#you didn't expect a fic like that did you?

[mocchii-writes]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

can you do a thanos fic where the reader is like weak and shy, and nam gyu thinks they're manipulating her by keeping her close, but thanos just actually really likes her

(inspired by thanos calling min su cute in that one scen)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You'll be the First Who Ever Did

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader

Summary: Nam-gyu is under the impression Thanos is using you, but he doesn't realize Thanos is just head over heels for you.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Reader gets anxiety, normal squid game stuff, not proof-read ♡

A/n: This is such a cute idea, rahh!!

~🍡🍡

You were obviously scared. As any normal person should be! It was an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. You're not a fan of unfamiliarity, so you kept to yourself. You were never one for socializing, and certainly not here, but it kind of bugged you that people thought they could walk all over you for it. Not that you would really do anything about it, nor did you want to.

But your luck seems to run dry when you're approached by someone. Someone you can only say has made quite the reputation for himself.

"Senorita, excuse me." He says. You almost don't think he's talking to you, but you turn around to see him looking right at you. You're immediately caught off guard because you've never really gotten a good look at him until now.

Thanos was actually quite attractive by your standards, so you take a moment to look at him before responding. He has pretty eyes, with dilated pupils. His hair is unique, but you can't say the purple doesn't suit him. His facial features just have harmony, y'know? Like he was sculpted by a silent artist and shared with the world.

You snap yourself back to reality after losing your train of thought for a moment. You hope he hadn't noticed your actions, but he had.

"Yeah?" You respond, almost quiet enough that he would have to lean in, but you're glad he doesn't.

"We have 4 people, care to join us?" He says, flashing a smile. You look around, almost hoping someone would swoop in and send you to outer space, but you eventually nod. His friend seems a little upset about it, but he doesn't say anything. "Great, we could use a pretty face." He says, loosely throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading the way. You don't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it was a stressful game, your team somehow made it through pretty easily. You had collected in a corner, talking about the next vote. Well, you weren't really talking, but you were listening. Nam-gyu didn't seem to like you. That was easy to notice. He told you to go around and count the remaining players, but you were quickly defended by Thanos.

"Cut it out, man. She's just sitting here, she didn't do anything wrong." He says it in a pretty funny voice, probably trying to sound cool, but you really appreciate the help anyway. You don't say anything, but you look at him and flash a small smile. He surprisingly smiles back, his features softening a bit before he moves on.

Then, a familiar buzzing is heard, and a few guards come into the room and set up the voting system. Your group had agreed to vote to stay, but you suddenly felt kind of anxious about it. You shouldn't be here, and you know it. Before you can think about it too long, though, everyone slowly shuffles out of their hiding spots, collecting at the back of the room and waiting for their numbers to be called.

Nam-gyu and Thanos both place their predicted votes, and before you know it, you hear your number.

You freeze, but feel your legs moving ahead of your thoughts. You begin to panic. You can't stay here, you know you can't. You'll die in the next game if X doesn't win, though. You'd be giving up your protection, and you know it.

You knew Thanos just saw you as a vote. You can't deny it almost hurt, but you wouldn't expect any less from him. But you also can't deny the way your stomach flipped when he playfully touched your shoulders or how your brain malfunctioned when he held your gaze a little longer than usual. You wanted him to like you, but you pushed it down. It hurt, but your heart could recover pretty quickly with just the sound of his voice.

You glance to your right, only met by the face of Nam-gyu, signaling his false confidence in you with some gesture, but you look back to the buttons, lighting your hands and face with the soft hue of light from each one. You look up to the numbers above your head and feel yourself push a button. You panic, looking down from the numbers to see the red light coating your face. Without a new patch, you quietly walk to the side of X, your mind running faster and faster as you dread the results, but they eventually come.

You lost.

You exhale, but not with relief. You can see Nam-gyu walking to you, but you look at your hands in shame. You feel a hand on your arm as you tense, biting your lip. You knew they would be mad, and you knew you did this to yourself.

"It's okay." You hear. But not from Nam-gyu. His voice is soft and reassuring, providing a strange sense of comfort. Your eyes widen as you look up quickly to see Thanos looking back at you. You're so relieved to see him, but catch yourself. He's just using you, right? You distract your eyes as you mutter an apology. You can hear Nam-gyu scoffing as he walks away, but Thanos keeps his eyes on you. "I'm not angry with you, Flower." He says. You can't tell if he's manipulating you or not, but you honestly don't want to know. You just nod and avoid his eyes. "I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here, but you know you're safe with me. Do you want to leave because you don't think I'm protecting you?"

You shake your head, looking up again. "Sorry.." Is all you can whisper, seeing him sigh and look elsewhere. You look back at your hands, and he doesn't respond for a while, just brushing his fingers against your arm, comforting you the best he can.

"C'mon, it's dinner." He eventually whispers. You look up, not realizing the time that had passed. You nod, refraining from apologizing again, and head to the line.

I might do a pt 2 to this cuz it doesn't feel complete imo, but lmk!

~🍡🍡

send requests!!

[amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet]

Wanted to chime in as someone who has actively posted long fics on Wattpad (which does chapter votes) as well as now on AO3, would strongly agree with the creators in the tags here saying that's what comments are for.

I only have the one fic really still on Wattpad so I don't mean to use the numbers here as a humble brag, but it helps illustrate the topic I mean (also dates are showing most recent edits, in case there are confusions in my descriptions here).

Screenshots from my work Goddess of Secrecy on Wattpad as an example. Already on the first chapter to the second, there is a massive fall off of readership. Now, reader drop off is normal! And to be expected! But it's a lot easier to process that when you don't have hard proof of exactly where that happened. And so the continued drop off being visible is the data that's less fun to look at.

It also reflects that most readers will still only use the votes system like kudos anyway, which compounds the issue with these numbers to the writer: it'll always reads as a reader drop off from this end. I have no reason to tell why someone stopped reading, particularly just on votes alone. So I'm just going to assume it wasn't good enough to keep following at some particular chapter. It also leads to a lot of second guessing is the votes aren't consistent! If a regular reader only leaves a kudos every ~5 chapters, what was wrong with the other 4 chapters between? Why did the pattern suddenly get more erratic? Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria and Imposter Syndrome are already common enough in creators, adding more ways for someone to not interact with the work only adds more chances of making those symptoms worse. This gets highlighted more when we add in the very common occurrence in fic writing and that's hiatus.

These two screenshots are showing two major hiatus breaks I took on this fic, from 2015-2017, and then 2017-2024. While obviously with a hiatus you can't expect all readership to return, having hard numbers on exactly how many people came back is also really frustrating. And discouraging. Because now I'm left wondering why that many people didn't come back. And I can see exactly how much of a drop off it was.

You know what the difference was with finishing this fic in 2024 though? Actively commenting readers. Only three of them. But they were engaging with me actively in my comment sections and on my other social media. And that motivation got me through finishing the work and starting my next long fic. Because I knew someone was reading. They were telling me they were here reading. Kudos/votes don't reflect that, comments do.

This is also reflected in my current experience with posting on AO3 as well (I don't have visible metrics for this in the same way). But my biggest boosts of readership for my long fics are from reader recommendations. Every time someone leaves a public bookmark or recs the work somewhere, I see my biggest increases in kudos and new readers. A new active commenter is one of those boosts too. It shows other readers that someone is actively engaging through the length of the work enough that maybe they should give it a try too. And it means more. Storytelling is meant to be interactive, not passive. This isn't traditional publishing, you can engage directly with these creators. Take advantage of that opportunity!

I understand this sentiment. And there is always some serotonin in numbers go up. But. Anyone can hit a kudos button. It doesn't mean they're reading. In fact, adding more chapter kudos like this creates the opposite problem of encouraging people to post in short works right now and creates the issue in the other direction. One very long work with a writer with either a lot of time or a few good friends could make kudos bloat that's not reflective of actual readership. Comments can be done by bots, but not nearly as easily as votes/kudos can be.

So really, there is already a solution here. It's commenting. Even something simple. Fandom thrives on community engagement. There is no shortcut way around it like more ways to vote without compounding the problem. You want to support fandom creators, you have to be an active fandom participant.

i wish ao3 allowed people to give kudos per each chapter. These 100k word NOVELS need more love than 200 tiny digital hearts ☹️

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[simpurnatural]

"Flustered" || Short-Fiction

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Back to back Min Ho fics??? Didn't expect to get so much positive feedback. Thanks for going easy on ya girl, I'm still a bit rusty! Enjoy and make sure to wipe that drool off your face babe!"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, A little bit of Smut, Language, Sorta Proofread

As the fall semester came to an end, with everyone not wanting to part ways even for a just a month, Min Ho decides to invite the entire friend group for a winter getaway.

“Where’s Y/n?” Asked Dae which made everyone’s heads turn before the sound of snow crunching was heard.

You approached the group that was currently enjoying the hot tub, arms crossed to keep your robe shut. Min Ho suggested that the hot tub would be best way to relax after a day of travelling

“Hi! Sorry I’m late to the party,” you smiled whilst kicking off your slippers, then sliding your robe off your shoulders.

“Hot damn girl,” Q said, overcame with astonishment. "Drop the workout routine asap please," he joked as everyone's eyes lingered on your figure.

“Oh stop it,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “This old thing isn’t worth the hype,” you insisted, but everyone would’ve begged to differ.

The navy blue two piece you were sporting hugged all the right places. Your ass and tits looked like they needed saving. The sight was definitely giving body tea.

Everyone watched as you made your descent into the tub and sat in between Kitty and Min Ho. Kitty had given you a small wave whereas Min Ho could barely make eye contact. Various conversations continued but Min Ho remained in an unlike-him-silence.

He wondered how he had not noticed how hot you looked until now. Not saying that looks are everything, but Min Ho felt stuck on how he never gave you a second glance.

"-Right Min Ho?" Dae asks, turning to his best friend who was clearly zoning out.

"Sorry what?" Min Ho replied, snapping out of his trance.

"We're gonna be able to go skiing first thing tomorrow, right?" Dae reiterated, a slight tiredness in his voice due to Min Ho's lack of contribution to the conversation.

"Of course," Min Ho nodded before his gaze back on you, who was too busy chatting with Yuri and Kitty to realizing anything else.

"Woah okay, this is new," Q teased, as his eyes followed Min Ho's. "The bikini has got your eyes lurkin'" he says, making Jin snicker at the observation.

"What are you guys talking about?" you ask with an unaware smile on your lips, Min Ho's eyes instantly looking down.

"Min Ho here seems to have-" Q began.

"Shut it," Min Ho tsked before moving to leave the hot tub.

"Hey, we were just joking," Jin called out as Min Ho shuffled back into the house.

"What was that about?" Yuri questioned, all conversations now put on pause.

"Is Min Ho okay?" Kitty asked, looking to the other boys occupying the hot tub.

"He's just a little flustered," Dae replied, the feeling of worry instantly overcame you.

"Did I do something?" you say wide-eyed but to no response. "I'll go check on him," you say before making your way out of the tub and walking towards the house. "Min Ho?" your voice echoed throughout the home.

You noticed a light coming from inside the kitchen and chose to investigate. There stood Min Ho, chugging a bottle of water with his slim yet toned physique being illuminated by the refrigerator light. He began to cough up said water after realizing your presence.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he coughed, covering his face with the inside of his elbow. "What is it Y/n?" he asks while shutting the fridge door.

"What's with you?" you quizzed, "Ever since I joined you guys outside, you've been quiet and when I tried to converse with you-you run back inside!" you add with a hint of frustration in your voice.

"It's not my fault-"

"-So it's mine? What did I do wrong?" you cut off, urgently wanting an answer as to why your friend was avoiding you.

"Y/n, it's because y-you literally look like t-that!" Min Ho exclaimed as if it were common knowledge. "How else is a guy supposed to act when you decide walk around wearing something like that?" he questioned.

"Is what I have on not okay? Was there something in my hair?" you blabbered in response, instantly being overcame with the self-conscious feeling.

"It's fact that when I saw you earlier, I wish you didn't have anything on" Min Ho muttered in an almost whisper like volume.

The realization finally hit you, Min Ho had been eyeing you since you stepped into the hot tub. You face flushed a bright red, clearly flattered by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"So what you're saying is-"

"What I'm saying is that you look almost too good," Min Ho said, his voice deep and eyes darkened like a lion about to pounce on his next prey.

The small distance between the two of you shut in almost an instant, his hand cupped the side of your face gently. You could've sworn that the beat of your heart could be heard from miles away.

Your lack of response gave Min Ho time to lift you up and place you on the kitchen counter. Accidentally, you let out a small whimper at the feeling of the cold tile touching your skin. Min Ho felt as if he could've finished off that noise alone.

Standing between your legs, Min Ho's hands traveled all the way back down to your ass. You watched his eyes really take in your body, as if he could drink you up like a glass of water.

"Tell me to stop, and I will" Min Ho whispered as he gave your plump skin a squeeze.

Leaning in with your lips close to his ear, finally you replied, "I don't think I want you to stop".

Min Ho took this as his green light and you felt as his hands unclasped your bikini top. Grabbing the piece of clothing, he tossed away fand his eyes settled on your breast.

Biting his lip, Min Ho took one of each into his hands. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful Y/n," he said with is his accent thick, almost like he was about to melt at the sight of you.

You gasped at the feeling of his breath on your tits, causing a domino effect of butterflies and goosebumps to cover you. Min Ho chuckled at this, rubbing your nipples with his thumb in a circular motion.

Eyes closed; you threw your head back at the sensation before feeling something foreign come in contact with your breast. Min Ho's tongue began exploring your chest. It was as if he was trying to paint a picture.

His grasp on your tits became slightly more secure as he was egged on by your moans. He was marking his territory all over you with bright red hickeys.

Your half assed attempt to stifle your moans was with the palm of your hand. Min Ho however loved how loud you were getting for him and yanked your hand away from your face.

"I want to hear you," he insisted, pulling his lips away from your chest for a mere moment. "I want to hear you all night," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

"Uh guys?" a voiced that belonged to Yuri called out. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trailing off into the hallway probably in search of you both.

Min Ho looked down with a smile on his face before getting your swim top from the ground. You quickly put it back on then pulled your hair to the front to cover the marks Min Ho left behind.

"W-we're here Yuri!" you replied hopping off the counter and walking out of the kitchen with Min Ho right behind you.

As Yuri came walking back towards you guys, her head tilted to the side in confusion, "What were you guys doing over there in the dark?"

"Just got some water," Min Ho replied, which seemingly convinced Yuri enough for her to walk back outside. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered in your ear, giving your ass a slap.

JAN 2025

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!

[vvanillal]

𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ Forbidden Desires꣑ৎ 𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ

Summary- You and Harry were supposed to be ‘Causal’.

Warnings- Harry Potter x F!Reader, Angst, Smut, Jealous!Harry, Possessive!Harry If You Squint, Fingering, Eating Out

Word Count- 2.6k!

A/N- AHHHH ANOTHER HARRY SMUT. I loved writing this one. Also don’t mind that the reader is a Slytherin 2 fics in a row. MY REQUEST ARE OPEN

It was a secret: you and Harry. You’d both made a promise to each other not to say anything. You also made another promise: no strings attached. It was hard, truly. Especially since it had been Harry. He could have any woman he wanted, and for some reason he chose to be… something, with you.

At first, it went fine. You could even say it was the happiest you’d been in a while; sneaking around with Harry. He would do sweet things, like pass you notes in classes you shared. ‘You look beautiful today,” one had read. That day, all you did was curl your hair; you hadn’t even put makeup on. Then, it became something he would just do. You were sure people noticed in class, when you’d giggle to yourself with a little piece of paper in your hand. You’d just be walking in the hallway some days, and feel someone pull you into a darkened corner. Harry, or you, were never even sure it was ‘safe’, but you never heard any talk about it. So you kept doing it. After every class, you looked forward to feeling a hand jerk you away from the crowd. He’d push you against the cold, brick wall, pressing himself against you as close as possible. His lips would nip at your neck, trying not to leave marks. Your breath would be heavy as you tried to be as quiet as possible. “Harry, we’re going to be late,” you’d whisper. “I just need to feel you for a few more seconds,” he’d whisper back, his lips parted against your collarbone. Each time, he touched you like he hadn’t in days. Harry craved you, all day every day.

Just like you expected though, the happiness didn’t last long. Soon, it became apparent that for Harry, you couldn’t breathe in the same direction as another man. You could tell when he was mad; you could see it in the way his stare was hardened with yours, and you could feel it in the way his touch was rough enough to leave bruises. “Harry? I know you’re upset, so tell me what’s wrong,” you said one day. You watched as he slammed his books shut and shoved them into his backpack; everyone else cleared from the classroom. His leg had been bouncing the whole class, and his fist was clenched on top of the table. He clenched them so hard his knuckles had turned white. “Don’t act dense, Y/N.” You watched as he stormed out of the classroom, leaving you to dwell. That had been the first time he’d genuinely been upset. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots, realizing the pattern. He’d only act like this when he caught you socializing with another man.

This particular time though had left the two of you not talking for days. You and Neville talked a little too much at dinner, apparently. And apparently Neville fixing your hair after it was sticking up, was too much. You weren’t going to listen to Harry criticize him when he was one of your friends. Once you admitted Neville had been one of your friends, he stormed off to his bedroom. He hasn’t talked to you since, Harry.

You didn't know when Harry was going to talk to you, but by the looks of it, he hadn't planned to. You watched him from the end of the Slytherin table as he flirted with Ginny. Sure, he had always been flirty with other girls; because of course, you two were casual. But he hadn’t flirted like this. He was touchy, way too touchy. And he walked Ginny to every class, and you were sure you had seen them kiss. Or they were about to, you looked before you could watch the rest.

The truth was, Harry wasn’t casual to you. You had feelings for him, real feelings. Countless nights you had cried over his hurtful actions, and then the next day he was sweet. It was a never ending cycle. It wasn’t like you could talk to people about it; you truly kept the secret, not even telling your best friend. You could never bring yourself to tell Harry how you felt, because you were sure he didn’t feel the same. You were sure he just thought of you as casual.

It had been exactly a week, today, since you and Harry had spoken. And you are certain now that he didn’t give a shit about you anymore. It was going to be hard, going to watch the Quidditch match later, and acting like you didn’t support him. Harry knew before whose side you were on, whether or not you were in a different house or not. But that’s what you did; you went to the Quidditch match and pretended you loved that Gryffindor was losing.

The match was intense. It had always been this way for Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor, but today was just different. Harry wasn’t playing like he normally would. He seemed slower on his broom, and he still hadn’t caught the snitch. You couldn’t stop watching him, because every once in a while, his eyes would meet with yours in the stands. The match halfway over, and still neither of the seekers had caught the snitch. But then, Harry spotted it, and he was after it. The opposing seeker was right on his tail though, following him intently. Harry reached out and tried to grab the snitch, but he missed. The Slytherin seeker took a shortcut, suddenly, and cut off Harry. Apparently Harry wasn’t watching very well though, because they bumped into each other. And apparently he wasn’t holding on very well either, because he’d fallen from his broom. The Slytherin seeker smirked, and was off after the snitch once more. You let your hand cover your mouth, listening to the eruptions of whispers around you. You stood on your tippy toes to see Harry sitting on the ground, his hand covering the right side of his forehead. He was okay. He’d just gotten a cut it looked like. You couldn’t resist going to check on him though, even if it was just a little cut. You saw him get up from the sandy ground, and found yourself pushing between people. “Excuse me, sorry- Excuse me,” you said as you made your way across the stands, watching Harry go back into the Gryffindor locker loom. The game looked to be resuming though.

You looked behind you to make sure no one was following you into the locker room, and you saw Harry sitting on the bench with a paper towel against his cut. He looked up, seeing who walked in, and his eyes softened for a split second at the sight of a worried you, and then turned into a glare. It was beginning to be a classic for him. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, Y/N,” your name was like poison escaping from his lips. “Harry please, don’t act like this.” That’s all you could say, it was the only words you could find. You hadn’t even meant to come off so desperate, but you know you did. He scoffed, flipping over the towel to the clean side. The towel was soaked with blood. “Jesus Harry, let me see,” you said with concern, walking over to him quickly. He didn’t protest, lifting the towel enough for you to see. It was a nasty cut, small, but nasty. You looked around the room for anything as you saw a door with a first aid kit hanging on it. “Come here,” you said, grabbing his wrist. He stood up, but jerked his hand back. “I’m not fucking incapable of walking,” he snapped. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t.

The room was small, a little bit bigger than what’s considered to be a large pantry. Backed up against the back wall was an infirmary bed, with 2 chairs beside each end. And behind the door was a sink, with a cabinet above it. “Sit down,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit off the door, closing it and walking over to the sink. You looked through the cabinet for sterile saline to clean his wound; unmistakably feeling his eyes watching you. You found the saline, and gauze along with it. You stood between his legs, dabbing his wound with the wet gauze. He winced, and his face scrunched in pain. The pushing together of his skin only made it bleed more. “Hold pressure,” you said, and Harry did as you said. You dug through the first aid kid and found wound closing tape, exactly what you needed. You got a new gauze, wetting it with saline again.

“Harry, we can’t keep doing this,” you broke the silence, trying to get the wound to stop bleeding; “I can’t keep doing this,” you rephrased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his eyes locked with yours. “I know you don’t give a shit anymore. It’s been obvious for a while. I wish you would just end things properly instead of giving me false hope and then continuing to fuck other girls,” your voice was shaky. This was hard. You applied the tape after his wound stopped bleeding, but you didn’t move from your spot. You only backed up to give him room; and Harry still sat on the bed. “What are you talking about, Y/N,” he raised his voice, his eyes darkening. “Oh please, don’t act like I haven’t seen you and Ginny. Don’t act like I didn’t see you kiss her in the hallway. How many more are there that I’m not seeing,” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest to comfort yourself. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, laughing mockingly. That had done it… he’s just pissed you off. “No YOU are ridiculous. We’re supposed to be casual, but I didn’t know that it came with rules. I didn’t know you would get pissed off when I breathed in another man’s direction. This is tiring Harry, truly. I can’t keep doing this and getting hurt,” you were crying now. Whenever he didn’t say anything, you shook your head, “we’re done,” you said. You turned on your heels, ready to walk out.

Just before you could get the door open, you felt Harry grab your wrist, pulling you back and against the wall. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he said, cageing you between his body and the wall. Then, you slapped him across the face, and you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even thought about it, you just did it. “It’s your fault,” you spat. His hand came up to the side of his cheek, feeling the hotness your hand left behind. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his hand now coming to the side of your face, letting his thumb caress your cheek. “No you’re not. This was never casual for me, Harry. I feel things for you… I have feelings for you,” you admit, raising your voice in front of a rather calm Harry. You open your mouth to say more, but he cuts you off with his lips against yours. You push him back as quickly as you could, “Don’t you dare. You’re dirty, Harry. It’s untelling how many other people you’ve kissed in the past few days,” you scream, pointing a finger at him. You were kind of being a hypocrite now. He just engulfs your hands in his. “I haven’t kissed anyone else, Y/N. I haven’t touched anyone else,” he says softly, looking at you with equally soft eyes. “Why do you keep hurting me then? And how do you explain Ginny, ” you ask, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I just can’t stand to see you even talking to another guy. I feel nothing for Ginny. I swear it was only to make you jealous. I have feelings for you too, Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t even think at that point. You grab his face roughly, smashing your lips against his. He returns the energy, instantly deepening the kiss by squeezing your waist. You feel for the doorknob, locking it. “I’m so sorry,” he said between kisses. “Shut up,” you moan.

He lets his hand slip onto your back, guiding you to the infirmary bed, his lips never leaving yours. Your ass hits the back of the bed, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth. “Let me repay you,” he says, breaking the kiss just to begin kissing your neck. You moan at his words, “how?” He drops to his knees, looking up at you with big eyes full of desire. You get the message, quickly pulling down your skirt. He groans at the sight of your red, lace panties, “you’re still so perfect,” he whispers. His eyes just looked hungry now.

You throw your leg over his shoulder, letting your thigh rest on the space. You tangle your hands in his hair as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit. “I missed you so much,” you say, lips parting at the sight of him looking up at you. He moves your lace to the side, his wet mouth coming in contact with your clit. You shiver at the coldness, pulling at the strands of his hair, producing a groan from him. The vibrations went straight to your core, causing you to whimper in delight.

This wasn’t the first time he ate you out, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. He loved doing it, and every time he did, he ate you out like it was his last meal. He loved watching your face twist in pleasure, and hearing the sweet sounds leave your lips. It was no different this time.

His tongue worked against your sensitive bud; even more sensitive now from getting nothing for a week. You nearly scream when you feel two of his fingers push past your entrance. “Fuck Harry, just like that,” you whine. Your legs were beginning to become weak from the pleasure. You look down at him and find him watching you, observing the pleasure he was giving you. He curled his fingers in your cunt, and you had to cover your mouth. You feared the people all the way outside, in the stands, would hear you. You bring your free hand up and begin touching your clothed nipples. Harry moaned against your clit at the sight.

“I’m so close, Harry,” you moan, not caring how loud you were being now. He inserted another finger in you, and curled his fingers once more, pushing them in and out. He felt for your sweet spot, until he found it. “Shit,” you moan, throwing your head back. You didn’t know whether to focus on the feeling of his tongue flicking sweetly against your clit, or the feeling of his fingers pulsing into you. Either way, you were close. He knew this already, you didn’t have to tell him. He could feel you clench around his fingers. “I’m gonna-” you came before you could even finish your sentence. “Fuck,” you groan, the feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body. Your legs shook weakly.

After the feeling of your orgasm subsided, you freed your leg from his shoulder, and he stood up, helping you put on your skirt. “Am I forgiven,” he said, a smirk on his face as he licked you off of his fingers. You watch him, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m going to do better,” he said, pulling you closer to him. “You’re forgiven,” you said, smiling. The sound of celebrating Gryffindors could be heard coming into the locker room. Apparently they had made a comeback. How were you going to explain why Harry’s hair was messed up, and why both of you were red, and why you had taken so long for such a small cut, and most importantly why you were in the locker room.

[sturniololuv08]

TreeHouse Chapter 11

"Matty wants to see you in his room."

Summary: Matt gets angry.

"Anger is like hot blood rushing through your veins."

⚠️This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.⚠️

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

Chris' POV:

She said she wouldn't let it go; honestly, I didn't want her to. But I knew the things she didn't. I knew if Matt found out I even talked to her, I would probably die. I thought about death often. Not in the sense I wanted to die necessarily but more so in the sense if it happened, I wouldn't be surprised anymore. I decided to walk home instead of taking the bus to help avoid Sienna—my Nessie.

I remember everything about her now. I accidentally trauma-blocked her. Leaving her behind, not knowing I wasn't going to see her for years, was the worst thing to ever happen to me. Worse than any beating I have ever taken. I remember that evening clearly. We got home, and Mom was livid that Father allowed me to go over there. She punished me by hitting me with the kitchen broom over and over. I begged our dad to help me, but I think that was his breaking point. He stopped being my father that day.

Since then, everyone in the house has treated me this way. I was alone. I lost everything. I held onto Nessie for a while. I imagined us playing together in the treehouse often. Sometimes, when Matt would use me as his personal punching bag, I would picture her doe eyes lighting up when I did something silly. She was my anchor until I forgot her. No matter how hard I try, I can't pinpoint the exact moment I forgot; I just did.

I was coming up to her house. I walked a little slower, secretly hoping she would see me and stop me. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her or be friends again. I didn't want the assaults that I knew would come with her friendship.

"Chris!" I looked up and saw her walking to the gate. I felt a sense of relief. "Can we talk?" She asked. I knew I didn't have much time to talk, but I wanted to. I needed to hear her voice.

"Not long, okay?" I just needed to be home at a decent time so no one got suspicious of my absence. She opened the gate, and I passed through. I followed her to the treehouse. For some reason, coming here during the day felt different. It felt heavier. She climbed up without issues. I tried my best not to show the pain in my arm, but I still winced enough for her to notice.

"What happened to your arm?"

"We can talk, but not about that." I was stern. She had to know not to press the issue.

"Okay." Her voice was soft and a little broken. I looked around the treehouse. Nothing had changed.

"It looks the exact same," I told her.

"I haven't been in here in years." She was also looking around like it was brand new.

"Why?" I asked.

"You left, and it just reminded me of you too much." I felt my words lumping in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything. I needed her to know it wasn't my choice to leave her behind. I never would have. But I couldn't. If this was still the same kind-hearted, strong-willed Nessie, I knew she would try to help, and it would just make it worse. I avoided looking at her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at her.

"Are you guys brothers?" She asked again. I felt the lump in my throat dissipate into tears. I needed to leave.

"I have to get home." I lied. Nothing pleased me more than not being at home.

"Chris, you can tell me." She reached for me and grabbed my hand, which made my skin crawl. I lurched away from the unwanted contact. She looked hurt.

"I have to get home," I said, starting to climb down. She followed me, as I expected.

"Chris, what happened to you?" She pleaded for an answer I couldn't give her no matter how badly I wanted to. I kept walking. Eventually, I heard her footsteps stop following behind me. I didn't dare look back at her. I felt like I already knew what she looked like. I made it to our house. On the outside, it was well-kept and looked nice. You'd never guess the hell that happened inside of it.

"What took you so long to get home?" Mother was right by the door in seconds.

"I wal -" She smacked my face. I looked down at the floor.

"I didn't say you could talk." Her threat didn't make sense since she asked me a question. I nodded, still not looking up. Part of me didn't like looking at her face. She was my mother, but her disdain for my presence distorted how she looked at me. I wanted to envision a mother who loved and cared for me just like Matt and Nick. She smacked the side of my head again for nothing. "Matty wants to see you in his room." Her words made my blood cold. I felt a jolt of fear sting through my body. I lifted my head to look at her now. "Fucking go." She pushed me towards the hallway leading to their rooms and my old one. I sulked slowly, knowing nothing about this was going to end well. I stood outside his bedroom door shaking. My whole body already felt light, and my head was full of air, ready to pop. I knocked, knowing I had no choice but to.

"Get in here." Nothing about his tone was calm. I could tell he was already mad about something. I stepped into the room. "Shut the fucking door." He was standing in the middle of his room with his arms folded. I quietly shut the door. I noticed Nick's absence, which meant this would be very personal. "Drop your bag." I knew I had to do everything I was told to do because if I didn't, then I would just get punished by Mom. I dropped the bag on the floor with a thud. "Why were you talking to Si today?" I was going to die. My eyes widened, realizing he had seen her chasing me around at some point.

"She talked to me." I tried to explain.

"Why the fuck did you talk to Sienna?" Matt's voice boomed, and I whimpered at the sudden volume change. I knew it didn't matter what I said. He wouldn't care.

"I used to know her," I told the truth.

"Well, you don't fucking know her anymore." He walked up to me and slammed my back against his door. "Got it?" Before I could respond, he grabbed my uncut, shaggy hair and started slamming my hand back into the wooden frame. "I asked you a question." He hissed.

"Yes, Matt. I won't -" He threw me to the ground. I turned over to see him walking over to me. He reared his foot back and kicked me right in the stomach. I curled up. This was it. He kicked me again and again. I felt the sole of his shoes kissing my blood vessels until they popped, creating purple splotches.

"Sienna is fucking my girl." He was carelessly aiming his kick but ensured his white shoes made contact with my body. I started coughing and groaning from the fire rising inside me. "If I see you talk to her again -" He kicked my mouth. My head lurched back from the decisive blow. I felt warm liquid start oozing. "I will fucking kill you." He screamed. I'm sure everyone in the house heard him. I knew it would be the worst whenever Nick wasn't involved with Matt's special attention towards me. He kicked my face again, and I felt the blood splatter like a flicked paintbrush. He kept going, stomping on me every once in a while when he felt like really putting the pain on me. I was feeling sick to my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up from the immense pain. "I better not see you talk to her ever again." Matt gave me one last kick to the face. He left his room to go somewhere. I lay on the floor with my tiny blood pool and splatters. His blood stained shoes left red foot prints leading out the door.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came out. I couldn't breathe, and for the first time since ever being treated this way, I wanted to die. I lay in his room, uncomfortable, fearing his return. The door opened, and I couldn't even move to look and see who it was. I was picked up and dragged down the hall with my feet sliding against the floor. I was tossed in the tub with all my clothes still on. The water was turned on, and I was left alone. I felt something bubbling inside me, and I let it out of my mouth. The bile burned coming up. There were red blood streaks mixed in. The water imediately started washing it away. As soon as I felt myself catching my breath, my eyes became too heavy to keep open.

A/N I promise everything happening is for a reason lmaooo

TreeHouse Taglist:

@trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols @chriss-slutt @middlepartmatt @blushsturns @shadowtheism @fratbrochrisgf @loveparqdise @courta13 @sturniolo-fann @verstarkey @chrissweetheart @bluetalia @sturns-mermaid @wattttttttno @sturnioloshottiekay @pair-of-pantaloons @sophia-77n @adoremattsturns

This fic is TAGLIST SPECIFIC, meaning in order to be tagged in this, you HAVE to be on the list. I'm doing this because of TRIGGERS.

REBLOG INSTRUCTIONS: I don't mind just please stress the trigger warnings so no backlash comes back to me!

New Info: to be removed from the taglist just DM me.

[angelrissa]

"Savior" Simon Riley x F!Reader

previous next

CW : noncon/dubcon, dark fic, smut, descriptions of wounds and injuries, kidnapping kinda

You couldn't have been out for that long, your wounds certainly weren't healed but seemed cleaner. Cleaner as in dirt wasn't seeping into every cut, and blood didn't trickle down your body but that was the most of it. Your body was still burdened by what was left of your bloody and torn-up gear. 

You feel somewhat rested. Rested enough to want to sit up on what feels to be a couch, an old one for certain, you can practically feel the springs digging into your already sore back. The room smelled musty like nobody had lived there for years, but with the sparks of fire illuminating the fireplace across the room, you could tell that wasn't true.

Even with your mind hazy it only took a few heavy footsteps on the creaky floorboards to jolt you awake and out of your cloudy state. Even with your poor memory, you understood what was going on. You remember the shadow, the man who stared at you for what felt like an eternity admiring your injuries instead of listening to your pleas for help. 

You remember him, You blinked up at him, trying to focus through the dizziness that swarmed your head. With his features slowly coming into view you can't help the whimper that escapes your chapped lips. He wasn't something you wanted to look at right now. He was massive. He was tall and built with enough muscle to snap you in half if he wanted to, and oh he looked like he wanted to. He wore a mask, a balaclava adorned with skull stitching that completely covered his face. The only thing visible were his deep brown eyes.

He just stands there, staring at you like he's assessing what to do next. Like you're not human worthy of respect. You let out an embarrassing squeak when he kneels in front of the couch, large hands reaching out but stopping midway at the sound you make. 

“Shush m’ not gonna hurt you. Gonna take good care of you”

For the first time hearing his voice, it was exactly what you expected. Frightening. A deep gravel that sounded authoritative, it shut your whimpering up almost immediately. His words did almost nothing for you besides send a shiver down your spine, it was far from assuring. 

You stayed silent as He loomed above, watching you with a hungry gaze as he roughly swiped a cloth drenched in alcohol over your wounds. You hissed at the sting, reflexively trying to curl away. Not before his hand fisted a chunk of your hair, yanking you back roughly causing you to let out an unexpecting gasp.

“Quit squirming or I'll leave you like this”

He said in a whisper. His face was scarily close to yours now, his hot breath on your cheek, so close that you could smell the stench of cigarettes on his breath, it assaulted your senses in a way that made you want to gag. 

Soon his other hand released your hair only to trail down the side of your neck, following the flutter of your pulse. Pressing thick fingers into the tender skin, squeezing and prodding at the flesh just for the fun of seeing you squirm.

"Please" you whispered, voice coming out raspier than you expected. "Help me."

“That's more like it," He praised, thumb stroking your jaw. His fingers moved lower, tugging at the torn bulletproof vest that clung by blood to your skin. "Gonna take good care of you, sweetheart."

He stripped the vest away, leaving you a little more exposed. His hands ran over the swell of your breasts through the filthy tank top you wore. You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears falling down your cheeks as he palmed your soft breasts. It was more than devastating, it hurt so badly because you had a gut feeling this would happen. You should’ve known not to even think about trusting a man like him.

He snapped you out of your thoughts when he roughly pinched a nipple through the fabric, twisting until you yelped. "This what you wanted, baby? Needed someone to make you feel good," he growled.

Revulsion churned in your gut but he just chuckled darkly. His fingers undid the clasp of your bra, throwing the dirtied fabric aside. Cool air immediately hit your hot flesh as he exposed you fully. You were too weak to fight him off, at any other state you'd kick his ass for even looking at you like this, but his mere size compared to yours proved that was only a fantasy you could dream about. In a desperate attempt, you tried to cover yourself but his other hand slammed your wrist against the couch.

"Ah ah, keep 'em off to the sides" he warned. Out of fear, you forced your arms to relax, palms slapping against the old fabric. He squeezed your breast, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and pointer. Every touch sent electricity shooting through your body, a confusing mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. It made you sick.

"I'm not… I'm not…" you tried, words still thick and fuzzy.

"Shh, I know" he soothed, even as his fingers slipped under your waistband, tugging your pants and underwear down your thighs at once. The cargos clung to your legs, blood making them stiff. He didn't slow down even for a moment, quickly undressing you completely under his dark eyes. He looked like a wild animal panting over the sight of your bare pussy, a beast ready to sink his claws into its prey's skin.

He palmed your mound, rough fingers slipping between your unfortunately slick folds. You couldn't help but writhe at the foreign touch, a whimper catching in your throat. This was sickeningly wrong, you knew you didn't want this so why was your body betraying you?

Simon's hand quickly covered your mouth, muffling the pathetic sounds. "Be a good girl, now. Don't make me hurt you." he hisses, lifting his hand from your mouth only to seal his mouth over yours in a brutal kiss, tongue forcing its way past your lips. You whimpered against him, body going boneless as he worked you over. When he pulled back, his hand shifted, fingers circling your entrance. He pressed a single digit inside, stretching you open. The sudden intrusion had you clamping down, a choked sob escaping your throat.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, pumping his finger in and out of your hole a few times before adding another. He was Completely invading your insides while he scissors you open. Your body wanted to resist even as you felt the traitorous heat low in your belly. He worked you open until he could fit three thick fingers, stretching you around the digits. His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive bud. Broken cries and moans spilled past your lips as he fingered you ruthlessly, not letting up even while you let out shaky pleads. At least your leg doesn't hurt so badly anymore.

"That's it, cum on my fingers like a good slut," he growled, curling his fingers inside you and hitting a spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids, squealing as your back completely arched off the couch. "Can't wait to fill this tight little cunt."

Your protests died in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a brick, pleasure punishing you until you were sobbing. He worked you through it though, fucking it out of you with his fingers until you went limp. Only then did he pull out, wiping his digits on your thigh, coating you in your own cum. 

"Sleep now, sweetheart, those injuries won't heal on their own" he chuckled, a smug smirk settling on his lips. He adjusted your limp body on the couch, allowing you to lay down more comfortably before draping an old sherpa blanket over your trembling body, before quietly walking away back into the unknown depths of the cabin. Your eyes couldn't help but drift shut, the events of the day seemed to finally be catching up to you.

You didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

wc : 1.3k

a/n : sorry this literally took forever, I'll try my hardest to stay consistent with this but please let me know if you have any feedback, or comments

[ttheggrimrreaper]

You will never find peace

Barou Shoei x reader (NB)

Barou likes his things, and you happen to be his... With that in mind, that also means that anything on your body, connected to your body, or even has anything to do with you and your body, is his.

Suggestive under the cut!

This fic is inspired by @serotonins-stuff 's work (click the word 'work' for the exact post)

When I read it all I could think of was Barou, and then I had to re read it because I adored it. (Go follow them-)

You yelped as you fell forward, your right leg stinging with the pain of the slap he had placed on your butt. Hands holding you up as you looked over your shoulder at the so-called king of field. All you had done was drop your fucking keys, so what did you do? Pick them up of course. But instead of squatting done, you had bent over, which apparently.. according to your boyfriend, was an invitation to smack your ass as hard as he wished. "Seriously!?" You hissed through bared teeth as you turned to look at him.

Barou just shrugged, then crossed his arms as he smirked. "What can I say? I like that ass" his words made your cheeks red, And you would have probably responded with an equally suggestive comment if you weren't bothered right now. Sure, one time isn't a big deal... But this was never a one time thing. You bent down even minorly, you're left with a red mark. You lean over the balcony, It isn't long before you yelp in pain. Even when you're going up the stairs and he is behind you! It broke into a game of chase at some point, You sprinting up the stairs... However he claimed his price within of you trying to get away.

If you thought you were safe in public, you were wrong.

You had gone to some stupid part his friends had invited him too. Really it wasn't a stupid party, but it was pissing you off that Barou was busy talking to the others there. Sure he still was with you, but you were still feeling a little lonely. It was when a person dropped their wallet Infront of you, that his attention returned to you.

"don't worry, I got it." You said as you bent over, not wanting to squat as you were in a dress. It was when you heard the signature chuckle from him, suddenly stopping in his speech. Lifting his open palm, and just as you would assume he would swing it forward, you bent your knees. His finger tips just graze over your back. The sly smirk he had on just before, had transferred to you, as you handed the person their wallet. Barou didn't comment, but you could feel how annoyed he was.

For the rest of the party he was a little more irritable. And to put salt onto the wound you never had your back to him., never gave him a chance. Returning home that night, you had relaxed. Pleased with how the night went and forgetting all about your earlier irritation. So you let your guard down... The biggest mistake of your life.

Barou, instead of letting up, was hyper alert of how you were postured. His ego took a blow today, and would just not do. Because the next time he gets a chance, He's not going to miss. Locking the door behind him, turning around he didn't chuckle. Just smiled as you bent over to undo the heel strap.

"now I am gonna be cruel when I do this" That was your warning.. that was in vain. Because before you could react you felt the sharp sting of his hand coming down on your ass. You stumbled forward before standing up.

"OW! Did you have to do it that hard!?" You spin around facing him, but Barou just wrapped his arms around your waist.

"sweetheart, You can't wear pretty dresses like that and not expect me to touch" he hummed, one of his hands already making it way down to touch your sore ass again.

[icadump]

Seer Damian wayne

Damian wayne is cursed by magic from his mother's bloodline, cursing him with the ability to see the past, present, and future. The only problem is that nobody in the league of assassin's see it and thinks he's just some weird kid with a disorder and love for animals, insects and quiet places. Something his mother and grandfather despise, sending him to his father at the age of 10.

Okay so, this is inspired by heleana targaryen from house of the dragons, somehow I just feel for her and I want to see a prompt or fic of Damian just being this quiet, peaceful and autistic kid that just wants to spend time with his pets and nothing else, i also wanna headcannon an albino! Damian to give him that white hair and violet eyes. Someone please write a fic or prompt or just reblog my post I'm begging you

Damian wayne was released from his pod quietly, we're it not for the monitor observing his heartbeat Talia would've thought he was dead. He was a quiet kid that rarely spoke, his first word being 'dog', not the 'mama' or other words the league expected of him. Nonetheless he excelled in everything Talia arranged for him to learn, something Ra's expected due to Batman's genes.

What wasn't expected was for damian to be an albino due to genes that they weren't sure where it came from, nonetheless, he looked like an ethereal god to the point he wasn't allowed to go into the city near nanda parbat due to it's citizens worshipping Damian, his temperature didn't help either as he rarely spoke and when he did, the people hung on his every word.

Talia was worried for him back then, her son did not want to kill, and even when he did so he always hesitated. His talent, appearance, and brain were the only thing that saved him for being executed by Ra's, though his exotic appearance garnered him several looks from many of ra's business partners. More so when it only worsened when Damian aged.

Talia knew it was time to take her son to his father when even her father looked at Damian in that cold, calculating way that told her he was planning something that involved her son's purity, though she loathe to admit that his innocence he retained throughout his childhood only made him more endearing in her eyes.

She planned and waited for the right time, when Ra's was away on business and ordered her assassin's to guard and protect them while she and her son escaped. Quickly entering damian's bedroom flanked by her loyal assassin's to wake him up, she was shocked to see he was awake and his belongings were already packed.

Damian stood and grabbed his pet, a huge Arabian leopard gifted by Talia to him when he was a child, and let the other assassin's grab his other luggage including the cage of his black scorpion and eastern imperial eagle, something Ra's apparently bred specifically for him (Talia was sure her father had ulterior motives in doing so and knew now what it was when she saw his eyes leering at his own grandson). Hurrying to leave the compound and board the plane, they left at the fastest speed the plane could fly at.

Damian watched them all with dazed eyes as he subconsciously pet his leopard. Looking confused at his mother, this was the first time he'd seen Talia look frazzled and almost nervous although he expected it, he was still feeling somewhat confused and sad at leaving his home. But damian knew he'd find family with his father and even love, his mind drifted off to a kryptonian he remembered seeing in his dreams, sitting with him and doing something else he couldn't see.

[alexandraisyes]

Peachy, my beloved, you missed so many.

First off, Eclipse Observers. This is my son. The guy everyone claims I am in disguise, that fucker. Fans of him want him to die again, want him to get a happy ending, or just like tearing into him because he's pathetic as fuck. So many "I always come back" jokes, and people like to take him and both put him in a blender and make him the blender.

Moon Cheesers. This is my other son. I will hear no slander against him. The name is because the moon is made out of cheese. Jokes on you if you believe that though because that's just a conspiracy theory and everyone knows the moon isn't even real. Most of us want him to get worse. Mostly so we can say we were right. Some of us are glad he's forming connections and somewhat learning how to function in a family unit without purely relying on Sun. For other's it's a mix of both, with apprehension that he's just going to start slipping back to how we met him, scared, paranoid, and lashing out at the only person he cared about because he didn't have a support system. Him and Sun were really bad for each other and a lot of fans of him love to exploit that in fics and fanworks.

Earth Lovers. These people are either down fucking bad for her, trying to justify her relationship with Monty, defending her rights to be respected as a woman, or trying to kill Monty and shipping her with literally every single character but Monty. I have seen some fun pairings for her. These people care the most about female representation and respect in this fandom and would rather eat a shoe than disrespect a woman. A lot of her newer fans have also found solace in disability representation in her.

Dazzle Holders. Hold gently like hamburber. Some of these guys just like child death let's be real (we are in the fandom that is a smaller fandom of the child death fandom so this is to be expected). Most of them just want her to be happy, safe and loved by her dad and all her aunts/uncles. She is an angel and saying otherwise is social death no matter what part of the fandom you're in.

Ruin Connesiuers. You either love or hate him and there's no in-between. A lot of his newer fans sympathize with his trauma and the fact that he did bad things in order to protect himself (woah who could have seen that coming -> has been screaming this from the rooftops since March). Older fans consider that to be a cherry on top and just like the fucked up lil guy. Ruin fans and Nexus fans have beef over who's worse. Dunno why they're both fucked up little guys in a youtube show but pop off chat.

Monty. . . Watchers. These people tend to enjoy really crude humor even if it doesn't fit the rhythm of the show and aren't able to understand, or maybe they just enjoy, how toxic all of his relationships tend to be. People who enjoy him past that tend to enjoy having a "good guy" in the show that's kind of a piece of shit 80% of the time and isn't someone that you can easily side behind without putting in the work into themselves. Also, they're so gender and gay for their wife; joy and whimsy on the planet Urath.

Foxy's Crew. People who love Foxy tend to be grouped with FC fans. He's the dad ever. He's also a semi-realistic take of a first-time parent in stressful situations trying to do the best he can. Again, the dad ever. He's a wet rat of a man and he is doing the best he can, and we love him for that.

Puppet Poppets. You know what she's a femme fatale, let her cook. She's tragic and a lot of people who really understand her character understand how it feels to have your childhood stripped away from you and be expected to handle responsibilities you weren't ready for. Her fanbase is kinda tragic like that. She makes mistakes and she's annoying and she's perfect actually, 10/10 stars, thank you Matt for giving us this wet mop of a woman. She's also gender so bonus points, 11/10 stars.

Astral Jury. Yeah that's right y'all are a fucking jury. (I'm on it too it's fine). It varies between "they're so pretty ough" and "I love how fucked up this is from the perspective of a human let them cook." People put them in situations a lot. We need more astral ships so like slay ig.

Cre-Daters. Why do you exist but also can you please come invade my inbox with why you like this fucking BRAIN. Some cre-daters mostly just like Sven. Other's like the brain. And the smart ones like Nao. I mean what, who said that. Trashcan man is grouped in here, that's his husband. Anyways moving on.

Solar Flare Protectors. THIS IS MY SON. AND HE IS PERFECT. I MISS HIM. I know like 3 people who love him enough to be considered a fan, including myself. The other two are @jackobbit and @deadbloodzero

Stitchwraith Babysitters. This is just @kenmarlenn. There are others but. This is just Ken.

I rest my case.

something I find funny is that within the tsams fandom, there are also little subdivisions of the tsams fandom.

there's the Lunar Freaks (I say 'Freaks' with much love). they simp for Lunar like no other and will defend him with their lives. they also like making him kiss as many astral beings as possible.

there's the Solar Enjoyers- who can commonly be found with the Jack Lovers. they're like a package deal. the Solar enjoyers simp over him and are prone to ignore his flaws (which like. fair tbh, joy and whimsy), and the Jack lovers just miss their boy.

the Bloodmoon Fiends are just over in the corner punching the walls and trying to escape their straight jackets, maybe biting on some raw meat too idk

the Sun Cult are spinning in a giant circle, half of them cheering and whooping for more angst while the rest of them are sobbing their fcuking eyes out

and. as a member of the Nexus Fanclub. I can just say there's like me and 9 other people here, we all see each other in the tags and wave at each other all the time, and we see you other cliques and point and laugh cause imagine having to worry about if your fave is gonna die or not lol (Note: the Bloodmoon Fiends are excluded from this)

[lazy-anxietyinfectedzombie]

I think you should know that every time you update your drabbles on AO3 somebody alerts everyone in the Divine Discord server like a town crier and we all go “HURRAH!!”

You’re basically a celebrity, I love you please don’t blow up 🙏

One day you take on a fandom you know only by a single movie everyone apparently hates and the next you are vomiting fics for said fandom and learning all kinds of details along the way, always blows my mind to see how much people enjoy my admittedly sometimes wild and flat out random ideas. When I first started writing I didn't even know Billy and Mary were supposed to be twins or who Tawny was or even HOW was Billy's boss called (Mr. Morris), I just threw anything that came to mind without expecting actual feedback. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to blow up as it did

Very grateful for all the support and positive feedback from my readers ⚡🌟🐅⚡🌟🐅 Gonna keep that screenshot if you don't mind, haven't been this popular since the day I was born

[jayhyunglover]

sneak peak into my new Caleb fic because I am losing will to finish it

warnings : smut under cut so MDNI , oral sex , slight exhibitionism

"What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers of your question but it didn't.  No one did . 

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb 

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way out of it to care. 

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind. 

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him snap , his voice barely able to contain his anger. 

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive 

“I didn't take her anywhere” you said,  your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him 

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless 

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly at him before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching 

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that burned inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne 

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you waked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck 

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?” 

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process . 

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed,  his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier . 

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants. 

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier flashed through your mind strengthened it further . 

Don't get caught up in illusions.  This man wasn't yours.  

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his,  all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to left you . 

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor,  his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy ,depraved and desperate.  

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from  yours to trail kisses down on your neck,  his hands nothing but tearing  your uniform shirt to shreds . 

Your hand reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie. 

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted,  cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple  eyes making your cunt throb harder. 

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. 

How you wished you could be his but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pit of hell. 

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists. 

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs  bare for him to admire 

How he has missed this view . 

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe,  the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises 

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved  thumb along your covered slit “so wet for me already” 

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . He was so close but so far away at the same time, it drove you wild. 

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading  eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch 

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back 

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear. 

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably felt pathetic for baring your soul to him  like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.  

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were  no longer aching and panting from him . 

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings,  the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving. 

He was merciless,  the relentless pace making you squeal.  

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned,  not even ashamed of the sounds you were making.  His tongue rolled  over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

And when you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form. 

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned,  your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants  

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see. 

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?” 

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up . 

Shit shit shit why is here ? 

You looked down at Caleb who  was already back to work , his fingers pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts 

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless. 

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess. 

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming here and there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would  focus on responding Ash. 

But that only made you more restless and frustrated . 

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen . 

Handsome bastard. 

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said ,  the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ear. 

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up . your stomach curled into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue 

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment 

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy . 

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol. 

“I am fine truly” you attempted to spoke again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circle around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy” 

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted . 

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around then Lieutenant” 

Yeah you'll see her around now go . 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of  Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man buried nose deep between your thighs. 

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height . 

@gazelover666

[tales-from-drama-school]

I HAVE BEEN WAITING WEEKS TO POST THIS

But punko made us promise not to spoil, so I didn't

I present to you...the keys family portrait!!! More content under the cut <3

I know ex libris wouldn't have anything like this but it's kind of fun to imagine if they did. Like look at them

They're sitting on bookmarks

Back: Ambrose, Bronze, Cerulean, Goldie, Nox, Garnet, Sparaxis

Front: Platinum, Ivy, Silver, Violet, Greywen

(from left to right btw)

My story roles are roughly based on Carl Jung's theory of the 12 story archetypes. I know I'm going to have to redraw this at some point when we meet the rest of the keys bc Punko will do it differently but that's a later me problem

Of course we have our faves, Goldie, Bronze and Silver. Who are the Hero, helper and heroine respectively

In the archetypes, Hero is self explanatory, but Helper is equivalent to the 'caregiver' role, and the 'Heroine' is just an aspect of the hero. But I think the 'Heroine' role could replace the 'everyman' role. So there's that.

NOX AND VIOLET EVERYBODY!!!!!

I actually think Nox suits him so well, although I still think of him as Buddy most of the time

The 'villain' and 'villainess' don't really exist in the archetypes, although there is a role called the 'outlaw', which I expect would kind of be an antagonist. But because of what we know of them so far, Nox (Buddy) replaces the 'explorer'. Not that this is very important

Sorry the picture turned out so big!!! This is Cerulean. I invented him for my fic Darcy Forenski and the Summer She Was a Wizard and he's the mentor key, which is the 'sage' role. They're the same thing. It's why he has a beard :D

This is Garnet, the ruler key. We've seen an arm of a red key in the episode 'dreams by day', so I just drew the rest of him lol

This is Sparaxis, the trickster key. In Cinderella boy, there's a 'thief' key that's mentioned, and in the 12 story roles there's a 'jester' key. Because Buddy (Nox) was the black colour I kind of ran out of ideas to make them look more like a thief, so I just made them a trickster with a jester hat.

Also the name sparaxis comes from an orange-coloured flower

This is Greywen, the creator/inventor key. What role does this allow you to access? Mad scientist. Artists. People that set the plot in motion. (she kind of ended up looking a little bit like prunella. Oops)

This is Ivy, the magician key. I did not draw her very well. But we also saw her in 'Dreams by day' in Silver's dream, and I thought the wings fit well with the magic idea.

This is Ambrose, the lover key. I know, I know! Its been said that there is no 'love interest' key, but that doesn't mean there can't be a 'lover' key. I mean, I guess he could be the thief key but that would just make him Hermes

Like, the literal greek god

anyway

Last, but certainly not least, we have Platinum. The innocent/the shadow.

This role is kind of hard to explain because in the 12 roles theory there's a role called the 'innocent', which is like the doomed innocent. The things that are good in the world. But there are a lot of roles that don't quite fit if you put all 12 keys in a story, and also because the keys are people I don't think she would be this perfect little girl all the time, even though she might look it. That's why I called her the shadow. I think this one is the least likely to be part of canon but it's what made the most sense to me

Anyway have some extra drawings of cerulean because he's my boy and I love him

[otherone12]

hi !!! could you write a gerard way x male reader where gerard is a vampire and the reader is vampire obsessed, begging him and asking him to feed off of the reader and he eventually gives in, and while gerard feeds mayb the reader give shim a handjob and it turns into smut where they fuck supa hard ?? mostly suggesting a blood kink fic lolol :3c

Drink Me Hot, Like A Liqueur

(this is a line from a brazilian song: "Doce Vampiro" by Rita Lee)

Vampire!Gerard Way x Male!Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Heyy!! Damn i disappeared again... sorry, guys X-X ... First of all, i want to say that i've never wrote a male reader fic (cause i'm a cis woman), so, i'm sorry if i did something wrong or weird. I tryed my best to make this good, even did a research, reading my frind's favorite fic (A "Larry Stylinson" one... yeah i like 1D too).. so, hope u like it! <3 (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

Next fic: Bullets!Ray Toro x Reader (smut)

Summary: You met Gerard in college, and from the start he caught your attention because of his dark ways. So you decided to follow him, he was exactly what you expected him to be.

- Word Count: 5.100

- Warnings: SMUT! Blood Kink, handjob

> IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF CONTENT, DON'T READ!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

- Ps: I didn't go into as much detail about SMUT physically, because I was a bit insecure about writing something too weird, but even so, I don't think it was too bad.

- Ps2: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps3: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

I wasn’t supposed to be here. But when I noticed I was following Gerard down the street, in the middle of the night, like some kind of creep. 

But I couldn’t help myself. He was always so… mysterious. He avoided people like the plague, rarely spoke in class, and when he did, his voice carried a weight that didn’t match his age, always hiding in the shadows with his oversized hoodie wrapped around his too pale body, even on sunny and hot days. I dare to say mostly when the day was sunny. 

And then there were the other things. The things I couldn’t ignore. He never ate during class. Not once. His participation was minimal, but when he spoke, it was like stepping into a different era.

 I’ll never forget the time we discussed Victorian art, and he explained it with such confidence, such intimacy, that it felt like he’d been there, standing in the streets of 19th-century London.

Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I’d let my imagination run wild. But there was something about Gerard Way that didn’t quite fit into the world I knew. Something… unnatural.

Vampires.

The thought had been gnawing at me for weeks. Ever since I stumbled across him one night, walking alone under the moonlight, his pale face illuminated just enough to catch that eerie, otherworldly glow in his eyes. I’ve been obsessed with vampires for as long as I can remember, their myths, their stories, their allure. And Gerard gave me that same intoxicating pull, the same thrill that made my stomach twist in both fear and fascination.

Theoretically, I am supposed to know vampires aren’t real, but what if they are? What if he was one of them? I just needed to know. 

That’s why I was here now, watching him like some amateur detective. For weeks, I’d been studying him, piecing together the little things: his long walks late at night, his strange habits, the way he seemed to disappear without a trace. He fascinated me in ways I couldn’t explain, and tonight, I’d finally decided to follow him.

Gerard walked with purpose, his hood pulled low, his figure blending into the shadows. The street was deserted, the only sound the occasional hum of distant traffic. My breath hitched as he turned down a dead-end alley, his steps silent on the cracked pavement.

And that’s when I saw him.

A stranger. A man I’d never seen before, lingering at the end of the alley. There was something off about him too—something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His posture was too relaxed, like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

Gerard slowed, his shoulders tensing as if he didn’t know the man either. My pulse quickened, and I leaned forward, desperate to see what would happen next, forgetting for a moment how exposed I was.

It happened so quickly that I almost missed it. One moment, they were just standing there; the next, Gerard had the stranger pressed against the wall, his hand fisted in the man’s collar. There was no struggle, no sound of protest… just the low hum of something that felt far too intimate to be violence.

I craned my neck, trying to see better, and that’s when I caught the glint of sharp teeth as Gerard’s lips parted, his head tilting slightly to the side before he sank them into the man’s neck.

My stomach flipped, my brain screaming at me to look away, but I couldn’t. 

I was rooted to the spot, watching as his jaw worked against the man’s throat, his hands holding the stranger still with inhuman ease. The man’s head lolled back, his eyes fluttering shut, not in pain, but in something that looked dangerously close to pleasure.

I felt my breath hitch, the sound escaping me before I could stop it… a small, sharp gasp that echoed far too loudly in the quiet alley.

Gerard froze.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his mouth smeared with crimson. His tongue darted out, quick and sharp, to catch the blood lingering on his lips, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

- Oh,- he said, his voice soft but dripping with amusement. - I didn’t know I had an audience.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I tried to step back, to disappear into the shadows, but my feet wouldn’t move.

- You’ve been following me, haven’t you? - Gerard continued, his tone almost teasing.

- I… - My throat was dry, my words stuck somewhere between fear and something else entirely.

Gerard stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His movements were unhurried, almost predatory, as if he enjoyed the way I was frozen in place.

- Should I be flattered? - he asked, his head tilting slightly as his eyes raked over me. - Or should I be concerned?

- I- I wasn’t-  I started, but the lie died on my tongue when Gerard raised an eyebrow, his lips forming a faint smirk.

- You weren’t what? - he interrupted, his voice low and smooth. - You weren’t stalking me? Watching me? Or...you weren’t enjoying it?”

He stepped closer still, his gaze flicking down to my throat. My cheeks burned. Was I enjoying it? My body betrayed me, heat pooling in places I didn’t want to think about as the image of him biting that stranger replayed in my mind.

- You’re quiet, - Gerard said, his smirk widening. - I thought I was the quiet one here…

- “I… - I managed to choke out, though I had no idea what I was about to say.

He laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. 

- Relax, - he said, his tone lighter now, though his gaze still held that unsettling intensity. - If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already.

I took a deep breath. The words slipped out before I could stop them. I blushed harder, regretting it instantly, but I couldn’t take it back.

- But… What if I wanted you to? - I wasn’t unsure, but my nervousness was too clear - I-i mean… you could bite me… 

Gerard’s expression got more serious, as he shook his head and stepped close to me.

- No way. - he replied, his voice firm - I don’t do this… 

- Why? -  I asked before I could stop myself. I sound more confident then i was  - You already did with that guy…

- It’s not that easy, man… - Gerard’s eyes darkened, his posture suddenly more rigid. He took a step back, studying me closely. - I don’t bite people I know.

- C’mon, Gerard I-

- Enough! - he snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the air. His eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, I could see a flash of something dangerous behind his calm facade.  - I won't bite you. End of conversation. See you at college.

His words hung in the air, final, unyielding. But there was something in the way he said it, a tension in his voice that told me he wasn’t entirely unaffected by our exchange.

I stood there, frozen, watching him turn away. My heart was still racing, my mind whirling with questions, but I didn’t have the courage to say anything more. As much as I wanted him to… I could feel that invisible line between us, one I wasn’t sure I could cross.

Gerard’s footsteps faded into the night, and I was left standing there, breathless, my body still humming with the heat of the encounter.

*** Time Skip ***

Next day at the college I couldn't shake the memory of last night. How Gerard bit that guy, how he moved so smoothly, how his black hair fell on his face, the way his hazel eyes caught the moonlight… Then there was his voice… I could hear it all day. 

I kept replaying the way he’d caught me watching him, that teasing smirk, the brief but overwhelming rush of heat I felt when he’d gotten too close.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I sat in the corner of the lecture hall, trying to focus on the professor’s words, but my mind kept drifting back to Gerard. I kept telling myself I should let it go, that it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone like this, but… I couldn’t help it. There was something about him that felt so… magnetic.

I caught a glimpse of him at the back of the room, as usual, sitting alone with his head down, eyes focused on whatever he was sketching in the margins of his notebook. There were always empty seats around him, like people instinctively knew to stay away. Gerard wasn’t the type to invite conversation, to make friends, and maybe that was part of why I felt drawn to him.

Maybe it was the mystery of it all.

Maybe it was the fact that he was different, detached from the world in a way that made me want to understand him, want to pull him closer.

The lecture dragged on, but my eyes kept straying toward Gerard. Eventually, I couldn’t resist anymore. My heart pounding in my chest, I stood up, grabbing my bag, and made my way to the back of the room

- hey…- I tried, but he didn’t bother to look up. - Gerard?

He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable, but I could feel his annoyance.

- So… - I started again - I was thinking about last night and- 

- Don’t. - His sharp tone cut me off 

- Please…. I-I still want you to… - I bit my lip, trying to not sound nervous… - I mean you could feed from me. If you want.

There. I said it. And the moment the words left my lips, my heart rate picked up again, my palms growing sweaty.

Gerard’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he sighed, shaking his head.

- No, - he said simply, his voice flat. - I told you before. I don’t do that.

- Why? - I asked before I could stop myself. My curiosity was eating at me. - I mean, you did it with that guy… What’s the difference?

Gerard leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. 

- There’s a difference, alright, - he said, his voice barely above a whisper. - It’s not something I just do with people who ask.

I could feel my pulse quicken, and the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think better of it. 

- But what if I wanted you to?-  I asked, a part of me desperate, a part of me trembling from the intensity of this conversation.

Gerard looked at me, his gaze intense and unreadable. There was a long pause before he spoke, his tone low and cold.

- Maybe that’s the problem,- he said, his voice almost distant. - You want something you don’t understand, and I’m not someone you can just get close to, and ask something like that, understand?

I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of frustration and something else… something darker. Is that what this was? Was it all just me being obsessed with something I couldn’t have?

But then… I caught myself. I was staring at him again, lost in his eyes, noticing the subtle curve of his jaw, the sharp lines of his face, and the way his lips pressed into a thin line.

God, he was so fucking attractive.

I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been drawn to him until now, the way my body responded to his presence.

Gerard shifted in his seat, sensing the change in the air. He glanced down at his hands, avoiding eye contact for a moment before speaking again, his tone quieter this time.

I stared at him, my mouth dry, the words I wanted to say swirling in my head but never quite making it past my lips. I stood there, caught in the weight of the moment. Gerard’s gaze flicked back up to mine briefly, as if he could sense the inner conflict swirling inside me. Then, without another word, he stood up and walked past me, brushing against my arm as he went.

- See you around, - he said softly, and I could hear the finality in his voice.

I watched him go, a mix of disappointment and longing simmering inside me. What was I doing? Why was I letting this obsession take control of me? But even as I tried to make sense of it, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the pull I felt every time I was near him.

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was something deeper. Something dangerous.

*** Time Skip **

I wasn’t about to give up… the days dragged on, but I couldn’t stop trying. Every chance I got, I found myself pushing the subject with Gerard, even if I knew it would only get me a frustrated glare or an annoyed sigh. I didn’t care. I had to try.

- Gerard… - I whispered one evening after class, catching up to him in the hallway. He didn’t even glance at me, his pace quickening as he walked toward the door. I almost ran to keep up with him. - Please. Just once. You don’t even have to… just bite me. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

He didn’t stop walking, but his lip curled into a tight, unreadable line. 

- Damn! I’ve already said no.

- But-

- No.

*** Time Skip ***

Again, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and how I wanted him to sink his teeth on my neck.

He froze when he saw me standing there, waiting, the same determined look in my eyes.

- Gerard, please… You know I won’t say anything. You can trust me, - I begged, my voice breaking a little, my hands shaking as I reached out to him. - I want it. I want you to feed from me. Just… just once. Let me feel what it’s like. Please.

Gerard’s face didn’t change. He just stared at me with those cold, emotionless eyes. 

- I said no! I don’t bite people I know. - He sighed -  Especially not you.

I flinched at his words, but I couldn’t stop myself. 

- Please… - The word came out in a desperate whisper. - Please, Gerard. I need this.

He turned away without another word, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. He was fighting something, and I knew it was just as much a battle for him as it was for me.

*** Time Skip ***

It had been weeks of nothing but rejection, each plea falling on deaf ears. But today, something was different.

I saw Gerard in the hallway after class, and as usual, I tried to push it again, my voice shaky but determined. 

- Gerard… please. Just once. -  - You don’t have to worry about anything, I promise-

Before I could finish, he stopped walking, turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, that sent a thrill down my spine.

- You know what? Fine,- he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. - Meet me at my apartment tonight. You know where I live, right? Since you already stalked me.

I froze. My heart hammered in my chest, the rush of adrenaline nearly overwhelming. For a moment, I thought I misheard him. 

- What?!

- You heard me. - Gerard’s voice was firm, but there was something softer beneath the command. It was as if he was giving in to something he didn’t want to admit to himself. - But if we’re doing this, it’s on my terms.

The words hung in the air, and my mind raced, a million questions swirling around. But I knew I didn’t need to ask. I nodded, my throat tight. 

- I’ll be there.

*** Time Skip ***

Later that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation, of nerves and hunger gnawing at me. I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about, the possibility of what was going to happen, or the fact that this moment had been building for so long, and now it was finally here.

I knocked on his door just past midnight. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him to answer. When the door opened, there he stood, his usual dark, mysterious aura more intense than ever. His eyes flicked over me, and for a brief second, I saw a flash of something, something hungry in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped aside, silently motioning for me to come in.

It was just the two of us now, and everything else felt far away.

Gerard didn’t waste any time. He took a step forward, his hands gently gripping my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine. His breath was shallow, his usual calm demeanor slipping for just a moment.

- You know that there’s no turning back now, right? - He warned. 

As I felt his teeth sinking on my neck, his warm breath reached my skin seconds before the sharp pain took over me. I instinctively placed my hands on his hips.

My gasp turned into a moan when I felt my blood leaving my veins. His soft lips sent shivers down my spine, that bite felt almost like a kiss, and I melted into it. 

His hand on my shoulder while the other was firmly placed in my waist. The faint scent of cigarettes clinging to his hair made my head spin. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed for a moment.

He was obviously taking his time, the warmth of his body pressing into mine. His thigh brushed against me, and before I realized it, heat was pooling low in my stomach, an unmistakable ache growing between my legs. 

He was too close, and didn’t take too long for me to feel his hardness pressed against my thigh.

With trembling hands, still  feeling he sucking the warmth of my body, I reached the waistband of his jeans, moving my fingers to unbutton them. Soon, I touched him above his boxers, and received a groan in response, his mouth still on my neck. 

I could feel my own blood dripping down my neck and reaching my shirt, leaving a stain on my shirt.

As I pulled down his boxers just enough to reach his cock, I heard a low moan escaping from his lips, it was enough for me to know that he wanted me to keep going. 

I wanted to hate the situation, I wanted to not claim to give myself to him, but I couldn't. My hand took his length and he groaned softly, his lips still against my neck, his teeth stuck on my skin. 

I couldn’t stop myself, I wanted to hear him make that noise again.

My grip tightened, and I began to move my hand slowly, testing his reaction. His hips shifted forward, chasing the friction, his breath hitching against my skin.

The world around me blurred, the only thing grounding me was him, his heat, his weight, the soft, desperate sounds he made as I touched him.

I felt his teeth leave my neck, but before I could fully process the loss, his tongue followed, warm and deliberate. He licked up the blood, but instead of cleaning it, he smeared it across my jawline. The wet warmth of it sent a thrill through me, and my legs almost buckled when he kissed the trail he’d made.

His hands tightened on my waist, his nails digging into my skin. His sharp fangs scratched along my jaw, deliberate and teasing, as he pressed soft kisses there.

Then he reached my ear, his breath hot and uneven as he spoke.

- You wanted this for too long, didn't you? - he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and hunger.

Heat flooded my face, shame and desire tangling in my chest. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead, I moved my hand more firmly, drawing another groan from him.

- Keep going, - he whispered, his voice a rasp against my skin. - If you stop, I’ll drink every single drop of blood off your fucking body.

I shivered at his command, my body responding before my mind could catch up. Every part of him, his voice, his touch, the way he tasted me, made it impossible to resist. And deep down, I didn’t want to.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as he leaned in to capture my lips. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted it, needed it, until he did. The metallic tang of my own blood lingered on his tongue, blending with the heat of the kiss as our mouths moved together, deliberate and unhurried, but full of something I couldn’t name

Before I could even process the moment, Gerard pushed me back onto the bed behind us, pinning me there with a firm grip on my hips. His weight pressed into me, grounding me, and I could feel the tension in his body as his mouth found mine again. There was no hesitation this time, only raw hunger, as his lips claimed mine, his fingers digging into my skin like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I couldn’t even process his words, and his hands reached to the hem  of my shirt, and I adjusted my position to help him take that off. Once it was off, he stepped back to admire my body, which still had a trail of blood running to my stomach. His eyes darkened and I felt the hungry on them. 

- So pretty - He muttered under his breath. sanding a shiver down my spine.

He approached me, removing his shirt too. His pale body, even if he wasn’t worked out, was driving me insane and I didn’t know I could get even harder than I already was. He was chubby but in the most sexy way possible… When he got close enough for me to reach for him, my hands moved to remove his pants, which were already unbuttoned. But then his lips shocked mine.  

- Eager, aren’t you? - His voice was low, teasing, the words vibrating against my lips.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My pulse was pounding too loudly in my ears.

- Cat got your tongue? - he whispered, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to make me shiver. - You were so vocal earlier… What happened?

I swallowed hard, feeling my face flush as I tried to form words. 

- I just-

He laughed softly, cutting me off as his lips brushed against the corner of my mouth.

- Relax, - he murmured, his voice smooth but commanding. - We’re just getting started.

He didn’t give me time to respond. His hands moved lower, skimming over my waist and pulling me closer until our bodies were flush. The coolness of his skin sent a shock through me, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in my body.

- You’ve been begging for this,- he murmured against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. - Let me hear it.

I swallowed, my voice coming out hoarse.

- I want you. Please.

That was all it took. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, and I felt his hand move down my chest, tracing the trail of blood that still lingered there. His touch was both gentle and possessive, like he was savoring every inch of me.

His body pressed me further into the mattress, and I let out a soft gasp when his thigh slid between mine, applying just enough pressure to make me arch into him. He smirked against my lips, clearly reveling in my reaction.

- You’re mine tonight,- he growled, his voice low and full of promise. - But you’ll have to keep up.

Without warning, his hands hooked under my thighs, pulling me further up the bed. His strength caught me off guard, and I could feel the primal hunger in the way he touched me… like he was holding himself back, barely.

Then, faster than I realized, his hands traced a line to the waistband of my pants and boxers, removing them at the same time, revealing my hardness. 

A malicious smirk appeared on his face, and he leaned over me again, kissing my neck and taking a loud moan from my lips. 

Gerard backed off a bit, enough for removing his own clothes, since i was laid on the bed, too dazed to make any move, i just could watch and admire his pretty body. Damn he was bigger than I was expecting.

- Are you sure you can handle it? - A mischievous grin formed in his lips and his voice was teasing.

Honestly? I wasn’t sure, but, fuck, how i wanted. I nodded desperately.

- Y-yeah… - I manage to say - I can.

- Let's test the theory…

With an abrupt move he turned me around, he was so strong. He pressed me against the mattress and the pain on my erection was so pleasant… I whimper, feeling his body leaning on mine. His hand in my back, pressing me even further.

- Are you gonna be a good boy and be all fours for me? - I heard the smile on his face, his voice low, and I shivered under his touch.

My body trembled under his touch, my heart racing. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, but I needed him to keep going.

I hesitated for a moment, but the weight of Gerard pressing down on me left me no room to think. My body was already responding to him, aching for more.

- Come on, be a good boy… - Gerard’s voice was an almost seductive whisper, sending a shiver through me. The tone, though commanding, was laced with that playful tease that made everything he said feel like a challenge.

I barely had a second to process what was happening before I found myself on my hands and knees, Gerard’s hands guiding me into position. His breath was hot against the back of my neck, his fangs screeching my skin, and the way he loomed over me made my entire body pulse with want. He wasn’t gentle, his touch was insistent, like he was claiming every inch of me.

- That’s it, just like that… - His words were barely a rasp, but they dripped with anticipation. I could feel the heat radiating off of him as he settled behind me, the sound of his breathing just as ragged as mine.

I was still trying to gather my bearings when I felt the press of his cock against me, hot and heavy. It was almost too much, the way my body instinctively arched back toward him, desperate for more. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and I couldn’t think straight anymore.

- You’re so fucking ready for this, aren’t you? - Gerard’s voice came low and dark, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he positioned himself. - I knew you wanted this.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, but the way my body reacted was all the answer he needed. I nodded, desperate for him to take me, to claim me completely. I could feel my pulse quicken as I felt the head of his cock push against me, and the sensation was so fucking overwhelming I thought I might lose my mind.

Gerard’s grip tightened, and with a forceful thrust, he entered me, the stretch and burn overwhelming but welcome. I gasped, my body instantly reacting, tightening around him as he filled me. It was rough, fast, and completely consuming, just as I had imagined it would be.

His voice, strained and full of hunger, reached my ears again. 

- You feel so good… so fucking tight around me - He punctuated his words with another harsh thrust, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.

He moved himself and I couldn't hold back the noisings coming out of my mouth, he wasn’t too silent too, he groaned with every thrust. I felt my body tensing, my pulse pounding, and it was almost as if the blood inside me was thumping in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. His words, his hands on my body, his grip tightening… everything about him was claiming me, making me feel like I was his. And with one final, deep thrust, I felt like I was about to explode.

The world shifted as he came inside me. Fuck, I was his.

The force of it sent a shockwave through my body. My own release followed almost instantly, the sensation blurring the line between pleasure and something darker. I couldn't think straight, couldn’t remember what was mine and what was his anymore.

When it was over, I felt like I had been shattered into a thousand pieces, but still, there was this lingering ache, an ache that wasn’t just from the intensity of what just happened but something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Gerard pulled out slowly, his breath heavy, his body still vibrating from the pleasure. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned down to kiss me gently, his lips soft against my blood-slick skin.

- Gerard… - I said, breathless

- yeah? - He looked exhausted, but he raised his eyebrow with his teasing smile.

- Feel free to feed from me whenever you want. - I wasn’t joking… but I couldn't say how serious I was.

I rested my head on his shoulder.

- Bet on it. 

___________________________________________

~ So... That's it! hope u like it! <3

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