#requested fic

[lilacxquartz]

uncanny valley;

summary: being a travelling merchant, you often sold all sorts of oddities to willing collectors, however, something was surely off about this client in particular.

a/n: for that one ask that requested something darker & lore accurate. reader insert but mostly to explore their character, this is not x reader. • masterlist, ao3

themes: lore accurate kenjaku, torture using gravity CT, disturbing themes, violence, hurt/no comfort, unending yapping, gender neutral reader • w.c: ~3k

Travelling across the world to both curate and sell strange artefacts had become something akin to second nature for you. At often times, these things were tied to jujutsu—so you’d part with varying sorts of cursed objects, scrolls and trinkets that felt as though they were imbued with an unseen energy.

At least to you, given that you were not a sorcerer.

Collectors were usually a mixed bag of people; sometimes it would be private hobbyists or institutions seeking to expand their wealth of knowledge available—but nothing could have prepared you for an interaction with one collector in particular—oh no, no, no, they were different.

You would often zone out as they spoke too, simply because it was partially nonsensical but also because it would be long and unwinding. Such words that were otherwise spoken with velvety smoothness only to offer very little explanation or even comfort beyond their chilling tone left you feeling nothing short of wary.

And yet, it wasn’t as though you had the option to just walk away either with something unseen that willed you into listening—that compelled you into staying against your own innate fear. It was as though when they spoke, your gut instinct anchored like an unseen weight, binding you to the ground.

“You know, you claim you still can’t see them,” the man spoke, their words oozing from their lips like molten honey; slick like velvet yet stagnating with unsettling stiffness.

You cleared your throat. “Pardon?”

“The entities that are invisible to the naked eye for the majority of humanity,” they clarified, but only just. “You claim to only be slightly put off the trinkets you curate and sell, likely due to the unseen cursed energy, but what if I told you that you could see those things too?”

Once again, you were lost. Something told you that this person must have been a trickster of some sort; a devil disguised as a human being. They were certainly charming enough and the mockery that laced every word that rolled off of their tongue was surely telling too. For that reason, your gut instinct screamed at you to not trust a single word that this individual spoke.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” you carefully replied as to neither dispel your curiosity nor their claim without giving into it.

The man stayed silent for a moment while allowing a slow, creeping smile to stretch onto their face, creasing the almost perfectly marbled skin they wore. No, this being couldn’t have possibly been alive, at least not in the same way as you. Jujutsu was still a foreign subject on your ears and there was a whole lot that you still didn’t know, but you could at least recognise this entity as being far from human. Perhaps at one point they were, but the way they acted felt almost rehearsed, as if they didn’t quite belong in the body they lived in. There was something rather telling about that deep blank stare and the eyes that looked right back at you; void black dots that were unyielding like space itself—except unlike the vast stretch of eternal darkness adorned by the glitter of stars—there was instead nothing that could be reflected in their gaze.

Just pitch black vastness.

Humans—regular humans, non-sorcerers—did have a term for something like this; a feeling that someone or something was out of place. What was the name for it again? The unease that you felt when looking back at this entity was not unjustified nor was it a reach, but rather perfectly well appointed. You were feeling that currently, you were pretty sure, because you weren’t being looked at by this thing—you were being analysed—maybe even dissected.

“Technically speaking,” the man continued, leaning in ever so slightly so that their long black hair swayed forward, “all of humanity, sorcerers or not, regardless of origin, are able to see these manifestations that the Jujutsu community is gate keeping the existence of,” they added, snapping their fingers to hold your attention. “Ever had a nightmare that left you feeling off in the waking world? Or have you ever felt… watched in your bedroom late at night? Perhaps it’s something that you have convinced yourself over the last couple of years in your time as an adult that being afraid of the dark is childish, so you pretend that the threat isn’t real nor there. But why is it otherwise that humans had long feared the dark and all of those things that go bump in the night?”

“Well you can’t see in the dark,” you muttered out, trying to follow their line of thinking, “so it’s a fear of the unknown, isn’t it?”

They hummed, seemingly satisfied with the direction of where your train of thought was headed. “Correct. Now, it’s mostly children who have these retained fears. A fun little fact is that children under the age of ten, gifted or not, have been speculated to be ten times more likely to see cursed spirits than in adulthood, so let me ask you this: why is it that children are more likely to see them than their adult counterparts?”

You shrugged that time. “A more active imagination?”

They half scoffed, shaking their head. What a boring answer you just gave, they thought. You were being purposefully vague and withholding the true extent of your answers just because you didn’t want to entertain them due to a lack of trust. While this might have all been fair enough, it was surely concerning to them that this was the norm; people simply didn’t thirst for knowledge nor practical answers anymore. How bleak your life must truly be for you to purposefully shelter yourself from their fleeting tidbits of acquired wisdom that made life better worthy of living and dare they even say, exciting.

Was your sense of self preservation truly that important?

Was your life truly that worth living if that was all you had to say for yourself?

They sighed, wanting to lead the lesson in a particular direction instead. Your insolence for ignorance will be punished all in due time, regardless. “Because of a lot of things,” they continued once again, “but for the most part, it’s due to their lacking rationality.”

“Yeah?” you replied, feeding right into their trap. “Because they’re naïve?”

The entity nodded as they plucked a trinket from your stall, their voice adopting a more casual tone, “Correct. By having less control in their emotions and less understanding of the world around them, they’re more freely exposed to the chaos otherwise left unchained by the cursed realm. Which leads me to my next big question; where is a place that exists in the adult mind to let go of such sensibility and let our thoughts run free?”

Admittedly, this was fun in a way. You couldn’t help but want to solve the riddle they kept tempting you with. Perhaps you could technically dip into the depths of hell and indulge in something not too terribly condemning, after all, just far enough to get your answer.

“A dream?” you answered, thinking back to the mention of a nightmare from earlier before.

Suddenly the man erupted with almost excited glee, settling the object back into the stall as though reaching some sort of breakthrough with you, “So you were listening!” they genuinely praised, their voice becoming playful. “Very good, very good indeed. Dreams are where our souls roam free, succumbing to the chaos of irrationality and lacking structure alike. When you go to sleep, you’re entering the space between dreams and reality, potentially opening your mind up to the cursed realm and I'll bet you that any sort of oddity that you’ve ever come across while asleep, be it in an oddly realistic dream or nightmare, that you’ve witnessed it first hand yourself.”

“And you’re saying that dreams are a gateway to seeing those creepy things, or…?” you asked, trying to keep up yet again.

“Something of the sort, yes,” the man replied as they widened their creepy smile, “now, think clearly for me, will you?” they requested, snapping their fingers yet again as though to hold your focus lest you drifted away. “As an adult, just as you are now, when is a time that you can catch a glimpse into something unseen that lacks that same sort of rationality? You’re not a kid anymore, so you’re very likely at least a little jaded to the world, either through the hardships of life or due to possible trauma that has sculpted your reality... If one isn’t dreaming, then what option does that leave a non-sorcerer to be able to see cursed spirits?”

In a way however, you hated this guy for churning your mind and making you think such odd things.

…Something that existed between irrationality and the dream world?

Your head went to all sorts of places, but it seemed to all be herded towards one point in particular, leaving you suddenly uneasy with where this was all going as it all finally clicked.

With a lower voice that was just above a whisper, you entertained the question once more but with less confidence this time, “…a hallucination?”

“Very good! How clever you are,” the man replied although their voice seemed to now carry a particular coldness to it. “Let’s consider the fact that in order for a hallucination to bleed into the waking world, there have to be certain conditions applied to their psyche that are strong enough to both bend and warp their reality. This can be accomplished through a sudden trauma response such as psychosis or when facing something extreme. For example, for you, I’m going to give you a demonstration of something far simpler than driving you to insanity just yet, because you see, there’s a point in everyone’s lives that people all get to experience a great emotional stir—a moment that invites vulnerability to awaken, where hope no longer exists—such a slip of weakness right before the embrace of—“

“—death?” you finished up their sentence, interrupting their spiel.

“What a good student you are,” they praised once more, “such an academically gifted mind is surely worthy of a demonstration, don’t you think?”

Your mind blanked upon those words, opening itself up to both doubt and negativity just as they had planned for you to do so. So suddenly were you caught in between all of the readily thrown implications that they had otherwise casually implied.

You didn’t want any hand in any sort of offered demonstrations and yet you already knew that you very likely didn’t have a choice.

Without warning, you felt as though your own two feet fused themselves into the ground yet again but it wasn’t a fear response this time around. It was a slow pull that followed, but you gradually could feel as the air left your lungs by a squeezing unseen force. From a glance up, you could tell that this was their doing and that they were taking their good sweet time in doing so.

“Now, I must warn you…” the man threatened without as much breaking a sweat; their expression unwavering with nonchalance with their tone returning to something jovial, “my demonstration is likely to leave you… breathless, for a lack of better words.”

Unable to protest against the warning, you could only endure as the shifting weight of the air around you locked tight against your chest. The air, thick with something dry yet salivating at the same time scratched at your throat as the simple act of breathing quickly turned into an impossible task. It was as though the oxygen that was otherwise plentiful around you had turned solid and thereby became inaccessible.

Following another attempt, you desperately attempted to inhale only to be met with a pause. The air quite literally refused to enter your respiratory tract and your chest was left unable to expand with a breath no matter how hard you tried.

Panic was secondary upon the realisation that manifested in your system. You tried again and again to gasp, finding that it was all pointless—aimless even, since try as you might—the air remained static and unmoving.

But then a small fleeting sliver of hope slid through your system, whether it was accidental or on purpose, a slight teasing gust of air was granted back into your lungs. Such an act left you with very little comfort however as the world was already blurring all around you; dampening your barely contained light.

All that you could otherwise hear was your heartbeat that hammered loudly in your chest; reverberating like a stray bullet in a metal barrel, darting around in a deafening crescendo. Your chest then tightened once more, forcing your movements to feel sluggish, as though wading through condensed waters.

Yet, surely desperate as you were and refusing to meet your end just yet, you held on out of spite and then finally, you saw it.

Movement that wasn’t from the man alone.

Your vision still blurred, but just out of the corner of your eye, something sinister had since then materialised. Something that scurried off into the clinging shadows of the vicinity in the dead of your blurring eyes. Twisting forms of something grotesque that stared right back at you with skittish eyes.

So these were… cursed spirits?

You understood at long last and so perfectly well too. In a hurry to break away however, you backed up against your flimsy stall, not quite caring about the fragile trinkets that despite looking so dull clattered against the soft ground like clashing steel.

Swallowing hard, you felt your sense of rationality slip away as you caught sight of something malevolent and uninvited but then, as if suddenly, it all stopped. The burning in your lungs had subsided and clarity within your vision had been regained.

Looking up, you could see that their hand was no longer raised, although you were regarded with a curious, unblinking stare.

“W-what was… w-why did you…?” you couldn’t help but blabber as you tried to make sense of everything.

“Why?” they asked in the same tone of voice you cried out in as if to taunt you. “No reason, I just found you both… simultaneously boring yet curious, I suppose. Sorcerers offer their fun at times, but just regular old folk like you are worth the trouble too. It’s fascinating though, don’t you think? You have so little idea of the world around you and even with the amount of knowledge I keep repeatedly providing to you—you still insist on attempting to stay deliberately… ignorant.”

“K-keep on…?” you replied, simply repeating their words at this point. “I keep—what?”

“…Or are you finally getting it?” the man enquired, tilting their head to the side as they looked at you. “You know, I have been… studying you for this whole interaction, even way before you manifested yourself into being a merchant. Interesting choice by the way. I find it especially peculiar how you, someone otherwise unfamiliar with Jujutsu, were able to not trust me or what lies within me. Very observant, indeed. Last time this silly game of ours happened, you were much more lenient with my company, but I suppose you have learned since then.”

You stammered out another response yet again, “Manifested myself…?”

They hummed, seeming almost amused. “That’s right, manifested. But before that, do let me finish, why don’t you? I was going to say that your accusatory self wouldn’t have made it far, had you been a sorcerer with a mind like that. Could you believe it that the modern sorcerers of today aren’t paid to be so questioning and sceptical? They simply exist to do as they’re told and expel the endless negativity that is otherwise forged through the burden of humanity. It’ll never end, mind you, not as long as we as a species continue to exist.”

“So you’re… what? Against humanity or…?” you croaked out.

They shook their head with a refuting motion, “No, I’m for humanity, believe it or not. I want to see it prosper, grow and maybe even evolve. That’s why I have my interest in people like you, because why should the fun be limited towards curse users alone?”

“And you’re…” you tried to piece it all together, but couldn’t quite do it as nothing made sense anymore, “you’re… doing what exactly with me?”

“Or haven’t you realised it yet?” they questioned you, their smile faltering to a disappointed frown. “You have been flicking your eyes around the space from the moment we began the conversation, but you surely must have felt it from the very beginning, no? That this was no ordinary exchange and that your undoing had been predetermined from the start. Nothing is real; everything you see before you is fabricated and carefully orchestrated as a response from your own mind. I’m just playing along with it. You’re being distrusting because you don’t believe the faint glimmer of hope that I’m offering you because we had already been acquainted before. But worry not, the end is much closer than you think.”

You paled. “I’m dying…?”

“Maybe,” they replied almost playfully, not quite offering you a solid answer, “or maybe not. I’d prefer you didn’t let go until I’m done with you, but then again… you’re also no use to me if your brain has turned to mush.”

Not bothering with another reply, you tried to make sense of this whole thing by yourself instead. It was surely jarring as you made the realisation though, the hallucination left your immediate vision and revealed that you were instead in some sort of dingy, dank room instead.

A basement, perhaps?

Your eyes crept down, noticing that you were tied down to some sort of patient chair, like the type you would see at a dentist’s; your ankles and wrists strapped into looping holes that were drilled to the edges. Assorted bloodied instruments lay both on the tiled floor and on metal trays with strewn teeth and pried out fingernails collected in little glass jars.

Come to think of it, your hands felt surely raw and your mouth festered with the taste of trickling copper.

The man before you hovered nearby, holding onto a scalpel in one hand and a marker in the other.

With an almost excited tone, their voice now promised something chilling, “Now let’s see just how far these visions go if you were to be skinned alive.”

Blanking, you panicked and refused.

Which was how you now found yourself plunged somewhere new, playing the role of an adventurer roaming around an unreal world.

(And who truly knew what your next encounter could bring?)

[lafleshlumpeater]

hey lovely!!

maybe a luke castellan x fem!reader who’s suuuuper sweet? maybe an aphrodite kid, and jsut super kind and charming overall? nobody expects her and luke to be together, but how different they are ends up working?

thank you!!!

ofc<3

Warnings: fem!reader, small mention of food, PDA, one swear word, lmk if there are any missing

I hope you dont mind this is from percy’s pov<3

luke castellan masterlist part two

“No way,” Percy muttered under his breath, giving Charlie the same disbelieving look he was receiving back. "I don't believe it."

Charlie shrugged.

“Well, you’d better,” the boy whispered back. “Cause it looks like they got something serious, man.”

The pair watched in part disgust and part fascination as they watched the blissful pair across the fire. Luke had his chin rested on her shoulder, whispering something Percy assumed was flirtatious due to her flustered reaction- all pink cheeks and giggles as she reprimanded him playfully, pushing his chest. Luke remained unfazed, lips curling smugly and crossing his arms as he brushed a quick kiss against the plush of her cheek.

Charlie’s eyes widened further. “But how? They’re so-”

“Different?” Silena finished her boyfriend’s sentence, looking up from her charred marshmallow stick. “You’re not one to talk, Charles. Look at us. Besides, she makes him a completely different person. Look.”

The trio turned their heads once again, this time to the nauseating, in Percy’s opinion, sight of her feeding Luke pieces of sticky marshmallow, both of them giggling when it gets everywhere. Luke pokes his tongue out to get the last bits off of her fingers, and she squeals.

Percy’s nose wrinkles, turning to Charlie. “Disgusting.”

“Agreed,” Charlie nods with a grimace of his own. “It’s a miracle he got her, to be honest. She’s so…”

“Bubbly?”

“That.”

Charlie sighs. “I am happy for him, though. The both of them. Even if they are… terrifyingly different.”

Percy nods in agreement, heart swelling in joy for his first friend at camp. “Yeah.”

The older boy sighs. “They’re too mushy though,” he remarks.

Percy’s eyes narrow at the scene of the lovesick couple, now kissing tenderly with not even the fire casting fluctuating shadows over their faces able to hide the content of their expressions. “Not nice.”

Charlie inhales. “Oi!” he yells over the fire. “Too much PDA, man! Get a room!”

Laughter ripples through the air, and both guilty candidates break away, one unnaturally red- faced and the other tittering, finger hooked around the string of her partner's beaded necklace.

“Fuck off, man,” Luke complains loudly, eyes dancing with glee. “Leave me and my girl alone.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer than deemed possible.

She looked up at him, adoration gracing her soft features as she stared at her lover. “Don’t be mean, Luke.”

“He started it!”

(not proofread- lmk if there are any mistakes)

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[pedroshotwifey]

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?” 

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily. 

You’re both lying in his bed, completely bare. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him. 

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes? 

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be. 

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now. 

“Joel?” 

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore. 

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right. 

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes. 

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes. 

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year. 

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself. 

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you. 

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.” 

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you? 

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts. 

“You feel so good,” you whine. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure. 

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him. 

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—” 

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—” 

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face. 

You love him. You said it. And he believes you. 

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters. 

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin. 

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back. 

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back. 

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm. 

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time. 

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now. 

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat. 

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained. 

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria. 

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts. 

*****

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[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[surielstea]

Hangovers & tattoos

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader wakes up in Azriel’s bed with a mysterious tattoo that eerily matches his.

Warnings: slightly suggestive, all silly fluff though

2.4k words

Sunlight streamed through the open curtains haphazardly, my brows twitching together as I groggily pulled myself from the depths of sleep.

I awake with a groan, rubbing at my eyes that had been sealed shut. As soon as I open them I'm met with a horrible pound to my head, my entire body aching with every movement I make. I rolled onto my stomach, stuffing my head in the cold pillows with a huff.

I had to make an effort to peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I settled over the fact that going back to sleep would not be an option.

I twist onto my side, staring at a winged figure with his head against my pillows, dark hair cascading over his eyes. I smile at the sight of Azriel sleeping so peacefully. Then I realize he's sleeping so peacefully, in my bed. I jolt, scrambling away from his sleeping figure and inevitably tumbling off the mattress.

I hit the ground with a hard thud, followed by my hiss of pain as the hardwood sends paralyzing shock waves throughout my entire body.

Before I can collect myself I hear an incoherent mumble that came from the Shadow Singer. I tense, bending down to avoid being caught sneaking around in my own bedroom.

"Are you alright princess?" His voice was deeper than usual, still filled with sleep. I freeze for a moment, wondering how he had managed to know it was me, even if he did see me he was still half asleep. Then I quickly void that thought and curse myself for not thinking about his shadows, the same dark tendrils that were now twining around my ankles.

"I'm fine," Is all I can manage.

"Gods, my head is pounding," He grits out and I'm unsure if I should get back up onto the bed or stay down on the ground out of his sight, where I felt much safer.

Last night... it had been a blur entirely, the only thing I can remember is Cassian handing me and Azriel our first shot of the night, followed by many, many more. I clench my eyes shut, attempting to fish anything more from the night before out but I come up blank. "We didn't uh... did we?" I murmur, the pregnant silence is heavy as he thinks over the dilemma.

"Are you sore?" He says and I roll my eyes at his arrogance.

"No," I scoff.

"Then no, we didn't," He hums.

That hadn't been good enough, so I looked down at my outfit, a sigh of relief leaving me as I realized I was still wearing the same underwear from last night.

Last night when I seemed to obtain a case of amnesia. Cassian and Azriel had invited me to go out, Mor tagged along, and then... nothing. I had no idea why Azriel was in my bed or what drunk decisions I made to get that to happen.

Slowly, I rise from the floor and rush towards my wardrobe, still dressed in the short glittery dress I had boldly picked last night.

"What are you doing?" He rubs at his eyes, staring at me as I begin to take off the straps of my dress. I froze, realizing he was still there.

This headache wasn't making our situation any better.

"Changing?" I say, looking down at my rumpled outfit.

"This is my room," He said, sitting up from the pillows, the sheets falling off of him and revealing his bare chest, toned with rippling muscle. I swallow thickly, glancing around the room that was now so obviously not mine. I nearly crumbled from embarrassment, my cheeks tinging a scarlet red.

"Right, sorry, I'll go," I sidestep towards the door and his dark brows crease.

"Wait," He calls, slipping from the warm sheets I had gotten such amazing sleep in, and follows me to the door. "I'll make you breakfast, as a thank you for... whatever took place last night," He glances back to the bed and then back to me.

"You don't have to," I shake my head, eager to get out of the ordeal entirely.

"I want to, c'mon," His hand makes contact with my lower back as he guides me from his bedroom and down the long hallway.

I had been crushing on the Shadow Singer for over a year now. It had been unbearable to watch him bring other girls to bed since simple one-night stands with no connection aside from physical, but still, I wish I had even that amount of relation with him. But now he’s got his hand on my back, about to make me breakfast just because we woke up in the same bed together. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to get over him if I tried.

I made coffee while he worked on breakfast, my head felt as if it was swelling into my skull, a painful feeling that stabbed into the most sensitive parts of my brain.

I softly groaned as I poured a heaping spoonful of sugar into my steaming cup. I left Azriel's mug unattended, knowing he preferred the bitterness of it while I simply drank it for the caffeine, wanting to get rid of the taste altogether.

A low whistle sounds from down the hall, paired with a heavy set of footsteps that were unmistakably Cassian's. "Morning you two," The male said as soon as he spotted Azriel and us silently moving through the kitchen.

"Morning," Azriel grumbles but I can't even function enough to manage a reply. Cassian's hulking figure brushes past me and toward Azriel, where he had been by the stove. "Hands off," Azriel spat, and I hadn't been watching but I could only assume Cassian was attempting to steal from the pan while Azriel swatted him away.

"Hey, I didn't know you got a new tattoo," Cassian gasps and I whirl around to look at the two males, my eyes narrowing on a sketch of ink over the Shadow Singers' fourth finger, swirling down onto the back of his palm and wrapping up his wrist. Azriel looks at it as if he's never seen it before, his brows twitching together. Cassian gasps again and we look at him with expectant expressions, waiting for him to explain.

"That's a mating ceremony tattoo," He mumbled beneath his breath. Azriel’s eyes snapped to me like he had something to confess.

"A what?" I nearly choke on my own air. Mating? If Azriel was mated already there was no way in hel I'd ever have a chance. I knew I shouldn't have waited so long for him to ask me out, knew I should’ve asked him myself and faced rejection.

"A mating tattoo, matching with your significant other, you get them during the ceremony," He explains as if we genuinely hadn’t known what a mating tattoo is.

"That's ridiculous, I think I'd remember mating with someone, I wouldn't even know where to begin to find someone like that," Azriel scoffs, eyes now avoiding me at all costs and glancing up at the ceiling, to the stove where he had been cooking.

"Well then I suppose we need to find who has the matching tattoo," Cassian hums, then dramatically gasps louder than his last two, pulling his hands from his pockets and inspecting his unmarked hands.

"Oh thank gods," Azriel sighed in relief with a heavily sarcastic tone when recognizing that Cassian's hands were bare of ink.

"Cass be serious, you'd know if it was you," I argue, rolling my eyes at his idiocracy.

"You'd be able to feel something like that," I bring up my hands to show him.

“Az would probably know himself—" I start but I quickly cut myself off when I notice a black smudge on the bottom of my ring finger.

I flip my hands around and stare at them intently. The black tattoo on my left hand embedded into my skin as if it's always been there, and now that I knew I swore it pulsed with life. I ran my finger over it, then began to frantically rub at it, wondering if it’ll come off, if this was all some sick joke. But it remained, and then all of it came crashing down on me.

Mated tattoos. Mated. Azriel and I are mated.

"You're my," I couldn't even get the word out. "My," I breathed through the word, staring down at my hand, black ink wrapping around my wrist, up the back of my palm with swirls and wisps of black until twining around my ring finger entirely. Mine was much lighter than his, more delicate, but the same pattern nonetheless.

He held his hand out towards me, palm facing mine. I tentatively met it with my own, settling my palm against his, his hand much, much larger than mine yet somehow the tattoos had matched up, each line on my skin swirling into one on his.

"Gods, how drunk were we last night?" I sigh, a line coming between my brows.

I pull my hand away from his despite the magnetic force pushing us together telling me not to. "I'm going to leave you two to it," Cassian slowly removes himself from the uncomfortable situation.

"Wait, do you remember anything?" I whirl around to face him. He looks between us, and then his eyes go wide, staring at neither of us but rather what's between us, a golden tether tying our souls, binding them beyond just connection.

"Maybe ask Mor," He rubbed at the back of his head, and I knew with the movement that his hangover had been just as horrid as mine.

"Thanks anyway Cass," I mumble and he nods before excusing himself down the hall.

I slowly turned back to my coffee which was no longer steaming.

It was an effort to even swallow, the silence between us thick with tension, filled entirely with questions that don't have answers, and answers to questions we were too afraid to ask.

"So, mates, that's pretty cool," I mumbled beneath my breath and a smile curved at his lips, attempting to suppress the grin but ultimately failing.

"This is absurd," He shakes his head with a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be taken by The Frenzy?" I wonder, glancing over to him. He swallows and I watch as his throat bobs with effort, avoiding my gaze.

"Oh, I am,"

"What do you mean?" I spin around to face him, my mug cupped in my hands as I stare at him curiously.

"I hadn't noticed it at first, it's kind of how I always feel," He confesses and my brows crease, my confusion doubling over.

"Towards you I mean, I've known we're mates for a while now," His admission nearly makes me choke on my coffee.

"You didn't— why didn't you tell me?" I stutter, placing my cup down before I drop it. He had known all this time? Hasn't he picked up on the hints I had been attempting to give him? Or had he been dragging me along in fear I'd reject the bond?

"I would've told you sooner if I knew you'd find out like this," He gestures between us, at the golden line tethering my core to his I realize. "It's unfair," He adds.

"What is?"

"You were drunk, you didn't get to choose to accept it with good conscience," He explains with a sigh, my new mate clearly in distress about the events he could've avoided if he just confessed a day earlier. "And now you can't reject it, and I feel like I somehow forced it upon you," His hands fall to his sides in defeat and my heart softens. And maybe it was the power of the mating bond that gave me the confidence to take a step forward and grab his tattooed hand with my own.

"Azriel," I start, lacing his fingers through mine. "I would never have rejected you," I confess, looking into his eyes with only truth in my gaze. He stared for a moment, taking my words for what they promised.

"But we're friends," He argued, afraid we just ruined something that was already good, and I had known the feeling well for the past few years. But now I knew he felt the same way, and there were no longer any doubts I had about us being together.

"Did you only have feelings for me because you knew we were mates?" I tilt my head, taking another brave step forward.

"I uh— no, I liked you before," He stumbled over his sentence and a smile tugged at my lips at the effect I had on him when I got closer, my chest coming to press against his and he didn't move, we stand in the middle of the kitchen, not worried about the rest of the world around us.

"Good, we're even then," I nod.

"Even?" He arches a perfect brow.

"I liked you before, too," I confess and his eyes widen only a fraction, but it was a large reaction from the stoic Spymaster nonetheless.

"So, is it okay if I kiss you?" He asked quietly as if this was a forbidden act. Two mates kissing, so simple, yet held so much meaning.

"Yes Az, it's okay if you kiss me," I consent with a soft smile and he mirrors it, tentatively leaning in as he presses his lips to mine.

Something blooms in the pit of my stomach, something that's always been sprouting there but never had the nutrients to grow. Though, as he kissed me everything had felt so complete, like a puzzle piece I had been trying to solve for years slotting into place.

He pulls back and I think to follow him but instead, I allow the separation and look up at him with a bashful smile. His eyes are glazed over with something I haven't seen before, a mix of adoration and lust. He presses his lips to mine again, this time more confidently with little hesitation as he cups my jaw in one of his hands while the other wraps around my waist, pulling me into him.

"You feel The Frenzy now?" I whisper against his lips and he nods eagerly. "It's fucking, painful," He sighs, needing me closer, so much closer. "There's only one way to fix that, hm?" I taunt and his grin turns wolfish. "You're sure Princess?" He arches a brow and I now with a willing smirk. "Please," I hum, pecking up the side of his jaw.

With that, he swooped me up into his arms and practically winnowed us back to his bedroom, making me giggle in both delight and surprise as we landed hard on the bed I woke up in this morning.

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[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[xxselenite]

٠ ࣪⭑ Mardy bum

modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader [no use of y/n] Word count: 2k Summary: Based on this request, “i’d like to ask for modern jace x f!reader where after a silly/nonsense argue that turned bigger, jace shows up to her flat with flowers, apologies and his puppy eyes, and then a late night driving with no destination” Warning: none, the beginning is maybe a bit angst but it’s fluff! a/n: The title is from the Arctic Monkey’s song, I felt like it fits perfectly. I really hope you’ll like it anon <3. As always, English isn’t my first language so I apologise in advance for any possible grammatical and/or lexical mistake! feedback is welcome and appreciated <3(images are taken from pinterest)

Your phone rang yet another time. You didn’t need to glance at it to know it was Jacaerys calling you again – he had not stopped since your argument earlier that day. Listening to the thirty first seconds of your favourite song was getting on your nerves, but you refused to put your phone on mute. Deep down, you wanted to know that he was calling you to apologise, you wanted to know he felt bad about what had happened. It was probably a little selfish and toxic, but you couldn’t care less.

Looking back on it, it was all a bit dumb. Everything had started when you had joined Jace to was walk to your flat at the end of his shift. He was discussing with a few colleagues when you had arrived and you had made a comment afterwards about one of his coworkers who was obviously making eyes at him, although your boyfriend was oblivious to her attempts at flirting. Your comment was supposed to be a sarcastic joke, nothing serious, but Jace had thought you were exhibiting jealousy. In return, he had made a comment which was also meant to be a joke, but you had believed he was angry at you for being jealous, which you were not, and it had turned into a scene.

Maybe you were a little jealous, but you trusted Jace. Everyone was at his feet but he only saw you, and you knew he would not cheat on you – he wouldn’t even think about that, proof was, he did not notice when someone was hitting on him! Still, it was sometimes hard to remain calm when people were trying to hit on your boyfriend when you were right there. The disrespect bothered you more than anything else.

Similarly to the first few arguments you had gotten into with Jace, it had ended up with you crying and struggling to find your words, Jace not knowing how to calm you down, and you slamming the door of your flat at his face. Usually, though, you would manage to come back to your senses in a matter of minutes and he would wait behind your door until you opened to him, both apologising at the same time, and everything was back to normal after a cuddling session.

Not this time though. Maybe you were physically tired, the past few days had been exhausting at work and you needed a nap, maybe it was emotional tiredness building up and you hadn’t had time to unwind, maybe both. Regardless of the reason, the moment the door shut behind you, your sobs got even more violent and paralysing. You let yourself fall onto your bed, head against the pillow, crying until there were no tears left in your eyes. And your phone had rung the entire time.

The night had fallen on the city when you heard ringing again. Instead of your phone, it was your interphone. You weren’t expecting anyone but you stood up anyway, a bit dizzy because of the speed of your movement, and walked towards the entrance to answer.

“Hello?” You said hesitantly.

The sighed of relief of your boyfriend on the the line startled you, but thinking about it, it made sense he would be the one ringing. “Hey babe. Let me in, please.” You could hear the worry in his voice and felt a little guilty. All this time you had ghosted him, not once the thought that he was getting scared had crossed your mind. For him, he had left you alone in your flat in a state of distress, of course, he had overthought this situation a bit more each time you had refused to answer.

“Come in,” you answered with a breath as you clicked on the button to open the door of your building.

You knew it’d take him a few minutes to reach your door and you used this time to make sure you were presentable. Tears had carved red, shiny marks on your cheeks and your hair was a mess. You splashed some water on your face, brushed your hair and took an aspirin for the headache that your breakdown had created. You did not look your best, but at least you weren’t a monster when you look at your reflection in the mirror.

You had just thrown out the tissues on your desk when Jace knocked on your door. You hurried up to open to him, ready to pull him into a hug and apologise but he stopped you by handing you a giant bouquet of your favourite flowers before you could do a move.

“I’m sorry for overacting the way I did,” he immediately said. “I felt bad about my own obliviousness to see flirt and subsequent inability to stop it and I didn’t know how to show this. I never wanted to make you feel like I was blaming you, and I sincerely apologise if I hurt you.”

You looked at him dumbfounded for a second, then a smile appeared on your face alongside tears of relief in your eyes as you grabbed the bouquet, put it on the nearest table and wrapped your arms around Jace’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered as you buried your head in the crook of his neck. His arms closed around you, embracing you tighter and stroking your back. “I’ve been really tired these days and I think I sort of unleashed my frustration onto you, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured back. He grabbed your shoulders to look at you in the eyes and gently wiped the tear that was rolling on your cheek without you even realising it. You looked back at his puppy eyes and butterflies appeared in your stomach. His soft gaze was still making you feel like the blushing teenager you were when you had met him. There was no aggressiveness in those eyes, only worry, guilt, and love so sincere it rendered you speechless.

“You know,” his voice got you out of your contemplation, “you can talk to me when you’re tired. I’ll never think you’re being dramatic or annoying,” he added before you could say a thing. “I’m your boyfriend and I’m here for you when you’re happy, but also when you need to complain about everything and everyone.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss on the freckles on the tip of his nose.

“And I want you to know, I trust you Jace. Wholeheartedly. Now give me a second, I’m gonna put those flowers in a vase.”

“Do you like them?” He asked as he finally left your threshold to enter your flat.

You looked over your shoulder with a bright smile, the kind of smile he said illuminated the room. “Are you kidding? They are fantastic, it’s my favourites!”

“I know,” the boy chuckled. “That’s why I bought them.”

Your smile got mellow as you poured water into a glass vase.

“I can’t believe you remembered. I must have mentioned it like, once!”

“I would be a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t remember this type of thing..”

“Still, you’re a great boyfriend because you did.”

Your stomach’s rumbling broke the magic of the moment. You turned towards your boyfriend, mentally praying that Jace had not heard it but the smile on his face told you otherwise.

“How about we go out tonight?” He asked you, leaning against a counter. The smugness on his face made you suspicious, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Hum… Anything in mind?”

“How about a take-out and a ride outside of town?”

You pretended you were thinking, although you already knew what your answer would be. Twirling a finger around your finger, you said:

“Okay but on one condition.”

“Which one?”

“I choose the food.”

And no sooner said than done, you were sitting in Jace’s car in your usual passenger princess demeanour, using your power over the music to play all of the cheesy love songs your boyfriend complained about, although you highly suspected he secretly loved them –and the slight bobbing of his head was giving it away.

You had left the city and were going in towards of the panoramic road that followed the sinuous cliffs along the coastline. You had no goal in mind now that had eaten your meal, only enjoying each other’s presence far from the distraction and hullabaloo of the city.

At one point, your boyfriend’s hand found its way to your knee, gently tapping on it at the rhythm of the music. The sky was clear on this night, and the stars were shining hard, little dots forming drawings on the black blanket above you. You stared at them in awe before remembering what you had planned on telling Jace before he gave you the bouquet.

You lowered the music and cleared your throat to get Jace’s attention. He glanced at you for a split second before focusing on the road again, making it clear he was listening.

“Seriously though, I wasn’t really jealous earlier. I was just trying to make a joke, which pathetically failed. I guess I can forget about getting a career as a stand-up comedian.”

The boy nodded to acknowledge your words, his dark curls following the movement in a way that drove you crazy.

“And even if I was jealous,” you kept going, “as I said, I trust you. I know you love me and you can’t even see other prospects. The only person I could be angry at would be the ones hitting on you, and you know what, apart from those who know me, I can’t even fully blame them! It’s not their fault you are kind, and funny, and smart, and,” you sighed, “insanely handsome.”

Jace chuckled in a low tone as he grabbed your hand to press a kiss on its back.

“That’s just because I try to match my kind, funny, smart, and insanely beautiful girlfriend.”

Your laughter echoed his as you freed your hand from his grip, putting a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I adore the flattery, but when we’re driving alongside the cliffs, I’d rather have you keep both hands on the steering wheel.”

Jace immediately followed your request and you kept driving for several minutes in silence, the cicadas down the cliffs covering the music. You opened the window of your seat, letting the cold air of the night hit your face. It was like getting whipped, but you closed your eyes and appreciated the feeling – it was one of the things that reminded you that you were alive.

You eventually reached a part where the road got better, the cliff forming a hollow large enough for people to park in. Near the side of the road, flowers and trees had managed to grow despite the poor soil. It was a lovely place where you had always wanted to bring Jace for a picnic. A very romantic spot, if you ignored the cars driving by – fortunately, it was a calm night with no one else on the road, giving you the impression the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Stop here,” you told Jace who pulled over.

You got out of the car and he promptly followed you. Crossing the road, you sat down on the edge of the cliff, legs swinging over meters of void above the black sea, and you grabbed his hand to invite him to do the same.

“And you said I was reckless because I was holding your hand while driving,” he laughed but followed you nonetheless. He trusted you as much as you trusted him, and if he didn’t say it, he showed it in little ways like this one.

You rested your head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer. “You hear that?” You whispered against his ear. Under your feet, the waves were crashing against the cliff with violence, yet at a stable rhythm that created a ballet of sea foam and a sense of beauty. “The ocean’s singing.”

Jace pressed a kiss in your hair. “You know that the Velaryons were famous for their ships,” he murmured. “It is said that they rode their fleet across the seven seas, and that their bond with the ocean never disappeared.”

“Really?” You smiled, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. “Then tell me what the ocean is saying right now.”

Jace kept quiet for a minute or two listening to the roaming of the waves before answering.

“It’s saying I love you.”

[03jyh23]

🚪⌇not like the previous ones┆kang yeosang

yeosang x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where i love you scares the life out of you

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: anxiety, insecurity in relationships, feelings of guilt and regret, past trauma from previous relationships mentioned

│words: 3.3 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│the requested prompts are bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! the time has finally come for my first yeosang fic~ when i saw the request sangie was the first member that came to my mind so i just went for it! thank you for requesting!

love, monika ♡

It was a late evening, and you were comfortably curled up against Yeosang, enjoying the warmth and closeness as you both settled in to watch a movie he had chosen. He had promised that next time, he would watch Titanic with you, knowing how much you loved it. However, for this evening, he was especially eager to watch the latest Marvel movie recently added to the streaming platforms. You could feel Yeosang's excitement radiating through as he explained why he was so looking forward to this film. His body was warm, and the sensation of feeling him so near provided you with a comfort you hadn’t felt in a long while. Yeosang and you had just recently started dating, and it was difficult for you to open up to someone new. Letting yourself go and releasing all the worries and wounds your earlier relationships had left you with was not easy. Yet, Yeosang was so gentle and patient with you that you couldn't help but start gravitating toward him. Your eyes drifted away from the TV screen for a moment, only to find Yeosang staring at you with his pretty, brown eyes. Those eyes, which seemed to see nothing but you, held a world of warmth and affection. You smiled gently at him, your brow furrowing slightly as you mouthed, "What?" His gaze was so tender that it made your heart flutter. 

Yeosang opened his mouth only to close it again. He smiled at you, and you swear you could melt at the way his eyes smiled, creating those crescent moons. You giggled softly, feeling shy all of a sudden, and you put your head on his shoulder, leaning even closer to him. As the movie played on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the screen, your mind drifting to how fortunate you felt to have someone like Yeosang by your side. He gently wrapped his arm around you, the simple gesture made your heart flutter, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. The comfort you felt in his presence was something you hadn't experienced in a long time, and it made you realize just how much you had needed to feel this way. 

You tried to focus on the movie, but your fluttering heart made it hard to do so. Every scene seemed to blur together as your mind wandered. After a small while, your eye caught a glimpse of Yeosang staring at you once again. You felt warmth spreading throughout your face, a blush creeping up your cheeks. 

Yeosang didn't look away; instead, he smiled gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. That smile was enough to make you feel like the most special person in the world. You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of happiness. The movie played on, but it was clear that neither of you was paying much attention to it anymore. 

"Sangie!" You smiled, punching his arm gently. "You wanted to watch the movie, yet you aren't paying attention!" 

Yeosang chuckled softly, rubbing the spot where you had playfully punched him. "I can't help it," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "I find you much more interesting than any movie." His words made your heart flutter even more. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks and tried to hide your face by snuggling closer into his shoulder. Yeosang tilted his head slightly, resting it on top of yours. "You know, you don't have to hide from me," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. 

"You just... you are too sweet, and it's embarrassing how red my face probably is right now," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks, and you were certain that your face was now a deep shade of crimson. 

Yeosang's hand gently traced small circles on your back, his touch soothing and reassuring. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he murmured softly. "I think it's adorable." 

His words made your heart flutter even more, and you couldn't help but smile against his shoulder. "I just... I'm not used to someone being so kind and caring," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It's a little overwhelming." 

Yeosang gently moved his arms away from you, his hands on your shoulders, making you stop hiding your face, so you were facing each other. His touch was tender, and the sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. You could feel your heart racing, the vulnerability of the moment making you feel both exposed and cherished. 

He took a deep breath as if to steady himself, and without much thought, he blurted out, "Y/N, of course I treat you kindly. I mean, that's how you show you love a person." 

You felt your heart sink, and panic rushed through you. The words echoed in your mind, and you found it hard to breathe. Yeosang noticed your reaction and quickly added, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just... I love you, Y/N. And I want you to know that you're safe with me." 

You abruptly backed away from Yeosang's hold, swallowing hard. Your eyes couldn't focus, your thoughts were racing. Even when you opened your mouth to answer, nothing came out. 

Yeosang's expression shifted instantly, concern clouding his face. He reached out tentatively, yet you smoothly escaped from his touch. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong," he murmured, his voice tinged with worry. 

"I... um... I just, yeah thank you but you should really get going," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy, laden with the weight of your insecurities and fears. You couldn't meet Yeosang's eyes, afraid of seeing the hurt and confusion that you knew would be there. 

There was a moment of silence, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Yeosang hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to respect your wishes and the urge to stay and comfort you. Finally, he nodded slowly, his expression a mix of sadness and understanding. "Okay," he said softly, his voice gentle. With that, he stood up and made his way to the door, leaving you alone with your swirling emotions and the lingering warmth of his presence. 

The night was spent in creeping and paralyzing guilt, that held you in a chokehold. Every time you closed your eyes, the scene replayed in your mind: Yeosang's hurt expression, the way his shoulders slumped as he walked out the door, and the heavy silence that followed. You tossed and turned, unable to find any semblance of peace. The weight of your insecurities and fears bore down on you, making it difficult to breathe. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had pushed away someone who genuinely cared for you, someone who had only shown you kindness and patience. The guilt gnawed at you, making sleep an impossible task. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, wishing you could turn back time and handle the situation differently. The night stretched on, each minute feeling like an eternity as you were held captive by your own remorse and regret. 

You lost count of how many times you picked up your phone and tried to type any sort of text to Yeosang, yet nothing seemed to be suitable. Each time you began to write, your fingers would hover over the keyboard, paralyzed by doubt and fear. You would type a few words, only to delete them moments later, convinced they weren't enough to convey what you truly felt. You wanted to apologize, to explain, to assure him that your reaction was a result of your own insecurities and not a reflection of his actions. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't find the right way to express the turmoil inside you. The more you struggled, the more frustrated you became, until eventually, you would put your phone down with a heavy sigh, the message unsent and your heart still aching. 

A few days passed, and you tried to fall back into your routine to keep your thoughts in check. You immersed yourself in anything that could distract you, but the emptiness left by Yeosang's absence was hard to ignore. During those days, you found yourself repeatedly checking your phone, hoping for a message from Yeosang, but the screen remained stubbornly blank. Each day without a word from him felt like a sharp pang in your heart, making it harder to hold onto the hope that things could be mended. 

You knew it was high time to start making peace with the undeniable truth: you had lost Yeosang. 

Or maybe you should just reach out to him like an adult should, and face your insecurities? After all, you owed it to yourself and him to be honest about your feelings and fears. But then again, what if Yeosang had just given up on you? What if he did not want to be there for you, ever? The thought of losing him for good made your heart ache even more. Yet, despite these fears, you could not ignore how kind and attentive he had always been. If he genuinely loved you, wouldn't he reach out himself? But perhaps he was waiting for you to make the first move, to show that you were willing to open up and fight for the relationship. 

It was yet another evening you spent sprawled out on your couch. You had already binge-watched half of the season of the hottest drama, and it started to tire you. The dramatic scenes on the screen seemed distant, unable to hold your attention any longer. Lying down, munching on chips, and watching TV had indeed made you tired. 

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but no amount of rearranging seemed to ease the discomfort within you. 

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts drifted back to that night with Yeosang. The memory of his hurt expression and the sadness in his eyes haunted you. You replayed the scene over and over in your mind, wishing you could go back and handle things differently. 

The ceiling above you offered no answers, just a blank canvas for your swirling thoughts. You wondered what Yeosang was doing, if he was thinking about you too, or if he had already moved on. All you could do was lie there, staring at the ceiling, and hope that somehow, you would find the courage to face your fears and reach out to Yeosang. 

A sudden doorbell ring startled you, sending a jolt through your body. Your heart began to race, the unexpected sound breaking the silence and stillness of your evening. With each step toward the door, you felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through you. You could barely hold your curiosity and hope as you reached for the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you. Finally, with a sense of urgency and a fluttering heart, you swung the door open, revealing Yeosang standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. His eyes met yours, and you could see a mix of hope and apprehension in them. The sight of him standing there, flowers in hand, made your heart skip a beat. 

"Yeosang," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. The sight of him standing there, so close yet seemingly so far, made your heart ache. 

"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth. "I know we left things in a pretty rough spot, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. I wanted to make things right." 

"I'm so sorry—" you managed to say before Yeosang interrupted you. 

"No, please, let me speak first," he said, his voice urgent yet tender. "I've missed you so much, and I can't stand the thought of us being apart because of.... whatever that was. I want to be with you, Y/N, and I want to help you through whatever you're feeling." His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and a deep yearning. You nodded slowly as you felt a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through you. "I am not like the previous assholes that played with you," Yeosang began, his voice trembling slightly as he took a deep breath. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with determination and sincerity. "I know you've been hurt before, and I understand that it's hard for you to trust again. But I'm not them." He paused, his gaze never wavering, giving you time to absorb his words. 

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, and you could feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you. 

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to show you that," he continued, his voice steadying but still filled with emotion. "If earning your love means proving myself repeatedly, that's what I'll do. Because I truly love you." He paused again, his eyes searching for any sign of understanding. "I am ready to work through every challenge, every fear, and every doubt with you," he said, his voice growing stronger with each word. "You can't get rid of me that easy." A small, determined smile appeared on his face, and you could see the resolve in his eyes. "I want to be there for you, to support you, and to make sure you feel safe and cherished," he said, his voice softening as he took a step closer, finally entering your apartment. The proximity made your heart flutter even more, "We can take this one step at a time, together." 

You felt a surge of emotion, your eyes welling up with tears. The vulnerability in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes made you realize just how much he cared for you. Your heart swelled with gratitude and love, and you knew that this was a moment you would always cherish. 

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of relief and lingering fear. You took a few steps closer, finally closing the distance between you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rested your cheek on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, which momentarily made you relax. Yeosang’s scent enveloped you, a familiar and comforting aroma that brought back memories of your first date. You noticed he had put on the cologne you had complimented back then, a small but significant gesture that showed how much he cared. 

"I never wanted to leave in the first place," he replied, his voice filled with earnestness. Yeosang finally wrapped one arm around you, pulling you gently but firmly closer. His head rested on top of yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your hair. The worries and insecurities that had plagued you for days began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully absorb the comfort and love that radiated from Yeosang. 

"I've missed this," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. 

"Me too," he replied softly, his voice vibrating through his chest and into your ear. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." 

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart, and you couldn't help but tighten your embrace, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline. You looked up at him as you pulled out of the hug, smiling softly at him. You couldn't even begin to describe how glad you were to see him again, to hear and feel how much he cared. The emotions that had been swirling inside you for days seemed to settle, replaced by a sense of peace and relief. 

Yeosang finally handed you the flowers, "These are for you," he said gently, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. 

You took the bouquet from him, your fingers brushing against his momentarily. The flowers were beautiful, vibrant, and fresh, and they brought a smile to your face. You couldn't help but bring them to your nose, inhaling their delicate fragrance. 

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. The simple act of receiving the flowers made you feel cherished and valued in a way you hadn't felt before. "Nobody ever got me flowers," you whispered, your voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. 

Yeosang's expression softened even more, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, get used to it," he said gently, his voice filled with warmth. "Because I plan on giving you many more flowers, and so much more." 

"I am so stupid for not telling you then, but I love you too, Sangie," you confessed in a rush, your voice trembling with emotion. 

Yeosang couldn't help but smile at your confession, yet he quickly composed himself and took a few steps back, confusing you. Then his eyes widened right before he looked down on the floor. He ran his hand through his hair, and your heart dropped. You watched him closely, trying to decipher his sudden change. The room seemed to grow quieter, the tension thickening with each passing second. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. Yeosang took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—surprise, uncertainty, and something else you couldn't quite place. He seemed to be grappling with his thoughts, the silence stretching on and making you feel more anxious. 

"Oh..." he gasped loudly, his eyes widening in mock surprise before continuing, "Um… I mean, thanks, but I better get going," he teased, his voice dripping with fake urgency as he mimicked your reaction from a few days ago. 

You couldn't help but scoff at his words, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. You playfully punched his arm, the force light but enough to convey your amusement. Bursting into laughter, you shook your head at his antics. "You jerk," you said, giggling uncontrollably as you remembered the original incident he was referring to. 

Yeosang laughed along with you, his eyes shining with joy. "I couldn't resist," he admitted, wrapping his arms around you once more. "But seriously, I love you, and I'm here to stay." His words were filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with happiness. 

You looked up at him, feeling a sense of relief and warmth wash over you. "I love you too, Yeosang," you whispered, your voice steady and sincere. "And I'm ready to face everything with you. No more running away." 

Yeosang's smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "That's all I needed to hear," he murmured against your skin. "We'll take it one step at a time, together." 

You nodded, feeling a newfound sense of hope and determination. With Yeosang by your side, you knew you could face anything. The fears and insecurities that had once held you back began to fade, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you were not alone. 

"So, about that Titanic showing?" Yeosang asked, a playful glint in his eyes. 

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yeah, I think we can make that happen," you replied, smiling up at him. "How about tomorrow night?" 

Yeosang's eyes lit up with excitement. "It's a date," he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. 

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

│ it has come to my attention that a lot of ageless/blank blogs have started to interact with my fics. while i appreciate your interest in my writing, i want to remind everyone that my blog is for adults only. it only takes a moment to personalize your blog and add your age. please take a moment to do so. this way, it will be easier for everyone and will save me from having to go through all my notifications to block blank/ageless blogs.│

[am3ricanh0rrorwh0re]

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐊𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

paring: asylum!kit walker x fem!reader

cw: angst-y, fluffy? mentions of torture, mentions of electroshock therapy, basic briarcliff stuff, i didn’t really know what to tag this tbh

word count: 965

Six months and fourteen days. That’s how long you’ve been in Briarcliff. Despite all the electroshock, you still remembered, carving it into a wall behind your bed with a spoon.

There he was. Kit fucking Walker. The hottest man in this goddamn hellhole. The one person in there that actually had a sane head on their shoulders, apart from you, of course. Unbeknownst to you, Kit thought you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in this place, even with the black spots on his vision.

“God, I hope she’s okay…” Kit would think to himself as he watched Sister Jude’s goonies rip you away to one fucked-up ‘treatment’ or another. And every time, just like clockwork, Kit would cup your face, telling you to look at him, making sure you’re okay. Well, as okay you could be after hours of switching between scalding hot and below-freezing cold tubs of water.

“They didn’t hurt ‘cha too bad, did they…?” Kit asked hesitantly, taking a drag of the cigarette he held in his mouth as he moved a chess piece on the board. You leaned into your forearms that were resting on the table as you gazed at him with distant, dilated eyes. God, he was dreamy. The way he looked at you..those caring, concerned, dark brown irises drilling right into your heart.

You shook your head. “N-Nothing too extreme,” You mumbled, knocking one of his chess pieces. “Hydrotherapy,”

Kit let out a soft tsk, taking another drag from his cig before offering it to you. You shake your head, watching him put it back between his lips. You traced the shape of his lips, the cupids bow, even the small gash on the right corner of his upper lip.

“So’re you a chainsmoker or something?” You chuckle. Kit lets out a half-assed scoff, a small smirk playing at his lips.

His eyes scanned your beautiful, beautiful face. You were like a good bottle of alcohol to him, and he was completely inebriated by you. The way your lips moved with each syllable you spoke, how your tongue danced in your mouth, how your eyes darted whenever you were nervous. How he wanted to make your eyes roll back, see you bite your swollen, kiss-starved lips as you stared up at him, begging him to fuck you just by giving him a single look.

Kit wanted to take you out of here. He wants to take you far, far away from this hell. Somewhere safe..back to his home. A place where he could hold you, hug you, kiss you..A place where he could be alone with you. Where he could love you like he couldn’t here, give you a life you deserved, with him. And you wanted the same. You’d beg to whatever entity there was above, wishing, praying that you’d be able to run away with Kit.

You smiled tiredly at Kit, his earthy irises taking in that tired, plastered smile. Kit nudged your foot under the table, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’m gonna get ’cha outta here, i promise. I-I’ll take ya’ someplace safe. ’Ya won’t suffer anymore, i won’t let anythin’ hurt you…”

You nod, kicking his foot back with a soft ‘i hope you’re not lying to me’ smile. Kit had promised that at least once a day, reminding you that he wouldn’t abandon you the moment he had a way out of this place. He was taking you with him, one way or another, no doubt about it.

If only he knew how much you wanted him. And if only you knew he shared those feelings too. If only you know what went on in his mind..

taglist: @fear-is-truth , @dangeroustaintedflawed , @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser

@evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog

@jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow

[ghostofaboy]

Finally and Final

Pairing: Javier Peña/Steve Murphy Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 2444

Warnings: Hand job, period typical homophobia, infidelity

Summary: At first, Javi believes Steve is angry with him, but it turns out it's something else entirely.

Note: This has not been beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. My first time writing Stavier, but I fucking love them as a pairing. This was a request from Anonymous as part of my 100 Follower Celebration.

It was clear Steve was still mad at him. Only the week before, he'd shoved Javi up against the wall in the embassy, hissing accusations in his face before storming off. Javi hadn’t done what Steve accused him of, of course he hadn’t, but he did need Steve to be onboard with what came next in the fight with Escobar. 

But in that moment, instead of defending himself, all Javi had been able to think about was Steve's breath on his face, how warm his hands were and how hard Steve had made him. Heading home, Javi had jacked off to the thought in the shower, covering the tiles in his come before climbing into bed and pushing the deviant thoughts of his partner out of his mind.

Now Escobar was out of his bullshit prison and the hunt was back on, that should have been good news. Except, Steve’s wife Connie had also returned to Miami, leaving Steve a drunken mess. He’d been damn lucky Messina hadn’t sent him home then and there. Javi had vouched for him, explained the situation, and that seemed to be good enough for their new boss. Javi had thought it would also be good enough to win Steven over. But apparently not.

Now Steve was glaring at him as they went over tedious reports filled with nothing that was remotely helpful to their goals for finding Escobar once more. As he looked up from his desk, Javi could see those blue eyes were analyzing him, watching his every movement, taking in every detail.

“What?” Javi finally snapped, prompting a smirk from Steve. “You’ve been staring at me all fucking day.”

“No law against it.” Steve’s drawl sounded thicker than usual and as he glanced to the other agent’s left, Javi spotted an empty whiskey glass sitting on Steve’s desk.

“Damn it Murphy.” Javi ran a hand down his face, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You’re drunk? Here? Are you serious?”

“I’m not fuckin’ drunk.” Steve scowled.

“Then quit fucking staring at me.” Javi frowned. “Or else people’ll think you’re sweet on me.”

It had been a throwaway line. A joke meant to break the tension. Something that Javi had said to Steve a thousand times before and gotten a “fuck you” or a laugh from. But as the words left his mouth, Javi watched in fascination as Steve’s face flushed, his eyes trained on Javi’s lips and a flicker of embarrassment danced across his handsome face.

“Fuck this.” Steve muttered, pushing himself up from his desk abruptly and striding out of the office space. “I need a break.”

Javi just sat there watching Steve’s ass as he left, the realization of the moment hitting him and twisting inside him uncomfortably. Sure, he’d been lusting after Steve since the blond had landed in Bogotá, but Steve was married. And up until very recently happily married. Lusting after someone he knew he couldn’t have was one thing, Javi was used to it whenever he met a handsome man. But the slither of possibility that Steve’s eyes had offered him just then was something Javi hadn’t had to deal with before, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

#####

Steve hadn’t returned to his desk by the time the sky went dark outside and the men of the Search Bloc were chatting about calling it a day. Glancing around as they filled out, Javi knew he had to go find Steve, but quietly without drawing attention. Grabbing his gun, jacket and pack of cigarettes, Javi set out to start checking all the places the blond could have slipped off to.

It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to find Steve. After checking the cafeteria, bunks and bathrooms, Javi had remembered something Steve had said about an unsecured outbuilding on the every edge of the school grounds where Search Bloc, and themselves, were now based. It was filled with old boxes of files, the original contents of which were far too water damaged to make sense of. Whatever it had originally been used for, Javi had no idea, but as he quietly made his way over to the boarded up structure, sure enough there was a small light inside.

Sitting on a chair that looked like it was a stiff breeze away from collapsing was Steve, thumbing through a very beat up looking magazine. At his feet an old lantern was giving off a soft warm glow, although how wise it was to have that in a room filled with paper, Javi wasn’t sure. Approaching the slightly ajar door, Javi coughed lightly, prompting Steve to quickly roll up the magazine and raise his head to meet his partner’s gaze before dropping it back down slowly.

“What are you doing out here, Murphy?” Javi slipped inside before leaning against the door frame. The whole room smelt of damp, musty paper and sweat.

“Just thinkin’.” Steve offered a lopsided smile, still not meeting Javi’s eyes. “You were lookin’ for me?”

“Course I was.” Javi took a step forward to crouch in front of Steve, trying to get him to look at Javi. “Was worried about you.”

“Yeah?” Steve let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m ok. I just needed…” Steve trailed off, shrugging and running his thumb over the worn magazine.

“Look, about before-”

“Forget it.” Steve shook his head. “Look, get outta here, man. You’ve got better things to do than babysit my sorry ass.”

“True.” Javi gave a small laugh. “But I don’t want to just leave you here like… this. You wanna go grab a drink?”

Steve just shook his head. “Not really in a social mood.”

“Fair enough.” Javi nodded, letting silence fill the space. Not moving from his position in front of Steve, Javi found his eyes being drawn to the rolled up magazine that the other man was still clutching. 

Steve had rolled it up as soon as Javi had come in, not letting the other man get a look at what it was. Small pieces of the faded cover peeked out from between Steve’s fingers, and Javi knew immediately what kind of magazine it was. He had plenty of them at home and the more he looked, the more skin he could see, then a nipple. Yeah, he had plenty of these at his apartment.

Looking over Steve slyly, Javi started to take in the details he’d missed when he’d first entered the small building. Steve’s flushed cheeks, the crumpled up pieces of paper he’d used to clean up with, and the most obvious, the not quite zipped up fly of his jeans.

“You, er, you want me to leave you for some more quality alone time?” Javi chuckled, motioning to the magazine in Steve’s hand, watching as the other man’s face grew redder.

“It’s not like that.” Steve’s eyes shot up. “I mean, I just found it and-”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” Javi held his hands up in mock surrender. “You know how many of those I’ve got at my place? Which one is it, maybe I’ve got it?”

Steve didn’t answer, his hands curling tighter around the magazine, as his eyes studied Javi’s face. At first, Javi was confused. Sure, Steve was married, but every guy jacks off, right? So what if he’d found a dirty magazine and spanked one out. But then, achingly slowly, it started to dawn on Javi why Steve was reacting like this. The beads of sweat on his temple, his large dark pupils as he watched Javi lick his bottom lip, the twitch under his jeans that not even the thick denim could hide.

“Like I said,” Javi swallowed hard, locking eyes with Steve, “maybe I’ve got that one.”

Steve nodded, understanding Javi’s meaning, and slowly loosened his grip on the magazine. Gradually, it unfurled in Steve’s trembling hand, letting Javi get a better glimpse at the oiled up ass cheeks on the man on the cover. Huh, he did have that one at home, Javi thought as he pushed down an amused chuckle. 

“You got a favorite in there?” Javi growled out, locking his eyes with Steve’s again as he reached for the zipper of the other man’s jeans. “I like the one near the end. The one dressed like a cowboy.” Tugging the denim open, Javi carefully pulled out Steve’s hardening cock. “I like his ass. You?”

“Yeah.” Steven nodded, licking his lips and shifting his hips to help Javi free his dick. “Yeah, he’s… he’s hot. Nice thick… fuck… nice cock.”

“Yeah.” Javi began to slowly pump Steve, pulling a gasp from the blond. “You know, I used to watch the guys my dad would hire. There was one, when I was about 16, he’d get changed in the barn. He knew I watched.”

“You ever… fuck… you ever do anythin’ with him?” Steve moaned out, bucking his hip slightly as Javi stroked his cock steadily. 

“First cock I ever sucked.” Javi chuckled, reaching out with his other hand to clumsily free his own trapped erection. “You ever done anything like this before?”

“No.” Steve’s voice was little more than a whisper as his eyes drifted down to Javi’s thick cock. “Fuck, can we… I mean… shit…”

“Not here.” Javi continued to pump both cocks, gently thumbing over Steve’s head to collect the precum that was beginning to flow. “But another time, somewhere more private. Sure. We can have some fun.”

“Fuck.” A small smile creeped across Steve’s lips as he let his head drop back, exposing his neck, while Javi began to pick up the pace.

The strokes had been slow at first as Javi tested how much Steve would let him do. So each stroke had been tender and leisurely, his fingers sliding down Steve’s shaft pulling quiet gasps and moans from the other man. But now Javi needed to come, he needed to watch Steve come. The spell might break any second, someone could come find them, anything could happen that could mean this might be the only chance Javi got. 

Javi’s pumps became more rhythmic, quicker, as he stroked himself and Steve in time. Another time, if he got another shot at this, he’d want to bring their erections together, to touch them, and let the friction of the other's shaft add to the heat. But for now Javi settled for this as his skin prickled with arousal. The coiling tension inside him building with each motion as his whole body throbbed with need.

Steve’s eyes were fixed on Javi’s hands, watching as his thick fingers skirted over hot flesh and pulsing veins coated in their own arousal. His plush lips were slightly parted, flushed as pink as his cheeks, and Javi longed to plunder Steve’s mouth. The only thing stopping him was the thought that actually might be too intimate just yet. A hand job was one thing, a kiss was another. An act more sensual than sexual. Javi didn’t want to rush Steve, he wanted to savor everything he could get.

They were both breathing heavier now, the burning fire inside them desperate to explode, so Javi increased the pace again. It was time for them to finish. And so Javi began to quicken his hand until the stroke turned into frenzied jerks that had Steve clasping a hand over his mouth and Javi biting down on his bottom lip. If anyone were to come in now, he wouldn’t be able to stop, wouldn’t be able to hide what they were doing together. So Javi pushed on, frantically pulling him and Steve to the edge.

Steve came first with a muffled cry. The thick white ropes flying from his cock, coating Javi’s hand and hitting his forearm. The hot release cooling on his skin as Steve trembled in his seat. Javi had only just let go of Steve’s dick and let himself fall back slightly to give the other man a good view before he too came. Letting his head drop back, Javi pinched his eyes shut and growled out a curse as he painted the floor of the room with his seed. 

For a moment, the world melted away as Javi allowed himself to dissolve into the pleasure of the moment. His thighs shook as his whole body vibrated with his orgasm, and all Javi could do was ride the brief high. Finally, as it ebbed away, Javi opened his eyes to find Steve slumped in the chair gazing at him.

“Fuck.” Javi panted out, looking around the space for something to clean himself up with. Grabbing some crumpled paper and roughly wiping his arm and hands, Javi turned back to Steve.

The other man seemed in a daze, watching Javi without really seeing, his soft cock still hanging from his open jeans. Tucking himself away, Javi watched as Steve seemed to slowly come back to reality once Javi’s dick was out of view. In a flash, Steve redressed and ran a shaking hand down his flushed, glistening face.

“I… um… shit.” Steve frowned up at Javi. 

Opening his mouth to answer, Javi jumped as voices began to drift in through the still ajar door. The two voices, both speaking Spanish, were still a way off, but the effect on Steve was immediate. Leaping up out of the chair, Steve rushed over to the door and peered out.

“Relax.” Javi tried to soothe him, taking in the scene in the area. Come spattered the floor, alongside gay porn, and the scent of sex hung in the air. “Come on, as soon as they pass we’ll leave. Get somewhere more… well… more private.”

Still staring out the door, Steve just nodded. Then after a few moments waved Javi over for the two of them to leave. Walking briskly across the campus, Javi could see Search Bloc officers jogging in the distance, others were walking and chatting while he and Steve made a beeline for the bunk room and straight to their sparse room. If only they knew of what the two gringos had just done in that outbuilding.

Once safely inside, Javi slumped down onto the thin mattress of his bed, while Steve shakily lit a cigarette before offering the pack to Javi. As they sat smoking in silence, Javi had a sinking feeling that this was never going to be mentioned again by Steve. Once the sun came up, it would be as though he never happened as far as Steve was concerned. He’d go back to trying to fix things with Connie, and Javi would have to return to his hookers. And the worst part was, Javi was almost sure he could live with that.

[idontplaytrack]

Could you write some silly sleep deprived Janis? Either X reader or Rejanis, no preferences 🥰

Sleep? Don’t know her

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: fluff, coarse language

Lack of sleep drives Janis to be a little crazy. But not more than it does Regina.

Regina laid in bed under the covers, looking— no, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, so quiet. But of course it was, it was 2:30 in the morning. Yet, the blonde could not settle down and turn in for the night. Not when her girlfriend was still wide awake and busy with god knows what.

“Janis, get in bed!” Regina groaned.

“I’m not tired.” Her voice travels into the room from where she was in the living area.

“What’re you even doing?”

“Nothing.” Janis laughs, but then there was a clatter.

Huffing, Regina got out of bed and flounced outside to check on the brunette. With a hand on her hip, her eyes went wide when she saw the art supplies sprawled out on the floor. “Oh my god, last I checked you were reading a book!”

“Got bored.”

“Bored?” Regina crouched down but slowly sat on the floor with her, “Maybe because it’s time for you to go to bed—”

Janis quirked a brow, “Go to bed? Nice try, when was the last time you saw me asleep?”

Regina bites back a sigh, exhaling harshly through her nose, “Do you think I wouldn’t remember, Jay? It’s been two days. Why are you just doing everything but getting some rest?”

Janis giggled, “Because I’m not tired~”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Of course I do, Regina.” Janis deadpanned, “When your best friend was the first person to call you a crazy lesbian, it sticks.”

Regina’s face fell. How is her mood changing so quickly? She pursed her lips together, internally panicking and unsure of what to say. “Jay, I’m sorry.”

The other girl was then chuckling. Regina shut her eyes for a second, “Janis. You need to get some sleep.”

“No, I don’t. I can’t fall asleep anyhow.” Janis replied, laying on her stomach on the floor as she carried on sketching, her tongue then darted out in concentration. Regina found that endearing, but she was so worried about how tired Janis actually was, she couldn’t think about how cute she was for longer than that split second. “Baby.” Regina finally sighs.

“I’m fine.” Janis said back in a mumble.

“You need to sleep, babe. It’s been too long since you did.” Regina scooted closer, tilting Janis’ chin by a finger. “Janis, please. Leave the work to tomorrow, let’s go get some sleep.”

“No!” Janis resisted, yelling and Regina saw her eyes get teary. Yet, the brunette doesn’t move away, she just stays in that position, letting Regina hold her chin in her hand.

“Janis, put the pencil down.” Regina told her softly. Janis breathed deeply, letting go of the pencil, letting it roll away on the floor. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“Why—”

“What I said, the crazy lesbian remark. That wasn’t necessary.” Janis chewed on her lower lip.

Regina shook her head, “We’re okay. I get it, you’re tired and stressed and feeling all sorts of things. I know you’re having trouble falling asleep, but I don’t know why. Could you…tell me what’s bothering you so I could help?”

“I don’t know.” Janis pouted, “My mind’s always just racing with all sorts of worries, the future, a bunch of what ifs. It’s so bad if I don’t have something to focus on, like art. If I just lay there in bed, in silence, I’m almost never able to fall asleep.”

“Okay.” Regina nodded, “Come on. I got you.” She helped Janis up, then they returned to their bedroom together. “Whatever’s on your mind, let it out. Tell me. Everything.” Regina sat her down, holding onto her hands, “I don’t care what it is, I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. Get it out, and we’ll go to sleep.”

That’s what happened, Regina successfully got Janis to open up and get those overwhelming thoughts in her mind. Janis went on and on for a few minutes, and all Regina did was listen and hold her. So she felt safe and seen. “It’s a lot, I’m sorry.”

“We all have our own shit, baby. One day at a time.” Regina rubbed her back soothingly, “You help me, I help you— we’re gonna get there one day, hm?”

Janis nodded, head nuzzled against chest as she feels her eyelids finally start to grow heavy. “Close your eyes.” Regina hums, planting a kiss to the crown of her head, I’m right here. Breathe, focus on nothing but the sound of my heartbeat.”

With another nod, Janis says, “Good night, love you.”

“Love you more.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

Been sitting in my inbox for awhile and I needed something to focus on than my parents’ yelling so I got this done. Thank you for waiting, I hope you enjoyed <3

[yayakoishii]

*cracks knuckles* ok so Sanji x reader where it’s basically the time in between Sanji leaving for wci where both the reader and Sanji are fucking shattered and they’re both miserable trying but failing to do what they need to do while also processing that the other isn’t around, like not a separation anxiety kinda way but like they genuinely make eachother a better person and they��re in love kinda way. and basically it’s the straw hats being a supportive family to the reader and Sanji’s family going “what the fuck is this guys deal” since they didn’t know abt reader. You can add a happy ending if you want but I’m talkin real angst.

beyond logic | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre/Tags: Angst, Open Ending?

A/n: thank you for the request!! I tried my best to write this but I don't think I'm good at writing heavy angst much ;-; I'm more of a fluff writer so I struggled and I don't feel 100% satisfied with this but it's the best I could do...

I added in a little bit of more detail to this, I hope you don't mind! I tried to keep in everything you mentioned but if I missed anything or misunderstood, I truly apologise! Hope you enjoy this and that it is to your liking ♡

also available on ao3!

Everything Pekoms was saying had to be a lie. (It wasn't, you knew that.)

Sanji could never be related to Germa 66. That made no sense to you. After all, Germa were heartless, cold-blooded killers. Your Sanji was the kindest man in the world who hid his sweet nature beneath an uncaring and harsh attitude. Your Sanji was the man who smiled so bright, it gave you hope and not despair, like Germa's name did.

Of course, Sanji wasn't actually yours. You had never actually had the courage– or rather, the need to make your feelings verbally known. You knew. Sanji knew. What you two had was no secret to you, even though you hadn't put on any labels. You could see the intensity in his eyes, could feel your own heart thudding in his proximity. Your heart was no longer yours and the man who had it was long gone.

You collapsed onto your knees, tears streaming down your face as your mind went haywire. Sanji was trapped in between Big Mom and Germa 66. How were you supposed to get him back?! That idiot had simply left a note saying ‘I will be back. I'm going to meet a woman.’ and expected it to work?!

Bitterness unlike ever before spread inside your heart. You were not weak by any means, but neither were you strong enough to take on Big Mom or Germa. In this moment, you hated yourself for being so weak that you couldn't protect and bring back the man you loved. From a practical point of view, one could even suggest that dropping Sanji and going off to Wano would be the most logically sound move for the Strawhat pirates.

Fortunately for you, the captain of the Strawhat pirates was not a practical or logical person.

"Why are you crying, (y/n)?" Luffy stood in front of your crouched form, head tilted just slightly. You tried to suck up the tears running down your cheeks but it only felt like more would come out. "We're getting him back."

Luffy's face didn't hold any doubt or fear. It never did. You on the other hand were full of both. Never in your wildest dreams did you think it possible to take on one of the four emperors of the sea and the kingdom that erased your island by providing their services in the war your country was in. You were realistic and you knew that it was impossible, yet… When you looked at Luffy's determined face, even something so impossible seemed attainable.

Luffy could do anything he set his mind to. You couldn't imagine defeating Big Mom, but you also couldn't imagine Luffy losing. And amidst all of that, you couldn't imagine getting Sanji back. He was gone. There was a highly likely chance you would never see him again.

Outwardly, you continued to just stare blankly at Luffy and he knew his words weren't getting to you. You were usually a calm and rational person, always there as the voice of reason for the ship. Right now though, everyone could tell that you were in a state of shock and despair. Nami swooped in and pulled you into a hug, like the ones you usually gave everyone else when they needed it. The touch stopped your thoughts and instead you focused on the feel of her skin on your own.

"You're not alone," she whispered. You clutched onto her, tears slipping from your eyes. "I know it's scary. I know it seems impossible. But I also know that it's worth it for you."

It was. All your reasoning had flown out of the window when you heard that Sanji was gone. The thing about being in love was that it made you stupid. It made you give up what is logical in favour of doing what is impractical but desired. You wanted to see Sanji again. You wanted to hold him in your arms and tell him how you felt out loud. Even though he knew without you saying it, you wanted to say it to him. You wanted him to hear those words and come back with you.

The thing about being in love was… you were ready to risk death for a chance to see him again.

You were really being stupid. But it seemed to make sense to your heart.

"(Y/n)," Chopper placed his paw on your knee. You looked down at him with downturned eyes. "You love him. He loves you. So come with us. We'll get him back together. There's no way he actually wants this more than what he had here."

"Sanji may act like a fool," Robin placed her own hand on your head and you found yourself suddenly surrounded by everyone. Even Zoro was standing closer than usual, offering you silent support. "But he cares. And I'm sure, if you ask him, he will come back."

You watched them all, looking at you with kind smiles. Neither you nor Sanji had ever spoken your love out loud. It was a decision that only made sense when you were on a pirate crew as small as the Strawhats. To avoid any awkwardness and to not have to keep a relationship secret, it was the logical course of action.

But… you couldn't hide your feelings even if you didn't speak about them. Your love had made itself known to everyone in your crew and they were still here. They were the only family you had in the world now and so…

You decided to trust them on this one.

"Okay," you nodded and stood up, wiping away your tears. Your crew patted on your shoulders and back and every bump instilled more confidence in you. Your goal was not to defeat Big Mom or Germa 66.

Your goal was to bring back Sanji.

"Let's do this."

•

Sanji already missed you.

To be fair, he had been missing you from the moment you separated on Dressrosa but now, sitting with his ‘family’ and having dinner… Right now, he missed you more than ever. Every bite of the food only reminded him of your smiling face, your kind words and the sound of your laughter.

They said that if you love something, you should let it go. Sanji didn't like that phrase much. He believed that if you loved something, you should hold onto it for as long as you could. As long as you let him, he would be there for you. And he would love you even if you did not love him anymore. It had been the only natural answer when he realised his feelings for you.

He didn't mean to let you go. He didn't want to leave the crew. But if he had to be practical like you always were… then he was a small sacrifice to ensure that his beloved crew remained safe. 13 years had passed between the last time he saw Germa but the smallest of fears still lived inside him. Sanji knew what they were capable of.

And there was also the possibility that you would not love him any longer. Sanji had thought that fate was a cruel thing, to make him fall in love with you of all people. You were from an island that was caught in a war. The war had been going on your entire childhood and it finally ended when the other side bought Germa's help.

The destruction left a handful of survivors, including you. It was truly a cruel twist for you to have fallen for him of all people, unknowing that Sanji carried the same detestable blood. He couldn't bring himself to tell you the truth about himself. Now, there was no way you didn't know. You must have heard from the others when you made it to Zou.

If you hated him, he wouldn't blame you. Sanji understood.

That didn't mean he liked it. He didn't want to lose you. He wanted to keep you by his side for the rest of his life. The only one he wanted to marry was you. Maybe this was how it was meant to end all along. Maybe because he hadn't told you about his family, now they had come back to haunt him.

"What are you thinking about?" Reiju's question made Sanji look up from his plate. From the corner of his eyes, he could see his brothers staring at him too. Sanji couldn't bring himself to actually care now that he was finally in front of them.

"What to say if I ever meet the person I really want to see again," Sanji replied calmly. There were no words he could apologise with. Nothing to begin making up for all the heartbreak he must have caused you and the rest of the crew. He had gone along with Germa and Big Mom's demands to ensure your safety.

So why did he want you to break in and take him away already?

"Oh?" Niji grinned at him from across the table, a smirk of amusement playing on his lips. "What, did you have a lover on that dirty pirate crew?"

Sanji didn't answer. You were not his, but even so… he didn't want someone like Niji to even utter your name. He didn't deserve to even know about you. You were Sanji's person. You were the one he had accidentally given away his heart to. You were the one who always forgave him. You were the one who made him want to be stronger, better, kinder. You made Sanji feel complete.

"I asked you something, Sanji," Niji narrowed his eyes. Sanji internally flinched, already knowing what's going to happen afterwards. But he couldn't speak. You were his secret. You were the one thing he could never, ever share with his family.

"No," he lied through his teeth and finished the meal. Sanji stood up and walked away, ignoring the dull ache in his heart. He had walked away from the crew by his own feet. He was the one who made this decision. He was doing it so you would be safe. But even though that was all true, so was the fact that…

He really, really missed you.

°•❀•°

all likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

★ Taglist:

@phantasmagoricalzenith | @secretlife028 | @100520s | @toertchen | @suga-tofu | @theluckyplaces | @luvfzw | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki | @yuninha2004

[lafleshlumpeater]

hey!! for the luke castellan x child of posideon!reader could you do an enmities to lovers type of trope where he teases and flirts with the reader a lot? possibly fem reader? tysm!!

Ofc!! Thanks for requesting- it’s a little short but i hope that’s okay <3

Warnings: luke calling r nicknames (love, doll), enemies to lovers (?), mentions of weapons, teasing, flirting, fem!reader- lmk if i missed any

(also, so sorry this is so late)

part two luke castellan masterlist

“You’re back isn’t straight, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you grudgingly straightened your back, desperately ignoring the irritatingly cocky smirk of the platinum- blond behind you. All you were trying to do was teach one of the younger kids from the Apollo cabin how to use a bow and arrow, after seeing him almost shoot himself in the eye whilst examining the contraption. Not spotting any of the campers you knew who were more experienced in the field of archery, and lack of anything else to do had driven you to do this. And you regretted it bitterly, when out of nowhere, appeared the one person who learnt all the right buttons to push just so he could push them to his fancy. Luke Castellan.

You didn’t know what it was- a short while after your brother had been claimed, you had arrived to camp and no sooner than that Poseidon had claimed you too. Ever since then, Luke had befriended Percy and the two got along like a house on fire while all he strived to do with you, on the other hand, was to tease and flirt and mock to the point where you were pulling your hair out and Luke remained coolly satisfied, that smug smile which would make anyone with eyes go weak in the knees residing in his sculpted features.

Not acknowledging him still, you gently took the elbow of the young (and clearly naive) Apollo camper, guiding it where he felt most comfortable and it was most convenient for the task at hand. As the younger camper drew the arrow back under your mentoring, his eyes focused solely on the target metres away, Luke tutted once again.

“Feet shoulder- width apart, Nick. Your tutor not doing a good job, huh?”

“Tutor not doing a good job, huh?”

“What was that?”

You bit your tongue after imitating the taller boy under your breath. Why did you let him get to you so much?

It was so infuriating how he was the one person who could break through your usually- cool demeanour, causing you to lose it within minutes.

The curious Nick lost concentration, arms going limp at his sides. He looked up at you, eyes quizzical and bright with amusement. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you hiss, praying Luke hadn’t heard. “If anything, he’s the opposite. Alright, back straight, shoulders-”

“I asked a question, doll,” Luke called out obnoxiously, which in return painted your cheeks an embarrassing red. “Did you just mimic me?”

“Yes I did,” you snap, fist tightening around an arrow. “Now will you shut up? I’m not your love, or your doll, or anything in between!”

Luke remained quiet throughout your rant- not absent of his signature, sly smirk, or at least, signature when it came to you. His eyes were light, flecks of grey gracing his irises as they glinted with familiarity- of mischief. You stopped, wondering why when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Percy grins at Luke, charming as ever before turning back to you. “Was it you who was yelling? I could have sworn-”

Both of you reply at the same time, you with a flustered “No,” and Luke a confident, arrogant: “Yes”. Percy raised a puzzled eyebrow, eyes narrowed and flicking between the two of you in suspicion.

“I’ll see you later,” Luke drawled, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable silence under your brother’s scrutinising gaze. “I gotta shower.” He fistbumped a still- bewildered Percy, turning his back to the three of you- not before throwing you a wink over his shoulder. Nick’s eyes widen in understanding.

Before his mouth can open, you nudge him, sending him an intimidating glare.

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[pedroshotwifey]

Hello

My drabble ask is infidelity 🫣 with Joel.. but readers current bf is really toxic and doesn't treat her well and she's planning on leaving him anyway and Joel says that he doesn't want to share and that he wants to be with her 🥺

Oh I can't tell you how excited I was for this 😈 I might have to make another infidelity fic bc holy shit 👀 (obviously I don't condone this behavior irl, but ooo is it hot in fic)

*****

“Oh shit,” Joel grunts. “Little wider for me, baby, you’re too fuckin’ tight. Poor lil pussy ain’t been gettin’ fucked right.” 

Your face heats at his words, but you obey, whimpering as you help him spread your legs further apart, your muscles aching in a delicious way paired with his cock dragging in and out of your slick cunt. Your back arches, your head getting thrown back onto your pillow as he hits something devastatingly deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, pussy fluttering around him. You feel like all your senses have been cut off, your sole focus on the way he’s stretching you out for him. 

“Tha’s right, baby, call my name. Sounds better than that fuckin’ boy you think’s so good for ya. You know he can’t make you feel like this. His dick’s probably as shriveled as his damn brain.”

You hate the way your pussy clenches upon hearing Joel talk shit about your boyfriend. It’s wrong—god, it’s so wrong—but it feels so fucking good. You know he can hear the way you fake coming around Liam’s cock most nights, knows the difference between the way you moan Joel’s name so gutterally and the way you have to say your boyfriend’s like it’s an obligation—a chore. 

It took him a few weeks to get you into his bed. A few weeks of him comforting you after fights and tantrums from your boyfriend. A few weeks of you trying to hold back your lustful gaze from your much older next door neighbor. A few weeks of you ignoring how he looked at you the same way. 

It took your boyfriend hitting you for you to finally listen to what Joel was telling you, what you knew was true. 

Joel was there waiting at his door when he saw Liam leave the apartment. It’s a good thing he didn’t see what happened before, because he probably would have killed him. You slept with him that night not only to distract him from your freshly blackened eye, but also because you came to that realization. 

Joel would do things for you that your boyfriend would never even consider. It wasn’t until he split you open on his cock for the first time, gave you four orgasms, then fed you, showered you, and held you tenderly until you fell asleep, that you understood that’s what you deserve. What Joel kept insisting you deserve. 

You deserve the way he’s making you drool right now, using your legs as leverage to pummel into you at an ungodly pace. You deserve the way you both fall apart at the same time, clinging to each other and moaning and licking into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to consume each other. You deserve the way Joel showers you in dirty praise as you pant and catch your breath after coming for a third time. 

And Joel deserves the way you’re going to go back to your apartment and pack your shit tonight.

****

More drabbles here

[luvsfootball]

failed date - aurelien tchouameni.

requested by - anon.

request - hi, can u write for aurelien tchouameni pls. no one has ever written anything for him. 🙁

“he what?”

you were back from another failed date, arriving back to your shared apartment with aurelien feeling rather gloomy.

but after two glasses of red wine, he was making the situation seem a lot funnier than it was.

“he tried to pay with a coupon that was one year out of date,” you snorted, pulling your knees up to your chest to carry on painting your toenails.

aurelien sighed as he took the nail varnish off you, grabbing your foot and opening the lid. “you could have called me. i would have picked you up.”

it was true that you didn’t want your date to drop you off home, but he insisted. he didn’t try anything in the car other than talking about how ‘sexy’ you looked. you were greatful you lived in apartment blocks otherwise he would know your actual address.

“it wasn’t the worst date i’ve been on. do you remember elio?”

aurelien laughed at the distant memory of the guy who had ditched you in the middle of nowhere because his girlfriend had called because she was in labour.

when the laughter died down and aurelien had finished painting your nails, he frowned when he noticed the look on your face.

“what is it, anjo?” aurelien grabbed your hand and rubbed circles on your skin, eyes wide as he tried to meet yours. “is there something about me?”

“no, no. you’re perfect. it’s them that have the problems, not you.”

he knew that if he was the one taking you on a date, you’d be treated like royalty.

the pair of you had been friends since children but you had moved to madrid for work as a nurse for the real madrid team.

when aurelien told you of his transfer, you were over the moon and he was the one that suggested the idea of moving in together.

you agreed. rent was a lot cheaper when there was two people paying and there would always be someone there to talk to.

but the thing with aurelien was that he didn’t want to be just a friend you came home to after a long day. he wanted to be more than that. someone you shared a bed with and shared a toothbrush holder with.

and you were the same.

the reason you were going on so many dates recently was because you were trying to fill the hole in your heart.

it only wanted aurelien, no body else.

“thanks. for always being there.”

aurelien softly smiled at you, holding his arms out for you. you settled down onto his chest, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep.

+

aurelien knew he had to tell you one way or another. but he was so nervous.

all day he had been stuttering over his words, so much that you thought he had developed a speech problem overnight.

you both ate dinner together, and even though you were rather chatty, aurelien wasn’t being his usual goofy self.

“aurelien? what’s wrong? you’ve been acting weird all day,” you murmured, placing your hand on top of his.

he pulled away almost automatically and ran it through his hair, blinking rapidly. “i-i don’t know.”

“come on, you can tell me anything,” you frowned when he refused to make eye contact with you and you could also see his chest rising and falling at a fast pace.

“do you remember when we were kids? i told everyone that one day i was going to marry you.”

the fond memory came to mind and you giggled at the image of a young aurelien down on one knee in front of everyone in the playground.

“how can i forget that?”

aurelien felt his stomach tighten and the sudden urge to be sick came over him. it was no or never and he needed to calm down.

with a deep breath, he stuttered over his words, “i want that to be a reality. not just some memory in a playground, i want it to be the best memory of your life. but the real thing, not the fake thing from when we were kids.”

you looked at him like he had two heads. “you want us to get married?”

“no, no,” he repeated firmly, “not yet, anyway.” he didn’t break eye contact, breath shortening as he finally let out the thing that had been weighing him down for months.

“it’s you. it’s always been you. i am so very in love with you and i don’t think i can stop.”

you stared at him in disbelief. the thing you had been wanting to say for a while had come out of his mouth, which you never expected in a million years.

he grabbed your hips with his hands, sighing as he muttered, “i just want you. every single bit of you.”

“you’ve got me, aurelien. i love you too.”

aurelien smiled at you and suddenly everything felt so much better.

you were his now and he was your’s.

[surielstea]

Debts and Gifts

Fic requested by @weirdo-fun

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (marriage of convenience au)

Summary: Azriel and Reader are out shopping for solstice when Reader stumbles upon someone from her past and Azriel’s sees to it that she forgets about him.

Warnings: PDA | Reader is a former courtesan | very, very slight nsfw, public (ish) | Azriel being feral for reader at all times.

3k words.

It was the last market day before Winter Solstice, which meant pop-up shops and vendor carts lined the main streets of Velaris, selling anything from hand-made jewelry to warm meals.

The streets were teeming with last-minute shoppers dressed in their warmest coats, everyone seeking warmth so much so that one of the cocoa vendors had a line around the corner.

I stood at one of the less crowded establishments, staring at the crystals beneath the protective glass, twisting my wedding ring around my fourth finger, a habit I picked up the moment it was placed on my finger.

"Come, this way," A familiar voice says and I turn from the crystals to face him, the dark-haired male holding out his scarred hand as an invitation. I pull my scarf up higher, hiding my flushed cheeks as I intertwine our cold hands. It was just so the crowd didn't split us up.

"I still have to get Rhys a solstice present," Azriel murmured, using the advantage of his height to look over the bustling crowd.

"The High Lord is the last on your list?" I giggle teasingly.

"Who says I got anything for you?" He lifted a dark brow at me and I frowned, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I think Mor and Cassian would beat you up if you didn't get anything for your wife," I state and he tenses slightly as if he's never heard me call him my husband before. I have, of course, many times to win arguments or just to tease him, so what was the difference now?

— flashback —

As a girl born in the Hewn City, I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to my line of work. It was a Courtesan or a housewife. And I wasn't exactly wealthy enough to afford the pretty dresses or delicate perfumes that would draw in the suitors in the first place. So courtesan it was.

Madame Welder was an older lady but I swore there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She was also the only person I've ever been afraid of, and I was her favorite disciple, lucky me.

It was my bidding day today, a day in every courtesan's life that would determine her fate of success. A day when men across courts would offer an obscene amount of money to take her virginity.

I dreaded this day. "At least you look pretty?" Mor smiled from beside my head, her hands planted on my shoulders as I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress I wore was more conservative than I had been expecting, don't get me wrong it wasn't modest by any means, but I've seen other girls dressed in sheer white chiffon for their own bidding days.

The gown was made of delicate white silk, and my décolletage was enunciated by curtaining fabric, covering just enough to prompt curiosity. The length was short, but not alarming enough for me to be embarrassed.

I did look pretty. I didn't exactly feel it.

"Yeah," I murmured. "At least I look pretty," I sigh, spinning on my heel, deciding the sight of myself was too foreign to handle. I walk towards my vanity and reapply my slightly faded lipstick.

A knock at the door made me flinch, I wasn't ready for this.

"Dearest, it's time," My Madame’s voice says through the door and my spine stiffens. I looked to Morrigan with creased brows.

"Everything will be fine," She smiles at me so casually the facade makes me believe her for a moment. "I'm taking care of everything alright?" She hums, coming closer to cup my cheeks. "Alright?" She repeats and I nod, my shoulders slightly relaxing and she smiles a bit brighter.

"Good."

The Shadow Singer had bet on me that night, in fact, he bet the largest sum that my Madame had ever made off a girl. She was more than happy to usher me off towards him.

"Az? What are you doing?" I whisper shout at him the moment we're in solitude. "Did Morrigan not tell you the plan?" His brows furrow, creasing in the center.

"The plan— what are you talking about?" I shake my head confused.

"We're getting you out of here," He says simply and I blink, then blink again, making sure I wasn't imagining this.

"I can't just leave, I'm indebted to my Madame," I explain and he rolls his eyes as if I should've already figured all this out.

"I just paid her more than she's made in her career, you don't owe her anything."

"But—" I begin.

"No buts, Morrigan and I devised a whole plan to get you out of this wretched city, you're not ruining it because of your good morality," He tuts, cutting me off and a frown pulls at my lips.

"No, Az it's not that," I sigh with a shake of my head. He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation.

"Every girl under Madame Welder's wing is, more or less forced into entering a bargain with her," I pause, only to swallow thickly before continuing. "A girl cannot leave her organization until she has met the qualifications," I finish but his confusion still lingers.

"The qualifications being?" His head tilts and I rock slightly on my stiletto heels, my feet aching.

"There's only three, the first is that the girl has made Madame Welder a certain amount of money," I murmured and Azriel snorted. "I think I crossed that one off, the others?" He leaned back against the hallway wall, so very casual as he gracefully swept his hair away from his eyes.

"The second is that it must be after your bidding day, which we now needn’t worry about,” I murmur, upright about the third and final requirement. He noticed my stress but said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“The third is marriage.” I finally manage to spit out and he blinks, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank the cauldron I thought it’d be far worse,” Azriel hummed and I looked at him like he was crazy. “We'll find you someone to marry,” He waved me off.

My brows creased. Someone would have to give up their chance at love so I could have a chance at freedom? It didn’t feel right. I’ve never been free, marriage meant surrendering my family name, which meant that I was one-half of someone else that I barely knew.

“Who would possibly give up their freedom if only to grant mine?” I narrowed my gaze and he shrugged. “We’ll get married,” He suggested and a pink flush warmed my cheeks. “We can figure this out, I’m not leaving you here,” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand in his. I squeezed it in reply, my blush still blazingly hot across my face.

He suddenly pulled me down a hall and I yelped as he took me towards the exit of the slightly crumbling tower. “Where are we going?” I asked with pursed lips.

“I bought you for the night didn’t I?” He cast a glance back towards me with a sly wink. If I wasn’t red, I most certainly was now. My spine stiffened but I continued to race after him. “Relax,” His thumb brushed over the back of my palm reassuringly. “We’re going to find you a ring.”

———

I was grateful for him that day, even more grateful that it was him Morrigan selected to bid for me. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud, but gods was I glad it was he was the one, out of all the others, who ended up putting a ring on my finger.

"Stay close," Azriel snapped me out of my thoughts but before I could register what he said, he pulled me into the crowd. I squeezed onto his hand tighter as I weaseled my way through people to keep up with him. He let go of my hand in favor of slipping it around my waist, holding me close to him as we traveled through the sea of people.

Lucky for us, most people of Velaris feared Illyrians so everyone made an effort to avoid us at the sight of Azriel's wings.

"What are you thinking of getting Rhys?" I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

"I have no idea. What do you get a lord who already has everything?" He sighs.

"A lint roller?" I suggest and he turns to look at me, slightly confused but I brush him off. "How about a new pair of shoes?" I try but his skeptical expression remains.

"He's not Morrigan," Azriel grumbles and I roll my eyes, continuing to shuffle alongside him. "What'd you get him?"

I shrug. "A new fancy jacket, say what you want. The male likes his clothes," I state and he only nods, his mind reeling.

We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes before he suddenly tightens his hold on me and pulls me in another direction.

"You really have to stop yanking me everywhere, I'm going to get whiplash one of these days," I huff as we enter a small, cozy bookstore. I look at him incredulously and he brushes me off.

“Since when does the High Lord read?” I scoff, walking down an aisle of colorful, and very enticing spines.

“We’re not here for Rhys,” He shook his head and I looked at him bewildered, my brows bunched. “Go on, pick out a book,” He waved me off and I blinked, still slightly confused. He sighed, giving me a soft smile.

“I got you a gift already, but I figured I wouldn’t exactly be fulfilling my role as the best husband ever if I didn’t spoil you,” He flashed me a pearly smile, showcasing a pair of dimples that I loved so dearly.

“How many can I get?” I ask him cheekily, as a joke surely, only expecting him to get me one but instead, he reaches to his side and picks up a wicker basket from its stack. “You can fill this up,” He handed me the basket and my eyes nearly popped from the sockets.

“Gods I could kiss you,” I muse, crashing into him in a hug. He didn’t stumble, but it took him a moment before he hugged me back. Registering what I said, I quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” I murmur, clutching the handle of the basket tighter.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That was the reaction I was looking for,” He smirked and I blinked, my breath caught in my throat.

He jerked his head towards the books behind me and I closed my mouth, realizing I must’ve been staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you,” I say, normally this time, and spin on my heel to examine the titles and covers of the many volumes.

I was in the midst of skimming through some adventure tale when a glimpse of someone caught my eye. I looked up, spotting a blonde male in the aisle beside mine. My breath hitched and I quickly slammed the book shut, putting it back on the shelf and walking as fast as I could without running towards the other direction. I foolishly bumped into a hard chest before I could turn the corner.

Fortunately, it was only Azriel. His shadows swirled around my ankles worriedly. “Everything alright?” His hands come to my shoulders and I swallow thickly. “Yeah,” I nod, glancing back to the male in the other direction who I wish I didn’t recognize. I looked back to my husband but his gaze had already followed mine, picking up on what I was running away from.

“You know him?” His expression hardened.

“No!” I blurted out, terribly loud and I clapped my hand over my mouth nervously. He gave me a pointed look and my shoulders slumped. “Fine, yes. He was a patron at Madame Welder's organization,” I say with a hushed tone. “He always kept an eye on me. If you weren’t the one that won on my bidding day, it would’ve been him,” I explain in a murmur and his face contorts, not into anger but rather… amusement?

“What’s so funny?” I scowl.

“We’re married.” He grabbed my left hand, holding it up to showcase the ridiculously large diamond on my fourth finger. “Remember?” He tilts his head but my frown remains. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ring on his finger. This means two things, one: you’re taken. And two: you’re doing a lot better than he is,” He said unambiguously. I swallowed down my nerves.

“Yes, but this,” I gestured between the two of us. “It isn’t real,” I argue, keeping my voice low.

“It can be,” He smirks, and my flush returns. “To him, at least,” He goes on.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss you in front of him?” I cross my arms.

“I mean unless you want to keep hiding behind me then go right ahead, but when he looks over at you and recognizes not the ring on your finger, but your shyness he’s going to think you’re the same girl you were ten years ago.” He explains.

“I’m not.”

“I know that, but don’t you want him to know too?” He raises a brow.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me, so desperate for some touch in your life,” I narrow my gaze on him.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Have it your way, I’ll be over here.” He began to stroll towards the male I was so terrified of being seen by.

I cast a glance at the blonde and noticed he was walking closer. “Wait he’s coming over here,” I grabbed Azriel by his shirt and he stumbled towards me finding purchase on the shelf beside my head, caging me against it.

“Oh, now you want my help?” He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” I pulled at his shirt again and he wasted no time in following my command.

His lips were tender against mine and warmed me so thoroughly that I thought about stripping from my winter jacket. We’ve kissed before, for our wedding, and a few times after that in front of crowds to prove our love, but it didn’t feel like any of the previous kisses this time.

Because this time it was just us, the rest of the world melting away as my arms sling around his neck, one of my hands tangling into his black hair while my other one traces lines on the top of his taut wings.

He pushed me back onto the shelf, cradling my hips as he pressed against me, needing our kiss to be deeper.

It could’ve been a peck, could’ve been an innocent, chaste moment. But when his tongue swiped at my lower lip I understood that both of us wanted so much more than that.

I opened my mouth, granting his tongue access and gods did it feel good to be explored so fervently by him. He was hungry, like he’d been aching to taste me for years and he wasn’t prepared to give me up anytime soon.

He shifted, kicking my legs wider, and pressed his knee against the apex of my thighs. Every nerve in my body thrummed in reaction, my back arching off the shelf, my chest pushing against his. I needlessly gripped his hair, using all my energy to resist grinding against his leg.

“Az,” I murmur onto his lips, trying to convince myself to pull away but my willpower wasn’t strong enough, because to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was end this.

“Hm?” He murmurs in reply.

“We’re in public,” I reminded and he nodded, very aware of our surroundings, aware of everything in fact. His shadows were slithering up my torso sporadically. He removed his knee from my core and a soft sigh escaped my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” He whispered, then kissed me gently once more, just a soft peck this time. I was slightly shaky as he pulled away entirely. I nodded, licking my lips and savoring the lingering taste of him.

I turned back to the bookshelf, completely forgetting about the blonde male across the way until an unfamiliar voice spoke from beside me. “Pardon me, can I get by you?” I turned to the sound, finding the blonde male. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t him. I had no idea who this man was. I was so stupid to think someone so wretched from the Hewn City would be here, in the most protected city in the world. I catch myself, quickly peeling my leaden feet from the floor, scooting closer to the shelf so he could pass.

Azriel looks at me, slightly alarmed. “It wasn’t him,” I murmur, and this time my husband’s amusement actually forms into a laugh.

“You just wanted me to kiss you,” He teases and she crinkles her nose in spite.

“It was your idea,” I huffed, stomping away to a separate aisle, far away from him. But he caught me quickly, his arms slinging over my shoulders as he hugged me from behind while I examined a display table of Sellyn Drake's new novel.

After what felt like only another moment my basket was filled and Azriel had paid for each book, making me promise that I’d be surprised when I opened them on Solstice morning.

We stepped back out into the cold, my hand in Azriel’s while his other held my heavy bag of books. I smiled greedily, looking up at him. A gust of wind blew past us and it wiped away my smile, a shiver running down my back as my eyes stung from the cold.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He pulled at my hand and I looked up at him curiously.

“What about Rhys’ present?” I say and he shrugs.

“You’re cold, I’ll find something for Rhys another time,” He proposed and I nodded, squeezing his hand a little tighter and inching closer. I blamed my body for seeking warmth but we both knew that the kiss we shared meant more than we played off.

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