#Reader Exploitation

[yeyinde]

John deciding to blow off steam by subscribing to a cute camgirl's onlyfans account and quickly becoming the top contributor. a harmless way to relax, and spoil a pretty girl with gifts and money, the sort of thing he doesn't have time for in his personal life but craves. hungers for. pays for lingerie and toys, private shows and videos. eagerly devours any time she has to spare on him, but the more he gets to know her, the more obsessed he becomes. the more possessive. wanting. monopolizing all of her time so that she never has a minute to spare on others.

and then she sends him a birthday video. congrats on your fortieth, she whispers into the camera, wearing the ensemble he bought for her. a mould of his cock in her hands, a whim he decided to go for after she pouted at him for a few minutes about how she wanted to feel him inside of her. or a (not so) cheap imitation, anyway. it's good. so good. she's perfect. and all his for tonight.

but she makes a mistake. his kitten is so good at hiding her face, her features. keeping herself a mystery. but as she gives him the sexiest performance he's ever seen, she slips up. shows more of herself than she wants to.

wish i could say happy birthday in person, she winks at him through the cheap plastic of her mask. a fox. isn't she coy? but it's an invitation he won't turn down.

after all, it'd be rude not to give the cute little secretary that greets him every morning exactly what she asked for, wouldn't it?

[salarymanwaka]

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ The Moon to my Stars.

Short Summary: After your shared night on the Astronomy Tower, he seems to avoid you. When you do meet him again—things between you two change, and it turns out loving Tom Riddle is harder than expected.

Warnings: 18+. angst, fluff, smut. fingering, unprotected p in v, soft!Tom; so soft it probably counts as ooc, slight choking, creampie, panty-stealing, author is deeply in love with this man and is utterly delusional.

A/N: I have officially lost my sanity trying to hide my utter devotion to this man. Thank you for sticking around.

wordcount: 2,6k

part 1: ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

Days pass. Some long and exhausting, some filled with studying and revising. Your mind is occupied, clouded by the stressful nature of exam season—yet, Tom never leaves your mind. It even goes as far that you need physical distance from your textbooks—because that one night on the Astronomy Tower overshadows your every rational thought.

At this point you go outside, fur-lined winter boots leaving shallow footprints in the last remnants of the thick snow layer that once covered Hogwarts’ grounds. You tell yourself going for a walk will take your mind off your worries—whether it be the exams or him. In truth, it does the exact opposite.

Oddly enough, the scenery, seemingly frozen in time, reminds you more of him than it should. The unforgiving cold, hibernating nature, deer and other wildlife scavenging for anything edible under the freezing blanket of snow. Sun barely strong enough to make it through the clouds, occasional cool breezes sending shivers down your spine.

And yet, there is something beautiful about it.

Something you crave, something that makes your skin tingle, lets you stay just a little bit longer.

Something that makes you long to feel his touch again.

You haven’t spoken to him since he led you back to your dorm, coat still snugly wrapped around your shoulders. Back when he told you to have a good night. To dream well. To dream of him.

You hadn’t fallen asleep with a smile in a very long time before that night.

But now, doubts cloud your mind. You haven’t seen him in classes since—and he isn’t one to miss lessons. Was he deliberately avoiding you? He might have realised he made a mistake. Your spent night was a mistake. You were a mistake.

It shouldn’t mean this much to you—after all, you’ve hated him ever since you started Hogwarts. But what he told you felt special—felt real.

And when you arrive back in your dorm from your walk, passing by his coat that he hasn’t yet demanded back, you can’t stop yourself. Shutting your eyes when your hand brings the thick, woven fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent, his cologne. Sandalwood and amber—so unmistakably him, reminding you of what he told you when he wrapped it around your shoulders.

I want you to teach me. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.

“And I want to try. But you need to let me.” You murmur to yourself, slowly letting go of the fabric and returning to your studies.

You don’t get anything more done that day.

And fuck, it frustrates you. So much, you once again lay in bed, sleepless.

You toss and turn, and as nothing seems to help, you get out of bed with a sigh.

Fetching your own coat, you leave your dorm, looking both ways down the hallway to make sure you’re alone, and then, with quick, yet quiet steps, you make your way towards the Astronomy Tower. You haven’t been back since that day.

It’s another freezing night, chilly breezes of wind brushing against your cheeks as you lean against the railing—the clear sky revealing what you came here for in the first place—the stars and the moon.

Minutes later, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even notice the faint footsteps of someone approaching—not until that certain someone is standing right next to you, that is.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He remarks, voice controlled as he keeps a safe distance. “It’s cold out.”

You huff slightly at his words, recognizing the scent of his perfume even from a few metres away.

“Is that the only thing you care about, Riddle?” You reply coolly, not turning to face him. “What about me breaking curfew rules? You do usually take your job as prefect very seriously.”

Tom doesn’t answer, and for a few minutes, there’s silence between the both of you.

“You have been avoiding me.” You finally state, your breath visible in the cold night air.

He breathes out, a deep, long exhale as though he’s been preparing himself for this moment.

“I thought it’d be better this way. For both of us.”

You turn to him then, eyes scanning his face—the moonlight’s glow highlighting his sharp features, conflict visible in his eyes.

“Better?” You repeat in disbelief, taking a step backwards. “Right.”

His head sinks, eyes closed as he debates what to say next.

“I told you,” he rasps, fingers curling tighter around his wand, “I can’t. I don’t know how to—”

“You can’t what?” You cut him off. “Let someone in for once? Let someone behind that wall you build around yourself?”

“It’s not that easy,” he sneers, too turning towards you. “I wasn’t brought up like you. I don’t know how to show affection, how to manage— whatever this is.”

“Slowly, Tom. With patience. I am willing to help, you just need to let me.”

After a few seconds, he nods, slowly.

You don’t talk much after this, both of you sitting down, staring into the distance.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He questions after a while, fidgeting with his wand.

A subtle smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “I should be,” you reply. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

He huffs. “I should be.”

After that night, things change. Tom tries to be there, subtly at first. Leading you to classes, tutoring you. Though you don’t speak often, he is there. Random shared nights on the Astronomy Tower after you have memorized his prefect schedule—Mondays and Thursdays.

You’d sit next to each other, watching the sky. Each time a little closer. Occasionally talk. Each time a little more. You could feel him getting more comfortable, opening up, telling you more about himself— his childhood.

It changes the way you view him entirely.

That behind his hard shell, his cold exterior, there’s this little boy in the orphanage—who was never understood, never cared for, never loved.

“You didn’t deserve this, Tom.” You say. You don’t know what else there is you could possibly tell him to make it alright—because there is nothing.

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore now.” He replies.

It’s silent for a long time between you two after that.

“I am here for you, always.” You murmur after a few minutes, eyes flicking between your and his hand.

You contemplate for a moment.

Yet, almost involuntarily, your hand carefully inches closer until it finds his. The moment you touch him, you feel him tense, and you wait, giving him the time to draw back—but he doesn’t. Your hand—quite cold in contrast to his—tightens its grip then, and you again sit there in silence for a while.

“You are freezing,” he remarks quietly, thumb softly swiping over your index finger, “we should go back inside.”

So you do. He leads you back to your dorm, wishing you a good night—just like the first time. You want to ask whether he would like to have his coat back—but when you turn around, he is already gone.

You aren’t too sad about it—after all, it still smells like him.

—

Your nightly meetings have become a routine. He never lets you wait more than five minutes before he sits down beside you, joining you as you watch the stars. You talk about everyone and everything. And shit—the more he talks—his perfect voice—the more you crave his lips on yours again.

One night, when saying your goodbyes, you both stare at each other for a little too long. You get lost in the depths of his beautiful, dark brown eyes, and you don’t even really notice him getting closer until his hand brushes against yours.

“Shouldn’t— shouldn’t you be on patrol?” You murmur, eyes dropping to his lips for a split second, his face now mere inches away from yours—and he’s so tense you can quite literally feel the doubt radiating off of him.

He huffs softly, his voice coming out as a faint whisper.

“I should be.”

And then, he closes the gap, lips brushing against yours, first gently as to give you space and time to move away, but as you don’t, instead lean into his touch—with a firm, yet gentle hold on your neck, he pulls you closer. He takes his time with you, as though he wants to savour your taste, memorize how your lips feel against his, your soft breathing, your warmth—

Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, dragging you after him. Not to your dorm, but to his. Just after the door closes, his lips are on yours again—not so gently this time, instead filled with hunger, lust.

“Tom,” you breathe, eyes meeting his as you part. “Are you sure?”

“I am if you are,” he replies, and it only takes a nod for his hand to tangle in your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, leading you to his bed.

As the back of your knees meets the edge of his bed, he gently guides you down with him until your body is caged between the mattress and himself. His eyes scan your face for any discomfort, any sign you want to stop.

But you don’t want him to stop.

Instead, your fingers clutch at his robes, pulling him down for another kiss.

He takes his time with you. Not quick, not rushed, not rough like last time—stripping each piece of clothing off your body with care, exploring, watching your every reaction.

And God, how you have missed his touch.

After he’s removed the last piece of fabric on your body—your lace panties—he looks up at you. The storm in his deep, brown eyes drawing you right in as he is nestled between your thighs. Then you see it—for the first time—a completely unfamiliar expression plastered on his face. Features softened to an extent you aren’t sure it even is the Tom Riddle everyone else feared you are dealing with. Eyes not having their usual harshness to them, lips curled into an almost-smile. And if you weren’t really, really delusional and completely mesmerized merely by the sight of him so eager for you, you would think—he looks as though he felt for you just as deeply as you did for him.

He lowers his head to press a single, gentle kiss to your inner thigh, one arm keeping you spread open for him. In the same moment, you feel two of his fingers gently swiping through your folds before they press against you, entering your already slick walls without much effort. A gasp from you is accompanied by a shaky breath against your thigh from his side as he hilts himself knuckle-deep, curling his fingers perfectly to brush against your most sensitive spot inside of you.

“Please— God, please, Tom.” You whimper, bucking your hips against his hand—anything to get him to move.

“Shh. You told me to take it slow. Want to take it slow with you this time.”

So, gently, he withdraws again, thumb drawing lazy circles on your clit as he sets a steady rhythm, fingers pumping into you slowly, his other hand making sure you stay spread open for him.

And although it’s slow, almost too slow, you feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tightening, whimpering as he trails kisses down your inner thigh.

“You think you are ready for me?” He asks, eyes meeting yours.

“Yes, Tom. Please, I need you.”

He’s undressing so quickly it’s hard to follow, first the thud of his belt hitting the floor, then piece after piece of his clothes discarded somewhere near the bed. Apparently you aren’t the only one who’s been craving this.

He’s kissing you again when he’s done, leaning over you, your legs wrapped around his waist—feeling his tip swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal before he nudges against your entrance.

“Please, Tom.”

His restraint shatters.

He pushes inside of you, slowly, splitting you apart on his length. You gasp at the stretch, quickly muffling the sound with your lips on his once more.

You don’t want it to stop—you don’t want him to stop.

“God, you are tight,” he breathes shakily, wiping a strand of hair from your face. “Feel so good wrapped around me like that.”

He pauses briefly when he’s buried to the hilt, letting you adjust for a moment before he pulls out halfway, thrusting back inside.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “This okay?”

More than okay.

“Tom— please—”

Concern is visible on his face. “I didn’t hurt you last time, did I? I thought I might have.”

It’s sweet. So sweet he cares. But God, not now. Not now when he’s so deep, ridding you of any sanity you have left. You just need him to move.

“Tom. Please.”

He nods, exhaling another shaky breath, finally, finally setting a steady rhythm. Your nails dig into his back, urging him closer, deeper, anything.

More, more, more. You need more of him.

You haven’t realised how starved of his touch you were until now.

He knows, he can sense it. Hips snapping against yours faster, reaching deeper, pushing into you just at the right angle—you want to ask him how he knows all of this. How he can be so perfect at everything he does, how he can be so infuriatingly handsome—

“I am going to— fuck, Tom—“

Lips on yours. Hand around your throat, pressing down just tight enough to make you feel light-headed. Other hand kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingertips.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

You shatter. Break. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm rips through you, walls fluttering wildly around his thick cock, milking him. Your thighs tremble, keeping him close, keeping him right where you need him—buried deep inside of you.

He fucks you through it, helping you through your aftershocks, and with a final, deep thrust, he spills inside of you, his release painting your walls white.

Both of you stay like this for a while. Silence as your fingers swipe through his dark curls, over his back, keeping him close. So close. You don’t want to let go when he finally gets up.

Tom comes back with a wet towel, cleaning between your thighs before he hands you your clothes.

And you would put them on—if there wasn’t something missing.

“Where are my panties?”

His lips contort into a smug grin.

“Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Yes, full name. “That’s the second pair.”

He doesn’t do more than smile, getting into bed beside you, arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

Well, in that case. One more pair lost wouldn’t mean the end of the world.

It’s just a few minutes later when you feel your eyelids getting heavy, ready to drift off to sleep, lying on his chest.

You feel him place a soft kiss on top of your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, and suddenly you think you may already be dreaming.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[cruel-hiraeth]

i keep returning to the thought of being jing yuan’s deeply human—and thus flawed—beloved. while fickle in nature, you are wholeheartedly devoted to the luofu’s general, and have no qualms about your attachment in spite of the disparity in your lifespans.

the primary cause for strife within the relationship (in your mind, anyway) is you—specifically, your jealousy of those who warmed jing yuan’s bed during the long centuries before you even existed. any time you think about this, you jaw sets, and your eyes grow stormy.

but your anguish doesn’t upset the man in question; in all honesty, he indulges your hot-headed, possessive behavior. you’re spoiled beyond reproach—this much you can’t deny—and yet you are incapable of quelling the urge to turn up your nose and become moody when certain topics arise.

down to the second, jing yuan can predict when you will demand to sit on his lap and claw at his chest like a petulant kitten. perhaps—if you weren’t single-mindedly driven by blazing ardor and pride—you would cringe at how easily you fall into his trap. but it’s camouflaged with honeyed words and silken pleasure, and you can’t help but yield to his antics, weeping mine mine mine into his mouth, carving crimson ribbons down his back.

despite his military training, jing yuan isn’t cruel; he could never be callous to you, his heart. but he loves the mortal flame that burns so passionately inside you. thanks to you—and for the first time in centuries—he remembers what it feels like to be alive.

[one-sunny]

Cabin by the Lake | Fireworks

Portgas D Ace x F!Reader, Modern AU series

08- When Luffy’s birthday turns into a group get away to a small cabin by a lake, you cannot deny his own brothers an invitation. Surely the week long get away would leave a lasting impression with his eldest sibling.

Friday: Fireworks

Today was the day.

It was the day you had all gathered for.

And the kitchen was in full swing. Sanji had woken up a bit early to start the preparation for the absolute feast meant for your very own Monkey D Luffy’s birthday. It seems that most of the others are off with their own plans as well- Franky, Ussop, and Zoro heading off for their very own “secret mission” while Nami and Robin do a last minute general store run.

You had spent the morning in attempt to clean up after the rowdy group so the following day of packing up would not be as large of a task. Once finished, a bit sweaty, you move to check in with Sanji. There, you are met with flurry of movement and absolute focus.

“Sanji, this is,” You cast a look around the kitchen in awe and slight concern. It seemed that every counter space was covered with some form of meal prep. The fridge was absolutely stocked with the same- bowls and freezer bags of chopped vegetables, marinating meat, and copious sweet. “Insane. Are you sure you have this handled?”

“Please, darling, i’m a professional.” He waves you off with a sly grin, fingers coated in a flaky breading.

“Well, yeah, but you usually have help. Like a lot of-“

“The only help I need is for you to keep those black holes out of the kitchen. All three of them. Nightmare brothers, they are.” Sanji shakes his head dejectedly.

“Sanji!”

The loud voice squeals from outside. Despite how distant it was, Luffy is standing in the kitchen in mere moments, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “Luffy! You’re getting water everywhere!” The chef barks, but Luffy simply ignores him to peer at the many bowls scattered about.

“Oh! What’s this?” Luffy reaches forth, water running down his forearm and threatening to contaminate the food with lake water. Sanji smacks his hand in effort to stop him. “But I’m hungry.” Luffy withdraws with a pout.

As Ace and Sabo waltz into the kitchen, towels bunched up in their hands but still dripping water, Sanji gives you a pointed look. “This is dinner.”

“But I’m hungry now!” Luffy whines out. “What about lunch!”

Ace’s laugh is a melody to your ears, his grin bright and catching your attention. The water dripping from the ends of his hair and down his collarbone then steals your focus. “He’s not your personal chef, Lu.”

Yet the brothers all take interest in the various bowls. Sanji grumbles under his breath as he attempts to keep an eye out in three different directions for the sake of his prep work. Ace manages to swipe a julienned carrot as Sanji wards off Luffy and Sabo from a batch of frosting, his brows quirking up at you as he comes to lean on the counter at your side.

You hold back a laugh as Sanji picks up the target bowl, waltzing across the kitchen, “I’m gonna start kicking people.” He mutters as he brushes past you. Ace holds up his hands innocently, but chews the carrot stick with a smirk falling on his face.

“Hey, why don’t we go to the diner for lunch?” You prompt in attempt to put Sanji out of his misery.

Luffy instantly lights up, shoving a pie filling covered finger into his mouth. “Great idea, you’re so smart, let’s go eat.” He nods, before glaring at Sanji. “Since he’s a big meanie.”

“Smart, Luffy’s a big baby when he’s hungry.” Sabo smirks, ruffling his brothers hair.

“Hey! It’s my birthday, you can’t be mean to me.” Luffy protests.

“Awh, come of Luffy, let’s go change. I doubt the diner will be as gracious as Sanji is with you dripping lake water all over his food.” Ace offers a kind smile to the man, before waltzing over to collect his youngest brother in a head lock. Luffy squeaks in protest at this as Sabo laughs joyfully, the three trailing off towards the bedroom with Luffy still squeezed into Ace’s bicep.

Sanji hums in acknowledgment, shoulders easing. “Thank you.” He returns back to his place at his cutting board. “I can see why you like him so much.”

Your eyes widen in shock at the comment. “What are you talking about?”

“Ace.” Sanji replies easily. “Seems like he was at least taught manners.”

“I, uh, I don’t-“

“Come on,” Sanji narrows his eyes. “I told you before- It sucks to lose one of my girls, but I guess it’s okay if it’s a guy like him.”

“Sanji-“

“Go get ready. I want those guys out of here so I can actually focus.” He smiles at you in effort to stunt any or your protests.

“Fine.” You huff off upstairs.

After taking a moment to freshen up and collect your thoughts, you meet the brothers out front by Ace’s car. He offers you a bright smile in greeting before moving past his brothers and opening the passenger door. Your brows shoot up but Ace simply tips his head in a silent answer.

Heat floods your body, “How chivalrous.”

Ace opens his mouth to speak, but his brothers are soon at his side. “Ace, are you gonna open the door for me?” Sabo teases.

“No, open mine! It’s my birthday!” Luffy interjects with a bright laugh.

“Get in the car.” Ace snaps at the two, offering you an apologetic smile, then shutting the door. He quickly rounds the car as Sabo and Luffy climb into the back. Ace settles into his seat and a loud conversation instantly sparks in the back seat.

“Let me play music.” Sabo leans between the front seats with his phone in hand.

“No,” Ace laughs, waving the guy off. Instead, his phone is plopped into your lap as a silent request and you feel your heart flutter as Sabo turns his eyes, brow lifted.

The blonde hums in thought.

You clear your throat as the car is thrown into reverse, Sabo nearly falling with the sudden movement before he is settling back into his seat. “You can give me requests,” You turn to look at the two. “But I will veto it if it’s bad.”

“It will be bad.” Ace mutters.

“Really?” You quickly turn to look at him, a teasing smile on your face. “You remember that i’m holding your phone, right? Your music taste is crazy-“

“He hates anything we suggest.” Sabo dramatically rolls his eyes.

“Not true.”

“Is so.” Luffy agrees.

You laugh as the brothers bicker back and forth, making your song selection and queuing up a few more to follow.

Sabo is then tapping you on the arm, “Play something by The Neighborhood.”

“No.” Ace groans.

“And what if i already had one of their songs queued?” You look expectantly at the driver.

Ace frowns, glancing over at you, “Did you?” You simply stare back at him to give nothing away. “I’ll allow it.”

“You’re so predictable.” Sabo scoffs.

The remainder of the ride is full of loud conversations shouted over the music, Ace eventually pulling into the gravel lot. The brothers explode from the car as Luffy complains of how hungry he is as he approaches the building with a large grin. The bell jingles as the door swings shut behind you all.

“You’re back!” The cheery smile you’re greeted with is familiar as Jana, your waitress from last time, meets you all at the door. “Thought blondie was preparing some big feast for you today?”

“Oh he is, but i’m starving right now.” Luffy offers a toothy smile.

“I’m sure you are, honey.” She laughs, collecting four menus and gesturing for you all to follow. The booth she leads you to is significant smaller than the last time but perfectly accommodates your smaller group.

The way everyone falls into the booth is entirely natural, no thought put behind it as Luffy bounces into the seat across from you with Sabo sliding in at his side. It seems like you’re the only one who considers the way Ace moves in beside of you. He sits a bit too close, your shoulder pressed against his and his knee bumping yours as he manspreads into the booth. It’s such a man thing to do. Such an inconvenience. But it’s him.

So you say nothing.

“I want one of everything this time.” Luffy hums in thought, eyes glancing over pictures of food rather than the listed items.

“Just remember, Sanji is putting in the work, so don’t order too-“ Your words trail off as Luffy blinks absently at you. After all, you were talking to the men affectionately deemed black holes due to how much food they could put down. No matter how much the brothers ate now, they would certainly be starving come dinner time. “Nevermind.”

“Oh! They have fancy lemonade drinks, looks like something Sanji would make for you, Nami, and Robin.” Luffy thrusts his menu forwards to show you the picture of the nonalcoholic mixed drinks. “We should all get one, because it’s my birthday.” His reasoning has you all laughing, but easily giving in. You were almost certain that wasn’t going to be his last abuse of the birthday power.

Jana reappears to collect your drink orders, making comments and offering suggestions on the best drinks. She quickly waltzes away to put in the orders and it is not long before she is back with four glasses, the small diner being rather empty at the odd time of day.

“Here we are.“ She hands out the brightly colored drinks respectively. “And why don’t i go ahead and take your orders?” Going around the table, having to flip her page at least once, she collects everyone’s orders and it off to put those in.

Grabbing one of the straws, you watch as a straw wrapper flies past your head to hit Ace. His is then swiftly shot back at Sabo. Luffy makes an attempt to shoot his at you, but it simply falls unceremoniously to the table before you. You quickly twirl the end of the wrapper to shoot Luffy right between the eyes before he could attempt saving his and reshooting.

“No fair! It’s my birthday.” He pouts, rubbing the spot between his eyes as if any damage was dealt.

“You started it.” You stick your tongue out before plunging the straw into the cherry limeade. Taking a sip, the lime flavor immediately attacks your taste buds and has your nose wrinkling.

“Don’t like it?” Ace prompts.

“No, it’s good, the lime is just crazy sour.”

Ace smiles, “Try mine. It’s mango lemonade.” He moves the bright orange drink over to you, tilting his straw in your direction.

You hesitate, “You sure.”

“Yeah?” Ace laughs as if your hesitation was odd. As if sharing food and drinks- something you had never seen him do with his brothers- was entirely normal. Natural.

So you trade him drinks, telling him to try the sour drink. His lips pucker as the red liquid touches his tongue, “Oh man, you’re right. That’s sour.” He shakes his head like a dog, all exaggerated and floppy hair.

His drink, however, was a striking sweetness that you certainly favored over your own. “Oh wow, that’s good.” You mutter and take another small sip, before offering the glass back to him.

Ace takes another slow sip of the limeade, nose crinkling, then decisively placing the glass out of your reach. “We’re switching, yours is better.”

You roll your eyes at the notion, “You’re definitely lying. Give me my drink back.” Your hand hangs in the air as you motion for your glass.

“I’m not lying, now take your drink.” Ace nudges the red glass back over to you.

Sabo watches the interaction closely, a lopsided smile falling on his face as his eyes zero in on his brother. “Thought you didn’t like cherry?” Sabo lifts a brow.

Your eyes narrow at Ace, “We don’t have to switch-“

“I like any food, okay, now drink your drink.” Ace easily waves you off. Sabo opens his mouth again, but any words are subject to a sudden yelp as he jumps in his seat. Ace holds a satisfied smirk at this.

↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟

The day has grown dark and Luffy is more than restless in anticipation. He was banished from going outside… what ever projects Ussop, Franky, and Zoro were working on now being shifted onto the sand. He was kicked out of the kitchen… Sanji would go insane if the guy tried to swipe one more piece of meat. And you have now lost count how many times Nami has yelled at him for pacing and complaining in his wait, unable to keep his focus on the card game Robin attempted to initiate.

You were certain the guy would have been throttled by now if not for it being his birthday.

Then, Sanji pops into the living room with an easy air about him, meaning only one thing. Luffy practically leaps out of his seat in his haste to get to the kitchen. The guys are already gathered there, Sanji very well knowing that Luffy wouldn’t have waited for them to trail in from outside.

So everyone settles around the table with mouths watering from the smell of each and every dish meticulously crafted and somehow still hot. Sanji settles in his seat with a proud smile as his friends dig into the food. Compliments are thrown around and the food is absolutely devoured. Hours upon hours of work that didn’t even hold up for a whole hour- but every dish was reduced to crumbs and every piece of meat picked clean from the bone. You were almost certain those would have been consumed too, if possible.

With a few helping hands, plates are cleared away, and Sanji is throwing the fridge open for the final piece. He collects the tray and presents a three tiered cake, covered in white frosting and chopped pieces of fruit. Perfectly crafted. Perfectly detailed. And absolutely gorgeous.

Dipping three candles into the top, Sanji flicks his golden lighter and all eyes fall on Luffy.

Cheerful voices echo the words of happy birthday and Luffy drops his head as feelings overwhelm. To be in a room full of his loved ones, all gathered for him, all planned for him. Monkey D Luffy was the richest guy in the world.

He blows the candles out and Sanji quickly cuts him a pieces before the cakes integrity could be compromised. There would be no face smashing or cake biting while the chef was around. Plates adorning the decadent birthday cake are passed around and the flavors absolutely burst in your mouth. Not too sweet. Fruit not too bitter. Everything a perfect balance.

You almost think you see tears in Luffy’s eyes.

With the food devoured in its entirety and the dishes stacked by the sink, Franky calls everyone but Luffy outside to put the finishing touches. Luffy groans at the prospect of being stuck inside alone for a moment, but he relents.

However, as everyone trails outside, he catches your arm.

“Hey, keep me company for a minute?” He prompts. You signal Nami to let her know and she quickly waves you off. Luffy’s eyes are glossy but he looks full of nothing but joy. “I think I forgot to say it, but I just wanted to thank you for this entire week.” Luffy smiles his bright, toothy smile.

“Don’t mention it, really, it was a group effort-“

“And i’ll thank all of them too.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But now, I’m thanking you. You really are one of my best friends. I was…” Luffy’s head tilts in thought. “Lonely… as a kid. Before i met Ace and Sabo. So it means a lot that you would do something like this for me of all people.”

“Of course, i’d do anything for you.” You smile back at him. “We all would. None of us would be together without you, and i’m sure that would be a horribly boring life.”

Luffy laughs through his grin, throwing his arms around you and pulling you tight to his chest. “I am fun, aren’t I?” He hums happily.

Lost in the conversation, you’re entirely unaware of the man lingering just outside of the room. Ace feels his heart in his throat as the words ring through his mind. You would do anything for Luffy. For his little brother. Is that something he could mess up?

He doesn’t realize the two of you have moved until you nearly knock into him. Shaking out of his daze, he offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’re all ready for you.” He informs Luffy.

You slow to a stop before him as Luffy excitedly runs for the door. “Everything okay?”

Ace nods slowly, “Of course.”

Lips purse, unsure if you believe him, you shake your head and relent. “Right, well, we better head out before we miss the big surprise.” Ace nods silently.

The two of you trail outside just in time to see Luffy excitedly crouched down, a lighter in hand. His laugh echoing in the air is followed by a low whistling. Then, something shoots into the night sky to explode into a flurry of red and orange lights.

A grin falls on your face, “A fireworks show.”

“Oh yeah, and they’re stacked.” Ace chuckles, nodding his head towards the huge display of fireworks. “We, uh, we should take a seat. I don’t think anyone’s getting that lighter from Luffy or Ussop, so we can just, ya know, enjoy the show.” The way he speaks is muttered and clearly something seems to be bothering him.

But you let it go. Just for the night.

Instead you settle beside of Ace on one of the many blankets, watching as the night sky explodes in every color of the rainbow. It seems that the trio didn’t hold back in their selections. Not only were there the common starbursts, but fireworks that erupt into the shape of skulls and food and anything else you could imagine.

As one particularly loud one booms into the night sky, you can feel eyes on you. Your lips press together as you try to focus your eyes ahead but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of the man at your side.

Your head turns and your eyes lock with his.

Completely entranced. Neither of you can tear your eyes aware from each other despite the booming that echoes in the air. The colorful reflections sparkle in Ace’s eyes and draw you in even closer.

A warm hand falls to your cheek as his thumb brushes gently over your skin. His gaze softens before flickering down to your lips. You swallow hard and your lips part in anticipation. He finally meets your gaze again and you’re both leaning in closer, as if being pulled by an invisible string.

Your lips are only inches apart and you can feel his breath on your face. You lean in even closer, about to close the gap…

When he turns his head.

He turns his head.

And suddenly an overwhelming anxiety strikes inside of you. Heat fills your entire being and you’re certain he can feel it against the hand still on your face. “Doll, i’m sorry, I-“

“No,” You immediately cut him off. You jump at the sound of the next firework, unexpected. “It’s, uh, yeah.” Muttering the words that you can’t even seem to form, you’re unable to meet his eye at the embarrassment that squeezes at your throat. Scrambling to your feet, you break away from his side and rush towards the cabin. Tears sting at your eyes and the entire week comes crashing down on you.

How could you be so stupid?

Series Masterlist | Chapter 09

tag list: @flooofity @certain-tragedies @zzzzzoey @stuckinmymind22 @kanekisheart @lxpofthegods @weirdothatreads @dailybrekker @spyderst4r @nejilost @thekatisspooky @narnian-neverlander

[jesuistrestriste]

Sage hear me out.

Imagine taking pictures of Stanford art in the SLUTTIEST lingerie and using it as blackmail or to get what you want.

“Huh, I guess I’m gonna have to show Patrick that photo-”

“W-wait- fine.. just take my credit card..”

oh i’m hearinggg you out !

dressing him up in pretty pieces of frilly pink and black lingerie; caressing the straps of the bralette while he flushes and looks away. he pouts while you snap pictures and tell him how beautiful he is, but he secretly adores the way you dote on him—the way you put him in vulnerable positions while he’s in front of your lens..

it gets him throbbing under all of the lace.

so when he involuntarily cums all over the inside of the panties (that basically hold only half of his cock) after the first fifteen photos—a brush of your hand along his inner thigh being all that it takes for him to lose it—you have to blackmail him a little so he’ll pawn over his bank cards or some cash (for you to buy a new, clean set).

at first, he shakes his head and blames you for his premature ejaculation:/ telling you how he ‘wouldn’t have climaxed so fast if you hadn’t touched him in one of his weakspots’. which is basically him telling you that he won’t pay for a replacement pair of panties.

but his tune changes veryy quickly when you flip the camera around and show him all of the nasty photos you took of him just a couple of minutes prior.

including one where he’s actively orgasming.

his toned tummy curled in while his eyes stay squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open in a sharp keen. he’s pink from his cheeks down to his chest. dribbles of sticky, milky white cascading over his skin.

“if you don’t pay for what you ruined, i’m gonna send this to everyone i know. and that includes patrick.”

and art’s eyes widen immediately. he’s scrambling to pull his wallet out from his abandoned gym bag on the floor, while also trying to ignore the twitch he feels down there at the idea of being exposed in such a way..

he’s a complex guy.

and he thinks you’re manipulative, but at least you’re 80 bucks richer !!

[yayll]

Hi!! It’s my first time requesting something so I dont know how that works.. um I was thinking of some mission like some kind of ball that dazai and y/n has to go and y/n has to seduce someone to get information out of them. You know those masquerade balls? Yeah I think that really goood!! And dazai gets sooooooooo jealous and after she got the information dazai kiss her infront of that person to show him that she’s his😭😭😭😭😭😭omg

HIII angel sorry this took me a while, but i hope you like it :') i tweaked your idea a lil and fingers crossed this is what you so graciously asked for. i tried to put my best jealous goofy ass dazai in there along with the absolute MUSH his brain turns into when he has you to himself mixed with a lil........ fucked in the headness. i love requests! this was soooo fun to write i love youuuuuu <3

~ a little something about Dazai and his uncharacteristic jealousy ~

"Osamu, come on... You're my only sweetheart, you know that."

You call out half sweetly and half out of breath as you follow him down the hallway of the lavish event you were currently attending, dressed to the nines and trying to remain undercover. You were coming to realize why people didn't date within the workplace as he walked ahead, grumbling to himself. He's trying to remain unfazed, pretending to still be upset as he shrugs with his back turned to you.

"Hmph. I dunno, I don't feel like I'm your 'sweet' anything..."

This causes you to roll your eyes affectionately and pick up the pace, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder to finally stop him in his tracks. You flash him a sincere smile, and speak softly.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that. I didn't know that asshole was going to kiss me after he let me go. I also didn't think you'd ever get jealous..."

You say that last part with a more playful tone, treading dangerous waters of your unpredictable lover's emotions. As expected, he sighs dramatically, casting you a look of disgust.

"Ugh, of course I'm not... That's honestly sooo lame and pathetic. I can entertain jealousy as much as I can entertain one of Kunikida's little speeches on morals, or whatever."

"You mean his 'ideals'?"

You chide, stifling a laugh. He glares at you, his eyes narrowing as he scans you for a moment.

He can't find a single flaw on that precious face, not a single stray hair or stain on your exquisite outfit. He should change that by the end of the night.

"... You're always so negative, correcting me and whatnot. Isn't it tiring being so irritatingly superior in every way?"

This one gets a laugh out of you, You can tell he's slowly lightening up his mood by the way you both begin walking side by side once again.

"Yeah well, if it weren't for that little kiss earlier, we'd both still be all tied up in the wine cellar of this wonderful party."

He flashes you a pout, and shrugs dismissively.

"And here I thought you of all people would like the idea of being tied up with me. Hmph, wrong partner, I suppose."

Now he was starting to pick back at you, though it was cute. Jealousy looked cute on him, it was something you didn't think he was capable of. It was a pity it had to be during a mission where your main asset was your seduction skills and his was mental instability. You hated every second of it, but you also wanted to make sure you both made it out with the secret intel alive.

You make your way into the grand ballroom, the gala is in full swing, and your eyes dart around to find a proper escape route. Just as you see an exit, a handsome and well dressed young man blocks your view, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. You're gorgeous. Care for a dance?"

You stare down at his hand and then back up at the stranger, your face flushing as you're caught off guard.

"Me? No, no I-"

Dazai immediately interjects, sloppily holding a glass of champagne that somehow manifested in his hand and pretends to be drunk. He loved his theatrics, especially when he was desperate.

He bumps harshly into the young man's shoulder, the alcohol sloshing out of the cup as he slurs, but not before he flashes you a wink to tell you to play along.

"Sooo sorry, pardon me. This indeed beautiful angel is quite busy you see... Taking care of me that is. Ooh, I'm a wreck! I'm nothing but a sad and lonely dog.. In this sad and lonely world-"

The man looks at Dazai skeptically, and huffs into a chuckle. He shoves him away, and turns his attention back to you. Your eyes dart nervously between the two, wondering what Dazai will do next.

"Shut it, clown.. Anyway, I think this further proves you should be in the company of a gentleman like me tonight rather than this wet mop-"

The sound of a champagne flute soaring through the air and connecting to the man's skull is suddenly heard, interrupting him and sending him falling to the ground along with broken glass and liquid everywhere. In one swift motion, Dazai is at your side with a premature victorious smirk, but before you can both be on your way, the man regains his posture and spins him around, punching him square in the face. Dazai's not scrawny or weak, but he isn't the most skilled fighter, relying mostly on his special ability and intelligence to get him out of things.

You gasp, instinctively grabbing Dazai by the collar of his suit and dragging him away to get lost in the crowd of concerned people. You finally make it outside and you both collapse onto the soft grass just outside the venue. It's decorated with all kinds of flowers and fragrant rose bushes, it almost looks like you're at the garden of Versailles. You look over at Dazai, his nose bleeding all over the place, but he looks completely unbothered by it. As you reach over to touch the bridge of his nose, he grabs your wrist and holds it away gently. He waves a finger at you.

"No touchy, I've got it."

He does not, in fact, got it. He looks around until he plucks a rose petal and uses it to wipe his nostrils. You frown, getting all up in his space within an instant.

"What on earth are you doing, Osamu? Let me help, you goofball. Your nose is a mess thanks to that stunt you pulled."

You tear off a bit of fabric from your outfit and dab his skin tenderly, holding his head on your lap now. You can see some blood has trailed down his neck, staining the bandages there along with the collar of his crisp white dress shirt you picked out for him this morning. Dazai perks up, his voice slightly strained but full of lightheartedness.

"How does it feel to work with the agency's most tactical and covert operative? Eh?~"

You bite back a smile, and shake your head. You murmur.

"Feels like he's asking for a death wish a little more than usual."

Your lips soon become a thin line, realizing your statement hurts a little more in the context of the situation than it usually would. He notices your mood shift as his eyes flicker from your concerned eyes down to your lips and back up again. He knows it hurts you when he's like this, reckless and acting out on the impulses of his own plans. He wants to sit up and close the gap between you, kiss you until you drop down those brave walls you're putting up for the sake of the mission. For the sake of your feelings for him. He knows he's careless with it all.

He hums, eyes trained on you as if burning the image of your heavenly self into his mind, where you always deserve to be. In the distance, a bulky sketchy looking man runs out of the venue frantically, looking around wildly and you both get the impression it's the guy from the cellar earlier who kissed you in exchange for your freedom.

Shit! You could have sworn you knocked him out cold. Dazai sits up from your lap and you two scoot more into the bush, trying to hide from him as he makes a call. You mutter under your breath, turning to Dazai as you begin to type something out on your communicator.

"Now's the perfect time to let the others know we're ready for extraction."

He's already looking at you, or gazing admiringly more like. He knows he can fuck up everything, pay any consequence, but the thing he needs to get right for the selfishness of his wretched little heart is you. He scoots a bit closer, hearing the sounds of both your shallow breaths harmonizing. He mutters, softly.

"It would also be the perfect time for you to kiss my face better. You know, for my wellness and all that. Besides, that guy wasn't very nice to us earlier and we need to get rid of any traces of him from those lips. Yuck."

You roll your eyes yet again, despite the fluttering that won't let your stomach rest.

"Who cares about that, we have a case to close first."

He smirks, voice dropping low and provocative.

"I care."

He leans in even further, practically caging you with both arms on either side of you. He can feel your breathing become more erratic, his own filled with a pathetic sense of need he always has when he's with you. Dazai's hand reaches out and grabs your chin, turning it up slightly to face him, making sure you drop this silly act once and for all. His voice comes out gentle, firm.

"I need you to physically push me away, or I swear I'm going to kiss you right now, cutie."

Your eyes widen as you let a shaky breath escape your plush lips, murmuring in return.

"I'll.. punch you in the nose again, you know..."

His hand moves from your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he takes another breath, his body aching to be as close to yours as possible. His eyes are fixed on you, tearing you apart right then and there, but not before putting you back together so nicely. In that moment, he knows you don't mean that, and he knows he can't resist anymore.

He then whispers with a finality, the anticipation torturing him like you do on a daily basis.

"I don't think I'm going to listen to that..."

You break into a faint smile as you perceive him back.

"You've still got a little blood on your-"

Without another word, Dazai closes the remaining distance between you and him, kissing you with fervor as his soft whines reverberate against your lips. You taste sweetness and then... metallic as your lips mesh together for a heavenly moment. He feels alive, this was what he needed, the soothing balm for his soul and any other wound only you could provide. He's like a vampire, a parasite leeching off of your very essence so he could be himself around you. Cowardly burrowing into the safety of your heart. You squirm just a tad, your fingers carding through his brown hair as you try to keep up. He pulls back after his nose can't push more air through and keeps his lips hovering over yours, feeling the heat from your mouth mingle with his as he sees your lips stained red with his blood. Just as he's going to comment on how disgustingly erotic it is to see you like that, he pushes away the indecent thoughts, using the bandage on his wrist to wipe your mouth instead.

"Okay, I'll be good for now. You can call for extraction.~"

It was a dumb thing to do and could be seen as him being territorial or jealous, but the reality of it was that it was the natural order of things when it came to the way he processed his affections. Someone gets in between the two of you in any way?

An uglier and more dangerous past version of himself would have called for an immediate execution, there was a reason he held the titles that he did. He did his very best to keep that mentality at bay, rebuking it every time he felt a dark urge that he felt needed to be dealt with, mostly for your sake and for the sake of the promise he made to a friend once. Though he can't lie and say that's not who he is anymore, he can always find a better way to get his point across... even if a wishful bullet to the head comes out in the form of a kiss on your precious lips. He'll try for you. He'll wear the fastidious label proudly and be Dazai, a jealous man.

[casuallyanidiot]

what do you think of yandere priest but in more of a cult vibe?

Like a mother and young adult reader came to the neighborhood and the mother joined the "church" and became crazy religious

Okay, here me out, yandere priest to a cult that's not really a cult, but some multi level marketing scheme.

Tw. for age gap, financial abuse, and religious themes

He's less motivated by faith than he is his own greed. He loves living in luxury scoffs at the notion that he should be more humble. He worms his way into a quaint, suburban neighborhood slowly but surely over several years and drips in bits and pieces of information about a company that's just guaranteed to make you money.

You get to work from home! Be your own boss! And the products themselves work miracles!

Yandere Priest who is calm, charismatic, suave, and oh so charming. Most of the flock he tends to don't even realize he's scamming them out of their life's savings. They're all just far too dumb to even think of him in a negative light.

You and your mom moved to the neighborhood after finally managing to improve your financial situation. You were enrolled in a local community college and had several low paying jobs along with your mother, and the two of you lived frugally until you could afford enough to live in a nicer part of town than the one you had been stuck in your entire life.

The two of you are welcomed warmly by the church, the community, and yandere priest. Your mom is happy to have found such a nice place to live, and she's instantly enticed by the promises of making money through joining the congregation. She gets a bit of success through it at first, and soon she's hooked.

You however, don't buy it one bit.

Yandere priest is intrigued by you. While your mother begins to zealously preach the word of the bible and the word of his money, you seem to have an inherent distrust for him. It makes sense, he thinks. He essentially just views your little family as another wallet in his collection. Still, as much as he understands you, a poor little lamb who wasn't joined his flock yet, he can't let you roam free lest you lead others astray.

It's then he really starts to lay the charm on thick. You remain unconvinced despite the fact that he begins to visit your home often (It's an honor by the way. Your mother knows her place. She graciously welcomes him in and shouts at you when you don't show him respect.), and he catches you scowling at him when you think no one is looking.

You're just so frustrating to him. At first you were like a little challenge to beat, something that he had to work to get for once, but you're proving to be a true pain in the neck. You cats doubt on his name to anyone who'll listen, argue with your mom and try to get her to quit his church often, and he's even caught you trying to snoop around in some financial documents of others around the neighborhood. He begins to think of you as less of a lamb and more of a vixen.

It doesn't help that you're pretty and cute. You're a young faced, rebellious spit fire who calls him out like no one has before, and even though he grits his teeth every time you glare at him, he can't help but love it.

For the first time in a life, he actually has someone he would even deign to call an equal.

Just like with all the money he's sucked out of these poor people, he didn't care that you're practically half his age, or that he could ruin your life with a few words. No, all he wanted was for you to finally just give up, to just set aside your pride and let him win.

All the while, your mother has been changing. She was once a sweet if not ditzy woman who would do anything to protect her child, though now she was wrapped up in the same greed that had been running through this neighborhood since he sunk his teeth in it. Your finances had been depleted despite the fact that she insisted that the church's company was legitimate and making good money. While the two of you had been close, she would yell at you for anything that went out of line from what the church and Yandere priest preached.

You were losing your mother, your community, your hope. If this habit of her spending all of your money on the church continued, soon you were worried that you wouldn't be able to pay for the house or your tuition. You were desperate to get your life back in order, and who but him would be there with a single, honeyed option left for you?

Yandere priest was certain that if he bled you dry just a little longer, you'd eventually accept his oh so gracious offer and finally fall into his hands.

[sssunflowersmiles]

BESTIE.

Here to politely beg for boy dad!mv1 as your bf pretty please!!

much love !! 💕

OF COURSE MA CHERIE

[hisui-dreamer]

going hiking with jade but you have low stamina so you give it your best shot but there's no way you're keeping up with the mountain lovers club president hiking veteran that he is

so at one poin you'll lean into him, cuddling into his shoulder before looking up to stare at him with your best puppy dog eyes

"jadeee... i'm tired... carry me?" (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

he smiles endearingly at your antics, and the next thing you know, he's carrying you bridal style with his arms firmly on you

he doesn't mind if you'd whine and ask him to carry you more in the future. he quite enjoys being this close to you, and being so close to you face lets him see all the little details that he's grown ever so fond of, admiring your reactions closely as he explains what sort of fungi you're looking for

and of course, it's also the perfect position for him to steal a kiss ;)

[ghostsy]

Forever Hold Your Peace

WARNINGS: yandere, mentions of death, mentions of murder, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping, hand kink if you squint

A/N: another quick short drabble, pls enjoy a deranged lil wedding crasher dabi.

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! DABI X READER

“Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

She’d never known blue to be such an angry color, but even glowing with barely contained rage, she couldn’t help but find his eyes beautiful. 

“I can’t.” 

It was growing all around them now, ice-colored fire licking at the tattered remains of her white dress. Still, she thought the heat was less threatening than warm. 

Her answer seemed to physically wound him, the soft tremble in his brow almost begging her to say something. Something to justify whatever confusing ugly thing he felt finally standing in front of her after all these years. Something that would let him sleep at night if he were to burn her bones to ash that moment, give into that cruel voice in his fractured mind demanding he destroy any and every memory that had ever made him feel something. 

“You broke your promise.”

“I wasn’t aware there were promises to keep with corpses.” There she was, that quick wit he remembered her for, loved her for, once upon a time. Even with his hand at her throat, even with the blood of the man she’d just sworn to love until death–another corpse, whose promise had quickly been fulfilled–even with his blood smeared across her cheek, she still stood tall, dignified.

“Is that what I am to you?” He breathed, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, fingers flexing at the feel of her racing pulse under her neck, “A corpse?” It was a silly question; the patchwork wounds stapled to his rotting skin suggested he was anything but a real, living, man. If he thought about it, he really hadn’t been living for quite some time.

“No, I suppose not,” Her voice was shaky, and he couldn’t tell if the mascara-stained tears wetting her cheeks were for the mass of burning bodies behind them or for him, “More of a ghost.”

The corner of his lips quirked up, huffing a short, bitter laugh, “A ghost,” He pondered for a moment, “I like it,” His other hand made its way up from her hip, brushing at the underside of her clothed breasts, “Here I am haunting you, after all.”

“I think,” Her hands balled into fists, but he made note as they stayed trembling at her sides, “That you’re here haunting us both.”

“I guess you’re right,” His eyes fell to scan her singed gown, “In another life,” Ignoring the clenching of her jaw, he continued, “You’d have worn that dress for me.”

She swallowed, “In another life,” Her eyes left his now, sweeping the mutilated remains littering the pews, “You’d have loved me enough.”

All of a sudden he tore himself from her as if she’d burned him, “Loved you enough?” An incredulous laugh as his arm stretched out to the scene behind them, “What the fuck is all this if it isn’t enough?” 

“It’s really so devastating,” She sighed out a name that was once his, and he was surprised at the weight one word could leave on his heart, “That you would consider this love.” But his anger had returned full force, and he thought maybe now he’d be able to kill her.

“Did you love him?” 

Here it was, the answer that would seal her fate. He could do it if she said what he knew she’d say. He would do it.

“No,” His heart skipped a beat, “I do love him.” And all at once, the mangled coal in his chest crumbled to ash. Do it. You said you’d do it. Do it, you fucking coward.

No, he needed more. His fingers twitched at his sides, sparks of blue igniting and snuffing out in nervous repetition. Just one more thing, and he could do it. 

“You can’t keep a promise to a corpse,” He spat, “But you can love one?” He stepped closer to her, glowing eyes narrowed, staring down at her.

“Not any more or less than one can love a ghost, I’d imagine.”

His hands flew back to her throat, and he wrenched her face up to meet his, “And do you?” His voice fell to a raspy whisper, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of fury or desperation, “Love a ghost?”

“I don’t want to,” And again more tears welled and fell, “I really didn’t want to.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His words were shaking with anticipation, fingers trembling as they cradled her cheeks.

“Does it matter?” She sniffed, eyes flickering to the carnage, “I shouldn’t. Especially now, I shouldn’t,” There was a wrinkle in her brow that betrayed her self-disgust, “I never should have.”

He swallowed, gaze catching on her lips, “But you do.” He’d meant it to come out as a question, but there was a sort of finality in his words. She makes you weak. Kill her. Do it. Now. Do it now. Shut up.

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her face firmly, “No matter where I go,” The turn of her voice was bitter, “You haunt me.”

A soft, manic laugh, “I think,” He leaned down, lips brushing hers, “We’ve both been haunting each other.” And after a month-long moment he surged forward, crashing his mouth against her own, tongue swallowing the strangled yelp that died in her throat.

He stepped forward as she stumbled back from the force, and her fingers flew to grip at his wrists in an attempt to stabilize herself, nails digging into the ruined skin. His leg steadied between both of hers, the bones in his patchwork hands straining as they pulled her into him, as if he were trying to make her body melt into his; make him whole.

Finally she ripped herself from him, stumbling, and wiped furiously at her lips, “I don’t want you,” Her voice was hoarse as she caught her breath, “Nothing else matters, because I don’t want you.”

It was like someone had poured ice water in his veins, and he’d come to the terrifying conclusion that it didn’t matter what she said or did; she could tell him she wanted him dead, and he’d still find an excuse to keep her here with him. 

“I don’t care,” A breathless confession.

After years without, he hadn’t realized just how starved the idea of letting her go would make him feel. He intended for his flames to swallow her whole when he'd found her again, but there was an entirely more appetizing option. He’d starved himself long enough.

The tapestries along the walls had caught fire, and the light shone through the stained glass windows, casting a blue tint across her skin. Like it was marking her as his. His hand shot out to wrap around her wrist when she tried to turn away, and he yanked her back to him.

“Nothing else matters, because I don’t care.”

She tried and failed to pull her arm from his bruising grip, feet sliding as she used her full weight, “Kill me, then,” She choked on a sob, “Why don’t you just kill me, then?”

He stared at her a long moment as she struggled, streaks of ruined makeup painting her cheeks, that once angel-white gown stained black with ash, a gloss in her eyes he could only describe as heartbreak, and he couldn’t help but think that she’d never looked so beautiful.

“I can’t.”

[i-shall-abide]

Forgive me if I am ignorant of any BIPOC individuals reclaiming the term, but when I see stuff tagged “Southern Belle” my IMMEDIATE thought is, “oh this is a white supremacist”

[terrence-silver]

(This is the plot opening to the movie Mulholland Drive) If beloved was a victim of a car crash but she survives with scars on all over body with amnesia and is seen stumbling down Los Angeles by Terry, what do you think he’d do when he sees her?

---

To reference my previous post here but, yeah, finders keepers?

He has a perfect opportunity to do, oh, I don't know, just about whatever he wants and simultaneously seem like the hero? The benefactor? Have complete and utter control over a situation and an individual? Appear like a kind man saving a car crash survivor? All while tenderly molding the person? Utilizing their amnesia to make himself whatever in reference to them and vice versa, effectively invading their life? Pushing aside any and all family members because he'll pretend to be concerned for beloved's mental state and how many people they should be around in the first place to ''avoid overburdening their traumatized psyche', all while, in reality, he wants to be the only one on their mind from now on. Nobody else. Practically abducting beloved from the world by alerting pretty much nobody of importance that he found a full blown person next to a vehicle wreckage. Again! It's for beloved's benefit, he promises! Their brain needs rest. Their body too. You'll find this man has an excuse and a valid, moral-sounding explanation for everything, all while selling the whole situation like there's no strings attached. That he has noble intentions in mind. That Terry Silver's merely doing this --- this whole business of taking someone like this under his wing out of sheer unselfishness, unable to let some poor, poor lost lamb wonder the highway bloodied and bruised?

He's too much of an sweet hearted man to do that, don't you know?

But, of course, we know nothing's for free and that he seldom ever does anything without an agenda, if ever, that he's ultimately claiming beloved in their most vulnerable state, leaving out any and all authorities from the issue (or promptly bribing them off) bypassing every rule of ethics and usurping beloved's whole life into his own, making himself indispensable, necessary, the support network of the century. He can sell whatever lies he wishes to them, tell whatever truths he deems fit, give way to half-truths, partial truths, twisted truths, gaslight them, shape their memories however he pleases, manipulate them, seduce them, isolate them, take them into private treatment off the records instead of maintaining them in a hospital because it's frightening what a powerful person with money can get away with, make it seem like his presence here is entirely beloved's idea because they need him ---- look at the state of them after all; they absolutely cannot be unsupervised and no, no, Terry's conscience cannot allow him to leave them, at least until he's sure they're better, basically wiggling his way in and seeming like a saint while he does it, making beloved seem like the unreasonable party for doubting him or wanting privacy --- they barely survived and yet they shrug away any and all help, especially when he's offering help so readily and with so much passion --- he could have beloved feeling irrational, indebted and ungrateful in no time, and himself, as the ever-understanding best friend in the whole wide world they didn't know they lacked until now. Look at the all the things he's done for them, after all; their recovery resort is a palatial mansion, they've a waiting staff, private nurses (probably contractually obliged into silence) and an array of security, for their own protection, even though, he's here. He'll protect them. What happened to them will never happen again. He'll look after them. He'll look after them so well.

But, that's why Terry loves LA.

Opportunities like this are sprawled out in the streets in front of him every day, and all he has to do is find them, recognize their worth, potential or in beloved's case, there was a literal diamond chunk on the highway, and since he's picked it up, cleaned it, polished it, it's his for the keeping. Into his pocket it goes. The rules of the game are what you make them. Everything he'll plant inside of beloved's head will be infinitely better than whatever their life previously was considering their previous existence didn't have him. Boo. And clearly, whoever beloved's original social circle was allowed them to total their car and nearly die --- something Terry takes immensely personally, holding an outright grudge over the whole thing and everyone involved, refusing to view and accident as an accident; more like a reason to retaliate. A reason for revenge. Not that he won't utilize the needed channels to find out everything about beloved anyway outside of his conditioning because he'll feel it's his right to know the same way it's his right to withhold whatever it is he knows. As I said; finders keepers. Beloved's mind, body and soul all belong to him now.

[eowynstwin]

Also this fic is not exactly going to be Bridgerton rules, given the racist underpinning of the Gaz-König thing in fandom, but I don’t really want to write any overt hate crimes given that this fic is for fun. So if you’re reading it and thinking “is this referencing him being black” the answer is almost always going to be yes

[dapurinthos]

parts of the rise and fall of the galactic empire were written for me i swear:

lolololol his biography is titled after his dying words from legends

also, this is getting added to my 'cavan scott 2k27 aotc-tie-in novel' foreshadowing moodboard:

i just realized that i do have dr kempshall's other book, which i'm going to load on my kobo to read immediately after this because the level of satisfaction i am getting out of reading a star wars history book written by an actual, professional historian is off the charts. the homework has been done holy shit.

just look at this revenge of the sith novelization reference:

from:

[salembehindbars]

The Phoenix by Sylvia Townshed Warner is my favorite short story, I wish I could find a physical copy.