#only to fall for a walking life violation

[serpentinewriting]

AND I HIT IT LIKE IT'S ALL MINE

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━

Where Sephiroth can't resist the siren in Shinra's labs.

INCLUDES : Monsterfucking, siren!reader, monsterfucker!sephiroth, possible ooc sephiroth, implied loss of virginity, slight dub-con (Sephi passes out for a moment), top male reader, bottom sephiroth

NOTES : i had to google if dead fish sink for this. also oiled up sephi is NOT safe from me.

~2,800 words

━━━━━━━━━ 𓆗 ━━━━━━━━━

Sephiroth has seen you once before.

It was only a glimpse. He barely managed to make out your figure.

Your silhouette loomed over the rest of Hojo's lab, a void in the luminous blue water of your tank, like a statue watching over the room.

He froze when he saw you, mesmerised by just your featureless outline, yet Hojo had dragged him away after only a moment.

Ever since, he's felt urged to return to you - as if you're calling his name on a wavelength that he cannot hear but only feel.

You take over his mind every night, occupying his thoughts before he falls asleep and haunting his dreams. He imagines what you might look like. You could be hideous and will tear him to shreds as he stands in fear. Or perhaps you're something divine, something that will lure him in before sinking your sharp teeth into his unmarked neck...

He knows what your life is likely to be. He knows that Hojo will be carrying out wicked experiments on you each day, violating and damaging you. He curses that stupid man and has contemplated multiple times whether he should simply barge into the lab and set you free.

He knows he shouldn't. He knows Hojo would try and kill him for it. He knows that after himself, you're probably the scientist's most precious creature.

But that just convinces him even more. He pleasures himself every night to the thought of Hojo's greatest experiments fucking like wild animals - the thought of Shinra's greatest soldier getting ruined by a filthy beast.

And when everything breaks down for Sephiroth, he finally lets his desires take over him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nibelheim is in flames behind him.

Sephiroth is no longer the hero he was perfectly molded into. He has replaced that man with a murderous monster and he wants to meet his cursed kin. He wants to meet you.

He easily struck down the dozens of Shinra workers that tried to block his path to you and when he reaches the door to the room you're kept in, he barges in like he's about to raid it.

Hojo's not here, but Sephiroth hardly cares right now as he slams the door behind him and locks it, throwing various items of furniture in front of it. He is not risking any Shinra scum interrupting his time with you.

The only light in the room is the harsh blue lighting of your tank, which appears absolutely massive. The cylindrical cell takes up nearly half of the entire back wall, spanning the floor to the ceiling.

His eyebrows furrow as he notices your lack of presence, so he slowly walks over and peers into the glass. The interior descends into complete darkness, yet something tells him you're secretly curled up at the bottom, looking up at him.

Now that he's up close, he realises your tank isn't actually as big as it seemed. It's tall, yes, but quite cramped with limited space for you to move around. It saddens him to think that this has been your 'home' for at least the past few years.

Not wanting to tap against the glass, Sephiroth looks around for something else he could possibly entice you with. He spots a bucket of fish sitting on one of the tables and rushes over to it. Beside the bucket lies a clipboard with a single piece of paper attached to it. He's not in the mood to read any of it, but he catches the line that states, 'Feed time: 12:00 pm daily'.

His nose scrunches, appalled. You're only being fed once a day? Poor thing.

Without even thinking about the obvious risks of this act, he takes a handful of fish and heads up the steps leading up the side of your tank.

He takes a deep breath in preparation, then opens the lid of your tank and drops a fish into the water. He hurriedly closes the lid and peers around the front of the enclosure , watching the fish sink agonisingly slowly into the shadowy depths below.

He pouts, his goal having been to get you to swim up so he can see you.

So he tries again and watches the second fish head into the darkness on its own... then the third... and then the fourth.

He holds the last fish desperately in his hand, closing his eyes and saying a small plea to himself, before lifting the lid once more.

However, before he can drop the fish in, a large webbed hand breaches the surface and locks onto Sephiroth's arm. In shock, he lets go of the fish and it drops down the stairs as he tries to break free.

A second webbed hand takes hold of his other arm, claws scratching at his skin.

Sephiroth's instincts overpower his lust as he pulls back in fright, yelling and kicking at you, yet your grip is too strong.

"G-Get off! Stop!" he screams, tears building up in his eyes as panic sets in.

This was a terrible idea.

With a solid hold on Sephiroth and the lid of your tank open just enough, you pull yourself up, your back crashing into the lid and sending it flying backwards.

From the waist up, you're now out of the water, giving Sephiroth a decent idea of your size. You tower over him, your broad frame engulfing him. Slimy scales on your arms and neck shimmer against the glow from the tank and Sephiroth's terrified eyes follow them up your body until he reaches your face. His breath hitches.

You're absolutely beautiful.

Your eyes mirror the depths of the ocean, their mesmerising hues hypnotising Sephiroth and making him relax in your arms as he admires them.

Your majesty calms him, reminds him why he came here. It was to see you - to let you devour him as you were the only kin he feels he has.

He no longer struggles in your hold. Instead,  he slowly takes off his gloves, careful not to make any sudden movements, dropping them beside him.

He then gently runs his fingers over your broad, soft chest.

A confused sound leaves you as your eyes follow his hands and he chuckles.

His touch trails down, ghosting over your waist where skin and scales meet. He takes your hands in his and guides them to his belt.

There’s a small click as the buckle is undone and Sephiroth lets the garment fall.

He looks up at you as he takes your hands to the clasps of his coat, watching your unreadable expression with eager eyes.

When they both pop, his coat opens to reveal his SOLDIER belt resting on his stomach.

He catches the way your eyes widen slightly with hunger and the thrill it gives him goes straight between his legs.

As if you're watching an oyster reveal its pearl to you, you sink back into the water until your lower half is submerged and watch intensely as Sephiroth undresses fully for you.

Each movement is slow as Sephiroth tries not to visibly shake from his nerves. Every so often he'll glance over at your still frame, his arousal pulsing as your dark eyes burn into him.

Once he's fully nude for you, he hesitantly reaches out for you with an unsteady hand, wanting you to come back to him. The pure, unmarked skin of his palm immediately tempts you and you surge towards him.

Your body weight pushes him down onto his back. The breath is knocked out of him and you tug his jaw open and force your tongue inside.

Sephiroth groans into you, letting you have your way with him as you settle between his splayed legs.

As you indulge in his delicious taste, you start to subconsciously grind yourself against Sephiroth's heat. The white-haired man whines at the feeling of scales rubbing up and down his dick, the sensation so foreign yet somehow so right.

You finally pull back, relishing in your little pearl's submission. He meets your gaze and wraps his legs around your waist.

"More...Give me more, my love..." he pants, practically humping you like a dog in heat.

He doesn't know if it's his words or his actions that you understand, but one of them gets through and you take hold of his sculpted hips and flip him around.

He moans loudly as your slick body slides between him, feeling completely helpless in this moment.

Your hands lie on his ass, roughly toying with the soft flesh. You never knew humans could be so...alluring.

Unable to resist your feral urges, you dive in and begin gliding your long tongue along his hole.

Sephiroth jerks up and yelps, yet you instantly shove him back down again with a strong hand on his back, hissing in his ear at his disobedience.

His heart races in fear and excitement, whining when your tongue finds his hole again and pushes its way inside.

Your strength surpasses his - Sephiroth can only wriggle about under your unbreakable hold, crying and gasping at the new sensations his body is experiencing.

"P-Please, m-mmph~!" he babbles, his words slurred like he's dreaming.

His legs kick up behind you as you continue to knead his thigh with your other hand.

Your tongue slithers against his walls as it stretches them wide open, only just missing a certain spot that Sephiroth is crying for you to hit. Your prey desperately tries to arch his hips up to give you easier access, but you're having none of it and press your hand into his back.

Sephiroth screams in frustration and you only stop when his frantic kicking makes it a little too difficult to carry on. As soon as your hand leaves his back, he pushes his ass up, his thick thighs quivering.

He glances back at you anxiously, as if anticipating you to pounce on him, and is met with you flashing your terrifying fangs at him in an evil grin. His dick twitches and you lean in, using that same tongue that just devoured his asshole to lick all the way up from his tailbone to his neck.

You push your hips onto his, driving his back down as you lie fully on top of him. He moans erotically as your tongue runs up the side of his neck.

"Oh, my love~" he sighs. "I've waited for this for s-so long..."

He reaches up and cups your jaw with his hand, biting his lip seductively when you make eye contact with him.

"Waited for you..." he whispers, before opening his mouth and letting you slide your tongue back in.

Despite the filth of the situation he's in, Sephiroth finds this action romantic. Almost as if it's your version of a kiss.

As you devour him in it, you both gently rock your hips together. The longer you continue this movement, Sephiroth notices the scales rubbing against his ass becoming smoother, like they're disappearing.

Just as he wants to part from the kiss to see what's happening, something hot and wet pokes the inside of his thigh.

He jumps, breaking your kiss and whipping his head around to look behind him. He nearly cums from what he sees.

He stares in awe as a pink tentacle-esque appendage, similar to your tongue only much longer and thicker, slides out from a slit between the crotch area of your scales.

You watch, amused, as his eyes widen with shock, blush covering his cheeks. Your cock slaps against his ass, smearing a mysterious slimy substance all over it.

Sephiroth gasps at the lewdity of it all and when your dick prods at his hole, he looks up at you like a lost puppy. His hand falls from your jaw to your chest, which he buries his face into when he feels you enter him with ease.

You lower his upper half back down and wrap your arms around him, essentially hugging him from behind as you start thrusting into him.

At this, Sephiroth tears up and reciprocates the hug as best he can. 

This is everything he needed, everything he longed for.

The slapping of your scales against his wet skin is the only thing he can hear right now, his own cries unimportant as your warmth envelops him.

"M-My love..." Sephiroth sobs into you.

Despite being inhuman, you can feel his emotions and hug him tighter, lifting his hips up slightly to get a better angle in him.

Your dick now slips against that spot he was dying for you to hit earlier, making him roll his eyes back as he sees stars. The loud whines and whimpers he lets out are muffled by your powerful arms.

Everything about this experience is new to him - the pleasure, the comfort, the protection. All his life Sephiroth has been made to believe that he's undeserving of these things, yet you of all people have shown him otherwise.

With you, Sephiroth is not Shinra's most powerful soldier, a weapon used for war. Instead, he is vulnerable in a way that makes him feel wanted. Loved.

He's so lost in how incredible your dick and your body feel that he doesn't realise that you feel the same way. Sort of.

Your pace picks up and the man beneath you starts squirming as a different kind of heat begins to swirl inside of him.

"Oh~! A-Ah! I'm gonna-- Oh, my love I-I'm gonna--!!!" his words are nearly incoherent.

As you hammer into him, the only words he can get out are various pet names for you alongside the occasional "Cumming~~!".

And that's the only warning you get before he shudders in your arms, pearly cum gushing out of him as his orgasm takes over.

With your limited interactions with humanity, you've never seen this behaviour before, so you cease moving and loosen your hold on him, peering over his shoulder.

After who knows how long, his orgasm fades, leaving him trembling beneath you.

You push the hair out of his face to check if he's still conscious. Even if he's not, you're too impatient to wait for him to wake up, grabbing him harshly and dragging him halfway into the water.

This throws him out of whatever state he was in as he cries out in surprise.

"W-Wait, my love--!!"

He stutters as you pull out and spin him round to face you, his flushed face stained with tears.

He weakly manages to wrap his legs around your waist as you shove back into him. He hurriedly grasps your shoulders, struggling to adjust to your speed as you pound into his abused hole.

His cries and shouts fall on deaf ears as your dick pistons in and out of him. His tight ass squeezes the wet tendril, a choked 'Ah!' being punched out of him each time it rams into that same spot.

"Too much~~! 'S too much my love--!" he rambles.

Faint colourful patterns start to dance around in Sephiroth's vision. He no longer has any strength or energy to move on his own, completely relying on your body to keep his head above water.

You bask in his desperation, softly lapping and nibbling at his earlobe possessively.

This pathetic man walked into your enclosure and opened your tank like a naive child trying to feed a lion at the zoo. He has made his mistake and you will not let him back out of it.

He's given you a taste of something you have been denied for years.

You will make this man your mate whether he likes it or not.

The thought alone is enough to send a thrill down you, clinging onto his toned waist as you slam even more brutally into him.

You let out a pleased trill next to his ear as your hips stutter, ready to fill your mate up.

"W-Wait-! Ah~! A-AH?!"

Sephiroth's noises are cut off by the feeling of your hot sperm releasing into him, his own overstimulated cock weakly spurting out more small drops of white.

His nails dig into the scales on your shoulders as he clenches around you tight, focussing solely on the warmth spilling into his stomach.

"Love..." he whispers, dizzy.

Sephiroth physically cannot carry himself and his head falls onto your shoulder in exhaustion.

You peer down at him curiously, before scooping him up in your arms and lying back in the water, letting him rest on you as his own personal lifeboat.

He falls asleep within minutes, so worn out he doesn't stir when you later jump out of your tank, carrying him with you in your arms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shinra SOLDIERS finally manage to break into your cell, hours after you escaped with your lover.

All they discover is your empty tank with the top wide open and a rogue deceased fish lying on the floor.

𓆚

[blueboybot]

Damsel Not In Distress: The Kidnapped Chronicles

Just a short story I'll be posting here with Danny getting kidnapped constantly but beating the shit out of his kidnappers, and somehow going viral everytime he does it.

_________

To think this all started because he kissed Robin on the cheek as a quick thank you for 'saving' Cujo before rushing off with his green dog. Well, unfortunately for Danny someone caught it on video and it had been trending for a while.

Things had finally settled down when some idiot kidnapped him and some other civilians claiming how he was going to use Danny to lure out the Bats because obviously giving Robin a peck on the cheek meant that they were in a relationship together.

After freeing himself and beating up the criminal this has become an almost weekly occurence. And then it finally happened, one of Gotham's major villians kidnapped him...the Joker.

Glad to say that after freeing himself Danny promptly walked up to the man who was still talking to the camera, not noticing the pissed off teenager behind him, and used the ropes that once had him tied to choke the Joker. Luckily for the Joker the Bats arrived and took care of things before it became a crime scene.

What Danny was not expecting was being crushed on by Robin, who had been showing up after his beatdown of criminals.

Too bad Damian Wayne wants to make Danny his.

[wonderlandwalker]

Hell Hath no Fury like a Buckley

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 / 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x buckley!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.2k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there's exactly two thoughts left in Steve's brain: you, and the fact that he's about to majorly violate the bro code 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: the usual I guess, hopeless pining, smut, mostly those, seems the only writing style I have is 'falls desperately deeply in love at first sight' and I'm not in the mood to psychoanalyse it so here's more of that

𝐚/𝐧: was gonna work on this more but I had to commemorate Pope Francis' morbidly entertaining demise somehow x

Steve Harrington was many things—

Former King of Hawkins High (retired, thank you very much). Babysitter extraordinaire (unofficial title, of course, but the kids would back him up). And, according to Robin Buckley—his best friend, partner-in-crime, and personal tormentor—a ‘walking disaster with good hair’.

But right now?

Right now, he was fucking mortified.

Okay.

Wait—

Let’s rewind.

Five minutes ago, life had been simple: Steve had been doing his best impression of a responsible lifeguard, which mostly meant leaning against the chair with his sunglasses perched low, pretending he wasn’t counting the minutes until his shift ended and he could stop caring about pH levels. The Hawkins community pool was the same as ever— the sharp tang of sunscreen and chlorine in the air, kids cannonballing into the deep end, and Debbie — the one lifeguard who actually gave a shit about the rules— blowing her whistle at some poor kid for running. Steve?

Steve was here for two reasons. One: free access to the pool after hours — unofficial, of course—courtesy of Keith’s lack of managerial oversight.  And two: A pay cheque that barely covers gas money but is still better than listening to his dad rant on to him about ‘loafing around all summer like a goddamn bum.’

And then— 

Then he saw you.

Which, okay, is not that unusual— people come to the pool all the time.  And it wasn’t that you stood out, not really. No, you were just— there. In a swimsuit like half the other girls, a loose cover-up tied around your hips, but fuck— As you stepped into the sunlight, it was like the universe had hit pause. You moved like a struck match in a room full of shadows—vivid, flickering, impossible to look away from. Everybody else blurred at the edges, cardboard cut-outs in your wake, but you? You burnt.

And Steve—God, Steve was already half in love with the way the light would destroy him. He knew the story. Knew how it ended. Orpheus wasn’t supposed to turn around. But you smiled at him, and suddenly he understood: some temptations aren’t meant to be resisted. They’re meant to unravel you, thread by thread, until you’re grateful for the ruin.

Oh, shit.

You were walking straight toward him.

Fuck.

Think, Harrington, think.

You looked familiar. Hawkins isn’t exactly a metropolis—if you’d gone to school here, he’d know you. Had you been at the summer fun fair? Sat behind him in chem sophomore year? Christ, this was bad. Steve—King Steve, who used to have the entire school catalogued in his peripheral vision—couldn’t even scrape together a fucking name. Maybe you were—

Your eyes met his—sharp enough to flay him open—and your smirk said you knew exactly how hard his brain was liquidating.

Double fuck.

You were smiling at him—Christ—that stagnant, astute curve of lips that already felt branded behind his eyelids, and he was staring. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Some distant, rational part of his intellect screamed at him: say something cool. Say something cool. 

Instead, all he could track was the way you tilted your head—that loose strand of hair escaping, catching sunlight like spun gold as it tumbled free. His fingers spasmed at his side with the sudden, visceral urge to reach out—to brush it back behind your ear with a touch too tender for whatever this was. The realisation made him feel violently stupid, like some second-rate rom-com hero about to monologue his feelings in the rain.

"Hey," you said, and your voice wrapped around him like smoke. Steve's pulse stuttered. "Have you seen Robin by any chance?"

The whiplash of it—the casual destruction of that moment—left his cerebrum sputtering like a dying engine.

Robin?

Why the hell were you asking about Robin?

Robin doesn’t have friends he didn’t know about. He is her best friend, which means he knows all her people—the band geeks, the weirdos from the record store, and even that one girl who could recite The Hobbit in Elvish. He’d met them all.

And yet, here you were, asking for her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you had the right to know her schedule. Like you—

His mouth moved faster than his brain. "She left to grab beers, like...five minutes ago."

"Figures," you hummed, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched—that tell-tale sign of years weathering Robin's particular brand of chaos. "She swore she'd meet me here, but I guess we're operating on Buckley Standard Time again."

Steve's thoughts screeched to a halt.

Buckley Standard Time.

That was—

No. That couldn't be right. Because that was his bit. Well, technically it was their bit — his and Robin’s— the joke he'd made after she'd shown up forty minutes late to their shift because she'd "gotten into a debate about whether hot dogs were sandwiches with some guy at the record store." 

He'd thought that was theirs. Just theirs.

But you knew it.

Which meant—

Oh shit.

Oh, no.

His stomach dropped like he’d just crested the first hill of a rollercoaster—that awful, weightless second before the plunge. Because there were only two kinds of people who knew Buckley Standard Time: him, and someone who’d known Robin longer than he had. And unless you were some kind of psychic super-stalker (which, given the way his heart was currently trying to break through his ribs, he might’ve honestly preferred), that left only one earth-shattering possibility.

His eyes flicked over your face again, searching for it—the resemblance. The same sharp wit tucked into the corner of your smile. The identical nose scrunch when you laughed. Christ, how had he missed it? He’d been too busy being dazzled, too busy cataloguing the way sunlight caught in your eyes, to notice the nuclear bomb of a truth staring him in the face.

“Y-you’re—” Steve cleared his throat, trying to wrestle his voice into something resembling casual indifference. It came out closer to a pubescent seagull. “You’re Robin’s…?”

“Twin.Yeah.” Your grin widened, head tilting in a way that should’ve had a government warning: Caution: May cause permanent heart palpitations.

Holy.

Shit.

He’d heard about you, of course—the mythical other half of Robin’s childhood stories, the shadow in the Polaroids stuffed in her wallet. He’d even known you were coming to town for the summer. But in his mind, he’d just pictured… Robin 2.0. Same chaos, different zip code. But meeting you in person was a different kind of disaster.

Not only were you Robin’s sister—fully, irrevocably off-limits by the Bro Code in every conceivable universe—but he’d just spent the past two minutes mentally drafting embarrassingly bad poetry about how your eyes reminded him of...something poetic (he hadn't gotten that far). 

And Robin?

Robin was going to murder him.

Slowly. Painfully. With that special look of disappointment she reserved exclusively for when he was being “particularly Harrington-ish”.

"Oh," he said, brilliantly. "Cool. That's—cool." The words hung in the air like particularly unimpressive confetti. You raised one eyebrow, clearly savouring the spectacle of smooth talking. Steve Harrington reduced to a floundering mess. "You okay there?"

"Yep. Great. Never better." His grip on the lifeguard chair tightened until the plastic creaked ominously. "Just, uh—didn't know Robin had a sister." Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid—

The moment the words left his mouth, your face twitched—part amusement, part genuine bewilderment. “Really?” For a second he wondered if he should just fucking bolt, but then your smile returned, and he forgot how his lungs worked. "I've been away at college," you explained, shifting your weight just enough to make the hem of your cover-up ride up, and Steve suddenly developed an intense fascination with the chlorine dispenser behind you, his ears burning crimson. "But I'm back for the summer, and Robin promised me pool privileges." You leaned in, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Apparently, you're the guy to sweet-talk for after-hours access."

Sweet-talk.

You wanted to sweet-talk him.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His mouth opened, ready to blurt something catastrophically eager like, "You don't even need to sweet-talk me; I'd drain the pool and refill it with champagne if you asked," when—

"There you are!"

Robin materialised like some kind of vengeful angel, arms loaded with a six-pack and a half-eaten bag of chips. "I see you two already met." Her expression cycled from relief at spotting you to instant suspicion as her gaze darted between your amused smile and Steve's deer-in-headlights-meets-fish-out-of-water-meets-man-who-just-remembered-he-left-the-stove-on panic. "Why does Steve look like he's about to pass out?" She asked flatly, already exhausted. "Earth to Harrington. You good?" Robin waved a hand in front of his glazed-over eyes, then shot you a look. "This guy's supposed to save lives? Yeah, right."

Which brings us back to fucking mortified.

Robin doesn’t even wait for you to reach the car, having commandeered you on an urgent towel retrieval mission she absolutely (and suspiciously) couldn’t handle herself. One second Steve's watching you go, the next he's being manhandled behind the snack bar like a misbehaving golden retriever, Robin's fingers digging into his bicep like she’s trying to jump-start his malfunctioning brain through sheer force. "What the fuck is up with you?" She hisses, voice low enough that it bypasses his eardrums and vibrates directly in his panic centre. Her free hand gestures wildly toward the parking lot. "Why are you acting so weird?”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. His throat makes a noise like a dial-up modem trying to connect. "I wasn't—" Robin's eyes narrow into lethal slits. "You were." She releases his arm only to jab a finger against his sternum hard enough to leave a bruise. "The moment she walked in, you short-circuited so hard I could smell burning wiring. You called the pool ladder ‘ma’am’. Twice."

Steve’s pulse kicks into overdrive. “What? I was just—being nice.” He gestures vaguely at the pool, as if that explains anything. “I’m a nice guy, Robin. It’s a thing I do.” She scoffs, nostrils flaring. “Harrington, I’ve seen your ‘nice’. This wasn’t ‘nice’. This was—” She makes a frantic explosion motion with her hands, complete with a “pshooo!” sound effect. “—full-system meltdown ‘nice’. You were sweating.”

“It’s July,” he protests weakly.

“You never sweat.”

“I always sweat!”

“You once fought a demodog in a leather jacket and came out dewy at most.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “That’s— that’s not—” But before he can dig his grave any deeper, you reappear, sauntering over with a smirk that spells nothing but trouble. “Everything alright over here?” Robin’s grip on his arm tightens like a warning. “Great!” she chirps, voice suddenly three octaves too high. “Steve was just telling me how thrilled he is to have another Buckley around.”

Steve’s smile is less charming Harrington grin and more man awaiting execution. “Thrilled”, he croaks. “Yep. So. So thrilled.” Your grin widens at his words—slow, studious, dangerous. "Yeah?" You step closer, and Steve's heart launches into an Olympic-grade gymnastics routine—triple backflip, perfect landing, gold medal in catastrophic panic. "Because I was just thinking..." Your finger taps a thoughtful rhythm against your chin. "...about all that quality time we'll be sharing. Robin says you throw legendary parties."

Steve’s brain flatlines. Parties. Together. You. Him. Oh God.

Across from him, Robin’s gaze darts between the two of you, her expression morphing from suspicion to outright dread.

Steve's Adam's apple bobs like it's trying to flee his throat. She knows. Christ, she definitely knows. He has just enough coherent thought left to realise:

He is so spectacularly, catastrophically, irrevocably fucked.

He spends the rest of the week trying to avoid you. Trying being the key word here. The universe, it seems, has other plans.

Because you're everywhere—a constant, maddening presence burning at the edges of his vision like the ghost of a flashlight in the dark. He swears you're doing it on purpose, catching his eye just to watch him fumble, that sly smile playing at the corners of your lips every time his pulse stutters under your gaze. And God, does it stutter.

You’re at the impromptu movie night Nancy throws, wedged between Robin and Eddie on the couch, laughing as you recall some childhood disaster involving a stolen bike, a jar of peanut butter, and—if Robin’s dramatic interruptions are to be believed—a "very pissed-off raccoon with a personal vendetta."

"Way more traumatic than this," you declare, gesturing at the slasher flick on the screen where some poor extra is meeting their gory demise. Steve—who’s stranded in the armchair like some sombre, forgotten puppy—can’t manage to join in. Not when your laughter does things to his pulse that’s sure to send him into cardiac arrest any day now.

But then your knee brushes against Eddie’s as you lean forward to grab a handful of popcorn, and something hot and irrational coils in Steve’s gut. It’s stupid—Eddie’s just a friend, and it’s not like he has any claim over you—but the way your fingers linger near Eddie’s wrist for half a second too long makes Steve’s jaw clench.

Then there's the Hawkins High tailgate, where the lukewarm beer and golden-hour sunlight are the real stars of the show – not the Tigers' tragic losing streak. Steve leans against his BMW, nursing a drink and trying to convince himself that he’s here for school spirit— he’s lying. He’s so fucking obvious about it that Robin’s been giving him that look all afternoon—the one that says, ”I will skin you alive if you make this weird.”

And like his personal reckoning—you appear. One second, he’s staring blankly ahead, and the next, you’re sliding onto the hood of his car like you own it, all long legs and lazy smiles. The dying sun paints your skin in hues of amber and gold, catching on the delicate bend of your collarbone and the smooth plane of your thighs where your cut-off shorts ride up.

Christ.

He wants to map every inch of you with his mouth, starting at the delicate dip of your ankle—that vulnerable hollow where his lips could linger—then leisurely, torturously working his way up. Up the taut line of your calf, tracing the sensitive bend of your knee with his tongue. Higher still, along the trembling skin of your inner thigh, where his teeth might graze just to feel you shiver. An unhurried pilgrimage of worship, every gasp and hitch of your breath another sacred waypoint in his journey.

”Dude, you’re, like, actually drooling.” Dustin’s voice cuts through his increasingly inappropriate thoughts. Steve chokes on his drink, beer burning his sinuses as he wheezes, ”What? No, I’m not—!” But Dustin just raises his eyebrows, impervious. ”Uh-huh. Sure.” And then Robin’s there. ”So!” she chirps, stealing Steve’s beer right out of his hand. ”Who’s ready to watch our team get slaughtered?” You hum softly in your throat – a vibration Steve feels more than hears – as you tilt your head toward him. The calculated brush of your knee against his thigh burns through the denim between you, lingering just a second too long to be accidental. His breath catches when you don't pull away, your leg warm and insistent against his.

He’s so screwed.

Even as the midday sun is brutal at the Hawkins pool, he barely feels it—not when you’re walking toward his lifeguard chair with that look in your eyes —the mischievous Buckley spark.

You hold up the sunscreen bottle , tilting your head with a smile of practiced innocence. "Can you help me?" Before he can answer, you're already turning—presenting your back to him where the strings of your bikini top form a delicate, infuriating knot. "I can't reach," you add, voice dripping with false helplessness.

Steve's soul nearly leaves him: "I— You—Robin can—" "Robin's allergic to coconut oil," you lie effortlessly, glancing over your shoulder. The sunlight catches the curve of your shoulder blade, the flutter of your lashes. His mouth goes desert-dry. "And you are the lifeguard." You let the implication hang between you like the summer heat. "Isn't it your job to protect me?"

Fuck.

His hands tremble as he squeezes sunscreen onto his palms, the lotion warm from the sun. When his fingers finally make contact with your skin, you hum—soft, satisfied—and he swears you lean into his touch, just slightly. The sound goes straight to his gut, hot and insistent. His thumbs press into the dip of your spine, dragging sluggish circles that have no business being that deliberate. “You missed a spot,” you murmur, shifting just enough that his fingers brush the edge of your bikini tie. Steve’s breath comes ragged. This is torture.

And now? Now the bass from Tina’s stereo thrums through the floor, rattling Steve’s bones like a second heartbeat. The air is thick with sweat and cheap beer, the kind of chaos he usually lives for—except tonight, his entire world has narrowed down to you.

All evening, he’s been trapped in a loop of stolen glances and half-formed hopes, wondering if the way your eyes linger on him means something or if he’s just another fool drunk on wishful thinking. Is this real? Is this worth it? The questions gnaw at him, unanswered, even as he drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle down with a clink. And then, as if summoned by his desperation, you’re there. Emerging beside him like smoke, you lean into the wall, your shoulder pressing against his, and suddenly—the music, the crowd, the entire fucking room might as well not exist.

"Trying to hide from me, Harrington?" You taunt, tipping your drink to your lips. The bottle’s rim glistens under the dim light, and your mouth—pink, slow, meticulous—lingers there for a beat too long. It’s a calculated assault on what little composure he has left. His throat goes dry.

“Would it work if I were?” He shoots back, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. His voice is rougher than he intended, betraying the way his pulse jumps under his skin. You laugh, low and keen, before stepping into his space. Your palm lands on his chest, searing through the fabric of his shirt. “Probably not.” You admit, fingers crooking slightly—testing, teasing—and he knows you can feel the frantic hammering of his heart beneath your touch.

“You know,” you murmur, leaning in until your breath ghosts his jaw, “Robin talks about you all the time.” 

His breath hitches.

This is dangerous.

Your knee brushes his thigh, prudent and—holy shit—his thoughts dissolve into static. “But she never mentioned how cute you are when you’re flustered.” The words curl into his ear, sweet and lethal. He should say something clever, something smooth, but all he can manage is a shaky exhale as your fingers trail up to his collarbone, tracing the edge of his shirt. You’re close enough now that he can smell the jasmine of your perfume and the faint tang of gin on your tongue. Your hips tilting, just a fraction, and— “I wonder”, you whisper, lips grazing the shell of his ear, “what else I don’t know yet.”

Before he can respond—before he can even breathe—you’re leaning in, your nose almost brushing his. His hand lifts—to pull you closer? To push you away? —when—

"Oh my God."  

Robin’s voice shatters the moment as she stands there, arms crossed, looking done. “I leave you two alone for five minutes—”

Steve jerks back like he’s been burnt. "Robin! Hey! We were just—"

"—about to make my life a living hell?" 

Steve’s mouth snaps shut, his fingers flexing at his sides like he’s still debating whether to reach for you again, and his gaze flickers to your lips — just for a moment— before he forces a laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The gesture does nothing to hide the flush creeping up his throat. “Come on,” he deflects, “We were just talking.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Uh-huh. And 'talking' now involves you two looking like you’re about to re-enact Dirty Dancing in the middle of the living room?" Steve can feel your pulse kick where your thigh brushes against his, but you don’t back down. You’re clearly used to these sparring matches with Robin, a rhythm he doesn’t yet know the steps to, and he’s equal parts terrified and intrigued.

"Maybe you should’ve knocked," you shoot back, grinning wider when Robin’s jaw drops and Steve’s composure nosedives like a bird that just noticed the window isn’t open.

"Nope. No. Absolutely not." Robin jabs a finger between the two of you like she’s warding off evil. "I refuse to be the third wheel in whatever… this is." She spins toward the kitchen with enough dramatic flair to create wind resistance. "I'm getting another drink," she announces over her shoulder. "Or seven. Alone. Like the abandoned best friend in every fucking rom-com."

Steve takes a half-step forward. "Rob—"

"Save it, Dingus." She pauses, levelling you both with a glare that’s equal parts warning and surrender. "Ground rules," she announces, holding up a finger. "You—" The finger jabs at Steve's chest. “If you hurt my sister, I’ll give you a live demonstration of why The Texas Chainsaw Massacre wasn’t rated PG. Spoiler: It’s the bone saws.” Her finger swings to you, and Steve can practically hear your heartbeat kick into overdrive against his side. "And you—if you give him another existential crisis, I'm telling Mom you're the one who broke Grandma's urn and that you're the reason we had to get the couch steam-cleaned in '82."

Then she’s gone, swallowed by the noise of the party.

The silence between you is thick, charged. Steve exhales, slow and shaky, before turning back to you. The air crackles—Robin’s interruption only fanned the flames, and now it licks at his skin, relentless. His voice comes out rough, just this side of breaking: "She’s never gonna let me live this down." You bite your lip, stepping closer. The scent of your perfume coils around him, dizzying. "Then we might as well give her something real to complain about," you murmur, lips grazing the shell of his ear. His breath stutters when your fingers skate up his throat, nails scraping just barely over his stubble. A whimper claws its way out of him, raw and unbidden. "Christ. You’re killin’ me here." You grin, all teeth. "Good." Your thumb brushes the frantic pulse under his jaw. "We’ve got about twelve minutes until she storms back. Better make ‘em count."

This time, when you lean in, there’s no one to stop you, just the muffled clink of Robin angrily rearranging liquor bottles in the kitchen. Steve finally—fucking finally—learns what you taste like (gin and mint and something addicting), how your lips feel against his (softer than he imagined, but demanding, hungry), and how the dip of your waist fits under his palms like it was made for him. And Christ—the sound you make when he pulls you flush against him, a moan clawing its way up your throat, is enough to unravel him completely.

His brain, stuck on a loading screen for days, finally processes one coherent thought:

Fuck it.

Steve's hand fists in your hair, dragging you closer—Christ, not close enough—until your shared breath turns jagged. Just as he tilts his head to finally taste you properly, you pull back. His stomach plummets like a failed carnival ride. For one gut-twisting second, he's certain he's ruined it—misread the way your body arched against his, all heat and hunger, like you wanted to melt into his skin. Then your fingers lock around his wrist, nails biting just shy of pain, and the look you give him isn't hesitation—it's wildfire. "C'mere," you murmur, already walking down the hallway, tugging him along. Steve doesn't think; his body moves before his mind catches up, pulled by the magnetism of your touch.

The party dissolves into white noise—drowned out by the hammering rhythm of his pulse. Every passive draw of your thumb against his skin is a brand-new dare, burning straight through to his sternum. The hallway diminishes around you, lit only by a sputtering bulb that throws strobe-light shadows across your face. He doesn't miss the way your teeth sink into your lower lip as you glance at the bathroom door—or how your grip tightens like you're fighting the urge to sprint the last few steps.

Then you're shoving him inside, all impatient hands and shared momentum. The door clicks shut behind you with finality, sealing you both in the dark. Somewhere outside, a cheer goes up—maybe for the keg stand, maybe for the universe laughing at how thoroughly Steve Harrington is about to lose his goddamn mind.

The space is cramped, the air thick with the odour of soap and the lingering sweetness of someone’s perfume. The sink digs into his lower back, cold enough to make him hiss—but then your hands are on him, warm and demanding, and he forgets everything else. Forgets the way your thighs had tensed when he licked the salt off his hand before taking a shot. Forgets the way you’d watched his throat bob as he laughed at one of Robin’s jokes. Forgets the way you’d nearly choked on your own tongue when he’d rolled up his sleeves in the kitchen, forearms flexing as he scooped ice into a cup. The party’s bass thrums through the walls, a distant echo beneath the serrated sound of his own breathing and the slick noise of your mouth on his skin. Christ, he hopes the music’s loud enough to drown out the way you whimper when he sucks at your pulse point.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” you admit, voice low, and the crude honesty in it makes his throat go dry. Your fingers dig into his hips, pulling him closer. “All week”, you correct, and suddenly he’s replaying every glance, every brush of contact: the way you’d “tripped” into his side at the pool, how you’d lingered in his space after movie night, your knee pressed to his thigh for a full thirty minutes before Robin kicked you both off her couch. The memory of your breath on his neck when you’d leaned over his shoulder to steal a fry at the diner—had you always smelt this good?

Steve’s hands trail up your waist, thumbs carving possessive lines into that sliver of exposed skin where your shirt’s ridden up. “Yeah?” he rasps, voice wrecked—drunk on the way your breath hitches, on the way your ribs expand under his palms like you’re already starving for it. “Funny. I thought I was the one losing my damn mind.” You hum—a quiet, perceptive sound—before inching your lips along the column of his throat. He feels the vibration of it like a live wire down his spine, sparking at every vertebra. “Show me,” you murmur against his pulse, and the challenge in it sends his blood south so fast he gets lightheaded. It’s all the permission he needs.

One hand fists in your hair, wrenching your head back as he crashes into you. This kiss isn’t like before—no teasing, no hesitation—just heat and teeth and the slick, filthy slide of your tongue against his. He swallows your whimper when his other hand slips under your shirt, palm skimming the bare dip of your waist. Christ. The whimper you let out when his fingers dig into your hip isn’t just sound. It’s a bloody revelation.

Steve knows he’s on borrowed time. Robin’s sharp and observant—she’ll come looking sooner rather than later, and when she does, she’ll take one look at his flushed face and your swollen lips and know. The thought should sober him up, but right now? He doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your nails bite into his shoulders, the way you gasp when he nips your lower lip, and the way your body fits against his like you were carved from the same damn stone. And when you roll your hips against his—slow, deliberate, maddening—his grip tightens, fingers digging into your waist hard enough to bruise. His voice is rough, wrecked, barely recognisable when he growls against your mouth: "This isn't exactly how I pictured our first time."

The words tear from Steve's throat, rough and wrecked—a confession to his sinful thoughts. The second they hit air, he freezes. Shit.

But you—Christ, you—just beam like you've won the lottery, dragging your teeth over his swollen bottom lip in a way that makes his knees threaten to buckle. "You pictured our first time?" Your voice drips with delight, thumb brushing the frantic pulse in his neck. Heat floods his cheeks, but you don't let him recover. You crash into him, kissing him so hard his back slams against the tiled wall. His hands move on pure instinct—lifting you onto the sink with a grunt, fingers skating up the soft underside of your thighs like he's memorising the map of you. When they dig in, kneading with a hunger that surprises even him, you moan directly into his mouth, and the sound goes straight to his dick.

You moan, and the sound tears something primal from his chest—a growl that rumbles against your lips, vibrating through you. "How about we save your ideal first time for later?" You murmur against him, biting his lip just hard enough to make him jerk against you. Your voice drops to a whisper, all heat and promise: "And focus on fucking my brains out in the next ten minutes?"

Steve's resolve doesn't just shatter—it disintegrates. Any pretence of patience evaporates as his hands find your waist, fingers pressing bruises into your hips that you'll savour tomorrow. His mouth crashes into yours again, but this time he's a man on a mission. He charts your skin like territory to be conquered—the sharp line of your jaw, the salt-slick column of your throat, the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath his tongue. When he reaches the swell of your cleavage, you arch into him with a gasp that turns into a whine as his teeth scrape delicate skin. Your fingers are already working at his belt, tugging with impatient urgency.

"Steve—"

"Fuck," he rasps, pulling back just enough to watch your face. "You sound even better than I imagined." And Christ, he has imagined this—in the shower, trying to relieve the ache with his hand, in his bed with the sheets tangled around his thighs, in the fucking Family Video break room when you'd leaned too close to reach a tape. Every fantasy pales in comparison to the reality of your nails digging into his hips as he shoves his jeans down just enough to free himself. Your hand wraps around him in one smooth motion, and for one blinding second, the world narrows to the slick heat of your fingers, the way your thumb swipes over the head just to watch his abs clench.

If this is heaven, he'll sign his own damn death warrant.

But then—then—you spin him around with surprising strength, dropping to your knees on the bath mat. The cool tile bites into his palms as he braces against the sink, but all he can focus on is the way your breath ghosts over him, the way your eyes lock onto his as your tongue—

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

His vision fractures at the edges, tunnelling until the universe condenses to three points: the wicked curve of your lips, the flutter of your lashes against your skin, and the sinful press of your tongue where he needs it most. For one suspended, blasphemous moment, Steve's convinced Robin actually killed him—because there's no earthly way this is real: your mouth sinking onto him like you've been starving for it, hot and wet and perfect, swallowing him down to the hilt with a vibration that travels straight to his fucking spine. The sound you make—a muffled, content hum around him as he hits the back of your throat—sends a full-body shudder through him.

Holy mother of God.

He knows better than to look. He knows he shouldn’t—but he does anyway, helpless as a marionette with its strings cut—

Big mistake.

Because now he's watching, really watching, as your lips stretch obscenely around him, as your throat works to take him deeper. Your eyes lock onto his, crinkled at the corners with vicious amusement as you take him deeper, and shit, suddenly he’s sixteen again, stumbling across his first Playboy, heart racing and palms sweating. Except now it’s your mouth, your knowing gaze scalding him hotter than July asphalt as you savour every choked noise he can’t suppress. He should say something, should at least try to form words, but all his head does is thud back again. That look alone—like you’re cataloguing his every twitch and heave—threatens to spill him into your throat right fucking now. If he doesn’t—

A burst of laughter ricochets down the hall, sudden and too close. Your fingers tighten reflexively around the base of him, nails grazing the sensitive skin there, and Steve’s entire body tenses like a bowstring drawn too tight, but his hips jerk forward before he can stop them, dragging a ragged groan from him.

“Fuck—we have to be quiet,” he rasps, but you just smirk around him, all devilish intent, dragging your tongue along his underside in a measured, filthy stripe that makes his vision blur at the edges. His legs actually cave in; he has to brace a forearm against the wall to stay upright.

It’s agony.

It’s ecstasy.

Then your eyes flutter shut, and the soft, satisfied hum you let out vibrates through him straight to his spine. His fingers fist in your hair—gentle, got to be gentle—but his hips jerk of their own accord, chasing the sinful heat of your mouth like it’s his only chance at salvation. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he chokes, voice shredded. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” And he means it. Because if this is what you do to him in some shitty bathroom, with Robin and half the party just beyond the door—Then what happens when he gets you alone? His mind whites out, fever-bright with the images: Pinning you against the first available surface—his bed, his car, the fucking kitchen counter—anything to finally take what you’ve been tormenting him with. Peeling you out of your clothes with agonising slowness, just to hear you whine and beg for his name. His mouth on every patch of skin he’s watched you expose all summer—the dip of your collarbone, the inside of your thighs, that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp when he accidentally brushes it. The way you’d clench around him when he finally sinks in, tight and desperate after an eternity of stolen glances. The filth he’d whisper in your ear: “Knew you’d take me so fucking good.”

“Christ,” he grits out, hips stuttering as you swallow him deeper. His knuckles tensing against the sink. “You’re so fucking—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupts him.

“Hey, dipshits!” Robin’s voice slices through the haze, sharp with accusation. "You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there."

Steve’s head thunks back against the wall. Goddamn it.

His entire body locks up, every muscle pulled taut between the mind-numbing pleasure of your mouth and the very real possibility of Robin kicking the door in. His fingers twist tighter in your hair—not to stop you, never to stop you, but because if he doesn’t anchor to something, he might genuinely combust. The bathroom light flickers overhead, casting shadows against your cheeks as you glance up at him, and—fuck—he’s never seen anything more obscene.

"Shit," he hisses, voice shredded. "Fuck, fuck—" The litany spills from him like a prayer, like a curse, like heresy. You pull off just enough to smirk up at him, lips slick and swollen, and the sight alone nearly undoes him. "We should stop," you murmur—liar, fucking liar—your breath scorching his skin. Your tongue grazes his tip as you speak, and Steve sees actual stars. He groans, low and wounded, but his thumb trails over your bottom lip anyway, smearing spit as he claims the wetness there. "Yeah. Yeah, we—" Another knock, louder this time, rattling the doorframe.

"I swear to God, Harrington," Robin’s voice cuts through the wood, "if you’re defiling my sister in there, I’m replacing your hairspray with Nair."

You pull back just enough to make him ache, and Steve’s breath hisses through his teeth—sharp, frustrated, barely holding back something far filthier. His hands twitch at your waist like he’s debating dragging you right back, but all he does is adjust himself with a rough groan, his jeans straining. When his gaze locks onto yours, it’s wildfire in the dark, pupils swallowing every last bit of reason. "This isn’t over." The words scrape out of him like a match strike, sulfur-sharp and spark-ready.

A smirk curls your lips as you stand, lips grazing the stubble along his jaw. The shudder it pulls from him is downright criminal.

"Better not be," you murmur against his skin, your tongue swiping the sting from his skin, sweet as poisoned candy. "Or I’ll finish what you started on my own—and trust me, you’ll lie awake trying and failing to picture it half as vividly as it’ll sound."

Steve’s breath catches. "Christ," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. He’s half-hard, wholly ruined, and absolutely fucked when you step back, looking far too innocent for someone who just had their mouth on—

The door flies open under Robin’s impatient fist. Steve barely has time to yank it wider before she’s glaring up at him, arms crossed. But Steve only has one thought consuming him:

Later.

[pt. II]

[natewriteslol]

Delicious In Dungeon Having a Crush on You HC's!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:

Summary: Just like the title says, how they would act if they had a crush on you including how you find out!

Pt.2 w Kabru, Shuro and Falin!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*°☆.。.:*

Senshi:

-I'm not going to lie it is going to take a fat minute for him to fess up his feelings for you let alone for people to notice because it is the little things that stand out.

-Senshi is really good at keeping secrets and is a really private person and fights for his peace

-So what if he may slip a little bit more food onto your plate, make your favorite dishes only for you if the ingredients for it just so happens to be in his bag, is always the first person to get you out of a dangerous situation? It's all out of convenience and being kind

-But his lack of casualty is also really telling like when giving out compliments he sometimes has a tinge of shyness to his voice, "You look...very nice y-yes"

-The way you find out he has a crush on you is because he eventually comes to a realization that he cannot keep running away from his problems because that has never ended in anything good and confesses his feelings for you

-It happened whilst everyone was asleep and it was just you two alone by the fire, the embers were crackling and you always enjoyed watching it ablaze while talking with Senshi. Eventually he piped up after staying silent for so long and having you take the lead in talking,

"I don't mean to corner you, nor do I expect you to feel the same but...I have feelings for you, genuinely Y/N. And, meeting you in this party means the world to me, as you all are unique treasures but you. I couldn't imagine just walking away without letting you know how much you mean to me."

-Honestly, Senshi is one of the least in denial about this predicament with his feelings and will come to you sooner

Marcille:

-A person who completely avoids her feelings for you like the plague and will deny like her life depends on it

-She swears to others that it's just because you're an amazing friend!

-She brings you your favorite sweet treats, offers to cast magic for your slightest inconveniences, she just so happens to bring books that are about the things you mentioned one off or are a specific interest you love

-The contrast of how she treats others vs. You is so jarring and it's really obvious that she has a crush on you. She is really protective and a bit possessive (not in a weird way) over you and she does not really care about the other people in her party like that

-Anytime she's afraid of something, she holds onto you, Marcille is VERY touchy with her crush

-The blonde blushes pretty consistently and is really shy when it comes to you and tries to appear nonchalant but fails miserably

-It's honestly so bad that even Laios caught on after Senshi threw him a clue and one time when it was just him asked her, which resulted in her coming clean and being VERY distressed as if she committed a crime

-The way you find out she has a crush on you is when you're on a mission in a dungeon. She was near a weeping willow exerting mana, rumored to grant wishes to anyone who asks.

-She held a piece of paper and was on her knees, looking up at the grand tree on the soft blades of grass. She began speaking to the tree once you silently walked in through the cave hole to check on her and the half-elf was completely unknowing of your intrusion,

-"Please they're the love of my life, and I'm not asking to force them but maybe...show me a sign if they like me back. They make me feel like no other and I am just so confused and I need guidance, Ancient Willow."

Chilchuck:

-Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny.

-Oh, and did I say deny

-He absolutely hates being the person caught with egg on his face and being in the wrong, so the fact that he himself Mr. 'No Party Romances' violated his own rules?

-He wants to fall into a hole right on the spot

-While he is a grown ass man and doesn't want to be a coward, Chilchuck doesn't want to face this problem head on surprisingly (sarcasm)

-He shows his love for you by trying to keep you the safe the most out of everyone in the party, scolds you HEAVILY when you mess up that could've cost you your life

-Some may say that it's just Chilchuck's explosive nature, Senshi was actually the first to see through it and grow suspicion over his behavior but honestly didn't have enough evidence for his theory and was shot down by Laios and Marcille

-It's not extremely obvious his slight shift in treatment until you had been kidnapped by the Chain Devil to protect Chilchuck from it's clutches

-And multiple times have members of the party have been kidnapped and although shaken he was able to keep his cool...but this time it was heavily different

-He let out a horrified scream that they had never heard from the Half-Foot before. He scrambled to his feet after watching you getting pulled into the darkness, his eyes were glassy and full of panic as he asked the rest on what they should do

-When they get you back, you were too tired to really stand so you laid in the sleeping bag as everyone else slept as well, but the brown haired man never left your side and watched as you slept

-...or so he thought

-You find out about his true feelings as you laid in your sleeping bag. As you were drifting in and out consciousness but felt light weight on the side of your body and Chilchuck began to talk to you, asking if you were awake

-"Good, you're fast asleep...I hope you know that I'm not hard on you because I don't like you that's...not even close to the truth.

I love you, so much and...I get so damn scared for you."

Laios:

-Constant. Monster. Facts.

-One of the things that makes Laios so attracted to you is that you listen and like when he nerds out so please be prepared. You're a safe space to spew out knowledge and it means the world to him

-Consistently gives you small little gifts, but then sometimes gifts to the others so it doesn't look suspicious. Maybe it was something with the light but, the look in his eye as he gave you the bracelet and put it on you was so different.

-Usually doesn't care about other people being in a towels or shirtless, but when it's you he feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. When he sees your collar bones and he tries to keep it very lokwey, but is highkey blushing

-Gives you some sketches of your favorite creatures, always "accidentally" makes your favorite dish for dinner nights, pouts a little when you need to be gone without him for a little

-If you're ever feeling insecure he might open his gob a little too much, "I get maybe why you'd feel that way but, if you ask me I think it's pretty hot" he says with a blank, enthusiastic smile on his face not at all understanding how that could come off

-You find out that the knight has a crush on you the first time he gets absolutely hammered with Senshi, Chilchuck as he was convinced by the two to get drunk

-The bar was packed in one of the "safe spaces" in town and you and Marcille were kinda the designated sober people within your party, and whilst the half elf was in the bathroom you decided to get some fresh air and got up from the stool seat

-"Whatcha' doing party is jus' getting started?" Laios asks

-You shot him a look over the shoulder and responded softly, "I need some fresh air hun, I'll be right back."

-And there went his inner dialogue. Out his mouth.

-"Woah, how sexy. Being in love really sucks sometimes since I'd really do tricks like a dog to be with them good god."

-The look you gave dobered him almost completely, and if that wasn't enough Marcille was right behind him and heard every word

-Love is cringe but he is free I guess.

Part Two:Kabru, Shuro and Falin!

[cwwv9]

«How to live if you’re a hurricane?»

— without gender!extrovert!reader x Isagi Yoichi, Meguro Bachira, Hiori Yo, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Mikage Reo, Nagi Seishiro, Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Shidou Ryusei.

Warning: The material contains an increased emotional character, elements of obsessive attention and vivid charisma, hyperactive behavior of the main reader, violations of rules and risky situations. The narrative is artistic, stylized. Suitable for readers who love chaos, energy and passion.

Note: old text from notes 02 lol, but I corrected it a little. Enjoy reading!

We have a hyperactive reader and this is how the guys from Blue Loka will react to it.

mailbox open for queries!!!!

Isagi Yoichi

• You’re like a virus in his system - you prevent him from concentrating, distracting, breaking into plans and strategies.

• "Yoichi, go climb the wall!" you say, and he is in the middle of a tactical review.

• But he’s going. Because you’re charging him. You’re the person with whom he feels his life is bigger than football.

• You are a feast, even in the simplest things. And he falls in love when he understands: he builds tactics not only to win, but also so that you have something to celebrate.

Meguro Bachira

• You are two fools, all of them one.

• He jumps - you’re in the air. He roars - you scream. He runs - you’re ahead. He thinks you’re both out of this world, and that’s wonderful.

• You’re dancing in the middle of the street, chasing pigeons, creating chaos and shouting, "This is our city!"

• He falls in love instantly, from the first second. For him you are the other half of a monster. His own energy.

Hiori Yo

• You are his contrast.

He is quiet, strategic, inward. And you live for the break. You jump, scream, rejoice every day as if it were the last.

• You pull it out of your head. You say, "Yo, you think too much! Go be a fool!"

He is at first terrified, but then notices that with you he breathes more freely.

• He falls in love when you hug him sharply in the middle of the street just because "the sun is beautiful".

• With you he learns to be himself. And no longer wants to go back into silence

Michael Kaiser

• You are a new religion for him. He meets you and immediately thinks: "Who is this crazy star?"

• You don’t react to his pappus, you don’t look in, you don’t flatter him. Instead, you confuse him by saying, "Do you always pose? Or do you have a real life?"

Kaiser in shock. Then in rage. And then in admiration.

• You’re not afraid to be yourself, and it’s driving him crazy. You don’t walk - you fly in. You don’t talk - you throw sparks.

• And he, the king of the scene, suddenly realizes that he wants to be there. Because no one else is making him lose control. And that’s true passion.

Alexis Ness

• You’re literally scaring him.

He’s sensitive, anxious, slightly dependent. And you’re a natural disaster in human form.

• But you’re... kind. You don’t laugh at his sensitivity. You defend him. You say he’s cool, just too shy. You don’t pull it - you drive it, but always turn around to make sure it’s there.

• It starts to stretch. Slowly, like a plant to the sun. You are its sun.

• He falls in love the moment you’re at a party, standing on a table, yelling a song, and then jumping down - right into his hands. And he catches. And holds.

Mikage Reo

• You appear in his life as a color bomb with the effect of "explosion of happiness".

• Re is used to managing the situation, directing the conversation, shining - and then you burst: jump on stage, beat up speakers, dance under a street guitarist, drag him by the hand, meet half-naked skateboarders and say: «Now it’s your friends, smile!»

• At first, Reo is agitated - his reputation, style, aesthetics! But then... then he starts to like it.

You paint his world as if it had a neon in it. He laughs, how long has it been since he laughed. You infect him with your life.

• He can’t control you, and that’s what he likes. And one day he just watches you arguing with a police officer on roller skates, and thinks, "This is mine. My bright disaster."

Nagi Seichiro

• First you piss him off to his heart’s content. Loud, agitated, impatient. He just lay down, and you already call him for a party at the abandoned theater. He’s playing a game, and you’re pulling the gamepad to look at some moon outside.

• You keep him busy. And he’s... starting to like it.

• You warm up his cold interior. He starts getting up early to meet you. He starts making steps towards you, even when tired. Because you’re spring, and he wants to bloom.

• When you climb to his couch and say: «Come on, there is streaming storming supermarket», - he does not argue. Just takes the jacket. And smiles.

Itoshi Rin

• You are his troubled dream, embodied in man.

He tries to keep his distance. But you don’t back down. Shout his name through the stadium, invade his routine, shove candy, meet people he doesn’t need at all.

• He says, "Stay out of it," and you laugh: "It’s late, I’m already here."

You are a storm that is destroying his ice cocoon. And he begins to notice that he no longer hides. That he wants you to come again.

• He falls in love when you’re fooling around in front of him and are not afraid to be yourself.

You make him live, not just exist. He’s angry at himself for smiling at you. But it won’t stop.

Itoshi Sae

• You’re tearing him apart.

He’s used to being an observer, appreciating finesse and balance. And you’re just an explosion of emotion. You invade every situation as if you were made for chaos. Your voice is the background to all his memories.

• You have no filter, no brakes, no plan. And that’s what turns the soul on.

• You tease him, tease him, twist his words inside out. He responds - cold at first, then witty, then too often.

• Sae falls in love the moment you ask him to dance on the street and suddenly hug him. This is the first time someone has taken it, not waited for it to be allowed.

You are a challenge. His challenge.

Shido Ryusei

• You are the only person whose energy he doesn’t want to suppress, but rather devour in order to become even brighter.

You’re wild. No brakes. Loud, bold, you go to the craziest places, hang out with crazy people, get into fights.

He’s not pushing you away. He’s walking with you. Finally, someone is not afraid!

• You laugh when he makes a mess. You push him into an argument. You’re as crazy as he is.

• He doesn’t fall in love with you - he falls in love with the way you break the frame. You’re not just a partner. You’re his chaos. His element.

• And if anyone dares to stop you - Shido will dust that person.

[youthereader]

Echoes in the Dark part 1.

PAIRING: joel miller (the last of us) x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1k words. Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient.

RATING: eventually E (no smut in this part). age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel is in his 60s). heavy angst, grief and loss of a child, graphic violence.

A/N: A fix-it fic. Reader is Joel's carer as he recovers from Abby's attempt on his life.

Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient. You rise with the sun and eat breakfast in your empty kitchen and hear your neighbors make their way through their mornings, and by 8AM you’re letting yourself into Joel’s house. 

You take your time with a key, after you knock and call out. You want him to have fair warning before you barge into his room. The first time you used the key, he asked who the fuck gave it to you. It was unsurprising he acted like he was violated, but due to his condition, there was no way you were making him come to the door every time you came by. 

This particular morning, you walk into his room and find his bed empty, the blankets pushed aside. Panic rises in you and you call out again, picturing him on the tiles in the bathroom. You race there, heart hammering as you find it empty, too. You run into the garage and find him leaning against a shelf with a bag under his arm. His robe covers his pyjamas, but he’s barefoot. The door knocks against the wall since you burst in, your eyes wide as you take him in.

“Hi,” he grunts, giving you a half-glance.

“You’re… up,” you say, and he looks away. 

“Yeah.”

You stare at him as he begins to hobble towards you.

“I ain’t sitting around just because-”

“It’s literally doctor’s orders,” you snap. 

Joel manages to push past you, leaving you to shut the door behind you. He hops a little, not putting his weight on his injured leg. 

“That’s not a compelling enough argument for me,” he retorts, and you glare at his back. “I’ve got shit to do.”

You spy sweat on the back of his neck. It’s a monumental effort for him to move right now. He’s only been in his own bed for three days. Before then, his hospital bed for two weeks. And before that, he was in a coma because Abby almost beat him to death. 

He stumbles and you lurch forward, grabbing his elbow to steady him, then you duck under his arm to help him stay upright, your adrenaline pumping. You’ve never touched him without asking before, or giving him a chance to prepare for it first. You half expect him to push you away because you’d believe he’s that stubborn. 

You stay still, and he finally leans into you with a sigh. 

“I’m fine-”

“They saved your leg,” you murmur. You look straight ahead as you say this, not wanting to lose your nerve. “Do you know what happens if you fall hard enough?”

You don’t wait for him to reply, finally looking up at him, not before steeling yourself for the emotional onslaught of looking Joel in the eye. 

“You lose that leg. All that time and effort and resources are wasted. Is that a compelling enough argument for you?”

His lips part and you watch him stare back at you, sweat gathering at his forehead. He says nothing so you steer him toward his couch and help him sink into it. You crouch beside him, softening your voice. 

“Whatever it is, it can wait. You need to rest.”

Joel pulls in a breath, not agreeing with you, but too tired to argue. You rest on your heels. He wants to be useful, and since Jackson was infiltrated everyone has chipped in as much as physically possible. Since he’s not warming to you, you switch tactics.

“Joel.”

He blinks at you, brow no longer furrowed. He’s breathing heavily. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you say. 

-

It was Maria’s idea for you to look after Joel. She specifically wanted you for what you thought were obvious reasons - you were content with isolating yourself too much for her liking. He wasn’t like you didn’t contribute. You did your fair share, you were always polite, but in the two years since you came to Jackson, you hadn’t been particularly close to anyone. 

Being brought in alone, you were put with another woman who quickly shacked up with another refugee. Your story wasn’t the same as most families. You had little choice when it came to staying here, and you’d tried to escape a couple times, only to be brought back “for your own good” as Maria put it. 

It used to bother you, being confined like this, but you began to enjoy waking up in a bed, and having clean clothes. Being partially domesticated. 

When Jackson was attacked, you helped in the hospital as best you could. You were learning in your spare time when you weren’t helping garden or look after the stables. You hoped to make it your job, a nurse in Jackson.

Joel came in after hours of non-stop chaos, patient after patient filling the beds. You could hardly keep up, but Joel drew a lot of attention during a brief lull. His leg was ruined, he was swollen and bloody, dragged in by Tommy and several others. Ellie was still conscious, sedated to stop her from reaching Joel and further injuring herself. 

Joel’s surgery was drawn out for hours and hours, the whole town holding its collective breath. He pulled through. Ellie sat by him for as long as possible, bandaged like he was, holding his limp hand, talking to him often. She acted like they were alone, crying more often than not, her voice wobbling as he begged him to wake up. More than once, she fell asleep by his side, her head resting next to her clasping hand. 

The day Joel woke up, you gently shook Ellie awake, wanting her to go back to her own bed. She sometimes complied out of exhaustion, but that day she resisted, twisting away from you.

“Just in case-”

Joel stirred and you froze, hands dropping to your sides. Then you turned and ran out, to get another nurse. As you returned, you found Ellie with her arms folded around Joel. When she pulled back to give him air, your eyes met his.

You don’t expect for it to hit you squarely in the chest, the feeling he gives you. There’s such intense relief; this is proof it was worth having hope. 

-

He gets up from the couch, taking the hand you offer him. You take him back to bed, and he settles under the blanket, sans robe. You feel him watching you as you look around, assessing his room.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“No, you’re not,” you retort, and he surprises you with a short laugh, a breath of a thing but undeniable. 

There’s the ghost of a smile as you spare a glance his way. 

“Yeah, I’m not,” he amends. “But I understand where you’re coming from.”

You want to roll your eyes. “I’ll get you a pair of crutches. The only reason we didn’t have them already is ‘cause I wasn’t expecting you out of bed so soon.”

He nods, seeming pleased.

“And then I’m gonna talk to someone about getting a table set up in here, something we can put over your bed,” you add, and he frowns. “You can work, but I don’t want you leaving this room again for it.”

lemme know what you think! I haven't posted for this fandom before so please be kind. 🥺❤️

PART 2.

[another-fantasy-world]

PLAYED

→ dark!wandanat x demon!fem!reader

word count ~ 1.2k

summary: desperate for some reprieve from your office job in hell, yes as in bible hell, you answer the call from a summoning ritual. you don’t even doubt the way the summoning ritual is done perfectly. you emerge from hell, only to find your own doom.

authors note: another wandanat fic??? i’m floored. please, have mercy on me, i’m still trying to get my creative juices out and this might fucking suck... anyone want a part 2?

content warning(s): non-con, smut? (not really), definitely smut, some fluff, chains made of magic, claiming via marks, summoning ritual, blasphemy, wuhluhwuh!!!, kinda pathetic reader, reader acts like a wild animal, reader is regarded as entertainment, reader is a pet, blood, brainwashing.

═════════════

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Blessed land dwellers of this era aren’t supposed to even have the knowledge of your kind. At least not this much. Not enough to make you want to flee. 

And you did. 

You tried everything to go back home, your realm, your safe haven despite it being the literal hell from the bible. 

Demons aren’t supposed to be frightened by those who walk the Earth, and yet you’re downright terrified. Realizing you can’t go back home, you scurried into the shadows, running like an insect. You ran through forests, cities, tundras, fields, everywhere just to escape them. Yet no matter how far you run, their presence prick your skin; searing hot, painful, and anxiety-inducing. 

Damn it. You should’ve let any other demon answer the damn summoning. What you thought was a simple way to pass time and escape your office job for a few years, ended up with you running away for your damn life. Lady Death was already a pain in the ass to deal with behind the desk, you can’t even begin to imagine the shame you’ll feel when she comes to get your soul for the second time. 

“Fuck!” You cursed loudly, narrowly avoiding something that made your instincts go crazy. Risking a peek, you saw that it’s wrapped in a scarlet hue that only made your blackened heart beat faster than it did. 

You feel your fiery lungs burn than ever before, as if the hellfire within burned brighter. Every painful breath fueled the punishment heaven gave, the roaring fire within your body flickers with glee the more you suffer. The grass you tread on feels like spikes stabbing you with every hurried step you took, the tall trees you weave through feels familiar, as if you’ve seen them before, the only difference is that they felt more ominous. It was then you realized it. 

Everything has a slight scarlet hue. A glow your desperate eyes didn’t register. A detail that made your breath hitch. A mistake that made you stumble, falling right into their trap. 

“Over already?” The slightly bored drawl sent shivers down your spine down to your tail, the appendage lifting right up like a startled cat, its sharp edge pointed towards her as if acting like the last defense. 

“Feisty thing.” Another chuckled, the sound ringing in your ears, the ringing is louder than God’s trumpets. It sends you spiralling down the abyss. 

Your teeth are clenched, bared right at them as you feel a resounding growl rumble in your chest. The trees bristle before they go still, as if all the air was sucked out. You feel goosebumps crawling over your skin like phantom insects, their gaze feel heavy, the scent of rain, peanut and gunpowder mixed with orange peels, ash, and something metallic. Their smell alone violates your whole being, you feel as though you’re being devoured whole despite them still being quite a few inches from you. Your senses tingle, sensing the danger lurking in those mesmerizing orbs of theirs. 

With a deep breath, you will yourself to get up. Fucking get up and run. Run. Run until hellfire swallows you whole. You’d rather the natural law of Hell burn you than perish by their hands. Your arms tremble with fear, your legs shake with exhaustion, your sweat drips down, as does your tears, they drip down and land on the land beneath, searing the soil like acid. 

You tried. You tried so desperately. Yet, like a quivering wild animal, you wind up bound and lifted up like a prize. The scarlet wisps feel ice cold on your hot skin. You sobbed, feeling the redhead’s hands on you. Her hands seemingly unaffected by your temperature as she inspects you, appraising you carefully. 

“Lyubimiy, are all demons this pathetic?” The innocent question makes you bristle, your indignation flares up even more as the brown haired witch chuckles darkly, the darkhold appearing before her, the pages flipping automatically, as if the book responds to her will.

“No, but this one is.” She smirks, leaving the corrupted book suspended in the air as her blackened fingertips reach out to grip your chin.

“Perfect.” She whispers, as with a flick of her wrist, you’re back to where you ran from. It’s as if you never left.

“Because you never did, Zayka. You just thought you did. I never tampered with a demon’s mind before, I’m satisfied to know that it’s not much different than ours.” She muses, her lover by her side as you’re trapped within the confines of an ancient spell. The spell manifests as shackles, scarlet red and inky black in color. It binds your body to the wooden floor, your heat makes the material black yet it never fully burns through. You struggle fruitlessly, your body wriggling desperately yet it only makes the spell stick more, chains burst out from the characters etched on the wooden fibers, wrapping around you like a deadly cocoon as you gasp for air, which only made the fire burn more, leaving you crumpled and weak. A heaping mass of sin, ash, and flesh on the floor. 

You lifted your gaze, your eyes landing on them, their figure looming over you as if you were a mere pet. If circumstances were different, you could definitely see yourself fawning over them. Yet that dream was long over. It was over before it started. It was over as soon as their mark was branded on your skin. 

They offer you no words as they treat you like entertainment. The witch conjures up a comfortable couch in front of you. Pulling the assassin down to sit on her lap, their bodies flush against each other as they drown in each other, as they drown you out, ignoring your very existence. They touched each other with such fervor that it makes your body heat up more. You hate that you now crave their touch, their affection, their approval. You hate that the hellfire burns within you, burning more and more as your arousal grows. Your suffering upon seeing them get lost in each other without you. Their blatant neglect over your presence has your mark pulse with need. You whimpered when they pulled away from each other, an instinct pulled from you by the mark that scarred your skin. You find yourself biting your lip, blood drips down your chins, dripping down to the chains binding you before pooling on the floor. You panted, growled, and thrashed against your binds. No longer knowing whether you want to escape it to flee, or to please your captors. 

The lines blur when desperation and lust mix, you noted. The lines blur when your eyes glow red. The lines blur when you realize you’d rather stay than to go back to your mediocre demon life of punishment. The lines blur when you realize your sentence doesn’t get shorter even if you work your ass off for the heavens above. The lines blur when they touch your skin tenderly. The lines blur when they smirk against your skin. The lines blur when their fingers dance across your features. The lines blur when their curious hands brush against the spikes protruding from your spine as well as your tail. The lines blur when you find your growls turn into whimpers. The lines blur when the shackles free you from their hold and the first thing you did was crash your lips on theirs.

You’ve waited your whole life for a chance at heaven, yet they effortlessly brought you there.

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

Just seeing the sheer amount of western "intellectuals" justifying, ignoring or even glorifying the undefensible these past few years since october 7th just makes me think about the careless people quote from the great gatsby, and it all just seems completely lost on them. I see people so convinced of their own intelligence and moral highground that they don't realize they are a walking talking contradictory hypocrite. It's the same thing as western intellectuals back in the day propagandizing for the soviet union before the fall of the berlin wall when they couldnt deny the human rights violations anymore, the same as that same batch of intellectuals glorifying the mao cultural revolution that killed millions before they couldnt deny the atrocities anymore. It's a pattern that keeps repeating because they seem to value their beautiful sounding ideas way more than the horrible reality they create, only because they have the luxury of never coming face to face with them. It's the same as rich people wanting to defund the police (instead of reforming/bettering it) while they themselves live in safe gated communities where they won t feel the consequences of it. The cheering on of hamas as 'liberation' while they are actively oppressing the palestinians that they claim to care about it's just-

"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy- they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made."

Exactly this. sorry for being so negative but looking at the world rn makes my heart sink, and i'm not even jewish myself, if this is how i feel i can't imagine how actual jews and israelis must feel

God, I couldn’t agree more - too many people glorify or celebrate the most horrific things because they’re not happening on their doorstep and they have the luxury of being removed from it all. Most of them have never known what it’s like to experience that kind of trauma and fear, to live a life under constant threat. It’s ignorance born from the privilege of safety. They’ll chant “Globalise the Intifada” and “Oct 7 was Resistance” because they can’t even fathom the horror of being blown up by a suicide bomber or gang raped and murdered by militants or held hostage and tortured for months simply for the ‘crime’ of where they live. It’s not something they’ve ever had to confront the reality of. They’ll even ignore the people they claim to care so very much about when they contradict their narrative. They treat actual human beings like characters in a story, to be easily categorised into “This Side is Good so nothing they do can ever be bad” vs “This Side is Evil so everything they suffer is because they deserve it.”

[ellieslittleburrow]

Requested by : @mymelodymia : you can't fall asleep. And clingy you needs to be around someone. Joel is -forced- to help. And Ellie is there to make sure you regret it.

Warnings : none, just internal swearing

Pairings : Joel Miller x daughter!reader /Ellie x platonic-sister!reader

----

It's been a few months since you've been traveling with Ellie and Joel. Your friendship with both of them has been developping smoothly. As well as their own with each other.

While on a nightly stop out in central wyoming, Ellie had taken watch so that you and Joel could get some sleep....Joel could get some sleep. His snores, as uneven as they were, pierced the space. And you couldn't sleep. Not because of the constant tiring irritating snoring, but just because you simply couldn't.

Giving up and getting out of the uncomfortably thin matress, you shuffle your feet, roaming around the cave and then out to find Ellie.

But she was walking away.

"Where are you going?" Your voice booms, causing Ellie to duck and turn around.

"Go to sleep, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Honestly....you do not know. You shrugged.

"Go back to bed, man."

"I can take over..."

"No. You already took watch yesterday. Go to sleep."

Ughhhh. There's no way you'll be able to fall asleep. You unfortunately knew yourself too much. Nothing could stop that irritating feeling of wanting to be close to someon-

Hmmm.....

You head towards Joel, and stop a few inches away from him, squatting down to get closer to his face. You didn't want to scare him(no. You'd love to scare him but his fast reflexes would have you end up with a broken neck)

"Joel.." you whispered. But no sign of life from the man. So you tapped his shoulder, starting gently and going harder and harder, violating his shoulder until he huffed.

"What?"

You fidged, shrugging. "Nothinng." It sounds more like a question and Joel goes silent.

"Then why are you waking me up?"

You go quiet yourself...darting your eyes away from him even though the moon was straight behind you, meaning that all was lit BUT your face.

"Mmmm....well...."

"Spill." The man seems to be impatient.

"Can i...i can't sleep. Can i sleep with you-"

"No."

Uh-but you haven't even finished your sentence.

"Hear me out, joel-i"

"No. No. No. Go back to the other room and force yourself to sleep. It's much safer there anyways."

You slouch your shoulders. "But i don't caaare...i want to sleep here." You sternly argue, having made the decision that tonight, you choose.

"No." Joel says again as he shifts his head for a better sleeping position. "Now let me sleep."

"Okay then." You respond, sitting down on the ground. "Then i wont stop talking until you change your mind." You cross your arms over your chest, your brain fishing for things to blabber about for as long as it will take.

If you can't sleep, might as well benefit from your free time.

And then you start blabbering, about random things like the sky....the cold...El-

"Okay."

Well, that was quick. You think.

Joel shifts his body to the side, reaching for the space behind before he pats it and you hop over him and lay beside him, your back facing his.

You grin, quickly accomodating yourself to a comfortable position.

"Sleep." Joel commands but....you can't. The warmth radiating out of his body is too damn comfy. You might not be...in his arms. But you haven't been this close to him ever. And it feels....good. You don't think you'll fall asleep anytime soon...although..your eyes are suddenly feeling heavy...Damn...how long as it been since you've felt such physical and mental warmt-......

----

"Wakey wakey little missy."

Snatched out of a beautifully blurry dream, your eyes violently open to a blinding light, causing you to shut them even more violently.

Hell....what in the f-

"Look who's finally up."

You might be deeply disoriented from the sleep you've just been kidnapped from, but that annoying little voice will never be one you can't easily recognize. Not only is it the voice but it's also the sacrcastic tone of-

"Ellie, what the hell do you wan-"

You squint to find yourself staring at a horizontal Ellie. You proceed to move but a pair of hands turn out to be wrapped around your chest. You try to free yourself but the arms around tighten their grip, causing a quick panic to set-

You spin your head around, meeting a pair of half closed eyes-you're envelloped in Joel's arms-

When did that happen?

"Joel." You gently nudge the man's stomach, earning yourself a groan. "Joel let go of me." Your voice is as low as it can get. It's not a whisper, it's just a worried tone. Worried about the crippling smirk painted on Ellie's dumb fucking face.

You know her well enough to know what she's thinking about and you just-you can-

"Joooell...."Your roar comes out as a whine.

A deep inhale tickles your ear and Joel seems to be annoyed but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

"Let gooooooo....."

Your eyes search for something to fixate on as your face flushes red. You're embarrassed and you want to hide, but Ellie's....persistent. and Joel doesn't seem to want to l-

"Nope." He doesnt seem to want to let go.

"Joel, shes gonna be making fun of m-"

"No. You're stuck here." He groans, stretching his body without letting go of you. "She'll make fun of you wether you're in my arms or not, better take the ooportunity and enjoy this new pillow i got for free." Your da-Joel's voice is soft and reassuring.

And deep down, you'd rather he stays like that forever....You know what? Fuck Ellie.

You turn around, facing his chest. You're still too shy to look up, but this- his earthy(stinky) shirt and the soft puffing of his chest as he inhales-this..is enough for now.

"Mmmmm." You whine, keeping that annoyed salty tone to not have them know....but..they know. And it's not really that much of a problem. You just....like being in your dad's arms and you want to enjoy the moment.

-----

Hiiii babe! I really really hope you like this. It was really fun to write. But wtf is that ending omg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for your sweet comments 🪷🪷🪷

[motheroffeline]

Infatuation (pt. 1)

18+ minors dni, extremely dark, Aaron Pierre x OC! psychopath! Photographer! black reader Ari, smut, lots of stalking, explicit language, blackmail, dubious consent, omniscient POV, french kissing, oral (f receiving), and masturbation.

Summary: Ari works as a professional photographer for Aaron Pierre and is responsible for most pictures of him that have gone viral. But she finds herself completely fascinated with him to the point of obsession. She began to debate on how to have him completely to herself and then the light bulb came on: fool him with innocence and strike. On the road to darkness with the path already drawn out, Ari knew that the vanta blackness of the night belonged to her own soul.

Taglist: @kaylalb

Why was the world so full of things that were essentially unobtainable? The very essence of what one wanted could lie at their feet but stooping down to get it is where the problem arose. Just as an image said so many words there was really nothing to be said and, in that moment, the world felt silent any who. Malevolence lurked so openly in corners that people walked by and talked to it. Just as one could talk to it, the invisible but present malice could walk into bathrooms and bedrooms to violate privacy. Just as eyes would close and clothes would fall down it would wait with a grin, lopsided eyes trying to instill the image into its brain. Malice and malevolence went hand and hand but interchangeably they destroyed the soul contracts of the forgiving without mercy.

...

"One! Two! Three! Four!" Ari could barely push through the fourth set of crunches before she was completely winded. But, today, was special: this would mark her third year of working for Aaron and Ari wanted to be in tip top shape. She knew that the universe had to put them together because both of their names started with an A. I mean what else could it be? Her muse had walked into her life like a wandering elk in lone woods.

Through Aaron, she had purchased her first home which was considerably modern and had more than what she needed to live on. It was in a less populous part of town as well which gave all the privacy a young woman could need. A phone ringed distantly in the background, distracting Ari away from her thoughts.

Thinking it was Aaron himself; Ari made a mad dash to the phone only to find out that it was Alyssa, a longtime friendship that formed when she was going to school in long island.

"Wake yo ass up, Ari!" Said Alyssa who always spoke as though she was deaf. One of those types of people were always there for their friends through thick and thin; Ari loved the loud woman like a sister and could say that she was the second person in the world in which she truly adored.

"Alyssa, you so fucking loud it's not funny. And, yes, I am going to an event and guess who gonna be there?" Ari liked to mention Aaron at every interval because it meant she had a chance to improve her fantasies of him. At a moment's notice he could worm himself into her mind and even the slightest suggestion of intimacy from him would send her into a fit of lust.

"You mean that sexy, lightskin motherfucka? Shitttt, you lucky to even be that close to him. From all of the videos and stuff I see him of him he looks really shy which is kinda unfortunate because he's fine shyt. I high-key think you'd fuck him even if he was mute, Ari." Alyssa giggled at Ari's defensive words on the other line because she knew of her friend's obsession more than anyone else. Not the extent of her passions but from the root in which they grew -- Alyssa knew only that.

Arousal spread through Ari as she began to visually imagine the cute smile of Aaron and the juxtaposition his eyes provided in the photos she took of him. There was an awareness during the third year of working for him that came about: the utter fascination that turned into grotesque wanting. Hearing his laugh and being an audience to his visage is what turned Kari into a monster: Alyssa nor anyone else could know of her true nature.

Ari had possession of pictures where Aaron was fully naked, she had taken pictures of his social security number and had typed countless emails out just in case he denied her proposal in the coming two or so hours. The way of attainment was so disgusting and muddled with faux innocence that it would stain even the purest image formed of an individual: Ari swiftly hung the phone up on Alyssa. After 8 years of friendship, she had never purposely slammed the phone down in her friend's face, but Ari knew after that in a lot of ways she was not the same person anymore.

Bright colors disturbed her, so she decorated her house in mild and sometimes even dull colors. Additionally, regular masturbation did not do it for her anymore. If she didn't have a vibrator buzzing on her clot, a dildo in her pussy, pictures of Aaron laid out on the bed and porn playing in the background then she would not orgasm.

Ari's phone buzzed on the counter to let her know that the time for the event was closely approaching, and it sent a ravishing feeling through her: he would hate her forever or he would hate her forever and accept the offer. It was his fault to trust a random strange woman that he had met off of a website, it was his fault to conceptualize her as the young apprentice so eager to learn.

A cup of black coffee sat next to Ari as she gulped it down. The shower was running in the bathroom as she let the caffeine dull out the most extreme of her emotions. As she settled, Ari stripped herself naked, letting the soap wash her but never truly washing away anything at all. No matter how clean the skin or flawless the body she had there was an apparent discord lying beneath the clean interior. Deciding that her hair would look better out of her face, Ari braided her curls into five braids. She opted for a bodycon dress that left nothing to the imagination because it would inspire any men's eyes to look even ones like Aaron's....

1 Hour Later....

Ari was standing awkwardly amongst her fellow photographers as though she had walked into the wrong building. Aaron was so busy greeting people that he had not even noticed her arrival which, admittedly, made her a bit angry. But soon after he made his way over to Ari and her eyes wandered to his dick which always seemed to be swinging so heavy in his slacks and in his joggers. Did he even wear underwear?

"Ari, it's so good to see you! I was just telling Brianne, you know her, right? She does some really good editing and I was just thinking that you know how outside and indoor lighting works so you two could be a pretty good team." The adorable look on his face only further pushed the dark agenda in Ari's heart, aboding the beast but with an innocent look Ari spoke to her muse and said, "I think that I'll go solo for a while because I want to try out this new project and I find it rather stimulating. Honestly, I'm scared that people will take my idea and run with it because I don't think no one has done this before."

Aaron's eyebrows scrunched in curiosity and Ari had half the mind to fuck him through the marble floor of the venue right then and there.

"Oh, an upcoming project you say. What exactly does it entail?"

"I know it sounds a bit weird, but I think I should tell you in private because of how innovative it is. Would you mind joining me in the right-wing room for a second?" Ari could only pray that he would bite the bate that she waved in front of his face because if he didn't, she didn't know what she'd do to herself. She had brought the computer that held all of the blackmail pictures, and she was waiting for the currency that he would pay to her: his body.

"No, that actually sounds pretty smart, Ari. I'm pretty busy right now with all of the other guests and the guy that owns the venue keeps calling me about what time we need to get out. Hopefully, his phone has lost battery from calling me, but I doubt it with that dude." The way his British accent would reveal itself had Ari flushed with Arousal.

"See you then?"

"I'll see you then, Ari."

To the dark...

The lights in the right-wing room were cut off leaving an impassive pitch-black room which only had a couch in it. Ari's laptop illuminated the room but never fully lit it giving off a wicked vibe. Perfume wafted off of her neck giving the room a smell of pine, cherry and palo santo which was the absolute balance of masculine and feminine. Aaron walked into the room and Ari instantly lifted her head up with a lecherous smile.

"Hello, Mr. Pierre."

"Huh, what's with the formalities? I wanna hear about that new idea you got... shit sounds pretty interesting. By the way, were the lights off when you came in here? Ugh, I told that asshole to pay the light bill because-" A loud laugh burst from Ari's mouth which interrupted Aaron in the midst of his speech about the possibly dodgy venue owner.

"Aaron, can I be honest?"

"Well, yeah, my momma always told me that honesty was the best policy. So, what is it, Ari? If the plan is a bust, then that's fine because we all make mistakes sooner or later. But, I'll be happy to hear it-"

"Fucking listen." Ari could almost smell the fear and suspicion coming off of Aaron like an expensive cologne, but she had to let the words that she had held in for years come forward through her red stained mouth.

"Ari, what's going on for real? You've never just cussed like that... You one of the calmest people I know." Aaron's voice had a slight tremble to which was indicative of how he'd react when she revealed what she could ruin him with.

"Aaron, I'm going to be very descriptive in how I phrase this: I have pictures of you, so many pictures that they never could be erased without finding more. There are some of you where you are naked, some with you masturbating because I've snuck into your house to get those. I also have your financial information, that I've also got backed up on multiple sources. Your family -- I have some information of theirs as well and did you know what I can do? Besides creating perfect picturesque visuals I can also forge stories like a playwright, I can fuck you over really, really well..." Ari's voice deepened as she elongated the syllables in each word, she spewed to Aaron who was mortified by the passing second. Then, for added effect, she turned the laptop around to show him all of the different photos in which she owned.

"This has to be some type of sick fucking joke, Ari. You that fucking desperate you gotta go ruin my life on some shit?" His voice was trembling with the magnitude of the situation because he had trusted Ari and saw her as a relative because of how reliable and trustworthy she was.

"Aaron, I've wanted your ass for a long time, and you never even knew. That's why I gotta do drastic shit to you. But I'll give you an out to such a horrible end... If you have sex with me, I'll get rid of the information and then you can forget you ever saw me again. But, if I see my name on the news I'll have you dead in about three days because I'm constantly connected to fucked up people like me. So, is it a yes or a no? I need to know an answer right this second so I can notify my people to start digging your grave."

Aaron looked at Ari with a mix of disgust and disappointment with a glare so sour it looked like he could kill her with his bare hands. "Your people? You mean the voices inside your head you crazy bitch! I can't even fucking believe it. I gotta fuck with you because you lonely? So damn bold to sneak into somebody's house and take pictures of them but you can't even ask for sex without threatening somebody." Aaron's voice growled with pure hatred but was low enough to not alert anyone.

"Fuck me or see your life in shambles... Your choice. I know so many women that'll buy your pictures in a heartbeat and then you'll be on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr-."

"Okay, I get it! What do you want me to do first, Ari? I still can't believe I hired such a crazy slut..." His voice held such contempt that in some way it made Ari feel a little guilty but she swept it under the rug. On the other hand, Aaron grimaced at the arousal that was quickly building in the pit of his stomach.

"Eat my pussy." Ari said with a blunt voice and a blank expression on her face which was a 360 from her passionate threats prior.

"Crazy, you just crazy Ari. What the fuck...." Aaron got on his knees as Ari started to pull off her bodycon dress and panties.

His tongue immediately darted forward and licked her from clit to hole and she let out a low mewl.

"For such an evil bitch you sure do taste like honey." He buries his tongue in her hole, in and out, in and out stroking her g spot.

"Mmmmmm Aaron t-thank you.... F-fuck... I'm sorry..." Ari begins jumping his face as his eyes peer into her trying to decipher who he thought was an angel in human form. His tongue swirls around Ari's soaked clit like a curious tentacle, pushing back the hood and sucking it between his teeth like a hard candy.

"I was even thinking of asking you out one day Ari. I always thought you was cute and shit... Never thought we'd get together like this.... Never thought you'd be a bitch either but here we are..." He speaks against her folds and she moans as the vibrations from his baritone voice rattle her dripping core.

"Goddamn... What about everybody else up in there? You don't think nobody gonna hear us? Oh God, yes, right there..." Ari's voice goes hoarse from pleasure as he grinds his nose against her clit.

"Mmmmmm, when did you ever care about shame? This room is so far down the hall that nobody could hear us. Music playing in the background too so I don't think they'll be too worried. I told them I had some matters to attend to so they won't look for me either. Is that all you need to know Ms. Blackmailer? Your pussy squeezing my tongue...." Ari practically drools at the sound of his voice as he devours her like a Michelin star dessert.

Aaron notices the visual pleasure evident on Ari's face and blows raspberries into her pussy, flicks the hard nub of her clit and gently nibbles on it just to get her to fall apart. In truth, he never expected Ari to be so bold... She was certainly a different person when it came to what she wanted. But, putting his family into it made him feel some type of way about the whole ordeal... Made it seem more dangerous to even be dealing with her but he got on his knees anyways. Who knows what she'll do next?

Ari's hips gyrate as she reaches the peak of her pleasure. "I'm gonna cummmm, ohhhh I'm gonna cum on your long ass tongue... Yes, yes eat me like that.... Mmmm like that- ahhhhh!" Ari let out a scream as she squirted all over Aaron's face, soaking him in her essence.

She quickly drops on her knees and begins kissing him in a sloppy manner completely catching him off guard. There was flight, fight and freeze and he found out which one he was right there in that dark room with Ari. Her tongue hugged his and she stuck most of her tongue down his throat loving the sounds of his gags.

Ari pulls back completely and stares at him for what appears to be minutes on end before finally saying in an utterly dark voice that read a dismal future for Aaron: "Trust me when I say this won't be the last time between the two of us. You're handsome and you're in the palm of my hand. In other words, I can't wait to discover every inch of you."

[libertyybellls]

married fluffy life with finnick??

YES! i see all of your guys inbox and comments and i will very much write this to heal you from “knew the game and played it” very sorry about that! but i very much love this idea!!!

i have a honeymoon with finnick posted but i think genuine married life w him is different.

-

married life with finnick is going to be no short of a dream, this is after the games have been destroyed, you both live in a little house by the shore. and i say little house because he doesn’t care for the glitz and glamour like the victors village did.

all finnick needs is you, the ocean, and your kids.

dad!finnick i can see with little boys, probably aged five and two.

you’ll sit in the sun with your youngest, admiring finnick who’s trying to teach your oldest boy how to surf, desperately trying to pop his little body up on the surfboard.

but earlier in your marriage, when it’s just the two of you, it’s you he’s trying to teach how to surf.

“finnick, how am i supposed to stand up on a board when it’s wet and slippery?” you whine as he has you sat on the surfboard, walking you out through the still water to the waves.

he only laughs at you, “i’m sure thousands of people in panem have figured it out baby, you will too. just go on- i’ll tell you when to pop up.” he cheekily taps your ass with a wink, sending you off once you’ve reached the waves.

once you’ve finally- somewhat- rode the wave he meets you halfway in the water, his hair is wet when he meets you. finnick pulls you into his body, “good girl, i know you’ve got it!” he kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then moves to your lips- further pulling your body into his as the water around you crashes waves.

you taste the salt on his lips, the devotion in his kiss, he kisses away all your fear- and he blesses the gods that your fear now was only of falling into the water upside down- not of death, or violation.

i also think that yes, the nightmare would still plague you the coming yours after the games ended, he’d had his fair share that you wouldn’t hug him through, whisper sweet nothings in his ear until he fell asleep, you’d tell him his worth and that nothing he’d done would define him, he had no other choice and he was just a scared kid.

you’d wake up a handful of nights screaming, hiding your muffled cries into your pillow.

he’d stretch, snake his arms around you- holding your sweaty body still as sobs wreck your soul, and his.

each cry you let out pains him, “i know baby. i know, sweet girl.” his voice is comparatively deeper due to his short awakening.

-

master list

[strwberrytae]

Beyond Desire | 05

→ pairing: taehyung x reader → rating: 18+ only - m for mature - sexual and graphic content → genre: drama / romance → words: 9.9k → disclaimer/trigger warning: this is a piece of fiction based off of the fifty shades of grey series. this is not a parody. there are mentions of strong dominant and submissive lifestyles based on research and personal experience. there are also various psychological issues that are addressed throughout the series; including anxiety, self-destruction, blood, bruises, panic attacks, childhood abuse, non-consensual sexual acts and self-harm. this is a work of fiction and not to be taken as a promotion of the series, fifty shades of grey. this is an original piece of work. edit is created by me. enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated.

→ a/n: thank you everyone for their patience! so much! I started this series years ago with the intent to continue it. life and lack of motivation got in the way, but it's made it's way back into fruition! this was frantically edited multiple times, though there still may be some errors. I hope you enjoy!

→ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 [series in progress - must read previous chapters]

→ summary: it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear Taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

The next morning, Joon Jae awoke at 6am as you realized he did every morning for work. You laid in his bed, so tired but awake. Your restless mind forbade you to sleep peacefully throughout the night. It was unclear how you felt, truly. Such an interesting feeling. 

All you knew is that you were stuck with the familiar dread of emptiness that you had experienced many times before. It felt as if you became a vessel overnight yet again whenever you've done this; letting men completely take over and dominate you in ways against your wishes as if it's perfectly normal. Not to say that’s what the BDSM lifestyle entails. In the past, you’ve had a bad run of Doms who didn’t truly grasp the concept of consent. Men who think they're dominant, on the contrary, they're just abusers. Looks like Joon Jae is just another one. The only thing to do now is play along until you figure out how to escape this - safely.

Joon Jae emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his damp, onyx hair with a towel and a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Morning gorgeous,” he greeted with his award winning smile. The term of endearment felt everything but. The word curdling in your ears. Turning over to face him, you put on a face as well as you always could; as if you hadn’t been utterly violated by this man the night before. 

“Good morning, sir,” you purred sleepily. The bitterness coated your tongue as the words came out. Whether or  not he caught on was not clear - most of them didn’t. As Joon Jae walked over to his black wooden dresser, you continued to lay on your side. Something caught your interest in the corner of your eye. Your gaze fell to your wrists. The handcuffs.

Upon your wrists were bruises from last night; a deep red color fresh in hue. It would certainly darken to purple throughout the day. You began to nibble on your bottom lip as you nervously checked under the blankets for more markings. Peppered on your hips remained fingerprints. They were not markings you were proud of - not like this. Bruises from the right person made you feel empowered, cherished. This was abuse of power - hatred. Your loathing for them grew rapidly; even though they've only just became a part of you.

“Why are you so quiet? Did I wear you out that much?” Nonchalantly, you place the cover back down as if you were only fixing it. Turning your head to face Joon Jae, he pulled on his boxers with an idiotic smirk on his face. His form was still beautiful, yet you were so disgusted by him now. Your eyes couldn’t help but to wander over his body; inspecting him. There was nothing - not a bruise or scratch. Here you lay in his bed completely marked and emotionally wounded by him and he gets to go to work without having to hide a single thing. Typical.

Letting out a big sigh, you sat up in the bed; making sure to cover your body with his gray silk sheets. Ever so slowly do you run your fingers through your hair and gracefully lick your lips to look as innocently seductive as possible. It was time to put on a show, and you were used to this performance. A sly smirk stretched on your face as your eyes became softer. After all, you still have some dignity left. That is something he can’t rob from you.

“And here I thought a little mystery to a woman was appealing. Does my silence bother you, sir?” Your voice slithered with seduction; hoping your little innuendo granted you his kindness with your performance. Joon Jae was a man after all, and you knew how to handle his type - call him Sir, Master. Obey, say please, submit. No matter what, or else. This was a man that got off feeling like he was the greatest thing on this Earth. A man who loved knowing that his submissive was actually afraid of him, displeasing him. To you? He’s the most disgusting person you have ever met. 

The dark haired man sauntered over to you, grabbing hold of your chin with his index finger and thumb. A soft yet firm gesture to make you look up at him without protest, yet it felt so putrid.

“Was that sarcasm in your voice that you heard,” he questioned in a quiet tone. And there it is. His lips were barely moving as he spoke; an indication telling you that he didn’t find your comment too cute after all. You subdued your flirtatious attitude and retreated back to what you knew best - submission.

“No sir,” you whispered in a soft voice. He hesitated before letting you go. After a moment of cringing silence, a smile appeared on his face as if he was just messing with you. Using fear to make you submit, and then flipping a switch - how sadistic.

“Good girl. Get up and get dressed. I’ll drop you off at work.” Fighting back every morsel inside of you, you swallowed your pride to obey. You need to come up with a plan when you’re in a safer place. As such, you responded as you always do, following his instructions with a charming smile on your face. 

Just as you suspected, the extra dress you brought with you came in handy as you anticipated staying the night. Your naked reflection in the mirror sent chills down your spine. Bruises peppered your skin with revulsion brewing inside of you . There were bags under your eyes as lack of sleep dragged them down. To put it mildly, you looked like hell. No matter how many times you've seen this sight from past failed relationships, the pain you felt in your heart still aches at the same intensity. You’re yearning for love grows more desperate. For real love.

A week’s time flew by as an absolute blur. To say you had quarantined yourself was an understatement - scared to face the world in your vulnerable state. You had completely submerged yourself into full submissive mode. It was all you could do to survive. The fear of what Joon Jae would do to you had clouded your mind as your dark thoughts took over. No matter how hard you tried to think of ways to part ways with him without retaliation, it was useless. There was a desperation coursing through you to reach out to Taehyung. No, you couldn’t. He would drop everything to aid you - fix the problem. It would be a burden. Instead, you carried on with your week as usual. 

Dealing with Taehyung was easy. Whenever he asked to see you for lunch, you were busy in meetings. Important meetings with clients were underway thanks to Jisoo making you as booked as possible per your request. Taehyung knows how dedicated you are to your work, and he has all eyes on any projects you’re working on. Nothing out of the ordinary for the new Commissioning Editor, right?

In all honesty, you were legitimately busy besides the tedious work you’ve added to your pile. Your contract with GQ Korea Magazine, Joon Jae’s magazine, was reaching its end which means long hours, lots of editing, and lots of problem solving. You promised them that by the end of the month, you would increase their profits via online and social media by forty percent. Your coworkers told you that it was too risky to promise such a big turnaround, yet that didn’t sway you. 

Typically, Kim Publishing worked with writers of novels, short stories, and more of the like. Occasionally, they worked with other companies that seeked better publication and production of their materials - online revenue. Working on this project ensured that while you were trying to remain distant from the world, you could see Joon Jae throughout the days without being entirely alone. Safe.

When he demanded your presence at night, you showed up at his apartment and gave him anything he wanted. Joon Jae did not hold back his passion for pain in forms of pleasure when you were together, but you had finally voiced for him to be cautious with marking you too much. Taehyung’s father’s charity ball was approaching, so requesting to avoid bruising wasn’t exactly unheard of. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from putting bruises in places he knew no one could see. 

As time progressed, you found yourself reaching a breaking point. Typically, you loved seeing marks tattooed on your body as a reminder of your nights of lust and dominance over you - but not with him. Every time you saw your Dom, you felt like you were going to be sick. Faking orgasms was getting harder each day. Although, as Joon Jae was a purely self-absorbed man, he didn’t really notice. 

At last, it was the day before the ball. Arrangements were made to leave work early so you could go home, and practice your song one last time before you had to perform it at the charity ball. You just wish you had the energy to be remotely excited about it. This was supposed to be your night to release your true feelings through the sound of music towards Taehyung. Although, here you were, in a relationship you couldn’t get out of. You're almost positive that Taehyung’s relationship with Yuri has only blossomed wildly this past week. Naturally.

When you arrived at your apartment, it was shortly after noon. Any other day, you would have grabbed lunch by now, but you've completely lost your appetite. It’s been like this all week. You've been surviving on ramyeon and espresso coffees all the while. Luckily, Joon Jae was going to be out of town today for an event, and wouldn’t be back until the ball tomorrow. You were relieved to finally have a whole day to yourself without twitching at the thought of him arriving at your doorstep any minute or ringing your phone. 

Once inside your apartment, it felt warm from the sun beaming inside of it. Perks of having a home with large windows in place of exterior walls. For once, you felt like you could breathe as you closed the door, greeted with silence. Your feet dragged you to the bedroom as you dropped your contents one-by-one on any surface you passed by on your way. Walking in a zombie-like state as your body starts to feel like putty, your body relaxes with each step. A hot bath would be absolute heaven right now; perhaps a glass of wine too. 

As you take off your cardigan, you hear something shift behind you. You turn around, gasping from shock before easing into instant relief and butterflies. It was your best friend standing there so casually.

“Jesus, Taehyung. You have to stop doing that. You almost gave me a heart attack. Honestly.” You clutch your chest with your hand over your rapidly beating heart. Although who knows if it’s because he scared you, or if this is just how your heart always beats around him. Likely the latter. 

Taehyung stood there, examining you. He didn’t say a word, but instead walked up to you blatantly looking you over you with a fiery gaze. And yet, in the same gaze seemed to be softness with concern. You had to subdue the inappropriate thoughts that instantly came to your mind. With a sense of security, and belonging that was not earned, your submissive side called out to his dominant side as he towered over you. He reached to cup your face, but you flinched ever so slightly by accident. This caused him to worry; melting to a sheepish stance. 

Taehyung’s touch had never bothered you before. He knew it was always platonically welcomed by you. At this moment, a look of hurt appeared on his face. With caution, Taehyung slowly proceeded to cup your face again, gently turning your head side to side as he looked you over. It was no secret that he was truly concerned about you. 

Out of shame, you couldn’t dare look him in the eyes as fear began to fill you; fear that he would see right through you. Taehyung released you, standing before you with a softer demeanor yet he still held a dominant presence. His aura made you want to run into his arms, but you refrained.

“Y/N, how long has this been going on,” he inquired in a low, calm tone. You pulled your oversized cardigan back over your shoulders to bring you extra comfort; suddenly feeling cold and uncomfortable. Just as your anxiety crept in, you noticed that Taehyung seemed fidgety in the slightest. He tried his best to hide it, but you can see his hands twitching inside his pockets.

“What do you mean,” you asked quietly as an attempt to hide your little secret. Swiftly, you move away from him to head towards the kitchen for the glass of wine that you desperately need right now. You could easily sense that Taehyung wanted nothing more but to stop you in your tracks. He suppressed the urge to interject as it wasn’t his place. His arm stopped abruptly as he removed his hand from his pocket, re-routing to “adjust” the hem of his shirt. He followed you to the kitchen casually. 

As you grabbed a bottle of merlot, pouring a reasonable amount for yourself, you took a deep breath. Following suit, you poured another for Taehyung as you know he would desire to join you. The first sip didn’t calm your nerves as much as you would have liked but the second one helped a little more. Taehyung took a respectful sip from the glass and maintained eye contact with you. His stare burns into your skin as you become flush with heat.

“Y/N. Answer the question,” he said in a firm voice. This time you looked up at him immediately without hesitation. Your submissive instincts take over as easily as they always do around him. Taehyung wasn’t dressed for work. Casual attire in loose jeans and black t-shirt; something that always looked good on him. You sighed softly as you realized just how much you missed him this past week. 

You’ve barely spoken, and you skipped out on your weekly therapy appointment with Yoongi. That’s probably why he was here. Therapists are supposed to keep client confidentiality unless you’re Kim Taehyung who seems to always get what he wants. It was ridiculously infuriating sometimes. It’s not like Yoongi flat out tells Taehyung information but he’s really good at pointing him in the right direction. Why does he even bother? Knowing that the inevitable conversation was about to take place, you took your glass and went back to your room. Taehyung flattened his pillow-like lips, and made way to follow you yet again. For someone that had so little patience, he always seemed to be wildly patient with you. 

“I told you I was busy this week,” you retorted with a shrug as you took another sip of wine, “I didn’t even have time to meet with Yoongi. Once this contract with GQ is done, I’ll meet with him, okay? If that’s your worry. You don’t have to interrogate me. Now, if you don’t mind, I was planning on taking a bath. Why don’t we catch up tomorrow at the party?” Your defensiveness took over like a prey-worthy animal in a corner - oversharing when caught. 

There was desperation in your voice that you could not hide so easily. Taehyung couldn’t hold back,  and reached out to grab your arm. He pulled up one of your cardigan sleeves in a quick motion, revealing the bruised lining around your wrist. You panicked to pull the sleeve back down and dropped your glass of wine. The red liquid spilled on the wooden floor as glass shattered around your feet. In the face of a small scare, you had never been so grateful as to not have carpeting. Red wine stains are the worst.

“Shit,” you whispered. You rolled your eyes as you took a step to get towels - frustrated with yourself. Taehyung stopped you in mid-step. His touch and rapid motion do not trigger you. The air stills. In the face of his dominance, you feel safe. Safer than anything and anywhere else in the world. His warm touch makes your legs weak.

“I’ll take care of it,” he lets out a sigh with worry. You bite your bottom lip, and look down at the ground to avoid his beautiful eyes - gentle almonds filled with care.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it,” Taehyung asked with calmness in his voice, evident with disappointment but primarily worry. He let out a frustrated sigh. Knowing exactly where you keep your cleaning essentials, Taehyung grabs the items effortlessly. His focus truly never leaving you.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? You promised that you would tell me if someone was taking advantage of you again so I could help you. How can I help you if you shut me out? Don’t you care about yourself? This is...” And then it happened, you shut down. Taehyung stopped himself from proceeding forward as he realized his overreaction wasn’t making you feel any better. What you really needed right now was comfort, not a lecture. 

The atmosphere stilled with silence as you fell into submission. Speechless with no words clouding your mind, and too timid to look him in the eyes. Everything went blank. He was right. Leaving him out of this was doing more harm than good, and yet here you were shutting down instead of running to him. Honestly, you didn’t know how to pull yourself out of your head. It was suffocating. Taehyung knelt before you as you spiraled. A soft breath escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” was all you could manage to say. A bashful response as you felt that you had  disappointed him. Internally, the inner demons you harbored convinced you that he was angry with you and would leave your side. Your best friend tilted his head to try to look at you. A soft, tender gaze looking at you with the sweetest smile on his lips. He reached to brush the hair falling near your eyes. Tears prickled your eyes as you melted into his touch.

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. That’s not what you needed. I put my worry and needs before yours when you’re clearly not in the right state,” he let out a soft sigh with worry evident on his face. 

“What can I do to help you trust me?” He took your silence as an answer, and looked over your covered body. He took notice that you managed to cover every possible inch of you, even on a warm day. Words remained silent on your lips.

“How bad is it,” he continued kindly, “Please. Share your pain with me. Let me in.” Just like that, he unraveled you. Every wall came crashing down as the desperation in his voice made you yearn for him. Suddenly, the words flowed from you so easily; from your first date to the first time he punished you, to the hard limits he abused. 

“I was going to text you the first night it happened but...I was too scared. I submitted to him in more ways than I wanted to. I felt so pathetic,” you looked at him with tears in your eyes, “Please don’t be upset with me.” Taehyung’s nostrils were flaring. He was trying so hard to contain his anger towards the man that abused his power over you. After a couple of deep breaths, he stood up and held his hand out to you.

“Come on. I’ll draw you a bath. We’ll talk about this once you get some sleep. You look like you haven’t slept all week,” he said in a low, soothing voice. As much as you wanted to protest, the mention of sleep made your eyes heavier. Delicately, you took his hand and nodded. With his arm around your shoulder, he led you to your bathroom. He knew where everything was and drew you a lavender scented bath - your favorite. After grabbing a towel, he turned to leave but stopped.

“N/N...can I see them? The marks,” you froze in place as his question made your cheeks burn. The marks on your body ranged from your wrists to the back of your hips, and the round mounds behind you. The crimson hue to your skin reached your ears. Taehyung has seen you naked before but that was by accident. One shower incident, not knowing he was inside your home as you danced to the kitchen to grab a snack. One very embarrassing incident - and he laughed. 

You know it’s nothing sexual, yet it’s still inadvertently intimate. Even stripping down to your underwear, you’d be so exposed to him. Surprisingly, you considered showing him, to be seen by someone else and feel validated that these marks are just as putrid as you see them. This boundary… Is it appropriate to cross it? He is your best friend after all - the person you trust most.

“The marks? They’re in private places, Tae. I don’t think Yuri would like that very much.” Taehyung stiffened and for once, he seemed slightly embarrassed. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to having a girlfriend and didn’t think about that. He took a step closer and handed you the towel.

“Yuri doesn’t control me,” he said in a stern voice but then softened, “You’re my friend and I- I need to see them. I need to know.” There was sincerity in his eyes. It almost seemed as if he was scared. Is he punishing himself for what happened to you? You've only seen this side of him once before. 

You were in the hospital after a bad session with one of your past Doms. Taehyung was away on a business trip for a week and when he came back, you were asleep in the gurney with several bruises and a cut lip. He thought you were asleep, but you could hear his tears and his apology for leaving you; promising he would never let this happen again. On the outside, you looked like you would be fine but he knew you wouldn’t be - not mentally. Perhaps this would be proof to him that this was real yet again. With a soft nod, you slowly began to undress.

Out of respect, Taehyung kept his distance; taking a step back as you did so. First your cardigan, then your knee length dress that hugged your curves - leaving you in your bra and underwear. Surely that would be enough for him to see the bruises that peppered your body - now shades of yellow, green, and brown. His eyes started making their way across your skin. You bit your bottom lip, and watched his gaze. It gave you chills in a way of vulnerability but also, arousal. Thankfully your bra was padded, otherwise he would be able to see how much his eyes affected you. Your nipples were erect, and your underwear damp with need. 

Desperately you wanted him to touch you - hold you. You wanted to feel his hands caressing your body in ways it’s never felt before. Somehow you knew that his touch would heal you. It would make you feel no pain, only happiness. Something fierce turned in you, and it took every ounce of your being not to speak up. Taehyung did something that surprised you. His coffee-brown eyes seemed darker or maybe it was in your imagination. 

He took a cautious step closer to you. His eyes remained on your hips where the worst bruises rested. On each side, beneath the black fabric that hugged your hips, bruises in shapes of fingerprints - marks of Joon Jae’s nails that had pierced your skin. Your breath became shaky as he stood before you. It was like he was hypnotized by your marks, yet you couldn’t read what was churning in his mind. He extended his hands and slowly reached for your hips. His fingertips brushed over your skin. His eyes moved to yours to look for a sign, expecting you to wince from pain or hesitation of his touch. Little did he know that his touch relaxed you beyond compare. 

“S-see...it’s not that bad,” you whispered as you met his gentle gaze. Something shifted in his eyes as your eyes locked, something you've never seen before. You weren’t sure what it was. Yet, he just stood there - unwavering his eyes.

“Taehyung-”

“I should go. I have to take care of something before the ball. Thank you…for showing me,” he said softly. You nodded as he released his gentle hold on you, leaving you cold and in need of his touch again. 

“Min-hyuk will pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I’ll be wearing a black mask. Come find me when you arrive, okay?” A lighthearted chuckle escaped you as he handed you the towel to cover yourself.

“A black mask in a sea of other masks? I don’t think that’ll be too hard.” He smiled back at your little joke, and left you alone in your bathroom. As soon as you heard the door closing faintly in the distance, you felt like you could breathe again. Your body was on fire as you could still feel his touch. It felt like electric waves coursed through your veins just in a few seconds. 

Turning to the warm bath that awaited you, the bath he drew for you, you sighed. When you discarded your bra, your nipples perked just as you knew they would. It was no surprise that when you eased your underwear down your legs, a string of arousal clung to them as your core remained swollen. As usual, the bliss of your own fingers, imagination, and a soothing bath will have to ease your ache for yet another night.

Not a single word out of Joon Jae today. It wasn’t unusual but since he was returning today from his trip, you figured you would have had a message from him with instructions for tonight. Although it’s not like you’re complaining. His silence is your saving grace.

As you sat in the back of Min-hyuk’s car, you watched the traffic as it rushed by. He looked in the rearview mirror to glance at you. Your mask wasn’t in place yet as there was no reason to hide your identity just yet. There was never a need for a divider between you as he was your friend as well.

“Miss Y/N,” he said from the front. Your gaze met his in the mirror and smiled in turn.

“Yes Min-hyuk?” Min-hyuk’s eyes flickered between you and the road to drive safely. He watched the road as he spoke.

“You look very beautiful tonight. I hope you smile a lot tonight. You deserve it, N/N.” His words made your heart skip a beat. Min-hyuk was like family to you. Almost like an uncle but more of a dear, old friend. He told you once that he hopes his daughter grows up to be like you, and that was the greatest compliment he could have given. Although, for both of their sake, you hope she becomes much better; stronger and wiser, just like her father. Min-hyuk stopped the car as he pulled into the Kim’s driveway. Grabbing your mask to put in place, you leaned forward to get closer to Min-hyuk. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Min-hyuk. Thank you.” He smiled back at you whilst trying to remain professional, he averted his gaze straight ahead. Various people in all colors and shapes cascading into the radiant home. So many elegant gowns with elaborate details to match the masquerade theme. A gentle thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist.

“Why don’t you go home? I can easily find a ride home. Besides, I’m sure your daughter would love to see you at a decent hour.” There was a sparkle of hope and admiration in his eyes that you couldn’t help but to adore. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll let Taehyung know I relieved you. I’ll take the scolding.” It was obvious that Min-hyuk tried masking his excitement but you could see right through it. With the slightest of smiles but the fullest heart, Min-hyuk got out of the car to open your door. You got out and stood by his tall, broad form.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he responded. Smiling at him, you squeezed his forearm gently.

“Have a good night, Min-hyuk.” With that, you sauntered off into the night to join the rest of the mysterious guests of Min-ho’s masquerade ball.

The Kim’s home, that had always been your safe haven, had transformed into a modern renaissance extravaganza. It was simply stunning. Hues of red and gold filled the room with chandeliers to add to the expensive tone. Jesters and performers of all kinds were scattered around the room to entertain guests as they walked by. From jugglers to a man swallowing a ball of fire as if it was water quenching his thirst. 

A smile appeared on your face in appreciation of how well the Kim’s always throw a party. It was over the top and yet they always spent more money than they pocketed in profit. It’s never about the money for such events, especially a charity event. This night is for underprivileged children in broken homes and drug addictions. A cause they have always been passionate about. It was admirable - and why you’re a part of their family today. 

Feeling confident as you glided into the mansion, you felt proud of your dress. You felt sexy. It was conservative yet not. The dress caught your eye ages ago, deciding to keep it for a special occasion. A golden dress with glimmering accents that made you feel radiant. Your bare skin peeking through the nude toned mesh material, from afar looking see-through in a teasing way. Sequins reflecting every light you pass under as if you were a walking piece of jewelry - not too tacky or gaudy. A delicate turtleneck with exposed shoulders to reveal your soft skin in contrast to the floor length gown. Caressing your hips and between your breasts was a sheer fabric that lightly exposed your skin, just enough to show you were not wearing a bra or underwear - not enough to give everyone a show. Fortunately, the material cupping your breasts was thick enough to hide the perk to your nipples as the dress was mildly stimulating. The ensemble you chose didn’t go unnoticed by the others at the party. People casually glanced your way, yet your head remained high as confidence coursed through you

A gold mask laid on your face well enough to hide your insecurities. It matched your dress in its sparkle and shine. There is just enough makeup for a natural, bronze look to pair evenly with your attire. With grace, you scanned the room as you walked through. The Kim’s decorated their home to look like a casino to allow people to gamble for a cause. People of all sorts spread throughout the home at blackjack tables, poker, craps, roulette, but also the dance floor. Smooth jazz played in the background as the live band and black tied man sang at the microphone. 

For the first time in a while, you felt unafraid and sure of yourself. At least until you saw something that made your confidence drop into the pit of your stomach. Taehyung entered the room with a silver dressed goddess on his arm - Yuri. She wore a silky dress that clung to her petite body. It was apparent that Taehyung bought it for her. It had his taste written all over it. Even you could tell that Yuri was a simple girl that didn’t like extravagant things. The dress suited her and you can’t deny that you don’t envy her for it. Although you love the dress you're in, a part of you wants to be in that dress instead - or perhaps, on Taehyung’s arm. Thankfully, Taehyung’s elegant mother approaches you, and gives you the distraction you desperately needed.

“Y/N! Oh my… You-,” she let out a sigh and smiled sweetly with tears in her eyes, “You look absolutely stunning, dear.” Sooyoung reaches you, immediately giving you a kiss on each cheek after a warm hug as she always does when she sees you. She looked stunning in her black dress. She always looked beautiful in such a warm way that made you feel nothing but comfort.

“Thank you, Sooyoung. You look beautiful beyond words as always. The party seems like a success as I knew it would.” Sooyoung smile, humbly brushing off your compliment. Letting out a pleased sigh, she looked around and nodded.

“You’re too kind, dear. It turned out very well. I can’t say I’m not proud.” At that moment, Taehyung and Yuri turned towards you to meet Min-ho, his father, to exchange a few words. You tried your best not to acknowledge the situation. Fortunately, a waiter walked by with a tray of champagne. Quickly taking a stemmed glass, you downed it without a problem. Sooyoung smirked and took a sip from her own that she gathered as well.

“I’m sorry to hear about Joon Jae, although I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” she said as she lowered her glass. This caught your attention. You cocked your head slightly as you lowered your glass to hold elegantly in your hand.

“Joon Jae? What do you mean?”Sooyoung almost looked amused at your question.

“Why do you sound so surprised? It’s been all over the news all day - the arrest. Surely, you heard about it,” she waited a moment before continuing, “Embezzling thousands of dollars for years is bound to catch up with a person. I must say, I had a bad feeling about him. At least now you don’t have to part ways in an uncomfortable way. Assuming you would be parting ways, that is.” Embezzling money? What on earth is she talking about? You tried your best not to seem too surprised. Instead, you nodded to agree with her. Thankfully, a couple approached her to grasp her attention; giving you an opportunity to get away. 

Out of your small clutch purse, you pulled out your phone. Your instinct told you to just search on Naver for Joon Jae’s name to see what came up. To your surprise, his name appeared instantly in a headline - “Ahn Joon Jae Hordes Thousands from GQ Korea Magazine”. Within the first paragraph, it described his crime; stating he stole money from the company through false stocks and bonds. An anonymous tip warned the authorities yesterday afternoon and he was arrested the moment he landed back in Seoul from a business trip. Something about this raised an alarm inside of you. You looked up from your phone to find Taehyung. He was deep in conversation with another couple with Yuri clinging to his side. 

A part of you felt upset by this, yet another part felt touched. The ultimate fear inside of you of the consequences from this couldn’t help but to surface. There was no doubt it was Taehyung. The situation was too perfectly timed. He had to take care of something alright, you thought. Joon Jae was a powerful man. Could Taehyung’s power overshadow his or would this come back to haunt you? Your thoughts were interrupted by a man in a tuxedo in a black and silver mask. This man was Ki-young, Taehyung’s older brother.

“Can our girl dress to impress or what? N/N, you look freaking amazing,” the golden retriever said cheerfully. It was obvious from his ecstatic mannerisms that it was your unrelated brother. Right away, you could recognize his date from your previous dinner together. She wore an elegant blue dress that complimented her dyed blonde hair accompanied by a silver mask. Ki-young leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek and you reciprocated.

“You always know how to make a girl feel special. Hello Yoona. You look beautiful. I can see why Ki-young is so cheerful tonight.” The young woman blushed, and squeezed Ki-young’s arm as she held onto him.

“Thank you. I have to say this isn’t your everyday crowd, but it’s a lot of fun being here dressed like this. So many elites and chaebols are here,” she whispers excitedly, “But seriously, N/N. That dress is to die for. Your boyfriend must be a mess seeing you like this. Where is uh...Joon Jae, right?” Ki-young looked a little guilty towards you, or at least knowing of the situation. You simply smiled kindly.

“Joon Jae isn’t here tonight. I came alone. I couldn’t let this dress go to waste,” you teased lightly, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Min-ho for a moment. Have a good evening you two.” As much as you wanted your exit to seem nonchalant, Yoona looked at Ki-young with apologetic eyes. She could sense she unintentionally made you uncomfortable. He assured her that she did nothing wrong with a simple kiss to her temple.

Indeed, you did go to find Min-ho for further instructions on your performance tonight. You couldn’t face Taehyung; not yet at least. Besides, he was busy entertaining Yuri, so you didn’t want to interrupt them. In fact, the more you thought about it, knowing you were truly alone tonight, all you wanted to do was sing your song and make your exit. Going home, putting on some pajamas, and watching a chick flick with a big glass of wine sounded delightful - maybe a whole bottle. 

Min-ho was found standing with Sooyoung as they spoke to another lavish couple. As you approached them, you tried sneaking glances at Taehyung. Luckily, he never noticed. Your fictive kin  parents took notice of you as you approached them, and said their goodbyes to the couple they were speaking with.

“N/N, dear, you look stunning. I’m so glad you made it,” Min-ho said with delight. You leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He had such young features for a man his age; so comforting and bright. The Kim’s were truly a good looking family, even including Taehyung being adopted into the family. Their wealth and status never faltered their kindhearted nature. They always remained true and pure. You couldn’t have asked for a better family to stand by your side throughout your years.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you took another quick glance at Taehyung, whom you found on the dance floor with Yuri. Sooyoung took notice as she always does - as most mothers do.

“So, your performance. Are you well prepared?” Min-ho smirked as the instruments in the background came to an end. The guests clapped respectfully for the band. Butterflies tingled to your very core.

“It looks like it will be about right about now,” he remarked with a wink as he walked towards the stage. The intoxication of the champagne seemed to hit you like an IV tap - giving you enough courage to carry on. Sooyoung stepped closer to you and put her hand on your arm for comfort.

“Don’t be nervous, dear. It’s going to be beautiful,” Sooyoung reassured in her sweetest, motherly tone. With a sigh, you put your hand over hers before she let go.

“I’m...going to sing something different. Something with more meaning. I don’t think the world is ready for the mess I’ve been writing these days,” you joked with a nervous laugh. It was a decision you were perfectly happy with. Most of the songs you sang had a dark and somber meaning between the lines. This selection was specifically driven towards a more light yet still romantic setting. As you sat down each night to practice this song, something felt right. This song made your heart hurt in the most healing way - the old, jazz classic, Everytime We Say Goodbye.

“It is my pleasure to introduce a beautiful, young woman who has been nothing less than a daughter to me and my wife over the years. It turns out that she has wonderful talent, and now she’s going to share it with all of you. We’re delighted to witness such a gift. Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N L/N.” When you heard your name, your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes on the microphone as you approached the small stage area.

It’s been so long since you've performed in front of people. Well, you had piano recitals in school, but you didn’t have to open your mouth to sing. Ever. This was new territory and surprisingly, you didn’t feel like you were going to throw up. Although, it did feel like your heart was beating in your throat. A part of you felt relief that Soo-young convinced you to stand outside of your comfort zone. It was especially invigorating as no one really knew you could sing. And now, the people closest to you and a room of elite strangers were about to see your vulnerability on display. 

The crowd lightly applauded as you took your graceful strides forward. When you got up to the stage, you were greeted with a sea of elegant men and women in extraordinary dresses and masks - a beautiful sight yet excruciatingly intimidating. Even though this was an upscale lifestyle you were used to seeing, you still didn’t feel as if you fit in. But now, with this song, you could escape to a world that was always your safe place. It should be a terrifying thought but the only set of eyes that make you weak in the knees are his.

The piano keys begin playing in the background in a harmonious fashion. Nervous fingers twitch at your side to the melody to follow along the rhythm. Instantly, as you close your eyes to take it all in, it takes you back to your childhood. When you and Taehyung were having your darkest of days. Playing jazz albums on the vinyl player he kept in his room, this song in particular - Every Time We Say Goodbye. Tonight, the beautiful melody was sung by you.

We love each other so deeply That I ask you this, sweetheart Why should we quarrel ever? Why can't we be enough clever,  never to part -

It wasn’t until you drew out the last note that you finally opened your eyes. Closing your eyes allowed you to feel the music and travel back to the time you held so near and dear to your heart. When you opened them, your focus was on the pair of brown eyes that always made your heart flutter. It took no time to find them as if your auras were calling out to each other. The melody remained slow as your voice led the flow of the chords. So tender and raw with a hint of deep love with each note that escaped your lips. A fabrato purred in your throat with each ending word naturally.

Every time we say goodbye, I die a little Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little Why the gods above me, who must be in the know - Think so little of me They allow you to go -

The song flowed in perfect harmony with your voice as people began slow dancing along. Eyes respectfully tried to remain on you as your presence was captivating in every way. In particular, Taehyung was watching. There was a soft smile on his lips. You couldn’t tell if he was surprised or in awe or just content to be near his beloved. Yuri said something to him that you couldn’t make out. He then turned his attention back to her. It was only for a moment and his gaze was back on you as they continued dancing with one another. 

When you're near, There's such an air of spring about it I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it - There's no love song finer But how strange the change from major to minor Every time we say goodbye Every time we say goodbye -

The song came to an end with a big weight lifted off of your chest. The room cheered. In Particular, you took notice of Ki-young and Min-ji clapping and cheering louder than anyone else in the room - such supportive siblings. You couldn’t help but to smile with a tinted rose in your cheeks. Graciously, you curtsied to the crowd. Walking off the stage, the band began playing the next song to keep the mood for the party. You decided to go towards the dance floor to find everyone; well, Taehyung. Interrupting your search with eagerness, Ki-young, Yoona, and Min-ji walked up to you. Min-ji was the first to give you the biggest hug her petite body could handle.

“Y/N L/N! Oh my god! I didn’t know you could sing like that! Babe, you sounded like an angel!" As you hugged her back, you couldn’t help but to giggle. Her enthusiasm made you feel warm. Min-ji was always such a bright spirit and you loved her for it. 

“Thanks Min-ji. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you before going on. You look ravishing as always.” Min-ji gave you a look and then the same to Ki-young.

“Can you ever take a compliment without giving one back,” she asked with a laugh, “but thank you. You know how much I love a good party.”

“You love anything that involves you dressing up, Min,” Ki-young interrupted with a kind smile. Min-ji turned to him with a cheeky smile showing that he was right on the nose.

“You know me all too well, big brother.” At that moment, Taehyung arrived by your side and gently placed his hand on your lower back. An instant chill ran up your spine as you caught a glimpse of the coy smile he gave his siblings; his scent filling your nose. Smoked cherries - spicy and sweet. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Be still my heart.

“Ki-young, Yoona, Min-ji, do you mind if I steal N/N for a moment?” The trio smiled and willingly let him whisk you away. He didn’t waste any time to take you further onto the floor, readying himself in position to start dancing with you. He held you close and your instinct was to find Yuri to ensure this didn’t bother her. She couldn’t be seen anywhere.

“Where’s your date,” you asked casually. Taehyung looked at you without an emotion you could read and held your hand a little tighter in an endearing way - a comforting way.

“She’ll be back soon. So, when were you planning on telling me that you could sing like that? I've  known you practically your whole life and I've never heard you. Curious.” The word slithered out like a snake who just caught his victim. The way he asked seemed as if he was slightly insulted that he didn’t know. A playful scoff came out. The man acts as if there can be no secrets between you two. Little does he know. He discovered something about you that he couldn’t read in a file. Poor thing. You looked into his eyes and remained coy.

“You don’t have to know everything about me, you know?” He laughed lightly in amusement. Lowering himself to meet your ear so only you could hear, his breath tickled your skin.

“You and I both know that’s far from the truth. I must know everything about you,” his voice  hummed deliciously in a way that made you shiver, “For what it’s worth, you have a beautiful voice, along with how you look tonight. You sang our song. Should I be flattered or was that just a coincidence?” His gaze returned to yours as he parted from the side of your face. Prayers couldn’t prevent your cheeks from changing colors. His irises seemed darker somehow. It made your heart race.

“It depends. Are you flattered, Taehyung?” Wait. Are we flirting? It’s been a while since we’ve been playful towards each other; at least since before Yuri came into the picture. A smirk formed on his perfectly shaped lips - hypnotizing.

“Flattered enough that I want to hear you again. Would you sing for me,” he asked in an enticing voice. It was then that you realized how close you were dancing together. His touch felt like fire against your lower back as the material of your dress was dangerously thin. You could feel how firm his chest was as your torsos were sandwiched together. The smell of his body wash and light scented cologne makes your head spin. Surely he could feel how fast your heart was beating. Or perhaps he could smell how aroused you are. Your cheeks flushed deeper as you looked up at him.

“You know I’ll do anything you ever ask of me. I’ll do anything for you, Taehyung,” you said in a submissive tone. Saying his name when you spoke to him was your own way of being submissive to him, but you're not sure if he ever noticed. Something changed in his expression. It seemed as if time stood still. Suddenly, Taehyung’s attention averted towards the entrance. Yuri was headed out in a rushed fashion - almost as if she was running away. His attention was no longer in your presence as he watched her descend towards the doors.

“Perhaps a raincheck. Excuse me.” And in an instant, Taehyung left. Initially, the feeling of disappointment coursed through you yet your empathy took over. Whatever it was, it would be awful of her boyfriend to just stand there and watch her leave. And yet, how quickly he ran to her without hesitation made your heart drop ever so slightly. You got your dance and sang your song. May as well make your exit. Regardless, it was all you wanted from this evening. 

Sooyoung and Min-ho are sitting at a table engaging in conversation with other elites. With a deep breath to regain your composure, you make your way over there to say goodbye. They both look up at you with delight.

“Sorry to leave so early but I think I’m going to go,” you interrupt politely. Min-ho went to speak but was pulled into another conversation by a peer. Sooyoung looked disappointed by this.

“But the evening has just begun, darling. Won’t you stay for the auction? It’s coming up soon.” Ah, the auction. Bidding on items and events isn’t exactly your cup of tea. Your contribution was your voice and you couldn’t bear to be there any longer. Walking over behind them, you kissed each of them on the cheek.

“Enjoy your evening, okay? I’ll come over soon to share a meal.” Sooyoung opened her mouth to protest, however, you left before you could hear another reason to stay. For once, you wanted to be selfish. You needed to be selfish. Besides, nothing sounded more appealing to you than spending the remainder of the night with yourself. Perhaps tonight, you’ll start learning how to move on; starting with the biggest bottle of wine that you can find.

It was nearly midnight and you were sure the party had come to an end by now. A content sigh escaped you as you walked out of your bedroom in your most comfortable loungewear. Face washed and your routine night care had been complete - leaving you feeling fresh. Eagerness coursed through your veins as your bare feet led you towards the kitchen. A steaming cup of tea awaited you. 

With your cup in hand, you walked over to your couch whilst taking tiny sips to soothe your soul. A fuzzy blanket laid lazily just calling out your name. Now that the ball was over, a weekend ahead of catching up on rest seemed like a dream. Just as you were about to turn on an episode of one of your favorite dramas, there was a knock on the door. Panic made you freeze; alert yet confused. Who would be at your door this late at night?

Fear rose in your chest as you slowly got off the couch. Please don’t let it be Joon Jae… Your phone in hand ready in case you need to make an emergency call to someone, anyone. Thoughts mumbling internally as you approach the tiny security screen near your door, you take a peak to see your visit. To your surprise, it was the last person you were expecting to see. Instantly, you opened the door.

“Taehyung? What are you doing here?” His hair looked slightly teased. His suit jacket was gone leaving him just in a button down shirt, the top two buttons undone and his tie unraveled around his collar. He looked up at you in a way that caused your heart to skip a beat. Had he been crying?

“She’s gone. I guess I’m more of a monster than I thought…” His voice sounded so defeated. It broke your heart into two. Nothing stopped you from reaching out for his hand to lead him inside.

“Ah... Come inside,” your soothing voice whispered. When you closed the door, he stood in place. Looking around your apartment as if it was the first time he had ever been here. Lost and dazed. What the hell happened to make him so disheveled? As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him, you decided to keep your distance. Instead, you went to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea for him as well. He looked like he desperately needed one - something comforting. When you returned to him, he hadn’t moved an inch. He slowly reached for the cup, wrapping his hands around it without taking a sip.

“What happened? I haven’t seen you like this...in a really long time. Are you okay?” Somehow, you felt as if you could feel his pain. Your attachment to him truly took a hold. The empathetic connection you shared was all consuming, as if you had the power to fix everything.

“She wanted to see. She wanted to know how far I could go. It wasn’t even my furthest. I proceeded with caution, started slowly. But she looked at me as if I abused her. I trusted her to tell me to stop and she never did. Why didn’t she use her safe word? I...I don’t know what I did wrong.” Blood boiled inside of you. Although he spoke without much context, you knew exactly what he meant. Yuri must have challenged Taehyung to show her his true dominance. Why like this? Yuri was new to the world of BDSM. Trust is the utmost important aspect of the realm. To defy this trust is the worst you can do - whether as the dominant or the submissive.

Remember when you interviewed Yuri a while back, she asked you questions about this lifestyle. It wasn’t a life for her. She didn’t understand. You don’t just become submissive. You either are or you’re not. Maybe you should have warned Taehyung but he needed to see for himself. In the moment, all you could do was keep to yourself. Now wasn’t the time for “I told you so”. He needed a friend, a confidant.

“You’re not a monster. Don’t ever think that way. You have strong feelings for Yuri and I get that. I really do. You gained feelings for someone who doesn’t understand this life, which isn’t easy. Being a dominant or a submissive isn’t a sin. It’s not weird or unusual. It’s an intense relationship that involves trust in so many forms. You need someone who can give you the best of both worlds - a submissive and a deep connection outside of the bedroom. I’m...sorry that person wasn’t Yuri. Give it some time. Maybe she just needs to think about it and she’ll come around. If you’ll accept her trust again, that is.” Taehyung’s gaze never left yours as you spoke. Something softened in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could trust her again. Who is to say she won’t do it again? Maybe…I need someone that can give me that trust. Someone...like you.” Your jaw dropped and lips dried as you lost your breath. Eyes widened at his words, your head frantically started replaying his words to make sure you heard them correctly.

“I-I...I don’t know w-what you mean. You’re not thinking clearly. Why don’t we sit on the couch?” Fighting every fiber of your being to think too much into the situation, you turned to go towards the couch. His hand reached for your wrist to still you. His eyes were dark, lingering enough to make your skin heat with anticipation.

“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in my entire life. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” Time stood still. What did he mean? It couldn’t be. The song perhaps? How did he know? Thinking back, you recalled getting an unusual text from his mother after you left the ball.

It will all be better soon. I promise, dear.

Sooyoung. What the hell did she say to him? The breath in your lungs became dense as the room became smaller. The deepest secret between the two of you had been revealed without your permission. A string of emotions rushed over you as you tried to find a way to escape this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re...just friends. That’s it,” you stuttered timidly as you tried to play it off with nervous laughter. Taehyung didn’t look phased.

“If you wanted to be more, all you had to do was ask. I thought I was clear about that.” Then that’s when you started putting the pieces together. Did he think you just wanted to be his submissive? You couldn’t help but to laugh lightly - insulted.

“Taehyung, I’ve told you a thousand times. I don’t want to be your sub. I value our friendship far too much for that. I don’t know what your mother told you but I think you got the wrong idea. Don’t read too much into things.” Feeling the perfect opportunity as he loosened his grip, you removed your wrist from his hand. The fear of him feeling your heightened pulse made you retreat from his warm touch. Surely she said something subtle and he took it the wrong way. He’s suggested such a dom-sub relationship for years; no strings attached. It was a line you could never cross as you knew you would get attached and want more. A real relationship. Love.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, but that’s not a line I can cross with you.” Your gaze into his eyes were soft - sincere. Rejecting his offer yet again to avoid a potential broken heart, it was the best solution. It had to be.

“So you’re not in love with me then,” Taehyung replied in a low, sultry tone. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widened in alarm. Shock got the best of you, making you drop your teacup causing it to shatter against the floor - the only sound that remained in the room besides your thoughts.

Fuck...

[shadystranger]

sam being evidently dean's defender/enabler is so hot to me. crazy guy always addicted to his poison. freak to the core. does NOT play about his potentially abusive brother.

even when dean treats him like ass and/or walks over him, sam just forgives him or doesn't retaliate bc he genuinely adores him. not only that, sam'd legit choose dean being awful to him over dean not caring about him at all

he just wants dean even if he'll be horrible to him he will work by that. and he will actively reject better alternatives to remain with him. some ppl say he's a battered wife who's entrapped and while i think that's sexy! I think he's not fully entrapped ima be honest. human nature is complicated. sam is a heavily complex character, but i see how he will seek dean time and time again by his own violation, and i kinda give up. he also gets so irreversibly shattered/empty without dean. straight up a shell of a human. he will never be happy without dean. his life stops at dean. he lives by dean's choice, and he'll kill himself if dean sees it necessary. he will take on dean's outbursts. he will do things dean's way except when it's concerning losing dean, then sam'll get all retaliative and stubborn and not fall through. he will take the brunt of dean's pain if he could. he'll be complicit in hurting ppl precious to him. he will go against his principles he will be everything and nothing all at once for dean, and that's wowie

[dropsofpluto-writes]

If Only In Dreams (Hotch x Reader oneshot)

Summary: You've been Jack Hotchner's babysitter for quite some time now, but his dad is what keeps you coming back, even if it's only in your dreams. Until now, that is. 18+, minors dni

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), voice kink, plot if you squint

Grad school was kicking your ass. Fully and completely. Classes and coursework was stressing you to the max, but you remained strong. Still, money was important, so you found yourself in the kitchen of SSA Aaron Hotchner’s home, making a simple meal for Jack to eat before he went to bed. It didn’t hurt that you loved Jack, or that your boss was amazing.

You supposed that you were a woman of simple pleasures. Sure, Mr. Hotchner was generous and kind, always overpaying you for the services you provided. But, by God he was one hell of a man. 

Neat, black hair that you were begging to feel, rugged features that even Michaelangelo couldn’t carve, and his voice. Surely he could recite the first 100 digits of pi and you would go weak in the knees. To your credit, it had also been far too long since you had cum.

But alas, you were just making boxed mac-n-cheese for his young son. Plus, there’s now way in hell he would ever hold you in the same light. You knew that he never spent his free time touching himself to the thought of your moans, your breath on his skin, the way you must taste, the way only your voice could scream his name. But, you imagined all that and more of him. Maybe that was okay. Maybe you shouldn’t violate the one good constant in your life.

“Jack, honey! Dinner will be ready in 5. Could you wash your hands and grab yourself a drink, please?” giggling to yourself, watching the young boy finally walk away from the biggest Lego tower that you’d ever seen him make.

“Yep!”

The two of you ate dinner at the kitchen table, mostly talking about Jack’s newest friend from school, but soon enough he was in bed, and you were cleaning up from the meal.

As you scrubbed the pot, silently cursing yourself for not putting it to soak before they sat down to eat, you found your thoughts were consumed by your employer. On more than one occasion, he had told you to call him Aaron, but you remained in your ways of calling him Mr. Hotchner. you had told him that you liked the formality of the moniker, but you were also terrified that if you were to call him Aaron, it would come out as a choked moan, as it had so many times in the confines of your own bedroom.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your reverie. The lock screen displayed a message from the man occupying your mind.

Is there any possible way you could stay a bit longer tonight? Got held up with paperwork at the office. I would ask Jessica, but she can’t tonight -H.

While you had never spent the night at the Hotchner residence before, you had nothing else of importance that evening, so you agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

Sure thing! Sorry you got held up, but I’m always happy to help. <3

Thanks a million, y/n. -H

You began to make yourself comfortable on the couch and continue with your homework, knowing you would likely fall asleep within the hour. Still, getting some of the work done was better than getting none of it done. 

“Goddamn it!” Halfway through the last assignment, your computer decided to die, and of course, you forgot that damn charger at home. After all, you hadn’t planned on staying the night. You instead occupied yourself with mindless scrolling on social media, eventually drifting to sleep. 

If your thoughts of Aaron during the day were criminal, your dreams at night would surely guarantee eternal damnation.

“Oh sweet Jesus, Aaron, just like that!” you dreamt of the man with his head buried in between your thighs, a rather common theme in your fantasies. The vision of the man you worked for was truly a sight to behold. Tendrils of his raven hair falling over his forehead, pupils blown in ecstasy as he devoured your pussy. He licked through your folds like a starved man. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing the man full access. His tongue gently circled your clit, engorged with pleasure. As he wrapped his lips around the bud, the all-too-familiar coil in your stomach began to make itself known, signaling your impending orgasm.

“Holy shit, p-please! You’re so fucking good, Aaron. M-make me feel so, so good.” Dream Aaron kept the pace, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside your and sucking your aching clit into his mouth, sending you rocketing toward the edge.

“Yeah, you like that baby? Want me to make you feel good?” you groaned at the loss of his mouth on your pussy, but as quickly as it left, he was back at it, devouring your aching cunt like a starved man.

Your orgasm began to build, feeling yourself reaching the peak, when the dam finally gave way, filling you with white-hot pleasure as you moaned his name.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Fuck. 

You slowly opened your eyes to the dimly lit living room, and was faced by the gracious image of your boss. There he stood, suit jacket in hand, tie loosened, the top buttons of his tailored shirt undone.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, hoping that the dull light of the lamp in the room wasn’t calling attention to the fiery blush creeping across your cheeks. Looking at the watch on your wrist, you noted the time. 2:45 AM.

“You were writhing around, and you called my name a few times.”

Were you imagining the knowing glint in his eye? His eyes had always been a point of interest for you, their inescapable depth equal parts comforting and chilling. No, surely he couldn’t know that you were dreaming of his face between your thighs just mere seconds ago.

“Huh. I’m not one to remember dreams too often.”

“Y/n, I am a profiler, and one of my duties is to know when a suspect is lying. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”. He walked toward the side of the couch where you were sitting, his presence both suffocating and bringing you to life.

There was a long pause before you replied, scrambling to think of anything that didn't make you look helpless and desperate.

“I think it was a -um- nightmare? Your tone was utterly unconvincing.

“It didn’t sound like a nightmare to me, Y/n,” the timbre of his voice sent waves of heat between your thighs. “It sounded like you were having a great time. Like we were having a great time.”

You had been caught. Like a deer in headlights, you froze entirely, not wanting to confirm or deny the truth laid before you. Somehow, a small part of your brain chose honesty.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m so sorry. If you need to find another babysitter for Jack I completely understand.” You sat up, hoping to look a little less helpless

“Now that would just make me a hypocrite, Y/n,” his voice was softer now, but just as lustful as you'd dreamt. “You were in my dreams, too. I dream about what lies beneath your clothes, what you’d look like in my bed.”

This couldn’t be real. Surely he was just embarrassing you to make a point. Still, you held out hope that he was being true to his word.

“Oh, God” was the only thing to escape your lips, just above a whisper.

“We can continue, or you can tell me to stop and we’ll never discuss it again. Either way, I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please. God, yes Mr. Hotchner.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Aaron?” he questioned you, a devilish grin across his lips.

“Please, Aaron”

He was on you in an instant, lips crashing to yours. This was not gentle, nor did you want it to be. This was long-awaited passion. Your arms circled his neck, and his found your waist, picking you up as if you were weightless. He moved his head away from you barely, trying to read your face. All he saw was a hunger for himself, deep in your eyes.

He began to carry you in the direction of his bedroom, the one place in his home you’d never been in. As you entered the hallway, you made sure to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy just a few rooms away.

Aaron tossed you onto his bed, a place you never thought you would actually see. You took him in, his looks, his sound, his smell- clean but still uniquely Hotch. He toyed with the hem of your shirt and brought it up to your navel, gazing deep into your eyes again to gauge your response. You removed the thin garment, exposing your bare breasts, flinging it somewhere near his nightstand. The cool air of his bedroom quickly spread gooseflesh across your skin, nipples puckering in response. 

He removed his own shirt and you pulled him closer to you with a foot behind his knee. You sat up to get a better view of his rolling muscles, a bit padded by age, not that you minded. As you admired his body, you couldn’t help but skate your hands across his skin, up his arms, over his shoulders, down his pecs, toward his abdomen. He had quite a few scars here, and you decided not to ask about their origin.

He leaned in toward you, kissing you again fervently. You responded in kind, aching to be one with him. You sighed into his mouth as your hand found his length, shocked by the size.

“Not just yet, my love. Tell me more about your dreams of me”

You were near naked in front of the man, but you somehow felt a pang of shame again.

He hooked a hand under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You eat my pussy,” you said, craving the real thing over the imagined scenario.

A low groan erupted from his mouth as he knelt down at the edge of the bed, gently pushing you onto your back. He parted your knees, kissing gently up your thighs, teasing you.

His hands snaked into the waistband of your shorts, removing them and your underwear at once. You were completely bare to him, and you decided that this was easily the best moment of your college experience thus far. 

He looked up at you from between your legs, and asked you once more, “Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, please. I need your mouth on me”

That was all the affirmation he needed. Quickly, he dipped his tongue between your labia, relishing in your taste. He hummed in approval as you moaned softly.

“So wet just for me?” He chuckled gently.

“Just for you, only for you, Mr. Hotchner”

He landed a soft smack to the outside of your thigh, just enough to sting.

“Call. Me. Aaron.”, he said, punctuating each word with a strong lick across your clit.

“Only for you, Aaron”

He made quick work of you, eventually inserting one finger, then two, feeling your walls pulse as you were brought closer and closer to the edge. His free hand reached up to your breast, cupping and kneading the flesh, then pinching your nipple. Your hands flew into his hair, eliciting a deep moan from the man ravishing you. Gently pulling, you let out a breathy gasp. 

“Oh, Aaron, I think I’m g-gonna cum”

Aaron sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swiping a circular motion on its surface. You felt yourself hurtling toward oblivion, mind encapsulated by your boss. His fingers curled within you, keeping pace as you rode out your orgasm. 

Once you came down, you stared into his eyes, marveling at the man who was now leaning over your body. His cock was visibly straining against the tight cotton of his slacks, and you gawked at his size. 

“Need you inside me, Aaron. Need all of you so so bad.”

That was all the confirmation that he needed to release his dick. He was quick, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down his strong muscular thighs. You made a mental note to tell him just how hot he was. 

You saw his enormous length, red and weeping at the tip. It must be painfully hard, but all you could think about was how to get him inside you. 

He quickly gathered the evidence of your release with a gentle swipe of his cock through your folds, then aligned himself with your aching cunt. With a gentle thrust and a gorgeous moan, he pushed himself inside you, taking his sweet time to bottom out. You were overcome by a sense of fullness. The small thatch of hair at the base of him rubbed softly at your clit, adding to your euphoria.

He started to fuck into you, ravenous look upon his face. God, this man knew some things. With every thrust into you, he hit the sweet spot inside you, brushing against it with a fervor. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, willing him to destroy you. You would sell your soul to stay in this moment forever, but memories would suffice.

“G-gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” 

“Oh fuck, Aaron! I’m on the pill, I don’t care, just please make me cum”

Instead of replying, he opted to press his thumb into your clit, making quick work of your orgasm.

You were surrounded by a white hot pleasure, the best you’d felt in eons. You look over to the man at your side, also coming down from his own orgasm. 

“Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are, Aaron?” you say, gazing at him with adoration.

“Only you.” His reply was brief, but he had a gorgeous grin spread on his face. You laughed softly, just happy to be where you were with the man you were sure you loved.

[wordsarelife]

DAY 5: CHRISTMAS LOVE

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: it was no secret that mattheo riddle annoyed the hell out of you, but you did grow concerned when you suddenly didn’t mind it anymore..

warnings: suggestive, mentions of throwing up, but it doesn’t actually happen. apart from that nothing else

notes: i’m so sorry but i lost the original request, so i had to go with the short notes i had made, so i might leave something out! but i think i have the essential part

sorry it took me so long to post but i had to proofread before i could let whatever the fuck this is (🫠) into the world!

you watched the snow fall behind the stained glass window. the library was dimly lit, making it easier for you to see.

you loved this time of year. it was so quiet. especially in hogwarts. most of the student body had gone home for the holidays and you were one of the few people that stayed.

to your luck the biggest nuisance in the world did too. “what are we looking at?” mattheo riddle asked close to your ear.

you shrieked to the side, startled by his sudden appearance.

“what?” he asked “you’re scared of me now?”

you rolled your eyes “scared isn’t the word i would use, more like deeply frustrated” you grabbed the book from the window sill and got up.

“sexually?” he asked, raising his eyebrows

“ugh” you rolled your eyes, walking around him

“hey!” mattheo tried to stand in your way but was unsuccessful “where are you going?”

“somewhere you aren’t”

mattheo followed close behind you. “come on” he said “it’s christmas time! the loveliest time of the year! can’t you knit me a sweater or something?”

you send him a spiteful look.

“a hat?”

“i’m not gonna knit you anything” you halted in your step. taking a quick look at the book in your hand before you held it in his direction. “actually, do you mind bringing this back to where i got it from?”

“do i get mittens?”

“sure” you rolled your eyes and waited until he had walked around the shelf, before you quickly sprinted to the exit.

to your luck, he made it out of the library just a second after.

since he had first noticed how much it annoyed you, mattheo had made it a habit to follow you around the castle. over the time he had become an instant trigger for your headache.

“so what about these mittens huh?”

“riddle, can’t you leave me alone?” at least he was walking not next to you

“you’re the only one in our year i know”

“and?”

“christmas is for friends huh?”

“we’re not friends” you argued, crossing your arms

“we could be” mattheo shrugged. “and then you realize how great i am and give me a blowjob on christmas morning”

“oh because you’re so great i suddenly want to give you a blowjob?” you asked disgusted, while crossing your arms

“there’s no shame in admitting you want to pleasure me”

“eww” you shook your head “do you ever think about anything else but sex?”

“you’re way too hot to not think about sex or you getting on your knees and—“

“alright” you interrupted, raising your arms. but before you could try something else to get him to leave you alone, something helpful entered your field of vision.

you smiled at him, before you walked left.

“no!” mattheo argued “that’s not fair”

you walked into the girls washroom and ignored him. he held the door open.

“you know it violates my principles to go in there”

“i do” you nodded, pretty aware that he wouldn’t be caught dead in there. you weren’t even sure why. mattheo normally wasn’t the guy to follow rules, but he did have a high moral standard considering places like the girls washroom or sleeping quarters.

you smiled mischievously, suddenly thinking about testing him “come in here and i’ll give you the best blowjob of your life”

you weren’t even thinking about ever doing that.

mattheo ignored what you said, even if he did get a little white at your words “you play dirty!” he protested “but okay, you win this time!”

you smiled about the frustration on his face. he had always tried to flirt with you, but it never fazed you, so now you were the impossible challenge for him. and what better time for this than when almost to no students were in hogwarts and school was out.

mattheo found you later in the evening, while you were sitting at the slytherin table, enjoying your meal while reading your book. during the holidays no one could forbid you from doing that.

you had heard him approach from a few feet away. it was like you had developed a special radar for him over the years.

"hello, love" he sat down beside you

"don't call me that" you muttered, without looking up

"what? no flinching?"

"you're not invisible"

"okay then what was that, a few hours ago in the library?" he asked and you could practically feel him raising his eyebrows.

"the library was the last place i expected you to be" you said truthfully

"you were there"

"yes" you nodded and looked up at him "because i thought you'd never be"

mattheo sighed, sliding closer to you. you side eyed him. "come any closer and i'll scream"

“come on, y/n” mattheo said almost sounding friendly. but then there was that smug smile again. “why don’t we call a truce? considering the holiday season?”

“never” you turned the page “can you leave me alone now?”

mattheo began eating peacefully, not even caring what you had said and you just sighed, going back to ignoring him. after you had finished dinner, he followed you again as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“stop following me” you stopped, turning around to look at him

“i do have the same way, you know?” he came closer to you, leaning down and whispering in your ear “not everything i do is about you, sweetheart” you watched with big eyes how he smirked and then undid his tie with a quick gesture. he winked at you before he continued his way, leaving you standing in the hallway.

you looked after him puzzled. you had not considered that proximity — or how it had made you feel. you almost found it attractive. you couldn’t believe what you were thinking but for a short second you really were attracted to mattheo riddle. of all people.

you tried to take calming breaths, so whatever had happened right now would go away, but it was to no appeal.

of course mattheo had always looked good, even you couldn’t ignore that, but you had never once thought about him as more than a nuisance that got on your last nerve. now you were almost wishing him to be here, pushing you against the wall—

you couldn’t determine what had suddenly come over you. mattheo had done a pretty good job bothering you these past few years and you had always resisted his advances. and now, just half a year before graduation you were getting weak?

you tried shaking your head, to get rid of the thoughts in there. you quickly walked in the direction of the common room.

in your room, you went into the bathroom, taking a cold shower and after that going to bed as quick as possible. you didn’t want to grant your head the time to think about the stupid boy even more.

the next few days were torture for you. you hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, your mind always wandering back to him.

of course mattheo had picked up his usual habit again, finding you whenever you had been able to get rid of him. every word of him made you a bit weaker in the knees and almost give in. but there was that little bit of self worth that kept you from leaping over the table and kissing the smug smile off his face.

right now you were sitting at dinner, not really getting anything down while you slowly turned the pages of your magazine, while mattheo was sitting across from you, talking your ear off.

even if you could act normal with your last bit of strength, you weren’t able to fight his presence anymore. when he was able to find you, you would mostly just give in. and to your horror you had to admit that he wasn’t even as bad as you had thought. even if half the things he said were total nonsense.

you caught yourself losing track of the magazine and actually listening to him. and you didn’t even hate it. he was funny, you had to admit and he was interested in what you had to answer to his questions

“what’s your favorite color?” he asked, just after he had finished a rant about not being allowed to smoke in his dorm, but doing it anyway.

“huh?” you asked

“your favorite color” mattheo smiled and probably for the first time you noticed how beautiful it was. and it seemed genuine.

“green” you shrugged and his smile got impossibly bigger.

“i like green too” he gushed. he looked like a five year old. and to your personal horror you did not find it disgusting, but rather cute and charming. you wanted to throw up, right now, right here.

you got up from the seat abruptly. “i have to go to the bathroom” you said quickly and mattheo looked at you in confusion

“are you alright?” he asked, but you were already walking out the hall in a quick step.

you reached the bathroom and almost stumbled into the stall, falling down on the floor.

“y/n?” a voice from outside the washroom called

“not now, mattheo” you said annoyed. you leaned against the wall, while you began to cry. luckily you didn’t have to throw up. but the feeling didn’t go away.

you didn’t know what was happening to you. you were feeling like you had lost your mind.

“y/n?” mattheo called again, sounding concerned “are you alright?”

“i said not now” you screamed. he was standing in the door, looking at you scared. he looked like he didn’t know what to do. and still he did not set a foot into the room.

“are you crying?” he wondered

“no!” you screamed, while tears were running down your cheeks, very openly falsifying your statement. you quickly wiped them away.

“what’s wrong?”

“everything” you bellowed “and all of it is your fault!”

“my fault?” he asked almost offended “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i don’t know what you did to make me feel like this, but as soon as find out you’re gonna hope you were never born” you got up walking into his direction, pointing your finger at him accusingly. he was walking backwards until you were both standing in the hall.

“whoa” he raised his hands “i didn’t do anything to you”

“you’re lying” you shook your head “i can’t eat, i can’t sleep. i think about you all the time, without wanting to and i actually listen to what you tell me and the worst thing is that i suddenly don’t hate you anymore. i hated you for the past six years and now i can’t do it anymore? what the fuck is going on mattheo? i feel like i’m losing my mind”

you almost wanted him to find a solution for your problem.

“i don’t know okay?” mattheo said “maybe you’re just in love with me” he joked then, but it smile faded quickly and he got serious. “maybe you are in love with me” he repeated softly.

you send him a spiteful look “i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you”

“i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you too” he exclaimed. then he paused, until he looked into your eyes, smiling slightly “but i just can’t help it” he whispered

your eyes softened. for the first time in a long time, you believed what he was saying.

“i can’t eat, i can’t sleep” he muttered, gently fixing a strand of your hair “i think about you all the time” he touched your cheek softly “and i actually listen to what you tell me” his fingers grazed your lips. “and i don’t ever want it to stop” his hand touched your neck and your eyes closed on instant.

then he softly kissed you. your hand went to his collar, drawing him closer. you deepened the kiss, while you breathed in his smell. he smelled of nicotine and some sort of perfume that was unfamiliar to you but it could make you recognize him anywhere.

he softly broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. “why does it feel so intense?” you asked “i thought i had to throw up back in there” you pointed behind you.

“i’d say it gets better, but it never does” he shrugged “not even after years”

“years?” you repeated “you felt like this for years?”

“did you think i was following you around because i loved spending my time in the library?”

“i thought you followed me because you just wanted to get in my pants”

“don’t get me wrong, i do want to get into your pants” he smirked “but not only once and i also want to do so much more than just that”

you smiled at him. maybe being in love with someone wasn’t so bad after all. not when it was him.

he smiled back “let’s go back to the common room” he suggested and you nodded. he layed an arm around your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead.

“mattheo?”

“hmm?”

“why didn’t you go in the washroom a few days ago, even though i promised you the best blowjob of your life?” you asked the question in a joking manner, but it really did interest you.

“you didn’t mean it”

“still”

“it’s not respectful” he shrugged “entering a place like that, it’s not okay, even if no one would catch me. even if it would be just the two of us” he said truthfully “but back there? i almost threw all that out of the window, because i thought something was wrong and you needed my help”

you hugged his body closer “thank you” you whispered and he kissed you on the head.

“so.. about those mittens”

you laughed. “merry christmas, matty”

“merry christmas, y/n”

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @taygrls @athenalikethegoddess @claradelage @novelizt @ahead-fullofdreams

[chaoticcoven]

I just want to take a moment to discuss what a poignent and intimate touch the writers have done with Fina's struggle to eat following her attack. I've seen both sides of eating deregulation as a result of trauma. Being someone who struggles with it and also being close to someone in the struggle. We know our girl loves to eat, if you put her near a late of pastries you can all but guarantee she won't stop until someone comes along and slaps her hand away.

Fina's behavior is not at all surprising though. This change in eating patterns might come from her feelings of apathy towards her body and it's needs as a result of the assault or as a means of retaining some semblance of control in her life.

Either way, this can't be escaping Marta's attention. After all, food has literally been a love language between Marta and Fina (and practically everyone who knows Fina). Whether that's Marta bringing her sweets after being stabbed, or her friends and family making Fina a big breakfast to cheer her up, or Marta making Swiss pastries with her during a rough patch.

I think it's telling that in episode 201 Marta tried tempting her with Gaspar's most tantalizing food only to be rebuffed. Then in 202 she comes with just a tea, respecting Fina's desire not to eat while also showing care for her. This is such a powerful expression of love to me. At the risk of oversharing, it's always struck me how much kindness my partner has extended to me regarding my struggles with eating. Seeing Marta show that level of concern and understanding to Fina really caught me off guard as such a compassionate and earnest writing choice. It's an impossible situation to be in when your partner decides to not take care of themselves for any reason. Especially one as horrible as this.

It's heartbreaking watching Marta fall all over herself to try and be the thing that sustains Fina. Worse is seeing Fina struggle to grapple with that soft care in a world where lately everything has been a violation and violent.

If Marta can continue to walk in that path of care and understanding and in time Fina learns to confront all these horrors, then I know they'll get through this as they always have, together.