fact.

dustin was already distraught, a blabbering fucking mess for the entire walk from the town centre to the creel house in this slimy godforsaken underworld.

they were already at their wits end, with barely a string of hope left when eddie stepped in. eddie, who was now a bad guy apparently. steve had to tackle dustin to the ground when eddie first swooped in and tried to slice nancys throat open with his claw because dustin just wanted to hug him.

that was hard enough. everything was hard enough. but now steve had to face - and probably be the one to kill because he was the brawn if nancy couldn’t - the very man who had been haunting his dreams for months and led him to ask robin the question of how she knew.

he was… rabid. clothes ripped and clinging to his body in unnatural ways, his hair a fucking wild mess, his eyes glowing red, his skin paler than usual, the tips of his fingers now black and sharp like talons, extra teeth that were far sharper than teeth should ever be, a snake like tongue, wings!, and not to mention he was soaked in blood. he had it dripping from his chin for fucks sake.

whatever that thing was, it wasn’t eddie.

but it was.

so they’d spent the past hour trying to hide and calm dustin and devise a new plan, whilst trying to survive in this hell.

yeah this was going to be the hardest thing steve’s ever done.

he was probably going to die today.

well, if he died at the hands- claws of eddie, then at least he’d be dying with something beautiful. monster or not.

they stepped back out into the road, steve leading the pack and nancy covering the back.

something swooped overhead, casting a wide shadow, and by the break in dustin’s voice, steve knew it was the eddie thing.

he looked up to see the beast pearched atop a stobie poll, crouched with his hands between his feet like an animal, his wings hanging down behind him.

he looked right at steve, and steve felt his heart stop.

covered in blood and fucking terrifying, steve still loved him.

more than ever, actually.

eddie cocked his head to the side, just looking at steve.

steve adjusted the grip of his nail bat over his shoulder, ready in position to swing. he heard nancy cock her gun, he heard mike and dustin grab onto eachother, and noticed el stepping up beside him at the ready.

eddie just sat there. he moved his head slowly forward, like he was trying to get a better look. he was assessing them, probably, figuring out the quickest way to kill them all without getting hurt.

it made steve sweat.

if eddie wasn’t so high right now, steve would just charge and take a swing. get this over with. give the kids the best advantage.

eddie quickly straightened his head out and made a sound. it was a weird sound. sort of like a creepy roll of his tongue and then a click. it sounded far too much like a demo dog for steve’s comfort.

everyone froze at eddie’s sudden moment and then started looking around after he’d made the sound.

had he called for help?

steve clenched his jaw and gripped the bat tighter, eyes fixed on eddie.

eddie raised his wings up high, spread out wide and they were big. like fucking massive. steve was sure one wing alone was longer than he was.

everyone braced for impact.

eddie made the sound again and stood, standing tall atop the electricity pole, and then he made another sound that was more like a birds chirp (if the bird was dying).

and then he moved, and everyone made sudden noise and yielded his weapons but then stopped not a second later.

eddie was falling.

he was just freefalling backwards off the stobie poll with his hands clutched at his heart.

right before he hit the ground, his wings kicked up into action and carried him back up into the air. and once he was high enough, really fucking high, he dropped again.

steve was confused.

eddie dropped and then… oh shit, he wrapped his wings around himself and was fucking spiraling through the air like an arrow, heading straight for steve.

he heard will shout to run, and everyone jumped back but-

steve was on the ground, groaning and trying to fight eddie off who was on top of him, pinning him down. steve didn’t know where his bat went.

eddie was looking at him with wide eyes.

steve’s jumped out of his skin, screaming when he heard nancys gunshot.

silence.

eddie made a small sound, a shrill one, like he was hurt.

oh he was hurt.

eddie turned his head and spread out his wing and steve could see a perfect circle cut through it. eddie looked at it, then moved his wing out of the way to scowl at nancy.

this couldn’t be good.

eddie snarled at her, his snake like tongue darting out to his before he was grabbing steve and lifting them up into the air.

steve screamed, he’d never been this high before.

nancy had aimed her gun to shoot again but dustin stopped her, there was a very good chance she’d hit steve if she did.

steve didn’t know where his bat was.

eddie started flying, steve clutched tight in his arms and he had no clue where they were going because he had his eyes squeezed shut.

he was so gonna die like this.

and then they stopped, and steve was being layed down on something… soft?

he opened his eyes to find eddie crouched over him again, his hands between his feet like before, his wings draped down behind him, his head cocked as red eyes blinked at steve curiously.

steve rubbed his head and looked around to find that he was… in the highschool theatre dressing room? he only recognised it because it was a classic in school make out spot.

he was laying on a pile of pillows and ratty old blankets that were piled on top of a few mattresses. pillows, big and small, were piled up even higher around the mattresses and it looked… it looked like a nest.

eddie made the clicky sound again and then chirped happily and crawled away.

steve was beyond confused.

he sat up and looked around.

beside him was an old mangled bear, there was just a pile of flannel shirts in one corner of the nest, eddie’s guitar was leaning up against the edge of the nest wall, there were those weirdly shaped dice dustin always carried scattered around, and… oh.

steve moved a pillow to the side a little to find his old varsity jacket stuffed there. it was dirty and a little wear for tear, but everything was in the upside down.

he wondered why eddie had it.

he moved the pillow some more to find one of his shirts there too. and then he lifted a blanket to find a whole collection of his clothes! a few shirts, a red jumper, three odd socks and one matching pair, a pair of purple boxers, his old basketball shorts, a singular sneaker that matched the one on his foot now, and a yellow sweater that steve recognised as the one he threw at eddie on the boat.

steve pet his own chest to feel the familiar bumps of the pins and patches of eddie’s battle vest laid there.

oh.

oh they- they were the same.

they missed eachother.

they barely knew eachother, but they missed not being able to learn.

steve spun around when he felt eddie’s presence again, and eddie was sitting in his same weird stance, but this time right beside steve, his face abnormally close.

steve kinda freaked out.

eddie cocked his head again, blinked those wide eyes that steve couldn’t find scary, even under the red.

steve held up the varsity jacket in one hand and gave it a waggle. eddie looked at it and then looked back at steve, then back at the jacket, then back at steve, and then he purred.

steve didn’t know why it gave him butterflies.

eddie nodded his head forward until his head bumped steve’s shoulder, and then he looked back up with those wide eyes again.

“it’s yours.” steve said simply, tugging at the sleeve of eddie’s vest on himself, “i know, i’m sorry. i hope you don’t mind. it helped ground me on the bad days.”

eddie cocked his head.

“can you understand me?” steve asked.

eddie nodded.

steve was very glad to hear that, “can you talk like me?”

eddie just looked at him.

steve sighed, “i’ll take that as a no.” he hummed, “you have a lot of my things.”

eddie dropped something else on his lap.

their old year book from eighty two. steve opened it up to the page that was indented, obviously eddie looked at it a lot.

on the page was a picture of the swim team, steve posing in one picture with one other guy - the co captains - however, the other guys face had been covered by a cutout of eddie’s face. above it in red sharpie wrote “by the time you graduate, this will be real, and he will be nice and want you back”.

steve couldn’t help his laugh.

eddie crushed on him in highschool?

steve stopped his laughing when eddie made a sharp sound of protest, and steve looked up to see his already wide eyes even wider and… a pout?

oh god, he was making a puppy dog face at steve right now.

god, steve had heard so much about his puppy dog face from wayne, he’d dreamed about being on the receiving end of one himself. and here he was, only it was different now. he had pale skin and dark eyes and blood on his chin.

steve closed his mouth and looked at the pleading expression on eddie's still pretty face, and kinda melted.

"you technically still haven't graduated, you know?" steve found himself saying, and he didn't know why. eddie was technically a demon or something. steve should be running for the hills, but...

eddie made a chipy clicky sound again and then suddenly something wet was touching his cheek and- okay, eddie was licking him.

eddie was liking him a lot, like a dog.

steve laughed and pulled away and smiled at eddie, "licking? really?"

eddie smiled and nodded, shuffled steve back into the steve pile under the blankets and made him rest there. steve did lay, and rest, leant up against the pile of pillows and old clothes. he'd forgoten all about the high stakes of everything, because all he could think about was eddie. eddie here, alive- not really there, but here no less.

eddie shoved steve into the shape he wanted and then grabbed the old mangled teddy with his teeth and crawled over to steve. he dropped himself down heavily into steves lap - causing him to jolt forward and gasp from the sudden weight and pain - and curled up. his wings wrapped around steve, caving him in. eddie nussled his head against steves chest, under the opening of the vest, the mangled teddy clutched tight in his arms, and then he purred again, a big long one.

it was so warm like this.

steve didn't care if eddie wasn't really eddie anymore, because deep down inside, he was still every bit eddie that he could be. it was this world that had turned him into something else.

plus, who was he to judge? steve was a much uglier monster at one point in his life too, bulying and kicking people to the ground during highschool, but he was still good at heart these days. eddie could be too.

he was.

there was no doubt about it.

steve ran his hand over - not through because he physically couldn't - eddie's hair and held him close, and they rested there together for a while, in eddie's home.

saving the world could wait a little while.

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

Chapter II

Silence takes over the courtyard as Commandant Panchek stands stunned on the dais in the front. “Come again, rider? How dare you interrupt-“

The boy steps to the side, revealing my lingering figure behind him and the mans face pales instantly when his eyes find my glaring ones. Fear strikes his face.

Damn, I know that my father is scary, and his reputation is ahead of him but that the higher ups still shit their pants when they see me will never not surprise me. That makes me think … how many people around here, besides the Commandant, did father informed that I'll join Basgiath this year?

“A-ah Cadet! I-it’s great to see you’ve made it safely across the Parapet.” Did he- did he just stutter?! My face surely must show amusement because he tries to hide his nervousness and fear with a shit eating grin. If one word describes this man, then it’s pathetic.

He turns to another third year I know all too well – Fen Riorsons son, Xaden. The bane of my father’s existence. He already warned me about my future wingleader and the other “marked ones”.

Xaden looks good though, even with the confused frown on his face that almost everyone up there wears since I arrived with the rider next to- oh well. Not next to me anymore. He must have went off to find his squad.

I can feel the stares on me and hear the whispers of the other cadets on me, while my glare is still fixated on the persons up the dais. My bet is, Panchek tells them who I am and that they discuss which wing I’ll join, even though General Melgren and Sorrengail made it crystal clear where I'll be going.

Suddenly Xaden tenses and throws a quick glance over his shoulder with fury in his eyes to which I only lift an eyebrow in question when our eyes meet. Then he turns back to the others and nods.

The crowd is waiting patiently for them to finish up and it’s Panchek who steps forward again.

“As I was saying, three hundred and two of you have survived the Parapet to become cadets today,” he wears that political slimy smile again. “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.”

Well, that’s unfortunate. My guess is that the weather had a big impact on those numbers, but it could have been that asshole that threw other candidates from the Parapet down like he owns the place. A shiver runs down my spine while thinking he lingers around somewhere, possibly making friends that are as crazy as him. Shits about to get real when my name is revealed, and I don`t know what I should hope for, but I fear the worst.

He talks about the Codex and what we should expect during our first year while he gestures wildly with his hands. All talk, no bite this man. I had the unfortunate luck to meet him more than just once through my father’s career and I did not enjoy his company any fucking minute. He is annoying as hell and wants General Sorrengails position first, and then my fathers. As if that would ever happen, when father’s signet is one of the most important on the continent and when he has Codagh.

“… My best advice? Don’t die.” Easier said than done.

He walks off the dais with his executive commandant in tow but not without throwing a quick glance my way. Please just go away.

A brunette woman steps forward and calls out the section and squad leaders to take their positions. While finding their place in the front, Dain Aetos eyes meet mine over the distance, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to study me, nice try buddy. He stands in the section of Second Wing; I think he is squad leader for Flame Section if I recall right.

We met each other over a year ago through Violet, since he is or was her best friend. I never liked him, too much of a “we have to strictly follow the rules” guy. But he isn't really fond of me too, thinks I am a bad influence on Violet.

One by one, cadets find their way into formation and soon Second Wing is called.

“Violet Sorrengail. Second Squad! Flame Section! Second Wing!”

Thank god's she is alive, but wait- those were not General Sorrengails orders!!? This is really bad and after finding said girl in the masses she seems to be relieved, but when I let my gaze fall on Dain again– oh? I see how it is. He must have something to do with this, because he has the audacity to smirk when his eyes find mine again. But I know it better than him, he won't be laughing for long.

Violet and her friend (?) walk over to their assigned squad and take place into formation. Third Wing is called and after that Fourth Wing. Time to shine – or not. I am one of the last cadets to be called into formation.

“Arya Melgren. Second Squad! Flame Section! Fourth Wing!” Xaden calls out.

There are more than just a few startled gasps and shocked whispers of my last name.

Only a handful of carefully selected people, mostly leadership, my teachers/trainers plus Violet and Dain, know about my existence, so I am not surprised that the majority here had no fucking clue that General Melgren has a daughter. Even the wingleader, beside Riorson, and their executives look uncomfortable.

I quickly make my way into formation while Xaden is busy studying Violet, trying to find out how the fuck he gets her into Fourth Wing and with the little tilt of his head I think he figured out what to do. He turns his back to the crowd to talk to the wingleader of Second Squad, and then the other two wingleader joins what seems to be a heated discussion. Whispers fills the Rotunda as everyone is waiting for further instructions from their leaders. They turn back and Xadens smirk tells me he got what he wanted. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t want to be in General Sorrengails wrath when she finds out that her daughter would have been somewhere else than the assigned wing.

“Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” Nyra orders. My squad.

“Follow me” Beinhaven says and steps forward with her squad following. Well, everyone but me, I have specific orders from above. And while my now ex-squad gives me confused stares as they're passing me, Xaden and I share a quick glance. He nods once and I know, I stay where I am, about to join Aetos squad.

Aetos and his squad find their way into my direction, the squad leader at the front.

“Aetos” I greet him with a grin on my lips, arms crossed. I`ll annoy the fuck out of him this year, this will be so much fun. “Melgren,” he replies with a frown on his face, “I believe your squad is now in Second Wing.”

“I am right where I belong to. Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second Squad. Those were the orders” I say, my gaze hardening to underline what I am hinting at. Realization crosses his face, and he grows uncomfortable under my glare.

“Into formation, Second Squad!” he orders with a hiss when he notices cadets lingering around.

Violet and her friend find their place next to me, greeting me with a gentle smile which I gladly return. “Arya, I am glad to see you.” “Same goes for you, Silver One. I am happy to see you made it safely.”

The dark tanned girl next to her scoffs at my response, which confuses me. “Hardly” she murmurs.

My eyes find Violets blue ones with question marks all over my face. She leans over and whispers “A guy from now First Wing tried to kill me after throwing another candidate down the Parapet, Jack Barlowe is his name” in my ear. Oh shit, that must have been the asshole I saw earlier when I observed the candidates.

Eyes widening, I quickly scan her for possible injuries but to my relief, I find none.

“Quiet” Dain hisses in front of us.

Our focus shifts back up the dais where Xaden steps forward. Violet tenses as she keeps eye contact with our wingleader. I take her hand into mine to ease her nerves, which doesn`t goes unnoticed by her friend. Shit, I need to ask Vi for her name before I embarrass myself.

“Rhiannon Matthias” the girl whispers to which I send a thankful nod and a gentle smile, getting a grin back in return.

“You’re all cadets now,” Xadens voice caries out over the formations. “Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon? Earn one.”

Some cadets cheer like they already have a dragon, but the three of us stay quiet. There is nothing to cheer about in this hellhole.

I space out while Xaden edges the crowd but along the cheers … there is something different. It’s not just cheering, that`s-

“Oh gods, they are beautiful” Rhiannon whispers as my gaze shifts to the sky. There they are – the dragons belonging to the leadership of the Riders Quadrant.

Unbelievably gorgeous and incredibly deadly at the same time. It’s always unsettling to be around Codagh, since he is the biggest dragon on the continent and given our history, but Sgaeyl, Xadens dragon – she is undeniable fascinating and terrifying. Especially when she stares into Violets eyes like she wants to eat her.

A cadet bolds out of formation, screaming and trying to get away from here. All hell breaks loose.