#and i still managed to enjoy it y'know

[seriouslyseravellan]

it's so fuckin funny to me that one of the devs was like "oh the combat in veilguard will be ACTUALLY FUN" like... bitch i LIKED the combat in origins and 2! it was actually fun for me! the issue was that you fucking CHANGED it for inquisition, and now you're changing it again! it doesn't even feel like dragon age combat anymore! what is wrong with you

[sysig]

I am attempting embroidery

So far?

This shit fucking rules

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

So, I just??? Randomly just the motivation for this??? So enjoy more Tealstar stuff ig lol. Tried to do a lot here, not sure how well it worked for me. You can tell I got a little rundown at Tongbi's part, but I was still really determined to finish this, so. Here ya go.

   Chikao loved the storm.

   The smell of fresh rain and the swirl of dark clouds overhead lit up by flashes of lightning that split the sky in two and sent deep, booming thunder rippling over the land was something she could never get tired of.  Every lightning strike lit up her eyes, she could feel the vibration of thunder running deep within her bones, and the entire world was pulled just a little to the side by the chilling winds that whipped past.

   She was fond of the world after a storm, too.  The way the smell of rain lingered for a week afterwards, clouds drifted past so you could see sheets of rain coming down in the distance as they left, the sudden abundance of greens and the pinks and blues and yellows of plants as they sprouted up, the splashing of puddles gathered in random dips in the ground and squishing of deep brown mud as water sunk into the soil.  She loved that.  Loved everything about it.

   And the best part was that she could do it.  On a whim, whenever she wanted, she could summon the clouds and lightning and feel the very storm surging through her bones.  She could feel the world come alive in a way so, so different than it did in the shine of the sun.

   But, unfortunately, not everyone was so welcoming.

   And why weren’t they?  What was even the point of limiting her ability to create storms?  Why did she have to “register” a storm or whatever to create one?  It wasn’t like she was creating out-of-control tornados or setting forests on fire with lightning.  Most of the time, it was just a little rain to give the village crops a boost!

   But the Celestial Realm hadn’t seen it that way.  The first time Nezha had come down to meet her, he had called it “undermining the Jade Emperor’s authority” and “breaking the laws of the Celestial Realm” and “a matter to be taken seriously”.  But honestly?  How could she take someone that had come down to lecture her about why she couldn’t summon rain without paperwork seriously.

   And that was all it had been, for a while.  Something funny, eventually just a friend coming down to spar.  Barely an annoyance.  Not even a concern.

   And then Princess Iron Fan had joined him.  And they’d struggled over the winds of the storm, trying to turn them on each other to gain an advantage.  And then…

   Flash

   And then people had gotten hurt.

   And the Celestial Realm was angry.

   Stealing the Peaches of Immortality from their orchard?  That was probably just the cherry on top.

   But even when they’d come to arrest Chikao for her “crimes” (come on, they were peaches), they’d made a mistake to dare go after Tongbi.

   Chikao sighed quietly as she stared up at the endless night sky, the stars twinkling back at her like tiny diamonds against a sheet of inky paint.  It felt so close when the storm was swirling around it, the wind catching every little loose thing on the ground and throwing around every small hair out of place, but when the night was clear like this and she was laying on the ground beside Tongbi…it felt so, so far away.  She itched for it to be close again, to touch the clouds and feel their water in her hands. 

   She wondered if, in a world where Nezha had time, where Nezha could step away from his celestial duties and just relax for a moment, they could fly around through the clouds and throw water at each other.

   She didn’t live in that world.  She didn’t know.

   “Chikao?” Tongbi’s soft voice pulled Chikao out of her thoughts.

   “Yeah?” Chikao rolled onto her side to look at Tongbi, flattening the grass beneath her. 

   Tongbi’s eyes stayed on the sky as he spoke and his hands picked through the fur on his tail.  His voice was muffled by his dark green scarf as he buried his face into the fabric.  “You won’t let them t-t-take you from me, will you?”

   A small spark of anger flashed in her chest.  She’d said they’d be together forever, and she’d meant it.  No Celestial Realm would change that.  “Of course not.  And I won’t let anyone hurt you, either.”

   Tongbi didn’t respond and Chikao rolled back onto her back with a soft sigh.  She didn’t want Tongbi to worry.  He shouldn’t have had to worry.  She dealt with Nezha and Iron Fan on her own fine, didn’t she?  And then even when more celestials had shown up, she’d dealt with it.  But Tongbi was still worried, and Chikao knew well by then that the only thing that was going to soothe his concern was time.

   Time, or get rid of the Celestial Realm’s meddling completely, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

   At least, that’s what she thought, as the days went by and Tongbi slowly felt safe being outside of his library again.  As toddlers and children became teens and adults.  As people aged and grayed and passed.

   Until the Brotherhood reached out with a dream.  A dream of glory and ambition.  A dream of change and prosperity.  A dream of safety and comfort.  A dream of freedom.  A dream of storms.

   A dream of a day storms could freely brew in the days, and the skies would be theirs at night.

   A dream where the Celestial Realm wouldn’t meddle, Nezha could freely come and go, and Tongbi’s concerns would vanish.

   And Chikao took it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tongbi hated surprises.

   The unexpected whirlwind of emotions he wasn’t ready for, having to think on his feet and his mind going blank, only moments to make a decision and if it was the wrong one he was doomed.  The mounting pressure of what felt like a mountain behind his head and the crushing weight of do or die that he just couldn’t pull himself out of.

   And the aftermath was worse.  Because then there were a hundred different feelings all weighing him down like boulders, telling him there was some way to alleviate their weight but not giving him a single how-to.  Sometimes the boulders were hot and sometimes electric and sometimes just heavy, and those meant different things, but he didn’t know what they meant.  But apparently, knowing what they meant and how to sort them out was the very key to getting them under control sometimes, because otherwise every time he thought about the surprise he would trigger another rockslide.

   Physically, Tongbi didn’t mind rocks, boulders, or even mountains.  Feet on the ground, dig his heels in, take a deep breath and move.  He could move boulders, sort out rockslides, split entire mountainsides in two that way.  The boulders he could touch the rough or smooth surfaces of were lighter than the ones that crushed his heart and held him down in the corner with tears spilling onto blurry pages, but never had a texture.

   Fortunately, people were welcoming.

   It had been a strange change after the curious chirps of the monkeys that found him hiding away in caves on Flower Fruit Mountain, but a warm one.  Chikao helped lift the boulders off his chest, explain some of the feelings and help him separate them apart so he could think without folding into a mess of matted fur and heavy emotions. 

   The warm nights of staring up at the stars and pointing out constellations as Chikao worked through his fur were the best nights he’d ever known.  Spending days reading books about the sun aloud and telling Chikao about asteroids that flew by brought him a warmth he could never quite explain.  Even the flower pin he had, with teal and red petals, served as a small comfort when he was alone, to remind him that someone cared.

   Though he had been nervous at first, the village was nice too.  Adults were happy to trust him to read about the phenomenon of eclipses to children and watch meteor showers with them, and the kids were always fascinated by his words and eager to ask questions and learn more.  Even on days where he didn’t have books, several of them were ready to ask questions and listen to him ramble. 

   And even as they grew and had more chores and work to tend to, nobody minded when he sat on a bench and read the afternoon away.

   Tongbi hummed a tune as his eyes scanned across neat words, written with meticulous precision.  Dust kicked up into the air as the click clack of horseshoes went by, but Tongbi was fully absorbed, the rest of the world blurred as he imagined how it would feel to step on the moon.  Would he feel lighter?  Would it feel like stone on earth, or dust, or powder, or something else entirely?  Would the stars look different?  What kind of new star charts could he make from there?

   “I’m bored!” The high-pitched whine of a kid caught his ear.  He almost called out to invite them to read, but…no, they probably didn’t want to hear him.  All of the kids he used to read to were teenagers or adults now, and had too much responsibility to bother listening to him anymore, and the new ones probably didn’t have any interest in him.

   “Hey, this guy’ll read to you about some pretty cool stuff, if you wanna.” Tongbi glanced up from his book to see a teenager with long black hair running down past her shoulders and freckles mixing with the dust and dirt on her face.  He felt a small flower of warmth bloom in his chest.  He knew this kid.  Did she still remember him?

   “Ooo, like what?” One of the children asked as their arms swung back and forth.

    “Well, you know the little white things that are up in the sky every night?” She smiled.

   “Uh-huuuuh.” The kid nodded.

   “Well, he taught me that those are called stars, and they’re actually very, very distant suns.” She said as she walked over to the bench Tongbi was sitting on.

   “Woah!” Three kids followed her, their eyes shining brighter than the sun. 

   “But suns don’t look like that.” Another kid frowned.

   “That’s the fun part.” She sat down in front of Tongbi and skimmed the title of his current book.  “He’ll explain the whole thing.”

   The kids promptly sat down in front of him, staring up with eager curiosity that filled Tongbi with warmth.  He started explaining, slowly at first, then faster when they only seemed more intrigued.  More children, kids playing in the village and teenagers he used to read to just finished with chores, came around him and sat down, enjoying his reading and explanations.

   He hoped this never changed.  And, luckily for him, it didn’t seem that was going to happen. 

   At least, that’s what he thought, as Tongbi’s reading slowly expanded to the entire village.  As toddlers and children became teens and adults.  As people aged and grayed and passed.

   Until the Brotherhood reached out with a risk.  A risk of danger and hostility.  A risk of battle and bloodshed.  A risk of pain and uncertainty.  A risk of imprisonment.  A risk of change.

   A risk of ferocious and bloody battles by day, and wounded and torn foundations by night.

   A risk of the Celestial Realm coming down with all their fury, Nezha would be injured, and Chikao being imprisoned.

   And Tongbi denied it.

   Tongbi denied the dream.  Chikao took the risk.

[suninia]

Dragons and flowers

Dragon Sylus x fem!MC/Reader Tags: fluff, dragon sylusss Words: 3.7k (sorry) 𐙚⋆°. I watched Barbie Diamond Castle again recently and thought of this with Sylus after reading lots of dragon Sylus fics muwehe. First long fic, hope everyone will enjoy it <3

Are you going to die?

You probably will.

You sobbed quietly as the harsh air hits your face. One minute ago, you were just happily transporting your fresh produce of flowers to the townhall, now you're 100 feet off the ground, carried like a helpless kitten by the scaly arms of a terrifying 8ft tall man with half draconic features. 

You should've seen it coming from the times you felt like the air seemed to carry something heavy. Something overwhelming. Something that a lone girl living in a small wood cottage by a river cannot simply fight off. You've had lots of close encounters with bears, or even wolves, but this feels different.

This feels like your end.

Yet it never came.

You're always on alert, looking through the woods across the river to see anything, sometimes looking over your shoulder as if a pair of eyes are locked on you all the time but there's nothing. You never caught anything. Not even a mere shadow. Not even when you're wandering in the woods to fetch a few herbs requested to you by the village botanist. There's only ever silence and the strange musk of wild animals in the forest.

Nothing.

"Miss flower! G'morning!"  you looked over the river to see a group of hunters with their weapons about to enter the forest for their hunt. You stood up from tending to your garden to approach them wearing a friendly smile.

'Miss flower'. You've made a name for yourself from supplying such good batches of unique and beautiful flowers that adorns the humble homes of your small village. You set up shop every few weeks in the town’s market to deliver fresh flowers to the hardworking housewives and young ladies who ordered them. You even sell special mixes of perfume pouches and floral essential oils which are quite popular to both married and unmarried women.

Although simple, seeing their smiles really makes all the sleepless nights and fighting for your life against terrible storms all worth it.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Early hunt today?"

"Yup! Gotta feed the village y'know. Seen anything lately?"

"Well, aside from the usual animals I feed here then everything else is up to you."

"Ones you marked, right? Aightie, we'll drop by for some sandwiches earlier in exchange for a whole deer, how ‘bout that?" a younger man among them blurted out. The rest of the seemingly older men nudged him in a teasing manner, you just smiled.

"I'll make sure to prepare some!"

You went inside your cottage to make some sandwiches for the hunters’ return later for lunch. You pan-fried some dried meat and eggs, topped it with some fresh vegetables from your garden and some mayo you recently made. You smiled from your hard work and slowly placed them inside your picnic basket when you heard a loud thud from outside your house.

The hunters are back so fast?

Washing your hands and finishing the basket with some of the fresh fruits you sliced earlier, you head over to your door to feed your guests but all you’re met with were field of flowers and your long rows of fresh vegetables. Thinking it’s just some lost animal, you sighed and was about to turn around when your gaze fell downwards, only to gasp from the sight of a dead deer lying on your porch. It looks big and mature, fur all shiny and silky. It's like something you'll get as a first prize for the annual village hunting competition or an offering to the mountain gods. You looked around to see if any of the men were around. No, only silence. The usual silence.

Chills went down your spine.

Who delivered this to your front door?

As the hunters returned, they confusingly looked at the deer that was supposed to be their catch that very afternoon but it mysteriously disappeared. They still managed to hunt a few animals, however, so their trip was not in vain. They offered to butcher the deer in house but you shyly refused, not really good with blood or slaughter. They came back to share a most of the portions back to you the next day so you made a nice roast for them as a gift, then they went on their way.

You wondered how that deer ended up dead on your front porch… but decided to brush it off. It’ll only spawn unwanted thoughts that you’ve been desperately avoiding and that is something you’ve decided to do religiously given your circumstances of living alone.

And once again, peace conquered your small cottage in the woods.

A few days had passed when you observed that your stock of firewood wouldn’t last for more than a week. You admit that you were not the strongest woman out there to chop a big tree by yourself but you try anyway, it's hard to commission lumberjacks to do it for you sometimes because the festival had them busy in the town square so this is a matter to be solved by your own hands this time. You grabbed your axe and a few pieces of rope from the shed and went on your way.

"Awe, here to accompany me today?"

It was one of the deers that you marked. You had saved this little one not too long ago after his mother was hunted and injured by other wild animals, dying shortly after in your peaceful garden which you took the responsibility of letting it rest within the quiet hug of your fresh flowers. You always strive to nurture life while respecting its natural cycle, but perhaps… a little touch of humanity will let your heart rest a little peacefully. Even just a little.

You finally found small trees that are okay to be harvested but you always make sure to plant new ones as a trade. After chopping down a few to nice pieces and tying them up with the rope so you can easily carry the pile on your back, you proceeded to pick up some firewood scattered along the ground on your way back to your cottage. The cute deer helped you out sometimes, bringing you pieces of wood with its mouth which earned him pieces of food and lots of headpats. 

You failed to notice dusk approaching until the fiery colors peeking through the tall trees and the howling of wolves from afar caught your attention. You instructed the deer to quickly hide in the hiding spot you made for it a while back then sprinted yourself. Biting your lip, you were afraid that you had wandered too far and possibly…

No. No such thoughts.

Along with your light footsteps, heavier and faster legs surrounded you in no time making your heart beat erratically. 

Lucky gods, you were independent but athletically incapable at times. In panic, you tripped over a rock that made you fall face flat into a pile of leaves. You heard growling and the footsteps getting closer just as you're about to get up which made you freeze. You closed your eyes, whether in acceptance of your end or in hopes that the playing dead tactic will work on wolves too… you're not quite certain.

You silently prayed to whichever God is listening out there to at least let you live for another day. Quietly sobbing, this isn't how you planned to go, but is the world that merciful?

Tap. Tap. Tap. In large numbers, four legged creatures circled around you howling in a choir. You bit your lip and held back a sob by capturing your mouth with your palm, wishing that this quiet response will trick these predators from pouncing on their prey.

Closer… closer… and closer. Growling a few feet away from your legs. Sniffing your heels and your basket of wood until they stepped back, preparing to lunge to finally feast on their meal.

Gods. Please.

Save me.

As if the heavens actually listened to your pleas, the wolves stopped their attempts to attack in almost an instant. Chills ran down your spine when you felt this overwhelming energy once again. This familiar heaviness and bloodlust in the air. The strange movement of the wind and the ominous swaying of leaves and branches, this unexplainable ringing of danger in your head… it’s a warning you absolutely cannot ignore.

Something far more dangerous appeared before you... and it wasn't heaven's.

Your heartbeat stopped upon hearing a much deeper, raspier, and mature voice that growled right behind you. It was terrifying. It was territorial. It was overpowering. It made those wolves’ cries sound like that of a 1-month-old puppy. Every heavy footstep the monster made had you counting your remaining seconds of life on this planet. You didn't know what to do other than to write your own elegy inside of your head as the first and only guest to your own funeral.

You closed your eyes shut in silent surrender when you felt something sharp crawl along your spine that made you shiver, reaching for the strands of your hair on your face and gently pulling it. As if it’s checking if you’re alive, you didn’t notice that you’re already holding your breath in suspense, fear crawling into your skin as the last of your days were cut short into ten seconds… nine… eight… seven…

Until you finished counting to one while waiting for the grim reaper to pull your leg towards the afterlife… realization hit you that you were not dead.

Death didn’t come for your soul.

No pain, no suffering.

Just silence.

You raised your head and turned to look around, mouth dry and unable mutter words, your cheeks warm with rivers of your tears, hands and feet bleeding from blisters and scratches as a result of your fall, and breaths slowly returning to your lungs after nearly suffocating yourself. No matter how ruined you looked, the fact that you weren’t mauled to death by a pack of wolves was evident.

Around you were nothing but silence. No wolves, no big scary monsters, not even the small noise of birds and crickets...

Only the quiet trees, the soothing air, and bright moon that came to light up your way.

You were spared from death.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"No!" you exhaled loudly, seemingly frustrated while telling your friend Tara what happened that evening. She wouldn't believe you! What is there not to believe?!

"You wouldn't be here if you encountered man-eating wolves."

"Exactly!" you let out an exasperated sigh and leaned on the table lazily, looking at your reflection on the glass of orange juice in front of you when the long ribbon on your hair smoothly fell to your palm.

That encounter was weird… but what was more unusual was you discovering your scattered firewood neatly piled up and tied with red silk on your front porch when you woke up this morning. You got it checked earlier by the seamstress and they claimed that it was one of the expensive silks that’s only woven by rare materials found in the eastern regions. You ended up getting it sewn into a ribbon and wore it, can’t tell if you should be scared or thankful to whoever delivered your wood back to your house.

She pouted, reaching for both of your cheeks to stretch it.

"You need sleep, darling. Thank you for the flowers for this year's festival. You deserve the rest. Also, never go out at night again on your own!"

You walked back home with your empty wooden cart and a bag of coins that the town gave you as payment after supplying a ton of flowers for the upcoming festival. You don't know how to explain what happened to you last night because you didn't see much either out of fear.

But it happened. Terrifyingly so.

You heaved a heavy sigh and opened your gate as you arrived back to your house only to be greeted by a big tree lodged into half of your garden where your precious flowers are planted. 

You froze on the spot, eyes blinking, mind blank as paper at what you’re seeing. The tree is bigger than your house, enough to block the whole river and certainly enough to knock your home down like a pile of rocks.

You ran towards your garden, tears welling around your eyes at the sight of your poppies, lilies, and hydrangeas crushed by the sheer weight of a 500-year-old load of wood. Your legs weakened like jelly, collapsing to the ground with utter disbelief. 

"My flowers..."

It was heartbreaking, truly.

The wind blew harshly; a silhouette of a flying object flew over you for a split second before a heavy thud and cracking of dirt rang from your back but you didn’t even bother to look at what it was. Your eyes blurred, warm tears staining the dirt as each drop slid along the beautiful petals of your white lilies. Your heart felt like it was being torn into pieces, hands trembling as you caressed the leaves of your once healthy buds that bloomed beautifully under your attentive and utmost care.

Why do these things keep happening to you?

From your sorrow, you momentarily forgot the thing that landed in your garden until fast approaching footsteps rushed towards you, mists of red and black danced around your figure in a fluid motion before a sharp claw captured your chin and gently pulled your head to turn to the side.

Your mouth parted at the sight of a large man… with horns as sharp as blades, scales in the color of charcoal, red piercing eyes that reminds you or rubies, plush lips and soft cupid bow pressing into a think line, and eyebrows knitting together. As if he was frowning… or disappointed? enraged? You’re not certain. His sharp teeth gritted; growls laced with a tremendous amount of savageness that poisoned your heart with fear.

"You are crying." he mumbled, voice breathless, jaw tightening and growing more and more dangerous by the second.

You didn't expect him to speak but you didn't reply either, feeling your chest heavy and your breaths slowly escaping your lungs. He muttered a few words in a language you don’t understand before growling once more. You noticed a sharp and scaly object, moving slowly towards you like a snake. It reached for your face which made you close your eyes, only opening one of them when you heard a deep sigh from the person in front of you. The snake like limb of some sorts was holding your hair up from blocking your face, giving him a clear vision of your flushed cheeks that’s stained with tears.

It's a dragon. A dragon in form of a man crouching right in front of you.

"Was the tree not enough? Do you need a bigger one? Or five more? Tell me what it is that you need. I'm strong. I can get it for you."

His increasing frustration strikes fear into your heart. You let out a soft sob and covered your face in fear that this will trigger this creature into harming you. What will you do now? Who is this? What is this? What does he want? Did he put this tree here in hopes to destroy your house but missed the target? Or did he hope you were there to be crushed by it?

And why is he asking you questions like that?

"My flowers..."

It was your only form of salvation in that fearful moment. The flowers you held so dearly. The ones you've been tirelessly cultivating over the past few months… gone. Just like that.

The dragon's ruby eyes turned to the large tree and noticed the flower beds ruined under it. He stiffened, face met with horror and anger upon the realization of his mistake.

He cursed and turned to you again, gaze sharper than newly polished swords. 

That’s it. If you're going to die, at least let you die beside your flowers!

The dragon stretched its wings and grabbed a hold of your waist to pull you upwards in a gentle manner using the same scaly limb that was brushing your hair a few moments ago, which you finally figured out was his tail. Your mouth let out a small cry for help and shrieked when he crouched a bit before stepping back to gain momentum and eventually darted high up in the air carrying you in his arms.

This is the end for you, right?

You closed your eyes in anticipation, prepared to get dropped immediately. But while your eyes are getting disturbed by the large force of the wind that’s making you lose your focus and drying your tears in an instant, the dragon’s large claws lightly covered your face… as if shielding you from the wind’s assault.

You blinked your eyes when it suddenly went quiet and you felt like you were slowly descending. You shook your head to clear your mind a bit before looking ahead, meeting a solemn view of a large field of flowers running towards the horizon. It’s a place that you've never seen before. It was beautiful. It was like a dream. A dream you never knew you can witness with your very eyes like this.

The dragon settled you carefully into the bed of flowers, the sweet scent of the fresh variety of flowers rushing to your nose as you took in a deep breath. Gentle petals brushed against your skin like a gentle greeting, their pollen dancing around you as acknowledgement and announcement of their divine presence. They scattered in the wind like confetti, colors shimmering against the blinding sunlight, almost sparking like stars in the night sky.

You were in awe. Completely pulled away from the agony you were in earlier, heart now filled with gentle joy and fascination.

"Your flowers... I don’t know how to properly ask for forgiveness, I did not mean for that to happen either. Still, I hope I'll earn to be forgiven."

You turned to the dragon that’s now sitting beside you with wings half folded, forgetting that you were basically taken by a dragon that you’ve only heard of in the legends, heavy scales and leather armor draped across the flower bed providing it with a nice shade, silver hair glistened like snow against the bleeding sunset and tail squirming behind him, wagging in quick, graceful motions… reminding you of a happy puppy’s. The red gem on his chest reflected rainbows into his eyes. Sharp, brilliant, enchanting, and oh so beautiful.

"You needed wood so I gave you the biggest one I could find. I did not mean to destroy your nest."

My nest?

"I should've stuck with the deer."

Deer?

"What…?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I am attempting to court you."

Your jaw dropped, hands quickly covering your mouth in shock. Your eyes stayed on him. His eyes burning through you with a fierce, sincere, and surprisingly honest intention. 

"M-Me?"

He nodded and held out his hand which you hesitantly took, but did anyway when he waited for you to take his offer or maybe reject him. His eyes looked shocked for a moment when your palm pressed on his rough talons but quickly brushed it off and led you to sit beside him, looking away for a second to wipe his cheek.

"While I don't know how to properly court someone. I would like to try." He muttered earnestly that left you in awe. He searched for something inside his robes and brought it out. His sharp claws pointed to your hand so you hesitantly held it out and yelped from the heavy bag that was placed on your palm. It was small, but really bulky. You looked back up at him, noticing how much you need to crane your head upwards to meet his eyes from your obvious height difference before tilting your head a bit in confusion.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

You gulped before pulling the string and let the pouch's mouth open to reveal shiny pieces of gold ingots trapped inside the fancy pouch. You let out a gasp and quickly turned to him.

"Why are you giving this to me? Don't dragons never share their hoards? I can't accept this..."

"Not to their mates." he gasped for air. "Never to you."

"Why?” you sniffed, thumbs circling on the shiny glare of the pure gold in your palm that you can only dream of having. “But… I’m a human?"

"I do what I want." he stated so firmly that it almost startled you. He clenched his fist. Whispering gentle reminders to himself that you cannot comprehend but it effectively made him calm down.

"You have a soul that I am... inexplicably attracted to and I would love to have you with me. But if you refuse, then I will do as I'm told. As long as you’ll allow it, I would like to be your mate."

"And this..." his tail reached for another thing from his robes and carried another pouch by its string, dropping it towards your palms. You were so overwhelmed with gifts, but he doesn’t look like he’s willing to let you return it.

You opened it and saw a bunch of seeds inside that look like crystals. Once again, you were filled with confusion.

"I've been meaning to give this to you when I saw your garden empty back when the trees were dying. It makes your soil nourished. Fast and abundant. Good for harvest. Take it along with the gold as compensation and gift for the damage I did."

“Been meaning to? Since when?”

“Since last winter.”

“So not that long ago...” that’s a relief.

“No. Last winter. When you first planted your white flowers.”

“You mean last year?!” your eyes widened. He pursed his lips and held his chin in thought, slightly shaking his head.

“I don't have the paper with numbers you humans use.”

“A-And you only approached me now?”

“I wasn't proud of my hoard. My den wasn't warm enough for humans. I couldn't speak in straight human sentences before I read a human book. I wasn't good then, but…” he grinned, his sharp fangs poked out from his plump lips. “I can say I have more than a lot to offer if you're willing to see for yourself.”

“So… you planned all of this…”

“Not this. Never to make you shed tears.” he shook his head.

“Not fear. Never fear.” he gasped, collecting himself first. “I wanted to see how delicately you look at your flowers up close. How your laughs sound like gentle wind chimes when you're with other humans. How your embrace must feel like the warmth of home. How your fingers must feel taste like solace. How your eyes must glisten like shiny coins when you’re full of happiness.” he drew his breath and nodded his head, exhaling loudly before his sharp pupils dilated while reflecting your face.

As if you’re all he sees. As if you’re everything he ever wanted.

“I want it. I want all of it to be mine. I want it to be given to me willingly. Happily. Freely.” he growled and leaned closer, holding your chin with utter softness. You felt like he was taking your breath away as he inched closer to press your forehead against his. 

Like a mortal praying to his saint.

Your fears from earlier quickly dissipated from this simple declaration, hoping the flowers sent it along the wind with a sweet goodbye. You have never seen anyone look at you like this… with so much devotion, raw passion, and intense desire to prove that he’s worthy of your hand. 

It sent you to the clouds. How can a man of another species make your heart feel like it’s going to burst when no other human person could? 

It made you think. All of the efforts he made that you perceived as ‘terrifying’ was his innocent attempt to catch your interest all along. The deer, the tree… so the wolves must be…

“Was it you… when I was almost attacked… and my firewood?”

“You were scared. I didn’t know if it was a good time to introduce myself. It wasn’t. I gave you a big tree to last you a while so you wouldn’t go out in the woods on your own. And if you run out, I’ll get you a new one again. I’m strong. And…” the wind suddenly blew that made your hair sway. His eyes locked on the ribbon tied to your hair, mouth parting as his claws caught it. He closed his eyes momentarily, letting the silence sink in before opening them again, eyes now filled with determination.

“If you’ll give me a chance… I will show you that I am a man who can give you everything.”

A man that can give me everything. 

You lied down on the bed of flowers and glanced at him. He signaled to lie down beside you when your eyes met, in which you gave a quiet nod of agreement. He looked uncomfortable, yet he still chose to lay on his side just to level his face with yours, his own eyes hiding an intense feeling of love and admiration.

A dragon’s love, huh? 

You didn’t know fiends can be affectionate like this. But isn’t his existence enough to prove that?

Although sudden, it felt strangely warm to be the receiving end of someone's passion like this. You know how easy it is for him to harm you, but he only ever touches you with pure fondness, silently hoping his sincerity will reach you somehow.

And it did. In the most surprising way.

You took a deep sigh and reached for a single flower in between your noses, inching closer to pick it and display it on the dragon’s delicate silver hair, moving gently along the whistling wind. 

You spoke out your name, your real one, only for his ears to hear. You grabbed two more flowers and planted it on the hard scales right on his left chest where a human heart would usually be.

“Flowers are my most favorite thing in the world. Nice to meet you…” you closed your eyes when your noses touched, breaths playing along the red of each other’s lips, still etched with a gentle smile.

“Sylus.” he whispered, seemingly losing air to breathe. “Your Sylus.”

You’re still quite unsure with this strange proposal… but looking at this being in front of you that’s ready to surrender his possessions just so you’ll stay beside him, maybe it won’t harm to see for yourself.

And maybe you’d like to learn more about him too.

“And you’re my most favorite thing in the world.”

[titaniasfairy]

heard you, saw you, felt you

summary: you hate working closing shifts, but when a strange man stops by for a drink, you have no choice but to say yes.

a/n: hi y'all! here's what i wrote for the waitress!reader prompt i posted a few days ago, this is the longest and filthiest thing i've written period. thank you so much @spikedfearn for beta reading this for me! mwah enjoy <3

18+ MDNI

pairing: remmick x female!reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: dub-con!! reader hates her job lowkey, remmick is a FREAK, obsession, manipulation, vampire stuff y'know, biting, blood sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, creampie, reader blacks out.

closing shifts were the worst. you loved opening shift, spending your shift with the early birds who had fresh smiles and always greeted you with a grinning “good morning” was always your favorite way to start the day. you’d get out around 4:00 pm, leaving the diner to be handled by whatever poor soul was working the dinner shift. on a good day, you’d leave with a couple of dimes jingling in your apron and plenty of guest receipts that had little notes like “have a good day!” or “thank you for breakfast” written on them. you could still stop into town if you needed anything at home, the sun still shining high in the sky beaming down on the townsfolk in the streets. you’d get home at a reasonable hour, just in time to make supper for yourself. at most nice of all, you’d be in bed at a decent hour with plenty of time to sleep before the morning comes. 

you didn’t have those luxuries when you worked closing shifts. 

when you’d seen the weekly diner schedule shortly after it’d been posted, your lips had shifted from a upward grin to a complete scowl. despite having begged your manager to keep you on opening shifts, you had still been assigned a closing shift, on a saturday night, even better. closing shifts always began while the diner was jam-packed full of patrons. people slumped on barstools, people huddled around tables, people shoved in booths like sardines, and people loitering around outside with lit cigarettes hanging from their mouths. the smell was abhorrent and always made your clothes smell like burnt tobacco before you even punched the clock. when you’d arrive, someone would always greet you with a “thank god you’re here” or “where the hell have you been?” despite you being on time. your feet would end up aching around the second hour of your shift from the constant back and forth from the kitchen to the diner, your wrist would be throbbing from writing countless orders, and your ears would be ringing just from how loud everything was. 

it would only start to improve by the time the sun had long gone down, around 9 or 10 o’clock. by then, the kitchen would be closed and the only diners left would be just about finished with their meals. all the other waitresses would head home, leaving you to finish the closing tasks. you’d spend the rest of your shift wiping down tables, polishing silverware, and mopping the floors before you left and locked all the doors. though you originally hated cleaning the restaurant, you found it calming to end the night with such a silent task. sometimes you’d hum or sing to yourself just to pass the time while you swept the floors. the walk home was the worst part, your legs ached and your eyes struggling to stay open while you hobbled home. you’d rely on streetlights to illuminate your way until you made your way to the dirt roads where you’d use the fireflies as guidance. eventually, you’d finally get in your door just to pass out as soon as your back hit the mattress. god forbid you had an opening shift the next day.

tonight’s closing shift was no different than your expectations. 

you arrived around 6:00 pm after walking through the dense clouds of gray cigarette smoke, staining your clothes with the stench. you couldn’t even set your things down before another server approached you with the usual “finally, we’re swamped out there.” conversation. you punched your time card in and smoothed out your apron with your hands, making sure to get out any creases or wrinkles that anyone would notice. you checked inside the apron for your pencil and writing pad before going out into the dining room. and like always, you were swamped. diners lined the bar with their hunched over frames, chowing down on whatever special was available that night. people were stuffed in booths, their shoulders rubbing together each time they moved their fork. the section assigned to you was already filled with patrons eager to get their order taken, they’d already resorted to snapping at you to get your attention. during morning shifts, you were always called by a “excuse me miss” or “pardon me”, but when the sun went down it seemed people had forgotten about pleasantries. your night continued with you taking orders and running food, refilling drinks, handing out checks, and cleaning up the messes people left when they got their receipt and change back. your table’s must’ve been stingy, because you were only left with a nickel or two once everyone had staggered out. 

after what seemed like a never-ending rush, the diner was finally empty. your co-workers had left as soon as they could, abandoning any opportunity to help you with the side-work that needed to be done. you were completely worn out from the dinner rush. your hair, which was neatly tied up when you came in, had now fallen out of place and stuck out in places where it shouldn’t have. your uniform was colored in a myriad of stains ranging from food, drinks, and grease. sweat had dried on the back of your neck, your forehead, and various other places, leaving you to feel just plain gross. your feet felt as if you had just ran a marathon, aching from holding yourself up all shift. you didn’t even give yourself the blessing of a break since it was so busy throughout the diner, leaving for 15 minutes would have only made things worse. 

the sun had been replaced with a bright full moon, illuminating the outside and shining through the windows of the diner. you had finished polishing the silverware and sorting them in the back, leaving you with only sweeping and mopping to do. like usual, you broke the eerie silence throughout the restaurant by singing to yourself. you never sang too loud, just enough so you could hear yourself sing along to a familiar tune. you drowned out the sound of the mop squelching on the floor with a melody you learned from your mother long ago, back when she’d sing to herself when hanging up the laundry. those songs would always find a way to cheer you up, no matter how exhausting the night was. the crickets outside acted as your back-up singers, chirping along to a rhythm you couldn’t pick up on. 

before you knew it, the entire floor had been mopped. you put the mop back in the closet, then grabbed the bucket of dirty water to dump into the sink in the back. after ensuring that everything else was put in its right place and cleaned up properly in the kitchen, you grabbed your things and locked the back door before punching the clock. you made sure to shut the kitchen light off as you walked out into the diner. but as you scanned the restaurant one last time, something was off. the crickets had stopped chirping and the silence left in the room wasn’t something that could be remedied with a song. it wasn’t until you looked out the window that you saw him. 

a man, standing outside the diner with his back to the glass window that spanned across the dining room. his hands were tucked in his pockets with his head turned down to the ground, like he was praying for something. his clothes weren’t pristine and spotless, but they weren’t tattered and soiled either, they just looked worn. a set of suspenders crossed against his bag and held up a pair of dark trousers. the shirt on his back looked to be just a bit too large for him, definitely not tailored for the man. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows on arms that looked to be a smidge too pale for the month of june, especially in the mississippi delta. you shrugged it off and told yourself it was just the moonlight playing tricks on you. you felt as if he was waiting on the door to open, his frame was leaning on the window and he kept looking to his side to see if anyone was there. you figured he was waiting on you, so you made your way across the diner to open the door, making the bells on it ring out. the man immediately turned to look at you, like it was reflex. a smile was spread across his face, revealing his not-so-perfect teeth. 

“can i help you, sir?” your voice was just low enough to hear. the man’s eyes flickered up and down, looking at the state of your stained apron and dress. he inhaled what sounded like a chuckled before replying, “that was a beautiful song you were singing in there.”. your brows furrowed in confusion. how could he hear you in there? perhaps you were louder than you thought. still, you were flattered, you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks. 

you weren’t able to get a good look at his face until you opened the door, you were delighted to find the man quite handsome. he looked to be about your age, if not older. his eyes were soft but his face looked like it’d seen years of hard labor, his features littered with small scars and marks from god knows what. shadows fell across his brow bone, leaving his eyes dark with no distinguishable color to his irises. his smile felt human, his teeth not aligned like someone wealthy, with a few overlapping each other. you were too busy admiring him to notice that you didn’t respond, making your entire face warm, now. 

“t-thank you! my mama used to sing it all the time.” you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like a enamored schoolgirl would, embarrassing yourself even more. the man turned his head to side, cocking it while he looked at you, making you stumble on your words. “can i help you with anything? it’s awfully late.” you looked up at him while you spoke, he wasn’t much taller than you. “well..” he looked at your name tag safety pinned to your uniform, the back up to you. his accent was thick but sweet like honey, it didn’t sound like he was from the delta, but he was certainly from somewhere down south. your name fell from his lips, hanging from them like vines. the air was stagnant until he opened his mouth again. “i just finished my shift at the construction site and i am mighty thirsty, sugar.” he licked his lips while he awaited a response from you. 

you looked back into the diner, still lit by the overhead lights hanging from the ceiling. technically you were closed, and you’d have to charge him for something like a sweet tea or lemonade, but you doubted he’d turn down water. you looked back outside to discover the man had moved closer, you gave him another look. “i ain’t ever seen you before.” you weren’t suspicious, just curious. you were used to the people who came around at night, the same people who carry flasks in their pockets and don’t tip unless you flirt. he didn’t seem like them, though. “i don’t come around much. i just want to sit down for a bit, is that too much to ask?” you considered saying no, that your manager would throw you through the ringer if you let someone in after hours, let alone a stranger. but he did look thirsty, you couldn’t count the amount of times his tongue ran across his lips. he stared at the diner like it was an oasis in the desert, like if he closed his eyes too long he’d find it gone when he opened them. “i don’t suppose why not. c'mon in, i’ll get you something.” his face was beaming before you could finish your sentence. he held the door for you as you walked in, you wondered to yourself if he was always such a gentleman. he found his way to the bar and sat down on one of the stools as you walked behind the bar. “i don’t usually do this, y’know.” you said while looking at him across from you. he had his elbows resting on the wood, his body leaning in towards you. on his neck sat an iron chain, slightly rusted from age. it caught the light when he moved, shining in one place then another when his neck turned. he kept that toothy grin of his as he responded, “well i’m certainly grateful,” he said your name again like he’d known you for awhile, not just for a few moments. “you know my name but i don’t know your’s.” his eyebrows were raised as you spoke, intently listening to whatever you had to say. 

“remmick” 

he spoke it like he wasn’t proud of it. his eyes shifted down to the wood, averting his gaze from your eyes. you titled your head a bit, you’d never heard that name before. it sounded almost ancient, foreign to you in a way. “i ain’t ever heard that name before, you from around here?” he chuckled at your confusion and looked back up at you, his blue eyes now clear as day in the diner’s bright lighting. “you sure do ask a lot of questions, darlin’” remmick’s hands were clasped in front of him, his interlaced fingers were thick and his nails were short and worn down. your cheeks warmed up again, making you smile in embarrassment. “well i don’t want to serve a stranger, you could be dangerous.” you grabbed a glass from behind the bar and polished it with a nearby rag. remmick licked his lips again, smirking at you. you couldn’t fight the butterflies flying in your stomach as his eyes raked over you once more, like he was eyeing a meal. “but you let one in?” 

he ran the back of his hand over his mouth after he said it, wiping a string of drool off his lips that you didn’t see. “there’s a first time for everything.” you looked around, then remembered the icebox was off. you’d have to wait at least 10 minutes if he wanted ice. “i don’t have any ice…” the sentence hung from your lips as your mind wandered off. “i don’t need it sweetheart, i’d just about drink anything right now.” you gave him a nod before walking to the nearby sink and turning on the tap. you filled the glass up before turning the handle and pouring out the excess water from the class. 

“i can’t thank you enough, sugar.” he told you as you made your way around the bar. you set the glass down on the wood before sitting yourself at the barstool next to remmick. his hand wrapped around the glass and raised it to his lips, taking one short sip. for someone who just said they were near death from dehydration, he wasn’t very eager to drink the water. you shrugged it off and took a closer look at his clothes. his dress shirt was opened up a few buttons, revealing a white wife-beater underneath. they looked aged, but not quite as worn down as you’d expect. 

“you never did tell me where you were from.” his eyes were trained on you, almost locked on your lips as you spoke. his other hand sat resting on his knee, his fingers tapping against it every now and then. “i’m from around.” he said, seemingly avoiding the question. his eye’s moved from your lips to somewhere below them, staring at what you assumed to be your necklace. you held the pearl hanging on your neck between two fingers, fiddling it in nervousness. the back of his hand wiped over his mouth again. 

your facial expression changed from curiosity to confusion, brows furrowed and eyes squinted. you looked back to the counter, where the water sat. remmick hadn’t touched the glass you gave him since he took the first sip. you wondered if the well had something to do with it. “that water no good or something?” you looked back at him and saw a new man, one who didn’t look like a man at all. his once blue irises were now a dark crimson, hiding beneath his black lashes. he gave you that toothy grin you’d noticed when opened the door, but his teeth had been replaced with jagged daggers, his canines now sharp like fangs. 

“i think we both know that’s not what i wanted.” 

your breath hitched, the air from your lungs suddenly disappeared and left you speechless. you tried to respond but were only able to let out a squeak. remmick rose from the barstool and stepped towards you, almost towering over you now. he brought a long clawed finger up to your mouth, shushing you. “aw, it’ll be alright, sweetheart. don’t cry.” his voice was rasped and low, the frequency vibrating through you. your vision began to blur with tears, making you squeeze your eyes shut in fear. he brought another finger to your cheeks to wipe the salty streams that had begun to fall from your eyes. 

“i knew i had to have you. from the moment i heard that pretty voice i knew what i had to do.” his lips were on your ear, his voice paralyzing you in place. he kept one hand cupping your cheek and one holding your waist, gripping the apron you’d had on all night along with your plump flesh. you found the courage to speak again, your voice only a weak whisper, “what are you?” remmick let out a low chuckle and you could feel his smile on your face.

 “your savior.” 

you gasped when his lips began to kiss your jaw, making their way down to your exposed neck. “i know just how miserable you are, sugar. you don’t do nothing but work all day and night just for a couple of dimes and nickels. nobody ever thanks you, either. you practically run this place yourself but you don’t have anything to show for it. isn’t that right, darlin’?” his breathing sent shivers down your spine, his words festering in your head. 

he was right. you work your ass off nearly everyday to keep the diner afloat but you hadn’t received a promotion in years. your co-workers rely on you to keep things steady but don’t have the decency to offer any help. 

“you go home miserable and lonely, no husband at home and no kids to feed. all the other girls your age are married off by now and got litters of young-ins, don’t they?” 

more tears fell from your eyes, you’d always dreamed of having a family just like you did growing up. but no man was ever willing to give you the time of day, not when you came home smelling like grease and coffee. your heart panged in your chest, still pumping fast from sheer adrenaline. you shook your head, but you knew there was no point in denying him. 

“i can take you away from all this pain. give you a life you always wanted, doesn’t that sound sweet, sugar?” 

you sobbed in remmick’s arms as he continued to kiss down your neck. you tried to ignore the way your thighs clenched each time his tongue touched your flesh, but it wasn’t worth trying. you leaned into his touch, back arching into each kiss and lick he laid on your skin. 

“i chose you to be mine, and i met you there, and you invited me in.” 

a small moan left your lips before you felt it. his lips enclosed on your neck and kissed the flesh before remmick widened his mouth and bit into you like a ripe georgia peach. you felt the pressure of it first, your head lolling back and screaming out in pain. after a few seconds you felt the fangs retract, allowing him to take from you what he wanted all along. he sucked in your gushing blood like a man starved, tongue flicking over the bite wound and making you squirm in his hold. you felt the rush of blood loss run through you, making your vision flood with black spots. you squeezed your eyes shut and anticipated the worst, but once remmick’s lips left your neck, you experienced euphoria. 

an invisible weight lifted from your aching shoulders, your lungs let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding or how long you were keeping it in. after a few moments you opened your eyes and laid eyes on the monster you’d devoted yourself to. the lower half of his face was smeared with your blood, his nectar. you couldn’t deny the sudden pull he had on you, his gaze making your cunt quiver. 

remmick’s bloodied lips were on yours before you knew it, his kiss almost bruising. his hands cupped your face while yours tangled in his locks. your tongues slid over each other’s, interwoven in a soul binding kiss that felt like heaven on earth. your blood had smeared onto your face, marking you as forever his. as you leaned into the kiss, you could feel remmick’s hands slip behind your back and untie the apron you’d been wearing, discarding it to the floor once it fell into his grasp. his hands fell to you hips and pushed lightly, causing your back to hit the wood of the barstool, pinning you there. your chest heaved like a panting dog as his sharp claws played with the hem of your dress, his forehead pressed up against yours as he breathed life into your mouth. after a few moments, remmick’s fingers pushed your dress back to bunch it at your hips, revealing your plump thighs to him. 

before you knew it, he was on his knees below you. he took his time admiring your legs, holding one with both hands, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your calf and ending at the tops of your thighs, then switching to the other. it was hauntingly romantic. your mouth couldn’t stop the small whimpers that left you each time his lips found the places that left goosebumps on you when kissed, his eyes would shoot up to meet your’s with each sound that left you in a desperate need of approval. his lips left the top of your thigh and his hands landed under the backs of your knees, holding them to your chest. he gasped when he saw them, your cotton panties that had stuck to your heat and the darkened wet patch that sat just where your opening was. remmick’s nose pressed against the cloth, breathing you in and surrounding himself in nothing but you. it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench. in what could only be impatience, a razor sharp claw sawed its way through your panties, cutting them from your body and finding themselves somewhere on the floor along with your apron. you gasped in a strange mixture of arousal and fear, the sound coming out of you like a wanton moan. once your cunt had been revealed, his eyes were glued to watching it react to its new surroundings. he even blew a stream of air on it to watch you jump. he let out a dark chuckle, grinning to himself. 

“i heard you, i saw you, felt you. and now, i’m going to give you the gift of belonging.” 

you batted your lashes down at him, now holding your legs apart for him. remmick’s dark eyes stared back up at you, two dark voids filled with only god knows what, but you didn’t care anymore. god be damned if he’s a monster, he’s the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. you nodded your head to tell him you were ready, even though remmick knew he didn’t need your permission anymore. he left a small kiss to the top of your clit before devouring you. his tongue ran its way over the seam of your cunt, then his lips began to suck. it was bliss you couldn’t have even imagined, your back arching off the seat and the butterflies in your stomach beginning to swarm. his tongue lapped up your arousal like it was his god-given right to, slurping up each drop you could possibly give to him. remmick moaned into your folds, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your body. his lips moved to suck your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves with his tongue every so often. while his mouth was occupied with the top of your heat, two fingers made their way to your opening, pressing into your entrance. 

“taste like heaven, sugar. i’m gonna have so much fun with you.” 

the quiet diner on the downtown street was suddenly filled with the most sinful of sounds, a filthy combination of moans and whimpers. remmick’s fingers had made their way inside you, thrusting at a slow, but moderate, pace. your own fingers were interlaced in the dark strands of his hair that had begun to mat from his own sweat. you ground your hips into his open mouth, making him groan out in satisfaction. you felt his fingers hitting the sweet spot you’d only felt with your own, the feeling even more intense along with his lips lapping over your folds. 

your cunt clenched tight, and remmick knew your orgasm with approaching, making him more ravenous than before. his movements became calculated, he was laser-focused on making you reach your climax. your breathing became labored, chest moving up and down with each breath. the coil in your stomach tightened, your body tensed up and awaited his approval. 

“now give me what i need, sweet girl.”

a flood of emotions washed over you, a wave of euphoria hit you like a strike of lightning and your cunt was gushing before you knew it. remmick discarded his fingers from your hole and used his tongue over your entrance as you rode out your orgasm. underneath the blissful wailing from your mouth, you could hear him moaning against your heat, breathing you in his lungs. when the flood had subsided, he came up for air and rose from his knees. remmick’s mouth that was previously covered in your blood was now wiped clean, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. your chest throbbed with adoration, your head only filled with thoughts of him. his hands cupped your face again, noses touching and foreheads pressed against each other. you closed your eyes and brought yourself down to earth, his thumbs caressing the underside of your job. remmick kissed you softly, the kiss passionate but not hungry. his lips lingered over your’s for a moment before he spoke, “you’re so beautiful” your name leaving his mouth as your eyes closed. never in your life did you feel so wanted. 

you raised your lips to his as a thank you, hands clutching his face. your tongue ran over his lips, eliciting a moan from the man. your tongue slid into his mouth and explored, running it over the backs of his fangs and the roof of his mouth. he groaned into the kiss, hands sliding down to hold your waist. as the kiss began to heat up, remmick pulled away and flipped you around, bending you over the barstool. 

“fuck, babydoll.” his hands ran down the sides of your waist and across the mound of your ass, squeezing the flesh just for a moment. his claws ran over the sides of your hips, scratching lightly and sending goosebumps down your spine. you let out a sigh of relief when you felt his groin press against you, the hard bulge placed on your entrance. you pressed your hips against him, meeting him in the middle. you whined at the sudden loss of feeling, but your thighs clenched when you heard the clinking of a belt buckle from behind you. “i’m gonna make you really sing now, sugar. make sure the whole world knows my name, baby.” remmick slapped your ass light before pressing the tip of his cock to your opening. he gave you a few moments to adjust before sliding his whole length inside you, filling you until it felt like you were overflowing. 

his cock was thick, most certainly thicker than the two fingers he’d given you earlier. the sheer length of him was enough to make your eyes pop, head snug against your cervix once he bottomed out. you tried to let out a whine, but you were shushed before you could protest. “none of that now, sweetheart. this is what you wanted. i could smell it on you as soon as you opened that door.” when you tried squirming your hips, one large hand pushed them down while another gathered both your wrists and pulled hard, forcing your back to arch to the point where you were almost standing. remmick’s lips pressed against your ear, whispering low in a voice that shook your soul, 

“we are going to make beautiful music together, sugar.”

his hips pulled back and slammed into you, pushing you forward and causing you to wail. his cock bullied itself inside you, the tip hitting your sweet spot with each rough thrust. the angle remmick had you in allowed him to sink himself as deep as he could, sending shocks throughout you and making your head throw back in bliss. your head was empty, only filled with want and obsession. “there we go, use that pretty voice for me.” the hand pressing down on your hips wrapped around your neck, exposing the unbitten side to him. his hips continued to thrust into you with deep and rough strokes. each whimper and moan you let out was awarded with remmick’s own groans, his cock twitching inside you. his lips began to lick and suck on your neck, preparing you for the inevitable. his nose breathed your scent in once more, making your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. 

“i can’t wait to spend eternity with you.” you could only remember the pressure of his fangs puncturing your flesh and the excruciating pain that came afterwards. it wasn’t pulling and intimate like the first bite, it was ravenous and animalistic. you felt remmick’s thrusts stop suddenly and felt warmth begin to fill your cunt before your vision went black.

the next morning, the owner came in to collect the time cards only to find the door wide open and the fresh pool of blood on the floor. it was smeared from the barstool down to the tile, no footprints or handprints to be found. he yelled out in horror and alerted the whole block of a murderer. the cops thought it was a robbery gone wrong, but the cash register was left untouched. once they found out who was closing that night, they came to your doorstep and searched for any sign of you, but you were nowhere to be found. days turned into weeks, and you were put on the “missing, presumed to be dead” list that had gotten longer with each week that passed. but you wouldn’t be dead for a long long time.

[yvesssssssss]

heya, another idea for request 🤭

what would nagumo, seba and shin react when they see their s/o laying unconsciously covered with a pool of blood and turns out they were just too tired to do anything after the fight and it wasnt their blood at all? 😭

False alarm, real heart attacks

(Nagumo, Seba, and Shin)

Sorry it took a while! I’ve been a bit busy, but I really appreciate you waiting. Hope you enjoy it!

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo had seen a lot of disturbing things in his life, but nothing quite made his stomach drop like this. The moment he spotted you on the ground, limp, surrounded by an alarming amount of blood, his usual smirk vanished.

He sprinted over, hands trembling as he turned you onto your back. "Oi, oi, sweetheart, not funny—" His voice wavered. He was pressing down on your shoulder before realizing—

Wait. There weren’t any wounds. The blood was fresh, but—

A groggy groan left your lips. "Mmm… Yoichi?"

Nagumo blinked. "What the hell?"

You barely lifted your head, your energy drained. "Not mine…" You sighed. "Just… tired."

Nagumo stared at you, then at the bodies scattered around. Then back at you. Then back at the blood.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, he let out a breathy laugh, part relieved, part incredulous. "You're unbelievable, y'know that?" He ran a hand through his hair before flopping beside you. "Here I was about to start planning my villain arc."

You managed a tired chuckle. "Sorry… nap first, then explanations."

"Fair, fair." He slung an arm around you, resting his head on yours. "Next time, at least send a text before you traumatize me, alright?"

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki was already sprinting the moment he saw you lying there, unmoving. His breath hitched, his chest tightened, and all he could hear was the pounding of his heart.

"No—no, no, no, no." He slid to his knees, hands hovering over your blood-soaked form. His fingers trembled as he tried to check for wounds, panic clouding his thoughts.

Then he noticed it. Your breathing—still steady. No visible injuries. The blood… wasn't coming from you.

"...What?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Your eyes cracked open, and you blinked up at him sluggishly. "Mafuyu?"

"Do I look like that little gremlin to you?" He snapped, voice shaky. His hands clenched into fists before he exhaled sharply. "What the hell,

Y/N?!"

You let out a tired hum. "Just… tired. Too much fighting."

Natsuki buried his face in his hands, exhaling another shaky breath. "You're gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear."

You patted his knee weakly. "Sorry… love you though."

"...Yeah, yeah." He muttered, cheeks dusted pink. "Just—don't ever pull this again, got it?"

Shin Asakura

The seconf Shin turned the corner and saw you, his heart stopped.

"—Y/N!!"

His mind went blank. No thoughts, just pure panic as he dropped to his knees beside you, hands shaking as he reached out.

He couldn't hear anything. Not the bodies around you, not the wind, not his own rapid heartbeat. He was so focused on trying to sense you, your thoughts, your pain—

Then he caught something.

"Ugh, too much work… can't move. Gonna sleep."

Shin froze.

He blinked, then cautiously placed a hand on your cheek. You stirred slightly.

"You're… alive?" His voice cracked.

"Mm… yeah," you muttered, eyes half-lidded. "Jus' sleepy."

Shin inhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against yours as his whole body sagged in relief. "I hate you so much right now," he mumbled, voice thick with emotion.

You hummed. "Love you too."

"...You are never fighting alone again," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you tightly, blood be damned.

[yurunivo]

Hello! I really love you self aware idea! Can you please make another part? This time Can you focuse more on Mavuika and the Creator!Reader (Gender Neutral),please? (Also om how the other archons and Neuvillete would be trying to search for the reader and maybe using other organizations to help the search) if not please feel free to ignore this. Have a wonderful day!

This is my first time getting a request! Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: hanging out with Mavuika! (And the other nations' planning to reach you) part 1 part 3 part 4

TW: Mavuika and reader's relationship is implied romantic but can be read as platonic, OOC, yandere, SAGAU imposter au, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, not beta read

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader (again can be seen as romantic or platonic), yandere Archons + Neuvillette x reader

Cleaning at bars was a tedious job. It was easy, sure, but it got boring at times. Customers always made the day fun with their gossip, so you leaned into that. It could've been something simple, like how their boyfriend cheated on them, but it was still more entertaining than mopping the floor.

However, there was always one customer every night that you were looking forward to meeting.

Always clad in a mysterious cloak that made them look like a runaway, blazing bright eyes and red hair.

It was Mavuika.

She came a bit later than usual. You decided not to worry, Archon duties are a lot after all. Yet, she came anyway, dressed the same as before. The cloak was a bit messily put on, so her hair was still visible. You sighed as you left the place you were cleaning and went up in front of her.

"You didn't have to come y'know," you fixed her cloak to hide her hair, yet she only smiled at you.

"I insist," she only replied back. You rubbed your temples at the stubborn woman. Seriously, shouldn't she be busy with work or something?

She seemed to be eager to tell you something, considering how she was holding your hand. You raised an eyebrow at her as you gestured her to speak.

"Well, want to combat practice with me later, (fake name)?" Oh no. You didn't know how to fight! Sure, you did fight against the abyss, but you barely managed to survive!

But you only nodded. Declining now would only make her suspicious, even though the fact that you were being chased around without fighting back was suspicious enough. But, you'll find out a reason later, for now, all you had to do was agree.

"Sure, but only at my day off. Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You were trying to find a lie to tell her then, but for now, you hid your feelings with a smile. She nodded, looking content with your answer.

"The day after tomorrow it is."

Your hands were uncomfortably sweaty.

The day after tomorrow being right now, you had to tell Mavuika as quick as you could to not gain suspicion. Telling her you got isekai'd from another world was obviously not an option, but you had already prepared something in your head. It was similar to the isekai idea, but it's much more believable. The execution was the only problem.

You were at the outskirts of the Scions of Canopy, where Kinich lived. She came 5 minutes later and greeted you with much courtesy.

"Hope I didn't make you wait for long (fake name)," she told with a bit embarrassment. You shrugged her off.

"It's fine Mavuika, and you can just call me (name)," you replied back. You mustered up the courage to tell her your reason not to fight. But before that, you had to ask her just this one thing.

"How did you know that I was the creator? I don't think there was any part of me that stood out," you were interested to know, after all you thought that you hid yourself very well.

She all but smiled as she pointed out the grass behind you.

"The creator is connected to Teyvat, so everything would bloom in their wake. Since you were in the nation of Pyro, where I'll know everything that's going on, it was quite easy to find out." You looked behind to see beautiful flowers right behind you. You were shocked to see this many flowers in one trail. Wait, then why did the other Archons not realize that you were the creator? Eh that doesn't really matter, what matters was that you were here with Mavuika, safe and sound. But, you took this revelation to gift her something.

You took a flower from the trail. Mavuika was interested to see what you were doing, but you hid it from her. Using the flowers and leaves, you created a flower crown for her and put it a top her head. You smiled, she did too.

"Thank you (name)," she laughed softly. But now you had to explain the fighting part. You sighed as you contemplated.

"Err, Mavuika, I actually don't know how to fight.." You mumbled and cursed your self for it. She looked surprised.

"Why not?" She asked again. You felt embarrassed for having to say the reason. You took a deep breath and prepares to say why.

"I'm.. Not the creator. Like the original one. I'm a reincarnation of them, I have no idea how to fight not do I know anything about the past," you breathed out, cringing at what you just said. However all she did was look at you with understanding, after all, she knows the pain of reincarnation.

"It's fine! But do you know anything about the previous creator then?" She asked curiously, to which you shook your head. She hummed. She got an idea to improvise, it seems like.

"How about I teach you then?" Huh?! This wasn't going as planned! You didn't want to fight at all.

"T-that's not needed, I'll j-just waste your time," you tried convincing her, but she didn't budge. Eventually though, you reluctantly agreed. She smiled and thanked you for allowing her to help.

"Just try to imagine yourself using Pyro abilities, you'll get the hang of it later." You were really trying. The amount of stress that you had to not burn yourself to death was enough to actually kill you. Still, you trusted Mavuika and her abilities, so you tried anyway. You tried and tried and tried, but nothing really came. You were visibly disappointed, but Mavuika tried to encourage you.

"How about this, you imagine something you don't like, and try to use your emotions to drag your Pyro ability out," she suggested. You seemed to find this useful, so you tried it.

Closing your eyes, you thought of something terrible happening, and instead of seeing the imposter hunt that you very despised, you instead saw Mavuika.

You were being hunted down, sure, but what was most important was that she was getting punished by the Archons for not giving up the imposter. Her face was battered and bruised, and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness. You watched in horror, and tears started to well up in your eyes. This couldn't be! Unfortunately, you were crying in real life too, and Mavuika realized immediately.

"Okay, uhh, you don't need to think about it now," she tried comforting you, bringing you in an embrace to calm you down. Once you came back to reality, your eyes were puffy, and your face was red.

"... Sorry, can we do this another time?" You sniffled, still holding her. She was warm, and you found your self drifting to sleep. She sighed as she picked you up.

"Of course, just don't overdo anything, kay?" She smiled warmly, brushing the tears from your eyes. She wrapped you in a cloak, getting ready to start camp.

Neuvillette contorted his face in disgust. The waters tasted disgustingly sweet. The creator's happiness with another person, likely an Archon. But the waters then tasted bitter, from the creator's sadness.

If only he could just drag you out of that place and keep you for himself, but no. He'll need the help of the other nations to do so, so he sucked it up and left the Palais Mermonia. He visited Furina, just checking in on her before leaving. He'd leave some of the work for Clorinde to do, he trusted her enough to do that anyway.

Reaching the imposter's throne room, there was a long sitting area where the rulers of the nations were there. Only the Cryo, Pyro and Anemo Archons weren't there, but the acting grandmaster came for Anemo, and the director of the Fatui Harbingers came for Cryo. The Geo Archon returned to his status as the God of Contracts, and the Electro and Dendro archon were sitting in their own seats. The imposter was on the creator's throne. They were dead, blood seeping out of their head. Their expression was one of shock, as he could vividly remember the day the Geo Archon killed the imposter.

A seat was vacant. He clenched his teeth at the mere thought of the Pyro Archon. He'd get you back from her, no matter what it took.

"We all know that the creator is in the nation of war, Natlan. However, since the neither of us know its weaknesses besides the Pyro Archon being a human, we need to create a plan to ambush the nation," Jean spoke up. Everyone in the room nodded along with her, too obsessed to notice their wrong doings. However, there was one who objected to this clause.

Nahida raised her hand to interrupt Jean, turning all eyes on her.

"You all chased down the creator like a rabid dog, and now you're trying to kidnap them to do a job that they don't want? What kind of leaders are you? The creator was in Natlan for a few months by now, and since they're not leaving, they are probably enjoying a better life there than your own selfish desires," she objected.

Neuvillette all but admired the young Archon. Despite being small and weaker than the others, she still had the bravery to stand against everyone. However, this was one thing that he didn't agree with. He just stayed quiet though, waiting for someone to object the small Archon.

Raiden did. The God of Eternity looked at Nahida with disdain, preparing to answer the deity.

"And how are you so sure that the creator is having a better life in Natlan Buer? For all we could know, they could actually be running around the vast nation. And, you are one of the younger Archons after all, what use does your words have?" She asked coldly. When she was about to respond back, she got interrupted.

"It is settled, we shall find the creator in Natlan, no questions," the God of Contracts added in. Nahida couldn't speak now. After all, what power does she have to a much more experienced God?

Neuvillete glared at the Archons.

"Whoever shall get the creator first will be the one to solely have the creator in their nation," Neuvillete furrowed his brows at the Archons. They did the same, but still agreed to the conditions, not really thinking of what you want.

Now, all the leaders were going back to their nation, telling their line of military to get prepared. They had to have you all for yourself, and they will do anything for it.

Done! Hope you enjoy!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

SO WHY DO GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD GUYS ?! - the biker's route ☆ !

cashmoneyyysstuff's big 6K event!!

synopsis : leather jackets, motorcycles, a nasty attitude—and a smart ass mouth !! but it's just somethin' about him, y'know ??

an. route 3 is here after making yall wait !!! sorry yall exams r comin up but i hope yall enjoy this part >_<!! also i make a sneaky lil aphmau reference his here bc im very unfunny, enjoy!

when you wake up today, it takes you about 5 minutes to actually get up.

you look to your left and your right, half expecting to be met with another katsuki; maybe this one would be a merman or something?! and yet, nothing.

so you stare at your ceiling and wait. maybe this one will come blast through your bedroom wall like the dragon again..!

nothing, nothing and a whole lotta nothing.

so you finally decide to get up and start your day, things were actually back to normal today. you decide to ignore the slightest twinge of disappointment in your gut but you cheer up a bit when you remember the study date your boyfriend had not so graciously promised you.

you're just about done dressing up, about to tie your uniform tie when there's a knock on your door. katsuki is here to pick you up (despite saying he wouldn't anymore like two days ago, typical.) early and on time as usual, or maybe just a bit too early.

"coming !" you call out, pulling up your socks to line them up comfortably, hobbling towards the door to let your boyfriend in.

you swing the door open, already anticipating to be met with your boyfriend, "you're here ear..ly ?"

you stand corrected, it is him. no horns, no ears or tails..but still...a bit different.

first of all, he's not wearing his uniform, no book bag either. instead he's decked out in a black leather biker jacket, baggy black ripped jeans and silver jewellery around his neck, you catch some rings (and bandages) on his fingers when he reaches up to place a hand against his neck, groaning when it pops. and black combat boots. basically, the whole nine yards for a school day.

"oh." is all you can say, part impressed and partly, mostly, confused.

"thought you were gonna keep me waitin' forever." katsuki said, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. he leans in, tugging you forward by your tie to finish tying it for you.

"wha—i—you just got here." you stuttered "and also, not that i mind, but shouldn't you get dressed for class ?"

your boyfriend looks you up and down, tightly pulling the knot of your tie up properly. you can't help but feel a bit shy at how he's so openly scanning over you.

"nah, fuck that." he shrugs.

okay, now this was strange.

your katsuki with the perfect grades, the stickler, the secret goodie two shoes with perfect attendance wants to skip class?? something was very wrong.

he stands back like nothing happened, shoving his hands in his pockets "anyway, you ready to get outta here or what ?"

"huh ? where are we going ?"

"wherever we wanna, you got anything in mind ?" and he's already turning around, grabbing you by the arm with a smirk.

huh ?

"...is something—"

you can't even finish your question before you hear your name being called loudly, by katsuki. your katsuki, ready for school, book bag and everything just on time to pick you up.

ah, you knew he'd gotten here too damn early.

"dude, this is so creepy."

"how'd this even happen ?!"

"i wonder what type of quirk did this...."

you can catch the beginning of midoriya starting up on his nerdy rambling before sighing. you try tuning your classmates out with a sigh and turn your music up louder in your earbuds.

your homeroom teacher, who had clearly had enough of the surge of bakugou's appearing before him, had allowed this new edgy katsuki (as denki called him, somehow it managed to stick) to attend class. he looked normal enough and didn't look like he'd cause too much trouble, as long as he was attended to, that attendant being you, of course.

"there's another one ?!" you hear mineta cry, surely still traumatised from his experience with the wolfish katsuki almost having him as his early morning snack. the thought makes you laugh. you turn to look at the crowd of your classmates gathered around the twin katsuki's.

kaminari is the first to try and cause mischief, taking his chances since your homeroom teacher was taking a while, and had started a "spot the real bakugou!" contest. the contest was a bit flawed since they were both convinced they were the real original, but you decide not to step in on their fun. (and you have to admit it was a bit entertaining.)

"okay, everyone quiet down please! let's get back on track! " kaminari bellowed, wrapping his hands around his mouth to project his voice.

"gentlemen, whoever can answer this next question will receive..." he sings, drumming his hands on his desk in anticipation, neither katsuki's seem very amused.

kaminari jumps up, dramatically revealing a snickers bar "ta-daaaaa!! a free snickers bar from yours truly! though it's been sitting in my bag for a couple days.." he mutters quietly.

"i don't want that shit." both katsuki's say at the same time.

your entire class errupts into laughter and chaos. you shake your head in amusement and decide to scoot a bit closer to keep listening.

"um..could i request a question ?" midoriya pipes up, raising a hand.

"mister midoriya wishes to request a question ! what do you say, kacchan ?" kaminari the announcer encourages.

"fuck off, nerd!" both katsuki's say again, it's really starting to look like some kind of circus act now. you can't help but laugh along with your classmates.

"midoriya, you have the floor." kaminari giggles, leaning his makeshift fist microphone to your green-haired friends lips.

"how do you feel about having a clone of you ? is it scary ? do you feel connected in a way ? is it—"

kaminari interrupts before midoriya can go full blown geek "please, keep the questions to a minimum, sir !" he energetically spins back around, his chair squeaking loudly as he turns back to your boyfriend and edgysuki. "well, your response ?"

your boyfriend pipes up first with a scoff "like i care, i'm not scared of shit, let alone this dickbag. and no, i don't feel connected to this creep—don't ask me these weird fuckin' questions !"

your boyfriend almost takes this like a real interview, yelling at his childhood friend but diligently staying close to kaminari's fist like it was an actual mic. edgy katsuki seems to think the most important part had been said and doesn't add anything else, although once he spots you in the 'crowd', he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on you. you quickly look away, your ears burn when you hear him chuckle.

soon after his response your classmates pipe up with more and more questions "oh, oh me ! i have a question !" and "can i go next ?!"s sound inside your class. you're just about to request a random question when sero beats you to it. you kick your legs excitedly, knowing he was always the first one to mess with your boyfriend.

"my question's for both the baku's, actually." he drawls, smirking lazily. he leans back in his chair like he knows he's about to start some shit.

"out of the both of you; who do you think likes yn the most ?"

....

huh.

"wha.." you wheeze, the noise stays stuck in your throat . you feel your ears burn, and it's most definitely intensified by the chorus of "ooooo's" overtaking your class. your class rep tries to save the situation, stating it was surely against the rules to ask such an inappropriate question. you nod to him in appreciation.

"i checked the rule book and this type of question is totally fine actually !" kaminari says.

"what rulebook ?!" you pipe up, embarrassed.

he grins at you, pointing to himself "this rulebook."

fuck, you should've seen that one coming.

"now, an answer if you may..." kaminari snickered bouncing on his chair excitedly, barely able to keep his excitement in check.

your boyfriend's eyes flit to you, likely sensing your embarrassment, his ears turn pink and he scoffs. crossing his arms and readjusting in his chair he grumbles. "this is stupid. m'not answerin' that—"

"—i do, obviously."

....

silence. pure silence after the other katsuki speaks.

"i obviously like her more." he repeats, this time making sure he looks at you while he speaks. he's so sure of himself, arms crossed as well and leaned back so casually with a smirk panting his face.

"...hah?" your boyfriend growls in warning "the fuck you just say..?"

"you got a hearin' problem or somethin' ? quit making me repeat myself, dick cheese." the other katsuki sneers back.

"ya think you like my girl more than me, jackass ?!"

"i know i like my girl more than some extra, shit stain!"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLIN' AN EXTRA, YOU PIECE OF SHIT ?!"

"WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKIN' TO BUT YOU, YOU FUCKING MORON ?!"

it's chaos. shouting and howling and absolute chaos. but before things can break out into an all out fist fight, your homeroom teacher finally walks in. barely sparing any of you a glance and setting up his sleeping bag on the floor. until—

"you better all get in your seats by the time i'm finished or so help me..."

you have never moved faster in your life. you're sure you unlocked a hyper speed quirk with the way you zoomed back to your seat, head fixed down on your desk. your homeroom teacher sighs in exasperation, introducing the new katsuki you'd all managed to get very familiar in the span of a few minutes. he makes sure to warn you all with a "behave yourselves." kaminari gulps as he feels the teachers eyes very obviously fixed on him.

safe to say the lesson goes on without a hitch, everyone afraid to breath a little too loud.

you quietly scribbling in your notebook. you hope your teacher can't hear the way your heart hammers against your ribs.

you'd managed to survive your class day under the watchful eye of three people;

mister aizawa, who was already in a bad mood from your earlier predicament with your classmates.

your boyfriend who kept glancing back at you...

...probably because of the third hawk carefully watching you, bad boysuki,( or should you probably call him bullysuki) who was very subtle in chucking paper balls at you while the teachers were looking away. the entire day.

he was seated behind you in the back of the classroom, which gave him plenty of opportunities to kick the back of your chair and look oh, so innocent when you turned around to glare at him. during present mic's english class, he'd dropped his pencil inside the collar of your shirt and barely covered his snort when you shrieked in surprise.

truly, a fucking nuisance. too bad for him, you'd been dating said nuisance for more than a year now and this couldn't phase you in the least.

—before you can reach for your bag, you're brought out of your thoughts by katsuki, the all black one, snatching your bag and throwing it behind his shoulder casually. "you ready to blow this joint or what ?"

"i'm not blowing anything with you, jerk. m'starting to think being insufferable is how you breathe."

"aww. you mad at me, sweetheart ?" he coos, leaning down closer to you. you try not to show your surprise, curling your lip up and rolling your eyes at him. his eyes flit down to your mouth for a short moment. "m'just messin' with you a bit. s'all in good fun."

"it's not funny if you're the only one laughing." you counter. he rolls his eyes playfully. pulling you closer by your arm and leaning in way closer than he needed to.

"fine, s'my bad or whatever. how bout i make it up to you by takin' you out, hm ? got someplace in mind ?"

before you can speak, you're interrupted by your boyfriend snatching you back, causing a surprised noise to clog in your throat.

"she's not going anywhere with you, weirdo." katsuki readjusts his grip on your arm, his palms slightly sweaty. you can already feel he's whole body practically heating up.

bad boy katsuki's smirk is immediately replaced with a scowl, tilting his head back to mean mug your boyfriend. he has a few piercings in his ear too, you notice.

"hah?! s'far as i'm concerned, she hasn't said she was gonna go with anywhere with you."

"she doesn't need to tell you anything. besides, we already have plans. so, fuck. off." katsuki growls, putting extra strain on the fact you and him had a study session planned. the other katsuki doesn't seem to take the news well, cracking his bandages knuckles with a scowl.

"huh, that reminds me. we got interrupted before i got to kick your ass, huh?"

"if you wanna go all you gotta do is say when, pussy—"

before the both of them could start trading blows in the middle of your classroom, you stretch your arms, putting distance between the both of them and surprising them both.

"okay, boys. let's cut it out and use our big boy words okay ?" you sigh, irritated. "since, apparently, you're both toddlers, how about i call the shots here, yeah ?

i'm not going anywhere with either of you if you can't behave yourselves." you turn to look at edgysuki "i had a study date planned, so i unfortunately won't be going out with you. if you wanna come along, be my guest. i have a test coming up so if you test me, i will fuck your life up."

"and you," you turn back to your boyfriend, who's wide eyes are fixed on you "behave, okay ?" you warn, swatting at his chest. he jumps like the action snapped him out of his trance, and looks away with a scoff.

he grunts in agreement but grumbles about it, "should tell that other bastard that..."

that was more than enough for you. "alright, off we go." you usher the boys towards the hallway. your boyfriend moves with quickness, snatching your hand and pulling you away before the other katsuki can get a word in. while walking though, the other katsuki leans in to whisper hotly in your ear.

"that was hot as hell, sweets."

"be quiet." you whine.

"of course you'd get us kicked out of the library—of course of cou—how could i not have known ?!"

currently, you're trying your best to not lose your mind.

the difference between a half human hybrid katsuki and a shoujo bad boy male lead katsuki ? one was wild and untameable and it was definitely not the one you're thinking of.

you're honestly surprised the fucking wolf and dragon were easier to deal with than a biker jacket wearing delinquent.

it had started..okay ? maybe ? then again with any amount of katsuki's, going from 0 to 100 wasn't a hard task. you think maybe bad boysuki had started teasing you too much for your boyfriends liking. as protective as he was, and it sort of would've been flattering(you've always had a think for the delinquent type, okay ?!) if they hadn't started trying to have a showdown for your affection in the middle of a library.

and with the way they'd acted, it wouldn't be a big surprise if you were banned for life.

"i didn't even do shit but he—"

"he swung at me fi—"

"both of you shut the fuck up or so help me..." you groan, rubbing your temples. "i love both of you very much, unfortunately, but i'm only human and right now i'm having to hold back the very human urge of wringing your necks out like geese !" you shriek.

your boyfriend looks at the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe against some rocks, he never liked getting scolded after all. you'd almost feel bad, almost. (you still feel a little bad.)

"he—"

"quiet."

"yeah, quiet, loser." bad boy pipes up.

"you be quiet, too." you point, eyes wide. "you know what ? do whatever you want. fight to the death in the middle of the road like buffoons all you want, i do not care. do not come talk to me until you figure it out or...!" you splutter, trying to think of a fitting punishment "no smoochies for a month!"

your boyfriend's head shoots up, looking at you like you'd just admitted to torching his precious signed all might card "w-what the hell ?! that's basically only punishment for me!"

"figure. it. out." you conclude, turning your nose up and walking away and ignoring your boyfriends calling out for you. god, it was like dealing with two big baby's, and dealing with one was already more than enough!

but even if you are pissed off, your katsuki does have an extremely kissable face, and you don't know if you could hold up your end of the punishment.

you're sitting in your room now absentmindedly thinking about your predicament, study sheets splayed out around you. when you hear a knock at the door. you quickly get up, eager to leave your notes behind and stretch your legs. you're greeted with bad boy katsuki, looking down at the ground clutching something in his hand.

"you left this in the library..." he mutters, looking away and handing you your pencil case. you blink in surprise—you had no idea that you'd left it—but you manage to keep calm.

you clear your throat before responding "oh, thanks."

"should thank that other guy. he's the one that found it an' told me to bring it to you." he admits "even though i was gonna do it too, fuckin' bastard ordering me around..." he grits out, bitter.

your heart warms, your boyfriend was an idiot after all.

"where is katsuki anyway? well, my katsuki that is."

katsuki scoffs a laugh, finally looking back at you "m'right here, sweetheart."

wow, talk about déjà vu.

"but if you're looking for him he went off somewhere, said i should go see you first or whatever."

you sigh in relief "well, i'm glad you guys managed to get along."

"tch. i ain't getting along with that bastard. don't lump me in with him."

"kinda hard to do considering you are the same perso—."

"yeah, whatever—just—look." he steps closer, walking in your space and closing your door behind you. he backs you up until your knees hit the bed and you slump backwards with an "oof!". he has you where he wants you now. quickly shrugging off his jacket, revealing a tight short sleeved shirt (perfectly accentuating his muscles, mind you) his arms placing themselves on either side of your head. you lay there looking up at him speechless, wide eyed.

"it's stuffy in here. should open a window." he explains, eyes locking with yours.

"right..." you gulp.

"your room's a mess, too."

"okay, you can get it out if it bothers you." you snarked, squinting at him.

his eyes soften and he looks down at you seriously again. "look," he repeats"i don't—i'm not good at shit like this. but..." he looks off to the sound, grumbling. you catch how his ears bleed pink.

"i don't like you being mad..or whatever." he knocks his forehead to yours "...so stop it."

you snort "wow, so smooth." you chuckle when he shifts to shove his head into your shoulder with a quick "shut up."

his hands search and feel around until they get to yours, intertwining them. "don't..." the rest of his sentence is muffled into your shirt. "i can't hear you." you say curiously, he groans loudly.

"s-stop making me say embarrassing shit." he pulls his head out to look at you, your noses bump against each other. his lips oh, so close to yours.

"don't go...thinking that other guy likes you more than i do, got it..? and don't go liking him..more than me..." he trails off. eyes locked to yours, he waits for your response. you swallow harshly. you want to lick your lips, but he's so close you're worried they'll touch.

"well, i like the both of you just the same. so you don't need to worry about that." you say, managing to gather your thoughts you wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug. he grunts, surprised, but melts into you quickly enough.

"guess that's good enough..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck. he laughs when you squeal in surprise.

"i still like you more than him though."

and then, as soon as you blink, he was gone.

katsuki let's out a high pitched gasp when you surprise him in the common room kitchen, wrapping your arms around him.

"bwu—wh—what the hell?! don't just sneak up on me like that, dumbass !" he splutters, trying to make up from the cute little noise he let out. you giggle, squeezing his waist while he groans. he can't pull you off him as he's doing the dishes and that'd cause one big mess. (and since he's already on thin ice and doesn't wanna get his boyfriend privileges revoked, he'll stick this one out.)

he sighs, defeated "did that fucker fuck off yet ?" he asks.

"potty mouth," you laugh "and yeah, he's gone now. thanks for finding my pencil case for me, by the way."

he reaches to pinch you and you groan at the wet feeling on your skin, wiping your arm on his shirt. " keep having to pick up after your forgetful ass. should be more careful instead of having a hissy fit at me."

"don't start with me right now, katsuki."

he chuckles and shrugs, resigned. "you still mad ?"

"i wasn't anymore, but your little remark just made me re-mad at you."

your boyfriend stiffens and whips back to look at you, frowning. he squints, you squint back. after a heated stare down match he concedes and rolls his eyes.

"...sorry."

"meh. 2 points."

"what the hell?!" he groans, his hands splash around in the water causing soap bubbles to fly. you laugh and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. his mouth closes abruptly, surprise filling his features.

"well, i won't be taking away your smoochie privileges, at least."

"don't sneak up on me like that.." he scowls "and you better not. would've become your worst fuckin' nightmare till you gave in."

you snort "yeah, right. more like you'd become the whiniest baby."

"fuck off." he scoffs.

you giggle to yourself quietly. swaying lightly as your boyfriend silently does his job, the clinking of the dishes filling in the silence.

until katsuki decides to speak up. "hey."

"hm?"

"love ya."

your heart jumps, looking up at him as he keeps his back to you. your face heats and katsuki shows no sign of being bothered by your silence, if only the way he slows down just slightly in his washing.

smiling, you press a kiss to his back "i love you, too."

he stands straighter, almost electrocuted by your words. he huffs, shifting on his feet.

"hmph...i win, then."

curious, you look up at him again "what are you talking about ?"

he finally looks back at you, a feral grin forms on his face "that face stealing bastard can like ya all he wants, but i still love you more!" he snickers evilly.

your boyfriend was, truly, the biggest idiot.

taglist ! ( if your name is in bold i couldn't tag u :< )

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @themultifandomgirl @icey-wonders

[tbaluver]

Hi! I’ve been really enjoying your lads hcs, and I want to request where reader is an idol. Thank you and have a good day!

When You're An Idol- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi anonnie ! i'm happy to hear you're enjoying my works i hope this was okay ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ fun fact i used to be like a big kpop stan in like high school but now i just enjoy their music anyways okane kasegu watashi wa suta any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Oh he's your biggest fan.

He'll have all your albums and photocards. He'll even have plushies and keychains of your character that you made for a collaboration event. He'll even have that keychain on his sword.

If you were in a group, he doesn't really recognize the other members there because to him you are the face of the group. You're the main visuals, dancer, vocalists, and rapper. His eyes are always placed on you.

He streams all your shows, music videos, fan cams, music, any minute and second he can. Any concept you had was his favorite concepts. He secretly saves some fan edits of you.

He in fact does get jealous when there's rumors about you having a dating rumor with another idol. You'll reassure him and you'll immediately deny the rumors are false to the public. They probably just caught you and Xavier on a date and assumed it was a different idol.

He's also very protective of you in public. He's basically like your bodyguard. He'll lead you away from any fans and paparazzi's when you both just want some alone time.

Zayne:

Just because you're an idol does not mean he's not your doctor. He STILL is and he insisted that it's beneficial for you that he's your doctor. And who are you to complain? With both your busy schedules, you two can catch up for a bit when you have a checkup. He will still scold you if you're neglecting your health and will tell your managers that it's doctors orders to not put you on a harsh diet or practice.

Y'know how surgeons listen to music while performing a surgery? Well he listens to your entire discography on LOOP while he performs a cardiac surgery. It helps him focus and you get more streams ! No one is allowed to change the music or complain. His colleagues would not have expected him to like your music so they just assume it's because your his patient and that's why he listens to your music.

Nobody knows that you two are dating so you keep your relationship private so no one can disturb your personal lives. He also just doesn't want to be in the spotlight in general.

He'll support you in any way he can. He's not really the type to go to concerts but for you he will. He'll even have his light stick and memorize the fan chants to your songs. If he can't attend your concerts because of work then he'll make sure to stream the live version ones.

He would also send you texts before you have any performances or interviews. He'll make sure to watch on his breaks to support you and will send you a text afterwards, saying how you did so well and he's proud of you.

He's probably also the type to send you flowers or have food delivered to you whenever you're working. It's to keep your relationship private but also a way to show that he loves and supports you.

Rafayel:

His artwork would make frequent features in your music videos which speculates some rumors about you two dating. And you two would make it so OBVIOUS. On both of your social medias, you two would post the same location at the same time. If you two posted a selfie, fans would see you two have matching jewelry or detect you wearing his clothes. He'll 'accidentally' take pictures of your merch in the background of his pics. Rafayel doesn't care if fans found out, I mean it's about time.

He would have a field day with your stylist if they dared to give you the worst outfit, makeup, hair color or style. He would want that stylist to be fired immediately and he'll style you himself.

He'd be so excited when you'd invite him to an event. You two would have matching outfits and you two would be the cutest and prettiest couple there. He's already used to the cameras, interviews, and the people there. It's like him going on an exhibition tour but this time it's more fun because he's with you by his side.

You two would have a lot of photoshoots together. But he just loves to be your personal photographer. He'll make sure to make his own photocard of himself so you can have it on the back of your phone case like how he has a photocard of you on his phone case.

Any of your shows that you have, he'll attend. He'll make sure to be front row and center so when you see him in the crowd, you can blow him a kiss.

Sylus:

Fans and paparazzi's would be so worried when they found out you were caught entering the N109 Zone. They thought you were getting kidnapped and they just thought the area was too dangerous for their beloved idol. You had to post on social media that you were okay so you and Sylus had to find a better way to meet up.

He would sing your songs in the karaoke room with Luke and Kieran. When you're there, you'll have a duo song or it'll get really competitive.

He also knows how to play the organ so if somehow you needed that instrumental you let him feature in it privately.

Sylus would buy a concert VIP room so he doesn't risk getting caught at your concert. He'll even bring Luke and Kieran because they're your second biggest fans there. He'll tell you which area he is in the concert venue and you'll make sure to look in that direction to acknowledge and appreciate that he's always there to try and support you. He would also have a massive smile on his face when you're performing. He loves to watch you perform and doing something you love.

You two are always facetiming whenever either of you are away. You both miss each others company a lot and can't go by a day without communicating even if it's just a small update.

If any fans tried to stalk you or make you uncomfortable just let him know and he'll take care of it himself.

Caleb:

Caleb has been supporting your idol dream since you were little, encouraging you through your trainee days, debut, and every step to becoming the idol you always dreamed of.

Whether you were miles apart or in different countries, he’s always making sure you were taking care of yourself. You two would call and text whenever you two can. He’s also never minded watching you practice your choreography or listening to you sing during your hangouts.

Whether you were an idol in a group or just a solo artist, he knows how constantly traveling can take a toll especially when fans swarm around you and your team. That’s why he offers to fly you to any destination you need, just the two of you. However this does mean no airport outfit pictures from your fans or the press so your team insists that you have to travel on the same plane as them whenever you have a comeback so fans can speculate rumors when they catch a glimpse of your dyed hair/ wig under your hat.

Whenever he works out, Caleb always makes sure to listen to your songs. If it were a group or featured track, he’ll skip over the parts that aren’t yours or he’ll just find a version of it that only has your parts in it.

Collects all your photocards from your albums and puts them in his phone case. He changes them anytime he gets a new one, giving each of them their time to shine and only because he can’t choose his favorite. Keeps the other photocards in a little photocard binder. Anytime his comrades ask about the photo in his phone case, he’ll proudly respond, “My girlfriend :) ” Which only makes them think he’s even more delulu

He’ll be the loudest in his section at your concert, shouting your name the loudest during your part in the fanchant with his lightstick up high in the air.

There might be rumors that start to spread about you dating someone. Fans start to get suspicious of you not boarding with your team occasionally or your ‘personal chef’ in the background might be your boyfriend when you went live.

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

More Important (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Summary: you not feeling well is far more important than work in your boyfriends' eyes

Warnings: the reader is sick/doesn't feel good but it isn't specified the reason why so it's pretty much up for interpretation, House and Wilson are both loving and worried boyfriends, kind of hurt/comfort given the themes, brief and mild swearing, they/them pronouns are used to refer to the reader one (1) time in a gender neutral manner

A/N: I felt awful when I woke up the other day and when I went back to sleep I had a dream with House and Wilson that ended up inspiring this fic

When you woke up that morning, every muscle in your body ached as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks on you while you slept. As much as you wanted to just stay in bed, you unfortunately had to get up to use the bathroom.

House was still asleep next to you, letting out the occasional peaceful snore despite the time indicating he'd be late for work if he didn't wake up soon. Not that he cared.

Wilson was already up and ready, from what you could tell. That assumption was later confirmed when you stumbled to the bathroom, the sight before you making it seem as though your boyfriend was being serenaded by the sound of the blow dryer as he fixed his hair.

"Are you almost done? I need the bathroom," you mumbled groggily, leaning up against the side of the doorframe while you waited for him to finish.

"Well, good morning to you, too," He responded in a voice that was far too chipper for your taste given how early it was. "And yeah, almost." He shut off the blow dryer and turned to face you, his big brown eyes studying you with a slight look of concern. Being a doctor, of course he could recognize when something was physically wrong.

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asked, trying to approach the subject in a delicate manner. After all the time he'd spent with House he knew not everyone wanted to talk about their feelings or even admit when something was wrong.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Jus' have a slight headache." Technically it wasn't a full lie, as your head did hurt, but you were greatly underexaggerating the pain level in hopes he wouldn't worry.

Big mistake. Almost as soon as you shut the bathroom door did Wilson turn and head towards the bedroom with the full intent of waking up your other boyfriend.

By the time you were done, both House and Wilson were standing close together, presumably discussing your supposed symptoms, even if you couldn't hear what they were saying.

"I know you guys are talking about me," you grumbled out the accusation while shuffling back over to the bed. Wilson looked a bit guilty to be talking about something involving you behind your back, but House just seemed amused you still had the energy required to dish out snark despite not feeling good.

"Whatever led you to that conclusion?" House asked rhetorically. "We very well could've been discussing what traffic will be like on the way in to work, or our favorite romantic movies." At that, Wilson rolled his eyes in annoyance. House ignored him, finishing with, "Not everything is about you, y'know."

"Don't play dumb with me," was the only thing you could manage to get out as a response given how tired you were. Collapsing onto the bed, you curled under the covers in hopes that maybe all you needed was a couple hours of extra sleep.

Too exhausted for your brain to work properly, you only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. From what you could tell, they were trying to decide whether or not they should stay home from work to look after you, and if so who it should be out of the two of them.

"I'll stay here with them. Just tell Cuddy I can't come in today because of a medical emergency," House offered while glancing over at your blanket clad form. As much as he acted like he didn't care, he didn't enjoy seeing you in pain, even if it was over something small.

"Are you sure?" Wilson questioned, just to double check in case he wanted to change his mind.

House nodded his head to confirm, uttering "yeah, I'm sure" in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling as Wilson leaned down to press a kiss to your face, murmuring the words "I have to go to work, but I'll be back soon". You just nodded, too weak to say anything more than a quiet "love you".

After he left, House made his way back over to the bed, gently nudging what he assumed to be your leg with his cane. "Move over," he commanded in his usual gruff manner that led little room for argument.

Obliging, you shifted over on the bed, giving him the space to lay down in his normal spot. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh as he got on the bed, feeling a little bad he was so rude given just how pathetic you looked. "It's fine."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, your voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else other than this."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, hearing you say that hurt his heart a little. Then again, he couldn't necessarily blame you for thinking that. "Not true. Why would I want to be in a hospital full of sick people I don't even like when I could be with only one sick person I can at least tolerate?"

You let out a snort of laughter, fully recognizing the jest in his tone. He obviously cared, the grumpy bastard, even if he didn't show it very often.

He felt accomplished when he heard your laugh, continuing in a softer and more genuine tone. "Besides, some things are more important, anyway."

"Mhm." Humming softly in agreement, you moved closer to him on the bed until your head was resting against his shoulder, making sure to give him the space to get up and stretch his leg if he needed to later on. "I love you."

A faint smile formed on his face at your words, one of his arms reaching over to wrap around you protectively. "I know." It was his own way of showing his love for you without having to say the words.

Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, you must've dozed off because the next thing you remembered was being woken up by the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Could you be any louder?" House's irritated voice rang out through your ears, the sound not being entirely unpleasant even if it did manage to wake you up more.

"Sorry," you heard Wilson apologize in a hushed tone. There's no way it was evening already, which meant he must've gotten off work early.

"What are you doing back here?" You called out, your voice sounding tired yet curious. "You're supposed to still be at work."

"I couldn't stay knowing you were home sick," he responded as he slipped under the covers next to you, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes first.

"Oh, sure, just forget all about me," House complained in mock offense, something that Wilson chose to outrightly ignore.

"But the hospital- I mean, you're the head of oncology, you can't just-"

"Some things are more important," Wilson gently cut off your worries, his hand reaching out to rest on top of yours.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," you muttered while giving House a look that said 'I know you two have been talking about me again'. He looked back as if he had no clue what your deal was.

"Go back to sleep, honey. We'll both still be here when you wake back up." It was hard to ignore the command of the oncologist next to you, especially when he spoke in such a low and soothing way.

"Okay," you agreed without a fight, snuggling comfortably into the arms of your two boyfriends as you closed your eyes and allowed sleep to overtake you yet again, starting to feel a lot better already.

End notes: I feel like I'm not very good at writing fics with poly couples which is a damn shame because I really love doing it </3

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[sysig]

I decided to give a go to @niennanir’s lovely print-your-own-fic recipe on my Inside and Out as a test run and I’m quite pleased with the results as a first pass :D

I wish I’d taken a few more process pictures but there was a slight lull as I had to go shopping for 12x12 cardstock lol, but! I do have a couple closeups/extras that I added for funsies :D

I went with freehanding the title and I think in the future I would opt to not do that lol, at least not without a printed template. That said, both LibreOffice and SAI refuse to recognize my SCII fonts >:0 If you notice on the first page, I used the Ace Attorney font in italic haha, it’s an okay alternative even if it’s not what I actually want |0 I am happy with the gold detailing tho :3c

I did have an unconscionable amount of fun freehanding the ship caption tho ahh <3 <3 Immediate happy stims upon completion, their names together look so pretty ♥ Credit to Zarla’s original minicomic on that one :3

I also managed to get the last sentence of the fic isolated on the last page thanks to the formatting haha ♪

I was also able to add a bookmark! Ma happened to have a couple very thin ribbons to choose from and red ended up complementing the green very prettily!

It reminds me of VUX tongues hehehehe ❤️💕💖💞

[wannaeatramyeon]

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: Gitae Kim

2.2k. G/N. Gitae Kim x reader. Reader is morally grey. Gets spicy (Prequel-ish: An Introduction) Other Masterlists

“So, let me get this straight."

"Mm." Goo hums, meaning go ahead.

"You're paying me to babysit?"

"Man-sit," he interjects.

"Whatever." You flap your hand, "but I am looking after this person, correct?"

"Yes my little sweetpea." Goo rests his head on your shoulder, so close you could count his eyelashes and see the way his pupils dilate. "It's my secret friend's first time back in Seoul after being away. It'll be good for you to show him around."

"...I'm charging my usual rate."

"Sure-"

"And you're covering our expenses."

He rolls his eyes, "Ugh, fine."

.

.

Gitae Kim, from what you have managed to find out, is patricidal and a powerful man with unsavoury dealings.

"Play nice," was Goo's parting advice when you came to him with your concerns.

"Play nice?!" You say, voice shrill. Goo grins.

"Fuck you, my rate just tripled."

The grin drops and is replaced by a scowl.

.

.

"I thought we could try this place. It serves the best yukhoe." You gaze over to Gitae sitting in the passenger seat as you navigate the roads, checking if there's any response. 

Nothing.

"Raw beef tartare." You explain, "I've heard you can be bloodthirsty."

His eyes flicker to you and you give him your most charming smile.

.

.

Head resting in your palm and elbow on the table, you observe him.

You find his table manners leaves a lot to be desired and watching him has put you off your own meal.

He eats like a beast but if the ferocity that he attacks his food is anything to go by, you're right on the money with guessing his taste.

"Let's get you another drink," you murmur, signalling for the staff. "Goo will kill me if you choke to death and I'm not practised with the heimlich."

.

.

"That was good, right?" You ask, striding alongside and trying to match Gitae step for step as he ignores you.

"I think you enjoyed it. Or you look like you did. I'm not really a fan of raw anything to be honest but gotta be a good host." You direct a smile his way and he hasn't even glanced over at you. You shrug it off and continue to ramble. "I'm still pretty hungry. There's a really good bubble tea place round here and they have a limited edition drink I want to get-"

"No," Gitae cuts in rudely.

"It won't take five minutes."

"No." He repeats, indicating there's no room for argument.

"Aww, cmon," you pout and he once again continues to ignore you. You consider going anyway, with or without Gitae. 

Goo, face scrunched up in anger and shrieking obscenities, pops into your mind's eye when you imagine telling him that you might have lost his secret friend because you wanted a bubble tea.

"Fine," you grumble and throw Gitae a dirty look.

.

.

Gapryong's eldest is a man of few words and it only adds to his intimidating and menacing aura.

You've seen his list of achievements and he is not someone you want as an enemy. But when someone is this difficult, your default is to try and see what response you can get out of them.

"You know they have vapes now," you signal at the pipe hanging from his belt as you continue to walk next to him.

"Do you smoke?" you ask, and expectedly, he doesn't respond,

"No? I guess it's cool you're committing to it for aesthetic reasons." Then dammit, you wonder what has gotten into you. Maybe it's hanging out with Goo too much because you can't help but add, "Even if it makes you a bit... y'know."

He slows, looking over at you at the same time that you pull a face. Indicating clearly you meant 'cringe' even if you didn't say it aloud.

"You do you though," you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He looks at you for a beat longer, head tilted and eyes narrowed, before continuing on his way with you scurrying to catch up.

.

.

By the end of the first week, Gitae has responded to exactly three things that you've said.

The second week, he's still mostly silent but he actually looks at you sometimes when you talk.

The third week, he calls you by your name when he demands your attention and you're surprised that he even knows who you are.

And the fourth - you manage to make him laugh.

Ok, maybe laugh is a bit generous, but he exhales harder than usual and you're sure he's at least amused.

.

.

GItae thinks you're strange.

You run your mouth like you don't know who you're talking to, though you anticipate his needs and preferences like you've been studying him for most of your life.

You're this side of irritating, but not irritating enough that he wants to kill you. 

And, the few times he tunes in to your comments, he admits that he finds you quite entertaining.

No-one has spoken to him like you do in a long time. There's a refreshing honesty to your words, and he's also confident that you're not going to stab him in the back at any second to wrest control of his cartel territory, which is also a welcome change from his usual company

It means that he can relax around you, or relax as much as someone like him can..

All in all, progress. Gitae finds himself trusting you like you're his second-in-command.

.

.

"What do you do for fun?" You ask. Gitae doesn't respond.

Right, you think, back to ignoring me.

You roll your eyes and start to ramble about this and that. You tell him that you're chronically online, giving a wry smile, and say it's a general side effect of your job but at least it's interesting to know the ins and outs of a few things.

Really though, maybe you should consider taking up some exercise to get fit or even as a form of self defence with your line of work and the people you come into contact with (you give Gitae a side eye at this) but it's kinda hard to find the time and-

"I can teach you," comes Gitae's low voice.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeats and your mouth drops open in shock.

.

.

Ok, as far as bad ideas go, this is a terrible one.

First, Gitae is huge. There is no chance you could even win in a spar or anything against him. You doubt even bullets would be able to penetrate that muscle.

Second, there is a lot of close contact and even more touching.

You aim a punch with all your might at him, any part of him. He deflects without effort, capturing your fist in his palm and he pulls you to his body. Chest against your back, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your own to your side as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.

He leans down to murmur into your ear. "You're very weak." You can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. "But you're very fun."

Your eyes snap to his at his words.

He's grinning, for the first time you've been with him. Eyes crazed and pupils blown, breath hot on your skin.

"Thanks!" You dip your head just before throwing it back sharply, connecting to Gitae's nose with a loud crack.

.

.

Gitae's nose isn't broken though it is bruised.

You apologise profusely and he tells you you have nothing to apologise for.

"It's a great hit."

You halt in your apologies, peering up at him through your lashes with a smug smirk, "I know."

.

.

Your response plays on his mind.

The lift of your lips, the sharpness of your smile, the confidence in your eyes, that half-lidded gaze.

"I know."

.

.

Gitae sees you in a new light.

He has enough of an understanding of Goo Kim to know that he's selective with his secret friends, and you have talked enough that Gitae also understands you play the role of brain rather than brawn.

Though he did not expect such viciousness to hide under your veneer, or you to be capable of such an underhanded move.

He's impressed.

.

.

"Why do all these shows make Mexico so blue?" You ask, watching a scene unfold on your phone. "Is it actually?"

You hold out the device to Gitae, some drama show playing and Mexico is indeed blue tinged.

"No."

"Hmm. It'll be cool to see for myself." You murmur, pulling your phone back.

Gitae pauses. The idea of you in his territory is very appealing. He can demonstrate to you exactly the kind of man he is, the power he wields. He can relish the impressed (or horrified) look on your face.

"I can show you," he says and you beam at the offer.

"Deal!"

.

.

“How many people have you killed with this?” you flex your hands, signalling ‘gimme’ and Gitae passes over his axe.

“Too many to count.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly,  testing your grip. Gitae gives you a strange look.

“I gather intel, remember. That’s my thing,” you say, swinging the axe experimentally a few times and appreciating the heft behind it.

The meaning is clear: I know all your secrets and Gitae, to his surprise, feels some respite at this fact.

.

.

"Fuck," you squirm to no avail, trapped underneath Gitae as he looks down at you lazily, inches from your face.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, held in place by his grip as his other hand rests, light but threatening, on your throat.

You have had a few other training sessions since the first one, and the way they had gone was all pure luck. You had managed to gain the upperhand by complete fluke.

This time you feel completely stuck. Movement completely restricted. Gitae straddles your hips and you’re left unable to escape. You have no way to get close and cause any damage.

"Looks like you lose," he says.

You buck your hips, trying to throw him off but the weight and strength difference is too vast. He barely moves even with all your effort and you’re left more dishevelled than before. Shirt riding up and hair in your eyes and mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan again, elongating the word and pouting.

You peer up at Gitae and find his eyes flicking between your jutted out bottom lip and your sliver of skin on show.

An idea pops into your head. It may be your worst one yet.

Throwing caution to the wind, you tilt your head up in one swift movement and kiss Gitae full on the mouth. You make contact harder than anticipated, almost clashing your teeth painfully together but adjusting the angle just in time. 

His body stills when he realises what you’re doing.

“Why-” he asks, pulling away, and you take advantage of the distance to nip at his bottom lip and reel him back in.

Gitae’s thoughts are cut off. 

You bite down roughly, feel your sharp canines punctuating skin.

Blood bursts onto your tongue and he lets out a guttural groan, eyes boring into yours and darkened with lust.

His other hand releases your wrist, caressing over your body, slipping down until it reaches your bare exposed skin. He slides his palm under your top, long, thick fingers splaying over your ribs.

With your hands now free, you continue kissing him, mingling spit and saliva and bursts of metallic tang.

You squirm and this time, Gitae gives in to what you want; rearranging his position without breaking contact. Tongue delving into your mouth. Tasting you as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Taking advantage of the situation, you hug your arms around his neck and use your body as leverage to flip him over. Straddling him as his hardness grinds into you and his hands circle your waist to press your body close.

You can feel exactly how turned on he is, how much he wants you. And god, you’re just as fucking horny. You want him just as badly, except now you’ve managed to climb on top, the whole point of this came rushing back. You absolutely hate yourself for stopping this but-

It’s the principle.

“You know,” you murmur into his mouth, then pushing up off his chest to sit up, “I think I’ve won. Again”

Gitae frowns at the sudden loss of contact, “What?”

“I’ve won. Pretend this is a knife,” you smirk, holding your hand against his throat, in an almost-mirror image of your previous position. “I would have killed you.”

Gitae’s eyes widened in surprise, “You did this… to win?” 

“Yep!”

“I didn’t expect you to play so dirty.” He says, grinning maniacally as the pieces click into place and he finds himself completely captivated.

“I play as dirty as I need to,” you tell him, tongue swiping out to lick the remnants of his blood from your lips before dipping your head down to kiss him and continue where you left off.

[godjustkys]

ahem, el, with much love i need to see crowley getting absolutely ruined on his throne when he's the king of hell. with y'know, all the good stuff, sweet talking and heavy degradation cause it's crowley and he's kinda an insolent little shit.

much love and please, luci ( luzi to you )

SYPNOSIS: degrading crowley while he’s riding you on his throne.

CHARACTER: male reader x crowley macleod

NOTE: wrote this on a whim in one sitting. enjoy luzy 🫶

p.s. requests are always open!!

WC: 0.9k

WARNING: degradation,, whiny crowley,, dirty talk,, cocky!reader,, edging,,

a small, shaky, yet somehow a clearly frustrated sigh leaves crowley’s lips. his face scrunched up slightly and then twitched — whether it was in annoyance or pain was for you to decipher. here he was, the king of hell, sitting on the lap of a mortal, on his damn throne, taking the man’s cock up his ass. fuck.

your hands were on his thighs and the moment he took you to the hilt, you started moving your hips, not giving him any time to adjust. crowley inhaled sharply before clicking his tongue, his hands on your shoulders tightening. “bastard.” he managed, his voice so small, so.. whiny. “careful, don’t pout now. you can take this,” your voice came out as a soft murmur, all while your cock was snuggly in his hole, stretching him. he clenched around you and shifted his hips up, his face a permanent scowl. “ah-ah,” you breathed, your hands trailing up to grasp his hips and pulling him down again. he groaned, his voice low. “stay right here, baby,” your hips thrusted up as your hands held crowley down as much as possible. you were balls deep and it was a fucking delight. a soundless gasp left your throat at the feeling, your cock twitching. crowley turned his head to the side, his body taut. hell, he had a hard time breathing properly.

“you wanna start movin’? or are you gunna make me do all the work?” you asked smugly, a loopey grin on your face. crowley scoffed lightly in response, shaking his head just barely. he was the king of hell. it was his fucking throne. why is he letting this pathetic mortal do this? eventually, he started moving, starting out rather slowly. “you can do better than that, you’re the king of hell, c’mon.” you urged him smugly, your hands sliding up his clothed sides slowly, as if worshipping his body. in the midst of this; crowley actually enjoyed that. the leisure, hungry touch.

it’s been so long. crowley lost track of the time. he was so close to cumming so many times, yet you wouldn’t let him. his legs were trembling as you leaned back in the throne, your eyes locked on the mess of a king that was still, in fact, riding your cock. he was desperate to keep some kind of rhythm, but every time he felt your cock drive up into him, he would grunt, the noises spilling from his mouth non-stop. he couldn’t help it. his hair was disheveled, sweat glistening on his skin. ugh. poor lil crowley.

“you feel that, baby?” you whispered, your voice ragged as you just watched crowley take your cock time and time again. “so fuckin’ tight. like your hole was made to take my cock.” in response to such a sentence, he growled, though it was weak, almost fragile. “fuck you—”

“you are,” you cut in with a grin, hips snapping up hard, forcing a low, guttural, throaty moan out of him. his mouth hung open, drool already coating his soft lips, his eyes screwed shut. he couldn’t hide the stupid, pathetic need for you, your cock. it was horrid for him. “look at you,” you murmured, one hand trailing up to grip his jaw. your fingers rubbed across his scruffy beard, just staring at him in all his glory for a moment. “all that power, and..” you cut yourself off with a scoff. “and you’re shaking jus’ cause i’m deep in your guts.”

oh. oh that seriously got a whimper, a fucking whimper out of him. and when you circled your hips just right, grinding the tip of your cock into his prostate, he mewled. the sound was high-pitched and crowley has never felt so stupidly pitiful. he choked out a curse word that you couldn’t even make out, his hands desperately clutching at your shoulders as your cock kept hitting that sweet spot. “you— filthy, fucking.. prick!—”

“ah-huh, you’re still riding my cock like your little demon life depends on it,” you mused as his hips twitched helplessly. “the King of hell, a fucking cock-whore, who.. woulda thought?” you spoke into his ear. “whining and drooling on my cock. bet no one’s ever fucked you like this. bet no one’s dared.” crowley let out a broken, angry and humorless laugh, before collapsing fully against you, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “you think— this’ll make me yours?” he muttered, though his voice was already shaking, wrecked beyond repair.

“I don’t think,” you mumbled, thrusting up so hard his body jerked. “I know.” and then you angled your hips, slamming into that spot inside him again that had him crying out pathetically, one hand clawing at your back. “right there,” you whispered darkly, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “that spot? i’m gunna keep hittin’ it til you’re screaming my name, begging for me to cum inside you like a needy little bitch.” he made a choked, desperate noise at your words, back arching as your cock pounded into him again and again, the slap of skin obscene and soaking wet. “go on,” you hissed. “milk my cock, baby. show me what that tight little hole’s good for.” it took a little bit until he actually, finally, after all that edging, came. and when he did.. his whole body tensed, mouth falling open in a silent scream as his ass clamped around your cock like a vice. he was whining and groaning right up in your ear as he rode out his orgasm.

And the best part?

You weren’t even close to done.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Flower." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

Summary: Daryl has been looking for ways to propose to you. However, something simple but meaningful is always best.

A/N: This is like a second part of "What it means to me" but you don't have to read it first. I stole Daryl and Carol's scene and the flower in Sophia's name, but I haven't slept in almost three days so I feel my attempt at explanation is garbage, but I tried hard, really, so here it goes. Thanks to everyone for liking and sharing my stories!

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times did you plan to propose to (Y/N) this week?”

“3.”

“And how many times did you waste?”

“3.” Daryl lets out a grunt of frustration, one that comes from the back of his throat, and he crosses his arms to shield himself from Carol’s words.

The music in the house shared by some family members isn’t loud for obvious reasons, but the people Daryl knew from the beginning are there, enjoying each other’s company. There are glasses and bottles, laughter and smiles you haven’t seen or heard in a long time, all of you together on a night that deserved to be celebrated after feeling fear and lost for so long.

“How the hell ya expect me to do it if y'all are always on top of her? There’s never a moment when ya leave her alone, and when ya did, someone showed up.”

Carol finds the double meaning that Daryl never intended to make, so she covers her lips with the back of her hand to stifle the sound of a laugh.

“Excuse me but I assure you that you are the only one on her.”

A blank expression spreads across Daryl's face, one that manages to hide his own shyness about his and your intimate life.

“Ya ain't helpin'.”

Carol shrugs apologetically, quickly silencing her laughter.

“Okay. Okay, the first one was our fault, but you had (Y/N) all to yourself out there at the lagoon twice and you didn't say anything to her. When I asked her how everything went she said you looked like you were about to pass out.”

A sharp ache grips Daryl's heart, a reflection of the pain of a missed opportunity.

“I tried but y'know I suck with words, an' I can't find 'em when m' with her. Everythin' disappears when m' with her—the noise, the words, everythin'.”

Carol smiles slightly, seeing Daryl's eyes and the way he inadvertently used his words to speak about you, and looks at him fondly like she always did.

"You're good with words, Pookie, it's just that you're still so dazzled by her that it makes you feel shy to be around her, like when you met her in the camp. Her gaze that's warm and deep when she looks at those she loves, all of it intimidates you still, even if you say it isn't. What I mean is: you’re in love, Daryl Dixon, that's why you feel that way."

Daryl swallows, stealing a glance from you sitting next to the high granite kitchen table in the dining room of the room next door.

The wild journey outside had ended when the group found refuge within the walls of Alexandria, trying to adapt back to normalcy until you all finally did, even Daryl Dixon who had come a long way since that new, blood–stained world had risen (more than the others)—growing as a person, going from the loner, the outcast, the one who survived best alone, to one of the most fundamental pillars of the family, one who would silently give his life for someone else.

He had found a family.

But if someone had told Daryl Dixon in the past that he'd find you and have everything when he'd always had nothing (a wife if you said yes, a house if you wanted to start a family on your own with him), he probably would have sent them to hell for lying, or shot them in the face for making fun of something he thought he'd never have. A warm, real home was a crazy, inconceivable and unimaginable idea to Daryl, who always believed was better off alone until he found you. Daryl was never one to commit to anything or anyone until you came along, and now he can’t imagine his life any other way. Now he even wanted something that would tie you to him, something that would tie him to you.

There, an idea of ​​how to ask you appears in his mind, with a light so blinding it dazzles even him.

"Fuck it. Wish me luck." Daryl whispers before leaving his place in the living room, with Carol smiling at him.

It's a nice party, and he doesn't want to be out of place in the conversation so Daryl stands next to you, his side pressed so naturally against yours that, while sitting away in a corner, no one notices that he hasn't stopped caressing your skin under your shirt since he arrived (with you feeling the warmth of his calloused fingers) while Rick tells you all a story from his past, finally without a trace of sadness in his voice. And it's endearing for you to hear him speak, imitating his smile like Rosita and Glenn.

"Meet me at the picnic table outside in 5." Daryl whispers after a while, and then, he walks away.

Confused, you do so. With a minute to 5, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, walking straight toward the back door of the kitchen, the one that connects to the backyard. Amidst the green grass still holding a few drops of dew, the wooden table has two rectangular chairs on either side, but there's something about Daryl's deep gaze as he watches you the whole way over there, sitting with each leg on either side, too.

Like a hammer hitting the head of a nail, your heartbeat seems to pick up that intensity when Daryl slides himself down the wood just a little, so that his knees and yours touch.

"You're scaring me." You laugh nervously, tugging slightly at the collar of your t–shirt that seems to stick to your skin until it suffocates you. "Are you okay, love?"

Love. That blessed word that always came after your honest concern for him, way back when it all began and when the others were always tempted to get rid of the burden he seemed to represent.

“I am, Peach, s'just…” Daryl swallows as he slides his nervous hands over the fabric of his pants, still holding your gaze, but he hates that is happening again, the way he chokes on his own words, like a barrier blocking his ability to speak. “Shit.”

“Do you… want to break up?”

There's no emotion in your voice, just a weighty question that makes his body shrink back.

“What?” He blinks, and his heart gives him no respite or warning, and it starts pounding like Daryl’s on a marathon toward the end of the earth. “Y–ya wanna break up?”

The one second–fear is painful, more than the bullet when he was shot.

“No, of course not.” Even through his long hair, the strands covering part of his eyebrows, and the dimly glowing nightlight, you can see his brow furrow in worry, fear. “It’s just, you’ve been on edge this week, and every time we’re alone, it seems like you want to say something, but you don’t dare, and that’s not promising, you know?”

Daryl starts to shake his head, his eyebrows trying to knit together in an expression of real pain.

“Peach, no, shit, m'so sorry. I never meant to worry ya or make ya feel like I didn’ want ya anymore 'cause s' the complete opposite.” He takes a silent but deep breath, allowing the air to find places, to fill them, and to continue living for a moment, or maybe a lifetime to spend with you. “I wanna tell ya a story, but please listen to it 'til the end an' then give me an answer, okay?"

You nod at the unknown even if it makes you feel you are walking blindly; at the overwhelming feelings this evokes in you.

Daryl reaches into his front pants pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper the size of his palm, only to place it between the two of you, on the wood: and there, there's a flower drawn with a pen in messy lines.

“S’a Cherokee rose.” Daryl clears his throat, his gaze fixed solely on the image, but his voice deepens slightly in the night and with the weight of his words. “The story is that… when american soldiers were movin’ Indians off their land on the trail of tears… the Cherokee mothers were grievin’ an’ cryin’ so much cause they were losin’ their lil’ ones along the way to the exposure, disease, starvation. A lot of ‘em jus’ disappeared, so the elders… they said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mother’s spirits, givin’ ‘em strength, hope. An’ the next day this rose started to grow right where the mother’s tears fell… an' I wanna believe that somewhere… one grew when I met ya.” When Daryl raises his head and his gaze catches yours, the intensity forces you to hold your breath for a moment, as if with a quick, sharp breath, the air could also carry away the overflowing emotions too fast. “What m' tryin' to say is… ma mom used to say this flower grows after someone’s pain an' s' funny to think how ya appeared jus' when I couldn't bear any more pain.”

Daryl smiles softly, and his gaze softens too through the past he still feels, but even in his own darkness that blends with the night, there’s still beauty to be seen in the dim light.

“Does it still hurt?”

Your question glimmers with your own pain, causing your voice to crack slightly, but that little spark of concern is extinguished when Daryl shakes his head.

“Nah. The scars will always be there, but it all stopped hurtin' a long time ago.”

You nod, but the pain in response to his abuse reached you at a supersonic level, so fast it violently settled inside you.

“I’m glad. Honestly.” You laugh embarrassedly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes, so you slide your fingers from the edges outward in a failed attempt to keep them in line. “I’m sorry.”

“Shit. No, m' sorry, Peach.” Daryl leans forward until his fingers can cup the soft skin of your face and his thumbs can wipe away the first tear that falls from either side. “Didn't mean to make ya cry, I jus' want ya to understand that yer the reason m' here. Ya saved me from myself. Ya always felt like the home I never had, an' I wanted to keep that with me almost selfishly an' all the time. Why ya think I followed ya everywhere?” Daryl lets out a short but heartfelt laugh, and you manage to imitate it with less intensity. “Yer ma home, Peach, yer everythin’ to me, that's why right now I jus' need ya to be honest with me, okay?”

He pulls away, and the wind brushes and chills the skin where his warm fingers had been, but you nod, watching as Daryl reaches into his pants again, making a fist to hide whatever he's holding, until he places a ring over the drawing. Like lead, you feel a weight on your heart trying to drag it down with the sudden nervousness, perhaps heavy with all the emotions that have gathered there.

When you look up again, Daryl smiles sideways, a little with his own nerves.

"Would ya lemme be yer husband?"

[bloodstainedsapphic]

thunderstorms

took some heavy liberties with week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and i's jinxed july challenge to write the forced proximity mattheo riddle fic of my dreams. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. and also big thanks to @pizzaapeteer for proofing, i love you! 2.5k words | fluff? i think | f!reader implied

Snap. Another twig breaks underneath the tattered soles of your shoes while you continue the trek along the less-traveled grove. The air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and earth, and sunlight filters down on you through the leafy branches, casting shadows on the greenery that litters the forest floor. It is pristine, seemingly unaffected by too much human activity. 

That is until Mattheo and you embarked on an increasingly futile mission imposed by your one common interest - your mutual friend Enzo. He had eagerly insisted that it be the two of you that forage for an ingredient native to the area, claiming that adding it to a drink mix can get you wasted quicker than any brew sold in shops.

The pair of you had done well not to stumble too far from Enzo's parents' summer home. A generous invitation had been offered to your friend's group - a chance to relax and kick back there over the long weekend. A relatively secluded area, it is sparsely populated by second homes of the upper class or rickety cabins so old that not even magic can prevent them from slowly succumbing to the elements. Everyone tries to enjoy the spoils of the location's offerings, as it is a sweet spot to spend the few warmer months in Britain.

"Y'know, I am not an outdoorsy guy," Mattheo complains after another branch scrapes his forearm. "This is the dumbest mission Enzo could have sent us on."

"At least we can agree on one thing," you mutter exasperatedly. "I should have known you'd have no sense of your lefts and rights."

Two steps ahead of you, Mattheo pauses and looks back, his expression suggesting, 'You want to go there?' His brows raise, and his chocolate curls still fall perfectly over his forehead despite endless collisions with twigs and branches. Honestly, you were unsure if his looks or personality irked you more. You glare back so he knows exactly how you feel about the situation.

"Right, take no accountability for being one-half of why we are still out here," Mattheo responded in kind, then turning back to continue leading the way.

"You are rid-"

"Ridiculously handsome? I know. Come up with some new material, sweetheart," Mattheo interrupts with his unending cocky attitude. Preparing to unleash more insults, you are startled by the feeling of a cold drop on your head. Then another. And another.

A loud clap echoes above, booming in the sky, followed shortly by the rapid motion of overcast clouds moving in, blocking out any remaining sunlight. A second roar of thunder bursts, sending out another warning that a storm is fast approaching. The sudden singular drop quickly builds into a consistent shower, and the panic sets in over the both of you. Mattheo takes charge, gesturing for you to follow him and for once, you decide to take his lead without talking back, which might have been a mistake as you continue deeper into the forest and further away from the house.

Minutes felt like hours under the increasingly ceaseless downpour as you and Mattheo scrambled through the grove. Finally spotting an old cabin structure, you make a break for it and dash underneath the awning for some reprieve. Mattheo vigorously jiggles the knob of the dilapidated door, seeming to forget his wizarding abilities. Propelled by a clash of thunder, you watched Mattheo resort to brute force, managing to barrel through the door and get you two inside. 

Solely focused on escaping the pouring sky, you follow him in while heaving from the chaos.

"Nice going, genius," you admonished Mattheo while catching your breath. "Forget a first-year unlocking charm?"

"Ungrateful as ever," Mattheo responds gruffly, his amusement overshadowed by temporary exhaustion as he steps over and shuts the door that is barely held up on its hinges. "See? I got you out of the rain, and the door still works." 

The two of you take some time to shake yourselves off in a meager effort to eliminate that soaked feeling. Squeezing out your top,  you silently curse at the unpleasantness of your damp hair that now clings to your face. You looked over and watched Mattheo shaking his head, his hair splattering leftover water all over the vicinity.

"You're like a wet dog," you feign disgust, unable to resist a chance to tease.

"What else am I expected to do?" Mattheo countered, brushing his hands through his hair and hoping for the best.

"Be more tasteful with it," you suggested, suppressing a snort afterward at your own poor choice of words.

"Tasteful? You seriously went with tasteful?" Mattheo caught on, his disgruntled look from the uncomfortable wet transforming into a grin. "Bloody hell, sweetheart, I know you love my perfect curls, but that really is the least of my concerns." 

You coped by turning away to continue drying yourself off, hoping he did not see your disconcerted expression.

Once Mattheo reached a state of dampness he could live with, he stepped toward the intact windows to watch the storm outside. It was miraculous that a cabin as worse for wear as this one held its own against the onslaught.

"Well, we might be stuck here for some time. I suggest you get comfortable," Mattheo announced with a resigned sigh, glancing back to the room for potential spots to sit or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "The floor. The floor will do."

He follows through, eyeing spaces on the rickety floorboards to settle down. You roll your eyes at the idea, though the increasing weight of your legs after all that running starts to wear on you and beckon you down. So you give in, finding your own spot to settle, a perfectly reasonable distance from him. His eyes bore into you with an unreadable expression, a bit too analytical for your comfort. You are not too fond of him watching your every move. Not at all.

"Could you look elsewhere? I am not your prey to stalk," you finally snap. 

"What? This is just how I look at things. You cannot blame me; it is either you or the rotting walls," Mattheo retorts, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his hands.

"Your eyes are… they look too hard!" you complain amidst a struggle to find the right way to explain why his gaze ruffled you so much.

"Too hard? She thinks I look too hard, whatever the hell that means. Salazar, help us, a true wordsmith in the midst," Mattheo complained to himself, ensuring his frustration was loud enough to invite further squabbling.

"I am just saying! Look elsewhere!" you insisted.

"I can't help it. You are more interesting-looking," Mattheo justified through gritted teeth, his increasing annoyance evident.

"Interesting-looking? And you accuse me of being unable to talk today. Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Tell me you would not have my head if I called you pretty, so interesting it is!" Mattheo growled in a harsh but earnest tone. He shook his head, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort over what he admitted. Just to add to the pettiness, he scooted to face even further away from your direction.

This development undoubtedly took you by surprise, silencing you momentarily in your conversation. You always had a comeback for Mattheo, but this was the first time you had absolutely no clue how to retaliate.

"Pretty?" you repeated, pushing aside your dignity to clarify you had heard correctly.

"Yes, pretty," Mattheo confirmed, his voice huskier than the bellowing moments prior. "Is that such a shock to you?"

It honestly did feel like a shock. In all the time you had known each other, the words you exchanged were cheeky at best and plain disrespectful at worst. A more tender way of describing you was not something you expected to come from Mattheo at all.

"It is. I thought I was just your favorite punching bag," you admitted. 

"Oh, please. Do you honestly believe I would answer you at all if I really could not stand you? Perhaps you are more dimwitted than I initially presumed."

"I just thought—"

"And given that I have seen you quite literally punch some poor bloke who truly bothered you, I assumed you fell into a similar train of thought, no?"

Hell, you hated it when he was right. Something about Mattheo kept you coming back for more in a way that couldn't simply be attributed to the proximity of your friend group. The feelings creeping up inside you now had less to do with being stuck in a cabin with him through a storm and more with how this predicament forced you to come to terms with how you truly felt. You visibly shifted where you sat as feelings you had no clue how to handle washed over you more intensely than the rain still pouring outside.

Mattheo rose again without warning and stalked around the cabin, this time on a mission.

"What are you doing?"

"A blanket, a towel. Something to warm you up," he replied, his attention fixed on his newfound goal, which was an insatiable need to help and protect you in your wetted state. 

"You do not have to! It will probably be full of mildew should you even find one," you protested through your sheer surprise at his kind gesture.

Initially written off as too damp to use, the fireplace centered on the cabin's back wall was suddenly vital to Mattheo's mission. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Mattheo reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and crouched in front of the fireplace.

"Incendio…" he spoke the incantation, causing a flame to spout from his wand toward the firewood on top of the grate, hoping they were not too far gone from the elements.

To your shared relief, a small fire came to life before your eyes, its glow brightening your dampened spirits which was soon followed by an embrace of its much-needed heat. 

"Yes!" Mattheo hissed excitedly, hurriedly gesturing you to come closer, and you did. The previous distance you had created no longer mattered, as you were now shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a chance to enjoy the warmth provided by the lit fireplace.

With the both of you too focused on warming up by the crackling flames and learning to ignore the blaring storm outside, peaceful silence hung in the air. A mutual respect arose between you as you ruminated over the afternoon's events.

You glanced at Mattheo, whose shoulder you were now definitely pressed against, and seized the opportunity to check him out shamelessly. He was right; that penetrative gaze remained even in his resting state. The light from the fire highlighted the warmth in his eyes that usually matched the dark of night, and his brown locks that had dried into bouncy coils perfectly suited his chiseled structure. The last remaining baby fat on his cheeks softened his enigmatic look, especially in more calm instances such as this. Few were treated to such a view of him, let alone have the capacity to appreciate it like you did. Wait - appreciating him? He seems to catch on simultaneously, the corners of his lips twitching in satisfaction over your turn to gaze.

"I am not your prey to stalk," he abruptly spoke up in a high-pitched, mocking tone to mimic your previous dramatics. You pushed your shoulder against him further as a hollow threat to get him to quit his teasing.

"You look too hardddd."

"Stopppp," you plead, pressing against him again, which causes him to turn to you finally. That stupid, intense gaze again was now much too close for comfort.

Mattheo scoops your hands into his larger, calloused ones, suddenly enclosing yours. He begins rubbing them, his touch creating a friction that warms your fingers, and despite your confusion, you don't immediately pull away.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to warm you up."

"It is still summer. They are not that cold, really…"

"Let me just have this excuse to hold your hands," Mattheo says hushedly, shutting down all of your protests. His touch is comforting, so you allow it.

"Forward this evening, are we?" you still can not resist asking with a raised brow.

"Maybe. But when else will we be trapped for a night like this?" Mattheo was right again, blasted. The bubbling chemistry was now utterly unavoidable, and this night was simply the catalyst for this new beginning.

Still, it was so recent that you likely would not change your behavior towards each other once you returned to your friends, who were probably worried sick about your whereabouts. The storm was still raging, so you just accepted that it would be easier to call it a night instead of waiting for it to pass or even worse; risking your safety by trudging through it. You silently agreed with Mattheo to let this evening run its natural course, showing your reciprocated feelings by allowing him to continue creating friction with your hands via a similar technique used to make a fire.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as you cozied up to each other, finding yourself leaning more into him as your lids grew heavier with tiredness.

Mattheo took on the role of a pillow, pressing his back to the floor and letting you lay against him, going as far as draping your leg over his and resting your head on his chest. The resistant part of you wanted to claim this was merely to survive the night, but Merlin, he was easy to sink into. No longer fighting the call of rest, your last conscious moment was the feeling of Mattheo pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sleep took over.

—-------------

The chirping of birds and light rays seeping into the small windows of the cabin signaled it was time to wake up. You two had stayed wrapped up in each other for the night, which was probably the sole reason you felt at all rested.

The warm embrace of Mattheo kept you tucked cozily into his arms, providing a warmth that was now overwhelmingly hot in the morning summer heat. Suddenly, the chatter of approaching voices traveled around the hollowness of the cabin before the distinctive voice of Enzo called out. "It only took a dangerous thunderstorm to bring you two together," he remarked, a wicked grin matching his chirpy tone. You looked up to meet his gaze through the cracked window, which illuminated your intimate position with Mattheo. The cheeky disturbance startled Mattheo awake with a jump, groaning at the loud intrusion of his mates' voices.

You observed through squinted eyes as Mattheo and Enzo began quarreling. Amidst the light-hearted chaos, you heard snippets like 'It's not what it looks like!' and 'The ingredients search was a load of bollocks, wasn't it?' The goal to save face came second to your relief at rejoining your friends.

A ruse that had gotten way out of hand landed you in the last place you would have expected this morning, but the possibilities it offered left you nervous but hopeful. You watched a bit longer before stretching and getting up to join, armed with your own silly defenses over why you were caught in Mattheo's arms as the lot of you made your way back to the summer home.