#and now somehow i get to follow my dreams and try and make a difference

[bibuddie]

just remembered i’m finally starting my dream degree in a little over a month and got the urge to giggle and kick my feet

[kobb4ni2]

[FEM READER!]

Just imagine. Sea Serpent! Reader who is EXTREMELY HUGE/TALL. Like this is one piece man everyone is tall a$$ fvck bro, but like in Google it says that a sea serpent is 60.96 metres or 200 feet in my research so uh.. IMAGINE Sea Serpent! Reader who just woke up from a hibernation and already started going attention from the World Government, they try their best to recruit you so they sent the admirals but ohhh boy.

Since Akainu, Kizaru and Kuzan were the first person you've met after a very long time, you picked them up on their coats like how a mother cat picks up their kittens and how they tried their best to get out of your grasp but when you put them on your hands near your BIG BWEEBIES (I LOVE BEWBIES :3 I'm a fucking lesbo) . They really tried their best not to look on your chest (Kizaru is trying his best.) Akainu being the more professional one he tried his best to follow his orders while Kizaru and Kuzan were just basically using the devil fruits around you.

Kizaru could just be in your palms and in a second next to your shoulders, while Aokiji was secretly using the highest temperature he could do so he can see your reaction (kinda kinky ngl). Akainu is out here trying his best not to melt those two. You really tried your best to listen to Akainu's proposal yet you can't when you're out here squishing each of the Admirals cheeks:3

Let's say you agreed to be in the marines cuz why not? It's been a long time since you felt the thrill of an adventure! And somehow you were already high ranked because of your brutal strength, plus your fishmen karate you could practically control tides. The world government tried their best to not let your presence be known in public cuz bro. YOU ARE BASICALLY A WALKING HISTORY BOOK FOR HOW OLD YOU ARE.

You were immediately given a high ranks as a Vice Admiral, the world government then gave you a house...or beach?...Body of water? I DUNNO but a big place with water that's your home :3. You only spend most of your days, there only being visited by higher ups and the forced isolation were already yandere tendencies to the Admirals + Platonic Yanderes such as Sengoku and Garp.

Corazon and Coby (Sea Serpant! Reader was found way before) were only exeptions to see you, and they were immediately HEAD OVER HEELS. Corazon could not think straight or THINK whenever you're mention in a conversation, he would just immediately day dream. Size difference? I mean yea the only smallest form you can turn is like 20 feet or something BUT IT CAN WORK IT WILL WORK (take that as you can 😈) Sengoku is Corazon number 1 hype man🔥 While Garp is Koby's hype man lol :3

Now if you were lucky enough to even have some kind of freedom but if some kind of MIRACLE you were placed as a Vice Admiral picking up the Warlords when it comes to a serious meeting it would be an interesting sight, let's just say that they went to the meeting not because they were interested in the shit show of a meeting but they do want to see the 200 feet tall Sea Serpent again...

AND QIQBAIA8 And since you were found long before, let's imagine that you were a Rocks Pirate. (I HAVEN'T READ THE MANGA YET SO SORRY IF MY INFORMATIOM OF THE ROCKS PIRATES SUCKS). You were the eye candy of the Rocks Pirate. Big Mom, Kaido, and Newgate would always be 24/7 ON YOUR SIDE, they will one make you join their family one day !!

After many years they are still doing so, Kaido making you marry one of his calamities. The Tobi Ropo even tried some flirty moves on you, but Yamato. Dear lord. Even with or without his father's consent YAMATO. WILL. MARRY. YOU. END. OF. STORY.

You and King got really close after you tell some brief mentions of the Lunarian race back on your days, and that's what bonded you guys, yet everytime he was near you and you started talking about his race, he can only day dream of you with a traditional Lunarian ring (or any courting object), on your hands with....children around you with brown skin, black wings with fire, some has some long tails that suspectedly looks similar to yours...Wait. IS HE THINKING THAT YOU AND HIM CAN RE POPULATE THE WHOLE LUNARIAN RACE WITH A MIX OF YOURS! END HIM NOW!!

While Yamato is out here telling you that you are his Toki to his Oden, (corny, but its Yamato I forgive him :3) and since he's Oden, he must create a family with you! He would thunder bagua anyone's ass if they tried to even break his dream! No more of that!!

And you know the drill YEAA BIG MOM, RAGGH. Big Mom out here making you marry any of her children especially her Sweet Generals, the best for you ♡

You and Katakuri connect when it comes to your sharp teeths, plus Katakuri never felt so small in someone eyes until he met you, the very first time he layed his head on your cheek or your long tail as you sweetly careless him telling him to let go of his stress, he never felt this way..he felt so well treated, he now just Katakuri, the Katakuri that didn't need to hide his sharp teeth, instead loved from you. He never felt this way of submission...

Cracker and Smoothie too felt the same, their mother is a bad one indeed so when they are on your presence they could just relax and be caresses by you while they lay on your chest ♡ (Cracker isn't looking, he swear he isn't 👀)

Whitebeard is the same as those two but more cunning perhaps (in his own way). Both Kaido and Linlin are evil yes. But Whitebeard might be a pirate but he is far from evil, he is an honorable pirate the clashed with the greatest Pirate of all time, he has that (DAWG IN HIM) sense of respect, his opinion and decisions are always noble ones too, so what ever he says must be true and reasonable...right?

Do you like Marco, his first division a healer who would take absolute care about you, or Ace his second division, you would never get bored with him while he is around! Izo? The Samurai who was a follower of the Great Kozuki Oden! He dances so elegant from his homeland! Choose my dear, he just wants you to be apart of his family so badly!!

I can yap about this all day but I got school yall plus I don't really think any of you will like this idea. Also whoever tries to even have sex with Sea Serpent! Reader, their ass would NOT be walking the next day💀👆🔥

Hide yall ladies/manz Sea Serpent! Reader is in town😞‼️

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[reaper2187]

Renee rapp x fem reader

As the sun streamed through the window of the cozy salon, you nervously fidgeted in your seat. You had been contemplating getting a haircut for weeks, but the thought of drastically changing your appearance was enough to make your stomach churn. Despite your fears, you couldn't deny that your long hair, once luscious and silky, had now become unruly and unmanageable. It was time for a change.

As you anxiously waited for your turn, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your heart sank as you noticed the split ends and frizziness that had taken over your once beautiful mane. You couldn't bear the thought of losing all your length, but something had to be done. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that it was just hair, it would grow back.

Finally, the stylist called your name and you followed her to the chair. You explained to her your hesitation and she reassured you with a warm smile. She suggested a popular haircut among her clients, the 'wolfcut'. It was a short, layered style with bangs that swept across the forehead. You had never heard of it before, but you trusted her expertise and gave her the go-ahead.

As she snipped away, you could feel the weight of your hair being lifted off your head. It was a strange sensation, but also a freeing one. When she was done, she spun you around to face the mirror. You couldn't believe what you saw. You had never had short hair before and it was a shock to see yourself with a completely new look.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, you paid the stylist and stepped out of the salon. As you made your way back to your house, you couldn't resist running your fingers through your shorter locks. It felt so light and different, but you couldn't help but wonder what Renee would think.

Renee had been your girlfriend for a little over a year now. She had always loved your long hair and you were afraid she might be disappointed with your drastic change. But you also knew that she loved you no matter what and would support you in your decisions.

As you walked through the front door, Renee looked up from her book and her eyes widened in shock. You could tell she was trying to process your new hairstyle as she motioned for you to come closer. You hesitantly walked over and stood in front of her, waiting for her reaction.

'Oh my god, you got a haircut!' Renee exclaimed, reaching out to run her fingers through your shorter hair. 'You look amazing, I love it!'

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled at her enthusiasm. She pulled you down for a quick kiss, completely unfazed by your new appearance. As you sat down next to her, she asked you about your experience at the salon and how you were feeling about the change.

'I was so nervous, but I'm happy with how it turned out,' you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

'I can tell, you look so confident and beautiful,' Renee replied, her eyes filled with admiration.

As the day went on, Renee couldn't stop admiring your new haircut. She constantly ran her fingers through your hair and planted kisses on your forehead. She couldn't get over how different you looked, but how it somehow made you even more attractive to her.

That night, as you cuddled up in bed, Renee looked at you with a serious expression. 'I have a secret to tell you,' she said, taking your hand in hers.

You sat up, wondering what was going on. 'What is it?' you asked, feeling a little anxious.

'I've always had a thing for women with short hair, especially wolfcuts,' she admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. 'I never thought I would have a chance to date someone with that hairstyle, but then you went and surprised me.'

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. All this time, Renee had been secretly dreaming of being with someone like you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence and happiness wash over you.

'Really? I had no idea,' you said, feeling a smile spread across your face.

'It's true, you look so fierce and sexy with this haircut,' she replied, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

As the night went on, Renee couldn't keep her hands off of you. She kept saying how much she loved your new look and how it made her want you even more. This was a side of Renee you had never seen before, and you were loving it.

As the days went on, Renee continued to show her appreciation for your wolfcut. She would take you out on dates and introduce you to her friends, proudly showing you off as her badass girlfriend. You couldn't believe how much a simple haircut had changed not only your appearance, but also your relationship.

Looking back, you were grateful for the push you had to get out of your comfort zone and try something new. It had not only boosted your confidence, but it also brought you and Renee closer together. Who knew a little wolfcut could have such a big impact?

[idyllic-ghost]

How about a Yeosang comforting fluff...When Y/N cannot sleep alone this time because of too many nightmares.

Or maybe...A nice Yeosang fluff when he will help you play your new favorite video game. (I am not good at playing RPG games you know haha)

title: Whispers in the Dark; Sweet Dreams of You pairing: yeosang x reader genre: comfort, fluff, slight angst warnings: nightmares, dreaming of death synopsis: You've been having nightmares for a few weeks now, and you refuse to bother your boyfriend with it - no matter how much he asks you to. wordcount: 1k taglist: @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @niktwazny303, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang rating: PG 13

a/n: sorry for taking so long!

join my taglist

masterlists

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Waking up in a cold sweat, yet again, you clutch your chest and frantically look around the room. It's dark; the only light coming from your alarm clock, that says 3:04 am. The creeping feeling that your nightmare followed you into the real world is still lingering under your skin. When the ringing in your ears come to a stop, you hear the soft snores of your boyfriend, who was sleeping peacefully beside you.

You're unsure of when the nightmares started, but it was somewhere around the time when Yeosang went on tour shortly after you had moved in together. Getting used to having him around was easy, which only makes it harder when he leaves. Back then, you'd call him and hope that he was available. Most of the time he was, the different time zones meant that you could call him in the middle of the night and not have to wake him up.

However, Yeosang is back now. You shouldn't have nightmares anymore, but they're sticking around - and now you can't call for him without feeling bad about waking him up. Sometimes, Yeosang would wake up from you moving but that just meant you had to adapt. Nowadays, you stay as still as possible whenever you wake up from another nightmare. You hate to be a bother, so you'd rather lay awake for a while than wake him up.

This time, your attempts fail. Yeosang stirs awake as you shift to lay on your side. He groans and shuts his eyes tight before they flutter open, and then you know you successfully woke him up.

"What time is it?" His voice is hoarse, yet somehow still sweet.

"Go back to sleep," you say.

He repeats his question, ignoring your statement because he knows your ways by now. You sigh and answer him, it's useless to try to hide. Yeosang hums and lazily wraps his strong arms around you to pull you in closer.

"Did you have another bad dream?" he asks with a slightly pampering tone.

You nod, and he hums again in approval. In slow motions, he rubs your back in circles. When you press your ear to his chest, you can hear his steady heart beat. Thump, thump, thump... his hand move to the same rhythm, practically forcing your own heart to slow down.

"I was having a weird dream," Yeosang whispers suddenly.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" you mumble, your eyes already drooping.

"I was in an empty swimming pool, but it was filled with clouds," he muttered, "and I couldn't find my way out... I know that you were there but I couldn't see you, you know? And I think Wooyoung was there, mocking me because I couldn't get out, but I couldn't see him because of the clouds..."

A fond smile found it's way on your lips as you listened to him ramble. The nightmare is long forgotten, Yeosang triumphantly banishes it from your thoughts. You took a deep breath, the scent of his laundry detergent and the lingering smell of his cologne filling your head.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" he asks, somewhat offended.

"No..." Your body betrayed you, as you were cut off by a yawn. "It's just nice listening to your voice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... it's soothing."

You snuggled closer into his chest, taking in his scent and the way his arms felt around you. While you knew that he'd have to leave sometime soon again, you didn't know when. Every moment until then counted, and you had to live like you wouldn't see him for month on end the very next day every day.

"Baby," Yeosang whispered and you hummed. "You're not trying to squeeze me to death, are you?"

"Sorry." You loosened your grip on him, and tried to shuffle away from him but his strong arms stopped you from moving further away.

"Y/N," he murmured. "Are you okay?"

He was looking directly at you now, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Yeosang's eyes were always easy to get lost in, but this wasn't the case right now. His gaze was stern, yet worried, and you couldn't help but to feel like you weren't allowed to look away.

"I know you usually don't want to talk about it..." He sighed. "But, please, let me in. Tell me about your nightmare."

"It's stupid," you muttered. "I was seeing you off at the airport, and everything was okay. But when your plane took off, I was watching from the windows, and I saw it... it went down, and you were gone."

Yeosang hugged you closer again, putting his hand on the back of your head to put it by the crook of his neck. You muttered out some more details about the dream that Yeosang couldn't hear, but he let you rant for as long as you wanted to without interrupting you. It was only when you had been quiet for a while that he started talking again.

"Are your nightmares all like that?" he asked.

"Not exactly... but similar, yes." You played with the hem of Yeosang's shirt. "I think I just don't like it when you leave, that's all."

"I don't like leaving you either... why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"It just felt stupid, I didn't want to bother you with it." You sighed and looked back up at him. "Not when you're sleeping, I don't want to take any rest away from you."

You put your hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone right by his birthmark. Yeosang put his hand on top of yours, holding it still as he turned his head to kiss your palm.

"I'm not resting when I know you're hurting," he muttered before pressing another kiss to your hand. "Don't be scared to wake me up, Y/N, please. I want to take care of you too."

You nodded, and he made you promise out loud before the two of you got ready to sleep again. In his strong arms, you felt protected. You didn't have to worry about him all the time, he reminded you, you could let yourself be taken care of by him from time to time.

[belphies-hands-around-my-throat]

Lucifer, Belphie, Levi NSFW - The Kinks They Discovered With You/Because of You

Hello there, sweets! Happy Halloween!! 🎃

And thank you for deciding to follow this blog lol. I'm honestly kind of surprised with the engagement lol.

This is a bit late but the day has been busy haha. I hope you like my first released NSFW for this blog... And since it's Halloween, I'm not holding back on kinks~~ Sorry, if it's not up to your standards, I am very tired. 🙈

Lucifer - Cockwarming

Well, he was surprised with this because… To put it simply, he never liked mixing pleasure and work. Before you, he would always get annoyed with someone as much as trying to hit on him in a professional setting. But you… You were different. You were there for him, you supported him, and he trusted you. He knew you wouldn't let him fail, and wouldn't get in the way of responsibilities, even if he sometimes wanted you to. Would stay all night doing his work for him, if he felt overwhelmed.

It was your idea. You thought it would be relaxing. Truth be told, he didn't exactly buy it. But he would indulge you, just this once if not again and again if needed.

He would get distracted at first, feeling your warm tight hole around his cock. If he had will any weaker, he would give it up right then and there.

But he had self-control.

He leaned into it, scratching line after line into the paper.

And after a while, he discovered… It really was relaxing in a way. Your presence often had that effect on him but this… Closeness, and intimacy, even when he was otherwise distracted. Somehow… He felt completely calm.

He would lean back in his chair sometimes, push his hips further into your willing mouth, and run his gloved fingers gently through your hair.

It felt good. In a way that was different than sex, or cuddling.

Something in between.

"What a good little pet." He would whisper, unwilling to break the sleepy trance you seemed to find yourself in. "You really knew me better than myself there. Good job."

Belphegor - Dacryphilia

Oh boy. He has a complicated relationship with this one. Here's the thing he always knew about himself - he liked to be somewhere on the "mean in bed" spectrum. He perhaps had more appreciation for tears than he ought to have before. But. You were and remain to be different.

It started for him when he was still stuck in the attic, after meeting you. He would fantasize about his brother's reaction a lot at the time. And your reaction, inadvertently, as well. He imagined how satisfying and thrilling it would be to see the look of betrayal and surprise on your face. And then he started seeing you more and more. It was only natural you appeared in his mind more and more. He wanted to see you crumpled on the floor, looking up at him with pleading eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks. He wanted to tangle his hands in your hair, bring you to his level, and lick them off your face.

Except not really. That would have been gross. You were a human, he would never do anything so dirty.

He wanted, for a second, to be your God and then crush you under his heel.

It was't sexual. Really, it wasn't! So what if he woke up with an aching dick a few times after those dreams. He was just… Excited. It happened. No way he would think of a human in this way. Gross, downright disgusting.

Later though… After his plan had been realized, he found out he was an idiot for punishing you in this way, for something that was never your fault.

Well, it… Still wasn't sexual. Now your tears would make his stomach throb, and he only wanted to wipe them away. Tear apart the person that caused them. They lost their appeal after he was the cause behind them one time too many.

Or so he had thought.

He did not expect the fantasy to come back. He did not expect that him teasing you, looking up at him with a pouting flushed face, tears in your eyes, would make him feel like he was on the highest point of a rollercoaster again.

Truth be told, he felt guilty. Probably not as guilty as he ought to be though (because… He didn't need to crush you, not in the same way. You could be safe, and his, and not really suffer and break for them to flow. And hell, if that happened, he was there to protect you now. You didn't need to bear them alone now.) because he kind of… Indulged.

He would tease you, even if he knew some things would make you terribly shy. Playfully deny you when you wanted to touch him, or just play with his things. Stop at the last moment, when he knew you were just so close to cumming. Overstimulate you on purpose, when he knew you already did.

"So cute." He would breathe against your face, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright, your face caught between his soft and warm hands. "I can never get enough of it. Cry for me, just a bit more…"

Leviathan - Public+Voyuerism? Being a perv lol

Throughout his years on the planet (and various released hentai), Leviathan had a lot of sexual fantasies. Honestly, there wasn't a lot he couldn't find conceptually hot in one way or another… Well, this was it.

It was just… So embarrassing. The mere idea that he could be found out in any way was so utterly mortifying, that he sometimes had trouble with it, even within the context of his own fantasy. Let alone actually trying. He would always find himself embarrassed of PDA, screeching when something had even the tiniest potential of turning him on, turning away from revealing clothes, terrified of being called a pervert…

In retrospect, maybe that's why after all this, he found public to be such a turn-on in reality.

All the repression… Seeing you wear shorter and shorter skirts, lower necklines, coyly flashing him when you noticed him staring, pretending like you didn't notice but not only accepting his perverted gaze but revelling in it… He was never so turned on in his entire life.

The idea that you would see him as this dirty otaku pervert, see him like this and like it… He couldn't get enough of it.

He got a bit brave after a while. Not only staring but subtly brushing his chest against your back, smelling your hair, rubbing his bulge against your ass or thighs just for a moment in the school halls, before he would seriously die on the spot… Pretending like all this was just some freaky accident.

Slowly trailing his finger higher and higher on your leg while waiting in line, beyond titillated with the way your skirt hiked up, and you just stood there, red-faced, and took it.

He once couldn't take it anymore, couldn't stand the thought of getting found out that riled up, and took you to the public bathroom. He covered your face with his large palm, and thrust between your thighs, with your panties lowered just beneath your ass, slowly getting wet with both of your arousal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He would frantically chant in your ear, barely louder than a whisper. "Just for a little longer… Just let me for a little longer…"

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I'm asking for a big favor.

My life is a waste! Everyone knows it. I'm not smart. I'm not good-looking. I have no friends. And, the only girls that look at me are the ones trying to look past my fat-ass body to see whatever I'm blocking. I'm a senior in high school with no future.

My dad will want me to go to community college. He'd even pay for it and support me to eventually going to an actual university. But, he just doesn't understand I'm a lost cause. I've started thinking my youth would be better suited to someone else. Someone who wouldn't waste the opportunities youth can bring.

Then I began to think ... no one is a better candidate than my dad. He had me in his mid 20's. My mom died soon after I was born. Being a single dad, his only focus was to raise me. Any dreams he had for himself were buried with my mother.

But, I guess I let them both down. My dad is the opposite of me. Now, in his 40s, his body is still strong. He has some pudge from age. He is smart and charming. If he'd get a do over, he'd make the most of it. Sometimes, he'd talk about plans he'd have but then shuts up. I guess he doesn't want to make me feel worse considering the bullying at school. The worst part is how much he actually wants the best for me. But I can't do anything right.

I hope this is not too hard. My dad already has all the good traits. The only main thing I want swapped is our ages. And, maybe a reality swap. I'd be his dad. I'd support him financially somehow. I'll drive him to his football games. And, then to college. He'd vist me, and I'll see how good his life turned out. And, eventually, when he is ready again ... I'll see his new ... hopefully better children. My grandchildren.

That seems easy enough. You want your dad to notice his glory days. And while you said he had you in his 20s why not restart the clock right then?

It’s a week before you are going to college and it’s already seemed like it’s been so long since you made this wish. You’re about to turn 19 and you even forget that you made this wish before until your father gives you a hug as you’re packing your bags getting for college. A weird electric shock goes through both of younger you touch. It was odd. Before you know you’re both saying goodbye and you get in the car and head off going to hang out with some friends for the night.

That night you feel ill. Every part of your body aches and your sweating. Ignoring that your father has messaged you asking if you’re feeling alright because he himself is feeling bad too. You taken a few shots and hope that is makes the feeling go away but it doesn’t do anything to make the feeling go away.

The next day you get up and you’re not feeling any better. If anything you are feeling worse. Granted you did drink enough to paralyze a horse last night. You go home and your dad is waiting there but he looks different. He looks…younger…he stops and looks at you. And just says “how’re you feeling bud..”. Fine fine your tell him. And he I just follows you around like sick puppy. Finally you snap demanding to know what it is. And finally he says. “Look in the mirror…I don’t know what’s happening but I started feeling sick last night and I woke up feeling great ! And I have a feeling…you feel bad. And I don’t think it’s because of the alcohol…”

You look in the mirror and you’re shocked. Staring back you is the reflection of someone who is definitely not about to turn 19. It’s more of a reflection of someone who is about to turn 29! A thick mustache rested over your lip. You could see shoulder hair creep long over your back and a thick mat of a chest hair forming. Wrinkles were staring to form at the edges of your eyes.

“What’s happening to me!!” You demand to know but your dad is quiet. You demand to know but he tells you he doesn’t know. But isn’t possible that he looks even younger now that he did when you first got home!! What the hell was going on!! It was like you two were swapping ag….and then it hit you….”oh no…no no no!!!!” And then you admitted to your father. How you made that wish a long time ago. That you felt like a failure and wished for him to be able to live out his youth and you wished to swap your ages. He was so supportive. But it was so odd. Coming from a man that looked younger than you now. “So what do we do?” He asked. You didn’t know yet. You really didn’t know what to think about the whole thing. You being forced to become older and he younger. A permanent age swap !

Your clothes quickly stopped fitting as your father’s clothes became a better fit. Even his shoes. It only made sense for you to retire to each others bedrooms at night. You even developed his habits without wanting to. Smoking. Drinking a 6 pack of beer during the day. By the end of the week you were no longer hesitant on the swap. You were living it to the max. You had become hairier and older. Aging to 43 and balding and even deviling a slight beer belly. You were the dad and treating your new son as he needed to be treated.

The difference was that you knew your son was going to have some confidence issues so you had to make sure that you being the alpha of the family were going to keep him in line. When you dropped your son off at college you took him to the wrestling coach and made him sign up for the team. He was going to be an all star. He needed to live out your dreams after all. He had some big shoes to fill and you were going to sure he filled them and he worked hard to do it.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Four of The Danger in Romanticizing. Part One. Part Three. Ao3 Link

Steve reaches out beside him, trying to wind his arms around the warm body next to him. His arms wrap around a bare torso, smooth even as his fingertips trace over tattooed skin. He presses his chest against the man’s back, pulling him in closer and burying his face in the dark messy curls and breathing in deep.

It feels... perfect.

Steve wonders how he got so lucky to be able to wake up next to this perfect man.

His heart thuds in his chest gradually getting louder and faster to the point that it startles Steve. He slowly cracks an eye open, wondering what the hell is happening, confusion clouding his brain.

“Steve!” Robin yells, knocking louder. “Wake up!”

Steve is suddenly startled back into reality, scrambling back and staring at the pillow in his arms that used to be...

Fuck.

That would be the last time Steve goes to bed thinking about not thinking about Eddie which ultimately ended with him... thinking about him. And dreaming about him.

He groans and rubs his hands over his face.

“Steve!”

“Just a minute,” Steve groans. He slowly makes his way out of bed and opens the door a few inches. “What?”

Robin looks him up and down. “What type of dream were you having? You’ve never slept that deeply before.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve says, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the doorframe. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

Steve cracks an eye open. “What?”

“Yeah, you slept in for once. But hey, do you want to go to Chrissy’s and Eddie’s tonight? They invited us over for dinner.”

The last thing Steve needs to do is see Eddie. “Yeah, that sounds great.” Shit.

Robin smiles wide and says, “Great. Now shower before you stink up the place.”

Steve gives her a look before he shuts the door. He glances down at his chest and notices the way his chest hair is slightly damp with sweat. “Gross,” he mumbles as he grabs a towel and makes his way to the bathroom to try to wash away all memories of the PG dream that somehow wrecked him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

All day, Steve tries not to worry about the upcoming visit.

It’s just Chrissy, Robin, and the man who he’s only seen twice who is quickly taking up all the space in his brain.

It doesn’t help that Robin’s been pressing him about the dream which was first out of concern when she thought his nightmares had come back. Once Steve had (regrettably) informed her that the dream was definitely not a nightmare, her concern turned into morbid curiosity.

“Come on, you’ve told me about your wet dreams before. Why is this any different?” Robin asks as she puts on mascara.

Steve fixes his hair in the mirror next to her and groans, “It wasn’t a wet dream.”

“Okay, so an even easier dream to share with your best friend,” she says, nudging him.

And any other time, Steve would’ve given in, but with the subject of his dream being the best friend of Robin’s girlfriend, who Steve swore he didn’t like, it makes things... complicated.

Robin gasps, “Was it something about Collin?”

Steve grimaces, “God no. Don’t put those thoughts in my head or my unconscious brain might betray me.”

“And did it betray you last night?”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because it’s clearly bothering you!”

“I think it’s bothering you more than it’s bothering me,” Steve snarks back.

Robin huffs, “You’re deflecting.”

“Dating a psych major has expanded your vocabulary, I see.”

“Steve.”

He sighs and turns to Robin. “It was nothing really. I was just cuddling with some random person, and it didn’t make me want to get out of bed apparently.”

The frown on Robin’s face deepens as she moves back from the mirror and puts her mascara down. Her eyes follow the tube down to the counter as she contemplates something. She turns to Steve and asks, “Do you want me to try to set you up with someone?”

Steve instantly thinks of Eddie and suppresses a groan as he shakes his head. There’s no use trying to get with someone else until he can successfully unromanticize Eddie. And yes, it’ll be torture, but he doesn’t want to hurt someone else in the process like he has in the past.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Robin asks gently.

Steve gives her a sad smile and shakes his head. “I was really an asshole in high school.”

Robin lays a hand on his arm and squeezes. “No use punishing yourself for it now.”

He knows she’s trying to help him feel better, but it just further confirms what he already knows. He wishes he could call some of the girls he dragged around back when he was so hung up on Nancy and couldn’t think about the feelings of anyone else involved. But it’s too late now.

Steve glances at himself in the mirror. He knows he hasn’t physically changed too much from when he was in high school considering it’s only been a few years, but he sees a new haunted expression in his eyes that didn’t use to be there before. He’s grateful that Robin and the kids had such a drastic effect on his life and changed his entire worldview, but sometimes he misses the blissful ignorance that came with being a popular asshole.

He glances down at his watch and decides he should probably change into something more presentable for dinner. His heart lifts a little when he thinks about wearing his blue polo with the green stripe and hoping Eddie will find some amusement in his preppy choice. “I’m gonna get changed,” Steve dismisses himself, quick to lock himself in his room so he can stare in the mirror longer than necessary.

Soon enough, he’s listening to Robin’s poor instructions as she attempts to guide him to Chrissy and Eddie’s place while getting distracted and forgetting key turns. “You’ve been dating Chrissy for a month now; shouldn’t you stop worrying about perfecting your mascara?”

Robin continues to stare at herself in the mirror, somehow still focused on the mascara she’s been touching up for hours before they even left. “I would like to date her for another month, and if that means perfect mascara, then I’m keeping it that way.”

Steve rolls his eyes at her and hits his brakes sharply when Robin yells at him to turn right. He sighs and asks, “And in the two years you’ve known her, you’ve had perfect mascara every time?”

“I would touch it up anytime we were put on a shift together at the coffee shop.”

“And every time during your destined first class together?” Steve asks, smiling as he recalls all the time Robin would come home bitching and moaning about how wonderful her coworker Chrissy seemed but she never had a chance with her. But last year when they unknowingly registered for the same class and Chrissy sat next to her, Robin seemed to have a small change of heart. She used to tell Steve that the universe perfectly aligned in order to get a class with her. Steve was quick to point out that it was pretty lucky for her to already be working at the campus coffee shop with her.

“Every time,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head and checks his hair in the mirror as they approach a stop sign. He quickly stops himself when he realizes he’s a bit of a hypocrite to make fun of Robin for wanting to look perfect when he’s doing the same thing.

“Oh! It’s right there!” Robin says as Steve nearly misses the turn into the apartment complex.

Thankfully, Robin puts her mascara away and guides him to a parking space. When they get out, Steve stares up at the building and whistles low. It’s one of the nicer apartment complexes in the area that he and Robin couldn’t afford when they first got here.

“They’re on the third floor,” Robin announces, gesturing for Steve to follow her.

As he makes his way up to the top floor, Steve thinks that maybe he does prefer their cheaper first-floor apartment. He takes a deep breath as Robin knocks on the first door to the right. It swings open almost immediately and Chrissy practically jumps out of the door to hug Robin.

Steve smiles and politely averts his eyes to let them have their moment. He hears Chrissy say, “Steve!” as he’s also pulled into a tight hug before being welcomed inside.

He looks around at the space, a living room decorated with nice darker blue and pale pink tones in front of him and an open kitchen to the right with a tall kitchen island that acts as a bar next to a small dining area. There’s only one hallway to the right where he assumes Chrissy’s and Eddie’s rooms are.

“Eddie! Our guests are here!”

Steve smiles as he hears light cursing coming from the room on the left, closest to the living room before the door flies open and Eddie leans out with a sheepish look on his face. “And what if I said my room is not ready for Steve’s tour?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Then I would say that you’ve been in there for hours procrastinating, and I would ask if a clean room is a true representation of how you live.”

“Then I would say you’re rude.”

Chrissy sticks her tongue out at him before grabbing Robin’s hand and pulling her to the kitchen to test something she’s cooking.

“It smells amazing in here,” Steve says as he takes in the smell of baking bread.

“That’s all Chrissy. I’m pretty sure I would burn the place down if I attempted to make a grilled cheese,” Eddie confesses as he makes his way to Steve.

Steve laughs. “What do you do when Chrissy isn’t available to cook?”

“He starves!”

Eddie glares at Chrissy momentarily. “I know how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and order takeout.”

“Very impressive, Munson,” Robin says with a laugh.

Eddie frowns and wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m going to take Steve here on a nice tour of the place so I can get away from you two.” As the girls roll their eyes, Eddie lowers his voice and says, “You see what I have to deal with every time you’re not around?”

Steve turns to him and fights the urge to run a nervous hand through his hair because of the close proximity. “It’s a very rough life you live.”

“Someone understands!” Eddie exclaims dramatically. “And before anyone can argue with me, let me start your tour.” He grabs Steve’s hand and runs down the hall which startles a laugh out of him.

“Why are we running?”

“It’s a speed tour so you don’t get the chance to truly look at my room! But first, we have Chrissy’s room.” Eddie opens the door on the right and gestures around at the room filled with pretty pastels. “She has a wonderful bathroom to herself but much less closet space.”

Before Steve can really comment or take it in, Eddie rushes off to the door to his room, opens it, and shuts it. “My room.”

“Wait,” Steve says as he gets a flash of dark colors and clutter. “You can’t do that.”

“My house, my rules.”

Steve goes to cross his arms but doesn’t when he realizes Eddie’s hand is still in his. “And what if I break the rules?” he challenges.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Eddie flirts easily.

“Eddie!” Chrissy groans loudly. “Stop being a perv.”

Eddie sighs, “I’m not- hey!”

Steve takes the distraction to open the door and rush into the room, nearly stepping into a pile of clothes in the process. He wasn’t lying when he said it was not ready for a tour.

“Well… this is me…” Eddie comments, scratching at his neck and flushing a light shade of pink. He stoops over and grabs a pile of clothes before dumping them in a laundry basket in the corner of the room.

So, maybe he isn’t so perfect after all. Steve tries to shrug away the thought that maybe that’s okay and instead tries to focus on chiseling away at the perfect image he’s started to form of Eddie. He glances around at the posters covering the wall with things that Steve doesn’t recognize until he spots a few picture frames on Eddie’s desk. He bends down and sees a picture of Eddie with an older man. “Is this the uncle you told me about? The one that works at the plant.”

“You remember that?” Eddie asks as he makes his way over to the table.

“Of course,” Steve comments nonchalantly.

 Eddie gives him a quick questioning look before turning his gaze toward the photo. A fond look crosses over his face. “Yeah, that’s my uncle Wayne.” He points at another picture frame with a picture of him and a few guys with matching shirts on. “That’s both Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin – my metal band.” He moves on to the next frames and continues, “And you’ll never guess who those two are.”

Steve laughs at the picture of Chrissy and Eddie in graduation gowns much like the picture he has with Robin except Eddie’s sticking his tongue out and making devil horns with his fingers while Chrissy laughs and holds up what looks like a pom-pom.

“Chrissy was a cheerleader?”

Eddie snorts. “The queen cheerleader actually. I carried that pom-pom under my gown during that whole ceremony so she could have it in photos.”

Steve smiles as his mind tries to form the memory. He looks around at the other frames and can’t help but ask, “There's no pictures of you and… the sort of boyfriend who has no name?”

Eddie huffs and looks down. “No, it’s not… like that. I don’t think. It’s not serious, I mean. Maybe. I don’t know.” He shakes his head and quietly says, “His name is Declan.”

“Declan?” Steve can’t help but say with a laugh.

“What’s wrong with the name?” Eddie asks defensively but a small smile tugs at his lips.

Steve just shrugs and repeats, “Declan.” The name doesn’t feel right.

Eddie sighs, “Well, it’s not like he chose it, Steve.”

The tone Eddie says his name makes Steve cross his arms. “What’s wrong with my name, Eddie?”

An interesting redness creeps up Eddie’s neck as he shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” He suddenly gasps and grabs Steve’s hand, tugging him to the corner of his room. “I have to show you my sweetheart.”

Steve’s heart simultaneously skips a beat and sinks as the nickname slips out of Eddie’s mouth. But then Eddie is gently caressing a guitar hanging on the wall in a way that makes Steve’s heart yearn for the same touch.

“She’s gorgeous,” Steve comments, turning his attention to the guitar. And although he’s never known much about instruments, he can understand why this one deserves the attention it receives from its owner. And it’s especially gorgeous when Steve imagines that same owner playing it, slowly moving his fingers across the strings and-

Steve shakes his head and tries to get a grip of himself, but he can’t help but envision something with Eddie especially when the whole “not serious” comment plays over and over in his head.

“You alright?”

Steve glances back at Eddie and nods with a tight smile. “Just lost in thought.”

It seems as if Eddie’s going to ask what he’s thinking about, but instead, he says, “Let’s finish up the tour.” He maneuvers around a stack of papers and books lying on the ground and leads Steve to another door on the left side of his room. “And here is my meticulous bathroom that Chrissy requires me to keep clean in case we have guests over.”

Steve glances around as Eddie leads him through it to the other door that leads right back into the open living space. “Weird layout, I know. But it’s grown on me.” Eddie shrugs and gestures at the end of the hall. “That there is our laundry room, but that’s not important. What is important is this,” Eddie announces, grabbing Steve’s hand again.

Steve can tell that Robin is staring at them, but he lets himself get lost in all that is Eddie as a tour guide when he suddenly yanks the curtains on the wall open. At first, Steve thinks it’s some type of joke until pink and orange light somewhat blinds him as a glass door is revealed. Eddie opens it up immediately and tugs him out onto a small balcony with a small porch swing. But Steve barely notices it as he stares out at the view.

He hears a small creak behind him and he turns to see Eddie sitting on the porch swing, rocking back and forth slowly. He gestures Steve over, and he’s quick to join him, liking how it’s on the smaller side so he has an excuse to stay in Eddie’s space as he looks out at the sunset. “It’s beautiful,” Steve comments, not sure what else he can say to describe the sight. He’s never been the greatest with words, but beautiful seems to encapsulate the moment perfectly.

They both sit there in silence for a few moments, leaning into each other’s space and watching as the sun paints the sky as it slowly goes down.

Eddie pushes his shoulder into Steve’s a bit before quietly asking, “So, everything went alright with Buckley, I assume?”

Steve’s heart sinks as he recalls the previous day. “Yeah, we talked it out a bit and had a nice night. But I’m sorry you witnessed that and thank you again for all that you did.”

“It wasn’t much,” Eddie shrugs it off.

Steve turns to him and looks him in the eye, catching the way the light makes his eyes turn an amber color that nearly distracts him from what he’s saying. “It meant a lot to me.”

The sincerity of it must unnerve Eddie, as he quickly changes the subject. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed by the way.”

“Noticed what?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s eyes flicker down. “The horrendous polo.”

Steve laughs and can’t help but note that Chrissy was right about Eddie deflecting with humor, but maybe one day he’ll be able to get past that.

“You look good though,” Eddie admits and turns away as he says it; the lack of the overly flirtatious tone Eddie usually uses makes Steve feel damn butterflies in his stomach.

“You do too,” Steve replies, taking a moment to truly appreciate Eddie’s aesthetic from the ripped jeans to the band tee shirt with a hem that was cropped probably with a pair of blunt scissors to the big silver rings that adorn his fingers. But Steve’s eyes rest on a bit of blank ink peeking out from under the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “You have to tell me what your tattoos mean.”

Eddie smiles softly and points at the bats on the side of his arm. “This was my first one, and I was absolutely scared shitless. I mean-”

There’s a light knock on the door that interrupts them. Chrissy pokes her head out and says, “Phone for you, Eddie.”

Eddie sighs, “Is it important?”

Steve can’t help but feel a little pride at the fact that Eddie would be willing to ignore a phone call to continue this conversation with him.

“Not to me, but I guess it would be to you,” Chrissy answers with an edge to her voice.

Steve sees Eddie’s entire persona shift as he stands up quickly and asks, “Now?”

Chrissy nods but doesn’t look pleased about it while Eddie glances at Steve and back at the living room a few times before mumbling, “Shit,” under his breath and rushing inside.

Steve stands up cautiously and gives Chrissy a look. “Sorry,” Chrissy says entirely apologetic as Steve follows her back inside. But by then, the call is already over, and Eddie is rushing off to his room.

Steve watches as Chrissy storms off after him and closes the door behind her with a little more force than needed. “What’s happening?” Steve asks Robin.

Robin just shrugs and watches cautiously as it’s revealed to them that Eddie’s and Chrissy’s walls are much more soundproof than their own. But as muffled as it is, there’s no mistaking that an argument is occurring.

“Would it be horrible if we snuck into the joint bathroom so we could listen in?” Robin whispers.

Before Steve can answer, the door to Eddie’s room opens, and Eddie comes out having changed into a black pair of jeans with no rips, a plain black shirt, no rings, and his hair in a low ponytail. Chrissy follows him out with a clearly frustrated look on her face. “You said you would be here for this dinner.”

Eddie turns around and argues, “You know he doesn’t call often!”

“Because he isn’t good for you!”

“Because he works hard! He’s always on call at the hospital! I’ve told you this, Chris!”

Chrissy follows him toward the front door. “You could’ve invited him to dinner.”

Eddie turns back and lowly says, “You know that’s not how he works he… I don’t know.’

“Please, Eddie, listen to yourself.”

Eddie shakes his head and grabs his keys and wallet out of a bowl by the front door. “Don’t do this right now, okay? Just let me have this moment so I don’t upset him.”

The pair stare at each other for a few moments, a brief silent exchange occurring between the two of them that makes Steve wonder if that’s what he and Robin look like.

“At least apologize to our guests,” Chrissy says curtly.

Eddie glances at the two of them slowly, cringing as he takes Steve and Robin in as if had forgotten about them. “I’m sorry. I just… I have to go.” His eyes linger on Steve for a moment before he repeats, “I have to go,” and rushes out of the apartment.

Chrissy puts her head in her hands and sighs as the door closes loudly. “I apologize on his behalf.”

As Steve finally processes the conversation, he gently asks, “Was that about Declan?”

Chrissy nods and looks back at them tiredly. “Yes.” A timer goes off, saving her from saying anything else as she preps the dinner made for four.

The disappointment settles in Steve’s gut, but he tells himself not to let it show. He’s been there before, having feelings so intensely for someone that it seems like the most important thing in the world. And the feelings are only exasperated by someone who only gives you some of their time as if you’re a second thought… and by the sounds of it… Steve wonders what Eddie’s definition of “perfect” is. And how far he’s already romanticized this man.

Selfishly, he wonders if he would ever be better than the romanticization, and if Eddie would ever choose him over this “sort of” boyfriend.

Steve shakes his head. Slowly but surely, his own romanticization is being chiseled away, and as much as he knows it’s a good thing, it feels so bad.

Tag List, I know it's been MONTHS. I am so so sooooo sorry ahhhhh. But I have SO MANY plans. I SWEAR. I love you guys:

@henderdads @heyitsmeep @estrellami-1 @she-collects-smut @paperbackribs @panicatthediaz @the-unforgivenn @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @bookworm0690 @steddiereid @cherries-and-smoke @brbsoulnomming @deadfromtheneckdown @cosmos-lore @vhelt @i-less-than-three-you @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @whycantiuseunderscore @ytmnzwhre @vacantwatchers @ilovecupcakesandtea @irregular-child @spilled-jar @snapshotmaestro @myownworstenemyyy @silversnaffles

@surreal-honeypot @redfreckledwolf @dcamato @lostonceandneverfound @ajs624 @auroraplume @space-invading-pigeon @bookbinderbitch @leather-and-freckles @inapickleinajar @phirex22 @notaqueenakhaleesi @beckkthewreck @mightbeasleep @th30ra3k3n @fandomfix8 @tanthamorelover @3ldr1tchang3l @little-trash-ghost @haelreadsshit @moonythepluviophile @saramelaniemoon @slutty-weather @tinyplanet95 @foolishness-and-confusion @ape31 @thephantomhood @ilikeititspretty @zaddipax @jcmadgirl @shotgunhallelujah @notfromtwitter

@monsterloverforhire @sherilitchi @anaibis @ashwagandalf @overhillunderhill @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @tolgakolik @pearynice @fruitandbubbles @classof86baby @aellafreya @r1ver-6 @l0st-strawberry @munsonslure @moltenchocolatelavacake @sleepdeprivedflower @0milkman0 @ihavekidneys @bird-with-pencils @sharingisntkaren @novelnovella @zoeweee @socksfanpage @viridianphtalo @octopus-in-cripsis @lillemilly @genderless-spoon @pineappleskiesxx @meganwinchester @phoenixtheone @jaybren @patricks-fabulous-face @idoquitelikebread

[dahliaes]

jean tooth rotting fluff (and smut) hcs

content: lily valley jean & fem!reader headcannons, SIZE DIFFERENCE/KINK IM SORRY, very self indulgent, pet name baby ofc, almost subby jean smut hes, just cute stuff all around <33 thank you to @theragethatisdesire for convincing me they r soulmates last nigit i really needed it,

jean doesnt understand you and hed never try to. he'd never demand an explanation for all your little quirks and strange habits. he just cherishes and adores every weird little thing about you that he doesnt understand, all the things he has the privilege of witnessing he reveres you even though he'll never truly understand you

and hes terrified of someone treating you like you're not special, like you're normal and not this perfect strange and wild girl meant to be observed and free

jean takes you and his dog out to the levee and puts you in his ball caps and follows behind you on your scavenging expeditions for little rocks and snail shells

you get sunburnt and jean has to rub aloe on your back and bandage up your foot because you stepped on a piece of glass :(

jean loves how pretty and small you are in comparison to him. youre like a frail little bird in the palm of his hand he's meant to take care of and nurture. he likes how he pick you up and bend you in half and hold you whenever he wants

whenever jean is driving and you see a hurt wild animal like a possum or a bunny you make him pull over and take it to the vet

jean carries you in the pool and he listens to you ramble on about how you had a dream last night where you were shipwrecked and got rescued by a mermaid that looks JUST like jean and hes just humming and listening and smiling trying not to doze off while you float w him because hes just so relaxed and grateful to have you <3

jean lets you do his skincare because hes so fascinated by your products that cover the bathroom sink (he accidentally eats your moisturizer somehow??) so you sit on his lap, put a headband on him to pull back his hair, and slather his face in cleanser but you keep getting distracted by kissing him that you dont wash it off

jean has to hold you down and clip your long jagged toenails because they keep scratching him in his sleep

when you try to dom him he thinks its the cutest thing ever. he says "yes ma'am" like a gentleman and gets on his knees to eat you out. he likes to do it against a wall so you're like sitting on his shoulders

"you've got me on my back, baby, now what re you gonna do about it?"

"oh, you need to cum? i think i can help you if you let me baby"

"thats it, thats it, keep ridin' it just like that. ride it like its yours"

jean helps you ride him the first few times and then you get fussy when he tries to grab your tits so you push his hands down and tell him no touching otherwise he can cum all by himself >:)

you lay jean on his back and make him jerk off while your teasing him with kisses and he get so frustrated, he knows stronger than you and all he wants to do is grab you and put you on your back and force you to take it but he knows if he does youll be mad at him :(

at the bar, jean gets hit on by girls all the time and hes trying not to be an asshole but he'd rather take off his own belt and choke himself with it than interacting with any other woman that isnt you <3 so he tells these women hes married and to SCRAM BEFORE HIS WIFE GETS HERE (youre at home rearranging your shell, bone, tea herb, and rock collection on the dresser)

you guys arent married yet but he refers to you as his wife when youre not around <3

[tiffsturniolo]

DO I WANNA KNOW?

-m.s oneshot

a/n: first fic 😝 probably gonna be bad as im not a good writer and i cant spell, pleaseeee gives any tips i wont be offended

warnings: mentions of kissing, hickeys, slightly suggestive if you squint, short asf, cringe

youve been friends with the triplets for as long as you can remember. you grew up living across the street from them so you would always play out and go round each others houses. highschool would not have been the same without them, most of your memories are from your teenage years.

however recently… well no. not recently. 3 years ago the middle triplet, matt, developed a particular liking towards you. it started when he thought you liked him in lockdown. you did, though you quickly got over that small crush as you realised he’d never like you back, hes like a brother.

when matt correctly assumed you liked him, it made him see you in a different way. a not- friendly way. he even realised how pretty were compared to most people hes met in his life.

matts not the type guy to let go of his feelings and his small crush in lockdown developed to a three year obsession with you. you were his drug.

now, he’d be surprised if he could go a night without having a dream about you. whether it was a dream about you finally becoming his girlfriend, or a dream where your both cuddled up in bed, or even a dream where you were doing something else in bed. he couldn’t get you out his mind

ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

anywhere he’d go he’d think of you. he could go to a shop and see you favourite drink and instantly think of you. he even found the song “do i wanna know” by the Arctic monkeys and he thinks it represents your guys’ relationship pretty well. its his new favourite song.

cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat

he was sat with his brothers and you on his couch, watching “let it shine”, (the best Disney movie ever).he wasn’t really watching it, from where he was sat he had a perfect view of your side profile. your hair messily tucked behind your ears as your eyes are glued to the screen in-front of you. you were as stunning as a summers day.

he can only hope, wish, pray, dream that you feel the same way as you maybe did 3 years ago. he wants to ask, he wants to know if you still feel the same way but hes scared of making it awkward or even losing the friendship you have now.

Do i wanna know? if this feeling flows both ways?

he watched the way you licked your lips, and how gracefully they moved as you spoke to chris. they look so soft.. so red.. he can only imagine how they’d feel on his, moving harshly against each other as your tongues battle for dominance.

his eyes wander down to your neck, visualising the array of purple marks he could leave on its blank canvas. he imagines the delicate moans coming out your mouth as he marks you. he imagines the-

“what are you looking at?” you say, consciously wiping your mouth as you think maybe youve got some left over popcorn on your lips.

im sorry to interrupt its just im constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you

matt suddenly gets up and plods over to you. he thinks about grabbing your wrists and pulling you to his bedroom but shook off that idea. instead, he just asks “do you wanna come to my room?”

you look at him, at the tv, then back at him. you shake you head. “its just about to get to the rap battle” you explain

matt sigh, realising he’s gonna have to take a different approach “why dont you come to my room, we need to talk”

you stare at him blankly. he’s never like this. what have you done? did he find out you stuck gum under his gaming chair? “okay”

you get up and follow matt to his room, turning back and shrugging at chris and nick on the way. the only thing is, their smirking, not confused. they know something.

when you get to matts room he instantly shuts the door behind him, pacing around the room frantically. “do you like me?”

you stare at him, dumbfounded. did you hear that right? the truth was, you do. you do like him but for 3 years you’ve forced yourself to push your feelings deep down into the ground. “what.”

“fuck-“ he mumbles hectically as he strokes his hand through his hair. his heart was beating like a wild animal, trying to escape his cage- like chest, screaming at him to shut up. “do you like me? cause i need to know if you like me back so i dont have to waste my days painfully wondering if you do”

but i dont know if you feel the same as i do

you don’t know what to say. for most parts of you, your shocked. this is the last thing you expected him to announce. but there’s a tiny, minuscule, petite voice in the back of your brain telling you to just walk up to him and kiss him right now. and you listen to that voice, it is what you’ve been secretly wanting for 3 years

you step towards matt and kiss him. not for long, maybe around two seconds before you pull away and stumble back. your eyes widen and your lips part, as if you were almost stunned by your own actions.

matt on the other hand looks dumbstruck. he was staring at you like you just explained trigonometry to him. he instantaneously shakes himself out of his trance, remembering where he was. he takes a step towards you and kisses you back hesitantly

you instantly return the kiss, resting one of your hands on his upper arm and the other through his hair. the feeling of your lips colliding feels euphoric, perfect, right.

matt briefly pulls away for air and looks down at you, wrapping his arms around you. “what soo are we like-together now?”

we can be together if you wanted to

a/n: omgg first fic. can you tell i wrote the end bit on a coach when i was half asleep? i know its cringe but im proud of it

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 12

Author's Note: This has literally just been sitting in my drafts waiting for me to get my thoughts in order. I got sick and hit with a massive writing slump and I started doubting where I wanted to take this, but I think I've got it now. Thank you all for your patience, I swear this will end up a finished fic eventually.

Summary: This is literally just angst,

Content Warnings: Some cursing, a little suggestiveness

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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

There is no sunlight in this world of stone, and yet you know, sense it somehow, that wherever it is above your head, it’s changed. You feel the thrum of its absence in the walls, in the floor, in your bones. It is different and it is entirely your fault.

The familiar stone walls crack when you brush your fingertips, no, not fingertips, claws now, over the walls; the floor shakes with every step you take deeper into the mountain. 

“Death,” a voice calls, a whisper on an ether of a new wind, twining around your body. It calls to you as if that is your name, has always been your name, there has never been anything else. “Come.”

You follow the voice through familiar and strange halls, the world of stone crumbling apart around you until you get your glimpse of the ruined world outside. The sun has turned the world blood red, the air dead in your lungs and yet you throw your head back and take a satisfactory breath of it. Good. This world deserves to burn and die. 

“Come.” The voice, a male’s you think, though the distorted echo might prove otherwise,  pulls you deeper still, until you stand beside a ruined throne, the Mountain now wholly rubble around you. Splattered across the throne, crimson seeping across the stones, the crumpled bit of a rusted chain still clutched in her broken fingers, lies Amarantha. Her black eyes remain open, face twisted in a perpetual scream, though her head now lays separate from her body, much as the twins had been.

You step over the remains, broken bones crunching under your heel as the voice prompts you further. The further you go, the more bodies litter the floor. A flash of red hair beneath the rubble: Eris. A shock of blonde dripping blood impaled on some wood: Tamlin. You drag your claws over their remains and their mangled bodies turn to ash on the wind.

“Death.” If anything lives around you, it withers and dies as you approach, until you crest a hill made entirely of bones. A top the hill, upon a mound of skulls sits a massive, black cauldron. From its mouth swirls tendrils of ancient green magic that splash over the edge, hissing and bubbling like a living thing.

“Hello, Sweet Harbinger,” the cauldron whispers. “Come closer, Lady of Bloodshed.”

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing the lip, the metal biting into your palms.

“Closer, Little Death, let me free you,” it prompts, the magic within swirling over the edge to splash your hands, leaving pinpricks in its wake. “Let me make you all you’re meant to be.”

You wake up screaming, hands clutched to your chest, the ice in your veins nothing to do with the chill of the Mountain. The last remaining pull of the dream clings to your consciousness, makes you push yourself back against the bed frame, trying to escape.

Rhys is up in a flash, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into his chest, making soothing noises, even as he brushes a mental talon against your shields. You shiver in his grasp, trying to catch your breath, to shake the vision from your mind.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “You’re ok. I’ve got you. You’re ok.” He lets himself into the nightmare and you make no attempt to stop him because there’s no way you’ll be able to explain how real it had felt. When he’s done, he shuts the door and locks it, so that your mind can quiet.

“It’s just a dream,” he soothes, hands stroking your bare sides.

“What if it’s not?” You whimper into his chest. You’re both still completely bare from the events of the night, having fallen asleep still holding each other.

Rhys continues to rub shapes into your skin as he mulls it over, trying to find the right answer to appease you, even though you know he’s aware it’s a possibility.

“My father,” you press, mind spinning with all the things this could mean. “You said my father started looking for me recently. Why now? What does he need me specifically for that he didn’t need decades ago?”

“I don’t know,” Rhys admits quietly, like he’s ashamed to even say it.

“The twins mentioned he wanted to get through the Wall,” you explain, “but they never found a spot big enough. Are there other ways to bring it down?”

Rhys stills, even as your mind continues to spin. “The Cauldron… it’s been missing for centuries… if he’s been looking for it, if he finally found it…?”

“He’d have to have found all the missing pieces,” Rhys tries to assure you.

“But if he has?” You return.

“He could do just about anything with it.”

“And my uncle never seemed to think that I needed to train my powers because they would just click, but what if he wasn’t worried about them because he knew there wasn’t something strong enough to fully activate them?”

When he doesn’t answer, you tilt your head back to look at him. “Dagdan said…” you shutter as you try and find the words. “He said Hybern specializes in breaking people like me. Like my mother.”

He brings his forehead down to rest on yours, trying to comfort you. “And Amarantha said she’d been wielded in battle. Could this, my dream I mean, be how he did it? How he plans to do it to me?”

Rhys cups your face and kisses the tip of your nose. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You drag your hand over his, comforted by his warmth and the assuredness he floods down the bond. “We have time,” he insists. “Before he gets here, we have time to get ahead of him, to keep him from ever getting his hands on you. Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”

You tilt your head up to kiss him, gently at first, and then a little more desperately, trying to distract yourself from the panic building in your chest. He continues to flood the bond with soothing thoughts and lets you distract yourself with more kisses and touches, does his best to chase away the lingering fears, and you shut out your questions as he rolls you onto your back. 

You have time.

You have time.

You have time.

---

Rhys is gone when you awake, his side of the bed cold. You drag yourself into the tub, hoping the warm water will ease the tension returning in your muscles. 

It is strange to be back here. What once was a cage now feels like a luxury, your muscles partially stiff from the shift from hard floor to mattress, as lumpy as it is. You’re more used to the icy bite of stone than you should be. At least the bruises dotting your hips and throat are from something other than being thrown around by a monster in a Pit, but the clink of the collar still reminds you that you’re not free. It’s just a larger cage and it’s keeping you right in your father’s reach.

You climb from the tub and towel off hurriedly. Perhaps, before anyone realizes the door to your cage is unlocked, you can find something useful. That book Rhys had left you should still be tucked into your bed frame if you can find your way back, you can start there. 

Your only clothing options are the sheer slip of a dress from last night and Rhys’s discarded jacket, and you slip into both of them as quickly as you can, before ensuring there’s a glamor over the bargain marks on your skin. Both of them. The twining line of stars swirling across your palm is sure to attract notice. 

The door is ridiculously loud in the stillness of the Mountain and you see now why Rhys always winnows inside instead of using the door, but you don’t have the time to figure out how to do that now. You get it open a crack and slide your way out before wrangling it shut, body tense the whole time. It’s not like you’re trying to escape or anything, but you’ve never been given the freedom to roam and you can’t jeopardize losing it now.

The hall is different from any of the ones you’d seen previously, the floor covered with an old, but still ornate rug the color of wine. A few tapestries, fading with age, line the walls, depicting great battles from the early ages of the fae. There are other doors along the hall, each a bit more decorated than the last, some with sentries standing out front. 

The hall is as dim as the others, at least, allowing you some shelter in the darker corners to observe and calculate your best course of action. Heading left takes you down at an angle, where the hall abruptly ends with a set of double doors marked with a blazing sun emblem and a single sentry. The Lord of Day’s quarters most likely, and though Eris had claimed Helion was with you, you’ve never actually met the male, and can’t risk being caught near his door.

Down the right side of the hall, past a curve in the wall is another set of sentries, guarding a door marked with apple trees, the leaves a dazzling array of red and orange, though the fruit they bear has mostly fallen and turned to mush at the base of the pots. The High Lord of Autumn has favor with the Queen, and it shows. Worse yet, to get away from this wing of the Mountain, you’ll have to walk right past the sentries, both of which are sharpening already pointed daggers. Not Amarantha’s men, at the least, but that doesn’t mean you can get past them uninterrupted.

At the very least, the Lord of Autumn is going to know where you’d come from, considering you’re wearing Rhys’s jacket. Even with the darker shades of the Mountain’s colors, no one’s going to think the black leather is anything else than the High Lord of the Night Court’s.

You chew on your thumbnail, thinking hard about your options. The guards show no sign of leaving, and the torches anchored to the wall above Autumn’s door leave you no place to sneak past. 

What would your mate do if he couldn’t winnow around them?

You draw a shaky breath and square your shoulders. Rhys would waltz right past, hands in his pockets, the picture of bored elegance. He wouldn’t need anyone to tell him what his place in the world was, he commanded the respect of everyone around him by knowing exactly who he was and where he belonged. If he was your equal, then you should be able to do the same. 

At the very least, the collar might get you passed without incident, because you’ve now been claimed very publicly as Amarantha’s feisty little pet.

You swallow your pride and tuck your shaking hands into the pockets of Rhys’s jacket and walk right past, chin up, pretending you don’t even see them.

“Hey, doll, where you coming from?” One of them whistles at you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he calls after you. “I just want to talk.”

“Dude,” the other hisses at him. “You really want the sloppy seconds of Amarantha’s whore?”

You’re seeing red; talons biting through your nail beds, and it takes everything in you to not turn and slash your claws through the male’s eyes. How does Rhys take this all the time? He never lets it hit him, just keeps walking, and you force yourself to do the same. You only manage to get around the corner by telling yourself that, when this is over and there’s no danger in showing your claws, you’ll come back and make him regret every word. 

The hall ends in a staircase and you go down a level and peek your head out, checking for any familiar signs, but see none, so you go down another level. If Amarantha’s rooms are at the highest point, then maybe she keeps the rooms organized by rank, so yours should be a couple floors beneath these. You make sure to draw a little tally mark into the dirt on the walls so you remember how to get back as you descend lower. Six floors down, you finally find a hall with claw marks scratched into the wall.

It feels like a lifetime since you’d been in this part of the Mountain. 

The marks lead you back to a very familiar door and you push it open as quietly as you can. There’s no light anymore, now that no one occupies the space and you take a second to let your eyes shift into something that can see more clearly before creeping towards the abandoned bed. Sure enough, Rhys’s book on Death Gods and Goddesses is still tucked between the headboard and the frame and you slide it into Rhys’s coat pocket before turning back towards the door.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice calls from the dark corner of the bathroom and you can’t stop the scream that tears from your throat.

Light flickers to life on the bed side table and you have no choice but to throw a hand up to shield your eyes. Footsteps draw nearer and you back yourself up until your legs hit the bed.

“My spies told me you’d be one of two places,” the voice continues. It’s male, deep, a little gruff. The scent of warm metal and fighting leathers drifts your way. “I’m disappointed to see you’ve debased yourself with that Night Court whore.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You snarl, tearing your hand away from your eyes, ignoring the slight burn. 

The male before you looks strikingly familiar, the slicked back hair a twin to your cousins’, the same dark eyes and sharp features, the same armored chest plate and sigil above the heart. 

The male before you smirks as he watches your attitude shift from aggression to horror. “Hello, daughter.”

You’ve never been so well aware of your own heartbeat in your chest. “You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you whisper in disbelief. This can’t be happening to you! You were supposed to have more time!

“And that’s exactly why I’m here now,” he says, stepping closer.

You back away, putting the bed between the two of you. You have to get out of here, have to find help. “What do you want?”

He puts a gloved hand over his heart. “To see you, of course. You were so small last I saw you.”

“Why now? You never bothered before.”

“When I lost your mother…” he says, dark eyes sad. “I lost a piece of myself. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave her tomb. By the time I pulled myself together, all traces of you had vanished. I searched, I sent my Ravens, but it has been some time since I even dared hope you were alive.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that you learned the truth right as you intend to start a war,” you hiss. “And you’re fresh out of death gods to wield.”

“You say wield as if you are a tool,” he returns. “As if I don’t intend to set you up to rule as my only heir. I want you seated at my side. Do you think I intend to let Amarantha rule these lands? Lands that have belonged to our people for centuries? She is a pawn.”

This is a trap somehow. “You mean to kill her?”

“I expect you to do that,” he says, his gaze lowered like he can see right through the jacket to where the bargain mark lies. “You’ve already set those pieces in motion.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” you counter.

“Lying is beneath you, daughter.”

“Stop calling me that!” You snarl. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“You cannot change what you are, Y/N,” he steps slowly around the bed and you have no choice but to back yourself up into the corner to get away. “And I worked very hard to make you what you are.”

“You didn’t make me anything,” you hiss, fangs threatening to poke out. 

“Do you know how many goddesses I had to go through to sire an heir? Do you know how hard it is to make something like you? I spent centuries moving pieces into place until I found exactly what I needed.”

Claws and fangs tear free, as if your powers have taken control, and you swing as hard as you can at his face. “You vile fucking bastard!” 

Despite the gray appearing in the edges of his hair, Hybern is no feeble old man, he snags your wrist and spins, yanking your arm behind you back hard enough to wrench it from it’s socket. His free hand snags the chain around your neck and holds, locking you in place.

“Everything I have done has been for our people,” he says through his teeth. “Everything we will do will be for our people. We have had to live in the dark with nothing for centuries! Prythian abandoned us. And we will take back what we are owed, that is your birthright and your destiny.”

You slam your other elbow as hard as you can into his chest plate after several failed attempts to twist around and sink your fangs into his throat, but the metal of his armor shields him. “You don’t know anything about me! I won’t help you in this stupid world domination bullshit!”

“I’d hoped that you were smart enough to navigate Amarantha’s little court on your own. I gave you time to step into yourself, send the twins to test you. It was my hope that your mother’s spirit would carry on in you, but it seems your uncle has snuffed that out.”

You reach for that bridge between your mind and your mate’s, desperate. “Rhys!”

That dark, obsidian power slithers across the bond, sliding into your mind so easily now.

“It seems I’ll have to find other ways to convince you to see reason, daughter,” Hybern snarls.

“Darling, what’s-” He doesn’t have time to finish before the world starts moving past in swirling colors and roaring wind, as Hybern winnows you both out of the Mountain.

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

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[madwomansapologist]

forever in this twilight

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More TiefHusbands | AO3

synopsis: Peace is nothing but a concept for the unlucky tieflings refugees, a sweet dream they can never quite reach. Don't matter how much they run, fight, try: the world wasn't build for them. But somehow, in all this mess, you are the most steady thing on their lives.

warnings: zevlor, rolan x druid!tav. backgroung (arabella, kagha, alfira, volo, astarion). is it too obvious that one of my favorite books is "what we owe to each other"? that my life philosophy is "it's our duty as human beings to care for others"? my tav is a menace. she isn't even a durge. yes, she licked the dead spider. yes, she did it twice. she's just like that. is it too obvious i am the eldest daughter?

Elturel was left far behind, forever in their memories but never again able to reach their bodies, but its fires anticipated their every movements.

It made foes out of strangers, turned welcoming druids into a threatening force, transmuted safe paths until they were nothing but darkness and fear. The world turned its back against those who only asked for help, as if even the blood running through their veins was cursed.

If they were threatening, they could've understand it. If they were warriors, bandits using brute force to subdue and terrorize others. But that's so far away from the truth. There are kids. Cattle. Aspiring bards, studious wizards, naive lovers.

They have souls, goddsammit. Even when some assume they don't. They look different, are different. Does it matter? From where they are or who's blood started their lineage? Where it matters tieflings are just the same. They feel rage, happiness, pain. Have hunger, desires, needs. When a tiefling bleeds, isn't it just the same as any other being?

They shouldn't see you treating kids as kids, instead of beasts as some seemed to agree, and get impressed. Or be surprised that you would ever decide to help them on the way. Druids are supossed to understand that all living beings are just another facet of nature, yet they can only remind that you're the first in a long time to act like it.

It's maddening that you're one of the few exceptions on their path. They shouldn't feel lucky for you being nice. People are supossed to care for others. They are supossed to be nice just for the sake of it. Kindness was supossed to be a convention, not a surprise.

The world is supossed to be a lot of things, the reality is often disappointing.

It can be tiring, exhausting even, to always fight. Constantly surviving, never enjoying peace. Earning a place to exist, but never the happiness it should've bring. Zevlor won't stop trying, but he won't last forever.

He's tired. How long has it been since he started feeling like that? Gods knows it was way before Elturel fell. Leading his people, the last thing Zevlor could do was to stop. There's no one going to save them, so he better act.

Except, there was you.

Eating from the corners, you made a difference in their lifes. At the gates, protecting Arabella, saving Mirkon. You convinced Rolan to stay at camp, discovered Kagha's plans, inspired Alfira.

Your influence over their plans and fears felt too close to hope. Like that brief moment at dawn, when sunlight warms the world and yet stars keep on shining. That moment before the world start and cacophony become norm.

The way you talked like you knew they would make to Baldur's Gate, like they had no option but suceding. As if you already knew their fate.

You were everywhere. When Zevlor sees Umi running around, when Alfira writes another song, when he has time. He saw you in the repentance glowing in Kagha's eyes, on the attacks to the gates getting less usual, on his people.

Crossing Shadowlands, at the very first moment, Zevlor asked himself what you would do in his place. He followed you, even now that you were long gone. Until the moment he started to question if you were everywhere, or just on his eyes.

Were people always talking about you, or did he only paid attention when they did so?

Lost in the dark, your voice came to him. With his eyes closed, Zevlor allowed himself to wonder about the last good moment he had on his journey. His people celebrating, their heroes being salute, good wine on his cup. And you, beside Zevlor, shining on him.

"And did he," Zevlor gazed at Volo. That man didn't look like a doctor. Or someone sane enough to be allowed near sharp objects. "Got the tadpole out of you?"

"Nah. Just my eye." You took a sip from the bad wine. Astarion warned you about it. "It hurted like hell, but I must say that this new one he gave me is way better."

"You let a bard experiment with your eye?" Zevlor was still in shock about this. "A bard?"

You shrughed it off. "I got curious."

He never laughed so hard. His belly ached, his cheeks were about to fall apart, no air made to his lungs. What a wonderful thing you are. How could you made him forget about all the things going on and just laugh? A real, deep laugh.

A beacon surrounded by darkness, that's what you were.

Your presence was a antidote for some, and for others it was worse than poison. It was a reminder of what happened and what could've. A neon sign of their mistakes and regrets. Of what they could've be and what they should've.

Rolan hated that you continued to smile. That you said you were sorry when he treated you like shit. That you didn't fought him back. That you didn't tried to embarrass or humilliate him.

Or maybe he hated how you had hound dogs following you around all the time. The fact people seemed to enjoy your presence. Don't they see you were the reason why they're here? That you were the one trying to change everyone's mind? That his brothers might die and it is all your fault?

And there was also your talent to hate. The fact nature gave in to your commands. That you could control it, even when darkness seemed to want nothing but kill everyone there. That you were taught, properly.

Or how it would be so much easier if you didn't continue trying to look like someone good. If you didn't opposed the Absolute, if you haven't promised to find his siblings, if everyone else around him didn't seem to idolatred you.

Or maybe Rolan just hated that, doesn't matter how much he tried, he couldn't just hate you.

It wasn't really your fault. He knows that. Shadowland was here, and it would've affect his plans of running away faster just as easily.

But damn, he wants to hate you. It would be so much easier if he did. He wants to have something to direct his anger. Someone that he could see hurt. Someone to blame for the rest of his life.

If they die, if that ever happens, what will be of him? The death of parents is expected, a lover can be forgotten or replaced, even a child lost would hurt him less. Who could ever grown him new siblings? Who could ever replace his mirrors and opposites? They are one and the same.

Would he even be able to call himself a brother? Who lost a husband becomes a widow, who lost a parent becomes an orphan, but what do you call someone that lost a sibling?

Rolan acted as if you hadn't just sat beside him at the bar. Maybe that would make you go away. If you're denied of attention, you probably will look for someone willing to lick your boots to prove their gratitude.

Of course he was wrong.

He just didn't expect to you to not say a single thing. You didn't even looked at him. You just stayed there, drinking something that smelled horribly, until the bar closed. When it did it, you headed back to camp.

And you kept on doing this. You sat there with a drink your hands. Rolan kept on being quiet, only moving to get something else to fill his cup. Days passed, and no words were exchanged between you both.

He was the first to break the untold law shared by you. "What are trying to do, oh hero?"

You finished your beer, then looked at him. Sarcarm, wow.

"Why?" He tried again, this time less inquiring. If it was even possible.

"You look lonely," you answered. "And I need silence."

Rolan tried to think of something else to say, but no words made to his mind. "Why?"

It took you another glass to answer him. "I don't think I will make it out of here. This place is... hungry. I feel like being a bug inside a monster's belly. Nothing I do is enough."

Rolan reached for a drink on the higher shelf. Even its bottle looked like it would be enough to kill someone of drunkenness. He filled your empty glass. "Don't be stupid."

Damned be you. Now Rolan needs to find someone else to hate.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’SGATE3TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[tinandabin]

I remembered my kny modern au aka the characters in our world. Now this but with SAGAU.

Getting you in their world somehow wasn't much possible. And that broke their heart in several ways. Like, c'mon? They can't be with their creator? Bullshit. So what do they do? Obviously, find a way in your world. You will be there to guide them, right?

And boy when they do get in our world, it's just CHAOS.

Because look, your apartment can't fucking fit so many people!! And first of all, how are they even here? You go and search up 'GENSHIN IMPACT' on Google only to see 'No results found. Try another term?'

Now they are in your world and everything related to them is deleted. Meaning, if you try and talk to someone about this fever dream, you'd probably get admitted to an asylum. Now the question arises, why did they even come here? Does it look like you are their creator??? Like bro. Grow another pair of eyes and look properly.

The characters have never been SOOO shocked before, what do you mean people don't worship you in this world? How dare they? Do they even realise whose presence they are in? You are the creator; why are you living in such conditions? This is simply put, absurd.

But then imagine you explaining how your world works. Like, yeah, you gotta go to this building called 'school' as a child and teenager, where many people of similar ages are present and get taught stuff. You eat at a specific time and follow a strict timetable, also you gotta ask to pee and all. No— it's not a prison, you answer when they say it's prison.

How much Mora do you make? They ask. Your answer. Mora? Babe, that doesn't exist here. Every country has a different currency.

It's fucking chaotic. Imagine Zhongli as a Starbucks barista. OR OR, Venti as a pizza delivery. Idk why it's just hilarious to imagine them as ordinary people. Ei working as a chef— Dont even get me started on this. She would get fired so fast. And Nahida is the luckiest Archon, I mean she looks like a child so it would be illegal for her to work or you'd get charged with Child Labour LMAOOO.

THE FATUI?? OH GOD THE WHIPLASH IN THE TREATMENT THEY WOULD GET HERE. Scaramouche going "Who gave you right to say my name?" And people replying with "Get over yo entitled ass emo boy" IDNUSBA

But I can imagine Signora being a model. Like seriously tho. WHAT IF THE HILICHURLS ALSO GET TRANSPORTED?? This post is such a train-wreck help.

But hey, at least you would have tons of people working for you so you would be rich so soon. Sweet.

MASTERLIST

[sxcret-garden]

ღ NCT Dream Jeno x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~2.5k ღ genre: college AU, roommates AU, a bit of humor if you squint, smut ((subby) perv!Jeno, a bit of humiliation, handjob (idol receiving), masturbation, voyeurism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms) ღ warnings: none ღ prompt: “How many times have you jerked off to me?”

It’s a Thursday afternoon like any other - you arrive at home at around 4pm after the end of your last class, you’re slightly exhausted from having a busy day, and you’re craving nothing more than some alone time with your laptop and some comfort food.

Except that you didn’t expect to hear your roommate moan your name upon entering your shared flat. You think you misheard it at first - maybe you’re more tired than you thought and you’re so out of it that you’re having hallucinations? - but then you hear it a second time. Jeno, most likely in his room, is calling out your name loud and clear, followed by a groan that causes blood to rush to your cheeks. You’re a little embarrassed about it at first, but at the same time you find it strangely amusing. And so, you make the most immoral decision in a while, and you draw closer to his room as quietly as possible to eavesdrop.

“Mmmh… feels so good, Y/N…” you hear him mutter. “Your pussy… so tight…” You raise your eyebrows as you're caught off guard by the dirty things leaving his mouth, but at the same time a huge grin appears on your face. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he’s into you - you’ve known that something’s up for weeks, and even your friends who occasionally come over when you’re both home have noticed that he has a crush on you. He hasn’t made any clear advances on you though, and neither would you for as long as you’re stuck living under the same roof. You don’t mind that he obviously treats you differently than his other friends, that he smiles more to himself when he’s around you and that sometimes he stares at you a little too long when he thinks you’re not looking. However, the thought of attempting to date someone you’re already living with would’ve never crossed your mind either.

And still, here you are now, listening in on Jeno getting himself off to what you assume is a very detailed fantasy about you, and you’re somehow not repulsed by that at all. And so you bite your lip in excitement as you hear him groan your name over and over again, spelling out bits and pieces about the mental image in his head. 

“Ride me… yeah… just like that…” An uncontrolled moan escapes him, making you think he’s about to cum, and you wonder whether you should announce your presence before, after, or not at all. “Ah… your tits… I love your tits bouncing like that…” And then it happens. You crack up. You make a noise. And at the same time he stops making noise altogether. You’ve given yourself away, and in order to spare him the suspense that you imagine is killing him at this very moment, you step through the half open door. Standing in his doorframe now, your gaze finds his huge hand wrapped around his cock in all its pre-orgasmic glory, and then also his wide open eyes, quivering lips, and deep red cheeks. He gapes at you, opening and closing his mouth like a fish under water, and you almost feel a little sorry for him.

“Excuse me, but would you let me in on the fun or am I supposed to keep pretending I’m not here while you’re getting off to my bouncy tits?” Jeno remains speechless. You’d have thought he’d immediately try to hide, try to talk himself out of this situation, but none of the likes. He just keeps sitting there, at the edge of his bed, frozen. 

“What day is it?” That’s the first thing he says when he finally speaks.

“Thursday?”

“Fuck. Sorry. Oh my god. I thought it was Friday. Shit.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you lean against the doorframe. Friday is when you would’ve had an evening class, so it makes sense that he thought he’d be undisturbed for another while. However, this also makes another burning question arise - almost as burning as Jeno’s deep red ears.

“How many times have you jerked off to me?” Jeno looks around the room, obviously in a panic, and somehow his hand is still wrapped around his exposed dick.

“U-uhm… like… today?”

“Lee Jeno, my god. I didn’t think you were such a huge pervert.”

“I… I’m sorry?” Now he grins abashedly, like a five year old boy that has just been caught preparing a prank on someone, which makes quite the contrast to the rest of the position he’s in.

“At least it’s not on my bed…” you comment, and when he seems to run through another circle of internal panic at your words, you immediately brush them off, gesturing wildly. “You know what? No, let’s not talk about this.” Though, if you’re perfectly honest with yourself, on second thought it somehow turns you on to think he’s secretly snuck into your room just to get off on you there.

“I… can I have a minute or two? And then we uh… talk about this?” Your roommate gives you an apologetic yet mischievous grin, and you profusely shake your head.

“No. No, you can not have a minute or two.” And then you push yourself off the doorframe, and you take a few steps to his bed until you’re standing right in front of him. You see him gulp as he looks up at you, and a single drop of sweat makes its way down the side of his face. Perking up an eyebrow, you slip out of your shirt, throwing it to the ground somewhere next to you. 

“So… how many times?” You pose the question once again as you put your hands on his shoulders, and a knee between his legs. 

“T-today it’s… the first time…”

“And overall?” You lean in and you let your lips ghost over his neck. “Be good and tell me the truth.”

“U-uhm…” Jeno stutters, unable to bring himself to answer. You find it kind of cute, and when you nip at the skin below his ear and you let a palm glide down the shirt covering his stomach, he becomes even more flustered. You decide to tease him for a while, running your fingertips back up and raking them into his hair as you take your sweet time scattering kisses all over his neck. He leans his head back a little, allowing you better access, and you have to grin at how needy he is.

“Been close?”

“Huh?”

“Were you close to having an orgasm when I barged in?” you clarify, and you lift your head to get a good look at his face. 

“I-…”

“Just tell me. Maybe I’ll help you out a bit…”

“V-very close…” He’s still embarrassed that you caught him. You can tell by his stammering and by the way his cheeks are still dusted pink, but when you put your hand over his, slowly sliding it towards the tip of his cock in order to take over for him, he relaxes with a sigh.

“Now… how many times?” You stroke him slowly, watching him melt under your touch with a groan.

“F-faster…” he mutters under his breath, and you huff.

“Then answer my question.”

“A few times…?”

“Oh really?” You apply some pressure when going over his tip, and another desperate gasp escapes him.

“M-maybe every Friday… for… some time…”

“You are such a perv,” you say, but at the same time you speed up the movement of your hand. Jeno throws his head into his neck with a groan, digging his fingernails into the bedsheets at his sides.

“I heard you call my name too,” you say. “Wanna let me hear that again? Right in front of me?” If looks could kill you’d be dead by now, but when you cock your head to the side and you stop moving your hand, he’s quick to give in.

“Y/N…” he moans, “keep going. I’m begging you…” You smirk at his request, and you give him what he wants.

“It’s really cute how much control you can have over a guy once you have his dick in your hand.” You say that, not thinking much of it, but it seems to be doing something for him, as he squeezes his eyes shut and moans your name again.

“Y/N… I’m gonna-” His load spills into your hand as he clenches his teeth and a strained groan escapes his throat. You stay like that for a few seconds, drinking up his blissful expression that none other than you is responsible for, and then you get up to grab a tissue from beside his bed to clean yourself up.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry, I-” Jeno gets ready to apologize, pulling his pants back over his softened dick, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“What are you doing?” you ask, unzipping your jeans and slipping out of them. “I’m not doing this for free. Also, I thought you wanted me and my bouncy tits to ride you?” He blushes again at how nonchalantly you say this, but when you also rid yourself of your underwear, now standing completely naked in front of your roommate, he merely gapes at you in disbelief. 

“Get naked,” you prompt. “Or are you telling me you’re gonna miss out on this chance?” Jeno doesn’t think twice, and he hastily slips out of all his clothes as you watch him with a victorious smile on your lips. You let yourself marvel at his toned, well-trained body, and once he sits down on his bed completely naked, you crawl on top of him, pushing him back into the blanket by his shoulders. 

“Now, tell me again what you almost got yourself off to.” Again, he’s shooting daggers at your wicked grin and your words, but you can also see a certain thrill in his stare as he begins to talk.

“You… on top of me… like right now,” he begins to explain reluctantly as you run your hands down his chest and abs. However, the more your palms roam his body, the more confident he becomes. “I was thinking about you riding me… my hands on your hips, like this.” Jeno grabs your hips at once, giving them a squeeze, and then you allow him to guide them to his core. You roll them in his lap once, and you feel your folds grazing his hardening length.

“You’re already getting hard again just at the thought of it?”

“Aren’t you getting wet at the thought too?” he challenges you, and you can’t exactly deny it. Not when you feel the heat rushing to your core so clearly.

“So? What’s next?” You ignore his attempt at teasing you, and instead you keep rocking your hips, feeling him grow against your slick pussy. He sighs at the friction, and you raise an eyebrow, throwing in, “My boobs?”

“Y-yes…” he answers, and suddenly his stare is glued to your chest. He brings one hand up to squeeze your right tit, and you moan at his touch. It fits into his hand just perfectly, and you too find yourself throwing your head back at the way he gropes you. 

“You’re so perverted…” you hum, and then you lift your hips off him for a second. Aligning yourself with his full grown length, you prepare yourself to take him in. And then you let yourself glide down on him, taking in just the tip to tease him, but in that same moment you can clearly feel just the tip isn’t enough for you either.

“Fuck…” you mutter under your breath, hands propped up on his chest.

“Well, you’re the one currently having sex with that perv, so…” Jeno comments. You come back up, having him slide all the way out, before lowering yourself onto him again. You repeat that process a few times, each time taking him in a little deeper, until eventually you both run out of patience, and he takes control with both hands back on your hips. Guiding you all the way down, you gasp at the way he stretches you out, and Jeno gives you a few seconds to adjust to his size. And then, you begin to bounce on top of him, and you find his lustful eyes fixated on your breasts.

“Perv,” you mutter, but that only seems to turn him on more. 

“You’re enjoying it,” he throws back, and you can only moan in response.

“Maybe…” But who could blame you, when he feels so good inside you, and when his hips meet you so perfectly every time you sink down onto him. You feel him pressing his thumb against your clit, and it causes you to groan, becoming more eager in your movements.

“You gonna get off on that perv’s cock, huh?” Jeno teases you, directing his full focus on pleasing you. You whine in response, feeling your high approaching at light speed. Something about this situation makes you unbelievably horny, but you currently don’t have the means to figure out what exactly that is. Instead, you focus on moving your hips in just the right way to maximize your own pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N… you feel so good…” You moan in appreciation, and through a string of curses falling from your lips, your high crashes down on you. You feel yourself clench around his cock, and your thighs tremble as you keep rocking your hips even past your orgasm. You bring Jeno’s hands up to your boobs, letting him squeeze and play with them as he pleases while an expression of utter bliss appears on his face. 

“Mmhh… this is even better… than I imagined…” he groans through gritted teeth, and now you feel heat rushing to your cheeks as well because of his boldness. You feel him twitch inside you as your hips keep bouncing on top of him, and then eventually he shuts his eyes tightly and grunts your names as he cums inside you.

You crawl off him, knees still shaky, but you do your best not to let him notice. Then, you collect your clothes, tucking them under your arm.

“I’m going shower,” you inform your roommate, who’s following your every move with his eyes. You can tell he’s unsure what to say, and you’re at least as speechless as he is about what you just did, but you’re a bit better at seeming unbothered. You walk out of the room, and just as you’re right in the doorframe, he calls out to you to make you halt.

“We should do that again sometime,” Jeno blurts out, and you fail to suppress a dirty grin.

“Maybe,” you say. “If I catch you getting off to me again I’ll think about it.” You throw him a wink, and before you can fully register the smirk on his face that’s supposed to tell you he’s accepted your challenge, you leave the room for a nice and hot shower.

[beah388love]

The beginning

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist TUA Masterlist

Pairing: Five hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: The beginning, your story.

Warnings: mentions of blood,Murder,reader has powers,angst,brother dies,readers family dies,fighting,death!!! (Please tell me if I missed any!!!)

It all started about 50 Years ago, well 50 years and 2 months ago to be exact. I'll never forget that day, because the day started perfectly normal.

Nobody tells you just how loud the sound of silence is. at that moment, I felt like I could hear everything and nothing at the same time.

———

Aged Eight.

It was around 2-4 in the morning judging by the colour of the dark blue sky outside and she was woken by her dad sprinting out of his room, petrified. She'd never seen him so panicked.

Her first thought was, maybe they were being robbed? maybe someone broke in?

That was until her mum sprinted out after her dad with her brother in her arms. He was limp and blue.

She felt her body stop, she ran over to her parents and reached out to her brother and she'll never forget the feeling of touching his face.

She stood there as her parents panicked and rushed calling the ambulance and once they got there she still stood watching them leave with her brother.

She still had hope though. I mean this stuff only happens in grown up movies? It definitely won't happen to us. Right?

No. Of course not.

Right?

She was taken to her grandparents house and stayed there for a couple hours with her two other brothers.

She sat there on the sofa, watching her grandad pace up and down the kitchen.

But after awhile she sat watching out the window of the front garden. Waiting. Waiting to see her parents again with her brother.

Maybe he was sick? And needed some medicine?

Maybe he needs some cheering up?

We'll make him better. He'll be fine. This is just a really vivid dream.

Not long later she saw her parents arrive without her brother.

Maybe he had to stay at the hospital cause he still needs medicine?

No. All the optimistic thoughts are gone because

she just knew.

She could feel it through the window and across to them.

She just knew.

He's not going to be okay. She felt it.

Her parents came in crying, "he's- he's" they didn't even get the word out and we all knew.

It's not going to be okay.

He's gone.

Forever.

Because that's the thing with time, nothing can buy it or get it back not even the richest or happiest.

But things didn't get much better after that.

———

Aged eight:

Around five months after her brother passed away, all her family were still mourning.

But today her parents both went out to grab some food for her and her brothers.

And once they collected all the things they needed. They left, hopped in the car and drove back home.

But on the way, a drunk driver swerved into the side of their car, killing them both.

She was devastated and it still didn't get better after that.

It actually got worse.

None of her distant relatives wanted to take care over them so her and her two younger brothers all had to go separate ways.

She never saw her brothers again.

She gave them both massive hugs, sobbing as they went different ways.

And your probably wondering 'how does this relate to five Hargreaves?'

The little girl in this story didn't go to an orphanage or a foster home or a happy place at all.

A certain man flew over to England and somehow got the social services woman to give him custody of you.

A man you had never met.

Reginald Hargreeves.

"Come with me, come on now don't hover around." He said sternly not even batting an eye to you.

You followed him still in your nightgown, trying to hide your sobs.

———

"Y/n? Are you listening to me?" Five cut you out of your thoughts as he waved a hand in front of your face.

"Huh?"

"I was saying...If my calculations are correct we can get back all we have to do is get a briefcase." Five said grinning at you near the end of his sentence.

"Oh god, what now?"  You asked tiredly

"Well..i was hoping-"

"hoping I could use my powers?" You cut him off and he nodded with a somewhat pleading grin.

"Alright..but if this time doesn't work I'm gonna kill you myself." You sighed and he nodded behind you grinning as you walked off.

———

After Reginald took you in, he helped you understand your power to great lengths.

"Reality warping".

You can change reality and quite literally defeat the laws of science. However it does come with some cons.

You can only change things you know or can imagine.

You have to be in 'the zone' is what you call it.

And one of the biggest cons is, when you use your power it drains you.

And I mean drains you.

Your energy levels - actually no, all your levels go down.

———

"Go down the left corridor and into the wooden door. And I'll meet you" five whispered and you nodded.

You did as he said and sneakily went into the wooden door, it was a meeting room and If im five was right, it would be filled with people in around two minutes.

You hid behind the door in the corner of the room and waited.

When they began walking in, you sat there and held your feet to your head.

Once you calmed down and focused, all the men began dropping dead.

Once they were all on the floor, five blinked next to you and grabbed a briefcase.

He grabbed your hand and blinked you both back to the middle of nowhere.

"Y/n?  you okay?" He asked you and you nodded tiredly.

"Do ya think it's gonna work?" You asked him breathlessly and he didn't respond.

Your guess was he probably didn't wanna get your hopes up to much.

———

This is my first series so i know It’s probably not the best!!! 🧡💛

[roguelov]

okay one last thought and then I have to go to sleep:

dream and hob teasing and edging y/n all night long while they're in the dreaming, so once they wake up, they're super desperate and horny but have to just go on about their day. as soon as they're back in the dreaming the following night, dream and hob are all over them😋 or maybe they tease them all week, finally getting their release on the weekend👀

*clawing at the walls* god yesssssss … and maybe our dear reader gets fed up in the end 🤭

…

“Look at you,” Dream cooed.

Your back was pressed into Hob’s chest. Your skin was burning up. You gulped down air, trying to say a word but all that came out of a needy whine. Their hands continued to skim all over your body as their lips descended on your weak spots.

“Please,” you managed to stumble out. “More, I - I need you both.”

“I know, love,” Hob whispered in your ear. “But, you just look so lovely right now. Let us have our fun.”

You groaned, writhing against him.

And you would have been there longer if it wasn’t for your damn alarm. You immediately shot up in bed, panting and clutching your sheets. The sensation of their hands and lips still lingered on your skin. You touched your neck where Hob’s lips were just at only to frown. Sighing deeply, you didn’t know if you should be thankful or not for your alarm.

You decided not to dwell too much on it and just go about your day. It was easy to distract your mind, but it was temporary. These feelings would not go away. And the nights were no better. You somehow got trapped between these two men, becoming their toy in a way. Yes, they would touch you, but they wouldn’t ever be enough. You would beg and beg for more, only to be frustrated in the end.

A week’s worth of torment.

By Friday night, you laid down into bed ready for what was to come along with a partial plan in mind.

“Ah, there you are,” Dream’s voice came from behind you.

Blinking, you had to reorient yourself. You were back in the grand bedroom in the Dreaming. And soon, all those memories from all the nights before flooded back. Twisting around, you threw a half-hearted glare at Dream.

“What is with the sour expression,” Dream asked, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Do not play dumb with me,” you huffed.

“Play dumb?” Hob called out, walking out of the bathroom. “What do you mean?”

Again, just how Dream’s eyes held a smug understanding, Hob had to hold back a smile from curling across his lips. You grumbled, “You two with your teasing all this week.”

Hob and Dream smirked.

“Are you frustrated, love?” Hob hummed.

In more ways than one.

“Shall we rectify it?” Dream asked. His arms looped around your waist, pulling you to his chest. He teasingly nibbled on your ear, making you shiver. “Would you like me to drop to my knees for you, my dear?”

You hummed. You liked that idea very much, but you had something a little different in mind. You looked between them, they each noticed a spark in your eyes. Something dangerous and thrilling. “How about instead you two be good boys for me and let me use you?”

Your words instantly made their cocks weep.

You craved your head, looking back at Dream. Your hand caressed his cheek, drawing him down to you. Your lips skimmed over his. “Can you do that for me?”

“I think we can do that,” Dream whispered against you. His eyes caught Hob’s and Hob eagerly nodded.

You pulled away from Dream, “Well it’s not ‘I think’ it’s ’you will’.”

Dream and Hob felt their skin crackle with excitement. “And what will you have us do, love?” Hob asked, his excitement hardly contained.

Your lips curled into a devious smirk. “So so much, my loves.”