#viral writing

[gentle-author]

Δεν νομίζω πως έχω δει ποτέ πιο ερωτευμένους ανθρώπους σε αυτή τη ζωή (και επιβεβαιώνω πως αυτό ισχύει και σε κάθε άλλη υπαρκτή ή και όχι, ζωή).

Μπορούσα δίχως δεύτερες σκέψεις να τους αντιστοιχίσω με τον ορισμό του έρωτα στο λεξικό του Μπαμπινιώτη.

Ίσως να έβαζα και μία φωτογραφία τους δίπλα.

Ετσι, για έμφαση. Έτσι, για γούρι. Έτσι, για να το δουν όλοι. Έτσι, για να μη ξεχαστεί ποτέ ο έρωτάς τους.

Θα ήταν κρίμα κι άδικο. Πιθανόν και καταστροφικό.

Δεν υπάρχουν πολλοί έρωτες σαν κι αυτόν την σήμερον ημέρα.

Τόσες φωτογραφίες μα πάντα θα επιλέγω αυτή τη μία- την αγαπημένη μου. Εκείνη όπου ξαπλώνουν αγκαλιά στα ολόλευκα σεντόνια, όταν τα ροδοπέταλα με το ζόρι καλύπτουν τις ακάλυπτες γωνίες του κρεβατιού.

Ίσως και να μην έχω ξαναδεί πιο όμορφη εικόνα. Δεν ξέρω καν αν την βλέπω... περισσότερο νομίζω πως την νιώθω.

Είναι πολύ νωρίς ακόμη, με το ζόρι έχει χαράξει η αυγούλα. Ωστόσο, ένα κρύο ρεύμα διαπερνά τις καταγάλανες κουρτίνες και αγκαλιάζει τα ευαίσθητα κορμιά τους, δημιουργώντας γαλανά κύματα γύρω από τη μέση της και καταπράσινα κύματα γύρω από τον σβέρκο του. Δεν ξέρω πώς και γιατί, αλλά οι κουρτίνες ταιριάζουν απίστευτα με το απαλό πράσινο του τοίχου. Γενικά, το δωμάτιο είναι ένα μείγμα γαλανού και πράσινου χρώματος, έρχονται σε πλήρη αντιστοιχία με τα μάτια τους.

Με πιάνει γέλιο όταν σκέφτομαι πως μια ποιήτρια αναγεννήθηκε μέσα από την αγάπη ενός στρατιωτικού, αλλά και πως αυτος ο ένας στρατιωτικός ανεπνευσε μέσα από τον έρωτα μιας ποιήτριας.

Το δωμάτιό τους θυμίζει όνειρο, κινηματογραφική σκηνή, προσφιλές προς όλους τους σινεφίλ -κι αυτοί δεν είναι σινεφίλ -ας τονιστεί.

Η βελούδινη θάλασσα εκείνο το πρωινό αγκάλιαζε τη στεριά με τα ατίθασα κύματά της και εκείνα εσκαγαν με θαλπωρή στα ανυπόμονα βράχια.

Εγώ πάντοτε θαμπώνομαι από την ένταση του έρωτά τους. Ζηλεύω καθώς φαντάζομαι πόσο τρυφερό είναι να βλέπεις τις κατάξανθες τούφες από τα μαλλιά της να αγκαλιάζουν με απαλότητα τα μεταξένια του μαλλιά από κανέλλα. Η αντίθεση του δέρματός τους κάνει την καρδιά μου να φτερουγίζει- πόσο μάλλον τη δικιά τους. Με πιάνει ρίγη όταν την χαϊδεύει με τα δάχτυλα του από κάτω προς τα πάνω και τα μπλεκει στις ξανθές της τούφες. Τίποτα όμως δεν συγκρίνεται με την συγκίνηση που νιώθω όταν εκείνη τον κοιτάει, με αυτά τα γαλανά τα μάτια, με αυτό το γλαφυρό ύφος, αυτό το βλέμμα που σε μαγνητίζει, που σε κάνει να ξεχνάς το όνομά σου, που σε κάνει να βυθίζεσαι μέσα του, να αναπνέεις ξανά από την αρχή, να μαθαίνεις να περπατάς για πρώτη φορά, να γράφεις, να μιλάς, να ζεις.

Κάθε φορά που την κοιτάζει εκείνος κλαίει. Δεν ξέρω ούτε εγώ πόσο την αγαπάει. Και πόσο τον αγαπάει. Κάνουν έρωτα και μαζί τους κάνει έρωτα η γη με τον ουρανό. Μένουν αγκαλιά και μαζί τους αγκαλιάζονται ο Βορράς με τον Νότο. Της δίνει ένα φιλί και η φύση χαμογελάει. Τον κοιτάει και επανέρχεται ειρήνη στον κόσμο.

Αγαπιούνται και μαζί τους αγαπιούνται όλοι όσοι δεν μπόρεσαν ποτέ να αγαπηθούν. Τόσο αγαπιούνται που για χάρη τους γράφονται τόμοι ολόκληροι.

Τόσο σε αγαπάω που για χάρη σου γράφω την ψυχή μου ολόκληρη.

Copyright © 2025 Christine Aggeli. All rights reserved.

[theunknownpen]

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

It’s thanksgiving and Steve is making dinner for the guys, plus Robin, Chrissy, and Wayne. Steve is pulling out all of the stops— he’s making a turkey, a ham, Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, yams and marshmallows, stuffing, the works. His turkey isn’t even dry, which causes Freak to propose to Steve on the spot.

Everything is homemade and obviously super delicious. But, Steve isn’t paying attention to his omnipod and barely eats anything all day. He’s had little tastes of some stuff here and there to make sure that it tastes good, but besides that, it’s been nothing.

Eddie comes into the kitchen and finds Steve almost dead on his feet, monotonously stirring the gravy.

“Hey Stevie, how are you feeling?” He wraps his arms around Steve’s middle and turns the burner off, coaxing Steve to a seat at the table. “When was the last time you checked your level, my love?”

Steve shrugs and motions toward his diabetes pouch.

Eddie first checks Steve’s pod, then his phone to see how far off the app is, before pricking Steve’s finger.

“Yikes, babe. Let me get you a snack and a juice.” Eddie gently places a Garfield bandaid around Steve’s middle finger and kisses the top of his head. “Be right back, baby.”

Ten minutes later, Steve is feeling much better and lets Robin take care of the rest of the cooking. Eddie holds Steve hostage on the couch and continually monitors Steve’s blood sugar levels for the rest of the night.

Steve wakes up the next morning snuggled into a blanket burrito. His head is in eddie’s lap and they are both in the couch. His fingers feel faintly sore and he sees the bandaids on almost all of his fingers.

“Hey Eds?” Steve shakes his partner awake and plants a big kiss onto his lips.

“Yeah?” Eddie is rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching. “What’s up?”

Steve smiles. “Thank you for taking care of me. I love you. And I think we should get married tomorrow.”

Eddie laughs. “I love you too, Stevie. Can you wait until Saturday? I already have an appointment made at the courthouse.”

[inkprilled]

How do you feel about kindness being filmed like they’re performances. Someone hands a homeless person a sandwich, and boom, the cameras rolling. I’m a good person, they say without saying it, but the thing is a sandwich can only last so long, yet you'll be dining on those social media likes all week. Sure,it’s lovely, helping people. But here’s the thing: It’s sad that the world’s become a stage for doing good when you have a camera in your face, or worse in the face of someone struggling to live each day, they are not the supporting actors in your new tiktok. We don’t just help anymore. We sell the moment. Isn't it lovely though getting credit for being decent when your not just doing good. Your doing good for the algorithm.

[lady-hibiscus]

THERES UHC SHOOTER X READER YAOI NOW. AO3 NEVER CHANGE

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now

Modern!Aemond x Reader (three parts)

warnings (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering

a/n: I’ve been doing okay, but things have been complicated. There are times I wish someone would love and protect me like in the romance book—longing for a romantic life and longing for connection and consistency. I’m still clinging on. Oh, and I started to drive, I’ve gotten better at driving, but still need to learn. And my family has been cruel to me that even made me believe that no one will love me. But art is my passion, one thing that keeps me alive until now. And thank you guys, for supporting me. I love you guys very much.

The morning hair wasn’t cooperating; you took a nice long, hot shower the night before the interview—which you knew nothing about, and planned on spending time to read books and drink merlot and binge on snacks, or watching korean soap operas, being a usual daydreamer you are— and you were getting ready for the interview, groggy, and sobbing on the inside.

The iron curl is broken. And nothing to repair except for your roommate’s curler, tried to make the curls tighter, hence why you brushed your hair back for a softer effect.

Long story short, your friend has called in sick, and asked you to fill in the details for her. Nevertheless, a shy and innocent girl such as yourself. Under a bad weather, you have to fill in, that’s what a good friend does.

Any shenanigans and canceled during the day of interview meant blacklist.

The appointment must be that important.

Clad in knit white jacket with black lines, white top and silky pleated skirt, with your sideswept longish strands tucked in, you were sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit from misery, vomit from stomach pain, or vomit from an awful weather, you made sure your clean, it-girl makeup is on plastered to your sleepy expression, hoping no one would take you as a joke. Presenting as possible also means the downside of being insecure or inferior is low. But with amount of makeup you set up, you made sure you’re neither too plain nor extravagant.

Everything has to be balanced accordingly. But appearance willing to stand out, if the destiny allows it to be.

“You got that tape recorder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the interview sheet?”

“Got it right here in my purse.”

“How about the gift for him?”

Your brows knitted. “I have it all set. I don’t think he’s going to accept this. There’s no way in hell.”

“Not if it comes from gorgeous lady like you. You look prim and proper today! Ready to go at the Met Gala, Miss Victoria’s Secret Model?”

“Ha, as if! Besides, I can’t go in looking like a wet rag. They’ll kick me out.” Sprayed a fee spritz of the sweet, vanilla, cotton-candy smelling perfume on your neck and neckline over your interview getup.

“Funny.” Your friend howled a wet, sloppy and stuffy sneeze. “Don’t mind me, just get your round ass going before someone decides to come behind you and give it a good smack, and it’s not going to be me.”

She spilled a good part of the soup as your friend accidentally swallowed and slurped the noodle and coughed. Oops.

“Careful, that’s a $50 white carpet I just got,” you said with a tiny smile.

“I’m being careful,” your friend said, inspecting the bowl if the spicy soup spilled. And there’s none.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go ahead. Stay still.”

“And you stay naughty with your ass poking out,” your friend shouted behind you as you walked off.

You must achieve perfectionism at all costs. That’s what beauty is for.

~~~

As you entered the high floor of the building, the receptionists, looking flawless and elegant, greeted you, as if you’re another member of the company. Beautiful women with beautiful problems with beautiful men, you’d assume.

“Miss Stark?”

“Yes?” you replied, the receptionist insisted to take your coat off, but you politely refused with a sweet grin, but you gave your umbrella instead. Nonetheless, the secretary lead you to the high double doors—grey and glossy.

Immaculate.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now.”

And opened the door. By your mistake, you didn’t realize one of your items dropped, causing you to lunge forward and knees bruised, following by your personal items and paper for the interview flopped on the ground.

Your ankle received a sharp pain, pressuring.

By the glass window, a long-haired man in a steel grey suit pivoted his head around from the noise and approached. “Are you alright, miss?”

His voice tuned in your ears. You have never heard a voice with profound deepness and…seduction.

A realization pang when you found yourself agitating like a shy teenage girl in high school, a shy, awkward girl talking to a handsome guy. You bet he’s the type of guy who’s popular, but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him, or that he doesn’t occur to him as a benefit of being popular.

You’ve never seen him on papers and articles on the internet. No picture has come to a close when you glimpsed at him in person. Too long, in fact. You thought it would be an old man wanting more attention from the source of dangerous media.

He’s that gorgeous.

Immaculate. Neat.

And strictly punctual.

Is he taking his father’s place for the interview?

“I’m doing okay, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience,” you replied with modesty, nearly breaking the sweat on your brow.

Instead, he huffed, returning back to his desk and leaned himself over the table, awaiting. Watching. A faint scar outlined from the thin brow to cheekbone.

You’d assume he’s associated with dangerous people underground. Though you never knew him personally. Only an assumption.

“Sit,” he commanded, ever so still.

Gulping your parched throat, after drinking water and caffeine—you purchased on your way—in the car, heading for the massive building, you wondered drinking coffee has an effect on the stability in the nervous system. Sat on one of the empty green chairs, you had your utensil pen you bought online from a Japanese website and an aesthetic mini notebook, readying the questions. Flipping over the rippled pages, you studied over the questions, and as it turns out your friend has more of an aspect on the side of…inappropriate philosophy.

Nearly face palming yourself, you wanted to strangle your friend for setting you up for failure.

What the hell are you thinking, dude?

“Are you just going to sit there and act like a mousy librarian or are you going to interview me for the benefit of my time and success?”

Shoulder blades flinched at the sound of his tone. “Pardon me, sir,” you stated, nearly shitting your skirt and thong on his green velvet chair. And cleared your throat. “My first question is…” Your friend’s questions doesn’t give that much benefit for his time and success, so you tweaked your friend’s intentions to more of a productive approach. “How do you stabilize the company despite on the near downfall from the predecessor’s influential endeavors?”

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed. “You did your research on my father.”

In silence, your head inclined as acknowledgment.

“My father’s attempts on reclaim to the company was rather a long difficult process. His real endeavor was to lure people for…unsavory tasks and planned on passing his inheritance to his oldest daughter, my half-sister, Rhaenyra.”

Something in his statement was trying to say he wishes to air the dirty laundry. But you knew that he’s not an idiot.

“And how do you approach it compared to his “past” attempts?”

“Business travels had more suitable to catering and stabilizing the company in years, by speaking to several CEOs and their predecessors who are much more responsible to financial and stocks, how they be able to keep the staff members and their company intact in excellent condition and how business traveling has more benefits on success than staying in one place in one country. Their predecessors are much more controlling than how much stocks they hold—eventually they lost their staff and shares due to certain disadvantages. I learned both sides of the same coin, and I learned to take advantage of both.”

“By being fair and firm,” you assumed, pen scribbling. “You want to be superior and be well-respected, but you also try to be fair in all sides to keep a steady balance, hence why you travel to different countries to learn about different cultures and their ways of work culture, how they handle their staff and clients. And you looked at the bad effects to make sure no mistake is taken place.”

“Precisely.” Aemond smirked as you wrote along his statement.

Scribbling further down on the page until you flipped to a next one, you tweaked another question that your friend’s opposing curiosity has.

“With comes along the inheritance, and with the hefty influence of social media, how do you manage to steady the balance as well? With your father’s…whereabouts and the company, and with today’s social influence and societal aspects on differences, how else do you keep manage from falling?”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “It was a difficult process, and like any ordinary day, we strive for sanity to survive. Not everyone handles scandals correctly. While those who handle with promiscuity, I handled myself, the staff and the company with grace.”

“I assumed that some of the members who are in connections with you, have no ability to face the outcome with grace like you?” you said without thinking.

Aemond frowned at that. “Not everyone.”

“My apologies, sir.” You flipped the blank page over. “And with that said, how do you envision your company in the next 30 years?”

“The questions you asked are vitally intimidating. Are you trying to challenge me in a way?”

“For your benefit of time and success, yes.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Clever girl.”

Gulped again, you found your legs coiled to a tighter position. Hand nearly shook and released the pen, but caught on it.

Focus, (Y/N). No time to be naughty.

Stop being naughty. Don’t leave yourself along with naughty thoughts. You don’t want to jump on him.

Aemond sat down near you to another set of green velvet chair.

“Continue,” he said, almost sounded like a purr.

“I, uh,” you looked over your friend’s silly questions and alternate it with another. Meanwhile Aemond amused himself with your fluster. “With you as a CEO of the Targaryen Company, where do you find yourself in the next 20 years? Are you planning to be the CEO, or are you planning to inherit the company and stocks to someone new, someone who’s not related to you, even?”

Aemond’s head tilted to the side, his white-blond hair spilled over his right shoulder.

“I would like to know more about yourself, Miss Stark. For a woman who belongs to a prestigious family, your wit and tongue are sharp. Are you always this curious?”

“You’ve met them?”

His brow flicked up. “I met your father during the meeting sometime last week. He has a well-deserved reputation.”

Your hands clutched tighter.

Aemond squinted his hues. “There’s more than meets the eye. What is your name?”

Correcting your postured, you answered in delicate voice. “My name is (Y/N), sir. (Y/N) (L/N).”

Aemond hummed. “(Y/N). I never thought you took your friend’s place to interview me.”

“She’s sick.”

“Figures.”

Your brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“I can see the way you’re fidgeting to your pen.”

“How do you know her?”

“I know she’s not the brightest girl, nor a brightest student. I overheard her spoke once over a party on how she wanted to have a wonderful marriage with a wealthy man to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that sort of detail, but—”

Aemond took the folded paper from your hand. “Are you single? Are you interested in marriage besides marrying to your own company? Does your family know that I’m single?” He looked at you in disbelief and said, “I’m surprised you have thought of particular questions you asked on the spot despite the opposing questions your friend makes.”

“It’s a job interview. It’s meant to be taken seriously.”

“And you did well, Miss (Y/N). Therefore, I wished to know more about you.” His back leaned in on a large chair frame, as he tossed the folded paper on a small coffee table. “What are you studying right now?”

“I major in history and art.”

“What are your favorite things to do on your spare time?”

“I like to go to the gym. Go to Starbucks and drink coffee. Sometimes I make coffee at home, and then…I sometimes read and watch a lot of shows…”

“What kind of shows?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“So it’s romance?”

“Yes, but a different kind of romance…” you stated, awkward.

Aemond titled his head again.

You shifted in your seat.

“It’s a…um….”

He chuckled. “I never meant to put you on a spot, Miss (L/N), I apologize. So what are your plans regarding to work?”

“I’m studying at the moment for my finals.”

Aemond uncrossed his legs, his back leaned forward, gazing to your eyes. “I would like for you to be as my secretary.”

Your lips parted.

“There’s an internship that I’m offering at the current moment. More benefits for my staff and PTO.”

You leaned back and thought of the offer, but Aemond stopped you.

“What sort of books are you into, Miss (Y/N)? If I were to guess, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy, which author do you prefer?”

“I prefer Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Aemond folded his hands together. “Sad and poetic?”

“It’s the closest thing to reality. I don’t mind Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy. Although Tom Hardy’s stories are also considered as tragic. But..reading modern romance novels isn’t so bad. But I found myself more addictive to coffee, fashionable clothes and beauty products more now.”

You found yourself smiling at that. The sharp gasp filled in your throat when Aemond’s hand reached you, and tugged the band wrapped around your hair, loosening it, and combed the silk, lustrous strands through his fingertips, staring at you.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You nearly pinched yourself before the secretary entered. “There’s a meeting in the conference room. Another company has requested for your presence.”

Aemond retrieved his hand on time. “I’ll be there soon.”

The door closed as you said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” And a heavy thud clashed onto the ground. It was a gift. For him.

“For you,” you said, handing the gift over.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.”

Aemond chuckled shortly. “I don’t eat sweets, Miss (L/N).”

As you got up from the seat, Aemond’s hand grasp for your wrist, making your head turn to meet his beautiful eyes. “Think about my offer,” he said, along that, he handed you his card by tucking the card in on one of your back pocket of your skirt, lingering on feeling your round ass than how someone touched you.

With that, you bowed and left his spacious offer, leaving him with wonder and amazement.

He ripped out the ribbon and wrap, revealing it to be compliments for him. Chocolates—as you claimed—and framed translucent glass with a green ink dragon inside.

He ripped one of the pieces from the chocolate box and ate one. Sweet, like yours. He wondered what you would feel and taste like.

Aemond found himself a new toy to play with. Another bite of the caramelized chocolate, with finding himself in an entrance with you, he has his sights on you. And thus dialing the phone number on his smartphone.

“Sir?” a voice said on the other side of the phone call.

“Hello. I have a task for you. You won’t fail me.”

One taste of you, and he won’t ever plan on letting you go.

~~~

Heavy door slammed shut and met up with your friend again.

“Sooo…how’s your meeting with him? What’s he like?”

“He’s…nice?”

“Nice? Saying the word ‘nice’ is automatically a code for friend zone.”

“No, I mean, he, he’s intimidating, and yet he’s able to answer my questions.”

“You mean my questions?”

You handed over your notebook to your friend on your original questions. “Wow, even I can’t ask a question like that.”

“Aemond found out that I stepped in for the interview instead of you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He met your father last week. And he already knows what you look like.”

“I never even knew him personally.”

“And he overheard you on how you wanted to marry a rich to make your ex jealous. That’s not something to easily slip by. Aemond has sharp ears and tongue.”

“Ugh, he caught me.”

“And yet those questions you wanted to ask him is simply more than an interview because why?”

“Because no one knows about him personally.”

“Yeah, but on a matter of a serious spectrum, not a flirtation. Do you even find him attractive, or do you want to set up with his siblings?”

“Ew, no, I don’t find Aemond handsome, but his other brothers do. Or his uncle.” Your friend looked over your interview questions. “Looks like he’s impressed by you.”

“He is.”

“So is he asking you out on a date?”

“No he asked me to be as his secretary.”

Your friend gasped. “No!”

“Yes, he is. He mentioned about the internship, and..”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t thought about it that much. I’m still studying for the finals.”

Your friend made a casual dismissive wave. “You’ll do great in the company and you get to see his gorgeous face everyday.”

“I thought you said he’s not your type.”

“He’s not. I like his uncle more. Older guys are my thing.”

“Right. Because older men knows how to take care because of their experience.”

“Exactly! I think you and Aemond are going to get along so well! Who knows you’ll get benefits. Even from him.” She winked and took the rest of the coffee.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the coffee!” And the bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you happy about today’s outcome.

Clapped your hands together, you said aloud to yourself, “Alright! Time for me to take a shower, get dressed and watch some drama on Netflix.” And cheered your way into the bathroom. “By the way,” you called your friend out, shouting, “I didn’t get to tape-record him!”

“WHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!” is what your frantic friend responded.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re undressed and soaked in the shower, Aemond’s pants unzipped, his hand caressed his large cock, pressed it harder as you scrubbed your legs and backside.

Delicious.

The bulge in his pants was ready to spring during the interview with you.

Thanks to the card he handed over by tucking it into your back pocket, he felt how good your ass looks. How your ponytail given him an impression that you’re a good girl on the outside but a bad girl was somewhere hiding, dying to get out.

Stroking his hard cock faster, moaning aloud—strained—as he watched you rinsed the soap from your body and stepped out of the shower with your tits bounced, remembering the perfume scent as Aemond went close to you. How he’ll perform his fantasies with you. Envisioned you, right next to a knife, he’ll play with blood trickling down on your skin alongside of bruises on your wrists on handcuffs.

It was beautiful.

Divine.

Cum spritz out, flying and plopping over his thighs, leaving him with a heavy huff and lustful gaze glueing to your naked body, drying up from a steamed shower.

She’ll be mine.

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @galactict3a @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

[onepiecepetalfanfics089]

Yandere Sanji vs Yandere Zoro with a naive reader who has every flirt just go over their head. Including by drunks at a bar- and maybe those two have enough and decide sharing is the best way to get fast results?

Ours To Take~..

Humming softly, you stared at the words in your book with a smile while occasionally admiring the beautiful sky. Nothing really concerned you that much and everything was fine! Well you mean..zoro and sanji were acting rather strange lately to you but the thought of them having any interest in you completely flew over your head.

Why would they? Sanji flirts with literally anything that has boobs, and Zoro is well..Zoro!

A rather loud and ‘romantic voice’ snapped you out of your thoughts and your reading as you blinked.

“Y/N-SWAAAANN!!!~ i have another drink for you my dear!”

You chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the man who was running towards you with heart shaped pupils and a tray with your favorite drink..again.

“Uh sanji?..i haven’t even finished the one you gave me just thirty minutes ago!” You laughed softly. Referring to the drink on the railing he’d made you so you wouldn’t ‘die of thirst’ and because his beloved Y/N needed to be pampered.

Sanji then grinned, dramatically getting down one knee like he was bowing to you. “Oh but my lovely Y/N..you’ll need backups! And…” he then stood up and got rather close to you with a smile, the smell of smoke filled your nostrils from his cigarette and you fought back the urge to scrunch your nose from the contact of the smoke. He smiled and kissed your hand.

Huh..weird..but then again he did that with every girl! Right..?

You stared into his sea blue eyes awkwardly and then gave a friendly smile. “Oh..well thanks I guess Sanji!” You Saïd while you turning back to your book. Sanji felt a pang in his heart as he sighed.

He plastered on a smiled and slowly walked away..almost like he was sad or disappointed. You glanced up at him curiously from your book but brushed it off while he sulked in the kitchen without you knowing of course.

A few minutes passed by and the nice breeze passed, slowly flowing through your hair. The pages of your book started to scatter and you scoffed, quickly book marking it and stretching.

The faint sound of footsteps caught your attention.

“Hm…must be Nami or Luffy..”

You thought as you sipped the first drink Sanji had given you.

Suddenly then, your book was about to fall off the railing and into the deep sea. Panicked, your eyes widened as you you reached out for it but then saw a rather large and masculine hand catch the book with little ease. You then felt a strong hand on your hip from behind.

The sudden warm sensation on your skin caused you to turn around to the person who just saved your book.

Storm grey eyes looked back at you and silence fell upon the both of you.

“..Hey..be careful next time.”

A deep monotone voice said to you almost quietly. Looking up you saw no one other than the green haired swordsman himself, Zoro.

Giving a soft yet platonic smile and gently took the book out of his hand.

“Hah, thanks Zoro! That book Robin gave me was almost gone!” You Saïd as you sat the book down on your side table you got for yourself to set your drinks on.

He stared into your eyes for a moment and made a grunting sound. “Yea..maybe try to set it on the table next time?..”

“Yea i don’t know why I didn’t do that in the first place..”

You Saïd with a blink, trying to make it seem like you were actually pondering instead of slowly trying to scoot away from zoro because he was in your space bubble for whatever reason..

Suddenly his grip seemed to tighten on you, causing you to glance down at his hand and then up at him. He slowly loosened his grip and rubbed circles with his thumb on it, trying to be as gentle as he could.

Your eyebrows couldn’t help but raise in confusion.

“Uh hey zoro why is your-”

“Did Nami tell you when we’re docking on the next island?..”

Narrowing your eyes you just gave up and leaned your back on the railing as he stood in front of you, one hand on the railing and the other on your hip.

“Hmm…she said in about an hour..”

He stared at you intently for a moment.

“Well are you heading anywhere when we dock?..”

“..no, I think shopping can wait until tomorrow”

You then grin as you get an idea. What if you invited a few of your friends to lighten the mood with Zoro and Sanji? It was perfect!

Nothing could happen to ruin the night!…

Right?

You then look up at Zoro with an encouraging smile as you got off the railing.

“Oh! I have an idea..what if we went to the bar together once we dock on the island? I know you would love a drink..” you said playfully hitting zoros shoulder in which he responded with a scoff and a smug smile you always saw him with.

“I’ll even invite Sanji and the others too!”

His smile then immediately disappeared and the glimmer you saw in his eyes faded. He grumbled a reply and pulled away from you rather quickly. Almost seeming to storm off like he was annoyed or angry at something…maybe specifically even someone?..

huh that’s weird..!

You just shrugged his obvious annoyance off and sipped your drink while hot summer sun made your skin warm up and glow.

.

.

.

.

You stretched as you felt the ship dock on a new island, a grin spread across your face as you finally stepped foot on land for the first time in weeks.

It was a little after sunset by now and you went over to get Sanji and Zoro to get some drinks, the others respectfully had other things to do or had shops to attend so it was just you three.

On the way to the local bar you saw a few miles ahead, Sanji kept blabbering on about some romantic things and complimenting you non stop for sone reason.

You respectfully said a thank you and went on to another topic in the conversation, causing the both of them to frown or narrow their eyes at you.

Sitting down in one of the seats at the bar you smiled at the bar tender and ordered some drinks, after you started some small talk with zoro who kept staring at you intently or seeming to move closer. You just would raise an eyebrow and ignore it.

A hand on your thigh stopped you from finishing your sentence as you slowly turned over your shoulder to see a man who was obviously drunk, he slowly crept his hand up to your inner thigh and you just stared, asking the man what he was doing.

“Oh nothing sweet-cakes..you just have such a fucking good body..couldn’t help myself.” He slurred, his hands slowly sliding under your shirt. Your eyes widened and you were about to do something when a hand grabbed the guys arms rather roughly.

So rough that it was turning red, causing the man to hiss in pain. He turned toward the one who had grabbed his so aggressively and growled.

“What’s the big idea asshole?” He spat while glaring at the swordsman with good instincts.

Before anything else could even happen, the man suddenly had a foot on his back. Sanji said nothing as the drunk man stumbled and groaned from the kick.

“Come with us.”

The sound of Zoro sheathing his bloody swords rang through Sanji’s ears while the smell of smoke filled the swordsman’s nostrils.

Sanji’s eyes were covered by a shadow while he sighed, almost clutching his cigarette.

The corpse before the two pirates was cut up and brutally kicked.

“This is never going to work..” Zoro heard the cook mutter while he threw the corpse in a near by dumpster.

“….”

The two men eyes then both locked, giving each other a knowing look. They both absolutely loathed the idea but..

“We should work together marimo..”

“…and why in hell would we do that cook?”

“Use your brain moss head…it’s clearly obvious that neither of us are making any progress with them..so maybe the results might go faster if we try to win them over together..”

He thought about the idea for a split second..

“Fine. Just don’t screw it up..got it curly brows?”

“Yea whatever mosshead just try not to intimidate my beloved Y/N to much..”

“What’s taking them so long out there?..” you mumbled to yourself as you sipped your drink. Surely a talk with that man couldn’t have taken that long right? It was getting late and the bar was even about to close.

The sound of the back ally doors opening and shutting back suddenly caught your attention as you you jump a little from the sudden noise while slowly turning around to indeed see the swordsman and cook of the crew.

Smiling while turning around in your chair you greeted them.

“Hey guys..what took so long?..the bars about to close-”

Without another word you felt arms wrap around you and the smell of Sanjis cologne seeming to fill the air.

Strong hands slowly slid on your shoulders and squeezed them gently before wrapping around your collarbone and rubbing the area gently. The feeling of calloused fingers massaging your skin and of a chin resting on top of your head made your skin tingle and shiver..just what were they trying to do..?

Slowly moving your body to get out out of their embrace, you had enough of their touch for a day but the two pairs of arms only tightened around you immediately.

“Guys? What are You doing??…whats going on with you guys today..?”

You said with a sigh while trying to gently push away from them away again.

This only caused zoro to scoff and turn your head close enough to his so he could kiss you passionately, his tongue licking your bottom lip slowly while his hands slid down to your waist and giving a light squeeze.

“Your such an idiot sometimes.”

He said bluntly with a hint of annoyance.

You then felt something wet on your shirt and looked down..was that blood..?

Now taking a look at the both of them you saw that their clothes had a decent amount if blood on them. Eyes widening, your breath hitched.

“Um..guys what’s that on your clothes?..”

They both stayed silent and sanji just gave a loving smile, lifting your chin up as he gave you another passionate kiss.

Starting to feel a lot of things..like unheard..uncomfortable and most of all..unsafe…? you tried to push away from but only got neck kisses from zoro while he gripped you tighter.

Sanji leaned his lips close to your lips to whisper against them, his voice soothing yet so..off putting..

“Shh Y/N my dear…you wouldn’t understand so we made our feelings clear…you’re ours to take now after all~…”

Hope you guys like this!! It was honestly so fun to right and I loved it! Hope you did too 🌸❤️ thank you to the person who requested it! I honestly love writing zoro and sanji or the straw hats in general because I’m in love with their characters lol-

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.2

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: After overhearing Wade and Weasel discuss his unresolved feelings for Vanessa, Y/n panicked and fled the bar. Realizing how much his words had hurt her, Wade chased after her. Tragically, just as he was about to reach her, Y/n was struck by a truck, leaving Wade devastated as he watched her die.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons, characters death

Word count: 4168

Wade's entire world had shattered in an instant. He was kneeling on the cold, unforgiving pavement, cradling Y/n's lifeless body in his arms, as if he could will her back to life with sheer desperation alone.

The chaos of the world around him: the blaring sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the distant murmur of concerned voices- was nothing but a blur. All that mattered was the lifeless weight in his arms, the chill that had already settled into her skin, and the way her once bright eyes were now dull and vacant.

"Please... please, don't do this to me," Wade whispered, his voice breaking as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo, clinging to the last remnants of her presence. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry...".

But his words were met with only silence. Her chest did not rise or fall. There was no reassuring heartbeat, no sign of the warmth that had once filled her eyes with life and laughter. Wade's hands trembled as he smoothed her hair back, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing deep down that this was the last time he would ever see her like this.

The blood that stained the street was still warm, mixed with the tears that dripped from his chin. It clung to his hands, a harsh reminder of his failure. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last as he choked on the guilt that consumed him.

"It's my fault," he whispered to her, his voice trembling with the weight of his own self-hatred. "I should have been honest with you... I could have stopped you... Why couldn't I even open my fucking mouth like I always do?".

But there was no answer, only the cold, indifferent night stretching out before him.

He barely registered the approaching footsteps, the shadowed figures of the paramedics moving closer, their expressions grave as they realized there was nothing they could do. They exchanged worried glances, whispering among themselves as they tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

One of them, a woman with a kind face, knelt down beside Wade, her voice soft, careful. "Sir... I'm so sorry, but we need to—"

"Don't fucking touch her!" Wade's voice was a raw snarl as he recoiled from her, his arms tightening around Y/n as if he could somehow shield her from the reality of what had happened.

He looked up at the paramedic, his eyes wild with a mix of grief and rage, daring her to come closer. "She's not gone. She's not gone!"

The woman hesitated, her hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure whether to comfort him or back away. She could see the pain engrave into every line of his face, the desperation in his voice that tore at her heartstrings. But she knew that they couldn't leave the scene like this. They needed to take Y/b's body, to give her some semblance of peace, even if Wade was not ready to accept it.

"Wade... Man..." A familiar voice cut through the haze of grief, and Wade turned his head to see Weasel standing a few feet away, his face pale and stricken with horror. He looked like he didn't know what to say, his usual sarcasm and wit buried under the crushing weight of the moment. "You've got to let them... Let them take her. You can't... She's gone, Wade. She's really gone."

Wade shook his head violently, the words not even registering as he tightened his grip on Y/n's body, as if the utter force of his denial could somehow change the reality of the situation. "No, she's not. She's just hurt... She's going to wake up... She has to wake up."

Weasel's heart broke at the sight of his friend, the man who had always seemed invincible, reduced to this: a broken, shattered mess of grief and guilt.

He took a tentative step closer, his voice trembling with emotion as he tried to reach Wade. "Wade... please, man... this isn't your fault. You've got to let go... you've got to let her go."

But Wade was not listening. He could not hear anything over the overwhelming guilt that consumed him like a fire. This was his fault. If he had been there, if he had been faster, if he had just done something differently, she wouldn't be lying here, lifeless in his arms.

He barely noticed when Dopinder arrived, the taxi driver's normally cheerful manner completely shattered by the sight before him. He stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene—the blood, the crumpled form of Y/n, and Wade's unhinged state.

"Weasel... I'm done cleaning the toilets-" Dopinder's voice was a broken attempt at normalcy, his mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing. But as soon as he fully registered the scene before him, his stomach twisted violently, and he turned away, vomiting uncontrollably onto Weasle's Hawaii shirt. The acidic smell of bile mixed with the metallic tang of blood in the air, creating a nauseating cocktail that clung to the back of everyone's throats.

Weasel barely reacted to the vomit now dripping down his shirt, his focus entirely on Wade. "Damn it, Dopinder," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real anger in his voice- just a deep, extremely tired sadness. He shot Dopinder a look that said it all: *Stay back. Let me handle this.*

The paramedics tried to move closer again, but Wade's grip on Y/n only tightened, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold on. "Get away!" he screamed, his voice breaking, raw with the agony that tore through him.

He reached out blindly, grabbing a jagged piece of metal that had broken off from the truck during the accident. He swung it at the paramedics, his eyes wild, daring them to come any closer. "You're not taking her from me! You hear me?! She's not fucking gone!"

Weasel's heart ached as he watched his friend unravel, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to pull Wade out of the mess that was consuming him. But he could not let this continue. He could not let Wade destroy himself any further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady, even as his own grief threatened to spill over.

"Wade, listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You need to let them help. Y/n... she's not in pain anymore. She's... she's at peace. But you... you've got to let them do their job, man. You've got to let her go."

But Wade was not hearing any of it. He was lost in his own mind, the words barely registering as his vision began to blur, the edges of the world around him starting to go dark. His grip on the metal weakened, his hands shaking uncontrollably as his body finally began to give out under the overwhelming weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry..." Wade's voice was barely more than a whisper as he slumped forward, the piece of metal slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His vision darkened completely, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

Wade woke up gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and his entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the curtains, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories of what had happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Y/n. The accident. Her lifeless body in his arms.

The pain hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him as he struggled to sit up, only to find himself sinking back into the cushions of the couch. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cocaine clung to the air, and it didn't take him long to realize where he was.

Althea's apartment. Of course. The last refuge of the damned.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. How had he ended up here? What had happened after he had blacked out?

Before he could piece it all together, Althea emerged from the shadows, a cigarette hanging from her lips, her expression as unreadable as ever. She looked at him with a mixture of pity and despair, as if she had seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times before.

"You're awake," she said, her voice flat, detached, as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke in a slow, steady stream, watching him through her sunglasses that seemed to see right through him. "About fucking time."

Wade tried to sit up again, his muscles protesting with every movement, but he forced himself to push through the pain. "What the hell happened?" he croaked, his voice rough and rough from disuse. "How did I... how did I get here?"

Althea sighed, rolling her eyes as she stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray beside her. "You passed out, Wade," she said, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. "Weasel and Dopinder brought you here. They were in a panic, going on about some accident... and, well, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Wade's stomach churned as the memory of the night came rushing back, hitting him like a punch to the gut. Y/n's lifeless body, the blood, the overwhelming sense of helplessness...

He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, his hands balling into fists as he tried to keep himself grounded in the present.

"Where is she?" His voice came out as a strained whisper, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. "Y/n... where did they take her?"

Althea hesitated, her usual stoic behaviour cracking just enough for Wade to see the unease flickering behind her eyes. She looked away, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket as if the act could somehow delay her answer.

"They took her to the morgue, Wade," she finally said, her tone softening, almost as if she was trying to ease him into the truth. "She... she was officially declared dead at the scene."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Wade felt like the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn't breathe, could not think- his mind was a carousel of images, memories of Y/n flashing before his eyes, all of them met with the sickening realization that she was gone. She was really gone.

"No..." Wade whispered, his voice breaking as the reality of it all came crashing down. "No, this can't be happening. This can't be fucking happening."

Althea did not say anything. There was nothing she could say. She knew better than to offer empty lies, to pretend like there was anything that could make this better. Instead, she just watched as Wade's world crumbled around him, the pain radiating off him in waves so intense it was almost touchable.

Wade's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest tightening as a sense of overwhelming panic began to set in. Memories of Y/n flooded his mind: her laugh, the way she used to look at him with that mixture of love and exasperation, the way she made him feel like he was worth something, like he was more than just the sum of his scars and mistakes.

He felt like he was drowning, the air sucked out of his lungs as the world around him started to spin. His vision blurred, the edges of the room closing in as he clutched at his chest, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

"Wade," Althea said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog of his panic. "Breathe. You need to fucking breathe."

But Wade could not. The memories were too much, the pain too overwhelming. He doubled over, clutching at his head as if he could somehow stop the many images that were tearing him apart from the inside out.

"I can't... I can't do this," Wade gasped, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. "I can't... I can't live without her."

Althea's expression softened, a flicker of something almost resembling compassion crossing her features. She moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady him, but Wade flinched away, his mind too consumed by his own torment to accept any form of comfort.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the ragged rhythm of Wade's breathing as he fought to keep himself from going insane any further. But then, cutting through the stillness like a knife, a sound broke through the chaos- a shrill, insistent ringing that filled the room, that had surrounded them.

Wade's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as he registered the sound. It was a phone, the shrilling ringtone of the Star Wars OST echoing through the small apartment, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts and forcing him back into the present. He fumbled for the device, his hands still shaking as he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

The number was unfamiliar, but there was something about the timing, the wrongness of it all, that made his blood run cold. His instincts were screaming at him, telling him that whatever this call was, it was not going to bring good news.

He hesitated for a split second, his thumb hovering over the answer button, but then he forced himself to press it, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice was strained, barely more than a rasp as he forced the word out.

There was a pause on the other end, a crackling that made his heart pound even harder. And then, a voice- a voice that was clipped, professional, but with an edge of something that Wade could not quite place. "Mr. Wilson? This is Officer McCready from the city morgue."

Wade's blood ran cold, his heart dropping into his stomach as he heard the words. The morgue.

Y/n.

The sickening realization of what this call was about hit him like a freight train, but he forced himself to stay on the line, to hear what the officer had to say.

"There's... been an incident," the officer continued, his tone growing more uncertain as if he was not sure how to proceed. "Y/n... her body... it's missing."

Wade's mind went blank, the words not registering at first, as if they were too surreal, too impossible to comprehend. "What... what the fuck are you talking about?" he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper as the world tilted on its axis.

"We... we don't know how it happened," the officer stammered, clearly just as unsettled by the situation as Wade was. "The security footage... it's missing, and there were no signs of a break-in, but... her body's gone. It's not here. We've searched everywhere, but... it's just gone."

Wade's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the information. Gone? How could she be gone? He had seen her- he had held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. She was dead. He had seen the blood, felt the absence of her heartbeat.

And yet...

A little of hope, irrational and impossible, started to take root in his mind, fighting against the overwhelming grief that had consumed him. What if she wasn't really gone? What if... what if this was all some mistake? What if...?

But the logical part of his brain, the part that had been forged in pain and loss, pushed back against the hope, crushing it before it could take hold. No. This was not a miracle. This was something else, something dark, twisted.

Someone had taken her. Someone had stolen her body, desecrating the last remnant of her existence. The thought made his stomach turn, his hands clenching into fists as a surge of anger and despair crashed over him.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Wade growled into the phone, his voice low and dangerous, barely restrained. "How the hell does a body just go missing? What kind of sick joke is this?"

The officer's voice wavered, clearly unnerved by Wade's barely contained fury. "I-I don't know, Mr. Wilson," he stammered. "We're investigating, but... we thought you should know. We're doing everything we can to find her..."

But Wade was not listening anymore. He dropped the phone, his mind reeling as the officer's words echoed in his head. Gone. Her body was gone.

The room started to spin, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the walls seemed to close in around him. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not again. Not to her. He felt like he was on the edge of some abyss, holding on a branch that could snap any moment.

Althea watched him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were dark with something that looked almost like pity. She had seen this kind of grief before, had witnessed the way it could tear a person apart from the inside out.

"Wade," she said softly, almost cautiously, as if she were approaching a wild animal. "You need to calm down. We'll figure this out. There's got to be an explanation."

But Wade wasn't hearing her. He was already on his feet, his movements uncoordinated as he stumbled toward the door. He had to find her. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. He could not lose her, not like this. Not when he had already failed her once.

"I have to go," Wade muttered, more to himself than to Althea, his voice hollow as he fumbled with the doorknob.

"I have to... I have to find her..."

But as he reached for the door, the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once, and his knees buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, his hands shaking uncontrollably as the panic attack he had been holding in finally overtook him.

Althea was at his side in an instant, her hands hovering uncertainly above him, unsure whether to comfort or restrain. Wade's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as the panic attack consumed him, pulling him under like a riptide.

His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the room spun around him. He clutched at the floor, his fingers scraping against the worn carpet as if trying to ground himself, but it was no use. The memories, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss, it all crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

"Wade, listen to me," Althea said firmly, her voice cutting through his panic. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, to focus on something other than the whirlwind in his mind. "You need to breathe, okay? In and out, slowly. Come on, you've done this before with gun smoke. You can do it again, just not with that type of smoke- Whatever, you know what I mean."

But Wade was barely hearing her. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control as the reality of what had happened- what was still happening, tore at him from the inside out. Y/n was gone, her body stolen, desecrated, and he had not been able to protect her. He had failed her, just like he had failed everyone he would ever cared about.

Althea shook him, hard, snapping him out of the worst of the spiral. "Wade, snap out of it!" she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. "You're no good to anyone like this. You need to pull yourself together."

Wade's breath hitched, and he forced himself to focus on her voice, clinging to it like a lifeline. He sucked in a ragged breath, then another, trying to steady the wild beating of his heart. The room slowly came back into focus, the edges of his vision clearing as the worst of the panic began to go away.

"That's it," Althea murmured, her tone softening as she saw him begin to calm down. "Just breathe. You're okay. You're going to be okay."

How could he be okay when the person who had meant everything to him was gone? How could he ever be okay again?

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still trembling as he slumped back against the wall, his strength completely drained.

"Why?" Wade's voice was a broken whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He did not know if he was asking her, the universe, or himself. "Why did this happen? Why didn't I say something in the bar?"

Althea did not have an answer. She knew better than to offer false comfort or empty words. Instead, she sat down beside him, her presence a silent reminder that he was not alone, even if it felt like he was.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside, the world continuing on as if nothing had changed, as if Wade's entire world had not just been ripped apart.

Althea nodded, her expression unreadable as she studied him. "I know," she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight of understanding. "But you can't do this alone. You're not in any shape to be running off half-cocked, looking for answers. You need help."

Wade wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that he didn't need anyone, that he could do this on his own. But the truth was, he was barely holding it together. He was a mess, his mind a mixed tangle of grief, guilt, and anger, and he knew that if he tried to do this alone, it would destroy him.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It felt like defeat, like admitting weakness, but he was too exhausted, too broken to care. "I don't even know where to start."

Althea considered him for a moment, then reached for her phone, flipping through her contacts. "We'll figure it out," she said firmly, her tone allowing no argument. "I'll make some calls. We'll get Weasel and Dopinder back here. They'll help. We'll all figure this out together."

Wade closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. It was not much, but it was something, a little of hope, a thread holding him together. He nodded slowly, too tired to protest, too worn down by grief and guilt to argue.

As Althea made her calls, Wade leaned his head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The pain was still there, a deep, ache in his chest that refused to let go.

He was going to find her. He was going to get her back, no matter what it took. And whoever was responsible for this, whoever had taken her from him- they were going to pay.

Wade did not know how he was going to do it, or what he would find when he did. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The phone in Althea's hand buzzed again, another call coming through, and she glanced at the screen before holding it out to Wade. "It's Weasel," she said, her voice steady. "He's on his way."

Wade took the phone, his grip tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. "We're going to find her," he said, more to himself than to Althea. "We're going to find her, and we're going to make this right."

Althea did not respond, but the look in her eyes said enough. She believed him, or at least she was willing to help him see this through, no matter how dark the road ahead might be.

As the minutes ticked by, Wade let the resolve settle into his bones, his mind slowly beginning to clear as he prepared himself for what was to come. He did not know where this path would lead, or if he would ever truly find peace. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He was not going to stop until he had answers. Until he had her back.

And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, so be it.

[yurozo]

uxoriousness/meritoriousness

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: following a recent outing to spain, leon indulges himself in the chaos of the theatre as a temporary reprieve. what he doesn't expect is to find you, a duke's daughter which captures his attention.

tags: fluff, romance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, early modern century britain, knight!leon (?), terrible flirting on leon's behalf.

a/n: it's 18th century britain leon babey! i attempted at making it as accurate as possible, but i did push flexibility in prose and conventions. i'm thinking of making this about five parts, so please let me know if you want to see more! <3 side note: uxuriousness is an 18th century term to be excessively fond of your wife, and maritiousness is a less common word to be excessively fond of your husband. ;)

part 1, part 2, next parts coming soon!

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Leon Kennedy, from the period of his last excursion to Spain, was admitted a frequent visitor to the theatre. Not particularly for the novelty of it; in truth he had no interest in watching the actors sing about their prose, but instead for the solitary comfort the booth often provided. To lounge in a padded chair and lose oneself to the idle chatter of the audience below bestowed a barrier that subsided his reserves, his tiring thoughts of blood staining his sword and the cracking of ribs as his weapon sinks between them. 

Certainly not for another more pervasive reason. Most definitely not the Lady sitting in the booth across the orchestra, watching the play with rapt interest. 

You had become a recent obsession of his, watching every slight change in expression that you wore so freely. Distaste at every nobleman vying for your affections, wistfulness at the chaste kiss between two actors, dejection when the curtains came to a full close. A painful curiosity ignited at your countenance and he could hardly withdraw his eyes from your person until the performance had concluded. Several weeks had passed in this kind of intercourse, content with being an unacknowledged admirer and not letting himself be overcome with more powerful considerations. 

That was until he spotted another man in your booth, desperately pleading with your hand in his rigid grip, and that same revulsion in your face, which propelled him upwards. He forbore any immediate inclination to withdraw his sword and allow him the same fate he willingly gave to his enemies for even daring to grab you without permission. 

His manners were very much admired in his circle, with many honoured with such an attention as his. It is for this reason that he is sure no true gentleman should ever dare force himself upon a woman, and especially not someone with a countenance more touchingly beautiful than he had ever dared to imagine before. 

In descending the last steps of your booth, however, your foot faltered and while Leon hastened to assist you, the man’s grip could no longer sufficiently engage to confine. While you were not materially hurt in your fall, it was reason enough to refuse any gracious acknowledgement from the other man. 

“My lord,” Leon derided, standing in the gap between the two. “I believe your presence is wanted elsewhere.”

The man remonstrated, and represented the serious danger that threatened from so rash a proceeding. “My lady,” said he in a solemn voice, “Sir.”

The man quickly departed, as the waning patience of Leon could clearly not have endured the repeated attack on another persons honour. But these cogitations were but of short continuance; they vanished with the appearance of your hand, waiting for his to assist you. He does so, pulling you gently to him, and greeted you with a softness oft unfamiliar to him. 

“My lady,” Leon said, folded in a deep bow; “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you may have been given uneasiness.”

He wanted so desperately to bring your hand upwards, to brush his lips against the soft unscarred skin of your knuckles. But he is noble in heart, and too afraid to break convention in a manner of all people, so he acquiesced himself to squeeze it once instead. The accomplished mind of his was more likely to succeed in silent attentions than by a formal declaration of his sentiment. 

“Any such sentiment was easily quelled,” you responded, the gentle remonstrances in his favour becoming more pleasing and more convincing. “Thank you, Sir, I felt nothing but surprise at your sudden appearance.”

“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you,” said he, hesitating ever so slightly in his forwardness. “My lady.”

A hint of flush coloured your mottled cheeks that retrimmed the flame building with an ardent fire. “Allow me to thank you, Sir,” you said, retracting your hand from his. “If you are not diverted, to join me.”

The present confliction of passion seemed endless; he had already formed an inkling of affection for someone so far out of his station to even consider a proper courtship, and yet the very idea of never feeling that warmth in his palm again ached fiercely. Perhaps it was simply due to the long stretches of time in which he received none at all, but the crime of engaging in a past attachment was severer and more painful than he had imagined. Your hand was gentle in a manner that he is not, uncalloused where his are weathered from a swords grip.

“I shall,” he replied, allowing for you to seat yourself first before he followed, a timid eagerness in his step. 

Leon seized the opportunity thus offered, attempting to converse with you, while he was yet considering what he could say, that might interest and withdraw you from this severe reserve. From the style of your dress, he imagined that you were a person of honourable, yet modest personality, who exhibited an air of comfort in the midst of his usual experience of strict upper-class nobility. 

It was something about you, he decided, that circumstance had punished him gravely with your presence. He could not remember a true life without it, for all manner of previous happiness seemed finite in comparison. In fine, you were both infinitely charmed with each other, although you lacked the nerve to voice such affections. 

“Are you engaged, my Lady?” he said, in a tone much too hurried for the quiet air of the booth. His brow pinched at the suddenness of the intrusion, at the lack of care in his tone that may have painted him impatient, or at worst, rapacious. 

“I fear not,” you laughed, and what a wondrous sound it is. Had you been able to encounter his eyes, you may have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight lightened them. Feeling all the more common awkwardness and anxiety of the situation, now forced yourself to speak. “Are your affections taken by another?”

“No, my Lady,” said he, “present company excluded.”

You coloured and laughed at his reply, and any guilt of his previous misstep is comforted by the brightness of your gaze, cast upon him of all people. Should the divine have asked him now to give all of him to you, he would have gladly obliged in that very moment, forfeiting all mortal possession and any semblance of self in your honour. 

“Are you enjoying the play thus far?” you started, still flushed of the affectionate gallantry that he bestows upon you.

“I do not recollect that I am.”

“You do not enjoy romance?” 

“I certainly have not the passion which some people possess,” said Leon, “but I am not steadfast in my conviction.”

You turned to him then, proceeding all the particulars of the romantic genre, and would shortly have recited some very plentiful dictation had Leon not interrupted you once more. 

“I have never met anyone of such true enjoyment,” he observed, cutting your speech not out of malice, but of something else entirely. Curiosity, or even sensibility, for he had received all your intelligence with the forbearance of civility. 

“Exceedingly so,” you answered, “but I honour your sentiment.”

“My sentiment has changed,” he admitted so fondly, that he feared every fault of his would come to light, “in the presence of such knowledgable company.”

When Leon looked upon you again, surreptitiously enough that you do not notice the length of which he watches you, you watch the two actors embrace each other with welled eyes. Even if Leon never considered himself a poet, surely he could manage a soliloquy that encapsulated the joy in basking at your presence much better than any writer. What fascinating sensibility that you wielded so easily, the same way he holds his weapon, freely and without uncertainty. 

The curtains drew shut only moments later, uproarious cheering filling the theatre chambers so any further conversation is halted in its vibrance. You clapped politely beside him, assuming an air of graceful satisfaction, and he clapped in turn, if only to momentarily revel in this moment. Never had he felt so beguiled by a story, attention so pulled by the audience as he did now, supposing that memorizing every detail would supply further dialogue to engage your consideration. 

While the audience continued their remarks on the performance, mixed with them many instructions of execution and taste, Leon stands from his seat. Despite the initial surety of his action, a hint of trepidation in his expression gave way to his inability to end a happiness so supreme as to efface all impressions of the past. 

“It has been a very agreeable day,” you said to Leon, allowing your hand to be lightly grasped in his. “Never has a play entranced me so. I hope we may often meet again.”

“As do I,” said he, and gave you a final bow, just so you could not see the torment in his expression. Would you let me permit you home, is what he did not say. 

“Goodbye, Sir-” 

“Leon, my Lady.”

“Goodbye, Sir Leon.” The traces of an unbidden smile once again rises, for now you had a means in which to contact him further, to call upon him the next time you waited his presence.

“I am your humble servant,” said he, trembling with anxiety and sinking with despondency, remained for a moment to gaze upon you, unable to take leave yet irresolute what to say that might prolong the moment occurring. 

They took leave of each other; you back to the obligations of the family which expects your maintenance, and he to the tavern to drown the remembrance of his disappointment.

[yunniverse]

Heartbeat

౨ৎ PAIRING— park seonghwa x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— angst, fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, vampire!seonghwa

౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, mentions of blood, vampire themes, halloween themes, fluff

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 3.0k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— it’s a relaxing halloween night with your boyfriend seonghwa, until a movie brings out his true nature.

౨ৎ A/N— tysm for reading!! feedback is appreciated!!

“Are you sure you’re okay staying in tonight? It’s Halloween,” Seonghwa asks, biting his lip worriedly while he looks at you.

You glance over at him, “If you want to stay in, I’ll stay in with you.”

“I don’t want to make you miss the fun just because of me,” he pouts as you walk over to him with the candy bowl and a blanket.

“I’ll have much more fun with you than I would at some lame, stuffy party,” you respond with a wave of your hand.

“But—” Seonghwa tries to argue, but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it, Hwa,” you smile, sitting down beside him. “We can watch movies and stuff.”

“Okay,” he replies, sighing, obviously still worried about messing up your night.

“Oh! There’s a new vampire movie,” you point out, scrolling through the movies on the TV.

Seonghwa freezes, swallowing, as he glances at you. Subconsciously, he runs his tongue across his teeth, making you furrow your eyebrows when you give him a sideways look.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Huh?” he looks at you as if he hadn’t heard you. “Oh, um, nothing.”

“Alright…” you trail off, clicking the movie, letting it start playing. Seonghwa shifts beside you, nervous.

But, he soon starts to calm down as you cuddle into his side, the movie starting. Maybe he can get through this.

After about thirty minutes of the movie, Seonghwa is struggling. The vampires on the TV, even though they make Seonghwa cringe, are also making him jealous. He can’t remember the last time he was able to drink blood from an actual human.

It was making him feel dizzy, being this close to you and watching a movie like this at the same time. Just when he starts to think he’s going to have to excuse himself to take a breather, you pause the movie, stretching. “I’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you inform him before you press a quick kiss to the side of his head, standing to go to the bathroom.

When you exit the room, Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief, his vision clearing slightly, the dizziness fading slowly. He feels his fangs slowly retract back into his gums, and he hopes his eyes are still brown instead of red.

“Do you want me to get you something from the kitchen?” you ask when you reenter the room, looking over at the couch.

“No, I’m good, love,” Seonghwa responds, his voice a little raspy, making you tilt your head at him, concerned.

“Are you sick, baby?” you ask, walking over to him, carrying your glass of water.

“No, I’m just tired,” he responds, offering you a reassuring smile.

“Wanna finish the movie, or are you sick of it?” you ask, laughing slightly. “It’s pretty scary.”

“I’m not scared. We can finish it if you want to, unless it’s scaring you,” Seonghwa tells you, against his better judgment, but he’s already ruining your night by forcing you to stay in on Halloween.

“We can finish it,” you shrug, snuggling back into Seonghwa, noticing when he tenses slightly, but decide to let it slide.

Ding dong.

“First kid of the night, I suppose,” you laugh slightly, getting up from the couch to go and open the door, leaving Seonghwa sitting.

“Trick or treat!” the little boy exclaims, dressed as a vampire.

You smile at him, “Vampires are popular this year, huh?”

He nods, grinning, “Yeah! All the cool people are dressed as vampires!”

“Nice!” you exclaim, dropping some candy into his bucket, before bidding him a good night, watching as he runs back to his mom, who smiles at you in thanks for the candy.

As you close the door, you turn back around to face Seonghwa, seeing him facedown on the couch, making you shake your head, laughing slightly.

“What’s wrong, Hwa?” you ask, slightly confused when he doesn’t immediately respond.

Walking over to him, you shake him gently, watching as he rolls over a little, peeking up at you, but barely letting you see his face.

“Seonghwa?” you ask, laughing as you gently shove him, knowing he’s joking with you.

“I think maybe I should go home,” Seonghwa mumbles into the pillow, making you frown, really confused now.

“What?” you ask, blinking and pouting. “Why? You just got here.”

“I just really think, um, I need to go,” he mutters, his voice sounding an octave deeper than normal, but it’s probably just because he’s talking into the pillow.

“Come on,” you pout again. “It can’t be that bad! You were okay a few minutes ago.”

“I just started—” he pauses, sucking in a breath. “Uh, feeling sick.”

“Do you need something? I could—”

“No! No, I just… I’ll go,” Seonghwa stands hastily, shakily, moving around the couch, still not letting you see his face.

“Park Seonghwa!” you snap, gripping his wrist. He freezes, unmoving, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“What?” you ask quietly.

Seonghwa slowly turns around, the eyes that meet yours not your boyfriend’s usual eyes. These are crimson red and glaring. You’re taken aback for a moment, but you don’t release his wrist yet, because now you’re frozen, staring into his eyes.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Seonghwa takes a single step closer to you, his voice deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine.

“S-Seonghwa?” you question, before you realize. It’s Halloween. With a laugh, your face softens away from the fear. “Haha, good one.”

“Hm?” he hums, tilting his head slightly, watching with predatory eyes as you bite your bottom lip absentmindedly.

“It’s Halloween,” you laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” he responds, his hand shifting to grasp your wrist in a semi-tight grip where you had been holding his before.

“You’re being scary on purpose,” you nod at him, gaze flickering across his face. “You are… aren’t you?”

“You’re scared?” Seonghwa asks, crimson eyes snapping up to meet yours, making genuine fear catch in your chest.

“I—” you trail off, starting to grow more anxious at the frightening gleam in his eyes.

“Darling?” Seonghwa starts, phrasing it as a question as he slowly begins lifting your wrist to his face.

“Y-yeah?” you ask, swallowing.

“Would you mind if I…” his gaze falls to your wrist, brushing his velvety lips against your skin, right above your pulse. “Have a taste?”

“Seonghwa,” you furrow your eyebrows with a small eye roll. “This isn’t funny! I know you heard what I said to that kid.”

“Mhm,” Seonghwa hums absentmindedly, his attention still on your wrist.

“Hwa, baby,” you whimper, feeling yourself grow a little shaky in his grip.

Seonghwa’s eyes snap back up to yours, softening slightly at the pet name before he gently tugs you closer. You stick your ground, though, too scared to follow him, though you usually would with no hesitation.

This proves to be a bad idea, however, because Seonghwa releases a low growl, yanking you into him. You crash into him with a surprised yelp, but he catches you easily.

“It’s best not to resist, darling,” Seonghwa coos, his hand lifting to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“I didn’t agree to this role play thing or whatever the heck you’re doing,” you snap, trying to yank your arm away, but his grip is frighteningly strong and he doesn’t budge at all. Instead, he holds you tighter.

“Role play?” he questions, chuckling lowly with a smirk before his smile fades, replaced with a fierce gaze that has you cowering in fear.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to consent to something like that before you just freak me out like this by acting like a vampire!” you exclaim, growing more and more freaked out.

“Acting?” Seonghwa purrs, his free hand lifting to brush the tips of his fingers against the base of your throat. “I’m not acting.”

“Yes, you are,” you laugh it off, your hand coming up to grab his, trying to lower it away from your neck. “You have to be, Hwa. Vampires aren’t real.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been slowly trying to back away from him until your back hits the wall, making you try to slide sideways so you won’t be cornered, but Seonghwa beats you to it, pushing you further into the wall and caging you in.

“You won’t mind, will you?” he whispers, his lips moving close to the side of your head, brushing against the shell of your ear. “I’ll make it as painless as I can.”

“No,” you push against his chest, frantic. “You’ve taken this too far, Hwa. Please just stop.”

“Stop? But I haven’t started,” Seonghwa backs his head away slightly, his unnaturally crimson eyes searching your face, and you breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Well, maybe another day you can have your fun, but today I don’t feel like it. I just wanna cuddle you, Hwa. Like we were doing earlier,” you pout, your hands sliding up his chest cautiously, wondering if he would stop the act now.

He wordlessly let's his eyelids flutter shut at your touch, and you’re certain you’ve won him over. But when you try to move, he doesn’t let you and you whimper, growing tired.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you beg, squeezing his biceps beneath your fingers, trying to ground him back to reality.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re rich and soft and brown.

“Hwa?” you question again, warily.

He breathes in deeply with a small, broken groan. “I’m so sorry,” he’s breathless, and you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“Why? You were just playing, right?”

“No, I-I wasn’t,” his chin wobbles slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between his. “I couldn’t tell you when I met you, and I knew you’d leave me if I ever told you, so I just didn’t. I’m so sorry I scared you, and I understand if you want me to leave forever. In fact, I probably should, I—”

Shaking your head, you watch as he starts to move away, and, even though you try to interrupt him, nothing works. Slightly desperate, you quickly lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

He freezes momentarily before he melts into the kiss with a sigh through his nose, gently pushing you back against the wall, his hands coming up to cup your face.

You pull away slightly when you feel several pricks against your bottom lip. “Sorry,” he mumbles against you, but doesn’t try to pull away as you shake your head, only slightly worried, the worry overshadowed by Seonghwa’s intoxicating kisses.

“Hwa, baby,” you mumble between kisses. “Maybe we should calm down.”

“Y-yeah,” his voice is husky and wobbly as he pulls away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours, his skin slightly sweaty against yours. “It’s hard to… control myself sometimes.”

“Because you need to… eat?”

He blinks at you, flashes of crimson hear and there before he sighs, nodding defeatedly, “It’s been a while.”

“How long is a while?” you ask, genuinely interested, though you should honestly be running for the hills right now.

“Couple months, I guess,” he frowns. “The less I keep up with it the better.”

“Do you need me to help you?” you ask, and his gaze snaps back to yours with a frightened expression.

“Don’t ask me that,” he responds, slightly shaky.

“Why not?” you ask, confused. “I wanna help.”

“No, you don’t,” Seonghwa frowns, sucking in a sharp breath. “I could kill you.”

“But you want me to help you, don’t you?” you ask, your hands gently squeezing his muscular biceps beneath your fingers.

“I—” Seonghwa hesitates, looking down, before he shakes his head, almost frantically. “No! I don’t, please, I—”

“What?” you push, wondering why he’s being so stubborn. “You what?”

“Don’t tempt me!” he snaps suddenly, taking you aback. “I can barely control myself as it is! If you let me feed off of you, I won’t be able to stop and I could kill you! I can’t do that, y/n. Not ever.”

“Hwa,” you coax him to look at you again. “I’m not afraid of you, not now that I know the truth.”

“You were pretty scared earlier.”

“Because I was confused!” you explain, laughing slightly. “I love you, Seonghwa. You won’t hurt me.”

“I will,” he responds, gaze fierce and stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you lift your wrist back up to his face, watching as his eyes lock on your skin, a hungry look growing in his brown eyes.

“I’ll be okay, Seonghwa,” you tell him again, trying to sound convincing. “I trust you.”

“I don’t trust myself,” he mumbles in response, but contradicts himself by gripping your wrist ever so gently, lifting your hand to brush his lips across your pulse point, so delicately you almost can’t feel it for a moment.

When his gaze finds yours again, his eyes are once again red, but this time they’re much darker. Blood red.

“Will it hurt?” you ask suddenly, and his eyebrows furrow.

“You just said you trust me,” he replies, voice once again deeper than usual.

“I know, but will it be like… actually painful?” you ask, swallowing.

“My bite has what you could call soothing properties once I’m actually drinking the blood,” Seonghwa explains softly, his cold fingers brushing the hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck to his view. “It’ll pinch at first, like getting four shots all at once, but it’ll subside. Are you sure you want me to do it?”

“You need it, Hwa,” your voice is a little more shaky than you expected but you hope he believes you. “You know when to stop, right?”

“I’m a royal vampire,” he chuckles slightly. “I’m the only kind that knows when to stop.”

“Royal?” your eyes widen, even more confused.

“It just means I’m superior,” Seonghwa teases, making you smile up at him a little, still trying to get used to the red eyes.

“Will you take care of me?” you ask quietly, your hands shaking a little when Seonghwa gently takes them into his.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he replies softly. “I’ll try to make it painless.”

“You said that earlier too,” you point out, giggling slightly.

“I wasn’t in my right mind then,” he responds, running a hand through his hair. “I am now, and I’ll try to stay there. Would you like to move to the couch?”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding nervously.

Once you get over to the couch again, Seonghwa gestures for you to sit down on his lap, making you furrow your eyebrows, slightly confused. “How will this work?”

“I’ll have better access this way,” he responds. “I know it isn’t like the pictures or stories you’ve seen and read, but I do it a little differently if I’m trying to make it feel good.”

“It’ll feel good?” you’re really confused now, but Seonghwa just laughs, his eyes sparkling slightly.

“I told you it has soothing properties to a degree,” he explains. “Some people even get addicted to it.”

“Oh?” you question, your nerves soothed slightly.

“But I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Seonghwa tells you, pulling you a little closer to him once you take a seat on his lap.

“Be careful,” you tell him one last last time, earning a soft smile from Seonghwa as he nods.

When he moves closer to you, his eyelids flutter closed as he breathes you in. “Mm, you smell so good, love,” he whispers, his nose nudging your jaw slightly.

You smile, letting your hands slide to brace against Seonghwa’s chest, preparing for the pain.

“Ready?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin, and all you can do is nod, bracing yourself.

It’s a sharp burst of pain in one spot as his fangs sink into your skin, making you try to flinch away, but Seonghwa lifts a hand, pressing it against the other side of your neck, pushing you further into him.

Soon, however, just like he’d promised, the pain subsides and you release a small sigh, melting into Seonghwa, who hums with pleasure against you, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

It's about five minutes later when Seonghwa pulls away, a pinch of pain coursing through you when his fangs pull out, but he quickly notices, replacing his sharp fangs with his soft lips, pressing a soothing kiss against your neck.

When he pulls away from your neck, he rests his forehead against your shoulder, sucking in a ragged breath.

“Better?” you question, hoping you sound more stable than you feel. The room is literally spinning, but you push through.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice deep and raspy. “So much better.”

“I’m glad,” you respond, moving to get off of Seonghwa’s lap, but your legs are so wobbly that you immediately fall back onto him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Whoa,” Seonghwa chuckles before a wicked smirk grows on his face. “Careful there. Are you falling for me again?”

“Hard not to,” you send him a wink, though you’re still blushing hard. He smiles at you before he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, making you cringe when he tastes like metallic.

“You need to brush your teeth,” you crinkle your nose.

“Thanks for the info,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I will later. First, can we cuddle some more? Maybe without the vampire movie?”

“Of course,” you smile, running a hand through his soft hair. “And just let me know if you ever need me again.”

“I always need you,” Seonghwa responds cheekily, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“You know what I mean,” you tell him, and he smiles.

“I will,” he nods, leaning back against the couch to let you snuggle into him. “Thank you… I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Hwa,” you respond, smiling against him from where your head is placed against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Suddenly, you realize, making you lift your head to look at him with wide eyes, meeting his confused gaze.

“Hwa… um, why do you have a heartbeat?”

[gentle-author]

"one step closer to heaven"

Tríkala Korinthias, Greece

Captured by @gentle-author 🤍

[theunknownpen]

[heavenlytouches]

Legolas Greenleaf- dirty whispers

⋆｡°✩

GN reader

<3 (NSFW) MDNI

TW- sexual themes!!!

You sat next to Legolas on Elvens' supper (it was a mistake)

Legolas Greenleaf

The golden hues of the setting sun poured through the grand arched windows of Thranduil’s castle, casting a warm glow over the elegantly decorated hall.

Flanked by towering pillars and adorned with shimmering fabrics, the atmosphere pulsed with the quiet laughter and gentle music of elven life.

As you entered the hall, you marveled at the beauty of the exquisite feast laid out before you. The scent of roasted meats and fragrant fruits wafted through the air, creating a tantalizing allure that was hard to resist.

Finding your place at the long, serpentine table, you felt a twinge of excitement and apprehension. You had been invited to this elven supper—a rare honor for a human—and the knowledge that you would be sharing a table with some of the most enchanting beings in Middle-earth only heightened your nervousness.

You glanced around. Elves laughed and talked, their voices like music, but you felt small and out of place amidst such beauty.

To your surprise, you found yourself sitting next to Legolas, Son of Thranduil.

After some time, their fruity wine started to hit. You turned to Legolas- he was watching you the whole night-

His white hair shimmered like spun sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. You had heard tales of his skill and bravery, but in this moment, he was simply beside you—tall, beautiful, and impossibly charming. Something about him was drawing you in, his pale skin, his long fingers splitting fruit in no time, sweet juice dripping down his thumb.

You hate to admit but your thoughts were wild. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way his eyes looked at you- so hungrily, but you started to imagine how his fingers would feel all over your body.

Suddenly he leaned to you, his strong masculine scent filling your senses.

“Ah, a human amongst the elves,”

He whispered lightly, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at you, his voice smooth and melodic.

“Does the magic of the night overwhelm you? I promise, we bite only in jest.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his words. You shifted in your seat, stealing a glance at the ornate platter full of sweet pastries.

“It’s beautiful here. I just think your wine is a bit strong.”

You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Legolas chuckled softly, leaning in a fraction closer, the fragrance of leaves and the earth lingering around him.

“I doubt that's wine, dear. Don't think I didn't notice how hungrily you look at me..”

He said, his tone both teasing and sincere.

“Surely you must know that by now.”

You felt the heat rise to your face as his slender fingers found a way to your soft thigh, gently stroking you. It was at once flattering and mortifying, and you wrapped your hands tightly around your cup of sweet elven wine, focusing on the intricate patterns carved into its surface.

“I-I don't think I understand-”

You stammered, your heart beating faster.

Legolas arched an eyebrow, his expression incredulous yet playful.

“Come on, don't do that to me. I see how you watch my hands.”

He leaned back slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes never wavering.

“I know what you're thinking dear. Tell me, I want to hear it. Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of my long fingers in your dripping hole, hm? Tell me, baby.”

The right words eluded you, and you looked down, the vibrant color of the goblet reflecting in your eyes.

“Legolas...I..”

You managed to mumble.

A melodic laugh escaped Legolas’s lips, filling the space between you with warmth.

“Shhhh let me give you something to think about.”

He said as he leaned closer, his sweet words and warm breath tickling your neck.

You dared to peek at him, and his expression was earnest yet mischievous.

"Imagine me, slowly dipping in your juices, moving my fingers gently, curling them in you. I bet you would be full, hm? Filled to the brim, darling. Would you want that?"

Your breath was caught in your throat, his hands still gently squeezing your thighs.

"I would use my tongue on you, lap and lick, tasting your sweetness. My, my, wouldn't stop until your legs are all shaky. I know how to pleasure, baby."

Your chest was heaving and you could feel pure desire pool in your stomach. It's impossible you're discussing this with Elven kings' son.

"Legolas please.."

You pleaded, your eyes finding his, full of lust.

"Shhh no need to plead, dear. Let me give it to you, hm? Let me show you how a real man loves..how a real man fucks."

His hand gently moved closer to your underwear. You could feel his warm thumb ghost over the hem of your panties, his blue eyes half lidded.

“And why not join me in some adventure? Why not come with me? You won't regret it baby, let me fill you so good.”

He suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Your heart raced at the thought of a personal adventure with him beneath the stars.

All you could manage was a small nod, catching his hand to lead you away. His body was radiating heat.

As the night wore on, you found yourself lost in the woods, stepping into your own light, following Legolas. You watched his broad back, moving behind his slender figure. You knew, when you find the spot this man won't leave your side. Your cheeks were as red as strawberries, arousal pooling between your legs.

As you walked deeper in the night, you knew you will never forget this supper.

Sorry this one was shitty y'all TwT I'm a bit behind because of my college but I will post on-date if I could.

Anyways, hope you liked it. Feel free to request anything! Requests are open <3

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[diorchids]

play date

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, no use of y/n, f!reader, making out, swearing, fingering, oral ( m&f receiving ), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, sub&dom!sejanus ( squint ), obsessed!sejanus, praise kink

a/n: this took too long ?? first fic on here so lmk ur thoughts

mature content ahead!

sejanus seems so innocent. his nerdy nature, eagerness to learn, the way he never hangs out after classes. “he stays to himself, a lot,” coriolanus mutters following you asking about sejanus’ personal life. his brown eyes gaze up at the unprovoked mention of his name.

standing from his desk, he waltzes over to you and coryo, “why wouldn’t i stay to myself? you expect me to trust them?” sejanus points to arachne and her groupies. you smile, making him grin after looking back at you and coryo.  

dean highbottom makes himself known, clearing his throat. you crane your neck to glance over to sejanus, but his eyes are already on you.

the brief eye contact made you immediately sit back in your designated seat while highbottom asks everyone to partner up for a project, coming up with ideas for the games to come.

trudging your way through the dense population of your peers, looking for clemensia. you’d assumed corio was working with sejanus.

“looks like you’re also in need of a partner,” the tall boy towers over you, his curls bouncing as he tilts his head downward. his eyes narrow on yours, expecting a sad rejection, he squeezes his hands together. 

“i guess i am, projects must not be for snow,” he’d left. long gone under the guise of a bathroom break. 

sejanus clears his throat, “be mine, then, please,” his throat is jammed with saliva, his tongue gliding around the tips of his teeth. but you oblige, biting the inside of your cheek. “my parents aren't home, just in case you wanted to start there,” he clarified, making sure you knew he was talking about school.

you chuckle at his tense demeanor. “does this house have an address?” sejanus laughs, he’s less on edge, all because of you. 

he gets home with the piece of paper with your number on it, brushing over it with his clammy hands. his palms instinctively rub against his clothed dick, making him whine at the pain that needed taking care of. you knew what you were doing.

making him so needy, having him practically beg for your attention. sweaty hands trail up to the phone to dial your number, he hesitates to dial the last digit. 

“hello?” your voice raises goosebumps on his skin. he's silent, a lump getting caught in his throat. “sejanus? from class? is the play date ready?”

you sit up on your bed, awaiting his answer. “yeah, s’ready,” his smile could be heard through the phone.

“i’ll be there in, like, 10.” before he could answer, you hung up. 

knocks on the door accompany the sounds of lucky flickerman speaking on tv. the door handle shakes after sejanus forgets to unlock it. “one second–! fuckin’ doorknob,” the door opening to his smile, eyebrows anxious and twitching. 

“we can head to my room if you want,” he makes it clear he only wants to do the project, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

following him upstairs, you notice how nice his house is, putting yours to complete shame. his room has posters, quotes, and pictures of his family. “let's just start now, with brainstorming.”

his eyes flick back and forth from your face and your bra rubbing against your shirt. you draw diagrams of threats that could be implemented into the games, the only driving force is the thought of being a mentor.

your back aches from sitting in the chair for too long, the desk lamp straining both of your eyes. you rose from the desk, making sejanus slightly frown, being farther away from you.

you fall straight back onto his bed, a slight moan escaping your lips. a quiet groan leaves him, his eyebrows furrowing while looking at your pillowy lips. 

he fidgets with his hands, trying so hard to not palm his cock while you’re right there, “l’me touch you — please,” he groans out, desperately. this was something guttural, something begging to leave his mouth.

his words fall slowly out it. they take you by surprise, his desperation for you, his whiny voice. his legs go into what feels like autopilot as he walks towards you, so hungry.

“i’ll be so good, so, so good,” his leg between yours, you sitting up, being met with his face. his warm breath against your cheeks makes your breath hitch.

fingers cradle your jaw as his thumb draws circles on your chin, “talk t’ me.” you nod as your eyes analyze his face, taking in every ounce of his words, “whatever you want, do whatever you want,” pulling your waist to his leg, rocking yourself against him.

your wet lips smashing into his, your mouth being searched every inch by his warm tongue. his hands travel all over you, gripping your thighs and your neck. (softly, of course.)

“knees, now, please,” his words leave a mark on your cheek. so soft and yet so demanding. but you comply while sej unbuckles his belt, licking his top lip. seeing you on your knees, so helpless, so nasty.

he pulls his cock out of his boxers, and it slaps his stomach, he’s so achingly hard and big. his pants are discarded onto the floor, you both know they won’t be needed.

sucking air in through his teeth when you prod at his red, leaking tip. head tilting to the side with desperate eyes, eyebrows furrowing when you kiss his tip, he pulls his shirt off. his dick is huge next to your face, you run your finger up a vein, making him shudder.

“mmmf — f- fuck,” he babbles while pulling your hair into his fist, bucking his hips into your warm mouth. “m’ sorry,” eyes roll to the back of his head, his lips swollen from being abused by his teeth.

his bed squeaks as he flops down on his bed to sit, still pulling your mouth onto his dick. cock twitching in your mouth as you squeeze his soft but toned thighs, earning a groan and tug on your hair. “you see what you’re doin’ t’ me? m’ like an animal for you,” eyebrows truly showing how he feels about you. your hands wrap around his cock while you jerk it and suck his swollen, abused tip.

“show me how much you love me, sejanus,” keeping eye contact no brick could break, his cock twitches while you take him all in your mouth one last time. his hand finds its way to your breasts, caressing and squeezing them. 

warm spurts of cum coating the back of your throat, his big hands grip your hair, bucking his hips into your mouth. groans and moans fill the room as you look up at him, with those eyes.

his cock twitching against your chin, his face flushed while brushing your hair to the side, “that was s– so good, s’ good,” wet lips quivering from your nails digging into thighs. “felt good?” you say, breathlessly, sejanus nodding immediately, face red and hairs starting to stick to his head.

he helps you to your feet before guiding you toward his bed. rough, big hands lay you down before trailing down to the end of the bed. he looks at you, examining your face attentively before gripping your ankles and dragging you to him.

“let's get this off, ‘kay?” he tugs the end of your shirt, you nodding while pulling the shirt over your head, your lace bra making sejanus groan at the sight of you, so, so beautiful.

he crawls to you, wrapping arms around your chest, undoing your bra, chests rubbing against each other. your bra falls as he watches in awe. sejanus rises and moves to the end of the bed, eyes lidded, once again hungry. tapping your ankle, silently telling you to open your legs, analyzing your wet cunt being soaked through your panties. 

“so wet, all for me?” you nod quickly. his thumb presses against your needy clit, making you shiver and instinctively close your legs on his head. “m’ sorry, keep goin’,” grabbing a pillow to cover your mouth, to muffle the moans to come.

“no, wanna hear you,” his arm flexes as he grabs the pillow and pushes your hips up to make space for it.

his fingers hook onto the hem of your panties, pulling them off of your legs, exposing your bare cunt. he ruts himself against his bed as he groans hot breaths right into your clit. fingers glide across your slit, moving up to your clit, earning moans from you and your puffy lips. his tongue licks a stripe onto your cunt before latching onto your swollen clit.

long fingers traveling up to your mouth, and without a word you start to suck and swirl his fingers around in your mouth before him abruptly slipping them out and into your cunt.

lips detach from your clit to speak, “ah, takin’ it so well, baby. talk t’ me, please,” you nod before he curls his fingers up, hitting that sensitive spongy spot. “words, please,” he begs, gripping your thigh with his free hand, squeezing fat.

“love it, love your fingers in me s’ much.” groans fill your pussy as he goes faster, sucking your puffy clit, fingers going in and out. the coil in your stomach tightens with every sloppy thrust.

rabid moans leave your throat as you buck your hips up into his face, him holding your hips down with his hand. the bed slightly moving back and forth from his hips rutting against the edge, “so wet. so fuckin’ sweet,” his muffled words praising your cunt. your hips stutter on his chin and he thrusts mercilessly, in and out.

the fire in the pit of your stomach igniting as you cum all over his face and bed, cum pooling at your ass. his tongue swirling over your clit makes your eyes roll back earning a back arch off of the pillow. “fuck, i’m cummin’, you feel so good in me, love you so much, baby,” you exclaim while writhing under his spell.

his hips hump pathetically against his bed until he hears your words, your praise. his cum coating his boxers in hot, white seed. 

“nngmf,” his head falls straight onto your clit. your hands finding his curls, soft moans filling the room. his seed dripping down his leg onto his carpet, leaving a stain, a memory.

“gonna cum in you now, let you have all of it,” crawling up the bed, smashing his cum washed lips onto yours. “can i fuck you, please?” you nod while he pulls his cock out of his wet boxers and lines it up with your entrance, “s’ take it all,” before smashing his hips in and out of your spoiled cunt. lips abusing your needier ones, he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, soaked in your juices.

his hips don’t stop from slamming your cervix in, ripping painful but pleasurable moans from deep down. his flexed arms hold your knees to your shoulders, taking complete control of your body. “you feel so fuckin’ amazin’. better than i ever imagined. so – so warm for my cock, so fuckin’ tight,” you moan while gripping his hair in response, nodding so eagerly, wanting and needing more of his dick.

drool falling from the corners of your mouth, so fucked out, so dumb for his cock, the cock thats bruising up your cervix.

“like you were made for me, fittin’ me all up in here, fuck, gonna empty my balls all up in y– agh,” his balls slap your slit as you both chase the high. the delicious high, the rewarding high.

your pussy squeezes his cock so beautifully, so perfectly. “g’ cum, f’ so good in me,” your whisper, egging him on. he grips your thighs so tightly, threatening to cum all up in you. “you wanna cum? go ahead,” his eyes on yours, “cum all on me, all over me, please, ” his hips thrust violently into you, animalistically.

your eyes dart to your pussy, taking all of him, swallowing his cock so well. him digging his nails into your plush thighs, thrusts becoming sloppy. he pushes down on your stomach to feel himself making you feel so good. your cunt starts to flutter, while the coils tighten again, threatening to snap. “grippin’ me so good, like a fuckin’ vice,” he’s panting into your ear.

“m’ cumming, sejanus, all f’ you,” you reach climax, cum piling at the base of his cock as your back arches, pleasure coursing through you as the juices fall onto the bed under you.

he doesn’t pull out of you, though, instead chasing his high. “you did so good, thank you, thank you s’ much,” he groans out to you, still bruising your cervix. you can’t even respond, being so fucked out from his thick cock stretching you out so good.

cock twitching, he speeds up while gripping your ass, slamming your walls into him. hips stuttering while his warm cum coats the entirety of your cunt, inside and out. he rides his high out, though he pulls out eventually. just to replace it with his thick, long finger. 

“love you, love y’ so much,” his bruised lips abusing yours.

he shuffles awkwardly to his bathroom to get you a warm towel, pulling the warm blanket over your bodies.

i see very few fics of him like he isnt so fine, but i must speak my truth!!!!

[iamnothingbutaconcept]

"It is true that we are all children of god; some of us are just born mangled and ruined."

[ladythornofrivia]

The Devil’s Tongue (pt. 3)

a/n: i’m alive! i have been busy for the past few months and have been struggling with my health, but i’m doing okay. i’m here. i never forget about you guys. here’s part 3 of the devil’s tongue. hope you enjoy. i kinda forgot how to use tumblr for a second, but it’s all coming back to me. 💚

warnings: smut, heavy implied smut, dirty talk, horny reader, nerdy michael stalking, profanity

Another set of roses.

This was the second week of full package right outside of your doorstep at the dorm, brick television blasted through the walls, and those who live nearby could hear it.

“Who the fuck delivered this shit?” you asked aloud, ludicrous.

You were hoping for new packages of big dildos. But who the hell delivered flowers at night while you’re deeply focused on finishing a boss battle on a Kingdom Hearts game?

Obviously somebody annoying, you assumed, but it comes with a certain consequences and package.

Since you garnered more attention from males audience, you have received more than $1000, each day before classes, and nights before going to sleep, less stressed, less fucked out.

Lets still sore, and your pussy getting pounded by a plastic dick helps to forget the idiotic moments from a guy who won’t stop pursuing your pussy.

Up until now, you still didn’t know who kept sending you flowers—gets larger and more obnoxious. Moreover, having alongside of candies in the packages. Each time it gets bigger.

Annoyance.

As soon as you looked into your messy room, you’re fucked. There’s no way, a college staff would allow childish presents and compliments. Although once you did give it away by pretending to send package to someone’s door, but magically ended up at your doorstep.

More annoyance.

Oh, it’s getting worse, although you haven’t seen the worst yet.

You hated roses, but you love the color and its fragrance, so preserving one would suffice and threw the rest into the trash—attraction of flies and other infested bugs. Though roses weren’t wasted if distribute to some lonesome women who yearn romance with their inner Shakespeare, or those who are fond of things that wither too soon for a perfect Edgar Allen Poe quote to go alongside it.

Either too romantic or too gothic would suffice—perfect in a sense they’re almost the same, but different font.

The first day you arrived in college—in England—it was stupendous. Away from folks, from cultish family and liars you once called “friends”. Crisp air and crisp sips of tea and munching scones and a full English breakfast and cup of excellent tea you’ve heard so much, from the vast side of the other world—with a profound lack of research, and a town stuck in their own ways.

When traveling, the possibilities are endless. And to unpack and trash all things annoying, family and even old friends.

Friends…

Pfft!

Friends are such a stupid thing of annoyance such as hope to cling hope. “Friends” can only lead to disappointment and betrayal, so why keep them, they’re just baggage needs to be dumped. And who needs friends when you have a large attraction of male audience and big time cash deposited into your fat bank account? And what better way to end interactions than focusing on how to finish junk food in less than 1 minute?

Money wins in the end.

Money prevailed and endured—an ongoing reward for self-pleasure.

Money buys happiness.

Always.

And food. But both were just as good as previous. Stacked on goods and snacks for a late night somber mood would do a trick.

Except it wasn’t.

Junk food has been forgotten when the flowers and a box package of your favorite candies and chocolate decided to show up on this very hour. There was no name, no phone number, no signature. Not even a compliment was showing.

“Who the fuck sent these during my gaming hour?” you asked yourself, guessing. Probably that no good piece of shit you hung out with last time. And with a small grunt, you picked it up and slammed—locking—the door, thinking about buying a sign of “no soliciting/tresspassing” from an online store.

“Ah. Better than nothing,” you added, appeased as you were closing the front door.

Thank god.

~~~

Numbing cheeks stretched to a giant yawn during a productive hour was the worst thing ever occured after the video game night. Couldn’t stop rethinking of last night’s gift from a secret admirer.

Trying to come up with conclusions on who sent numerous gifts by your door. Could it be the recent guy you dumped or was it an ex friend? An ex-friend wouldn’t do this. They’d automatically give you an intense cold-shoulder and fuck you stare on their eyes and spread false gossip about you behind your back.

Unless if it’s an ex-boyfriend you have back in America. But boys in America lack romantic aspects.

Unless if it’s a family member, or members, then they’re sick fucks in the head that needs to be douse in gasoline and set them alight on fire.

Hence why your mind was running. And it didn’t help. Hence why you came and moved into England. Starting fresh without bringing the mentions past scars would be the best course of action.

Nothing is simple, nothing is easy, but traveling far is duo-able.

After a long session on studying Italian culture and a long-dead language Latin, it has been quite some time since the cultish collection of flowers kept you occupied. You haven’t found a way to make a use of the flowers yet.

Hand tucked under your chin as you sighed, unfocused and relented at your current studies, unaware a lean hand distributed a chocolate crunchy bar.

Gazing upwards, there you saw none other than Michael Gavey.

Michael, Michael…

Michael.

The cute nerd you wanted to see.

To fuck his glasses out of his aquiline nose bridge, squeezing at the back of his head while riding your drenched cunt against his face. The boy—the nerdy college boy—to moan equations under your grasp, showered him with your squirt like how your dreams went.

Your recent dreams have been wet.

Frequently wet.

From the innocent acts until escalated to frequent fucking in college’s library to the college class, to the kitchen counter in the dorms, then the bed, once cold now warm with squirt and jizz. Fun and erotic sights to see in your dreams and yearn for an experiment and watch the outcome resolve itself.

Up until now, the roses had come up subconsciously, an urge to unveil the mystery.

“Michael…” you uttered low, trying to maintain eye contact as possible without the possibility of crushing over someone who is a weirdo who loves math equations.

“You look exhausted,” he assumed.

But he assumed wrong.

“I was up. I was up all night,” you managed to say.

“Studying, I assume.”

“Playing video games,” you said. “I can’t stand quietness around the dorm. Makes me feel isolated.”

He hummed.

“I figured you wanted a krunchy,” Michael said, one of the little corners of his lips turned upward, seeing your eyes twinkled at the chocolate.

“I—I do,” you stuttered. “I love chocolate, especially with juicy jizz—glaze! Glaze! I just love glaze! Especially with donuts with nice glaze with nice ultimately sweet goopy filling on the center inside!”

Stomach coiled in embarrassment that you might as well tuck yourself to shame somewhere no one finds you on this earth.

You sighed, as Michael quirked his brow, unreachable but slightly—ever so more—confused. Even with shut eyes, the glint brightness of his nerdy glasses were glaring at you.

Daring to look at his long glance, your shoulders tensed. “Sorry, I had something on my mind since yesterday. It got me busy,” you explained, sighing, thinking of the afterthoughts of what to do with the flowers. Still useless of decorating, still useless with charitable case of donation. “I didn’t have coffee this morning.”

Knowing that in England, people prefer nice plain organic tea and biscuits or scones.

Distracted, the heat on your cheeks arise.

“Quite a little spectical, I’ll give you that,” Michael said with a dry chuckle, as your legs crossed, one foot making little kicks while Michael came and sat down beside you, almost with disinterested, but a peak of intrigued, hopefully not with a daunting comment.

Hoping he doesn’t know what jizz is. Better yet, a whole language of slang from the west.

For days you have been searching videos at the porn website. Masturbating over the spare time became quite useful for someone who’s randomly horny as you. Day or night.

Horny and desperate from wanting to touch you, but the moment some guy touches you, you instantly kicked him to the boot—nothing more.

They say every guy’s hands are experienced. But what experienced does a guy have other than being insensitive and dull and careless?

They offer nothing to the table, offered no speciality that could qualify or overreached your expectations. Every boy are dull, dull after dull. Nothing is exceptional.

Unless…

Michael’s red sweater kept you more occupied with a rather distinct distraction. It was a nice shade of rich red. A burgundy. Reminded you of the vibrant roses from previous nights.

Nearly groaned at the sight of his top, your legs crossed and clenched tighter. Lips bruised from your teeth clutching, no gash leaking over your lush red lips, as eyes wandered and admiringly over a single spectate.

He looked good in red. For a good, weird nerd.

I wonder if I bruise him good, too.

A good nerd. A weird nerd. Obsessed about equations and numbers.

I bet I could make him cuss out during sex. Moaning in numbers and letters while bucking yourself against does seem tempting. Not a typical guy who touches women, but does the lusty temptation escalated.

But he’s so stubborn.

Red scars and red bruises.

Red tears, maybe.

You fear as if your invisible red horns were sprouting on your head. Not that you dislike red horns. You fear someone might see it. In shadows, in daylight. You like to think yourself as a perverted, moody devil who’s in for a good long fuck. Except you haven’t had a proper date on a long run.

“There’s a Halloween party coming up soon,” Michael’s voice barged into your occupied thoughts. “Have you been looking into that?”

“Um, no,” you said stiffly.

“But I have. Apparently, only those who are qualified enough to go to party. As if I’m going with those looosersss.”

But you knew he’s been longing on being a cool kid but doesn’t know how.

Shoulder shrugged. “I don’t care much about the party. Not really my style.”

“I thought you’d go.”

“What makes you say that?”

He stared over your shoulder, and the indication is clear. Both Felix Catton and his cousin—what’s his face? You didn’t know.

“I saw them speaking to you in the morning.” Michael’s lips pouted.

Cute as fuck.

“Who? Them?” you scoffed. “I don’t know those fuckers. They just came up to me and I thought they’re trying to sell drugs or something.”

“But they were inviting you,” he persisted.

“So? I don’t care much the party life. If I actually want to go, I would’ve said yes and would fuck them in some way. But then again, I did say I’m going to think about it, just to make them back off. Especially that weirdo cousin.”

Michael’s brows tucked. “Fuck?”

Fuck. Wrong phrase.

“Anyway, it’s not my business…I have other plans to go for. Just not in the mood with parties for now. Unless….you’re going?”

Michael scoffed, taking out his math textbook and notebook.

“Guess not.” You went back to concentrate on your unfinished homework.

“What happened to your boyfriend, by the way?”

You shot at him with a dirty look. “Wait, that ugly fuck? I don’t care much about the dude.”

Talking about exes is a no-no, on a girl’s standard and rule when talking to the opposite sex. Especially when the said opposite you found oddly attractive with equation.

After shoving you out of the elevator, a dealbreaker has set in and decided to break things off as if you consider the guy exist.

You don’t even recall his name.

Michael’s relaxed hand recoiled to a fist. It was subtle.

Your eyes softened. “So…I do need help with something. Something that I’m having a hard time with, and I need some assistance with sums. Does that ring any bell?”

Michael smirked, his fist hasn’t uncoiled. “Math.”

You flashed a wink at him. “So, are you going to help a damsel in distress, or are you going to sit there and be emo?”

Michael’s eyes flickered. “Emo?”

Thank god he doesn’t know the slangs. He’s cute. I can feel my red horns are growing.

“Just help a poor girl out, please? With a red cherry on top?”

My cherry was dying to get out. I want Michael to pop my cherry.

Michael hummed, watching you. “Listen carefully, (Y/N). I’m not a patient man.”

“I can take the pain. Whatever you give me,” you said, winking.

Thank god Michael is oblivious to my pervy statement.

Michael hummed again. “The sooner we do this the better.”

You nodded and get the math textbook, but you knew it wasn’t enough, so you’re planning on gathering textbooks. But Michael is already a walking math textbook. Maybe he would explain things better.

“You’re nails. They’re red,” he said.

Your heart palpitated. “You like them?”

Michael hummed.

You wanted to tackle and jump on his face with your wet cunt.

Despite the randomness crossing your mind, you took it as a yes.

Dear Diary,

I want to shove my fingers in his mouth as I bounce on his cock.

~~~

It’s been hours since Michael taught you with math problems, including xyz and triangular shapes and parentheses. As much as you despise the numbers and the math’s creator, you watched Michael’s lips formed in soft curls and once in a while his tongue peaked out.

I want him to lick my hot, wet pussy.

Make this perverted girl happy.

Lick my wet cherry.

Not long before, the library is almost empty. And thus, the conclusion of tutoring session is over. So you devised a plan.

“Instead here, why don’t you go at my dorm? You know, we could study there. The library is too echoey and I hate it when my voices gets suddenly too loud. How does that sound?

You swore you saw Michael’s eyes suddenly glinted, like a pouted cat turned mischievous, almost naughty. But in plain sight.

Without Michael saying anything, you said, “Great. I’ll see you there. Don’t forget your smart pants when you meet at my dorm.”

~~~

Michael’s plan came into a fruition. He knew that offering for a tutoring session could get closer to you. With that annoying boy-toy you used to hookup with has been nagging in. As he knocked on your door, you opened, revealing your bright smile and welcoming, realizing she kept all the flowers he gave you, hoping you enjoy the gift.

His heart skipped a beat.

The closer to you, the more chances to get a glimpse of your personal life. The more he’ll see the true you.

His heart skipped a beat.

As for the boy you casually hook up with, hopefully no one finds his body.

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