#and poking fun at them during fights

[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations

Last month I did an in-depth re-watch of rottmnt s1 to take some notes on writing the characters of rise from their perspective and such. Figured I'd share what I found, but I'm also posting this bc my docs have a nasty habit of blipping out of existence.

We'll start with Raph bc he's the oldest of course, but I'll post the others sep. bc this is gonna get long!!

Raph Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrases: "like a boss", "smash"

Verbalizes his attacks such as "smash", "knuckle sandwich", "power smash jitsu", "tonfa power jitsu", "mystic punch jitsu"

Uses older song titles for surprised exclamations or in place of cursing, most notably "jumping jack flash!"

Uses aave/bae, For example: 'em instead of them, 'ey instead of they, 'cause instead of because, forgoes the g in ing words (going becomes goin')

Uses less and less grammar the more he's stressed, and his voice will come to a higher pitch

Will speak in a softer tone to his little brothers if he's concerned about hurting their feelings. Aka babying them

Mixes up both metaphors and idioms. Would be one to say how the turn tables unironically

Does say "hero" a lot, lost count, especially in phrases like "hero town"

Refers to his brothers as "boys" or "fellas"

Refers to Splinter as "pop(s)" most often

Refers to strangers he's directly talking to as "bubs" or "hoss"

Personality:

Protective of his family

Plays up the hero act/has a strong sense of duty and justice

Impatient, rushes in without a plan (pre-movie), doesn't finish books until the end, falls asleep during "boring movies"

Oblivious, doesn't read into things beyond surface level. Struggles with empathy when something is beyond his understanding, but is still very emotional

Center of responsibility for his brothers, but also has a reckless sense of fun. As long as it's him doing the stupid unsafe thing it's fine

Carries the weight, in a literal sense he piggy backs his brothers, but will also use his body as a shield from danger. Unfortunately this also means he takes his brothers a little less seriously (Mikey the most common victim), and will try and either protect them from everything or as an oldest sibling everything has go "his way"

Doesn't do well in solitude. Needs to be looking after people to feel functional, and needs to be around people to feel safe

Clumsy, "takes horrible pictures", isn't very good at hiding, he's a big guy so it probably took a lot of time to find balance

A sweet guy who still won't shy from making fun of his family. Leo tends to be the brunt of his teasing since he is the most annoying, but he will also poke Donnie on his dramatics

Likes cute things!!! Has a teddy bear collection and loves animals. It's so cool how this isn't played off as a joke and he's still just as masculine for liking pink and cutesy stuff

Likes fighting!!! Gets a lot of energy out defeating bad guys (where he directs his anger towards), the one who is shown to train the most, and also weight lifts in his spare time

Doesn't do well under pressure, here the anger comes out the most. He gets stressed when it's all on him, especially since he tends to mess up the most in these moments

Miscellaneous:

Second to unlock mystic powers

Nicknames/codenames: "raph-a-doodle" by leo, "red rover" by april, "red king" by donnie

Teddy bear names: Doctor Huggenstein, Captain Snuggles, Cheech

Stinks: fear stink, amazement stink, sneaking up on people stink, victory stink

Seems to be less afraid of rabbits and more afraid of puppets

Went on his first solo mission at 13

Cannot lift a bus, at age 15

Thought about discussing fighting style, but I'm not as familiar with that concept and I've seen a couple posts dissecting such topic. So we'll end here for now. Hope this was helpful!!! I'll post the rest of the boys later and link here

Leo is up!!

Donnie is up!!

Mikey is up!!

Splinter is up!!

April is up!!

Cassandra is up!!

Baron Draxum is up!!

[flamingpudding]

How to human

Nightwing was sure he was being watched. He had been in the hero business long enough to recognize that feeling. The little irk, whisper in the back of your mind and the little hairs standing up. He was being watched. A part of him felt honored. He had gotten a little stalker like Tim had been to Bruce once. So, on some days, he made sure to do some extra flips and air acrobatics. No, he wasn't showing off to watchfull eyes, shut up little wing. But whenever he turned to the direction he felt eyes on him, he found nothing. He was worried that he was getting as paranoid as Bruce, but at the same time, he swore that someone had started watching him during his patrols, especially whenever he was in Gotham.

Red Hood grew more and more frustrated as the days passed. This wasn't his first time dealing with little stalker but usually, the street kids of crime alley knew when and when not to follow him around. The kid that was currently following him? The little shit was reckless af. Red Hood going to bust a drug deal? He felt that freaking kids eyes on him. Getting into a fight that ends with a shot out? That little shit was still there watching instead of leaving. But the kid was good, Hood had to admit that. Whenever he turned to scowl the little shit, they were gone. They avoided him the moment he puts his attention on them. But just the kid wait, he will get them one of these days. He was not having as much fun as his brother with his little stalker.

Spoiler preened at the attention she was getting. She had a little stalker! Not Red, not Orphan, not Signal, not Robin but her! She had a stalker of her own. Like Nightwing and Red Hood! There was a little kid interested in her and following her around during patrols. She probably shouldn't, but she did end up teasing the other about it. It most likely wasn't good either, considering all the things that could happen during their patrols. But aside from that it was an interesting feeling to have a little shadow that somehow can avade you. Just like Nightwing and Red Hood whenever she turned around or tried to actively look for her little stalker there was no one. But she knew the kid was there. Compared to the idiot boys Spoiler had gotten some cookies from Agent A to lure out her little shadow. Saddly the kid had been a no show but they did take the cookies when she had looked away for a moment. And a giggle told her that they liked them. She was at least making process in getting to k ow her stalker.

Danny, Dan and Ellie, after decades of having lived among ghosts in the ghost zone when realizing they didn't age like their human family, ended up spit back out to the mortal realm. (Clockwork had gotten fessed up with the Phantom trio and decided HE needed a vacation from them and Frostbite mentioned sending them to the morals would be good for their halfa health. So the decision was made pretty quickly, let the humans deal withvthe ghost kids for a while. He will force the trenchcoat magican, that liked to poke around too much, to check up on them sometimes.) The problem was, they kind of forgot how to be human. So what did they do? Follow around the one human that caught their attention and learn how to human again from them. To bad that the humans that caught their attention happened to be vigilantes and they only ever seemed to be the most interesting when they dress up at night.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | keisuke baji, kazutora hanemiya, manjiro sano, shuji hanma

NOTE | This is really short, I'm sorry! I'm not sure how I feel about it either, but I hope it's not too bad.

— BAJI.

Pretty much everyone in Toman knows Baji has a soft spot for you. They never miss an opportunity to tease him about it, telling him to make the first move, to stop staring like a creep and just ask you out already.

...What they don't know is that you and Baji have been secretly dating for months now.

Though you decided to keep your relationship a secret mainly to keep each other safe and avoid being exposed to unnecessary danger, you both find amusement in keeping your friends in the dark about your relationship. It became like a fun little game between you and Baji, sharing playful glances and knowing smiles whenever the others would tease him about his supposed crush.

You're pretty sure Chifuyu knows the truth, though. There's always a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he might be onto your secret, but he plays along, giving you both a nod of approval whenever he catches the subtle displays of affection between the two of you.

If you eventually decide to make your relationship public, Baji will have a field day teasing his friends for not noticing sooner that you were dating. He won't miss the chance to brag about being the one who won the 'prettiest Toman member's heart, even poking fun at those who once had a crush on you.

— KAZUTORA

In the middle of all those men, it wasn't easy for you to find your place in Valhalla.

You often kept to yourself, feeling like you didn't really belong here. You had effortlessly managed to prove your strength and loyalty to the gang so everyone respected you and treated you as an equal — but it still felt weird to be surrounded with so many men, each more violent and intimidating than the other.

But with Kazutora, there was an instant connection that set him apart from the others.

Before you knew it, you were having secret meetings away from the prying eyes of the gang, and what began as just a friendship soon turned into something more.

Kazutora's affection towards you in public is subtle yet genuine. The two of you always make sure to stand away from each other during meetings and gatherings so as to not awake suspicions, but Kazutora quietly keeps an eye on you from a distance, checking up on you without drawing attention to your connection.

During fights, this protectiveness manifests in small yet meaningful gestures. Even though he trusts in your ability to handle yourself, he'll gladly position himself as a shield between you and any potential threats. He's always ready to divert attention away from you or take the hit in your place —which you often scold him for.

While it goes mainly unnoticed by others you can always tell when he does things for you, just to protect you. Sometimes, you manage to steal a quick kiss from him when nobody's looking, leaving a flustered Kazutora behind you.

— MIKEY.

Mikey is incredibly protective of you, which quickly makes people wonder if there's something going on between you. You both deny it every time, but you're not sure how much longer you'll manage to hide it — you're pretty sure Mikey has already told Draken anyway. (or Sanzu — depends if we're talking about Toman or Bonten Mikey)

It really doesn't help his case that he's always turning down his friend's invitations to hang out in favor of spending time with you. He doesn't explicitly tell them that — and he tries to cover up the fact that he's going out with you by using the excuse of wanting to stay at home and rest— but it doesn't take a genius to figure out his real intentions. It's no coincidence that you and Mikey are always unavailable at the same time.

The gang playfully teases him about his 'resting' time when they see him the next day, not realizing that these moments with you go beyond him simply sneaking away to see his girlfriend.

Your meetings are what keeps Mikey grounded, the very last anchor in his life that prevents him from completely losing himself.

When the weight of the world gets too overwhelming for him to bear, you become Mikey's refuge — the only person capable of providing the comfort he seeks and calming his racing thoughts.

— HANMA.

Hanma is a master at this whole secret relationship thing.

He effortlessly hides his feelings and shows no sign of concern for you, even when you get hurt during a fight or are facing threats from others. To the outside world, he treats you just like any other guy in Valhalla, pushing you to get up and keep fighting —fully aware that you can handle yourself and need no savior.

While he may not shower you with affection in public, there's another side of Hanma behind closed doors that only you gets to see;

As soon as the two of you are alone, he's all over you, always holding you close and kissing you like there's no tomorrow, getting all cocky over the fact that he's the only one allowed to kiss you and touch you like he does.

Of course, don't think he'll let the men who hurt you get away with it.

The next day, Hanma will take the matter into his own hands and seek out whoever hurt or threatened you. He doesn't give any explanation as to why he beats them up, simply brushing it off and telling everyone that he "just felt like it."

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Eleven: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids, exhibitionism? If you squint, cockwarming, crying during sex(not dacryophilia),oral, no condom PiV, protected PiV, dick piercing, knife, blood, violence, gore, murder, drugs, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Ghost has his fantasy fun, Anakin is spiraling, chaos ensues [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Date

August 24th continued

“Shh shhh.” Came from an odd voice, you hadn’t seen your attacker yet, having been swept up from behind.

You kept trying to yell, to spit out the gag as you fought him. His right hand coming back up to hold your head still and your mouth shut.

“Shut up.” He growled. “Just calm down.”

Your muffled words came out angrily, letting whoever had you like this have a piece of your mind despite them being unable to understand a word of it. Even as he started talking again you kept fighting, kept yelling to no avail.

“It’s me.” His distorted voice finally beginning to register. “It’s just me, calm down. It’s Ghost, it’s me.”

“Huh?” It came out as an awkward grunt, but he seemed to understand as you slowly stopped thrashing.

“It’s just me. It’s Ghost.” He repeated, a gentler tone now that you’d begun to calm yourself.

“Just take a deep breath through your nose doll. You’re gonna make yourself hyperventilate.” He chuckled, watching your chest heave with the effort of your labored breathing.

“If I take out this gag will you scream?” He asked, the cool plastic of his mask touching your heated cheek.

You shook your head no, then yes when he asked you to promise to it as well.

He pulled the fabric from your mouth and shoved it in his back pocket, letting you catch your breath while he loosened his grip on you slightly.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You spun around the very second he gave you that bit of freedom and smacked him in the chest while you whisper shouted.

“A lot.” He shrugged, both hands up and out to the side as he tilted his head.

“Don’t be a smartass right now.” You chided.

“I’ll be a smartass whenever I want, princess.” he snickered, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you with him into the recessed entryway to one of the buildings beside you.

“What are you doing?” You squeaked, feeling a bit of panic despite knowing you were still probably… mostly, safe with him.

“Taking these off.” He said, dropping to his knees after pushing your back flush against the wall, yanking your panties down until they pooled at your feet.

“Gods wait! No!” You shrieked, pushing at his shoulders, he stood up immediately and gripped your cheeks tightly.

“I thought you agreed not to scream.” He growled.

“That was before I knew what you were doing!” You argued back, poking him in the chest.

“Shut the fuck up and let me have what I want alright?” He scoffed. “Don’t argue with me.”

“I have every right to argue with-“

He cut you off by shoving the bandana back in your mouth with a disappointed slow head shake and tsk. He flipped out his butterfly knife in a showy spin, ending with the blade pointed down so he could stab and drag the sharp metal through the center of your panties, ripping them off and shoving them and the knife back in his pocket.

“Now, should I get out the tape or do you think you’re capable of behaving like a good girl?” He asked condescendingly, the blacked out eyes of the mask staring up at you as he crouched down again.

You nodded, but he need clarity.

“Yes, you’ll be a good girl?” He asked, receiving a nod in response.

“You won’t touch me?” He asked, you shook your head.

“Not even if I take my mask off?”

That made you freeze, almost gaging on the fabric as you gasped. His mask? He’s taking off his mask? Is he showing you his face?

“Don’t get too excited. You aren’t seeing me.” He laughed, standing up and producing a roll of electrical tape from his pocket.

“Gimme your hands.” He said annoyedly as you jerked away from him. “You hesitated, I’m taping your wrists together.”

“Shame I can’t trust you to keep your promise.” He sighed, flipping you around and taping your wrists together tightly.

“Poor little boyfriend shouldn’t trust you to keep your legs closed either.” He snickered, you could hear the smugness in his tone even through his filtered voice.

You scowled but didn’t make an attempt to fight when he pushed your back against the wall again, dropping to his knees and flipping up the skirt of your dress.

“Leg up little doe.” He commanded, smacking your outer thigh and guiding your leg to hook over his shoulder.

“You make a move to see my face and I’ll send some of those pretty pictures to your boyfriend.” He warned before you felt his mask come off and drop to the pavement.

He took a deep breath in, his nose pressed firmly against your cunt, breathing you in and sighing in relief like a smoker does with the first cigarette on their lunch break. You noticed something then that you’d not had the opportunity to notice before. He had at least one nose piercing, you could feel the hoop dragging across your pussy lip as he pulled away.

Immediately after he went in for what he really wanted. His tongue darted out, licking a long and slow stripe up your core. A gravely tone groaned at the taste like he’d missed it since his last time.

The tip of his tongue circled and teased your clit, flicking over it quickly while his lips wrapped around it with gentle suction. You felt his arms moving and the sound of something else hitting the ground, then two warm fingers pressed against your opening.

Gathering up your slick and spreading it around before gently inserting them, slowly sinking them as deeply as he could. He didn’t pump his fingers like you expected, instead he moved his finger tips in broad swipes back and forth across your spongy front wall. The pressure of it paired with the work of his mouth created a bloom of heat in your stomach, slowly spreading throughout you as he devoured you with expert skill.

You never imagined this was were you’d end up. At no point in your life, not even in your wildest thoughts and dreams would you have guess that you’d be in an alley, hands taped behind your back, gag in your mouth, with a fully anonymous stalker lapping away between your legs.

Even less likely that you would’ve imagined enjoying it.

But damn… you were. You were enjoying it alittle too much, so much that you weren’t sure that the gag would be enough to keep you quiet. Ghost’s free hand slipped farther up your dress and pinched your side with leather fingers to quiet you.

He kept his hand there, squeezing and rubbing his thumb back and forth soothingly, lulling you into a state of relaxation as you let him do all the work. As if sensing your mind wandering off to that lovely little place, Ghost worked alittle faster with his fingers and nibbled ever so gently on your clit as he kept it held captive between his lips.

You’d give anything to have the use of you hands right now, to grip him by the hair and shove his face into you as you ground on him. All you could do was let out a muffled whine and nudge him with the heel of your foot, hoping to pull him closer with your leg.

He obliged but pinched you again just for his own self satisfaction. A humored puff of air leaving his nose when you let out an annoyed grunt, he shut you up quickly by changing his tactics from back and forth to long pressurized circles on your front wall, pressing firmly against it until you shook and whined. Your leg pushing him closer, this time of its own accord as you tensed up.

With nothing to hold onto, no way to disperse your pent up energy, all you could do was buck helplessly against his tongue and fingers, letting out an embarrassingly desperate and muffled scream from behind your gag.

He moaned while removing his fingers and wiped them off on the inside of the back of your dress. Ghost laved at you in long, lazy strokes as he cleaned up your messy cunt and soaked inner thighs.

He reluctantly put his glove back on, as well as his mask, rising up from beneath your skirt to tower over you.

“Turn around, face the wall.” He said, the filter voice low and crackly.

You nodded, obeying immediately and were rewarded with the removal of your bindings. His knife slicing through the tape with ease, after closing it and tucking it away he inspected them to make sure he hadn’t hurt you, letting you have free range of movement after a moment.

Your hand flew to your mouth and you attempted to pull the fabric from between your lips but his firm grip caught your wrist.

“I’ll tape you right back up.” He warned. “I made you scream and I plan on doing it again.”

His chest pressed against your back, pinning you to the brick wall, uncomfortably but not painfully. His mask pressed against the side of your face and one of his hands squeezed and kneaded at your breasts, his other fumbled with his belt.

You heard his zipper come undone just before he flipped up the back of your dress. He dragged his precum covered tip along the soft flesh of your ass, his breathing changing slightly.

“You can take out the gag for now.” He said, watching you pull it out and cough.

“Y-you gotta- just wait-“

“Shhh I’ve got a condom.” He laughed pulling it out and showing you before ripping it open and rolling it on.

“Spread ‘em baby.” He cooed, kicking your legs apart and pulling your waist away from the wall slightly.

“Ghost-“ you breathed out, starting to panic. “Ghost I can’t, we can’t.”

“You can’t, we can’t…” he chuckled. “I can though.”

He hummed, pressing the tip against your dripping entrance, you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing back against him lightly. The movement was almost unconsciously made, but it was enough of an invitation for him to accept.

“Deep breath baby.” He breathed out, pushing inside slowly and letting out a groan that sounded almost pained.

“Oh…” you whimpered, biting your lip. You were determined not to show how much you truly loved the way he fit inside, like he belonged there despite everything else.

“Fuck… this, this is mine.” He growled, thrusting up into you slowly but hard each time his hips met your ass.

“N-no.” You shook your head, a quiet disagreement leaving your lips.

“Seems like it’s mine.” He growled, “Don’t it, doll?” He asked rhetorically, rolling his hips against you to drive home his point.

“Anakin’s.” You whined, clenching your fists tightly as your forearms kept you from scraping against the wall.

He growled but said nothing, just changed pace to a brutal deep stroke that had his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“He f-fucks me better than this.” You gasped.

“Oh does he?” Ghost laughed loudly.

“He does…” you whined as he reached up beneath your dress to cruelly pinch and twist your nipple.

“Shut up before I put that gag back in.” He snapped.

“Jus’ being honest.” Though you couldn’t hide the way your body was responding to him, to the delicious roughness he was treating you to.

“That’s enough.” He barked, his hand leaving your breast to grip your hair tightly, tilting your head back.

“Ow!” You squealed, not expecting him to react like that.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I felt it.” He snickered, smacking your ass as he pointed out how your cunt clenched around him when he tugged your hair.

“But-“

“Close your eyes.” He commanded.

“Wait, why?” You questioned, trying to look behind you.

“Because I fucking told you to.” He snapped, pulling your hair harshly.

You whimpered and complied, feeling a leather hand come up your throat, stopping with two fingers resting on your bottom lip.

“Bite.” His voice so low and sultry the voice modifier struggled to pick it up, the crackle of it, the possibility you might hear his real voice if you could just get him to talk quietly enough, just made you more excited.

You bit down on the tips of the fingers, de-gloving his hand. You were tempted to open your eyes even the tiniest bit, hoping for a fleeting glance of his uncovered flesh. Though he anticipated your thoughts before you could enact them.

His other hand hooked the thumb into the side of your mouth, his palm and fingers splayed out against your face to protect you as he rested the forehead of his mask against your other cheek, effectively pinning your head in place.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached between your legs and pinched your clit, making you yelp.

“Stupid girl.” He laughed. “Just be still and enjoy it.” He groaned, his cock bullying your insides as his fingers did the same to your clit.

“You want to cum don’t you?”

“Uh huh.” You whined, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Then behave.” He growled.

He drilled up into you, the confined space echoing the smacking of wet skin against skin. His breathing heavy, unlike yours that came in short gasps and sharp intakes of air between squeaky whines.

“Listen to you, pretty little moans.” He laughed. ���But you’re pretending you don’t love how I’m fucking you.”

“Acting like anyone else could make you feel like this.” He grunted, punctuating each word with a particularly deep plunge of his length.

“He can!” You whined in protest, squirming beneath him. “Love it when he fucks me.”

“You wanna cum? Keep talking like that and we’ll see how long I make you wait.”

“D-don’t care.” You slurred, his thumb in your mouth making you drool from the side of your mouth.

“Okay.” He laughed, removing fingers from your clit and slowing his thrusting.

“N-no!” You whined, reaching down to grab his hand and stop him. As you gripped his hand you felt two chunky rings on his hand, though you were unable to tell which fingers they belonged to.

“Now you’ve done it.” He growled.

He withdrew from your swollen and needy pussy, hastily pulling up his boxers but not bothering to fix his pants. He twisted you to the side and bent you over, and let go of your face in favor of gripping your hair tightly again.

“Brace yourself bitch.” He growled, his gloveless hand pushing up your skirt again and bringing his palm down on your asscheek hard, a resound *smack* followed by a loud moan that surprised even you.

“Does princess like a little pain with her pleasure?” He teased, bringing his hand down on your ass again.

You didn’t answer, just focusing on biting back another moan when he waled on you twice in quick succession.

“I asked you a question.” He growled, yanking your hair and forcefully lifting your head.

“Yes.” You hissed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the pain, but mostly the humiliation of having to admit that you liked it, that you wanted more.

“Good.” He chuckled, roughly bringing you up to stand on your own two feet again.

Ghost shoved his fist back into his glove with his back to you, wordlessly pointing at the wall. So you obeyed, turning around with your eyes downcast and shameful.

“Lift up your skirt. I wanna see my handprints.” Ghost’s voice came out low and crackly through the modifier.

You did as he asked, both hands pulling up the fabric in the back, exposing the red welted handprint on your right asscheek. He took a sharp inhale of breath as he looked you over, his sneakers crunching on the pavement as crouched down a few feet behind you.

“Say cheese.” He snickered, snapping a picture with the flash on.

“Damn, look at that baby.” He whistled, standing up and pressing himself against your back, his hard cock throbbing through his boxers.

He showed you the picture, the flash showing off the sheen of slick that coated your inner thighs, something he was extremely proud of.

“You should get that tattooed.” He sounded almost serious when he suggested it, only solidifying the sentiment by adding: “I’ll pay for it.”

“Im not getting your handprint tattooed.” You snapped at him.

“No? What about my teeth?” He asked, audibly gnashing his teeth together behind the mask.

“You’re ridiculous.” You scoffed, “I can’t-“

“If you’re gonna be a brat then shut the fuck up.” He growled, shoving the bandana back in your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to pull it out but he only laughed and swatted them away.

“I’ll tape you back up.” He warned you again. “But it’d be a lot easier to fuck you if you could hold on to me.”

He grunted, picking you up and supporting your weight with one arm while his free hand pulled his length back out from his boxers.

“Gonna hold you like this okay?” He said in a gentler tone, spreading your legs wide and out to the sides of your torso, his hands gripping you firmly in the crook of your knees.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna drop you.” He grumbled.

“Now arms up princess.” He commanded, shrugging his shoulders twice to prompt you to wrap your arms around his neck.

“Watch.” He growled, looking down where your bodies would connect, his cockhead sliding back and forth through your slicked swollen folds.

“Gods thats fucking gorgeous.” He groaned, pushing into you slowly.

He was making sure you saw every inch of him disappear inside, the position you were in allowed you to feel, see, and hear everything. Amplifying the squelching of your cunt, providing the perfect angle for him to bully your pussy in just the right ways, and giving you an unobstructed view of your illicit act.

“Been thinkin’ bout fucking you like this for so long.” Not even his modified voice could hide his desperation and longing.

“So goddamn pretty.” He choked out, thrusting up into you, his hips slapping your inner thighs. “All laid out for me, this pretty pussy being so damn needy for me.”

“Look at you.” He breathed out, his voice a bit shaky. “Just look at how wet you are, fuck.”

His leathered fingers dug into your flesh, the rough surface of the brick picked and tugged at your dress. It bit into your skin, adding an element of consistent pain that you weren’t expecting, but had no complaints about.

“Do something useful and play with your clit for me.” He chuckled, watching as you helplessly took the beating he was doling out.

You nodded quickly and followed orders, your fingers putting pressure on the little nub. You rubbed quick circles, feeling the already tight coil in your stomach constrict again, getting tighter and tighter as he built you up to orgasm.

“Oh… feels good huh?” Ghost laughed, rolling his hips against you.

You answered a muffled ‘yes’, your eyebrows pinched together tightly as you concentrated on the warm, fuzzy feeling that bubbled just under the surface within you.

“Shit.” He grunted leaning forward and drilling into you while letting out a desperate, barely modified, high-pitched whine.

“Gods this pussy’s just too damn good.” He groaned, leaning back again to watch as he felt your stomach tighten.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asked.

You were having trouble remembering to breathe, how did he expect you to form a coherent enough thought to give him a simple nod in response? You made pitiful whimpering noises, stopped in their tracks by your gag every time. Though it seemed to be enough of an answer for Ghost.

“Damn right.” He doubled down, thrusting up in a brutal pace that made your nipples harden and your back arch.

His fast paced movements not only pushed you both closer to the edge, but also pushed the hem of his hoodie up. It was slowly riding up from where he’d tugged it down to his hips.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “Eyes up.” He barked, his annoyance at the situation was palpable in the way his thrusts switched from calculated and precise to messy, angry snaps of his hips against your thighs.

“Don’t you fucking test me girl.” Ghost growled, pressing your legs alittle harder against the wall when your eyes darted downward again.

Your pussy fluttered around his throbbing length, squeezing him tightly while your fingertips bit into his shoulders through the thick fabric of his hoodie. Your whines and moans matching his desperate breath.

“Jesus- look at me damnit!” He barked your eyes snapping up to stare into the black holes of his mask. “Cant listen to simple instructions, are you stupid?”

You shook your head, immediately responding to his insult in a futile attempt to defend your intelligence. You could almost hear the smile behind his mask when he felt your cunt squeeze him alittle tighter.

“You might not have been dumb before, but you sure as hell are now.” Ghost grumbled, determined to exploit your newfound enjoyment of his humiliation. “Stupid bitch. Legs all spread for me, moaning like a fucking pornstar and drooling over my cock.”

“So fucking stupid that you like it when I insult you.” He laughed, “Poor little girl turned into a cockwhore the first time a real man fucks her.”

“All you’ve got in that tiny brain of yours is me.” He said and of course he was right. He was always right.

“There we go. Atta girl baby.” He breathed out, watching you fall apart against him. Leaning forward just a bit while your hand worked faster between your bodies.

You glanced down momentarily and caught just the tiniest sliver of black ink on the pale skin of his abdomen. His reaction was immediate; his right hand tossing your leg over his shoulder and his torso pressed against yours.

You heard a click and snap just before feeling something sharp and cold poking the side of your neck. Your eyes widened when you realized he’d pulled his knife on you, or maybe it was because the quick switch-up in angles and the dangerous position you’d gotten yourself into excited you enough to make you come undone.

He watched, shaking his head slightly while you convulsed against him, suffering through the pleasurable pain of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” He panted, “I can’t even threaten you without your pussy getting drenched.”

His thrusts became desperate and needy, having taken care of you first, he was quick to follow. He let his knife fall to the pavement with a clatter so he could wrap his hand around your neck instead.

“It was hot though.” He chuckled, pressing his chest against yours as his hips stuttered, he filled up the condom with a low, reedy groan. Slowly thrusting into you a few more times before reluctantly pulling out.

“Close your eyes and don’t you dare think about opening them. I’ll knock your fucking lights out, you hear me?” He growled, his mask nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he felt you nod in agreement so he gingerly guided one of your legs back to the ground.

Leaning back to ensure you kept your promise while he tugged his hoodie back down and tucked away his cock. He then carefully helped you down, laughing at the way you wobbled on unsteady legs as he zipped and buttoned his jeans, fastening his belt hastily.

You pulled out the gag and took a long gulp of fresh air, trying to process everything that had happened. It felt like hours had gone by but as you checked your phone you realized it had only been about twenty minutes.

“C’mere little doe.” Ghost said softly tucking his knife away in his back pocket. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed hard and complied, letting him wrap you in a comforting hug.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, even quieter.

“You want to walk me home?” You asked in surprise.

“I’m going to regardless of whether you say yes or no. Do you want me to walk with you or do you want me to hide out in the shadows like I usually do?” He asked, swaying you slightly in the embrace.

“Walk with me.” You answered quietly, too tired to pretend you didn’t want his company.

“Good girl.” He nodded, releasing you partially.

Keeping an arm slung around your shoulders he guided you down the dark alleyway and back out onto the sidewalk. With his hood up and his head down, you walked together silently, listening to the city night sounds while the weight of your situation pressed down on your chest.

Diary Entry: August 25th

I’ve went and got myself into a fucking problem again. Will I ever learn? Probably not.

My need to keep you placated enough that you won’t absolutely despise me when you find out who I am… kept me from fully fulfilling my fantasy. Everything we did was perfect baby, that’s not what I mean. I just mean I’m gonna have to do it again and hope you’ll forgive me later.

Not to mention how DIFFICULT it is to fuck you as myself now that I’ve learned a few of the little things that make you tick. I wanna rip into you, I want to devour you whole, I want to fuck you so hard that the ER nurses will be jealous when they’re bringing you back from the stupor I put you in.

Gods, I didn’t think I’d ever see you splayed out on the wall like that for me but I’m so fucking glad I did. Ever since the first time I thought of it I haven’t stopped. So beautiful, you’re so beautiful. How can I be expected to not be wholly and fully obsessed with you when you’re so perfect?

How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want to press a blade to your throat while I make love to you nice and slow, in my bed? Christ… I knew you’d show Ghost a different side to you, but I didn’t expect you to like that. Not at all.

It’s got me wondering what else you’d like. If only I wasn’t so worried about your opinion of me, maybe then I’d test some things out.

Also, your opinion of me… you little brat. You’ve stopped writing about me in your diary. It’s like you’re trying to make me angry. Do you think that’ll get you what you want?

It won’t.

You see one little sliver of skin and you think you can cold shoulder me into giving away who I am? I’m not finished with my fun yet. Maybe if you’d listen to me you’d get what you wanted sooner.

But no. Of course not. You are a brat after all, whiny and needy and stupid enough to think that misbehaving will get you anywhere.

Have you met me? When have I ever let you get away with shit before?

I’d like to scrub that image from your brain. I’d like to yank out the memory of my rings too, did you have to grab my hand like that? You’re stupid, but I’m a fucking moron. I should’ve put them in my pocket like I normally do. I was too busy trying to get where I needed to be to properly prepare.

Sloppy work Ghost… or Anakin. Both. Sloppy.

I took out my snake bites. I took out my cock ring. I haven’t had my tongue ring in for quite a while now, have you ever seen me with it? I don’t think you have…

DATE

August 26th

Anakin’s tongue had just invaded your mouth, swirling and caressing every centimeter of yours that he could comfortably get to. His lips caught against yours in a sticky, loving, slow kiss.

When a knock at your door rudely interrupted your make-out session on your couch.

“Fuck.” He groaned, patting your hip to signal for you to get up from his lap. “Can you get it baby? I don’t think the delivery guy wants to see my boner as much as you do.”

“Yes I’ll get the door.” You laughed, covering your mouth while you glanced over your shoulder at him, his hand down the front of his sweatpants to reposition himself.

“Hey.” you smiled, opening up the door to greet the pizza guy, a short scruffy looking dude with dark circles and stubble.

“Hey hon.” He grinned, “you paid online right?”

“Yep, sure did.” You nodded, holding out your hand with some ones. “I always tip in cash though.”

“Ah, thanks.” He smiled, taking it from you and tucking it into his pocket.

“Um… can I have the pizza now?” You laughed, holding out both hands awkwardly.

“Oh shit, yeah.” He awkwardly handed it over with a blush to his cheeks. “Sorry, got distracted… you’re just really pretty.”

His voice was quiet and small as he ogled over your body, all the way down to your fuzzy pink slippers, his eyes soaking in the image of your white cropped tank top and baby blue silky shorts, a pajama set Anakin had bought you not too long ago.

“Oh uh…” You stuttered nervously, looking over your shoulder you saw Anakin making a fast approach to the door.

His arm wrapped around your waist, one large hand splaying across the exposed skin of your stomach. His lips placed a chaste kiss to your shoulder before he turned his head and nuzzled into your neck, leaving a wet and sloppy kiss to the tender flesh. It seemed like he just couldn’t help himself as he pressed his cock against your ass, he needed this guy to not only know you were taken, but also to feel as uncomfortable as he could manage.

“C’mon princess,” Anakin’s voice low and gravely as he unashamedly staked his claim over you. “I’ve lost my appetite for pizza, found something else I’d rather eat.”

“S-sorry I’m sorry.” The delivery guy stammered, turning quickly with a red faced, shocked expression as he hightailed it away from your door.

Anakin’s other arm looped around your waist, pulling you back into the apartment, his foot coming up to kick the door closed while he laughed.

“Anakin!” You squealed, wiggling out of his grasp and setting the pizza box down on the kitchen counter. “Poor guy, you’ve traumatized him.” You giggled.

“His fault.” He shrugged, pulling you back against him with one hand on the back of your neck.

“Shouldn’t have interrupted my kisses, shouldn’t have flirted with my girl.” He mumbled against your lips, his other hand growing tired of caressing your breasts through the fabric of your top.

His grip on the back of your neck tightened while his free hand tugged up the hem of your top, pulling it past the swell of your breasts and exposing the sensitive flesh for his mouth to latch onto. His lips left yours in favor of pulling and sucking on your hardened nipple, not leaving your other unattended, his fingers working away by pinching and tweaking it.

“Damnit… Anakin.” You whined, pushing his head back.

“Don’t interrupt me sweetheart, I told you I was hungry.” He chuckled.

“For pizza!” You yelped, his teeth gently but unexpectedly bit down on your nipple.

“That was before some twerp tried to sweet talk my baby.” He growled.

“Hush, no one could ever sweet talk me away from you.” You breathed out carding your fingers through his hair.

“Oh? Is that so?” He asked a bit sharper in tone than he normally used with you.

“Of course Ani.” You whispered, eyebrows furrowing in a bit of confusion. What was he talking about? There’s no possible way he could know about Ghost.

He looked up at you from his point of attack as he slowly rose to his feet. Hooking his fingers under your top, he pulled it up again, prompting you to lift your arms so he could take it off. You let him, seeing a shift in his eyes from desire to feral need; a need for possession.

“Let’s get these off.” He whispered, dragging his tongue down the length of your abdomen, his hands helping you step out of your panties and shorts.

He placed a gentle, warm kiss to your mound before straightening himself up again, grabbing the pizza box and the back of your neck again to walk you over to the couch.

With the pizza box on the coffee table, he stripped down bare and opened up the curtains of your big living room window.

“What are you doing?” You asked with a slight laugh.

“If someone wants to look at you, then they can look while I’m balls deep inside.” He said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer while he settled himself on the couch with his legs spread comfortably.

He held you steady with one hand on your waist, leaning forward to trace a wet circle around your navel with his tongue while his fingers spread your folds to run his fingers through and gather up your arousal.

“Turn around baby,” he said softly. “Sit on my cock like a good girl okay?”

You straddled his thighs backwards, his thumbs peeling your asscheeks apart to get a good look as your glistening cunt opened up and took his cock like it was made just for him. His cockhead breached your entrance, the thick metal ball of his jewelry massaging your inner walls while he held you still so he could slowly thrust up into you with short strokes.

“My pussy.” He breathed out, pushing in alittle deeper. “So fucking wet and I didn’t even have to touch you first. All it took was a good kiss huh?”

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, your hands on his knees to keep your balance.

“That’s right.” He nodded, confidence dripping from his voice. “Now settle down on it.”

You lowered yourself slowly, taking in each tortuous inch until he was fully sheathed inside. The position making you feel full in ways you hadn’t before, it put a fair amount of pressure against your front, adding an extra bit of stimulation. You tried to rock back and forth on him, expecting him to want you to do exactly that, but he stopped you.

“No.” Anakin was gruff when he spoke, “You sit still, don’t move unless I tell you to. I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

“Oh… okay.” You nodded rapidly, your pussy contracted around him, earning a dark chuckle from the man behind you.

“Now let’s eat.” He said nonchalantly, gesturing for you to get a slice of pizza for the both of you while he picked up the remote and selected a slasher film.

“Really?” You asked in surprise.

“Yes really.” He scoffed, “I’m hungry, as much as I’d love to be able to sustain myself off your pussy, I can’t.”

“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, leaning forward while he kept ahold of you so that you could retrieve a slice for the both of you.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He said, casual as ever after taking a bite.

He rested his chin on your shoulder and his idle hand on your stomach, rubbing his thumb across your skin soothingly, despite his palm putting a bit of pressure there.

Despite your boyfriend being, like he said: ‘balls deep’ inside you, your thoughts kept drifting to Ghost. You knew somewhere in this room there was a camera, and somewhere out in the world there was a man seething in anger over what you were doing.

Sitting naked, curtains open, spread out and speared on your boyfriend’s dick while you both ate pizza and watched a movie.

You found it harder and harder to sit still, feeling uncomfortable not only from the thickness lodged in your cunt, but from the all seeing, all knowing gaze of Ghost. It only got worse when Anakin’s hand drifted down a bit further to tease and flick your clit.

“Ani please…” you whined, trying your very best not to squirm.

“Please what?” He asked, chewing a bite as he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“It’s not fair.” You complained, “don’t touch me if you’re not gonna let me move.”

“Excuse me?” His voice deep and dangerous as all his movements froze.

“W-what?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder to see a scowl on his face.

“Repeat yourself.” He asked in a stern but calm tone.

“Well I didn’t- that’s not what I meant I-“

“Say it again.” He prodded.

“It’s not fair?” You whispered, avoiding the part you knew he was referring to.

“Nope, not that.” He said, tossing his half eaten slice of pizza back into the box and doing the same to yours.

“Don’t touch me?” You asked, your voice not coming out nearly as collected as you attempted for it to.

“That’s what I thought you said.” He grunted, removing his hands from your hips and lacing his fingers together behind his head.

“If you wanna move, move.” He challenged. “Just don’t expect any help from me princess. This is all you.”

“What?” You squeaked.

“You told me not to touch you.” He shrugged.

“Anakin! I didn’t mean it like that!” You whined, slowly rising and turning around to face him.

You stared for a minute, distracted from your original mission by the sight of his cock throbbing, coated in your slick, the pretty blushed tip hugging the top ball of the jewelry you loved so much.

“If you want it so bad then get on it and fuck me.” He laughed, a big smug grin on his lips.

“Well, sorry that I find my boyfriend extremely hot.” You snorted. “You’re just so… yummy.”

“Yummy?” His smile only getting bigger as you fueled his ego.

“Mhm.” You nodded, a little smirk on your lips as you put your hands on his chest to balance yourself while you slowly sunk back down on his length.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief from being full of him again. When it came to Anakin you were insatiable, he knew you like that back of his hand, every touch, kiss and movement was choreographed to your liking.

Now he was going to make you work for it after all this time of letting you be a pretty little pillow princess? How unfair.

“Yummy.” You said again, starting to rock back and forth on him, circling your hips and rising just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”

You leaned forward, kissing his chest and snaking your hands up into his hair, tugging lightly but focusing on gentle fingertips carding through his hair. Your lips took a path straight up the column of his throat, hot, open mouthed kisses placed back to back along the inked skin.

Dragging your tongue along the underside of his jaw and enveloping the small black stud on his earlobe with your lips, sucking on it only to pull away.

“C’mon sweetheart you can do better than that.” He groaned, obviously fighting an internal battle with himself, his muscles flexed in his forearms as he squeezed his hands together tightly.

“I like it like this.” You sighed, riding him as slowly as possible, letting your head fall back as you teased him by touching yourself.

“Oh- fuck, baby…” he whined, watching as you cupped both your breasts and pulled at your nipples in sync, putting on a show for him.

You felt his cock twitch at the sight of you taking charge over him, reminding you of the first time you he ‘made love’ to you. His face was pitiful and pained, he looked so needy.

“Poor little Ani.” You teased, poking out your bottom lip.

“Baby please, fuck me for real.” He huffed, trying not to buck up into you.

“I don’t know how, I forgot. You spoiled me for too long.” You giggled, bouncing on him just a bit faster for only a few seconds.

“Gods-“ he gritted his teeth together so tightly you were worried he might crack a tooth. “You can do it princess, c’mon fuck me.”

“Like this?” You asked sweetly, your voice innocent and teasing.

You lifted and pushed back down on him faster, a bit harder, while still circling your hips. Hands leaving your breasts in favor of cupping his face and tilting his head back slightly.

“Y-yeah that’s it.” He nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, tucking it behind his top row of teeth as he closed his eyes tightly.

“Better?” You whispered, your hands leaving his face to return to his chest, pinching his nipples just to see how he’d react.

“Christ-“ he sucked in a sharp breath of air, his eyes flying open to look down at your hands, your fingertips squeezing the little hardened nubs. “Shit sweetheart…”

“You like it?” You asked him with a bit of surprise.

“I-yeah I think I do.” He chuckled, choking on air when you leaned down and enveloped one between your lips biting down like he’d done to you.

“I take it back… I know I like it.” He breathed out shakily.

With newfound confidence you rode him in earnest, soaking in every moan and whimper he let loose and letting it fuel the fire in your belly.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, his head resting on the back of the couch as he moved his arms down, flexing his hands at his sides to keep them busy.

You slowed down to tease him, to hear him whimper. And he did, he looked up at you like you’d kicked a puppy when you broke your rhythm that had him hurtling toward the edge.

“Why?” He hiccuped, his eyebrows knitted together while he tongued at his lip piercings anxiously.

“Cause I wanted to.” You giggled, taking pride in the way you had him under your thumb.

“Brat.” He grumbled, “c’mon fuck me, you know how to fuck me baby.”

He was loosing patience and loosing it quickly. He thrusted up slightly and stopped himself from doing more by groaning loudly and biting down on his fist.

“You wanna cum?” You asked, low and seductive.

“Goddamnit.” He sucked in a sharp breath when you purposely clenched around him rhythmically, licking at his nipples again.

“Yes, please, please I want to.” He whined, covering his eyes with his arm.

“You want to? Or need to?” You teased him, nipping at his Adam’s apple.

“Sweetheart,” he growled, “please.”

“Aw Anakin, you didn’t answer my question.” You pouted, slowing down slightly.

“Fuck!” He grunted, his face heating up at your self satisfied giggle. “I need to. I need to cum, please!”

“See? Just needed to answer a simple question.” You cooed, returning to your previous pace.

“That’s real fucking rich coming from you, little-“ He held his breath, stopping his words from coming out, instead letting out a whine that bordered on a sob.

“Please.” He panted, “princess please just- faster.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” You said with a smug grin, complying with his request and moving just a bit faster.

“Make me cum.” He gritted out, baring his teeth and trying not to grab you, both hands hovering at your waist. “C’mon fuck the cum out of me sweetheart, you can do it, you know how to do it.”

His words had you falter in your movements, he sounded so desperate, so needy, he was able to make you feel desired in ways no one else ever had before and it made you want to give him everything he needed and more.

“Fuck this shit.” He growled, gripping you tightly and ramming up into you, making you gasp and hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Takin’ too damn long, not doing what I asked, teasing me…” he grunted, driving up hard and fast. “Can’t stand it anymore.”

“Fuck… yeah scratch me.” he chuckled, feeling your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you hiccuped for air. “Mark me up princess.”

“God you feel so good.” He let out a shaky breath, his forehead in the crook of your neck. “Play with your clit, cum for me.”

“M’not gonna last much longer baby.” He whined and you thought you felt something hot and wet drip down onto your skin.

“Ani?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hmm?” He sniffled, not lifting his head.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, wishing he’d slow down and look at you. “Are you crying?”

“Damnit.” He hiccuped, nodding his head and letting out a long held breath against your flushed skin. “Fuck… m’fine.”

“But-“

“Shhh- shut up.” He said quietly. “Just- just need you.”

He trailed kisses along your skin, sucking at the crook of your neck and nibbling there, doing his damndest to give you a massive hickey. You didn’t have the willpower to stop him and ask him to pick another place.

“I need you, need to feel you, need to be with you.” His voice shook, as he whispered into your skin, his lips grazing against your earlobe with each word.

“Don’t ever wanna lose you.” He pulled you flush against his chest, fisting your hair and squeezing your middle tightly as he leaned back, taking you with him. “You’re my girl, mine.”

“Fuck.” He sobbed, clutching at your body, at any piece of you he could reach as he relentlessly thrusted up into you. “Shit, shit, shit I’m gonna cum.” He breathed out, hot and heavy.

“I-I… baby I love you.” He confessed, a pitiful whimper leaving his trembling lips as he pulled back enough for you to see his red rimmed eyes just before he devoured you in a kiss.

He moaned into your mouth, holding you tightly as he fucked his cum deep inside your cunt, the shock of his confession, the confusion of his tears and the warmth of his seed coating your walls had you coming apart at the seams along with him.

You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know what to feel, guilty that’s for certain, but otherwise? You were an emotional wreck. All you could do was kiss him. Kiss him and touch him and ride out your high in little movements while he tries to catch his breath and wipe his tears.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispered, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. “I just needed you to know.”

“I-it’s not that I just… are you okay?” You asked gently, climbing off him and letting him cuddle you up next to him and wrap a blanket around the both of you.

“I’m fine sweetheart.” He nodded, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in the scent of you. “I got overwhelmed I guess.”

“It’s a big feeling and I feel it extra big for you.” He said softly, petting your hair and scratching your scalp lovingly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You nodded, laying your head on his chest and feeling his warmth. “Big, big feeling.” You whispered, trying to hold in the flow of tears that threatened to burst out for several reasons, some including Anakin and some including someone else.

Diary Entry: August 26th

I ask myself again: will I ever fucking learn? No. The answer is no, I will not.

Let’s listen the things I did horribly wrong last night shall we?

I should’ve just decked the pizza guy like I wanted to. I would’ve if it wouldn’t have scared you.

I almost called you something I shouldn’t.

I cried like a little bitch baby. What the hell was that Anakin? What kind of guy cries (not the good kind of tears) while he fucks his girlfriend? Not me! Not me, that’s not me! God that was so fucking stupid, I can’t believe I did that. Worried you like that. I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it.

I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I love you either.

So. It’s safe to say that I’ve officially lost my shit.

You didn’t say it back. Why didn’t you say it back? Am I not enough? Have I split you in half like I’ve done to myself?

Maybe you just think it’s too soon. I mean, really it is for any normal relationship. But our relationship isn’t normal at all. You could paint it and position it any way you wanted and it still wouldn’t look right.

You can’t leave me. Please, please, please don’t leave me. I don’t want to scare you off. I can’t… I couldn’t live without you. So I can’t see you as Ghost until I’ve sorted myself out. No matter how badly I want to.

I probably shouldn’t even see you as myself until I’ve taken care of my head.

DATE

August 27th

Anakin laid flat on his back, the furniture in his living room pushed against the wall so that he could spread out like a starfish on the soft rug. He told you he worked tonight even though he didn’t. He told you he’d see you tomorrow even though he wasn’t sure that he would. He told you he loved you even though you didn’t say it back.

He had spent every minute since you’d fallen asleep last night researching and compiling information about a guy neither of you knew. He had spent every second manually breathing to keep himself centered and calm enough so that he wouldn’t shake with anger as he read each new tidbit of information.

He had everything ready. He was ready.

Anakin sighed and stood up slowly, brushing off imaginary dirt from his black jeans. Stopping near his living room window to pick up his small black backpack, then he climbed down the fire escape toward the more populated, less watched area of the city.

The place where you go to get meth on the street corner. The houses where the windows are cracked and the front porch light flickers. Where the night noises make you walk alittle faster, hold your keys alittle tighter.

The place where a police officer’s druggie son gets away with selling pills to highschoolers.

His freshly bought throwaway Goodwill sneakers crunched against the crumbling sidewalk, a small paint-chipped house came into view. Anakin had walked this far without seeing a single soul since he’d tied a certain bandana across his face. And of course when he’s within 30ft of his destination some half dressed middle aged man with a beer gut is out in his front lawn walking his tiny mutant chihuahua.

Anakin kept his head down and walked straight past the house he was meant to be at. Grumbling about his luck and how he didn’t have time for any more delays. Deciding to take the back way and hop the fence instead of entering through the side basement window like he’d originally planned.

After his extra 5 minutes of walking he’d looped around to the correct house’s backyard and scaled the the rickety wooden fence with a little more noise than he wanted.

“At least the idiot left his door unlocked.” He mumbled, looking at the back door that was propped open with a rubber boot. The screen door closed but without a handle or latch.

He walked in, the screen door creaking open with a loud screech that had Anakin cursing himself for not bringing his WD-40.

“Kyle?” A slurred and drunken voice called out from somewhere in the living room.

“You’re like a whole hour early man.” The pizza delivery guy, Joel Hampton, choked out as he flicked cigarette ash into a tray on the coffee table.

“I’m right on time.” Anakin’s voice came from behind him, both of his hands coming down on his shoulders to lift him up and out of the recliner.

“Jesus! What the hell?!” Joel kicked and tried to wrestle himself away from Anakin, clumsy and halted half-movements that only had him stumbling.

“Where’s your gun?” Anakin growled, flipping out his knife and dragging Joel across the dirty laminate floor by his hair. “I know you have one. Where is it?”

“Fuck man! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Joel yelped, Anakin’s knife blade pressed against his throat.

“You have a pistol.” Anakin repeated, his face coming down to get on Joel’s level, “Where. Is. It?”

“W-why? Why’re you doing this? If you want drugs I’ll give ‘em to you man!” He squealed, Anakin yanking him back to his feet and steering him toward the kitchen.

“Oh how convenient.” Anakin chuckled, dragging Joel over to his kitchen sink and pushing his head down in the dirty water sitting stagnant with the night’s dishes.

Joel flailed his arms, landing and elbow to Anakin’s ribs that only served to piss him off more, so he pulled him from the water and tossed him to the ground watching him sputter and gasp for breath.

“Where is it Joel?”

“How do you know my name?” He coughed, slinking back across the tile to corner himself against the cabinets.

“Your dad’s name is Fredrick Hampton, he just got a promotion down at the 5th precinct. Your mommy Linda is a cashier at the Quik-Stop down the road, where you do your week day deals to the kids from the highschool. You got mono and were in the hospital for a week last year and your family dog died two months ago.” Anakin listed these things off like he’d been rehearsing it. “And yesterday, you delivered pizza to me and my girlfriend.”

“N-no, no you’re that guy?” He squeaked.

“Yeah. I’m that guy.” Anakin said. “Now, give me your gun and I’ll make this quick or don’t and I’ll make it messy.”

“You’re gonna kill me over that?” He sputtered, trying to stand up. “I didn’t even do nothing!”

“I was bored anyway.” Anakin snapped, throwing a strong right hook to Joel’s cheek.

“Do you think it’d be more believable if you killed yourself or if you got jumped by some druggies in your own house?” Anakin snorted. “I’m fine with both. You’re gonna die either way.”

“Kill myself?” Joel spat on the tile, holding his jaw, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“Your gun you fucking idot.” Anakin barked, “are you daft? I need your pistol to blow your fucking brains out, it’s not like you’re using ‘em anyway.”

“Do you want it slow and painful or quick and easy?” Anakin asked angrily, “C’mon I’m giving you a choice, that’s a thing I do now, don’t make me regret it.”

“Neither!” Joel yelled, finally getting up and sloppily throwing a punch to Anakin’s gut.

“Really?” Anakin laughed. “Alright.”

“S’okay I like it messy.” Anakin whispered tossing his knife on the kitchen table and picking Joel up by the back of his head and the center of the back of his shirt.

“Kyle’s supposed to be here in an hour?” Anakin asked casually, bringing Joel’s face down on the wooden table top hard enough to push it across the room.

“Plenty of time.” Anakin brought the heel of his shoe down on Joel’s fingers hearing them crunch in a satisfying way.

“Goddamnit!” Joel pulled his hand back and held it to his chest, groaning in pain and red in the face from holding his breath.

“Get up,” Anakin chuckled, “don’t want daddy to think you went down without a fight do you?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m flattered, but I have a pretty girl for that.” He grunted as he sent his right foot swinging directly at Joel’s mouth, the toe of his shoe coming back bloody.

Joel spat out blood onto the floor, his uninjured hand going to touch his split lip and feel his bottom row of teeth.

“What do you what man?” He cried out, his face a picture of pain painted red as his bloodied finger tips felt his jaw and cheek.

“Nothin’.” Anakin shrugged, picking up a chair and tossing it on its side, bracing himself on the table to jump down on one of the legs to break it off.

“Ooh look.” He laughed, shaking the splintered chair leg in Joel’s face, “Got a screw in it.”

“Come on, Joel.” Anakin groaned kicking him in the stomach. “You’re not making this any fun for me.”

“You’re a fucking psycho!” He grunted, curling up into a ball to protect his middle.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Anakin gritted out through bared teeth.

“You don’t know me!” Anakin shouted, bringing the chair leg, screw side down on the man below him, over and over again, red blooms soaking through his light blue shirt.

“But I know you.” Anakin kneeled down gripping Joel’s hair and slamming his face down against the tile, blood spurting from his nose and sending him into a stupor.

“Where’s it stop for you huh?” Anakin asked, pinning his arm in place on the ground with one knee on Joel’s elbow and slowly, so, so, slowly bending his arm back.

Feeling the tension of his muscles and the protestation of his bone Anakin gritted his teeth, holding Joel’s arm by the wrist just before the breaking point.

“It’s not enough for you to go around selling drugs to kids, you hit your girlfriend about four months ago and wound up with a little domestic that your daddy took care of for you.” Anakin grunted, snapping the elbow joint with a loud crunch and crack followed by a sharp scream from Joel that Anakin quieted with a foot to the face.

“So here I am,” Anakin hefted Joel up who weakly attempted to stand on his own two feet while Anakin held him under the arms and dragged him back into the living room, kicking him squarely in the chest down onto the glass coffee table. “getting rid of your dear old dad’s biggest disappointment and getting my fix in so I can be the best man I can for my pretty girl at home.”

“Now Joel, before you pass out...” Anakin crouched down and grabbed his jaw, slapping him to rouse him enough to pay attention, “I need the code to your lockbox.”

“W-will you leave me?” He slurred, drooling blood from the corner of his mouth, “Alone? Leave me alone?”

“Yeah sure.” Anakin shrugged.

“4-2-0-7” Joel panted, trying to get up and scoot away from his attacker, picking up shattered glass in the meat of hands, shards falling from his battered back.

“Whoa buddy slow down,” Anakin laughed, picking up the lockbox from beside the recliner and opening it up, shoving cash and as many baggies of various pills as he could into his pockets. “hold this for me.”

He tossed the lock box down on Joel’s chest and stifled a laugh at the pitiful choked sob that left him, the weight of it knocking the air from his lungs while Anakin trudged over the scattered glass.

He tossed the couch onto its back, swiped the various items on the kitchen counter off onto the floor, kicking it around and smearing blood over the counter top and cabinets, he grabbed his butterfly knife from where he’d tossed it aside, as well as a dirty skillet from the kitchen sink.

Smearing blood on the side of the skillet, he swung it like a bat at the wall in various places before making his way back to Joel who was fumbling with blood slicked fingers on his phone.

“Oh you stupid, stupid man.” Anakin snorted, snatching it from his hands he checked the screen and saw he hadn’t even been able to unlock it.

He tossed it up and swung his skillet-bat, a loud *Prrringg* rang out before it clattered to the ground somewhere near the hall to the back door.

“You said you’d leave.” Joel whimpered, holding his hands over his face.

“I lied.” Anakin said contempt dripping from his lips from behind the black bandana, tilting his head to the side.

“Hope you understand, I gotta beat the shit out of you with a few different things before I kill you.” Anakin sighed, “All this trouble when you could’ve just told me where your pistol was.”

“Shame.” He grunted, bringing the sharp edge of the skillet down on his ribs, arms, and legs.

“Please,” Joel wheezed, clutching at his side with his mangled arm tucked underneath him. “you don’t have to do this man, c’mon I ain’t done nothing to you!”

“I know I don’t have to, I want to.” Anakin pulled down his bandana for the first time during this attack just to flash Joel a smile.

He tossed the skillet somewhere to the right of them, grabbing Joel’s ashtray from beneath the shattered remains of the coffee table, cracking it over the back of his head.

“Shit, I hope you didn’t spend too much on that.” Anakin chuckled. “S’not real marble, look at that. Split right in half.” He tsk’d.

“Shall we end this now?” He took a deep breath, flicking out his knife.

“Why’d you do all that… just to kill me?” Joel cried, “don’t do it, please. I’ll- my dad, he’ll fix it okay?”

“I did all that, for fun.” Anakin said, gripping the knife firmly in his leather gloved hand, jamming it between Joel’s lower ribs, clamping his free hand over his mouth to muffle the blood-curdling scream he let out.

“Your dad ain’t fixing shit.” Anakin snorted, “he’s gonna be glad to be rid of you.”

“You’ve got another brother, nice guy. Works at the bank,” Anakin whistled lowly as he pulled out the blade at watched the blood gush out. “your dad wouldn’t admit it to your face of course; but I imagine he’ll be relieved when he hears the news.”

Joel sputtered and coughed up blood, gurgling the fluid in his open mouth as he choked. Deep crimson ichor drowning him from the inside.

“You’re making a mess.” Anakin grumbled, switching the grip on the blade. With one hand wrapped around the handles, the other palm on the end to put extra weight into the next motion.

“Hey.” Anakin nudged him with him knee, “open your eyes.”

The second he complied Anakin sank the blade straight into the brown of his iris, a shiver running over his flesh when he heard the *pop* when it pierced through.

“Figured you’d wanna see something pretty before you died.” Anakin grinned, putting his full upper body weight into the knife handle, driving it in as far as he could manage.

“Gross,” Anakin stood up, watching with a grimace as Joel seized, red foam oozing down his chin until he finally stopped convulsing. “fucking nasty.”

Anakin plucked his knife from the eye socket and cleaned the blade on the one unblemished patch of fabric of his victim’s shirt, tucking it into his back pocket. He surveyed the area, ensuring he’d created a believable enough scene, once he was satisfied he walked toward the backdoor, purposely shuffling and sliding his feet across the laminate to avoid full, solid foot prints.

“Hmm.” As he reached the end of the hall he spotted a large mason jar of change, he just couldn’t help himself from smacking it off the small entryway table it sat on, enjoying the sound of the coins scattering across the floor.

“Nice.” He grinned, a little pep in his step as he jumped to the grass from the top step.

In the corner of the backyard against the fence, Anakin pulled off his gloves and switched out his clothes and shoes, shoving the drugs, cash and dirty clothes into his bag.

He hopped the fence and walked as casually as he could down the sidewalk. Unable to wipe the smile from his lips, he was practically giddy, having gotten the biggest adrenaline rush he’d had in a long, long time. He felt free, he felt like a dark cloud had been blown away by a summer breeze. He felt like he could reach up and run his fingertips across the night sky, collecting up stars like pretty rocks to bring home to you.

He felt different. He felt changed. He felt alive.

And gods forgive him, he felt horny.

Part Twelve

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @demieyesore @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[r0-boat]

Hi, have you done Bimet's NSFW Alphabet? If not can you make one please 🙏

Heheh Yes I will gladly make a alphabet headcannon post about one of my favorite characters in the game

Bimet NSFW ALPHABET

Cw: NSFW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You would be surprised that he is very good at aftercare, He will make you feel so loved and cared for when he's done. I'm talking small kisses all over your body, rubbing sore spots on your body; anything you want, he will gladly give you. A soft side of him that he shows to only two people in his entire lifetime.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He will never admit it, But his favorite part about you is your smile. Not one of those fake smiles either, a genuine smile never fails to brighten his otherwise shit tastic day. As much as he doesn't agree the little things that make you smile. As much as he thinks something so ignificant like a bug or a leaf could make you so happy. He can't help but find that a little endearing please never change.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

All demons in Tartaros are pretty possessive, it's part of their greedy nature. Even though he knows and gets off to the fact that you own everything, he can't help but have the urge to mark his territory with his seed. And you are on you he just has this hunger to claim and make sure you stay claimed that must be quelled.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's got pet fantasies, He wants to be your pet, your concubine anything. Desperately willing to worship you. happily wear a nice little collar around his neck. As much as he likes to argue and poke fun at you as soon as those He's alone with you He's on his knees.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh he knows what he's doing. He takes great pride in pleasuring you And he strives to be the best fuck you'll ever have anything for you. He'll make you feel like a god, a princess, the most important thing in the world.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that's yours, But if you really have to pick He likes looking at his caught going inside you so as long as he can see His cock disappearing inside You're warm walls He's okay

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is more serious, if you try to be goofy he will just start fucking you harder.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This man probably has a 13 steps skin and hair care so of course he's groomed. He prefers to shave and prepare before having sex with you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

One of the rare times he shows his love and affection for you. He genuinely loves spoiling and taking care of you if only you will allow him to do it. Stop Fighting him and accept his pampering broke dumb bitch!!!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Never masturbated in his life and never needed to. But that was before you. Now he's... Addicted...You've turned him on so much, who knew sex could be so good! He's supposed to be a demon but you corrupted him now he can't get off without you, almost as good as money... Almost.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Roleplay, of any kind in absolute slut for praise kink and degrading.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere luxurious. My guy will Will make reservations for fancy rooms all across hell just to fuck you in them.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Money and you. Wealthy locations, fancy hotels fancy resorts anything. Especially if you're in nice expensive clothing If he tells you he reserved a night out somewhere he's going to fuck you stupid.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anywhere in bathrooms, in the street, definitely not outside, also don't wear anything stupid that's a turn off as well, )no the Bluey socks will not stay on during sex take them the fuck off...)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Giving and receiving! Perhaps even a little bit of a fixation He will taste you all day if you don't stop him. Your cunt/dick tastes so good! And of course he will be watching every little move you make if you bob your head up and down on his cock. Try not to make you choke on it

Fast rough and wild, fucks you like an animal. Fucks you like This is the first time he has sex because in a way this is the first time he enjoyed sex. He knows he fucks you good no matter how much he pisses you off.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Master at quickies he could make you come so hard so fast. Though he rather have you all to himself instead of resort due quickly hiking your leg up to have you, He's greedy like that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes he experiments, This is the first time he actually enjoyed sex He is going to make the most of it He's going to get freaky Don't judge him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pent up demons are not something you want to toy with. He lasts for a fucking long time even by demon standards, And he has a quick recovery too. After 5 rounds he will want more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes, both him and you. He got some expensive ass toys in his collection somewhere. Some he hasn't even used on you yet some you've never even seen. Started buying them after the first time you had sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

That fucker likes to tease like it's his full-time job He wants to hear you beg and sob and squirm. He'll make you say embarrassing things. And record you doing it just for a keepsake. He knows how to get what he wants and he knows just what strings to pull. He knows how to touch you He knows your body and he will play you like an instrument

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The man is loud, growling grunting whimpering moaning you name it talking degrading praising and whimpering your name..

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Threesomes with You and Mammon had happened before They actually happened more often than you think.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Beautiful big thick and long cut cock. Swollen balls

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fucking ridiculous. He just had a taste of you and he is not willing to let you go.

Wraps in armorandy to pull you closer before cuddling up to you giving your forehead a few kisses before drifting off.

[calicoups]

౨ৎ squishy — csc

synopsis i actually don’t even have one, the title kinda sums it up! pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff. word count 0.9k

"you're so squishy, just squishy everywhere," you blurt out as you lay on your side, facing your boyfriend, "can you be my walking talking squishy, cheol?"

it's one of those nights where you and seungcheol lay in bed, still awake at 1:18am because neither of you can fall asleep. during these types of nights, you and seungcheol talk about all types of topics ranging from how you're going to surprise or prank the next person from the friendship group to reminiscing about your individual childhood memories. the conversations sometimes became deep and philosophical, you both have good points when debating yet end up arguing over who's right.

seungcheol stares at you as if you've just insulted his whole family and kkuma.

"why are you staring at me like that?"

"baby, what kind of question is that?" seungcheol laughs at you, finally ceasing the death stare, laughter bubbles out of him and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"cherry, just answer it, can you be my walking talking squishy?"

"hm, i don't know about that…" he trails off, pretending to think hard about it.

you sneakily reach your hand over and behind him, as if to just hug him, and give his butt a squish. seungcheol flinches backwards and you yank your hand away and clasp it with your other on your chest, turning to the ceiling and whistling as if you didn't just lovingly touch your boyfriend's ass. you can feel seungcheol's wide eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

"hey, what was that for!"

"huh?" you turn to look at your pouty boyfriend, "what are you talking about?"

putting on an act and playing dumb makes seungcheol pout even more, his eyebrows lowering a little as if to scowl at you. he wouldn't do it for real though, he could never scowl at you.

you lean over and give him a kiss right on his pretty lips, letting out a loud 'mwah!' when you move back. your hands quickly move to his cheeks and you push them together. seungcheol's eyebrows return to their normal resting point and he's no longer pouting but fighting the biggest urge to start giggling like a schoolgirl at your actions.

“so, what did you decide?” you press him for his answer. you know it’s not that important but asking silly questions is so entertaining, especially when the answerer is choi seungcheol, aka the easiest to poke fun at.

“i have decided,” he pauses in an attempt to create suspense, “that…yes, i will be your walking talking squishy,”

“yay! now, i can s–”

“but!” he cuts you off before you can even celebrate properly, “you can’t touch my gluteus maximus, it is not free real estate.”

“what! but that’s how i release my stress,” you purse your lips at his comment. you know seungcheol is still joking at this point but playing along is so fun. secretly, he likes it when you smack his ass while passing by him. he lets you do it, he lets you do anything to him which is why sometimes you even end up biting his bicep because of all the cuteness aggression you get when you’re around him.

“i thought you bite my arms to release stress?”

“hey, people need to switch things up from time to time, you know,”

“whatever you say. i think i deserve something in return though, don’t you think?”

you sigh and roll your eyes, “and what would that be, hm?”

seungcheol turns his head to the side slightly and puffs out one cheek. then, he pokes that cheek with his forefinger. you stare at him with a bored look and when you don’t go along with his antics, he turns back to you.

“baby,” he whines out, “come on, hm? please? pretty please?”

he bats his eyelashes at you in an attempt to get you to kiss him. his eyelashes are pretty, you think for a moment.

seungcheol does the same thing again and this time you give in, leaning forward to kiss his round cheek. when you move back, he smiles softly at you, both dimples displayed on his rosy cheeks.

there’s this monster (it’s a good monster) inside you that makes you want to crush seungcheol in a hug and squish his cheeks with both of your hands forever because of how cute he is.

that’s exactly what you do, though. you couldn’t hold back, it was way too difficult when he’s just lying there, looking so adorable for no reason.

“cherry, sit up.”

he doesn’t know why you’re asking that but he does it anyways, it’s not like he would ever say no to you.

you lunge at him, throwing your arms around his thick neck and then proceeding to jump into his lap to wrap your legs around his waist. you squeeze your arms and legs around him and he grunts at the strength you use.

“baby, what are you doing?” he manages to get out, given how hard your arms were squeezing his neck.

your throat makes a nose similar to a dinosaur’s roar, “i’m loving you! but stop being so cute or i’ll explode!”

laughter bubbles out of seungcheol’s throat, his chest rumbling with the sound. you’re trying not to burst at the seams and he’s laughing? that’s really mean of him.

“stop laughing or i’ll kiss you until you can’t breathe!”

“i think i’d be sad if you didn’t do that, baby.”

[wlntrsldler]

heartless | luke castellan

MDNI!!!!!!

fuckboy! luke (kinda) but also kind of loser!luke a little bit. enemies to lovers (more of sexual tension really); not canon, no betrayal, and pokes fun of aphrodite girls but yk i love them, this is just for the plot. ares!reader x luke castellan.

i. never need a bitch, i'm what a bitch need, tryna find the one that can fix me; i've been dodging death in the six-speed.

there were many things about being a half-blood that luke hated. having a deadbeat father ranks highly on the list, obviously, and the lack of exposure to the real world was up there, too. he ran away from camp once during the year when there weren’t many kids around. it was right after his eighteenth birthday when he thought that his life would magically change for the better now that he beat the odds (sue him for being hopeful), but when the clock hit midnight and he was still stuck on his cramped, cot in the corner of the hermes cabin, he decided enough was enough. 

he did his final cabin checks and left camp after, wandering aimlessly until he found the train station to take him straight to the city. he hopped over the turnstile and squeezed himself into the crowded subway car. the first thing that struck luke was how different each group of people was from each other. in one corner, there were businessmen in itchy suits, trying to check out the group of girls across from them, clearly dressed for a night out. luke scoffed at them, smirking to himself when one of the men flushed in embarrassment at the fact that luke caught him. 

what a fucking loser, luke thought. 

there was a girl around luke’s age, sneaking glances at him. she was pretty; blonde, pouty-lipped, and definitely interested. at this point, luke hadn’t been experienced. other than the aphrodite girls flirting with him and the occasional hazed and rushed makeout sessions during the campfires, luke hadn’t done anything with anyone. but if he can make the daughters of the goddess of love blush, surely it couldn’t be that difficult to make a mortal fall under his charm too. 

he was right. 

he shot her one of his signature smirks, feeling a sense of pride bloom in his chest when she had to grab onto the pole in front of her to keep steady. luke adjusted the navy sweater he had on, tugging on the collar a bit to show off a little skin. his silver necklace sat nicely on his neck and he watched subway girl’s eyes rake over his body. luke bit his bottom lip, motioning for the girl to take the empty seat beside him. her eyes widened, but she did what she was told. 

unfortunately, reality caught up with him quickly when a hellhound found him as he was exiting the subway car with the pretty girl (jessie? jane? janet? he doesn’t remember.) around his arm. luke castellan was a lot of things, but a killer wasn’t one of them, so he made some stupid excuse to the girl about why he had to leave just so he could keep her safe. (it killed him to do it. he’s a teenage boy. he has needs.) the girl walked away, upset, huffing to her friends about how he wasted her time and got her hopes up. luke just rolled his eyes and dislodged his small knife from his pocket sitting beside his half-smoked cigarette box, ready to take on the hellhound. 

“you couldn’t wait ‘til i at least got to second base?” luke cringed, partly at himself for talking to the hellhound like it could talk back to him. “had to show up right now, huh, buddy?” 

he received a growl in return. 

the fight wasn’t too terrible, but after the hellhound whimpered, walking away in defeat, luke was too tired to continue his exploration of the real world. he hopped on the train back to camp, clutching the scratch the hellhound left on him. his (only nice piece of clothing) navy sweater was ruined. the thread was falling apart where the hellhound dug its claws in and it was stained with his blood. he would’ve fought better and avoided the injury if his balls weren’t fucking blue. 

luke closed his eyes, breathing heavily. even though it was only for a few minutes, the idea of being a regular teenager, flirting with girls, going to clubs, drinking cheap tequila from a plastic bottle, was something luke yearned for. he only got to experience a fraction of it. he wanted to experience it more, preferably without testing death each time. 

the older kids heard of luke’s adventure when they saw the counselor walking into the apollo cabin the following morning to get his wounds treated. he made a note to never tell chris anything again because the boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he tried. by lunch, the entire camp, including chiron and mr. d, heard about luke’s unplanned visit to the city and his interaction with one of hades’ guards. 

“luke.” 

he turned around, eyebrows furrowed, then raised in surprise. in front of him were three aphrodite girls, pouting at him. he crossed his arms across his chest, smirking, “what’s up, gorgeous?” 

“heard you went looking for some fun last night.” 

“are we not good enough for you, luke?” 

“why would you go looking for better when you have the best right here in camp?” 

luke wanted to laugh. the aphrodite girls were always so bold with their words, but when it came down to the wire, they would never want to disappoint their mom by being with the golden boy-turned-teenage dirtbag. he respected it, though. their allegiance to their mom was admirable. if aphrodite was his godly parent and she gave him the power to always be attractive, he didn’t think he’d do anything to piss her off either. 

“why do you think i came back?” luke flirted, running a hand through his curls, “realized there was nobody like you.” 

the three girls blushed and giggled, even if none of them knew who his comment was actually directed toward. they waved goodbye to him, and he watched them walk away, admiring the view. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

luke couldn’t stop his lips from quirking upwards at the sound of your voice, “what now, y/n?” 

you and luke had been at each other’s throats since you first got to camp half-blood. you, as the daughter of ares, one of his favorites coming only second to clarisse, pushed luke’s buttons like no other. you walked into camp and immediately saw through his boy-next-door facade and saw him for who he truly was. usually, luke would hate you for it, but now, it was hard for him not to think about shutting you up in other ways. less friendly ways, but if he had his ways, just as harsh. 

the rivalry began when you were fourteen. the title of best swordsman bounced between the two of you over the years. luke currently has the title, but it was only because he cheated; he swears he’s just better, but there’s no universe where you’d actually admit luke castellan was better than you at something. the five seconds between you being chosen to be head counselor for the ares cabin and him being chosen as the head counselor for the hermes cabin were the best five seconds of your life. it was the only time you held a higher position than him. 

luke quite enjoyed your little banter (when you weren’t around to ruin his game). it only got better when he had his huge growth spurt and you could no longer reach things when he held it up over his head. when you didn’t talk and run your mouth (usually cursing at him or cursing him), luke thought you might even be cute. he loved making you turn red, even if it was out of pure anger over his antics, but his favorite is when he gets you tongue-tied because his dirty, teenage brain makes him say something before he thinks.

“there’s no way that actually worked on them.” 

“take a look for yourself,” luke motioned to the group of girls who were now whispering and shooting heart eyes at him. “it always works.” 

“oh, get your head out your ass, castellan,” you spat. 

“spitting is not going to get you the reaction you might think,” luke smirked, eyeing you up and down. your eyes widened and you looked away from him to hide the redness of your cheeks. like that. luke licked his lips, “might actually have the opposite effect on me.” 

“you’re disgusting.” 

luke let out a full belly laugh as you walked away from him. sure, there were some pretty shitty things about camp half-blood, but there were some pretty great things there too, and messing with you is on the top of his list. 

ii. hundred models gettin' faded in the compound, tryna love me but they never get a pulse down.

“do you guys always fight like this?” 

you and luke peeled your eyes away from each other at the sound of percy’s voice. the poor boy was looking between his two mentors, torn because he had no idea who to listen to. you sighed, walking over to him. 

you placed a hand on his shoulder, “sorry, percy. luke is just… forget it, let’s just try it one more time, yeah?” 

“luke is just what?” luke asked, an eyebrow raised in a challenge. “finish your sentence, y/n. c’mon.” 

“the words i’d like to use wouldn’t be appropriate for a twelve-year-old to hear.” 

“‘m from new york, i probably heard it already,” percy shrugged, pausing. “come to think of it, i probably used it before.” 

luke let out a chuckle, patting percy on the back. “my man.” 

“can you not encourage cussing, head counselor?” 

“fine, i guess you’re just gonna have to tell me what you were going to say later. in private.” 

“castellan,” you smacked his chest. hard. you were furious with luke, but you couldn’t help but flush at his suggestive words, “don’t start.” 

percy frowned, “i don’t get it.” 

luke took mercy on you and wrapped an arm around the boy. he led percy away, promising to continue working on his sword skills later after capture the flag. before they disappeared from your view, luke made sure to turn around to shoot you a wink. you flipped him off in return. 

it wasn’t always like this between you and luke. once upon a time, your banters were innocent, like kids fighting over the last piece of candy in the jar. luke literally used to pull your hair when he was behind you in the line for food and you used to stick your foot out to trip him when he was playing tag with his siblings. 

but then, he returned from his quest. at first, you felt bad for him. he came back unable to complete it, and he was permanently scarred from it. it must’ve been difficult to have that constant reminder. after a few months, though, when his scar was almost fully healed, the whispers about how attractive luke castellan was started. luke closed himself off after his quest and spent his time doing extra training. you could lie and say that all the extra workouts didn’t do wonders for him, but nobody would believe you anyway. 

in short, luke castellan got hot. he was no longer the pesky little boy you bantered with. he got taller, broader, and dirtier. you weren’t dumb, you knew the innuendos that he would throw at you. you were in the same sex ed class as he was in. (side note: mr. d teaching teenagers about sex ed was your own personal version of hell. tartarus be damned.) somehow, luke turned into a teenage heartthrob at camp and all of a sudden, all the girls were throwing themselves at him. it made you sick, but what made you more sick, was that you understood why. 

ever since luke’s confidence skyrocketed and he leaned into his bad boy persona, there was a different charge in your banter; as if instead of trying to push your buttons, now, he was trying to get you under him. from blowing his cigarette smoke directly into your direction to all his dirty comments, luke castellan was acting like he wanted you. and surprisingly, you didn’t stop him. 

“can y’all just fuck already?” you spun around to find clarisse leaning against a tree, her spear mounted on the floor. she had a teasing smile on her lips, “maybe once you hate-fuck, you guys will get it out your systems.” 

“ew, castellan?” you sneered. your nose scrunched up in disgust, though your stomach churned at the thought of it. “never in a million years.” 

“dude, the sexual tension between you guys is insane,” she shrugged, walking over to you. “come on, sis, you can’t pretend like you don’t feel it.” 

“i feel a lot of things for luke castellan, but wanting to fuck him is not one of them.” 

you’re a liar. you knew that. clarisse knew that. but you’re thankful that your sister didn’t call you out on your bullshit. 

she laughed, “whatever you say. now, ready to train me?” 

you spun your sword around expertly, “always.” 

this week’s game of capture the flag was eventful. you lost, much to your dismay, but the results of the game were overshadowed by poseidon claiming percy as his kid. the subject of forbidden kids were a touchy subject, for obvious reasons, but you knew that it was especially hard for luke. you didn’t know thalia well, but with how often annabeth talked about her, you felt like you knew her. 

luke never talked about thalia, though. you figured it was because it was too painful for him to think about. he knew her longer than annabeth did and his memories of her were much more vivid than the young girl’s. with percy being poseidon’s kid, you knew that it was bound to bring up some unwanted memories for the hermes counselor. but what shocked you was seeing luke sitting with his siblings at the campfire instead of being surrounded by fawning girls like he usually was. whenever his team won, he would bask in the glory of the win, shotgunning smoke into the mouth of whoever was closest to him before disappearing for a bit only to come back with marks all over his neck. 

but tonight, he was sitting next to chris, a beer can in his hand, staring directly at you. the red cup in your hand filled with mysterious liquor was cold to the touch. clarisse was trying to hide the smile on her face as she watched you and luke lock eyes. she mumbled a fake excuse, running away to leave you alone while she tried to find silena. luke chugged the rest of his beer before crushing the can in his hand and walking over to you. 

you stood your ground, feet planted on the floor, with your arms folded across your chest. “no celebration tonight castellan?” 

“not unless you want to celebrate with me,” he replied. 

“shut the fuck up,” you sighed. 

luke watched as your arms pushed your tits up your chest. he couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip, watching your chest rise and fall as you took your breaths. he was almost tempted to burn his toast tomorrow morning just to thank the gods that you decided to wear a low-cut shirt tonight. your camp necklace was resting on top of your tits and he wanted to reach over and count the beads on your necklace. four, just one less than he has. 

“i love that you’re a sore loser,” he said, pulling out the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear. “makes it so easy to mess with you.” 

“‘m not a sore loser,” you argued, absentmindedly pulling out the lighter in your pocket. 

he was surprised by your actions. he knew you smoked, but you’d never smoked with him before. he pulled out a cigarette for you which you gladly took. you lit yours first then leaned over for him to light his own. luke shook his head, bringing up his index finger for you to come closer. he lit his cigarette with the burning end of yours, humming in appreciation when the nicotine hit his senses. 

“you are,” he blew out the smoke, “but it’s adorable.” 

“flirting with me isn’t gonna get you very far, castellan. you should know this by now.” 

“what, you want me to be mean to you?” luke said it teasingly, but then he saw your shoulders freeze for a millisecond. he chuckled, darkly, voice dropping an octave when he spoke again. “holy shit, you’re into that.” 

“none of your fucking business,” you shook your head, thankful that you had at least one substance already in your system to keep you from turning red. 

“it’s hot, y/n, own it,” he shrugged his shoulders, turning a bit to face the rest of the campers. all of the younger kids were off in their own world. they knew better than to hang out with the older kids at these things. he had a cocky smile on his face when he turned to you again, “i can be mean, if you want, y’know. just say the word.” 

you downed the drink, needing some sort of liquid courage if you were going to keep this conversation going. clarisse and silena were watching you and luke a few feet away and you can tell by their faces that they weren’t going to come save you from the conversation even if you begged them to. “that kind defeats the purpose, no?” 

“what do you mean?” 

you wiped the drop of liquor away from the corner of your lips, “having to ask you to be mean. you should just be mean without me asking.” 

luke’s eyes darkened. sure, he flirted with you, but you never kept up with him before. you usually tell him to fuck off and walk away, leaving him with a head full of images of your red, embarrassed face, to keep him occupied at night. “noted.” 

you shoved the empty cup into his chest, taking a puff out of your cigarette before walking away, “no need to take notes, castellan. i know you’re all talk anyway.” 

iii. 'cause i'm heartless and i'm back to my ways 'cause i'm heartless.

luke was pissed. you can tell by the way his shoulders were tense. you just disarmed him during practice, the tip of your sword resting comfortably under his jaw. the title was yours again. 

“say you surrender,” you taunted, pushing the sword just a little deeper on his skin, but not enough to cause any damage, “say you surrender and i’ll let you leave with some dignity.” 

“this doesn’t count,” he replied, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “i was distracted.” 

and he was. you took your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra, at around the third sparring session. the sun was beating down harshly on the both of you and the lack of a breeze in the air didn’t help. your chest was glistening with sweat and you were breathing heavily. luke took his eyes away from your moves for a second to look at your figure and you took advantage of it. 

“no excuses, castellan,” you lifted his face up with your sword, “surrender.” 

“fine,” he relented. he got up from his knees when you removed the sword from his jaw, “i surrender.” 

“good.” you twirled your sword in your hand, walking away from him to grab a sip of water. your back was turned and luke couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down the curve of your spine. your muscles were defined, no doubt due to the hours of sparring you just did, and your hair cascaded perfectly down when you pulled it out of the ponytail you had it in. he wanted to wrap it around his fist and pull it. 

“fuck,” he groaned, trying to push down his hardening cock in his cargo pants. the action didn’t do anything to help. it was no use. 

“what was that?” you tossed the bottle of water on the ground as you turned to face him. your eyes widened as you took in the image in front of you. luke was staring at you, lips slightly parted, hair in disarray as if he just ran his hand through it, and his pants were tight around his dick. “luke…” 

fuck it, he thought. 

“shut up.” 

luke marched over to you, grabbing your face with a force that knocked you off balance. it was disorienting feeling his lips hungrily over yours because it felt so damn good. his hands migrated from your face down to your ass, gripping it and massaging the flesh so he could push you closer to him. you could feel his hard cock poking against your skin and you moaned at the feeling. luke wanted to bottle the sound so he could listen to it whenever he wanted to. 

he pushed you against a tree, grinding his aching hips against yours. he could feel your wetness growing against his pants. he pulled away from your lips, turning your face to the side to give himself access to your neck. he licked a stripe up your jugular, mixing his saliva with the sweat on your skin. he started his attack on your neck, nipping, sucking, licking, everywhere he could. you couldn’t help but whimper at his actions. 

against your better judgment, you pulled him away by threading your fingers through his curls. his eyes were closed, mouth agape when he knocked his forehead against yours. you tugged on the hair by the nape of his neck, “you’re not fucking me, luke.” 

“fuck, okay,” he breathed out. he was horny, but he respected your wishes. 

“not today,” you placed a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away. his lips followed yours, but you tutted, “but you can watch me if you let me watch you.” 

“yes,” his eyes snapped open, moving away from you to give you space. 

“come here,” you walked away from him, motioning him to come to the patch of grass secluded from the training area. he followed you, hissing as he tried to adjust himself in his pants. you lay on the grass, propping yourself up on your elbows. your hand slowly trailed down to your pants before you dipped your finger inside your underwear. your back arched as you felt how wet you were from the earlier interaction with luke. 

luke sat at your feet, undoing his pants. he pulled out his cock; red, dripping, and angry. he felt his confidence rise when you moaned at the sight of it. his veiny hand was wrapped at the base of his cock, slowly pumping. his voice was broken as he spoke, “let me see you.” 

for a moment, you were vulnerable, hesitating to expose everything to him. but luke’s face showed nothing but desire and you melted under his gaze. you shimmied out of your pants, tossing them somewhere near, before opening your legs for him to see you. your fingers pulled apart your folds, showing him your slick-covered pussy. 

“prettiest fucking pussy in the world,” he groaned, watching as you circled your clit. “fucking perfect, y/n.” 

his words spurred you on. you dipped two fingers inside, mewling at the stretch. luke flicked the tip of his dick, moaning at how your fingers disappeared as you pumped them inside you. he can hear your wetness loud and clear and he wanted nothing more than to slurp it up with his tongue, but he can be patient. this can be enough for now. 

his hand moved faster on his dick, the muscles on his arm tensing with each stroke. he watched as you threw your head back in pleasure, admiring the marks he left on your skin. a feeling of possessiveness bloomed in his chest knowing that he marked you. 

“want a taste?” 

luke nodded, crawling over to your outstretched fingers while still pumping his cock. his lips hollowed to suck off your juices from your fingers, eyes closing at the sweet taste. his tongue danced between your fingers, licking them clean. you watched in awe as he hungrily sucked off your fingers. there were beads of sweat trickling down the edge of his face, his curls were sticky on his forehead, and there was a look of pure bliss on his features. 

“so sweet,” he whispered, letting your fingers go with a pop. “fuck, y/n.” 

“luke,” you panted, continuing to get yourself off. “i’m close.” 

“give it to me,” he said. his voice was nearly gone. “need it.” 

there was something about luke castellan begging you to cum for him that made your head spin. you came, hard, all over your fingers while he watched you come undone. the image of you cumming, the whisper of his name leaving your lips, was going to be burned into his memory forever. 

“i’m coming,” luke groaned, the veins in his neck popping out as he gritted his teeth. “open up.” 

you moved closer to him, leaning down with your tongue out for him. he pumped his cock until white spurts covered your pink, patient tongue. he wanted to take a picture of you right now for later. eyes closed, makeup on your face ruined, hickeys on your neck on full display while his cum coated your tongue. you were a wet dream come to life. 

luke gripped blades of grass with his other hand, trying to steady himself as he watched you swallow his load. when you opened your eyes, you opened your mouth to show him you didn’t waste a drop, and luke couldn’t do anything else but kiss you to show his appreciation. 

you had avoided luke after your training session. you didn’t know what got into you doing that with him, but one thing was for sure, the tension didn’t disappear after it. it just got worse. 

everywhere you went, you felt his eyes following your every move. he would stare at you, eyes narrowed, during classes or during meals. but he never did anything. 

until he lost at capture the flag. you skipped the celebration, opting to stay alone in the ares cabin to avoid running into luke. the whole situation left you with so many questions that you were afraid to get the answer to. you fucked yourself in front of luke. and you liked it. there hasn’t been a day since when you didn’t think about his cock and how it would feel inside of you. it was getting pitiful how often you got off thinking about him. his sounds, his face when he came, his taste. everything. 

you were getting ready for bed when you heard the door of the ares cabin slam open. you turned your head, eyes widening, when you saw luke walking towards you, kicking the door shut. he didn’t break eye contact with you as he reached the foot of your bed. 

he licked his lips, “you’re avoiding me.” 

“i’m not,” you lied, tugging your blanket up to cover yourself. “was just too tired to celebrate.” 

“bullshit,” he ripped the blanket away from your body, “you want mean, right? i can give you mean.” 

you pushed your thighs together, making him smirk.

luke got on your bed, his knees on either side of you. he pushed his head into the crook of your neck, leaving rough kisses on your skin. your hands flew up to his hair, pulling softly, “my pretty girl won’t betray me.” 

it took you a minute to realize that he wasn’t talking about you. his fingers rubbed on your clit over your pajama shorts, making you arch into him. you whimpered, “luke, please.” 

“nuh uh,” he pulled away from your neck, “you don’t get to say please, anymore. you’re gonna take my dick until i’m done.” 

luke connected your lips. his lips were relentless against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. he groaned at the feeling of your hand reaching down to palm him. he grinded his hips into your hand, lips sloppily crashing against yours. luke put all his weight on one arm, using the other one to lightly wrap his fingers around your throat. he did an experimental squeeze, growing harder when you moaned in pleasure at the pressure. 

clothes were flying off both of your bodies after that. your pants drowned out the faint hum of the campers away at the campfire. luke pulled away from your lips, marking your neck again. the hickeys he left you were already fading and he hated not seeing the remnants of his time with you on your skin. he trailed the hickeys down your body, spending extra time on your plush thighs. he pried your legs open, sighing in content when your pussy welcomed his thick fingers. 

he pressed his tongue against your folds, closing his eyes at the sounds of pleasure that left your lips. his lips wrapped around your bud, sucking, until you were lifting your hips up. he placed an arm across your stomach, pressing down on you to keep you still. from where you were lying, you could only see his eyes. his eyes were boring into yours, watching your reaction to learn what you liked. when his tongue darted inside of you, touching that spongy part, your face contorted in unparalleled pressure and luke knew that he needed to keep hitting that spot. 

you were a mess under him. you’ve never came before unless it was your own doing, but you were dangerously close to the edge with how luke was eating your pussy. he was determined to have your wetness coat his tongue. he’d been dreaming of tasting you since you last let him. he’d been craving it. 

when your thighs pressed against the side of his head, he knew it was coming. he used his thumb to draw figure eights on your clit. you came with a cry, his name repeating off your lips like a mantra, like a prayer. 

luke pulled away from your pussy, wiping the wetness on his chin away with his forearm. he pumped his cock in his hand a few times, hissing at the pain of it being forgotten. 

“luke,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. you clung onto him like a lifeline. “give me a second.” 

he took in your state. all fucked out just from his tongue. his jaw ticked, “been givin’ you space for days, don’t think you deserve any more.”

“fuck!” you cried as his dick entered you. luke had to shut his eyes to keep himself from cumming. your pussy was so tight and so wet and so greedy for his cock. he pushed all the way in, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. 

“perfect fucking pussy, like i said,” luke’s voice was hoarse as he thrusted into you. his hand grabbed one of your tits, flicking the hardened bud with his fingers. he continued to snap his hips into you as he leaned down to your ear, “been thinking about fucking you dumb with my cock.” 

“been-ah- thinking about it too,” you admitted, cheeks growing red at his words. you were clawing at his back, no doubt leaving marks, “been touching myself thinking about you.” 

“looks like you’re the one who’s all talk, y/n,” he was going faster now, reveling in the sounds that your connected bodies were making with each push of his cock. reminders of your first orgasm were all over his base. “made me watch you fuck your perfect pussy, then-fuck- avoiding me.” 

“didn’t think you were serious with your words.” 

luke pulled out of you completely. you got a good look at him for the first time. his nostrils were flared, chest heaving as he pumped his cock in his hand. he made a noise, “seems like i’m not doing my job right.” 

you reached out for him, pussy tightening around nothing, “huh?” 

“you’re still being smart,” luke grabbed your hips then and turned you around. you arched your back for him, giving him a view of your ass. he rubbed his hands over the flesh, slapping it. he pushed your head down on your pillow, wrapping your messy hair around his fist. he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “told you, i wanted to fuck you dumb on my cock.” 

he thrusted into you with fervor, skin slapping as he took you from behind. luke watched as your ass bounced sinfully against him as he pushed his cock deeper into you. with this angle, he can can push into you more easily. he was on his knees, holding your hips flush against his body. the sounds you were making as his cock found your pussy were delicious. 

you were incoherent then, mumbling into your pillow, begging for him to keep going. luke wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. when your second orgasm of the night came crashing down, you screamed luke’s name loudly. 

he came inside you, ropes of milky cum coating your gummy walls. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he moved your hair away to place kisses on your back. 

when you both got dressed, luke left a lingering kiss on your raw lips. he left one last hickey on the side of your jaw, “training. tomorrow. don’t be late.” 

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 3)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3147

(Part 1) (Part 2)

_________________________________________

Rhysand’s face hurts.

His hands do, too, but the scrapes and splits in the skin of his knuckles have nothing on the cut in his lip, which currently stings from the rush of alcohol that passes over his lips.

It’s cold, crisp, and free, so it’s the best beer he’s had all night.

Hell, his cheek is bruised too. It’s not a Picasso of mottled yellows, greens, and purples yet—curtesy of the time he spent poking and prodding the knotted bump in one of the locker room mirrors, post shower.

The only thing that isn’t bruised is his ego because he more than won that fight against the Penguin’s center, Kallias Winterborough. He fucking wiped the ice with him and then proceeded to use the rest of his team to clean house.

Somewhere in the Hockey House—aptly named for the number of players that reside in the five-bedroom, two-story craftsman—you and his cousin meander around, violet Solo Cups in hand because the red ones are so overrated. Plus, one of their biggest rivals—the Foxes—wear crimson, and no one at Velaris University would ever be caught repping that team at one of his parties.

It's a move he’s regretting a little too much right now, unable to revel in the Bat’s big win with his lip split in two. Fucker got him good, he can admit, but never aloud. Cassian would never let him live it down and Azriel would shoot him a scathing glare at the mere mention of another school’s team under their roof.

Az takes his superstitions seriously.

“Rhys, dude.” Cassian stumbles in through the square arch connecting the spacious living room to the cozy kitchen. It’s the only thing Rhysand doesn’t like about the Hockey House: no open floorplan. That means, when he plays host as he so often does because he can’t afford a hangover from hell following most mornings, he can’t see what’s going on in the kitchen if he’s in the living room or vice versa.

He can’t see people sneaking up the stairs, and even though he keeps his room locked at all times following the Cassian Incident™ that included two leggy blondes and the Frozen Four first place trophy—announcing the next afternoon that blondes do, in fact, have more fun—he still doesn’t trust a horde of university students on a high from their win not to do anything stupid.

Speaking of stupid…Cassian slides to a halt beside him. He’s so eager to share whatever the hell with Rhys that he overshoots, slamming his hip into the counter. His friend howls, and much unto Rhys’ surprise, others join in, like it’s some kind of victory cry and not one that says ‘I just bashed my hip in, somebody help me, please.’

Rhysand is in no mood to help.

“What’s up, Cass?” Rhys sighs, frowning when he tips his bottle back to his mouth only to find it empty. He hadn’t realized how much he drank; thought he was nursing it with the way his lip burns.

Cassian’s face contorts from pain back to amused like a flick of a switch and the pain was long forgotten. His nose is permanently crooked from the number of times he’s broken it during fights both on and off the ice, and he’d be missing one of his pearly whites if he hadn’t just gotten it fixed earlier this week. Thankfully, his moustache has been shaved off for tonight, showing off his plump, pink lips. His brunet hair is the longest on the team, just brushing the tops of his massive shoulders, and thankfully. On one side, it’s tucked tightly behind his ear, showing off the gold ring he punched through it on a dare at their first party freshman year.

Cassian’s hazel eyes have a spark in them that 1: Rhys has seen too many times, and 2: never means anything good.

Rhysand narrows his own, breaking that eager contact to scour the kitchen for another beer because goddammit, he’s going to need it with the way his friend is all but shaking with excitement.

“Have you found your nurse yet?” Cassian asks, trailing him around the marble slab counter.

“My what?” Rhysand side-steps a couple making out so hard that they go crashing into the first thing that isn’t each other: the wall. The petite girl with bright blue hair whimpers loudly, and the noise is swallowed up by the guy that’s sticking his tongue straight down her windpipe.

It looks grosser than it seems, Rhys defends when a pang of want slaps him right in the chest.

“Your nurse, dude,” Cassian whines. He slips on a rogue wet patch on the obsidian floor tiles and now Rhysand has another thing to dislike in this house. All he needs is someone cracking their skull open on his kitchen floor or the couple to fall and have his teeth through her lips from the impact. “You know, cause you’re all injured.” He waves flippantly towards Rhysand’s wounds.

“I don’t need a nurse,” Rhys answers, confused. He pulls open the fridge and snags two beers off of the shelf Cassian and two of his other roommates have dedicated it to. He hands one to his friend, who pops the top off with his teeth, and Rhys raises an unimpressed brow. “I didn’t get that hurt.” Plus, he’s already been to see the team trainer for his shiners.

He busies himself with the beer opener that’s stuck to the side of the fridge, then grabs the roll of paper towels from their holder to wipe up the mess Cassian’s leaving footprints with. Well, he unrolls a few and tosses them onto the spill, anyway.

“No, I mean like a lady nurse.” Cassian waggles his brows. “Someone who can kiss you better, maybe even give you a hand—”

And, well, that might just help his mood.

“Hey.” Azriel breezes into the kitchen like he’s still on his skates. He has his own cup in hand, filled with water. Rhys know this because he’s never seen Azriel drink anything other than water and the occasional coffee. He takes his training more seriously than half of the team, which bodes well for Rhys because he always has a gym buddy, but sometimes, he wishes his friend would let loose, even if it meant seeing a girl. Or sleeping with one. “Heads up.”

The warning has Rhys standing straighter, ready to abandon his beer on the counter to play his role as captain and the one in charge of the party. His roommates naturally defer to him in house affairs because they’re used to it, but really, Rhys doesn’t have much more room in his packed schedule for warding off drunk students and stopping fights.

The last thing he needs tonight is to find himself in the middle of a fight.

“Rhys!” A perky blonde squeals, and his shoulders drop for a second only to tense right back up when his cousin throws herself into his arms.

He catches her with an oof, spitting out her wild locks that somehow always end up everywhere. He loves his cousin dearly, like a sister, but why is she here right now?

He doesn’t see you following your roommate into the kitchen, jaw slack like it’s been since you first saw the Hockey House lit up in all of its glory. The place is absolutely massive, it looks like it could rival one of the houses on Greek row.

The kitchen is moody yet warm. The dark tiles match the onyx-stained flat arch you just walked through. The lighter gray marble countertop brightens the room, and the deep blue cabinets paired with the soft lighting paints the room in perfect synchrony.

It’s absolutely stunning.

Neither of you see the other at first. Rhys because he’s still trying to blink Mor’s hair from his eyes and you because you’re entranced by the interior design of the home. There’s no way five boys could possibly live here, let alone five hockey players. It’s a bit of a mess with the party raging around you, yes, but you haven’t seen one hole in the drywall, not one forgotten dish nor a pair of boxers left of the bathroom floor—you checked.

Because you were using the restroom of course, you weren’t looking for that specific reason.

“Hey, Mor,” Rhys greets when she finally detaches herself from him. She doesn’t go far, only stepping back enough to introduce you to him. “What are you doing here?”

Violet eyes clash with yours, drawing your heart to a standstill. He looks just as good as he did when you were sprawled out on his chest: dark hair clean and mussed through, red lips parted as if the words he wants to say are stuck in his throat.

The only thing different about him now is that cut in his lip and the redness to his cheek from his fight on the ice that you bore witness to.

The memory replays in your mind again, awakening tingles in your body that shouldn’t be. And just how you’re praying for them not to, they converge right between your thighs, settling in nice and hot and begging for attention as the sight of him with burning violet eyes as he decks his opposition across the jaw replays.

It really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and he himself shouldn’t be as hot as he is, either.

You hold yourself still, focusing eighty percent on your attention on trying to calm your eager bits down and the other twenty percent on making sure you don’t look constipated while doing so.

Rhys blinks at you and you return his blank stare, watching, waiting to see if he recognizes you, too.

Oh, he does.

“We came to see your game tonight,” she says, as if it isn’t obvious from your attire. The attire that Rhys is currently dragging his eyes down, drinking in every inch—all four of them—of the jersey your roommate forced you into tonight. You watch his eyes flare as he reads the number across your chest. His number, you’re just now realizing.

Heat floods your cheeks but you’re unable to bolt like you so desperately want to. Your heart is beating three times as fast in your chest as he slowly, slowly, rakes his gaze up from your legs that are glued to the floor, all the way to your eyes, that are glued to his face.

“This is (Y/N),” Mor announces, gesturing to you with a flourish. When you make no move forward to greet them, her red nails curl around the hem of your jersey and yank.

You stumble forward, and the trance is broken. Unfortunately, so is your face, because you slip in something on the tiles and are plummeting face-first into the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, lips parted to scream or groan, whichever your mind catches up to first—

The impact never comes. Strong hands grip your arms, stopping you from eating tile. You’re too stunned to speak, even when you’re planted back on your feet and staring into the chest you were lying on only this afternoon.

Rhysand Cunningham.

Jesus, you’re really going to have to stop saying his full name like that. It’s creepy.

“Easy now,” Rhys says, making sure you’re steady. You somehow find the courage to look him in the eyes, hastily tamping down the mortification that threatens to consume you.

As soon as your eyes lock, it’s like magic.

There’s no other way to describe whatever is happening between the two of you right now. His light touch is searing, and so are his eyes as he scans your face, making sure you’re not hurt.

Rhys’ abandoned beer sits precariously close to the edge of the counter, and Cassian accidentally knocks it off with his elbow when he dodges a playful swat Mor tosses his way. It goes crashing to the floor, startling you and Rhys from your trance.

You jump, gaze following the noise. Rhys’ hands slip from your body and you shiver at the cold that replaces him, even though it’s stifling in this house with the number of bodies packed into it. You manage one large step back that he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s already snatching the paper towels from where he put them last and barking at passerby to “be fucking careful.”

“I, uh,” you stutter, and holyfuckingshit, he’s leaning over to clean up the mess. You get a full view of that toned ass; despite the jeans he’s wearing. It’s perfect, round like an apple, juicy like one too, you bet. The sudden urge to lean over and sink your teeth into it hits you like a semi— “I need to use the bathroom.”

You scurry away from your roommate and her cousin like it’s your ass that’s just been bitten into.

Rhys grumbles the entire time he cleans up the spilt beer. Cassian tried to help, his chocolate eyes wide and sad, spouting off apologies like he did something much worse than break a fucking bottle, but hissed when he cut his thumb on a sharp edge. Rhys had pushed him away from the scene immediately after that.

He wonders if Cassian is going to bound off into the living room and find himself a nurse of his own, now.

“Hey, where did your friend go?” Rhys asks Mor who’s chewing on a cherry stem. He grimaces, not even knowing where those came from.

“Roommate,” Mor answers pointedly, serving him a harsh look that only confuses the hockey player.

“Okay…where did your roommate go?” He clarifies, eyes sweeping the room for you. Disappointment prickles at his skin just as much as the look his cousin is shooting him. He’d gotten his look at you alright, but he’s suddenly feeling like the single up-down he gave you was not nearly enough.

“To the bathroom,” she answers, rounding the counter, eyeing all of the opened bottles of liquor on top. She must not see anything she likes, because he doesn’t reach for anything. “Why?”

Why? Because you brought her here and I want to be nice? Rhys thinks. I want to get to know her, maybe somewhere private—

“I didn’t really get to introduce myself.” Is what he goes with.

Mor snorts, rolling her eyes because she is not falling for that one. “She’s off limits.”

“Then why did you bring her here?” Rhys blurts, unable to stifle the words before they slip out. Damn beer.

“Because we wanted to see your game,” Mor replies, watching her cousin closely.

If you wanted to see my game, you shouldn’t have warned me against your roommate, he thinks, and then cringes.

“Well, thanks for coming, cuz,” he offers, because there’s no good rhyme or reason to start arguing with her. Especially when both of their parents are just phone calls away.

He’d rather be getting the third degree from Mor than his mother, anyway.

Rhys swiftly changes the subject. “Hope you enjoyed me kicking some ass.”

Mor’s tight face melts into amusement. She laughs, tossing her head back on her shoulders. “Yeah, I really did enjoy that, actually.”

It’s at that exact moment that Rhys catches sight of you again. You’re caught halfway in the archway of the kitchen, presumably on your way back from the bathroom. Your lips are pulled into a smile as you giggle, and he wishes he could hear it over the gods-awful music. Your eyes are bright and he watches you brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks pinkening with a blush that makes him wonder just who’s putting that look on your face.

Rhys takes one step to the left and his entire body begins boiling with heat when he catches sight of one of his players speaking to you.

If she’s off limits to me, then my players are off limits to her.

And that’s exactly what they are, too, players. Mor’s right, he can’t end up letting one of his teammates fuck around with you, not when you’re so close to his cousin. She’d be devastated if you got hurt, and fuck it, he would too. He’d kill one of his guys if they broke your heart.

Rhys doesn’t talk sense into himself as he stalks your way, doesn’t think about the repercussions or his actions when he slides up to your side, all rigid muscles and sharp looks.

“What do we have here?” he asks, drawing you away from the friendly conversation you were having with the handsome hockey player about the types of tapes and casts that can be used when treating different injuries.

It’s James Attor, from your Athletic Training Techniques class. You’d recognized him, but didn’t know he played for the Velaris hockey team. He’s a sophomore like you, and more interested in the injuries part of his sport than the actual scoring.

“Oh, hey, Cap,” James greets, shrinking under the scrutinizing gaze of his team leader. He knows that look, it’s the one Rhys gets before he’s about to lose his mind on the ice. “I was just talking to (Y/N) about—”

“About nothing,” Rhys finishes for him, and you frown. What the hell is his problem?

“James, wait,” you call, but it’s too late, he’s already slipped into the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the living room, and you don’t have supervision to see through them.

Whirling around on your heel, you glare up at Rhys. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Rhys asks, striding back towards the kitchen. You decide that playing stupid doesn’t look good on him. And neither does that split lip.

You can’t believe you wanted to get closer. For a better look at his wounds, of course.

“That!” You exclaim, throwing your arm out and pointing where you were just standing. It serves no purpose because Rhys isn’t facing you, which only stokes your anger further. “I was talking to him!”

“Yeah,” he rounds on his feet so fast you don’t even see it coming and for the second time today, you run smack dab into the middle of his chest.

This time, you don’t tumble into a pile of limbs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“And I’d prefer it if you don’t,” Rhys finishes, chest tight. He feels on edge at the way your body pressed up against his, like lightning in his veins. He grits his teeth, willing the feeling to go away.

“Yeah,” you scoff, tossing him your best glare. You cross your arms over your chest for effect, but all it does is make that skimpy shirt you’re wearing ride up more, and both Rhys’ eyes and throat catch at the sight of your creamy skin. Your word sounds like a threat when you say, “Unlikely.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd

[denwritesandcries]

sleepy!Tara Carpenter HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: In all the times you fall asleep with Tara, she's always in your arms.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: cursing, mentions of ghostface, fluff, slightly angst, LOTS of cuddles, sleep disorders, tara's horrible sleep habits.

Note: Alright, I don't know who first started the headcanon of Tara sleepwalking, but thank you cause it made me think about things.

English is not my first language.

- Tara has many different facets of behavior when she's sleepy and all of them end with her acting like a clingy koala.

- Will use you as her personal pillow at every opportunity she gets, whether in quick naps or during the night. Don't even try to escape it. Head lying on your shoulder or lap, leaning against your body and completely melted in your arms.

- If she's too drunk after a party, she'll pass out on you the second you lie down and even if she's mad after a fight, she'll drag you to the bed by your wrist and put your arms around her waist, fixing you the way she wants, before crossing her arms with a frown and her back turned to you.

- It's no use tho, a few minutes later she turns around again to bury her face in your chest or neck and intertwine your legs together. A stupid argument isn't worth a bad night's sleep, even if she's still very mad at you (she’s not).

- Has frequent nightmares, but doesn't like to talk about it. Tara wakes up scared and with her heart racing and becomes extremely shy and quiet as she asks you to hold her tighter.

- She insists that her dreams don't scare her anymore, but the way she's clearly alarmed after it happens tells you enough to know that it's not true, so you just do as she asks and do your best to make sure she doesn't spend the nights alone and embarrassed of being affected by it.

- Tara often can't go back to sleep after them, so she follows you around the apartment while you stay up with her, insisting that she's not tired even though she yawns loudly while you prepare a late-night snack or put on some random show for you to watch on TV.

- Poor baby has had a lot of trouble falling asleep since Ghostface – she has practically chronic dark circles under her eyes – let alone sleeping peacefully, so when it happens, Tara sleeps like a rock. As if there could be a bang in the house and she still wouldn't wake up.

- It’s a sleepwalker and sleep talker. Tara is very restless – you've already been kicked a few times because of that. Better be prepared to be frightened a lot until you get used to it, because she won't admit that she actually does this. You don't know if she just doesn't want to admit it out of shame or if she's in denial – or maybe she's just gaslighting you for fun, who knows? Your girlfriend can be a little smartass when she wants.

- Tara says disjointed words most of the time, what she's dreaming about or conversations you've had throughout the week, topics you didn't even remember talking about but suddenly her hoarse voice wakes you up and she's mumbling about something silly that the core four did together or even full sentences that leave you simply confused.

- At first you think she’s actually talking to you and you poke her to ask what she's saying and she wakes up irritated. Girly gets so, so grumpy about you waking her up, why the hell did you do that? She was so comfortable sprawled on top of you. What is that? No, she didn't say anything. Shush.

You wake up one night with a hand too small to be another Ghostface slapping you squarely in the nose, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking around in alarm, only to find Tara in the far corner of the bed lying in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable, one of her legs hooked into the crook of your knee.

“...the car,” she mumbled and you moved closer to hear better, confused and scratching one of your eyes to ward off the tiredness.

“What?” You ask quietly, holding back a yawn, “What you said, baby?”

Tara shifts her position, looking slightly uncomfortable, her hand almost reaching you again as she rubs her face into the pillow.

“No,” she turns again, “The blue car.”

Why does it feel like she's angry with you?

Noticing that her eyes were still tightly closed, you arch an eyebrow and lightly shake her shoulder.

“What car?” you ask when she finally opens her eyes.

“What?” Tara looks just as perplexed as you.

“The car. The blue car,” you repeat, curious, “What about that?”

She stares at you for a long moment, seeming to try to assimilate what you're saying.

“You woke me up to talk about a damn car?”

"You tell me!" You exclaim, “What’s with the blue car?”

Tara snorts in complete disbelief, adjusting herself back in your arms and choosing to ignore your confused expression. You lay there, cradling her safely and being the one without sleep this time, wondering what the hell car she was talking about.

- Sometimes she murmurs variations of 'I love you', spoken softly against the skin of your neck, so over time it stops confusing you and becomes just captivating.

- You almost have a heart attack when you see her sleepwalking for the first time, thinking that someone had broken into the apartment.

- Sam had to sit down with you and explain to you that Tara does this since they were kids, after the high scream you gave when you saw a five-foot shadow trying to open the wardrobe with unfocused eyes and failing miserably.

- You woke up the whole house – including your girlfriend – with the sound, but at least it gave you all a good laugh and a completely confused Tara cursing everyone and going back to bed.

- In defense of her and your sleep, this doesn't happen that much. These are peculiarities that occur mainly due to stress; if she has a fight with you or Sam, for example, or during college tryout season.

- It also happens because of the nightmares she has. You and Sam are convinced that this would improve if she went to therapy like her sister, but you know how stubborn your girlfriend is.

- This also becomes captivating, you no longer wake everyone up when you find her sitting at the kitchen counter writing a grocery list in the dark because she forgot to do the task during the day and kept that in mind.

- You always gently guide her back to bed and she curls up around you immediately, because as much as the 'You can't wake a sleepwalker!' thing is bullshit, it's better not to have to deal with the sad pout on her tired face when this happens.

- Tara is a BIG cuddler. Even if she doesn't stay like that all night, she has to have your body touching hers and fall asleep like that.

- She is usually the little spoon, but likes to be the big one when she is angry or feeling protective about something.

- It's comical when that happens, it's like having a little backpack clinging to you, even if you're not much taller than her, because Tara insists on trying – she never succeeds – to rest her chin on the top of your head in those days, so the difference is always stark. Girl is determined.

She's upset after a stupid party where a random guy hit on you, practically foaming at the mouth while mumbling about 'That fucking dumb bastard, how dare he?' on the way back.

Your girlfriend is still upset as you prepare for bed, even though your reassurances and soft kisses have calmed her earlier anger. Now she's just quiet, insecure.

You lie down among the sea of pillows and blankets spread out on the bed, opening your arms: “Come here, dear.”

Tara goes, but instead you feel her weight sink into the mattress behind you under the blankets, warm arms wrapping around you tightly.

She only truly relaxes when she buries her face in your hair and breathes in your scent. You feel her melt, like she can't get enough of your touch.

- Her favorite position, however, is when she is turned to you, her face buried in your neck and her body pressed against your chest, with your arms around her waist keeping her close.

- Likes to nap during the day and stay up late making movie marathons or finishing college work. Takes every chance she gets to simply rest with her head on your thighs for a few minutes.

- On those occasions when you are not with her and find her dozing on the couch, Tara will wake up for a moment, blink her eyes innocently and ask you to join her for just a few minutes. Her doe eyes can be very convincing, there's no way denying her that.

- You promise to yourself that you won't fall asleep, but you end up passing out less than 20 minutes later, with her warm body sprawled on top of you. It's like you can't help it, your girlfriend is basically a walking heater and she's so comfortable.

“Tara, I need to finish this book.”

“But baby,” she takes your hand in hers, rubbing circles into the wrist with her thumb, “Lay here with me just for five minutes. Please?”

You sigh, knowing you’ve lost immediately: “Fine. But just a little.”

- She’s not really afraid of the dark, but feels safer in a brighter place, sometimes leaving the door ajar to let a flight of the light from the hallway enter the room.

- You buy her a cute night light as a gift once and she gets angry at first, thinking you were mocking her, but over time she starts to shyly take the item out of the drawer to turn it on on days when nightmares haunt her. You keep a few extras at your dormitory too, just in case.

- She doesn't snore or breathe through her mouth – in fact Tara is very silent except for her occasional murmurs – but sometimes she breathes heavily in her chest due to her asthma. She loves it when you rub your hand up and down her back to calm her and follow her breathing, especially on days when she's feeling under the weather.

- She sleeps with as many blankets and pillows as she can fit on the bed and curls up in them like a ball – don't worry about feeling too hot, she almost always ends up monopolizing them all at some point during the night.

- Set several times to wake up in the morning, all with the same default sound because music annoys her.

- Always gets satisfied when she wakes up next to you, the sleepy smile marking the dimples in her cheeks while there is a good morning kiss waiting for you.

- In short, sleeping with Tara may have its... peculiarities, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Ever since you broke the ice with Bakugou, he's been finding more time to talk to you at work. You're less likely to call him by his hero name now out of habit.

You feel a little bad though for the co-workers he still yells at though, so you ask him if he could be just a "smidge" nicer to them.

His first instinct is probably to say "NO FREAKING WAY!" but he's been thinking about all the things you said to him before this point and he's at least considering your suggestion, albeit begrudgingly.

That's a victory of a sort.

You're learning a lot about the inner life of a Pro Hero, given how much time you spend working around the agency.

You joked to Bakugou before about surpassing him as a Pro Hero but really, if you put your mind to it, maybe you could do it. Your experience as a secretary could only help and not hurt you. It's a lot of work though.

The idea is still put on hold for now. Especially considering what happened recently. There was a new villain on the streets and they caused a ton of trouble for the Pro Heroes. Bakugou in particular was pretty banged up...

You were worried sick over him during and after the fight. You visited him in the hospital and although you heard he was in a bad mood, he seemed more alert when you entered the room.

He couldn't stand to see you cry. He told you it wasn't your problem and that you should only focus on your work. But you insisted that as a friend you should care.

He doesn't disagree with that, so he lets you stay. He says it'll be easier to keep watch on you this way and he needs to know how the agency's doing anyways.

The agency is not nearly as worried as you are, at least not on a personal level. They're not callous, but they're not close to the man. So you're the only one who visits.

Regardless of the good or bad news, Bakugou enjoys listening to you speak. It's better than being alone in the dull hospital room. You end up talking quite a while and time passes by before you know it. Bakugou's smiling more and more as time goes by.

When Bakugou eventually returns to work, you're talking to him in private about the status of his wounds. He lets you help him with first aid and also with moving around the place. You're literally a shoulder for him to lean on when his issues are at their worst.

Eventually he heals up and you don't have as much of an excuse to talk to him at work, so you go back to your usual amount of interactions. It still nice but never enough...

Bakugou ends up reaching out to you more as a result and this time around, Bakugou is the one to invite you out for dinner! But instead of the fancy restaurant you attended last time, you suggest a more low-key, humble cafe nearby.

He agrees, even though this means he's gotta disguise himself somewhat. There's some private tables in the cafe and it's not too busy with people, but the fancy restaurant was more guarded against the usual common fans and reporters than a simple cafe would ever be.

You poke fun at his disguise and find a good table for you both. As you're making your orders you notice him staring at you from your table and it's very clear he didn't think he was going to get caught looking. You stick your tongue out at him and that leaves him seething at your teasing.

You return with the food and you give it to Bakugou before he can complain about anything. Your careful recommendation on what he should order was right on the money. He likes the food and you can tell by his expression.

You say that to his face, and he screws up his expression so now you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. He looks deranged.

You want to take a picture to show all your co-workers, but he's got a hand on your phone before you can do anything. Damn him and his fast reflexes!

Since his face isn't screwed up anymore you still want to take a picture, but this time for yourself. You don't tell him that last part, you just ask if you can take a photo of him and his food, for posterity of course. He agrees and he initially keeps his typical grumpy face for the photo. But then a thought occurs to him and he gives you a small smile and you know you just HAVE to take the photo ASAP.

If you didn't have to go back to work, you would've forgotten that he was your boss. He's too close to you now, so many smiles and secrets you didn't think you'd get out of a man like this. But you need something more. You don't want things to stop progressing here, not when it's getting good. However, there's no good way to broach the subject.

Hours later after having a good time together at the cafe, Bakugou is walking you home, all the way to your doorstep.

When you finally reach the place, he tells you he has something to talk about.

He looks like he's a bundle of nerves. He ends up blurting what's on his mind just to get it off his damn chest, and it's just easy for him to talk to you about these kinds of things.

He admits that he doesn't always see you as his secretary, but as his close friend. He knew he had feelings for you at the start, but he thought he could manage that in private so as to not make you uncomfortable.

But he does love you, and he's thinking he's been reading the signs right and that you feel the same.

You just kiss him to confirm his thoughts and he kisses back even deeper than you ever could. He's inexperienced and rough, it's obvious to a T, but it's everything you would want. He's pulling you into his chest and making sure he's tasting every last bit!

Finally you break for air and his smirk is shaky, his body is shaky, and his voice is also shaky when he tells you "You're mine."

"No YOU'RE mine."

He quite likes that!

Though he admits he can't let you work for him anymore if you're together. He'd be letting you go as his secretary, because he would really rather have you as a girlfriend!

Sucks that you're out of a job though. But you heard that Deku is hiring...

[mercillery]

STRAWHATS AND WAXING…

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

SUMMARY: Just hcs on how some of the strawhats are like during the waxing experience. You’re the one waxing them btw.

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Zoro + Nami

NOTES: I made this random mess because I got my face waxed for the first time a few days ago and they peeled a small part of my skin off. I wish I was joking.

When Luffy first hears about waxing, his initial reaction is pure confusion. He tilts his head, eyes wide, as if you've just told him about a new, mysterious kind of devil fruit. "Waxing? What’s that?" he'd ask, genuinely clueless, probably thinking it's some sort of bizarre new adventure or maybe even a weird dessert. In Luffy's world, anything unknown is either something to eat or something fun to do, so naturally, he'd assume waxing falls into one of those categories.

You’d have to break it down for him in the simplest terms possible: "It's a way to remove hair. Like, pulling it out so it’s not there anymore." He blinks a few times, processing this new information. "Remove hair? But why would anyone want to do that?" he’d ask, clearly baffled by the concept. For him, the idea of going out of your way to get rid of something as trivial as hair is as foreign as trying to understand why Sanji doesn’t just eat the ingredients instead of cooking them.

Once he finally gets it—or at least he thinks he does—his curiosity piques. But not for the reasons you'd expect. He might think the wax is some sort of edible goo (which, let's be honest, he'd probably try to eat). Or he might be intrigued because it sounds like a new kind of challenge. "Does it hurt? Is it like a fight?" he'd ask with an eager grin, already ready to face this 'hair-removal' challenge head-on. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he imagines waxing to be some sort of mini-battle he has to win.

Now, Luffy isn’t exactly known for his patience or for thinking things through, so when you finally explain that it involves ripping hair out by the roots, he just shrugs it off. Pain? Discomfort? Those are small potatoes for the guy who’s taken down warlords and emperors. "Let’s do it!" he’d declare, without even a hint of hesitation. After all, in his mind, if it’s something new and weird, it’s got to be worth a shot.

Luffy, being the impulsive bundle of energy that he is, obviously doesn’t have a shred of patience—especially when it comes to something as boring as the prep work for waxing. The moment you start heating the wax, he’s already squirming in his seat, looking like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darting between the wax and your every movement. It feels like time has slowed down—that's how bored he is right now.

“Come on, just do it already!” he’ll exclaim, practically bouncing up and down with impatience. The waiting is torture for him, and you can tell he’s seconds away from grabbing the wax himself and slapping it on in whatever haphazard way he can manage.

It’s like trying to calm down a hyperactive kid who’s been told he has to wait five minutes before opening his birthday presents. Patience is not in his vocabulary, and the idea of sitting still while you carefully prepare everything is almost more than he can bear. And honestly, with Luffy, you know the clock’s ticking before he does something crazy, so you better hurry up.

 When the waxing process finally begins, Luffy is… well, to put it mildly, underwhelmed. He thought this whole thing was going to be a lot more exciting, maybe even a little dangerous—something worthy of a future Pirate King, you know? But instead, it's just you, applying warm wax and smoothing down strips with what seems like no end in sight. He starts fidgeting almost immediately, shifting around as if the chair is suddenly the most uncomfortable place in the world—it’s not, he’s just really bored. He might even start poking at the wax with a finger, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

“Can’t you go faster?” he’ll whine, looking at you with those big, expectant eyes that are practically begging for some kind of action. The boredom is killing him. Luffy’s the type who thrives on chaos and excitement, not sitting still while something as mundane as hair removal drags on. He’s clearly disappointed that this isn’t turning out to be the grand adventure he somehow imagined it might be.

However…

The moment that first strip is ripped off, everything changes. The look of boredom is instantly replaced by sheer shock as Luffy’s whole body jolts. His eyes go wide, and without missing a beat, he lets out a loud, explosive yell. “OW! WHAT WAS THAT?!” He practically leaps out of his seat, clutching the now-hairless spot as if he’s just been ambushed by an invisible enemy. It’s not that Luffy can’t handle pain—it’s the surprise of it all that really gets him.

Even though you carefully explained the whole process beforehand, he somehow managed to forget about that crucial detail. He was too focused on the idea of wax being some weird new eatable substance to pay attention to the part where you mentioned that it might, you know, hurt a bit. His reaction is pure Luffy: loud, dramatic, and completely honest. You can’t help but laugh a little as he rubs his arm, still looking at you like you’ve just pulled the ultimate prank of betrayal on him.

But if you think the pain is going to make Luffy tap out, you’ve got another thing coming. The shock may have caught him off guard, but backing down? That’s not in his nature. Instead, Luffy’s all in—gritting his teeth and getting ready for the next round, like he’s about to face down a sea king. The pain with each wax strip is real, but it’s also the one thing keeping him from reaching that extreme level of boredom that was starting to gnaw at him earlier.

Every time you rip off another strip, his eyes widen for a split second, and you can see him visibly brace himself, but then he’s right back to his usual self, shaking off the pain with a grin. “Hah! That one wasn’t so bad!” he’d boast, even though you can tell from the way he’s rubbing the spot that he definitely felt it.

And in true Luffy fashion, he starts to get into it, almost like he’s made a game out of enduring the waxing. He’ll throw out little challenges, like daring you to rip the next one off faster or harder, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to go all out. “Come on, hit me with your best shot!” he’d say, grinning even though you know he’s still feeling each pull.

 But as determined as Luffy is, eventually, the boredom creeps back in. He’s the type who needs constant action, and once the novelty of the pain wears off, there’s not much left to keep him entertained. After a few more strips, you notice he’s not reacting as much—his bravado is still there, but the excitement has clearly faded. He starts to tolerate the pain to the point where it’s just another thing happening to him, like getting rained on during a storm.

Before long, you hear the unmistakable sound of snoring. You glance over to see him slouched in the chair, completely conked out as if he’s taking a nap on the Sunny. His body is so used to pushing through discomfort that it just decided, “Why not catch some Z’s?”

You don’t even need to check if he’s okay—those snores are a clear enough sign. You work as quickly as you can, ripping off the strips one after another, half expecting him to wake up at any moment. But he just keeps snoring away, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s still in the middle of a waxing session.

When you finally finish and wake him up, Luffy blinks groggily, still half asleep as you tell him it’s all done. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it does, his eyes light up like you’ve just told him there’s a mountain of meat waiting for him. He immediately sits up and admires his newly smooth, hairless legs with the same enthusiasm he’d have for discovering a treasure chest.

“Whoa! My legs are so smooth!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands over his legs in amazement. He’s completely mesmerized by the feel of his skin, as if it’s the coolest thing in the world right now. You can already tell that any discomfort or redness is the last thing on his mind.

And before you can even suggest taking it easy, Luffy’s already up and bolting out of the room, eager to show off his fantastic new smooth legs to the rest of the crew. “Hey, guys! Check this out!” he shouts, practically bursting onto the deck with a wide grin plastered on his face. He’s flexing his legs, striking exaggerated poses like he’s just achieved something monumental.

“Look how smooth my legs are!” he brags, showing them off to anyone who will listen. He’s so caught up in his own excitement that he’s completely oblivious to the lingering redness or any stares of confusion from the crew. Even if they’re wondering why he’s so excited about hairless legs, Luffy doesn’t care—he’s just thrilled to have something new to show off.

 If someone asks him how it was, Luffy will flash that signature grin and say, “It was easy!”—completely forgetting that he’d screamed bloody murder when the first strip was ripped off. To him, the pain is already a distant memory, replaced by the thrill of showing off his new, smooth legs.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is left in a mix of surprise and confusion. They’re all quietly wondering how on earth you managed to get Luffy to sit still for so long without him bouncing around or possibly even eating the wax. The idea of Luffy sitting through the entire waxing process without causing total chaos is almost more shocking to them than the fact that he went through with it in the first place.

When the idea of waxing is first brought up, Zoro’s reaction is about as predictable as you’d expect. He barely gives it a second thought before letting out a low, uninterested grunt and going right back to whatever he was doing—probably napping or lifting absurdly heavy weights. Grooming beyond the basics just isn’t his thing. In Zoro’s mind, as long as he’s clean and his swords are sharp, there’s no need for anything extra, especially something as seemingly frivolous as waxing.

His first response would probably be a blunt, “No way,” with a look that says he’s already decided the conversation is over. You can tell that he’s genuinely baffled by the idea. Why on earth would he willingly let someone rip out his hair for no reason? The whole concept just doesn’t compute with him, especially when it’s not going to help him train or fight better.

If you push the idea a little further, maybe teasing him about how even the toughest swordsmen could benefit from smooth skin, he’d probably snap back with something like, “Why would I let someone rip my hair out for no reason?” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, as if the whole suggestion is almost offensive to his sensibilities. Zoro’s the type who lives by practicality—if it doesn’t make him stronger or help him achieve his goals, it’s not worth his time.

 The only way you’re getting Zoro to agree to waxing is if he’s somehow backed into a corner with no other way out. Maybe he lost a bet after one too many drinks, or someone bribed him with a stash of rare alcohol. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s doing it to shut someone up—most likely Sanji, who’s probably been teasing him nonstop about being too scared to go through with it. Even in that case, though, Zoro would make it crystal clear that this isn’t his idea of fun.

When he finally agrees, it’s with an irritated sigh and a muttered, “This better be quick,” as if he’s about to endure some grueling, unnecessary challenge. You can almost feel the weight of his reluctance hanging in the air, and he’s definitely giving you a look that says he’s only doing this because he has no other choice. It’s a rare moment, almost like spotting an endangered species in the wild—Zoro, the one who faces down powerful enemies without flinching, is now about to endure the ultimate test of patience.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you know it. Getting Zoro to sit still for something as non-essential as waxing is nothing short of a miracle, so you best not let it slip through your fingers. It’s clear that he’s mentally preparing himself, as if this is just another battle to get through—one that he’s determined to endure but not exactly thrilled about.

  Like Luffy, Zoro has zero patience when it comes to things that waste his time, and waxing is no exception. The moment the process begins, you can practically feel the impatience and irritation radiating off him. As soon as you start heating the wax or doing any kind of prep work, Zoro’s already showing signs of frustration. He’s tapping his foot, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and scowling as if the entire process is some sort of personal insult.

“Is this really necessary?” He’d grumble under his breath, casting a sharp glance your way as if daring you to say otherwise. Unlike Luffy, who would probably be whining and fidgeting, Zoro’s complaints are more subdued but no less pointed. He’s the type to internalize his frustration, letting it out in low, growly mutters and the occasional heavy sigh. The whole thing feels like an unnecessary distraction to him—one that’s taking way too long for his liking. Still, he’s not backing down.

Every minute that passes just adds to his annoyance. He’ll let out a groan every time you mention there’s another step or that the wax isn’t quite ready yet. The delay is clearly getting on his nerves, and you can tell that if it were up to him, he’d already be done and back to his training. But instead, he’s stuck here, enduring this tedious process with nothing but his grumbles and scowls to show for it.

 When the wax is finally applied, Zoro’s expression remains as stone-faced as ever. There’s no way he’d let anyone see that he’s uncomfortable, especially over something like this. He sits there with a cold, indifferent look, acting as if the warm wax is just another insignificant obstacle in his day.

He’s not scared—Zoro doesn’t do scared. He’s just getting himself ready for the moment you rip off that first strip. It’s like he’s preparing for a fight—not with an enemy, but with the sharp sting he knows is coming. His eyes narrow slightly as the wax hardens, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the best way to endure this new form of discomfort.

When you finally rip off that first strip, Zoro doesn’t scream, flinch, or give you the satisfaction of seeing him react. He’s been through far worse than this, and he’s not about to let something as small as waxing get the better of him. The sting is sharp and sudden, but Zoro just grits his teeth, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he breathes out in a slow, controlled manner. That’s the only sign you get that he even felt it.

As more strips are applied and ripped off, Zoro’s irritation steadily grows—not because of the pain but because of the sheer, mind-numbing repetition of it all. For someone who thrives on action and hates being idle, this process is torture in its own right. The longer he has to sit still, the more his patience wears thin. You can see it in the way his brow furrows and the slight twitch in his jaw as he tries to keep his frustration in check.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he finally asks, his tone laced with impatience. There’s no mistaking the edge in his voice; he’s clearly reaching the end of his rope. His gaze flickers down to his still very hairy legs, and you can practically feel the silent judgment radiating off of him. It’s as if he’s questioning every decision that led him to this moment, where he’s stuck sitting through what feels like an endless ordeal.

A long, loud silence hangs in the air as your eyes trace over the hair still covering his legs. This is obviously going to take a very long time. But as you glance back at Zoro, the last thing you want to do is push him over the edge. With a small, reassuring smile and eyes that do their best to hide the truth, you muster up your most convincing tone and say, “Not long.” You know you’re lying through your teeth, but hey, it’s for the sake of Zoro’s sanity.

 But despite the mounting irritation gnawing at him, Zoro wouldn’t back down or even think about asking to stop. Once he’s committed to something, no matter how trivial or annoying, he sees it through to the bitter end. His stubbornness is practically legendary, and there’s no way he’d let something as simple as waxing break his resolve. The idea of quitting? Not even on his radar. Zoro isn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking he can’t handle it.

Besides, he knows for a fact that if he even hinted at tapping out, Sanji would never let him live it down. The thought of that smug blonde cook mocking him is enough to keep Zoro going, his pride and stubbornness fueling him through every irritating strip. So he toughs it out with grit in his jaw and steel in his eyes.

 Once the waxing ordeal is finally over, Zoro will act as though it is no big deal. There wouldn’t be any complaints or mentions of pain—he’d simply brush it off with his usual nonchalance. “Done already?” he might say, as if the whole thing was just a minor inconvenience, nothing worth talking about.

Internally, though, Zoro would feel a wave of relief wash over him. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s glad it’s over. The thought of sitting through another round of that repetitive, irritating process? No, thank you. He’s more than ready to move on to something that actually matters—like getting in some serious training, polishing his swords, or finding the nearest sunny spot on the ship for a well-deserved nap.

 Even if his skin is red and irritated afterward, Zoro wouldn’t show the slightest sign of discomfort. He’d carry on with his day like nothing happened, even if the soreness lingers with every move he makes. To anyone who might notice the redness and dare to ask how he’s feeling, he’d give them a simple, “I’m fine,” in that gruff, no-nonsense tone that shuts down any further questioning.

Don’t even think about suggesting that he try it again. Zoro’s already made up his mind—this was a one-time thing, and there’s no chance he’s ever doing it again. Once was more than enough, and he doesn’t see any reason to put himself through that kind of hassle a second time. If you’re ever brave enough to suggest it in the future, you’ll be met with a hard glare and a flat, uncompromising “no.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.

From that moment on, Zoro will subtly avoid any situation where waxing could possibly come up again. If he hears the word “waxing” in passing conversation, he won’t even acknowledge it; he’ll just walk away without a word, his mind already moving on to more important matters. The crew might chuckle about it behind his back, but Zoro doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, this is one experience he’s leaving firmly in the past. He literally wants nothing to do with wax ever again.

My girl is a seasoned veteran when it comes to waxing. She’s practically a walking encyclopedia on the subject, knowing all the different types of waxes, which ones are best for specific skin types, and which methods give the smoothest results. She could probably run a beauty salon in her sleep if she wanted to, though she’d charge a hefty fee for it. With all that being said, when you bring up the idea of a waxing session, she’s more than ready to jump on board. She’s no stranger to grooming and self-care; in fact, it’s something she prioritizes.

When the waxing begins, Nami is completely relaxed. She’s no stranger to this, and her confidence shines through. She'll engage in casual conversation with you, keeping the atmosphere light and friendly. However, despite her composed demeanor, she can’t entirely shake the anticipation of the pain that’s about to come.

The thought of wax strips being ripped off makes her just a little bit edgy. To ease her nerves, she might ask, “You’ve done this before, right?” The question comes out half-joking, but there’s an underlying need for reassurance. Whether you decide to tease her or not is up to you, but be careful—you might end up on the receiving end of her temper for playing with her like that.

She knows waxing isn’t exactly a painless experience, so she prepares herself mentally. When the first strip is pulled off, she might exhale sharply, but she won’t scream or cause a scene. Instead, she’ll bite her lip and maybe squint her eyes briefly before quickly regaining her composure. “That was nothing,” she’ll mutter, partly to herself, determined to get through the session with as little fuss as possible.

Throughout the waxing process, Nami would keep the atmosphere light and breezy, effortlessly weaving a stream of witty commentary to distract herself from the sting and keep things fun. “You know, I’ve had marines chasing me who were less painful than this,” she might say with a smirk, her voice steady despite the sharp tugs on her skin.

If Luffy or another crewmate happened to wander by during the session, Nami wouldn’t miss the chance to throw a playful jab their way. “Hey Luffy, I bet you’d cry like a baby if you tried this,” she’d tease, knowing full well that Luffy’s curiosity (and his competitive nature) would probably lead him to try it just to prove her wrong. Honestly, that might be how you got him to sit down for waxing in the first place.

But despite the jokes and banter, Nami wouldn’t let the conversation stray too far from the task at hand. She’s someone who can multitask like a pro, keeping up a lively chat while making sure you’re following the process correctly. “So have you ever tried sugaring? It’s less harsh on the skin,” she might ask casually, as if you’re both just having a normal conversation over tea rather than ripping hair out by the roots.

For the most part, though, the two of you would be chatting away like it was just another day. Nami’s not the type to let a little pain faze her, and she’d take the opportunity to catch up, swap stories, or maybe even get the latest gossip from you.

Once the waxing is done, Nami will pause to admire the results, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she runs her fingers over her freshly smooth skin. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she’d say with a pleased smile, clearly impressed with how everything turned out. Any lingering redness or irritation wouldn’t phase her in the slightest; she’d already have some soothing lotion on hand, applying it with the practiced ease of someone who’s been through this routine many times before.

After making sure everything’s perfect, she’d flash you a grin. “You did a great job,” she’d say, a hint of genuine appreciation in her tone. And because she’s not one to keep something good to herself, she’d probably hold out her leg toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Go ahead, feel how smooth they are,” she’d encourage, clearly eager to show off just how soft her skin is now.

 But just when you thought you were in the clear, happily basking in the relief that Nami enjoyed the waxing session despite the occasional sting, Nami gives you a smile—one of those sweet, too-innocent ones that immediately puts you on edge. Before you can even process what’s happening, Nami turns to you with that sweet, knowing smile of hers, holding up the waxing materials like a challenge. “Your turn!” she announces cheerfully, and it dawns on you that things are far from over.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ BONUS ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

You blink, momentarily dumbfounded. “Wait, what? Nami, no, I’m good. Really. I’m totally fine.” But she’s not hearing any of it. “Come on, we’re going to have matching smooth legs! It’ll be fun!”

“Fun for who?” You protest, trying to back away as she advances with the wax strips. “Nami, seriously, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘keep my hair’ kind of person.”

“Oh, come on,” Nami insists, her smile widening as she edges closer. “It’s not that bad! We’re gonna match—smooth legs for everyone!”

You try to squirm out of it, but Nami’s determination is as solid as the Thousand Sunny itself. “Nami, please, we can talk about this! I’ll give you all my berries, or maybe I can wax someone else for you!”

“Not a chance,” she grins. “You’ve already committed. Now hold still!” Before you know it, she’s expertly applying the wax, and your protests turn into frantic pleas. “Nami, come on, let’s not do anything rash.”

“Too late!” she chirps as she preps the first strip. “You’re going to love this.”

“NAMI, WAIT—!”

With a swift motion, Nami rips off the first strip, and in that instant, you feel a jolt of fiery pain shoot through your leg. It’s like your soul has just been forcibly evicted from your body.

“AARRRRGHHHH!” The scream that escapes your lips is loud, raw, and absolutely blood-curdling. It echoes through the entire ship, startling birds from nearby trees and probably sending some poor marine scrambling for cover somewhere in the distance.

The rest of the crew pauses mid-task as they hear your shriek of horror.

“Sounds like someone’s having a rough time,” Zoro comments, raising an eyebrow but not moving from his spot.

“Are they… Are they torturing someone in there?” Usopp asks, wide-eyed.

But before anyone can even think of rushing to your aid, Nami’s calm, reassuring voice rings out, though it’s almost drowned out by your continued screams of agony. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Everything’s under control!” she calls, her tone as soothing as someone trying to calm a wild animal. “Just a little waxing!”

Inside the room, you’re practically convulsing, clutching your leg with a mix of horror and disbelief. “Nami…that was—ow—absolutely brutal! I think I’m dying!” Nami’s smile is as bright as ever as she pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It isn’t that bad, just a little sting!”

The second strip is suddenly torn off, and you let out another soul-piercing scream that echoes throughout the entire ship. The sound is so loud and terrifying that even the fish swimming under the Thousand Sunny probably stop dead in their tracks.

Meanwhile, outside, the crew is collectively wincing with every scream you let out. “Maybe we should just let them handle it,” Robin suggests with a small smile, knowing better than to get in Nami’s way.

“Yeah, good luck to them,” Franky adds, cringing as another scream reverberates through the air.

Luffy, who’s lounging nearby, tilts his head and grins. “Hey, maybe they’ll have smooth legs like me!”

Back in the room, you’re gripping the sides of your seat, your knuckles white as you endure yet another strip being pulled off. “Nami, this has to be illegal in at least ten countries!”

“Relax, you’re doing great!” Nami reassures you, her voice as chipper as ever, even as you let out another ear-splitting shriek. “Just a few more and we’ll be done!”

“Just a few more?!” you practically wail, but it’s no use.

The crew collectively decides that maybe it’s best not to check in on you just yet. After all, they know better than to interfere when Nami’s on a mission.

[inkspiredwriting]

Playground Pandemonium

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I imagine that five would be a great dad. But I also think that he is insecure and is sometimes afraid of becoming just like Reginald. What do you think?

Warnings: None

It was a rare sunny Saturday afternoon, and Five Hargreeves had finally found a day to spend entirely with his wife Y/n and their four-year-old daughter Maddie. They decided to make the most of it by visiting the local playground. Y/n, ever the planner, packed a picnic basket full of Maddie’s favorite snacks, while Five’s contribution was ensuring they arrived early enough to grab the best spot.

As they walked hand in hand through the park, Five scanned the area. “I haven’t been to a playground since, well, ever,” he admitted.

Y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “You missed out on a quintessential part of childhood, Five. But don’t worry, Maddie will show you the ropes.”

Maddie, bouncing ahead of them with an infectious energy, turned around and called, “Come on, Daddy! You’re gonna love the swings!”

Maddie made a beeline for the swings, and Five found himself being roped into pushing her. “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she shrieked with delight.

Five, slightly uncertain but determined not to disappoint, gave her a solid push. Maddie soared into the air, laughing gleefully.

“Careful, Five,” Y/n warned, settling on a nearby bench with a watchful eye. “We don’t want her launching into space.”

Five smirked, “I’ve seen worse launches.” He gave Maddie another push, but this time, his mind wandered to a particularly explosive time-travel incident.

Distracted, he pushed a bit too hard. Maddie shrieked—not in delight, but in mild terror—as she swung higher than intended. “Whoa! Okay, not that high!”

Y/n stifled a laugh as Five, looking mortified, rushed to catch the swing on its way back. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, steadying her. “Daddy’s still learning the basics.”

Maddie giggled, her fear quickly forgotten. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just don’t push me into the future!”

After the swing incident, Maddie led them to the sandbox, where she promptly began constructing an elaborate sandcastle. Five and Y/n joined in, Five more reluctantly.

“Why does this remind me of building fortifications during the apocalypse?” Five muttered as he helped shape a sand wall.

Y/n chuckled. “Probably because you’re overthinking it. Just have fun!”

Maddie, her tongue poking out in concentration, sculpted a turret. “Look, Daddy! A tower!”

Five nodded, actually impressed. “Nice work, Maddie. It’s almost as secure as some of the bunkers I’ve seen.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe we can skip the part where it gets blown up by time-traveling assassins.”

As they worked, a group of kids approached, drawn by the impressive sandcastle. One boy, clearly the sandbox bully, sneered at their work. “That’s a silly castle,” he said, kicking sand at the base.

Five bristled, ready to give the kid a stern talking-to, but Y/n put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Five. Let Maddie handle it.”

Maddie stood up, glaring at the boy. “My Daddy can travel through time and fight bad guys. What can your daddy do?”

The boy, taken aback, mumbled something about his dad being a lawyer and scampered off. Five chuckled, giving Maddie a high five. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n called them over to the picnic blanket for snacks. As they sat down, Maddie’s excitement was palpable. “Can I have a juice box, Mommy?”

Y/n handed Maddie a juice box and gave Five a sandwich. “Try not to eat it too quickly,” she teased. “We don’t have a lot of supplies here.”

Five took a bite, nodding appreciatively. “Better than cockroaches.”

Just as they were settling in, a squirrel darted towards the picnic blanket, clearly eyeing their food. Maddie squealed, and Five immediately went into protective mode.

“Back off, rodent!” Five growled, standing up to chase the squirrel away.

The squirrel, unperturbed, grabbed a stray cookie and scampered up a tree. Five glared after it, shaking his fist. “This isn’t over!”

Y/n laughed, pulling him back down to the blanket. “I think we’ll survive without one cookie.”

Maddie, giggling, took a sip of her juice box. “Daddy, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

Five sat down with a huff, brushing off the dirt. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

The playground centerpiece was a tall slide, and Maddie insisted that her parents try it with her. Five eyed the slide warily. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Five,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be fun!”

They climbed the ladder, Maddie leading the way. At the top, Five hesitated. “This is higher than it looks.”

Y/n, already halfway down the slide with Maddie, called back, “Don’t chicken out now!”

With a resigned sigh, Five sat at the top of the slide. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed off, the slide’s angle steeper than expected. As he hurtled down, his typically composed expression twisted into one of surprise.

He shot off the end of the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Maddie burst into laughter, running over to help him up. “That was awesome, Daddy!”

Y/n, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, helped him stand. “See? Fun!”

Five dusted himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. “Maybe for you.”

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves family packed up their picnic and headed home. Maddie, tired from her day of adventure, held each of her parents’ hands, swinging between them.

“That was the best day ever!” she declared, beaming up at them.

Five, despite his usual stoicism, smiled down at her. “I’m glad you had fun, Maddie.”

Y/n leaned her head on Five’s shoulder as they walked. “You know, for someone who’s never been to a playground, you did pretty well.”

Five chuckled. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

As they reached their car, Maddie climbed into her seat, already half-asleep. Five and Y/n shared a look, both of them tired but happy.

“Same time next week?” Five asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “Absolutely. As long as you promise not to get into a fight with any more squirrels.”

Five grinned. “No promises.”

As the Hargreeves family drove home, the playground behind them, they couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect blend of laughter, love, and just a bit of Hargreeves-style mayhem.

[stars-tonight]

Hiii, i am the 🍓 anon, and I loved the fic headcanon thing 🫶. Can I request another one pleek

Characters: Atsumu, Suna and Akaashi

Can it be of what it would be like to date them while being the volleyball manager of their teams. Like the type of interactions they would have with each other and like the team or idk😭. Thank you, much love

~🍓

DATING THEIR TEAM'S MANAGER (FT. MIYA ATSUMU, SUNA RINTARŌ, AKAASHI KEIJI)

all pre-timeskip!

miya atsumu

🕊️ proudly shows you off every chance he gets

🕊️ gets teased about it a lot but he's proud of you so he doesn't get flustered

🕊️ doesn't let anyone give you a hard time

🕊️ (this includes opponents)

🕊️ if anyone even looks at you wrong, you can bet he'll be popping up behind you with a scary glare on his face like "oh, what business does _____-kun have with my partner?"

🕊️ makes you settle arguments between him and osamu

🕊️ if you rule in his favor, he'll rub it in osamu's face

🕊️ if you rule in osamu's favor, he'll whine and pout about it all day

🕊️ always asks you for any statistics you take of his team and of other teams

🕊️ will make you stay back with him and osamu after practice ends to do some extra reps

🕊️ timeline issues: depending on whether you're his partner before becoming the manager or you're the manager before becoming his partner, the rest of the team will treat you differently

🕊️ if it's the first case, they'll be sure to be very respectful

🕊️ you'll probably end up helping kita keep atsumu in line

🕊️ if it's the second case, they'll be a lot more comfortable around you and will probably poke fun at your relationship

🕊️ atsumu seems like a rather possessive guy, so he'd be a big fan of pda

🕊️ demands good luck kisses before every game and congratulatory / comfort kisses after

🕊️ WILL kiss you in front of everyone and not be shy about it

🕊️ calls you the team's good luck charm

🕊️ if you don't praise him he'll be really sad lol

🕊️ i give you miya atsumu, the man with an intimidating presence on the court but who, in front you, turns into a huge whiny child just needing to be taken care of

suna rintarō

🕊️ gets teased about it 24/7

🕊️ atsumu flirts with you just to make him annoyed

🕊️ complains to you all the time about the twin's antics

🕊️ if they're fighting, he'll look over at you with a "please save me" look and an eye roll if he's feeling extra sassy

🕊️ after practice or a game, he looks for you first for a high five and a hug

🕊️ will complain if you don't give him either

🕊️ on bus rides to games, you'll automatically be each other's bus buddy

🕊️ he likes to nap so he'll lean his head on your shoulder, sling an arm around your waist, and just drift off while clinging onto you like a koala bear

🕊️ he doesn't really care which seat he gets (window or aisle) because his head is going on your shoulder either way

🕊️ during one of these bus rides, someone somehow took a picture of the two of you sleeping

🕊️ this picture somehow ended up in the team's group chat

🕊️ suna isn't a big pda fan but he's very clingy if that makes sense

🕊️ so he won't be covering you in kisses like atsumu would but he'd always be holding onto you somehow

🕊️ he usually takes it easy during games but if you're the manager he'll try just a little bit harder

🕊️ enough for someone like kita or a coach to notice though

🕊️ the timeline thing from atsumu's section stands

🕊️ if you were suna's partner before becoming the manager, some of the team members (mainly atsumu, who's the most serious about the sport and the team) would probably doubt you at first, especially if you didn't have prior experience with volleyball

🕊️ but suna would warn him (in a lowkey threatening way) to not give you a hard time and then he'd back off

🕊️ if you were the manager before becoming suna's partner, holy crap would atsumu tease the hell out of your relationship

🕊️ but you know the whole team loves you and wouldn't hesitate to help or protect you

🕊️ as a partner in general suna is not unlike atsumu, but he's more clingy while atsumu is just plain whiny

🕊️ introducing suna rintarō, the man who's just a little lazy and snarky with his teammates but is actually the clingiest baby ever

akaashi keiji

🕊️ super caring and attentive

🕊️ especially since the fukurōdani guys can get kind of rowdy (*cough cough bokuto*)

🕊️ he makes sure you're never overwhelmed when you're at practice or on the bus with them

🕊️ if you ever stay back for extra practice, he'll make sure it's of your own free will and that you actually want to be there

🕊️ on the bus rides to games, fukurōdani probably hosts a whole freaking karaoke party

🕊️ bokuto is the main vocalist, washio is forced to bust out some dance moves, and konoha and sarukui do the adlibs while akaashi tunes them out to read a book and the coaches are contemplating their life choices

🕊️ so before your first bus ride with the team akaashi reminds you to bring headphones, and preferably noise cancelling ones

🕊️ when he's thinking of new plays to run he'll ask you for your thoughts

🕊️ the point i made about the timeline in atsumu's section still stands

🕊️ if you were akaashi's partner before becoming the manager, bokuto would happily welcome you (you definitely know bokuto if you're dating akaashi)

🕊️ and the rest of the team would be nice to you too, kind of how they are with fukurōdani's managers in the actual manga

🕊️ if you were the manager before becoming akaashi's partner, they'd also just joke around with you a lot more

🕊️ akaashi will tolerate jokes and teasing but if anyone makes you upset, holy crap his face will get really scary

🕊️ he's usually not an intimidating dude but his seriousness can be scary sometimes

🕊️ kind of like in the series when he was like "good passes pls" and his teammates were all like "oh shit yes captain" (even though he’s not captain lol)

🕊️ if anyone has any problems about your relationship they can take it up with akaashi

🕊️ not saying he'd go duke it out (that'd be something more up atsumu's alley) but he'd just calmly explain that you're very happy together and he'd appreciate it if they didn't make rude remarks

🕊️ is probably cursing them out in his head though

🕊️ bokuto would also be a big defender of you guys

🕊️ akaashi keiji everyone, the man who doesn't give any flying f--s about what others think about you because in his life, you are the one thing he is sure of

A/N: there you go 🍓anon, i hope you liked it! it's always a pleasure to write for you, please feel free to request more in the future! also this shouldn't surprise anyone by now but it was indeed unedited

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 15.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. plot, atsumu's shenanigans, fluff, some hurt

A/N. wah

-> MASTERLIST.

“If we win, you have to go on a date with me,”

Everything goes silent for you while Atsumu’s voice rings through your head. A date?

Before you even get to respond, he gives you a slick smile before running towards the court to catch up with the rest of them, joining them in their bow towards the other team.

You almost collapse in your seat as his words ring in your head. 

You’re not really able to pay attention to the first couple of points. Not until Foster calls for your attention, leading you to take your notebook out. Your eyes manically follow the ball, observing each play intently.

The boys are putting up a good fight. It’s fun to see the banter between the two teams, especially since Kiyoomi’s cousin and your old classmate were on the Raijins. 

They easily take the first set. A somewhat steep lead, 26-19. But the Raijins bite back on the 2nd, a narrow gap but nonetheless taking the set. The Jackals call for a timeout during the 3rd after the Raijins create a huge lead for themselves.

“Don’t let yourselves get shaken up. Close the gap,” Coach Foster takes your clipboard from your hands, talking to them about your notes.

You see Atsumu look at the notes then smile at you, which only caused you to look away due to the awkwardness.

“Alright, get back out there and steal this set!” Foster cheers, causing the boys to get riled up.

“You guys got this!” you add.

As much as you wanted the boys to win, there’s a teeny tiny part of you that didn’t in the fear that Atsumu was going to hold his word against you.

You’re scribbling down bullet point after bullet point as each point goes by. And before you know it, they take set point, and are in the lead, 2-1.

By the final set, the boys have found their flow. The sets are going up smoothly and getting hit down with immense power. 

Except this time, the Raijins are right behind them, not allowing them to reach match point. They’re at 18-17, and everyone is exhausted. 

The crowd is on their toes, the announcers are trying to keep up with the ball and where it’s going.  

Atsumu sets the ball to Hinata who finishes off the game with a crazy line shot, causing all the members to cheer along with the rest of the stadium. You feel yourself jump to your feet as you cheer.

Your eyes are on all of the men before it catches on the blonde. The two of your eyes lock before he winks in your direction. 

You weren’t sure you’d like where this is going.

———

Everyone’s chattering about the game. Meian’s finishing up his post-game interview along with Coach Foster as the rest of you make your way back to the area you set your stuff at.

“So?” Atsumu startles you.

Part of you was trying to avoid him in hopes he’d let it go.

“I never said yes!”

“You never said no,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Absolutely not,”

“C’mon, just this once,”

“Hell no, Atsumu,” you stop, letting all the other men get out of earshot before continuing, “For one, I’m not interested in you. And two, that’s unprofessional and I can lose my job,”

“No ya can’t, some of the guys hook up with fangirls and other volleyball staff all the time,”

You raise your eyebrow at that.

“Not me!” his face contorts with disgust.

“Sure, sure,” you start, beginning to walk again.

“We could just order food and watch a movie, it doesn’t have to be romantic,” 

You roll your eyes at that, “Whatever, Atsumu,” you say before walking away.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” he smirks, before watching you flip him off and continue towards the other men.

———

“Not drinking tonight, Y/N?” Meian pokes.

You respond, “No, I’ve been drinking too much lately, not good for the liver,”

He laughs at that, raising his glass towards you before taking a big swig in your stead.

Messing with the straw in your drink, you peer around everyone at the table. They’re all goofing off or just chitchatting. 

“One drink wouldn’t hurt, right Omi?” you question the man beside you.

“You said you wouldn’t though,” he replies, eyebrow raised in concern.

“Ugh, no fun,” you roll your eyes.

“Y/N~” 

“Oh no,”

“Miya, you reek of alcohol,” Kiyoomi starts.

“Duh, I’ve been drinking,” the blonde retorts, an offended expression on his face. “Omi-Omi, can you take me home?” 

“Fuck no,” you laugh at Sakusa's reply. “Call a cab for yourself,”

“No one else wants to take mee,” Atsumu whines, “Y/N?”

“Nope,” you push your chair out. “It’s getting late anyways, I need to go home,”

“Pleasee,” he begs, “I won’t bother you again,”

“I’m sure you won’t,” you give a dejected look towards Sakusa who sighs, “can you help me?”

Kiyoomi nods before hooking an arm around Atsumu to hoist him up. He follows behind you as the three of you make your way to your car.

“Just throw him in the back,” you say, starting your car.

You listen as the blonde heaves as his body meets the cushion of your backseat. “Thanks, Kiyoomi,” 

“No problem, let me know if he causes too much trouble,” he pulls out his phone, “I’ll send his address to you,” 

“Will do,”

———

“Y/NNN, my head hurts,” Atsumu whines as he twists and turns. 

“Stop moving, let me help you get out,” your head hurts from how impossibly annoying he is. 

You forcefully take one his hands and use all of your strength to try and get him to sit up, “fuck, you’re huge,”

Atsumu laughs before attempting to make a joke, “Shut it,” you interrupt.

You’re finally able to get him to his two feet, using your leg to slam your car door behind you. 

“Atsumu, you’re going to need to at least try to walk, I can’t carry all your body weight,”

At your words, he straightens up.

“Do you have keys?” he uses his head to gesture to his back pocket.

Slipping your hand in the pocket, the keychain jingles as  you try to find the right key, sliding each key into the hole until it finally clicks open.

“Alright, let’s go,”

You tug the man through his living room, then his hallways until you finally make it to a room that you assume is his. You drop him on the bed, listening to him as he groans in pain. 

Pitying him, you decide to at least help him work his shoes off. Finding the switch, you turn his fan on and work his jacket off. You grab his trash can and place it beside his bedside table.

“Throw up in here,” you utter. “I’m gonna head out,”

“Wait,” 

The whole scene is giving you Deja Vu. 

“Stay,”

“Atsumu, I’m not gonna-”

“Please, Y/N,”

“You’re drunk, and I don’t even think I should be here,”

He groans, “I like you, though, so stay,” Atsumu slurs.

Your head snaps towards him, “Wha-”

“I’m sorry for everything,” he slurs, “But I like you so much I hate it,”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” 

“But I do,” his sudden change of tone scares you, “I’m sorry, Y/N,”

He sounds like a broken record as he keeps mumbling apology after apology. About how he was a dick and he didn’t know better. 

“I should’ve just treated you good from the start if I knew I’d like you so much,”

You’re so confused as to what to do, how to respond. He’s drunk, so should you even believe any words coming out of his mouth? 

“I-I’ll stay, just go to sleep,” you stutter, you find a pillow and place it on the carpeted ground next to the bed. 

“Please, just forgive me,” it almost sounds like a sob, but you doubt it, “I’m sorry,”

“Eventually, Atsumu, eventually,” 

It’s silent before the sounds of the night take over his home. You pick at the loose strands of thread on the pillow as you mull over his words.

Atsumu Miya likes you? The one who bullied you and made your life a living hell? 

You’d be stupid to say you couldn’t tell the way he treated you was changing, but you assumed it was because of what happened in the hotel. You didn’t know there were actual feelings involved. 

Part of you would also be lying if you said the way you thought about him hasn’t changed either. 

While you don’t forgive him for the shit he’s put you through in the past, he was there for you when you were at your lowest. 

The Gora incident dragged you down mentally, and while you had no choice in choosing who had known about it, he was there, and he was angry for you.

There were so many things for you to consider, but where you were, there was nothing you could do about them. At least, yet. 

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[shadesoflsk]

EVERY STEP YOU TAKE !

ft. Leon Kennedy.

summary: just some headcanons about watching Leon age!

a/n: This came to me in a revelation. i just noticed that in some scenes, Leon's wrinkles would be even more noticeable. let it be his tough job or the fact that he's indeed "growing old", i wanted to write about Leon realizing the fact that time spares no one. Also, i had in mind re4 Leon turning into id leon ?? I know neither of them are really old, but yeah...

Can you actually read what's written in there? It all started as simple jokes and innocent teasing. You would often poke fun at your boyfriend for the way he's squinting his eyes while reading. He's still very young – 27 years got nothing on him – yet you found it so endearing to observe him while he pouted. Getting mad as your teasing words started.

He can't, thank you very much. He needs glasses, even though he keeps on denying it. He first noticed his little problem when he was reading a document, too focused on the tiny letters to even acknowledge the real meaning behind those words. Is that an a or an e? Dear God, this can't be happening, he thought. The world wasn't prepared to see him wearing glasses. Nor was he prepared for your endless teasing if he admitted it.

Baby blue eyes, Leon S. Kennedy! Or at least that's what you used to call him in the past. As years went on, some pet names were long forgotten. He has grown more serious and more cold but not less romantic. Yet he wasn't his past self who would blush if you called him baby. He likes reminiscing about the past – how he had a bright future. He still has, right? It is not like life is over.

However, life seemed so ridiculous as you stated that there were some faint wrinkles on his forehead. His hand unconsciously reaching for the skin there, feeling some lines. He just needs to moisturize or buy some serum for his skin. Life as an agent was tough – this was just dry skin you don't understand. Too many excuses for a man who is so sure that those lines are just a product of his exhausting job.

Don't look so mad! you often told him when you found his eyebrows doing the exact same thing during and after a gruesome mission. Being lowered and pulled together. He always had a resting bitch face that didn't match his own personality. He would try and not furrow his eyebrows as soon as you told him that expression would cause even more wrinkles to form.

After a year or so, he reluctantly admitted that yes, those were wrinkles. But that's not something bad. In fact, it was more than okay to age. He once read in a magazine that wrinkles served as a map of every journey and challenge he had faced. No, it isn't sappy. You're just jealous that his faint wrinkles look better on him than you.

But even though you kept on joking, he was grateful for growing old with you. You met him when he was a bright and young cop. Full of life and love to give. Now, you were standing next to him. Kissing his forehead and whispering sweet nothings, you promised him that you would always love him, even though he could barely walk in the future and even though their romantic dates would consist of feeding some pigeons and fighting nurses because you guys don't want to take your meds.