#and the fact that Chuck hit him with the ‘you know you don’t have to be a lawyer’ THAT early on in their relationship. most unsubtle man

[simpforrooster]

do you want me to lie, sir?

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!mitchell reader

Summary: hangman is the only guy your father would loathe to see you with. you successfully hide your relationship with him. until you don’t.

t/w: some light smut ahead. nothing graphic. 18+only plz.

a/n: this is from an anon request from *too* long ago. I’m sorry!!! took an unplanned month off, but felt inspired tonight. hope you enjoy!

No one knows you and Jake are dating.

Especially not your father, who was Jake’s captain.

God, Maverick would lose his shit if he knew Hangman finally wore you down.

If your dad didn’t see a lot of his younger self in the blonde aviator, you’re not sure he’d even care who you dated. Mav would go to the ends of the Earth to protect you, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten how he was at Hangman’s age.

Your phone vibrates on Jake’s nightstand pulling you away from his intoxicating kissing.

“Snooze it,” he murmurs, placing slow, agonizing kisses along your neck. This elicits a soft moan from you, and his mouth flicks up in the corner.

The alarm is set to ensure you slip out of Jake’s room undetected before anyone starts patrolling the halls.

Jake reaches over to the wooden table and grabs your phone. Hitting the snooze button, he practically chucks it across the room.

“Jake!” you scold, your voice a little above a whisper.

He’s nuzzling your neck again. “I’ll buy you another one if it’s cracked. I just want your undivided attention.” His hands reach low on your hips, pulling you onto his lap. The way he’s practically begging for you, your phone is immediately forgotten.

He rests against the headboard, lazily rubbing his thumbs on your thighs. Taking you in, sitting on top of him like this, he literally has hearts in his eyes.

You bring your forehead against his and breathe him in. It took a loooooong time to finally give into him, and now that you have, he’s like an addiction.

Your eyes fall closed, just soaking in the fact that this man is yours. This man who always has girls stop and gawk at him. This man who never notices those gawking girls. This man who only ever has eyes for you.

“Hey,” he says, pulling you from the inside of your mind.

“Yeah?” you breathe, letting your eyes open to meet his.

“I love you.”

Your mind falls blank, rebooting after hearing these words come from the mouth of the dagger squad’s playboy.

You answer him by knotting your fingers in that blonde hair and pulling him to you. He immediately takes control of the kiss, turning his head to deepen the kiss. When his tongue runs along your bottom lip, you waste no time granting him access.

“Baby,” he whispers against kisses, the term of endearment heating you up just as much as his kissing. Your hands find the bottom of his white shirt, and life up. Jake pulls away just long enough to get the shirt over his head. He uses this to move his kisses along your jaw, and down your neck. Your head falls back, granting him more access to plant those kisses where he knows you love most. His hand slips under your top. He doesn’t go higher than your naval, deciding to slide that hand along your waist to pull you flush against his body.

He’s making you feel so good, and you never want this feeling to stop. You haven’t given into him totally yet, at the confusion of Phoenix, who figured Jake would have charmed you into sleeping with him before now.

And it wasn’t that you haven’t wanted to. The part of you that loves fairy tales and romances has been waiting for the perfect time. A drunken romp in the sack coming in from the Hard Deck wasn’t how you wanted your first time with Jake to go.

“I want you, y/n,” Jake says into your ear. The sentence is laced with desperation. You met his smoldering blue eyes and you know, this is it. Your fairy tale moment.

“I’m yours, Jake.”

Jake lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and crashes his lips against yours. His kisses are a sweet mix of urgent and loving. His hands are back underneath your top, but this time, he keeps going until the shirt is on the floor next to his.

He breaks the kiss to sit back and look at you. As his eyes drink you in, you can’t help but feel a little self conscious. Jake immediately picks up on your body language and grabs your chin, lightly forcing you to look at him.

“Stop,” he breathes, “you’re beautiful.”

Leaning down to kiss him, a knock on his door causes the two of you to shoot apart.

“Lieutenant! Have you seen y/n around? Her car is still here, but I can’t find her.”

The two of you share a look of horror. Pete Mitchell is on the other side of that door. Looking for you. His perfect daughter whom he definitely doesn’t want with Hangman.

“One second, sir!” He calls, untangling his legs from yours and falling chest first onto the ground trying to put his shirt back on. His erection is prominent through the sweatpants he threw on after you snuck in earlier in the night.

“Are you okay in there?” Mav asks through the door, obviously concerned about all the mayhem happening as you struggle to calm yourself down and get dressed.

“Yes, sir!” He calls. “It’s all good.”

Jake opens the door, taking up the entire threshold so Mav can’t see into the room. You can’t see your dad, but you know that he knows he interrupted something. You can practically picture the looks he’s giving Jake. Something in between approval and disapproval at the fact that Jake has successfully snuck a girl in and was about to get lucky.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Coyote said he saw you and Y/n talking earlier. Thought you may know where she’s gone off to.”

“Hmm. No sir. I haven’t seen her since turning in for the evening,” Jake lies effortlessly.

“Okay, well thanks anyway. I’ve been trying to call her, but she won’t pick up.” The glow of his phone might as well be the Hollywood sign as he looks for your contact.

You spot your phone. Right on the ground to Jake’s left. Jake is still blocking the threshold, holding his breath. His body is rigid, his grip on the doorframe enough to pull it clean off the wall. He’s spotted your phone too.

As it buzzes on the ground, you watch your dad end the call and pocket the phone. Your phone stops creating an earthquake almost immediately.

“Lieutenant,” he says, scary enough to scare the hair off a bear. “Please tell me my little girl isn't here.”

“Would you like me to lie, sir?” He asks, a little bit of his arrogance coming through his words.

“I think that would be best.” His tone matches Jake’s.

“Y/N isn’t here.”

“That isn’t her phone?”

“No, sir.”

Your two favorite men stare each other down, waiting for the other to make a move.

“Oh, there’s my phone!” You say, making your presence known. Scooping up your phone, which thankfully was in one piece, you face your father. His jaw works back and forth, his eyes silently pleading with you to confirm this wasn’t real.

“Are you here to walk me to my car? I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten,” you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. Ducking under Jake’s arm, you reach for your Mav’s arm, looping yours with it. You not-so-stealthily tug on it, getting him further away from Jake before he can decide to hit him or something crazy.

He walks with you down the hall. Turning over your shoulder, you send Jake a wink that says you’ll call him.

“Hangman?” Your dad croaks out.

You pat his arm. “We can talk about it tomorrow, Pops."

masterlist

[weskie]

O Captain, My Captain! (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | 2100 words, dubcon, gunpoint blow job, sex fantasies, gender neutral reader, wesker being a little shit but somehow still a lil soft | Fic Directory

original request

You always were his favorite.  So smart and perceptive, sharp and witty.  Of course you would be the one to find him first.  It almost pained him to devastate you in such a way.  To see the way your face fell when those words left his mouth.

“I’ve always been with Umbrella.”

The way you whispered his title in disbelief when he pointed his gun at you was… perplexing.  He figured you’d have one of your usual wise-cracks to chuck at him.  Instead you–

“I trusted you, I–” You quiver, staring down the barrel that could spell your undoing in a mere flash. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the tank containing the Tyrant.  “Please don’t kill me…” 

Beautiful, isn’t it?  Wesker thinks to himself.  He wonders what you must think of his good work.  What you must think of everything.  

Deep down, he doesn’t want to do this. In fact, it had been his plan to grab you before death could take you in some twisted form or another.  You were the only one he wasn’t keen to place in this experiment.  He fully intended to run off with you in his arms, play the hero, whisk you away to safety and maybe finally allow some of his affections free to make an attempt at something more.  You weren’t supposed to find him.

You’ve certainly dashed his plans.  So what now?  

“I’ll do anything!”

Of that, he’s certain.  Most people staring down the barrel of a gun would say the same.  Perhaps…

Now that’s a thought.

“Anything?”  He asks with a cock of his head.  “And just what could you do for me, my dear?”  The corner of his mouth twitches in a small smirk as the term of endearment hits you.  He saunters forward, handgun still trained on you.  Little do you know he’d clicked the safety on before raising it toward you to begin with.

It’s precious how you shiver under his gaze.  Like you know exactly what he’s thinking, or you’re at least partly aware of it.  

This situation has obviously ruined his plans to pursue you once the dust had settled.  Perhaps he should take what he can get now while he’s got the opportunity.  Sure there’s terror in your eyes, but he’s seen the way you looked at him before.  The glint in your gaze, the pining glances and shy smiles.  Wesker was no fool.

But he is an opportunist.

“I don’t kno–”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He purrs, pressing the muzzle under your chin to force you to look right into his eyes.  He glides his thumb across your lower lip, tongue peaking out to wet his own.  “Ah, ah… Don’t squirm.  You wouldn’t want my finger to slip, would you?”  It isn’t even on the trigger.  He smiles sweetly as you take a breath to still yourself.  “That’s it, sweetheart.  Very good.”

You’re adorable like this.  Eyes wide, lower lip quivering beneath the pad of his thumb.  Wesker leans forward until his lips are next to your ear.

“I want you on your knees, my dear.  Think of it like a new training exercise– just you and me.”  His breaths fan against the shell of your ear, words shocking your eyes even wider.  He can hear you gulp in anticipation before you start to descend.  “Show your Captain what you can do, hm?” The sight alone has him twitching in his pants.  He’d never admit to the overflowing excitement in watching you kneel before him, knowing full well he was about to have you in a way he’s only dreamt of.  God, the thoughts he’s had of you– the way he’s come apart at mere fantasies all because of you…

His breath stutters as you work him free from his pants, halting entirely when you grasp his cock and stroke.  He can feel the tremble in your grip, so he smooths his free hand through your hair to coax you to relax.  He nudges you forward gently. 

He knows you can’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, but he almost wishes you could.  If you could only see the exhilaration in his eyes coupled with the lack of genuine hostility, maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of the gun in his right hand.  Maybe you’d know it was all for show to keep you from getting any bright ideas.  And fuck, he could’ve dropped the damned thing the second your tongue grazed the underside of his tip.  It’s been so long since he’s been touched by another; he never has the time to even consider it with his double-triple-agent life. It’s almost embarrassing how sensitive he is to the warm wetness of your tongue.

But he needs more.

His fingers curl in your hair to pull you nearer– his signal for you to open wide and take him. He releases a shuddering breath when your lips wrap around him, descending nice and slow.  The sensation of you sucking him is simply beyond words, completely and utterly tantalizing in the way it combines with the hot drag of your tongue.

A soft moan works past his lips when that pesky gag reflex of yours makes your throat clamp deliciously around him.  He doesn’t let you pull off.  He can’t drop the facade quite yet– can’t be too gentle lest you get any stupid ideas.

“Ah, ah… Hold it.”  He breathes, fingers gripping tighter in your hair, pushing your head down.  “That’s it, dear…”  For all of your sputtering below, you manage to resist the need to release him by the time he finally jerks you back.  

He gives you a minute to gasp desperately before pressing the gun to your temple. Your eyes flutter open as if you'd forgotten the lingering threat.  Your pupils are blown and the way you squirm is all too obvious.

He knew you'd like this. 

Somewhere, deep past that layer of fear, there was a part of you so aroused by this that you couldn’t help but let it affect you.  Maybe, with his cock down your throat, you realized that this was what you’d always wanted too.  That all those sweet little looks you’d hide when he’d turn your way weren’t for nothing.  That your lust for your Captain was coming to fruition in an unorthodox way that was still just as delicious as whatever sinful thoughts you’ve kept of him all this time.

“I'm impressed. But you can do better for me, can’t you?”  Wesker’s eyes roll when you dive back in of your own accord, suckling and swirling the tip in a way that screams more than mere survival instinct.  It takes no time at all for him to give in and start with slow thrusts into your mouth.  Paired with the way he controls the bobbing of your head makes it truly like heaven itself.  Wesker could damn well forget everything– where he was, all that had happened, even the Tyrant mere feet away meant nothing right now.  Your little gags and chokes around his shaft ring like music to his ears, drowning out the hum of machinery preserving his subject, echoing in his mind to wash away every scream he’s heard since this mission began.

There’s just this.

Just you and him.

“That’s– mmh, that’s it!”  Wesker’s breaths grow heavier by the second and he presses the muzzle harder to your temple, wordlessly demanding that you keep up with those wicked glides of your tongue, keep swallowing his cock, keep fucking taking him.

His mask begins to slip with every weakening moan that was never meant to make it past his lips until finally– fucking finally– he holsters that damned gun and grips your head with his other hand, hips rolling until that familiar tightening sensation grows and grows and your name chokes breathlessly from his lips.  With one last sharp thrust, Wesker buries himself to the base, hands pulling your face flush to his groin as he paints your throat with his release.  His thighs quake and he can just barely register your hands grasping to still him.

He tries so hard to be quiet and maintain that perfect decorum of his, but it’s useless to try.  Not when he’s balls deep in your mouth, not when he knows he’s claimed you from the inside out.  He’s thought of this too many times.  Of how he’d have loved to have you on your knees under his desk back in his office.  You’d suck him just as sweetly as you’ve done now, one hand stroking the base of his cock while the other smooths up and down his leg.  He’d let you get him close– so fucking close. He’d let you get him right on the brink of losing himself and then kick away in his swivel chair and fuck you senseless on the desk.  He wouldn’t even care if the rest of the team could hear the sweet sounds you sing for him.  He’d fill you over and over again until his come leaks from you.  He’d kneel down and eat you clean just so he could fill you all over again.

Every fantasy flashes in his mind as the throbbing bliss tapers away.  This absolutely cannot be the last time he has you.  

It won’t be.

Wesker pulls out slowly, staring down intently to watch every inch slip free.  His thumbs wipe away at your tear tracks before kneeling to your level.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”  He asks as if he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation and made you think your only way out was to let him fuck your mouth.  He smiles at you, though, try as he might, he can’t quite manage that same wicked smirk he’d given you earlier.  The facade has faded, and he’s back to the same old Captain Wesker who used to hide his smiles at your quips.  The same one who now feels the tiniest pang of guilt at how spooked and used you look.

There's one last thing he needs from this moment. He couldn't possibly let it pass him by knowing he may never have the chance again. And, if he's lucky, you'll understand every unspoken word. 

Wesker leans forward, hands cupping your face to bring you into a kiss that was far from the depravity he'd shown you mere moments ago. Your squeak of shock is swallowed by him, and it's the perfect opportunity to wiggle his tongue into your mouth and explore to his heart's content– pleased to no end when you reciprocate.

“You've always been,” he pants between wet pecks to your lips, “my favorite of the bunch.”  One of your arms loops around his neck, and that’s when it hits him.

Cold steel presses beneath his jaw and he smiles against you, proud beyond measure that you'd pulled one over on him so easily. 

“Still trust me?”  He asks.

“Should I?”  You counter, panting softly against him.  He can see the way doubt blends with belief.  You’re the picture perfect specimen of indecision and he would just love to see your reaction to this…

“Go on.  Pull.”  Wesker murmurs. “Trust your Captain.”

When you make not even so much as a twitch to flinch from what you’d expect to be an exceptionally loud mess, he grasps your hand, finger creeping over yours to direct it onto the trigger.

How peculiar that, much like he’d done, you hadn’t even put it on there.

You look at him with wide eyes for the hundredth time since you found him, suddenly looking much more terrified than when he’d first aimed it at you.

“Wesker, I–”

Click.

You flinch for nothing, and Wesker simply gives you a smug grin as he watches you realize you were never truly in danger.  You run through a variety of emotions.  Anger, betrayal, disbelief, acceptance… 

“What's wrong, my dear?”  Wesker purrs, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “You didn’t think I’d actually kill you, did you?”

The look on your face elicits a deep, amused chuckle. 

“Foolish.  I suppose you’ll need to be made to understand just how deep my appreciation for you goes, hm?”  With his free hand, he removes his gun from your grasp before pushing you slowly onto your back.  Your chest heaves in anticipation, though you lack that deer-in-the-headlights look from earlier.

Good.

Wesker removes his glasses, placing them on your head to rest against your hair.

“Remember,” he whispers, leaning down to nibble at the side of your neck. “Trust your Captain.”

[roseyodditea]

Shooting Practice - Boothill x gn! Reader

Summary -> Cowboy teaches you how to shoot.

Warnings -> Mentions of a gun (no actual violence)

A/N -> Fun fact, this is the first thing I've ever posted. Created an account just for this. Feedback and suggestions welcome! I'll figure out how to format better later lmao

***************

“Hold it steady” The deep southern drawl rang gently right next to your ear, his metal hand cold against your wrist. “Back up and let me do it myself,” You try to not grit your teeth, the cowboy once again far too… overbearing.

Boothill let out a scoff of annoyance, watching you hold the gun shakily in your hand, but he did back up, crossing his arms. You stood with your legs far too close together, arms too overextended, aim entirely off. It was abysmal to watch for the gunslinger. There was a sharp crack in the air, followed by your groan of frustration. 

You placed the gun down on the table in front of you, taking off the hearing protection that hugged your head too tightly. Boothill chucked, “Told ya s-” “Don’t.” You glared at the man, that stupid cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe you’re just an awful teacher.” Boothill stepped close, grabbing his spare pistol off of the table and slipping it into your hands again. “Nah. C’mon. Let’s try again” He stood behind you, too close yet again. The smell of motor oil, gunpowder, and the cheap cologne attempting to cover up the stench of the oil invaded your nostrils. “Feet shoulder width apart” He says, waiting for you to adjust your stance.

“You don’t have to go through the steps so slowly” You practically growl, frustrated.

“I’ll stop goin’ so slow when you get it right” He growled right back, matching your less than thrilled energy.

“Don’t sass me while I’m holding a gun, Boothill.”

“We both know I’m quicker, sugar” He chuckled. “Feet shoulder width apart, shootin’ foot back, relax, and don’t lock your elbows” He guides rather gently for a man you’ve watched gun down IPC without a second thought. “Eyes on the target, deep breath, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.” You took a moment to go through the checklist. Feet apart, dominant foot back, relaxed… Boothill’s hand on your waist, making sure your torso wasn’t turned. You could feel the chill of the metal, hear the crackling of his synthetic voice box, his body breathing out of habit rather than a need. He was paying very close attention to your stance, and you could feel it. You could feel his gaze, his crosshair eyes locked onto you. “Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” You sigh out through clenched teeth.

“Take the shot.” That was the only answer you were going to get out of him as he didn’t listen, only kept looking at you expectantly. 

There was a crack, followed by a clink, the empty beer can that was setup on the table being knocked over.

“Oh my god! I did it!” You placed the gun down and excitedly turned to Boothill, who had a huge grin on his face. Without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around the cowboy who you had spent the last half hour trying not to slap. It only took a split second of hesitation before he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Can’t believe you actually hit it.” He teased, chuckling softly.

“Just be proud of me.” You plead softly, resting your head on his metal chest, feeling it grow slightly warmer, the once quiet hum of cooling fans getting louder.

“With a stance that fudgin’ shaky I’m shocked you-” “Boothill!” You smack his chest, the soft sound echoing in his chest compartment. His hands move to rest on your hips as he smirks at you.

“Fine fine… I’m proud of you, sugar.” He says in a shockingly genuine tone. “We can work on makin’ you a bit quicker in the future. You take that long linin’ up your shot and you’ll end up dead.” You didn’t respond. You didn’t want to. You were so used to the cowboy being loud and brash, but now he was being soft and caring… borderline tolerable, a new record for the man. Boothill always said he was a dead man walking, but right now he seemed more alive than ever. 

“Thank you for doing this.” You said after a long beat of silence, a slight crackle in your voice as you tried to swallow the emotions you thought you were so good at hiding. 

“Of course.” He replies just as softly. “I want to make sure you’ll be alright when I’m out on bounties” “You say that like you’re going to come back.” You scoff, trying not to make it sound like you wanted him to. 

Boothill looked away, swiping a hand down his face and letting out a breath, adjusting his hat before looking back into your eyes. “Well… this planet is out of IPC space and has good liquor. Pretty easy to hitch a ride to and from. And it has you.” He adds on, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t hung up on the word ’you’. 

“I’d like for you to come back.” You confess and before you can even take a moment to process the words either of you had just said, cold lips were on yours, metal hands on either sides of your face, the cooling fans in his cyborg body spinning impossibly faster as he pulled away, looking at you in shock.

“I think I’d like to come back to you, sugar”

***************

[mattatouilletkachuk]

Can you combine 8 & 9 from your off-season prompt list for John? 😂

An Abrupt Wake Up || John Marino

Prompt: 8. “You snore. Loudly.” & 9. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.”

WC: 1k+

A/N: I know I’m a slow writer but I had to post something for John’s birthday!

Summary: Making your relationship official during the hockey season was amazing, however, the off-season sheds some light on some things you didn’t know about your boyfriend previously.

Despite officially dating John for five months, now. You had never actually seen him get a good night's sleep. You spent the night over at his place and he’s slept over at yours so by now you thought that you understood his bedtime routine and weird sleeping idiosyncracies.

You were wrong.

For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that John would sleep differently during the off-season than during the regular hockey season. He had always seemed like such a light sleeper. Coming back from a game or a roadie and just passing out and waking up a few hours later still in the same position he fell asleep in. This Summer you had quickly come to realize that he wasn’t getting really sleeping, if he was getting anything it was a power nap.

You had only come to this realization this morning as you watched him sleep and listened to his air horn of a snore. When he invited you to come home with him to Boston this Summer, you thought it would be peaceful and relaxing. There wouldn’t be any nerves because you had already met his family during the season. You couldn’t have predicted that your eyes would be bloodshot and that you’d have bags under your eyes after the first night. It wasn’t your preferred method of staying awake all night because of John, in fact, you’d rather stay awake with John, but that wasn’t the case.

Your eyes shifted over to the clock on the bedside table and you realize that now would usually be the time that you would wake up and get ready for the day. Instead, you wanted to grab earplugs and hide under the thick comforter and sleep until the sun went down but because that wasn’t an option at the moment you decided that John would just have to be awake with you.

There wasn’t much thought put into it before you leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed one of the decorative pillows and came back up and hit him in the face with it. Had you not been so grumpy from your lack of sleep you probably would have felt bad or at the very least chucked the pillow across the room to get rid of the evidence.

With one final deep and guttural snore, John sat upright in a panic, blinking his eyes several times before they finally adjusted and landed on you.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You almost felt bad.

You shrugged your shoulders and adjusted your pillow before you snuggled into it. “It’s time to wake up. You said you wanted to hit the gym early.”

John rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, similar to the way that you did you few moments ago. As he stretched you used it as an opportunity to steal some of the comforter that he was using.

“I actually feel well-rested,” his voice was deep and heavy and you usually would have pulled him back into bed for some morning fun before he went off to the gym but now you just wanted him to go lift weights or run on a treadmill for a little while while you slept the day away. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.“

John’s last few words made you peek your head out from under the blankets and finally take in your boyfriend. His curly hair which you loved so much was a mess and he was rubbing at his eyes. Despite your previous frustration and your current exhaustion, your heartbeat sped up as you looked at him. For the first time in months, he did, honestly, look well-rested and although it was at the cost of your own sleep you still smiled knowing that this Summer you were probably going to see a new side to John. A side that the hockey season had no room for.

No more words were said between the two of you as you fell lightly in and out of sleep and John got ready to go to the gym. It was only after he laced up his shoes and grabbed his gym bag that he came over to give you a kiss goodbye. You smiled softly at the touch but immediately frowned as you remembered something.

“You snore. Loudly.“ It’s quiet and had John not been inches away from your face he probably wouldn’t have heard it but he needed to know. You weren’t about to let him leave and have him be clueless.

“What?” Confusion was written all over his face as he stood up. It wasn’t hurt or anger but you wondered if the confusion was because of your timing or if he really didn’t know he snored. Surely he had to know, an atomic bomb would be quieter than him.

You pulled the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes as you said, “You have got to give a person a warning when you snore that loud. It’s common courtesy. It’s like if you offered me orange juice and I said ‘yes’ but you gave me a glass of orange juice but with pulp.”

When he remained silent you cracked an eye open to look at him. He found it humorous and even while you were close to falling asleep, you were also itching to hit him with a pillow again. “Warning is all I’m asking for because last night I learned that when you aren’t playing hockey you moonlight as Thomas the Train.”

John’s laughter filled the bedroom. It wasn’t just the sleeping that felt different. It was his entire being, he slept harder, laughed louder, and in general seemed lighter. You loved this man but you bit your tongue. It wasn’t the right time for you to confess your feelings. Not right now.

“While I’m out I’ll pick up some noise-canceling headphones or earbuds for you,” he finally says as he leans down again to kiss you softly on the lips.

You give him one last peck before pulling back and smiling up at him with what probably seems like a dreamy expression but you couldn’t care less.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

“I’ll see you later, baby”

[axelsagewrites]

James Potter*Heroic Deed

young!James x f!reader

Word count 1200

Warnings: bullying/shy reader

A/n: I've missed writing for my mauraders boys

Masterlist here

James wasn’t sure why he found potions so boring he just knew he’d rather be anywhere else right now. perhaps it was in the dungeons or that so far Slughorn had gave him and his friends the most detentions so far this year. usually, he would sit next to Sirius and have a silent competition of who could make the worse smelling potion but unfortunately for him Sirius was sick. selfish bastard, James thought. imagine not letting him know so he could try skiving with him.

James perched his chin on his fist, gazing aimlessly around the classroom as the students filtered in. with no one sitting beside him he was actually able to notice things like the surprisingly pretty girl who had just walked in. James sat up straight as she walked past, trying to get a glimpse of her tie to no avail when his attention got snatched away, “Mr Potter, on time I see,” Slughorn chortled as he took his place at the front of the room.

“You caught me Horrace,” James grinned making the potions master grimace at the boy before beginning his lesson.

James had the perfect view of the class from his comfy spot at the back of the room however that did not mean he was going to listen. peter and Remus sat in front of him however for some reason they both seemed to enjoy this stupid class so even if he passed a note Remus would just chuck it in a cauldron.

so instead as Slughorn explained a meaningless task in explicit detail James eyes roamed the room till they fell on the girl he had noticed. James began to beat himself up. how had he taken this class for two whole months now and never noticed you? James realised you were sat alone and silently hoped partner work was needed in this lesson.

as his mind began to wander, wondering if he in fact had been blind this whole time, he noticed a piece of parchment bounce off your hair. his eyes narrowed, wondering who would throw a note that hard when he saw the rolled-up parchment fly up from the floor only to hit into your head again. James scowled when he saw you trying to swot the parchment away but with each attempt you missed.

“Yes miss (Y/L/N)?” Slughorn said making James eyes snap up and you to mumble an apology, “Please don’t raise your hand without a question to ask class,” he said as he turned back towards the board.

the sniggers coming from a table two seats away made James turn his head. A Ravenclaw and Slytherin boy sat laughing under their breaths at your helplessness as the Ravenclaw was flicking their wand under the table. they’d hexed the parchment James realised.

he hated that he wanted to know how they did it but hated that they were doing it to you more. James silently picked up the bezoar stone that sat amongst his ingredient pile for the day and began to wrap it up in a sheet of parchment. James sat back in his chair, waiting silently for Slughorn to turn around when something better happened. “Horrace a word?” Minnie said from the doorway with two Slytherin firsties by her side.

score, thanks Minnie, James thought as Slughorn slugged out of the class, shutting the door. when he saw the Ravenclaw raise his wand from under the table, presumably to also do something worse than fling parchment, James quickly lobbed the wrapped-up bezoar stone across the room. it smacked the Ravenclaws arm with a loud thud, making him drop his wand, before bouncing off his arm and directly into the Slytherin head.

“Hey!” The Ravenclaw screeched as James did his best to mock his innocence from where he sat as Slughorn suddenly opened the door again.

however, the Slytherin in all his genius did not notice his head of house when he stormed over to James table, “Watch it Potter,” he spat, “Or I’ll- “

“You’ll what?” Minnie shouted across the room making the boy pale instantly.

“He threw something it us,” the boy stuttered as Minnie quickly crossed the room and picked up the parchment that the stone was missing from, making even James face screw up in confusion. Minie gave the boys a death glare as they tried to explain themselves.

“Another thirty points from Slytherin,” Slughorn boomed over the classroom before dismissing the terrifying first years, “Grow up boys it was a piece of paper,” he scoffed at the pair before looking at James making him hold his hands up in mock innocence.

James did his best not to jump with glee as he celebrated his win. Remus shot him a confused look, but he figured he could tell his heroic dead over supper. when McGonagall left and Slughorn finally managed to continue he announced that everyone was to partner with their desk partner to start work on their potions. “Yes, mister potter?” he sighed at James outstretched hands.

“Mister Sirius is not here,”

Slughorn sighed before he turned to the mystery girl James had bravely defended, “Sorry Miss (Y/L/N),” he said before turning back to James, “You can partner with her this lesson. don’t torture the poor girl potter,”

James tried to hide his grin as he quickly grabbed his stuff and moved to the table in the first row. “Closest I’ve ever been to the front,” James joked as he sat beside you, outstretching his hand. “James,” he introduced himself.

you gave a small smile as you shook his hand and offered him your own name. as James flicked back to the right page, he noticed you slip something from your pocket, “You dropped this,” you said, sliding the stone to his side of the desk. James practically felt his heart double as he turned to you with a shocked expression, “And thank you,”

“No problem doll,” James grinned as he picked up the stone. he silently joyed in the blush you tried to cover with your hair, “I will warn you im terrible at potions,”

You laughed in a way that didn’t feel demeaning as you took the stone back from James hand and sat it in a mortar, “Ill teach you don’t worry. just start grinding that up for now,”

“Do we only need one?” he asked to which you nodded. James took it back out the mortar before reaching over the desk to the sat the one you had already collected, “Then let’s keep this one as a keepsake and use this,” he said as he began to grind up the non-thrown bezoar.

“Who knew James Potter was so sentimental?” you joked but James knew it was to cover the heat rising to your face.

“Theres lots you don’t know about me yet,” he said as he scooted his chair closer to yours, “So what steps next love?”

James couldn’t help but enjoy this potions lesson now. by the end of class, he had even made a functioning potion. “Well, well mister potter,” Slughorn said as he handed him the vial they had made, “Perhaps it’s time I changed the seating arrangements,”

“I couldn’t agree more professor,”

Part two here

Taglist: @clairacassidy

[tales-from-elysivm]

Jinx x f!reader and their first kiss, date, time, fight, all that couple stuff short little pieces of girlies being cute

★。／ get jinxed ＼。★

pairing: jinx x f!reader

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,612

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and some suggestive/NSFW content! MDNI!

notes: this is a fic i am really excited for! Thank you again for the request anon! It was really fun to write, and i got through it pretty quickly to be perfectly honest because of that haha. Not proofread because im tired, and i have no shame :D enjoy!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

➼ first date with jinx 

You worked under Silco delivering shimmer across Zaun. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t have been doing this, it could get you arrested without question and you’d find yourself in Stillwater. But it paid well, and working so closely with the Eye of Zaun meant you didn’t have to worry as much about danger in Zaun. People saw you as a god-send, you gave them their weekly hit, if anything, the danger made them respect you. 

It was during this time that you met Jinx, while picking up your next delivery of shimmer from Silco’s warehouse. She had been there to speak with him privately about some arson issue that happened in Piltover. You had heard briefly about a lanky, blue-haired girl that would build bombs in the open space beneath the warehouse, but it was rare that anyone had ever seen her. But you managed. Somehow.

She intercepts you on your trade route, setting bombs off in the street just across from one of your clients. Jinx claims to recognise you from skulking around the warehouse. And at some point her chaotic energy and her strange inability to sit still seems to lull you into some sense of security. She’s just the perfect idea of unpredictability that you needed in your otherwise boring Zaunite lifestyle. (Though you were very lucky, all things considered.)

Your first date is a simple diner one. At first, you didn’t even know it was a date, just that she wanted to do something fun with you. She takes you in to meet her favourite bartender Chuck, who seems to almost slink beneath the counter when she drags you in. I feel like Jinx would give you a little monkey bomb as a gift for your first date - though it isn’t set, it’s pretty harmless. Other than that she bombards you with strange bursts of Jinx-aligned humour, and rambles at length about her various inventions, promising to take you down to her workshop to show you everything, while tightly gripping your fingers with chipped blue nails. 

And something in those bright, blue eyes makes you think that maybe this unpredictability could be quite fun. 

‘Don’t ya get bored frownin’ like that?’ jinx drums her nails on her glass, the clinking echoing throughout the empty bar. It was quite odd, you reckon, for it to be this quiet, but maybe its just jinx. 

In her own way of trying to get a smile out of you she starts spouting some random jokes. Tries telling her own funny stories. They all mostly revolve around bombs or explosive presentations she’s organised at piltover events. Mainly the absurdity of it all gets a laugh out of you, or you just smile at the giddy, child-like happiness you see in her eyes. Something that seems so pure (ignoring the fact that she’s probably an arsonist and on several watchlists)

‘There ya go!’ she cheers, grabbing onto your hands and interlacing your fingers. You think maybe you should paint your nails too to match her, see if it makes her happy. ‘You look so much prettier with a smile, trinket’

➼ first kiss with jinx 

It was after your third or fourth date that you ended up spending your free time in the warehouse. Jinx begins showing you all the new inventions she’s making, and all her designs for cartoony monkey bombs, you even help her draw out a few, including a cutesy little cat one that she isn’t as fond of, but she still makes one for you. 

Most of your relationship consists of Jinx making you little trinkets, like keychains, safe bombs, little bracelets and rings, and strange, misshapen sculptures made of leftover metal pieces. 

She loves you, in a very Jinx-way. She’s touchy but never very pushy. Long hugs, cuddles on a couch that she has balancing on a metal propellor in her warehouse, letting you braid her hair when she’s tired (please brush her hair, she will melt, and she needs some softness), holding hands in Zaun or dragging you to her private meetings with Silco. Whether you like it or not, you have the Eye of Zaun as an adopted father figure now. He isn’t quite sure what to think about it either. 

It is one of those cuddle sessions, after she is plagued by the voices that taunt her, that you end up just holding her face into your neck and sitting with her. These are the most important to her, like she can feel safe for once. 

‘Thank ya toots,’ she curls around you, straddling your lap and looking down on you with an innocent pout on her face. You don’t have to ask what she’s thanking you for, this has become a pretty regular occurrence. 

In her moment of calmed silence, you untie one of her braids and begin to brush through her long, blue locks with your fingers. She immediately melts into your hands, leaning forward to lean into your chest, gazing up at you. 

‘I feel like ya deserve somethin,’ she says absently, tapping her chin with one nail. Then a mischievous smile crosses her lips. ‘C’mere!’

She eagerly grabs your cheeks, barely giving you a second to register what’s happening before she smushes your faces together. Her lips are chapped, but her kiss is so enthusiastic that you have to take a moment before returning it. Your hand grips her hair in between tight fingers. 

The rest of your cuddle sesh is spent with soft, hurried kisses.

➼ first fight with jinx 

You don’t often fight with Jinx, you don’t like to yell at her or be upset, and watch her usually gleeful expression drop into that of a kicked puppy. But you were worried about her this time. 

She had gone up to piltover against Silco’s wishes again, most likely to stir up trouble, so he decided to send you after her to drag her back to Zaun. When you had gotten there however, you found only the debris of her explosions, the spraypaint she loved, clouds of coloured smoke, and guards everywhere. 

And no Jinx.

No sign of her or where she could be, you had no choice but to return to Zaun before you got dragged into the oncoming investigation, empty-handed. You spend the rest of the day worrying over where she might be in her workshop, sitting with your head in your hands on the couch. Is she hurt? Captured? She could be dead for all you know.

So when she shows up again, seemingly ignorant to how long she has been gone or the stress she has caused, you can’t help but raise your voice, crying about how you had expected the worst. You scream back and forth for a bit before she leaves you to burn off her energy.

‘Hey trinket,’ the door to her warehouse screeches open, and she stands in the entrance, looking at you as you sit on the couch, barely even looking at her. ‘Ya still mad at me?’

She sighs when she doesn’t get a response, coming close to wipe at the dried tear-stains on your cheeks, setting down her tools and her guns to favour your face between her hands. Jinx makes sure you can see only her.

‘I’m sorry i vanished, i didnt mean to scare ya, honest.’ she pulls you down to lean into her shoulder, still stroking your cheeks with her fingers. ‘Can ya forgive me, trinket? I’ll make it up to ya, i promise.’

Jinx cuddles with you on the couch for the rest of the day, showering you in kisses at your request. Safe to say, you can’t stay mad at her for very long at all.

|| ! mdni content below ! ||

➼ first time with jinx 

Jinx has always loved touching you, whether it’s a hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, or a hug from behind. She just loves to be close to you. But when you begin talking about the idea of sex with her she immediately jumps on the idea (and probably jumps on you as soon as you bring it up, you only barely manage to drag her somewhere private)

She’s an enthusiastic lover in all things, of course. Fucking you isn’t going to be any different. But she’s gentle the first time, despite it all, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, i don’t think Silco really prepared her for intimate relationships. 

But still, having sex with Jinx is amusing, its not serious, always cracking little jokes or tickling each other and finding little ways to be comfortable with the process. You can’t really find it in you to be nervous. 

She’d start slowly with you though, if you wanted, just to make you comfortable <3 

‘God trinket, ya look s’ pretty like this for me,’ she’s already slightly breathless, skirting her hands and dragging her chipped nails over your ribs. She lays you down on the couch in her warehouse, sitting between your thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Ya feel alright?’ she checks in occasionally, just to be sure. 

But she lets her hands wander at the same time, she can tell you aren’t going to say no just by the look in your eyes, urging her to continue. She lets her hands travel over your stomach and down in between your thighs, but she doesn’t hurry where you need her. No, she prefers to tease you. Just a little bit to get you squirming. 

When she does finally reach your core, dipping her fingers in between your folds, does she finally let up and give you what you want.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey I saw that your requests are open so I decided to send one your way. A while ago you did a request for tfa character’s reaction to a spider-buddy. I was wondering if you could do something similar to that. Specifically, I’d like your take on how the tfa elite guard (Jazz, Jetfire, Jetstorm, and Sentinel) would react to spider-buddy.

Spidey Buddy lives!!!!

Hope you enjoy!

Spidey Buddy meeting Jazz, Jettwins, and Sentinel

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFA

Jazz

Spidey and Jazz met through Prowl once the Guard came back to Earth.

He finds Spidey to be an interesting person.

At first, he thinks that Spidey is a new type of human he hasn’t met.

Color him surprised when he finds out that they are just like an outlier on Cybertron.

Reminds Jazz of the Jettwins.

Has a lot of respect for the tiny human trying to do good for their community while helping Optimus’s team.

Loves watching them swing around the city with their webs.

Jazz has tried seeing how strong the webs can be.

Jazz hanging upside down from the top of a building. Spidey drops down a bit hanging upside down from a single web. Spidey: “Do you have any more doubts, Jazz?” Jazz: “Just one question.” Spidey: “Yeah? And that is…?” Jazz: “How do I get down?” Spidey: "Hold that thought.” Spidey climbs back up the roof and beings to pull the Autobot up. Jazz has a priceless face seeing Spidey pulling him up. Spidey: “Oh yeah, I’m also really strong!” Jazz: “Coulda fool me.”

Jazz love testing the Spidey sense, especially when they do mock spar sessions.

Never in his imagination would he think he’d be sparing at an almost equal with a partner smaller than any minibot back home.

If Spidey ever needs help, Jazz will do one of two things.

If he is available, Jazz is rushing to their side ready to help.

But, if he is under strict orders from Sentinel, he’ll make sure to send any available bot to go help Spidey out.

Jettwins

They met Spidey through Bumblebee.

The yellow minibot claimed to know a human outlier and they wanted to meet them.

The twins quickly become fans of Spidey after seeing their powers and how much good they had brought with them.

Jetfire wants to know more about the action-packed patrols and missions Spidey has gone through.

Jetstorm wants to go on patrol with them.

They have had a moment with Spidey’s web weapons.

Spidey and Jazz looking at the web mummified Jettwins. Spidey: “What did I say about going through my stuff?” Jetfire: “This is an easy fix, watch!” There is a faint glow, but it quickly goes off. Spidey: “Did I mention that these webs are highly fire resistant? And don’t even try and use the wind, Stormy.” Jetstorm: “Can you get us out?” Spidey looks at Jazz. Spidey: “After 15-minute time out then we’ll start with the webs. Fun fact did you know it takes hours to get that gunk off? You can ask Bee.” Frustrated Jettwin noises increase.

The twins love it when the Spidey sense goes off.

So much that they like to throw random things at Spidey to see them dodge or catch it.

Jazz and Optimus do tell them to stop after they chucked a trashbot at them.

Will drop everything if Spidey calls them for back up.

They have a plethora of excuses on why they had to leave their post for Sentinel anyways.

Sentinel

Poor Spidey…

Sentinel is screaming once Spidey deploys the webs.

Spidey hanging upside down from their web, waving happily. Spidey: “Hi! You must be Sentinel—” Spidey narrowly escapes the blast and the rapid fire of fist. Spidey: “WHAT DID I DO!?” Sentinel: “Take this you filthy organic—”

TWANG!

Sentinel falls to the floor with Optimus standing over him venting a bit. Out of pure reaction, Optimus had punched Sentinel in his asteroid sized chin to stop him from trying to hit Spidey. Spidey lands on Optimus’s shoulder. Spidey: “Yeesh! And I thought you were bad when the webs came out.”

Optimus does have a shred of sympathy for his friend, but at the same time finds it a bit funny.

It’s the equivalent of a person hanging from a chandelier to get away from a mouse.

Sentinel refuses to get to know Spidey or even acknowledge them.

No matter how much the tiny hero tries, Sentinel refuses to budge.

His prejudice against organics increases tenfold when Spidey is in the room.

Can not stand the tiny ‘hero’.

Refuses to answer the question about him screaming into his room after catching a glance at Spidey’s fangs.

Hates the Spidey sense with every fiber of his being.

Sentinel, did in fact, scream and ran to his room hiding for a total of 5 hours after Spidey yawned.

[khoipyan]

I’m the Enemy, You’re the Lover.

Ever tired of you being the one to hate the other in the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope? Congratulations, you get to be the annoyance of a certain boy instead!

gn!reader (you/your), floyd leech x reader, enemies to lovers (except floyd is the one that gets annoyed with you), uhh you get called ‘fish’ because it came to me in a dream (and it’s pretty broad giggles), the card game UNO exists in this world bc why not?

notes; i’ve never seen somebody write an enemies to lovers except it’s one-sided and YOU’RE the ‘enemy’ so here ya go.

notes2; 2.3k+ WORDS OH MY GOD. have fun readong ig

1. TRY HARDER

There had been a certain boy that was bothering you lately — teal hair with a black streak to the right paired with mismatched tired, heterochromatic eyes, and a tall figure — and you didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, you were so unsure what to do that the problem eventually resolved itself.

You sat beside that certain boy in class, and saw him nearly everyday; for some reason, he’d been trying to poke fun at you. Of course, being the bigger person, you don’t let your anger get to the best of you. Actually, you didn’t feel annoyed at all, let alone angry. So what if he kept throwing paper balls at the back of your head in class? He’d eventually stop midway when the professor told him off, or he’d stop himself when he got bored.

The most memorable moment of his antics though, was when he decided to talk to you directly. It wasn’t long before he tried to have a word with you, because you captivated his interest.

“Hey, lil’ fishy. How are ya doin’?” A tall shadow hovered over your table. Was it really a shock if you already knew who it was? Floyd Leech, the infamous twin of Jade Leech, who was the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle.

You only stared at the Floyd as you took another bite of your food. So casually, you spoke: “Hello. Do I know you?”

He shook his head, “I sit behind you in class! It’s pretty hard not to know me, you know?”

“I barely noticed actually,” you spoke so nonchalantly. Unbothered. “what’s your name?”

But ever since that conversation, everything had been different. Not that it bothered you, of course. It seemed like that one, single question was enough to leave you trailed with numerous attempts of agitation everywhere you went, but ultimately it had little to no impact on you. Over the weeks, you grew almost immune to Floyd’s attempts to peeve you.

The only actual mini-dilemma you had was when he chucked an eraser-filled paper ball at your head, to which you nearly shouted, “Ow!” to a ominously quiet classroom filled with the sounds of scribbling. Seriously, what was his problem?

He even followed you around to the library when you needed to study. Poking your shoulders, draping himself all over you, flicking at the pages of your book; it was like a never-ending round of torment, and yet you were somehow able to put up with this.

Even with the heavy weight upon your shoulders, you still studied the book as well as you did when Floyd wasn’t around.

And it finally happened; Floyd stopped leaning his full weight onto your body, and sat in his own library chair properly. “You’re a tough fish to scale, you know that?”

Without missing a beat you countered back, “I never asked you to follow me like a dog at my heel,” all while still absorbed in your book.

It was silent for the rest of your study session.

2. TRIED HARDER

There had been a certain person that was bothering Floyd — there weren’t any words to describe this person, not that he could think of — and he didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, he was so unsure what to do that he soon had hit an epiphany.

Floyd no longer visited you outside of class, nor did he throw paper balls at your head. It was actually very peaceful, knowing you had a moment of peace to yourself. Company or not, you didn’t seem to mind Floyd’s antics at all.

And that greatly annoyed him.

Why were you so difficult to probe at? What could he do to get a reaction from you? He’s been trying for weeks, only to no avail. Why aren’t you scared, or pissed at him? Floyd didn’t get it at all, and eventually he just gave up; he didn’t need to understand, who cares? Not him.

Don’t even talk about his moods, it’s been a rollercoaster lately. Every time he saw you, he wanted to walk over to you and converse so badly, but he didn’t. What’s the point if he couldn’t even get one tiny frightened expression out of you? Why did he even want to talk to you so badly? What was stopping him? Floyd just wanted to push you around until you toppled over like a bowling pin.

Why did you tolerate him so much? Why not scream at him and lose your cool, like Riddle? Or why didn’t you decline his company out of fear, hatred? You clearly had no ill-intent for him, and kept up so well.

Questions. Pondering, walking back and forth while his shoes click with each step beneath him on the flooring of Mostro Lounge, it was all he could do for a few days when—

It hit him.

“No, no, it was something else,” Ace argued, still chewing his sandwich.

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows at the redhead, “Please stop talking with your mouth open. It’s… gross.”

“I agree,” You nodded along with Deuce.

Ace swallowed, and then promptly spoke. “‘Kay, sorry. But still, I stand by what I sai— Oh. Erm.”

Your head tilted at Ace with confusion, “What? Something wrong?” It’s not like some monster was standing behind him, ready to grab onto his—

OHDEARLORD—

You yelped at the pair of hands being placed on your shoulders, following with the feeling of being quite literally thrown. Not thrown violently though, but over somebody’s shoulders; Floyd Leech, is that you? Ace and Deuce only watched as you and Floyd got smaller within the distance, while you helplessly tried to get the eel to release you.

“What’s your deal all of a sudden—?” You asked.

Floyd paused, and then gave you a generous smile, “I wanna play. It’s no fun when I play by myself, right?”

“Yeah, but weren’t you fed up with me last week? You literally got up, shoved your library chair into the table so hard that it fell over, and then slammed the door on your way out.”

“Naaah. Was just a short phase, ya know how I am. Don’t worry! This time we’ll get to play together, not just me playing with you like a chew toy.”

Oh wow, how comforting! You practically stopped abusing his back with your fists as you watched the hallways rock back and forth as you were being hauled away.

3. TRY AGAIN

“UNO!”

“Floyd, you have ten cards. You call uno when you place down your second to last card.”

In what world could you have imagined yourself playing uno in Floyd’s room? This one, perhaps. You two were in pyjamas sitting on the floor of his room, playing this frustrating card game. You and him have gone through several games, a wide variety from video games, board games, to straight up watching stupid cat videos on his phone (although it was nearly impossible to see his screen, because he was holding it in front of him and you refused to lean over his shoulder to get a better look). What made Floyd treat you so nicely this time?

“Yeah, so what? Let’s play something else,” Floyd shrugged as he lazily scooped up all the UNO cards and placed them back into a ziplock bag — you heard me right, a ziplock bag, because apparently Floyd had lost the actual box for the cards — before crawling over to you and draping his body over yours. Man, was he heavy.

As you attempted to push him off (with no success), your eyes darted towards the clock; analog, but it would do. “Ah, Floyd, you see— It’s time for me to head back to my own dorm, it’s kind of late.”

You could hear an overly-dramatic sigh from him as he got off, “Tomorrow then? Maybe? Pleaaaase? You wouldn’t leave a silly little guy like me alone for too long, would you?”

Okay, that’s a new one. Add that to the list of reasons not to leave Floyd, according to himself.

“Alright, alright. Tomorrow,” you said as you gave him a warm smile, “why am I always visiting you, don’t I bore you sometimes? Not that I mind, of course.” Did you mind? Now that you thought about it, lately you have been spending more time around him. It first started as Floyd hauling you around like a heavy beanbag when he wanted to loiter around with you, but now? You would be willingly taking his hand, and he’d no longer have to throw you over his shoulder.

Floyd blinked, and then only flashed his signature toothy grin, “Because I like spending time with you, obviously!”

4. WHO TRIED HARDER?

Little did you know, that was not the reason. Not most of it, at the very least.

Floyd’s little realization was when he was in bed snacking away at his stash of treats. Don’t judge him, he gets a lil’ hungry at night.

Anyways, has he ever realized no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get a reaction out of you? Why was that? What’s up with you? How did you manage to put up with him no matter what he did?

He actually kind of liked that. You know what, it was pretty cool.

Sure, it was fun when Floyd teased Riddle to the point of the little goldfishes’ face turning the same shade of red that his hair was, but… it was nice when you gave him no reaction. When you didn’t mind his bothering, when you didn’t mind his presence, him.

He actually had to set his snacks aside and think; he had loathed you at one point for giving him nothing in return for pestering you, isn’t that funny? Haha, ahaha. He’ll pester you again, but this time, make it better.

In fact, Floyd was already planning out the ideas in his head. Maybe he should drag you to his favourite places, or make you try his food; he’s a good cook when he wants to, after all!

There were so many things he wanted to do with you, and if you could tolerate him then, you could definitely play with him now. This time though, he’ll try to make sure you also enjoy yourself.

5. DID YOU TRY HARDER?

Recently, you had been spending lots of time with Floyd. Not that you minded though, as you previously stated that one night.

You were just lying in your bed when you thought more about it; not exactly a realization, but a thought before bed.

Floyd was treating you nicely, nicer, and you noticed. To be honest, you didn’t really want to spend so much time with him again. It wasn’t exactly worth your time, or so you thought.

However, your words were quickly proven false by Floyd (which is something you never thought could happen). It started to once a week, merely an hour, to almost everyday. At least once a day, he would greet you before heading to (or skipping) class.

The attention was nice, to be honest. Sometimes it got boring being alone, and it was alright with you at first. Loneliness is a tough thing to battle though, so Floyd was practically fighting it for you.

There was only one thought on your mind as you drifted of to sleep, your own realization:

‘I want to spend more time with you, if that’s okay. I wouldn’t mind at all.’

6. TRY YOUR HARDEST!

“Shut up! And give me the letter back, I wasn’t done writing it—!” As you reached for the unembellished letter, Floyd pushed your face away using his finger against your forehead. This little—

“Naaah. Let me read it, little fish! What’s up with you?”

Your attempts at taking the letter were failing, as Floyd read the contents. Slowly, his thrilled expression dropped, just a bit.

As Floyd read the letter, you stopped trying to grab it. This was very embarrassing. The letter wasn’t meant to be read, not ever, and especially not by Floyd himself.

“Dear Floyd,

There has been a certain Leech that was bothering me lately — teal hair with a black streak to the right paired with mismatched tired, heterochromatic eyes, and a tall figure — and I didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, I was so unsure what to do that the problem eventually resolved itself.

At first, you didn’t really catch my attention. I don’t usually give up my attention for people who attempt to pester me, which I think is fair. However, after spending lots of time with you, I’ve decided that I have taken a liking to you.

An extreme liking, though. I like spending time with you, and sometimes I even think I could spend the rest of my life with you forever. That doesn’t sound bad, does it?

Knowing that you’ll never read this letter, I can write whatever I want. So, I declare my love for you. I don’t know when I’ll tell you this (if ever, at all), but I love you.”

It was silent. The tension in the air was so thick, you could practically cut it up and serve it to people.

And then Floyd threw the letter aside, practically launching himself at you. It was hard not to fall to the ground as Floyd squeezed your life away (as gently as he could, but that wasn’t working out too well).

“Floy— Floyd, please—”

“But you LOVE me! You really really love me,” Floyd exclaimed as his grip only got tighter. “And I love you too! I knew I could win you over by dragging you around with me.”

“And what if it wasn’t a love letter?”

Floyd shrugged carelessly, “Then I’d just have to try some more.”

“And if I said no?”

“Ehh, I wouldn’t push it. I’m not like that, y’know. But you didn’t have to say no this time, ahaha!”

This was dearly embarrassing, but it did turn out well for you. You gave into Floyd’s embrace and hugged him back, with one final request:

“If it’s alright, I would like to take you somewhere this time.”

( due to be edited at anytime )

[cantthinkofanameforthis]

*Y/N calls Bruce’s phone for the fifth time since stealing it and chucking it in the ceiling*

Bruce: A lot of people here for some reason think it’s funny to steal someone personal property and hide it from them

*Y/N listens as she holds her office phone to her ear*

Bruce: Here’s the thing thought it’s not funny! In fact it’s pretty freakin unfunny!

*Bruce huffs and turns punching the wall behind him*

*Y/N’s eyes widen as she hangs up*

Bruce: That was an overreaction… I’m gonna hit the break room anyone want anything? Wanda you good?

Wanda: Yeah…

*Bruce walks to the breakroom*

*The welcome back party starts, Y/N and Wanda inspect the hole*

Y/N: My god, that’s half- inch drywall

Wanda: I think we broke his brain

*They both laugh as Natasha watches from afar*

Natasha: Everyone thinks it’s so hilarious that Bruce punched a hole in the wall

*Natasha rolls her eyes*

Natasha: I don’t know I guess I’m not in on the joke

*Later on Y/N sits alone in the conference room, Natasha walks in and sits next to her*

Y/N: Hey

*Natasha sighs*

Natasha: Do you still have feelings for her?

*Y/N doesn’t look at her*

Y/N: Yes…

*Natasha slowly nods, she gets up and leaves*

[crybaby-bkg]

I smell roses on your neck

Choso x reader Synopsis: While running from your toxic ex boyfriend, you stay at a small motel in an even smaller town. There, you meet Choso, seemingly the only worker there, who also, coincidentally never seems to sleep, either. He's nice for the most part, if not a little weird due to the fact that he's a vampire. Warnings: unedited bc I feel like poo 😭, vampire choso so vampy things of that nature such as biting, blood drinking, murder (not to reader!), reader receives oral sex and there is blood involved but not period sex, unprotected sex, riding, abusive unnamed ex boyfriend and I think that's all. please let me know if I missed anything and please enjoy!! Word Count: 10k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on Ao3

When it started to absolutely downpour, you could only sigh quietly to yourself with a shake of your head. It was late, your car was running out of gas, and there wouldn’t be another gas station for a few more miles. Fuck, why did everything have to go so wrong so quickly? If you just had a couple more days to prepare, to pack your bags, to leave without him ever seeing you, you wouldn’t be in the shitshow you’re in now. 

Your ex was a bit…clingy. Fuck that, he was an insecure, manipulative, controlling piece of shit and you were tired of it. After years and years of putting up with his shit, isolating yourself from everyone you’ve ever known, messing up every relationship with too many people, you finally decided to put your foot down. Get your shit, sneak out quietly in the night, start afresh in a new town with the money you, perhaps, hypothetically speaking, drained from his account. 

Except that he had come flying home the moment you took a single cent from his account, catching you in the middle of loading your car. There was a fight, there were tears on his end, eye rolls on yours, before he began screaming and threatening you. You had managed to escape when a concerned neighbor came out to your aid, and you flew down the street of the suffocating neighborhood he had kept you in. 

He gave chase for a little bit, and you realize that he knew where you were due to the tracker you’re pretty sure he put on your phone. So you chucked that out of the window, stopped a few towns over to liquidize all of the money in your account, insistent on carrying untraceable cash. 

It had done you some good for the first week, but the money was already starting to dwindle (fuck inflation, honestly). So you find yourself, now, at two in the morning looking for anything that’ll help you in the current moment. 

And almost like some forgotten god heard your prayer, you see the flashing lights of a motel just a quarter of a mile ahead. You lower your head in thanks, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you start to veer off in the direction of the motel. It didn’t have to be perfect; as long as it was cheap and there weren’t any weird Bates Motel shenanigans going on, that was fine with you. 

Pulling up to the motel, the first thing you note is how vacant it is. There’s only one other car in the parking lot, and you’re not sure if thats for the employee or another customer. The emptiness should alarm you that something must be amiss, but you’re too tired, too run down, finally out of adrenaline, to care much. You grab your bags, two stuffed to capacity, and your purse before hopping out of your car, locking it behind you. You try to peek in at through the shabby blinds of the first-most area, where the receptionist desk resides, but its hard with how the rain begins to pour down even harder. You can’t see much beyond the silhouette of a single person sitting behind the desk, and you can only hope that they don’t hit your head too much in pricing. 

You dart into the receptionist area, cold and wetted by the rain, your hair a mess, the cold instantly seeping through your clothes. You wipe your face a few times to clear the rain, setting your luggage down by the front door when you finally look up. You’re greeted by a single man behind the desk, who stood the moment you slammed the door behind you. He’s tall, his form slightly lanky by the way he curves in on himself. His skin is pale and his eyes are dark, rings circling them, a thick tattooed line across his nose, his black hair pulled back into a bun at the base of his scalp. 

His thin eyebrows dart up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t move to help you. Just keeps staring at the way rainwater clings to your lashes, the hollow of your throat with every shake breath you take from your run from the car, how you clutch your purse tighter under your arm. Something about him unnerves you, and you don’t know if its because you’re here all alone in the middle of the night with this silent stranger, or if its something deeper, something primal, that’s telling you to run. 

“Hello,” you greet first, taking a tentative step toward the front desk that the man stands behind. “Are any rooms available?” 

The man, Choso, his name tag reads, doesn’t say anything for a long while. Just continues to stare at you with this almost wide eyed look. He inhales deeply once, twice, licking his lips before he glances down at the sign in book in front of him. He picks up a pen in a lone cup, sliding it toward you with a nod of his head. 

“Yes, we have available rooms.” He says, clipped, short, before he takes a step back, digging at something under the desk. You frown, wondering if the rainwater’s made you stink already, smell of mold and mildew. But you shake it off, gripping your purse a little tighter under your arm as you step up until you’re right at the front desk to look down at the sign-in book in front of you. 

“How many?” Choso asks, suddenly right across from you, when you could’ve sworn that he had started to venture toward the back office. Your head whips in surprise, his dark, plum eyes staring right into yours. It takes you aback for a second, the intensity of his gaze, how it seems he hasn’t blinked since you stepped foot into the lobby. You let out a nervous little giggle, feeling a little delirious from your lack of sleep over the past week. 

As you stare at the dark haired man, he raises a single eyebrow in question, glancing down to the book in front of you. You realize he had asked you a question and shake your head, a tinge embarrassed at how you were surveying him so unabashedly. 

“How many what?” You ask with a cock of your head, twiddling with the pen in your hands. Should you sign now? Should you wait? Do you pay first? Gods, you wished he would speak more instead of just looking at you with that inquisitive look, his eyebrows drawn and his mouth tight. 

“How many will be staying in the room?” He clarifies, his gaze fixed on your eyes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the softness of your jaw. He takes you in, quietly, observationally, as if he were trying to memorize each and every line of your face. It makes you fidget where you stand, wonder if you should lie, say a friend is joining you, your husband, some lie that you’re not alone. 

But maybe you’re just being ridiculously paranoid after dealing with such a control freak for so goddamn long, that you’re wary of any and everybody. Chewing your lip for a second as you consider what you should tell the front desk worker, he takes in the silkiness of your mouth, your pink tongue that darts out to lick where your teeth had just dug into. He swallows thickly, inhaling once more when you flutter your eyes up to his own, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. 

“Just me,” you admit quietly, hope you’re not sealing your own death sentence, that you won’t end up with some shitty movie about your life of trusting the motel worker who eventually killed you. But instead of leering at you, of trying to advance from behind the desk, snatch you, Choso simply nods and gestures to the open book in front of you. 

“Please put your information down. Will you be paying with cash or card?” He asks smoothly, as he takes a few steps away from the desk to a little further where you can’t much see. You hear the jangle of keys and he emerges from the darkness that shadows the lobby holding up a key for you. You quickly sign your name in the book and put the date down, before you look up at the worker once more. 

“Cash. How much is a night’s stay?” You ask him, already starting to dig around in your purse for the money. 

“Forty per night.” He states, his voice low and quiet, almost drowned out by the pitter patter of rain against the roof of the building. You pause as you try to do the math in your head; this place is as cheap as you’re sure you’ll get, so you should stay here a little longer, right? At least a week, and you can scout the area out, find a new phone, look for some apartments to rent nearby, and you’ll only be spending about two-eighty for the time being, not including food. You can manage, you’re pretty sure. 

“I’ll just pay for the week.” You mumble, counting the cash in hand before sliding it over to Choso. His hands are thin, fingers long, the pale skin seemingly luminescent in the darkness of the room. He doesn’t count the cash after he picks it up, just slides all of the twenties into a single drawer. Only then does he slide the keys over to you, his finger lingering on the cool metal before he releases them, when you snatch them up. 

“You’re in Room 2. Enjoy your stay.” Choso says, his voice dropping into something low, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You nod to him in thanks, trying to scurry out of there as soon as possible, but you’re stopped when he’s suddenly beside you again. You jump back with a small yelp, your eyes big as you blink at him, acutely aware of the fact that he’s now blocking your path to the door. 

“My apologies for scaring you,” he says softly, nodding his head once. “I was just going to take your bags to your room for you.” He motions to your belongings that sit right beside the door, and you realize with a sigh that he wasn’t trying to trap you in the same space. You smile at him, tiny, before waving him off with a hand. 

“Oh, no, its okay. I’ve got it.” You reassure softly, going to pick up your bags when he steps in front of you again, a slight frown on his face. 

“I insist.” He says, voice firm as he picks up your bags in each hand. “It’s raining out, and you wouldn’t want to set these on the ground as you open the door.” 

Choso doesn’t take no for an answer after that, as he opens the door and waits for you to exit. You can only stand there in slight shock at his forwardness, wonder if it was a mistake to stop here and not just sleep in your car for the night. But you bite the bullet, too tired to put up much of a fight and lead him to your room, although you’re sure he doesn’t need much guidance. 

You unlock your door and turn around, ready to take your bags from him, but Choso slides his way into your room, easily and gracefully, as if you hadn’t been standing there at all. You can only sputter at him as he sets your bags down carefully at the foot of your bed, flicking your lamp on that spills a yellowed light into the room before he meets you back at the door. 

“Have a goodnight.” He says, finality lacing his tone, as he makes his way back to the office. You can only stand there in shock at his audacity, before you simply shake your head and walk into your room. You deadbolt the door that night, and put an extra door stopper you had carried with you, just to be safe. 

You collapse onto the too hard bed, spreading out, only able to kick your shoes off before the tiredness of the last week catches up to you. The rain lulls you into a sleep that’s more peaceful than you’ve had in a long time, with dreams of pale skin, violet eyes, and an aura that is all encompassing. 

…

The next day, you start early with getting your life back on track. You peel out of your still soggy clothes with a groan, hop in the shower and take your time getting ready. Your outfit of the day is simple, and you’re ready to go, when you realize that you don’t know jack shit about the town you’ve stopped in. But you quickly decide that asking Choso, as he seems to be the only soul around, is your best option for the time being. 

He’s still there, as if he never left the previous night. He’s already looking at you by the time you enter, like he heard you from the moment you first closed the door to your room. He cocks his head in question at you, as he stands from his seat to greet you. 

“You’ve been here all night?” You ask him, expecting there to have been a shift change. But Choso only nods once, his fingers curled on the desk beneath him as he knocks his knuckles against the dingy wood. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “My coworker is out sick at the moment.”

“Oh,” you frown, glancing around the bare space. “What happens if you have an emergency and have to leave?” Choso only shrugs at you. 

“There won’t be.” He says, his tone final, leaves no room for extra questions. You just glance at his hard stare, how he takes every piece of you in, inhales deep before letting out the air through his soft looking lips. 

“What can I help you with?” He asks when you stand there quietly for another few beats of silence. You perk up at the question, remembering why you even left your room in the first place. 

“A few things, actually.” You say, before rattling off all the places you need to go and find; a gas station, somewhere you can buy a new phone, a grocery or convenience store, clothing stores. Choso writes all the places down for you and their addresses on a piece of paper, his handwriting light and thin and cursive, a lot better than your chicken scratch, and you’re on your way after that. 

The gas station is, thankfully, not too far, and you’re able to get a full tank of gas before your car completely breaks down on you. There’s a convenience store right around the corner from there, and you do a bit of grocery shopping, stocking up on a lot of snacks and instant meals for when you don’t want to leave out of your motel room. 

From there, you spend the day shopping, a bit of a fuck you to your ex and all the money he’s been hoarding, despite telling you that he didn’t have enough to get you the nice things he would promise emptily to you. You don’t go crazy though, aware that the money is bound to run out, but that you’ll have a job and a place to stay soon enough to earn everything back. 

By the time you’re pulling back up to the motel, you take note of the diner just across the street. You were too tired to pay much mind to it the night before, but now, your stomach growls at the mere sight of it, aware that you hadn’t eaten much today besides a pack of noodles in the convenience store. You pull up in the spot right in front of your room, unloading your bags for the day, tucking in the new phone you had just purchased into your back pocket all the while. While it wasn’t the latest phone, it managed well enough. 

You’re finished loading up your room with your belongings, when you close and lock the door behind you, ready to step over to the dinner, when you catch a glimpse of Choso about to enter into the front office. He catches your eye and nods once to you in greeting, one foot in the door, when you get an impulsive idea you’re sure you’re going to regret later on down the road. 

“Hey,” you call out to him, making him pause in his movements to turn toward you. “Wanna join me for dinner?” His whole body freezes before his eyebrows turn down in question, his body shifting toward you as he comes the door to lean against it. 

“I thought you went to the convenience store?” Choso asks, glancing over to your car where your empty cup of noodles still sits on the dash in front of the passenger seat. You only shrug at him, fiddling with your fingernails as you take him in in the light of day. His clothes are baggy on his tall form, as he adorns a cream colored hoodie with a logo you don’t recognize on the front despite the heat of the day, a pair of black sweats, thick sneakers, and a baseball cap that shadows most of his face. Just looking at him makes sweat start to trickle down the back of your neck, or maybe its the way he seems to keep licking his lips long enough at the sight of you? 

You shake away the thought, stuffing your hands in the back pockets of your jean shorts as you nod your head over to the diner. 

“Yeah, I did.” You reply softly, turning your body to face his the same way he does to you. “Still doesn’t mean I feel like cooking, though.” You say cheekily, smiling at him all the while. But he doesn’t reciprocate the action, instead seemingly frowns more at you, as he shoves his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes glancing from you, the diner, to the chair he must always sit in behind the front desk. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I still have to man the front desk.” Choso says, his voice unsure, as he tilts his head at you. Your skin seemingly glistens in the softness of the setting sun, pinks and oranges casting a slight hue to your skin, to the veins in your neck, to the swell of your plump bottom lip that curves into a smile once more. 

“Be real, Choso.” You roll your eyes at him, saying his name for the first time since you’ve met, unaware of how the sound of it rolling off of your tongue physically pains him like no other.  “No one’s coming anytime soon. And if they do, we can get a seat near the window so you can watch the front door.” 

You’re not sure why you’re trying to persuade him to eat with you. You don’t even know the guy, just barely met him less than twenty-four hours ago. But its something about him that interests you as much as it unnerves you. Maybe its a piece of you that wants to better understand why he seems to call you into him like a siren enticing a man, as he simultaneously makes every ounce of hair on your body stand at attention. 

Choso just stands there for a while, his heavy lidded eyes so low as he rakes his gaze up and down your body. He seems to be contemplating his next words, makes you want to shrivel up on the inside, take back everything you’ve said to him in the last few minutes. 

“Why are you asking me out to dinner?” He finally asks after a while, his head tilted to the side just so. You shuffle on your feet, feeling suddenly so exposed, so wide open to why you really crave the presence of a man you barely know. 

“Because, I hate to admit this, but I would like some company.” You utter softly, a faint smile on your face as you start to bare yourself to this strange man, ever so slightly. “Can’t remember the last time I got to sit down with someone that actually could fucking stand to be around, and just eat. Plus, you seem lonely cooped up in here all day and night.” You tease him, winking once, as he laughs softly through his nose, just a simple gust of air. When he doesn’t say anything, you hold a hand up, backtracking. 

“You don’t have to join me though, its fine.” You tack on, body turning away from him as you get ready to haul ass with your tail tucked between your legs. You hadn’t made the first move with anyone in so long, so used to your ex always being so overbearing, taking without ever asking, considering your feelings. Used to every relationship you’ve ever had with anyone in your life slowly dissipating into nothing, so reaching out first has become foreign on your tongue like an undiscovered language. 

“No—no, I think I’d actually like that.” Choso says, stops you in your tracks when you turn to leave. Your face lights up instantly at the barest hint of his smile, your own cracking your face as you turn to him once more. The blue and red neon lights of the diner across the street make him look even paler in the setting sun’s light, cast an almost eerie glow to the darkness of his eyes, the soft slope of his nose. 

“Really?” You ask in disbelief before gesturing him to the diner across the street when he nods once. “Great. C’mon then.” 

You both walk in silence as you cross the street. Choso holds a hand out in front of you when you go to cross, unaware of a quickly speeding car. He stops you, gently, before placing a hand on your back to urge you forward when the roads are clear. Your face is warm at the feeling of his cold, large palm still placed on the expanse of your back, and try not to deflate when he pulls away to open the door for you. 

You’re seated instantly in the damn near empty diner, which isn’t much of a surprise to you. Your waitress is an older lady who looks a little warily at Choso before she turns to you, taking both of your orders down. She scurries away as soon as your order leaves your lips, and you fix Choso with a questioning look that he only shrugs at. You two sit in silence for a few beats, before your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“So,” you start as you fold your hands together on the table, resting your chest on them as you look at Choso from under your lashes. “What’s your story?”

He only cocks an eyebrow to you in question, as he leans back in his squeaky seat. He shifts again, arms folded in front of himself, as he twists his mouth this way and that. His eyes, shadowed by thick black lashes, take you in, his gaze slow, predatory. You shiver in your seat.

“What do you mean?” He asks after a while, his head tilted to the side. You shrug, sitting back when the waitress comes fluttering back to your table and sets your milkshake and burger and fries down in front of you, and Choso’s lone soda in front of him.

“You know,” you mutter around a fry, gaze on the table between you two, feeling as though it’s an entire world apart. Something about him feels so…out of reach, like he’s somehow floating above you by merely sitting in your presence, like you’ll always be his inferior. But the way he smiles so faintly at you, urging you to continue talking, yanks him down to sitting right in front of you; normal; human.

“Who are you?” You ask with a shrug as you pick up your burger. “Where did you come from? What are your parents like; do you have any siblings; how old are you; how’d you end up with a job in a town like this?”

Choso sits there for a long while, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You look at the soda in front of him that he still hasn’t taken a sip of, and he finally does at your look. Leans forward, wraps pale pink lips around the clear straw, suck just the tiniest bit. He licks the dribble of it from his bottom lip when he pulls away, and you look away guiltily when he clears his throat ever so softly.

“Those are a lot of questions.” Is all he says after a few beats of silence. You snort with a roll of your eyes, drinking your milkshake as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Question for a question?” You offer, but Choso only raises an eyebrow for further elaboration. “You ask me a question and I’ll answer, and in return I get to ask you a question that you’ll answer.”

At that, Choso seemingly considers your offer, but he ultimately shakes his head at you. You try not to deflate too visibly, your fries suddenly soggy in your mouth.

“I’ll answer your questions, but I only have one for you.” Choso says, his voice velvet under the rickety crooning from the old jukebox in the corner of the diner. You perk up at that, eyebrows raised in question as you nod to him, pulling your milkshake over to sip from.

“Go right ahead,” you nod to him, pushing your drink away as you fold your hands on the table once more to give him your full attention. Choso mirrors your position, his thin brows pulling down as he frowns at you, makes your heart begin to sink at just the sight.

“What are you running from?” He asks, his tone dropping as he leans in even closer to you. You freeze at that, heart suddenly in your throat as an image of your furious ex chasing you down the highway emerge in the forefront of your mind. You swallow thickly, the food in your belly suddenly souring at the thought.

With the corners of your mouth pulling down, do you push away your plate. Choso glances at it, but his gaze remains locked on you for the time being. You shift uncomfortably in your seat as you ponder your answer, try to figure out the best and simplest way to put it.

“Not so much of a what, really, as a who.” You start, settling back in your seat as you begin to fiddle with your hangnails. “My ex boyfriend was a piece of shit, plain and simple. Controlling; manipulative; insecure; jealous. I got tired of his bullshit and isolation, drained his account and ran for the hills.”

It feels good to admit, even if you’re technically incriminating yourself of theft. But you sigh, slumping into your seat as you snatch a fry from your plate, chewing a little too aggressively. But Choso’s deep chuckle pulls you out of your stupor of what you’ve done, and when you look to him, it’s the first time you’ve seen an actual grin on his face, white teeth on display and all.

“Admirable.” Choso states plainly, tipping his head to you. Before you can ask him to elaborate, he starts to rattle off what you soon realizes is answers to your previous questions.

“My name is Choso Kamo. I grew up in a lonely house with my father and four brothers, and when I became of age, I fled. I do, however, still regret leaving my little brother behind, but I thought it was best at that moment.” A melancholy kind of look crosses his face for a brief second, before he gazes back up to you, his hands splayed on the table in between you two.

“My father was an asshole, never knew my mother. Been on my own for a long while now, and I guess I never believed I could go much farther in life than an overnight job as a motel clerk.” Choso pauses there, and you both know that there’s still a lingering question that he has not answered yet. When he doesn’t seem to cough it up, do you ask once more.

“And your age?” You murmur around your straw, soft lips wrapped around warm plastic. Choso licks his own lips at the sight before he glances up to meet your eyes.

“I’ve been twenty-seven for a while now.” He answers after a beat too long, the response raising one too many red flags in your mind. But you don’t pry, only share your own information in return, even though he never asked.

“Do you have a partner?” You ask when the night runs late, and you’ve had two milkshakes now, and he’s still on that same soda from earlier. Does his mouth not run dry with all the talking you two have been doing? Choso only shakes his head, mouth pursed as he tucks a stray raven-black lock behind his ear.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone.” He murmurs, eyes lowered before they meet your own once more, his gaze shifted, his look predacious. “Is that question for your own personal sake, to know whether or not you should flirt with me?”

The question catches you off guard so much that you bark out a laugh. A few lingering patrons look over their shoulder at your loudness, and you feel your face begin to heat up in embarrassment. You cover your face with your hands, smiling, before you flip him the bird. You hear the softest chuckle emit from his thin mouth.

“Am I that obvious?” You question jokingly before running a hand down your face to settle into your lap. “No, I’m just curious. Didn’t know how you’d manage with a partner if you’re cooped up in that motel lobby twenty-four-seven.”

At that, Choso shrugs. He sinks back into his seat as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pockets, his joking demeanor diminishing second by second. His eyes get this glazed over look, the black line across his nose scrunching ever so slightly when he furrows his brows. His face becomes contemplative, and you wonder if you’ve unknowingly crossed a line. You reach out to take back your words, but Choso speaks before you can.

“It’s not a lifestyle everyone can easily adjust to.” He says softly, his eyes sharp, focused on the condensation that slides down the second milkshake you’ve acquired. His words feel packed with something deeper, something you’re not sure you’ll ever truly wrap your mind around. But you’d like to find out.

You go to ask him what he means, what this lifestyle entails, if you’d be able to adjust, to join him, but he stands before you can. Declares that he’s going to pay the tab, despite you trying to refuse. He steps off before you can, leaving you sitting there with a twisting feeling in your gut, your hands wringing in front of you.

Choso walks you to your doorstep afterwards. He’s gotten quiet since he paid for dinner, and you feel guilty for getting so much while he only had a barely sipped on soda.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say slowly, your door ajar as you pull your key out, gaze low on his face, around his soft mouth. “I needed that.”

You don’t specify what you mean, but he seems to understand either way. Choso nods at you, hands shoved in his pockets as he begins to back away.

“Anytime.” He promises, never turning his back until you nod at him in return. You step into your room, pausing when he calls your name once. You look over your shoulder, hopeful of—of something more, hopeful for the night to not end just yet.

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Is all Choso says. You deflate ever so slightly before you nod once more, scurrying into your room, embarrassed of the hope that was surely bleeding into your eyes.

You go through the motions of getting unready from the day, stepping in the shower, putting on the new pajamas you brought from the store today. You turn on the television, mindlessly watch some new alien sci-fi show on one of the few channels available in the motel rooms.

When that gets boring, do you finally turn off the lamp, turn down the tv, and go to lay in bed. It’s squeaky and hard and uncomfortable, but it’s the best you can get at the moment, you suppose. You just wished these rooms had beds that had just a bit more of a spring to them.

You pause. An idea pops into your head that might be a terrible one, but you’ve been much bolder since you liquified your exes account and ran off with everything in tow. So you roll over on your side until you can grasp the lone telephone on the nightstand by the bed, dialing the number to the front desk. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?” Choso’s voice is pure sin over the phone, a low kind of rasp that makes impure thoughts run through your head. You squeeze your eyes shut when he calls out your name, wonder how he knew it was you just from your breathing.

“I need you.” You say simply, voice breathy, soft. Choso doesn’t respond for a long while, and before you know it, he hangs up. You don’t have time to feel much embarrassment or frustration when there’s a knock on your door, one that you quickly answer.

He stands there, his stature unnervingly still, as if he waits for a simple command to bleed from your lips. You only gesture him in, arms wrapped around your body as you realize your state of undress, clad in only a knee length nightgown, damn near see through.

Choso’s thick lashes flutter when you unwrap your arms from yourself, closing the door roughly behind him with a kick of his thick boot. You instead place your arms around his neck, gently, wordlessly. His skin is cold against the warmth of your own, makes goosebumps raise along the flesh.

His gaze is unending, the violet in his eyes swirling, fighting against devouring you. He wraps his arms around your waist until your front is pressed directly against his, makes a breath get caught in your throat at the proximity, the eye contact, the shift in the atmosphere around you.

“Kiss me.” You demand, softly, gently, as if the words seal a fate you’ll never be able to return from. And maybe it’s too soon to be kissing other people after such a messy breakup, when you’re still on the run, still in hiding from your ex that wants everything about you back into his wicked claws.

But you can’t be damned to think much about that when Choso lowers his lips to yours, slow, achingly slow. His eyes flutter close only when the soft skin of his lips have skimmed yours, a groan so deep emitting from his chest that it rattles your rib cage where it presses against him. He holds you to him so tightly that you couldn’t escape if you tried, and you don’t think you ever want to leave his embrace, not when he kisses you like this.

All encompassing. Overwhelming. Gentle. Sweet. Too much. Not nearly enough for how much you crave him. There’s an allure to his mouth on yours, makes something primal in you scream, and you’re not sure what message it’s trying to send.

Flee. Stay. Make a home within the confines of his skin. Run for your life. Pull him close. Protect your flesh. Preserve your heart. Meld with him. Become one. Flee. Flee. Flee.

But you find yourself pulling him closer, thighs spreading ever so slightly to allow him to slot his knee between yours. His teeth graze the plumpness of your lips, his hands dip down to cup the globes of your ass, his tongue darting out to taste the whine from your throat.

“Choso,” you whimper out when his knee presses against you just right, your voice breathy. That seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s been put in, making him pull away from you entirely too soon.

Choso takes a step back, untangling himself from you. You’re cold now without him, your nipples hardening at the sudden frigidity that floods the room, the way his face hardens. You reach for him, but Choso only takes another step back and another until his back is against the door. He has a wild look in his eye, cups his hand to his mouth as if in shock at the act of kissing you. Your chest squeezes a little more than you’d like at the subtle regret that lingers on the creases of his mouth. 

“I have to go.” Choso announces suddenly, his face wild, his hands flexing and stretching with every passing second. You step to him, go to ask if he’s okay, if he’s feeling unwell, but he flees from your room before you can. The only thing he leaves in his absence is the crisp bite of the wind when he slams your door shut.

…

You go two days without seeing much of Choso, too busy holed up inside of your room, sulking. You try to look for jobs and apartments that are in your budget all the while as a means to distract yourself from the hurt that still lingers in your chest. 

What had you done wrong? Did he think you were moving too fast, as you had just admitted to running from your ex? Did he fear that he was simply a rebound? 

So many questions wrack your brain as the day bleeds into night, the air unusually cold for it to still be summer. You can only wrap yourself in the thin blanket tucked into your bed, refusing to go to Choso to ask for something extra, something thicker, afraid of how he might look at you. If he might have that same face that he did after he kissed you. The thought makes your throat tighten up in shame, and you dig yourself deeper into the cocoon of your bed. 

You start to doze off after a while, eyelids heavy from scrolling nonstop in your search for a new life, when theres a sudden slam of a car door. It doesn’t bother you much, your eyes briefly opening before they flutter shut once more. Its not until you hear the familiar grating voice of your ex that your eyes fly open, your heart suddenly sinking into the abyss of your belly. 

How? How could he have found you? After you liquified all of the money at some random ATM in a convenience store five towns over, you were sure that there was no trace of you. So how had he caught up to you?

There’s a yell of your name first. You lay as still as humanly possible, despite the fact it feels as though your heart may beat out of your chest, may bulldoze right through your ribcage and roll and splatter on the dirty motel floor beneath you. You barely breathe, a hand cupped over your mouth as if he could hear your very breath if you shuddered too loudly. 

“Cmon, babe!” Your ex’s screeching voice cracks almost maniacally. “I just wanna talk. I’ll forgive you for stealing from me, if you just come back home with me.” 

His voice edges closer. You don’t think he knows which room you’re in, so he tries every room he sees. There are eight, and you’re in the second one. It won’t take him long to realize that the other rooms are empty, save for one more, and you’re sure he’s already spotted your car parked between rooms two and three. Fuck. 

You try not to screech when theres a sudden banging on your door. He calls your name again, loud and unhinged, his voice nearing something that makes primal fear start to curl into your spine, make your body stiff with panic and fear that you’ve been caught, captured, cornered. 

“Just fucking come out already!” He yells, kicking the door so hard you fear that it’ll come flying right off of its hinges. You’re tempted to get up, to just appease him as you’ve always done, when theres suddenly a deeper, much more controlled voice that rings out. 

Choso. Fuck, you don’t want him to get caught in your mess. You knew your ex was crazy, most likely carrying a weapon in order to scare you into going back with him. You couldn’t let Choso get caught up in your bullshit trying to play savior. 

So you spring up from bed as fast as you can, steps as silent as you can manage them, as you peek out from the corner of the dingy curtains, ready to signal Choso to just back off. But instead, you watch the pale man grab your ex by his nape, his nails suddenly much longer than you remember them being, as he begins to drag him around the motel, beyond the front desk. You freeze, mind reeling with a thousand possibilities of what Choso could be doing, what kind of strength he must have to haul your ex off without so much as a single hair out of place. 

You find yourself jerking awake from your own imagination of the horrors your ex might bring upon Choso, despite being the one scuffed at the current moment. You couldn’t put a thing past him. So you throw on your flip flops by the door and a stray jacket, your legs instantly getting goosebumps from your exposed nightgown when you swing open your door. 

You hiss out your exes name first, and then Choso’s, arms wrapped around yourself as you try to bite back a shiver. You don’t see either one of them, and you’re sure that Choso must have dragged your ex to behind the motel. You only hope that the dark haired man isn’t injured too badly. 

You try to creep as quietly as you could around the building, fearing the sight that you might come across, the fight that is bound to have been happening at the current moment. But when you turn the corner, you freeze. Every hair on your body stands at attention, your gut screaming at you that you’re in danger, that you must be prey and that you have to flee to save yourself lest you be forgotten in the belly of the beast that stands in front of you. 

There, Choso holds your ex up by his shoulders, pinning him to the wall of the back of the motel, his mouth on his neck. Choso’s eyes are closed in bliss, as your exes eyes roll into the back of his head, a soundless scream gasping from his mouth as he tries to put up a fight against Choso, his legs kicking uselessly. 

You watch as the life drains from his face, as the tanned skin of his cheeks suddenly becomes devoid of color, his eyes blank, white and lifeless, his body limp. Choso drops him without further preamble, his body falling into a heap on the dirty concrete, his bones crunching from the force of it. At the sound, you can’t help the scream that tumbles from your mouth, instantly alerting Choso of your presence. 

His head whips over to your direction and the only word that comes to mind is predator. His canines are elongated, reach past his bottom lip, his mouth stained in red drips that slither down the curve of his throat. Rivulets of it stain the white of his hoodie, the one he wore to dinner with you the other day, makes you think about how that could’ve been your crimson that creates patterns on the previously untainted material. 

“Don’t be scared,” Choso whispers after a second, holding a hand to you in surrender, his nails curved and yellowed and long. The sight shakes you, makes you take a step back and then another until you’re bolting around the building. You trip over your own feet without ever falling, breath heavy in your chest as you make your way to your room, looking over your shoulder all the while. You don’t see Choso, and you fear that when you turn around, he’ll be there. 

You make it to your room, hands shaking as you grapple with the slipper doorknob, cursing at yourself for taking so fucking long when there was a predator right behind you, lurking, somewhere in the shadows. You rip open the door after what feels like hours, damn near take it off of its hinges, pressing your back to it when you slam it shut. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, gather your nerves as you try to figure out what your next move should be. 

“I’m sorry that you had to witness that.” Choso says suddenly, making a scream rip violently from your throat as you shake all over, eyes wide. He’s in your room, somehow, even though you didn’t see him behind you and he couldn’t have outran you when you took off running and the fucking door was locked behind you. 

“How the fuck did you get in here if I didn’t invite you?” You ask him shakily, body frozen in pure panic against the door, as you blink at him from where he sits on your bed. The bottom half of his face is still bloody, his pale pink lips still painted vermillion, his fangs still resting heavily on his bottom lip. Choso has the nerve to look like a kicked puppy left out in the rain, pathetic and small, despite the fact that you just witnessed him rip away a mans life through a vein in his throat. 

“I own the building, so I technically don’t need permission to enter any of the rooms here,” he mutters, his lip pouted ever so slightly as he looks down at his hands. His nails seem to have retracted, but there’s still faint hints of blood from where it dribbled down your exes open neck, pooled into the cracks and crevices of Choso’s palms. The thought makes a shiver wrack up your spine as you inhale heavily. You try to gather your words, understand what’s going on in front of you, what you just witnessed, what dreams and imaginations from your childhood have actually come to life. 

“So you’re a vampire.” You state more than ask, your words slow, soft, unsure despite the fact that Choso’ fangs have only just now started to slowly retract back into his bloodied mouth. He nods once, his hands folded neatly in his lap as he curls over himself while sitting on your unmade bed, still warm from when you laid in it. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long while as you stand against the door still, body tight and ready to spring into action at any given moment. But Choso just sighs heavily, before he lays back on your bed, his head cushioned by the pillow you just laid on, his hands folded over his stomach. He takes in a deep inhale at the scent that has covered your sheets, and in the darkness of your room, does the pale moonlight make the crimson staining his mouth look like the smear from a kiss from a lover. 

You tiptoe over to him slowly, careful, cautiously until you stand over the bed. Choso looks down at you without moving, your breaths steady, a realization that he hasn’t taken a single breath since you’ve met him, save for the inhales of your scent when you linger close. He holds a hand out after a while, in invitation to you, his nails short, his palms still splattered with blood. Your exes blood. 

You take his hand. Crawl into bed beside him, rest your head on his shoulder and cry more than the moment you realized you were in a shitty, lonely, toxic relationship. He lets you soak his hoodie, his neck, his cold, lifeless neck, and holds you tight to him, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“I hated him,” you confess. “I didn’t feel bad seeing the life drain from him. I was just scared to look someone so bloodthirsty in the eye.”

“I would never hurt you.” Choso says so quickly, his words sure, his voice leveled. 

You’re not sure what to say to his confession, so instead, you kiss him. Taste the coppery tang of blood that stains his mouth, ruins your own. Fit your tongue along the silkiness of his own wet muscle, glide over the smoothness of his gums, goad his fangs to slide out, to join you. Choso moans against your mouth, pulling you closer until you crawl on top of him, his hands linked at the base of your spine before the other sneaks up to hold your skull in large, cold, bloodied hands. 

“Why did you leave me the other day?” You ask him against his mouth, panting, feel the throb between your legs at the way you smear the blood on his mouth everywhere; the angle of his cheek, the tip of his nose, his chin, his jaw. Choso just huffs softly, bringing you back down to his mouth to lick at the inside of your hot cavern, his other hand sliding down to rub over the roundness of your ass, exposed by your hiked up nightgown, jacket thrown away somewhere. 

“I was scared of losing control,” he murmurs, nipping at you with dulled teeth. “Scared that seeing you, tasting you, would make my fangs come out, terrify you.” You pout against him, hips starting a slow grind against his pelvis where you feel the swelling of his cock start to come to life. You gasp against him when he holds you still, angle his hips up until they meet yours through your thin material. 

“Are you scared?” Choso asks, fisting a chunk of your hair in his hands, baring your throat to him, his teeth suddenly sharp as they skim your smooth flesh. Your heart jumps immediately to your throat, in fear, anticipation, lust, worry, desire. 

“Or are you turned on at the sight of your exes blood covering the both of us?” He angles your head back down with his words, puts the crime that he just committed on full display, a tinge of worry lighting the darkness of his eyes. But instead you swallow, cunt starting to throb at the sight, at the lust that bleeds from his very being into you, at the nudge of his mushroomed tip pressing right where you need it most. 

“Both.” 

You fall into each other after that, Choso’s movements entirely too fast for you to keep up with. It makes you dizzy in which the speed that he moves; you’re on your back and he’s on top of you; your shoes are ripped off; his shirt; your gown; his pants; your panties; your hands are choked in his grip above your head; his teeth graze your nipple. 

You feel like you have whiplash, as you cry out at the coldness of his mouth suddenly on your skin, your back arching off of the bed. You want to touch him, reach for him, feel the silkiness of his hair in your grasp, as you fight against his hands. But Choso doesn’t let up, takes his time with licking slowly around your areola until your nipple perts up, hard and stiff. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue, suddenly forked, suddenly warm, suddenly too much. 

He looks up at you through his fringe, through black lashes as he widens his mouth over your breast, his fangs bared, scraping the fat of your tit without ever breaking the skin. You cry out in a mixture of pleasure, maybe pain, your senses confused of all of the sensations at once. He sneaks a hand down between your legs, parts them with the simplest nudge. You let him in, thighs spread wide around him, open, inviting. 

Choso slides down your body slowly, finally releasing your hands that instantly tangle in his hair, releasing his twin buns from their coiled up embrace. You push his head exactly where you want it to be, and he follows, good, dutiful. 

Positioning your legs over his shoulders, Choso nibbles at your inner thighs, close to where you want him to be without ever getting there. He opens his mouth wide again, and you don’t expect the bite that comes, that makes you yelp and jump, your leg kicking out in shock. The sight is pure erotica, as Choso looks up at you from under his lashes, his mouth red and pulled tight around your thigh, blood leaking from the wound he drinks upon, his lids heavy, as he gulps down the taste of you. When he pulls his fangs out, its with a moan so filthy, you can hear your hole squelching from how wet you’ve become. 

“You want to become my meals? Would you do that for me?” Choso asks, his voice raspy, a husk that makes your hips gently nudge against his face, but he ignores the crying of your cunt instead for the tears that leak down the softness of your cheeks. 

“Yeah,” you agree mindlessly, pushing his head once more in the direction that you need it to be in. Choso only rests his head against your thigh that still bleeds, lapping softly at the still open wound with low, heavy eyes that promise a life of ruin for you. 

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling when you pout, offer your cunt up to him once more. He takes the bait, finally, and kisses your clit with bloodied lips. It creates a lewd, wet smacking sound, makes your thighs jerk in pleasure, your eyes rolling from just the simplest of contacts. 

With how much he’s been teasing you, you don’t expect for him to eat you out in a way that is anything but slow, torturous. But you guess Choso has been wanting to taste you just as badly as you needed his mouth on you. He dives in almost hungrily, sucking at your clit until it borders on painful, before he soothes it over with licks of his tongue. He holds the bottom of your stomach with his palm, the other sliding two thick fingers inside at the same time. Its a painful stretch, makes you whine and pull at his hair, and he matches your frustration with another bite on the juncture of your hip and thigh, making you cry out. 

He finds his place back between your legs, his mouth now dripping with your slick, with your blood, with his spit. Creates a messy harmony of sounds between your legs as he fucks his fingers inside of you, scissoring them until your soft wall give in to his stretching, his tongue lapping at your swelling clit all the while. 

When he bites you again, you cum with a cry, unexpected and loud, your lower body shaking so violently that he has to hold you down with both hands. His tongue never stop licking at your clit, nibbles on it with too sharp teeth when you pull his hair, making you whine at him. Choso only laughs under his breath before he pulls away, not without another lick of the blood that dribbles down your sides in thin, dark rivulets. 

Choso stands on his knees before you on the bed, shredding off his own boxers with his nails that quickly slide out before they find their place in his nail beds again. His cock springs out, thick and pale, veins forking along the shaft, his pubes dark and curly at his base. His tip drools with precum, connects to your skin, and you want to taste it as badly as he tasted you, but Choso has other plans. 

He uses that vampiric speed once more, and you find yourself seated in his lap as you face him, his legs crossed under you, yours wrapped around his narrow waist. You’re eye to eye with him, find a reflection of your face in the darkness of his eyes, your blood tainting his mouth. You kiss him, let him raise you up until your cunt nudges against his tip, let him drop you on his fat length torturously slow until you’re seated against him. 

“So full,” you whisper, a gasp escaping you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him in so close that your bodies begin to meld together. Choso hisses when you clamp around him, fits his teeth against your neck without ever biting. 

“Tease,” you murmur, starting to lift yourself as much as you can, feel the achingly pleasureful slide of his cock against your greedy walls. You bring him to you, bare his neck to your dulled teeth and bite with such a force that it causes the vampire to laugh. 

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” Choso mutters, before he picks you up again before dropping you back down onto his cock. You let go of him to gasp, to moan out your pleasures, and he barely lets you get a word out before he picks up the pace. 

Your ass slaps against his muscled thighs, his nails digging into your soft flesh until you bleed, and you meet him as much as you can. Scratch and bite and claw at him until black blood bleeds from his wounds, until he growls and bites and scratches in return, until red mingles with inky gore. 

He reaches a hand between the two of you, nails retracted once more so that he can thumb at your fat clit, circle it until you start to shake and spasm on his cock. Choso lets you moan against his mouth, lets you bite at his bottom lip until it bleeds, lets you whine against him and choke his cock until you’re bursting like a dam. 

“There you go, just like that, angel.” Choso says, his voice soft as satin, his cock bruising your insides so good you can’t help the tears that escape the corners of your eyes. He looks so pretty staring up at you in his lap, still bouncing you on his cock, covered in blood and your cum and pure adoration. 

When he cums inside of you, he pauses, his mouth mashed against yours, a grunt heavy on his soft, soaked lips. Choso squeezes you to him, pulling on your bottom lip with sharp fangs until you bleed, to which he quickly laps up with a greedy tongue. You chase it, chase the taste of copper and slick and spit until it coats your tongue heavy and thick. You moan at the feeling of him spreading inside of you, covering every inch of you, his mouth still lapping at whatever he can reach. 

You sit in his lap like that, his cum spilling from your parted lips, your blood mingling on your chin with his own, his cock still seated inside of you, kicking with every clench of your cunt around him. You try to catch your breath, watch how his own chest doesn’t rise and fall as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, admiring you in your post orgasm glow. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you not breathing.” You admit softly out of nowhere, making Choso chuckle under his breath. 

“But you can get used to the black blood and feeding on humans to survive?” He asks against your breast as he pillows his cheek against it. You hold him to you, your own face buried in the softness of his hair, your cheek smushed against him. 

“Only if you feed off of me, and shitty men.” You counter cheekily, not expecting him to actually laugh, loud and hardy, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible. 

“Agreed.” He says softly, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your face. 

thank you all so much for reading! kind comments/likes/reblogs are so greatly appreciated!

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil: Chapter 3

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: idk what it is guys, but I kind of hate this chapter. I feel like I didn’t hit the nail on the head this time but instead hit someone in the face. garbage writing aside, I hope you enjoy x :,)

Word Count: 2.186k

Your new apartment isn’t much of an upgrade, but it’s still nice, and you’re confident you’ll be able to turn it into your own.

After his drunken confession in the car, Roman had cried, thrown up in the toilet, and promptly passed out on the couch. You think it’s best you let him sleep. He’s exhausted himself like a toddler unaware of their body.

You sit cross legged on the armchair adjacent to the couch, leaving you able to keep an eye on Roman. Sure, he was an asshole, but he’d had way too much to drink and you didn’t want him to hurt himself.

The only part of getting a new apartment that miffed you was the fact that Logan had made sure it was a single bedroom. When you’d asked him about it, he’d given you some bullshit about how you had to keep up appearances. You know it’s about the money, but you find it pointless to say so.

You decide that since you have to stay up to make sure Roman doesn’t kill himself in his drunken stupor, you’ll start on the paperwork for Connor’s lawsuit. If he really wants to waste your time, like Roman had suggested, he’d found the perfect way to do it. You begin drafting, Roman tossing and turning.

As you begin to fill out the same forms you had many times before, your mind floats elsewhere. What Roman had said in the car had admittedly made your heart flutter. The idea that there could actually be something between you two was something, to your dismay, that you wanted to explore. But because he was so damn drunk, you can’t take anything he said seriously. You doubt he’ll even remember anything when he wakes up.

He keeps shifting in his sleep, troubled, and from your vantage point you can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

You set aside your laptop and find a clean towelette in the kitchen. You get some ice from the fridge, chill some water, and dunk the rag into it before bringing it back to the living room.

Perching on the edge of the sofa, you gently coax Roman onto his back and drape the cool rag across his forehead after gently pushing his hair out of the way. He visibly relaxes, lips parting in a sigh.

Your heart aches a little, staring down at him. In another world, this might have worked.

But you have to stay in your current reality. And the lawsuit wouldn’t draft itself.

You don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up the next morning. Your laptop still sits on your lap, and the stiffness in your joints is searing. Roman’s not there anymore. You don’t think he’s even in the apartment. So much for you staying to take care of him.

You find your phone on the floor. No messages from Roman, and you know the apartment is empty now. You sigh, feeling a bit dumb.

There is, however, an obscene amount of text messages from Connor. You deign not to respond, for your own mental health. Apart from Connor making you want to chuck your phone into the Hudson, there’s a message you actually find a little endearing.

At the dinner you’d asked Shiv to give your number to Greg so you two could sort things out for when you had to go to Norway.

xxx-xxx-xxxx; Unknown

Y/N,

Congratulations on your engagement, you will make a beautiful bride! I know we have some things to figure out, so I’d like to take you out for a friendly dinner. Please forward my congratulations to Roman. He has me blocked on everything.

Gregory Hirsch

You type out a response, biting back a laugh. You both agree to a casual dinner in a few days time- your treat, you insisted.

You mute Connor, who’s continued to spam you, and scroll through your emails when Kendall gives you a call. You pick up, and he asks, “Is bribery a felony?”

“Yeah, but it depends.”

“So. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically…”

“A man owns a large conglomerate that earns him millions. A certain politician runs a campaign that, if they were to come into power, would destroy said company from inside out because of some, er, under the table acquisitions…”

“A monopoly?”

“That’s the word. This person can’t come into power, that’d ruin things. But how do you get someone to lose that’s statistically projected to win?”

“What connections does Logan fucking have?” you hiss.

“Not on here.” Kendall sighs. “Is Roman with you? He won’t pick up his phone.”

“He got completely blackout drunk last night and passed out on the couch. I don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll turn up. Don’t worry. Board meeting in two days, okay?” He hangs up. You don’t dislike Kendall at all, he just has his… own way with words.

You’re pretty sure you can get away with working from home today. You’ll have your assistant fax whatever crosses your desk while you rot on the couch.

She does. The pictures Connor promised come through, and you thumb through them absentmindedly. Some rings, a Rolex, a jade bracelet, more expensive bullshit you don’t think anyone needs. You’ll tally the prices, inflate for ‘emotional damage’ and your time, and serve the hotel.

Your assistant texts you something about Connor bitching about the jade bracelet and how it’s one of a kind and you need to get it back. You make a note to get her a fancy gift for putting up with this bullshit.

You’re happy to have a calm day to yourself. You lounge around on the couch, idly doing some work. You hear a key moving around in the lock before Roman shoulders the door open.

He falters when he sees you.

“Uh, I’m home.”

You look up at him blankly.

“What? What’s with that face?”

You sigh and turn back to your computer.

“Hey,” he whines. “What’d I do?”

“You got drunk, fell asleep on the couch, then got up and left in the early morning without telling anyone where you went.”

He kicks his shoes off by the door then comes over and flops down next to you. “I’m here now.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t like this side of you. You’re making me feel guilty.”

“Maybe you’re feeling guilty because you did something wrong.”

“I literally remember nothing from last night. I woke up early and went to the gym. That’s it.”

“Kendall’s been trying to contact you.”

“Yeah. Board meeting.” He props his feet up into your lap. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

“Us.”

You sigh and set your laptop on the coffee table.

“I know I’m a jerk. And I know I was a dick the day we met. And the day after that. And this morning.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. “So I thought I’d atone for my sins and get you something.” He shifts, replacing his feet with his head and instead letting his legs stretch out on the couch. With one hand, he takes yours and sets it on his chest, and uses the other one to pop the box open.

You can swear you’ve seen that ring in your dreams before. It’s gorgeous- perfect, even. And it’s the right size.

“Roman,” is all you can say.

“Give me your left hand.”

You do, and he slips the ring onto your left hand’s ring finger. He inspects it, albeit lopsidedly from his vantage point tucked up in your lap.

“Are you sure you remember nothing from yesterday?” you ask quietly, your other hand still perched on his chest.

“Not a lick. Difficult day.” He shifts his gaze to meet yours. “I think, despite everything, we can be friends.”

Friends.

“Yeah.” You pause. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“It’s the only thing I know how to do. Throw money at things.”

☾𖤓

The sting of Roman’s words stay with you for the next few mornings, then when you’re getting ready for the board meeting. You don’t really know why you’re disappointed. What were you expecting? Why were you expecting anything in the first place?

He’d left for Waystar much earlier than you did. There’s a weird sort of tension between you now, even after your conversation. You’re wearing the ring. You can’t bring yourself to take it off.

You finish getting ready and find yourself in the harsh lighting at Waystar. You close your eyes in the elevator, the fluorescent lighting pissing you off more than usual.

“Hey, everything alright?” Greg Hirsch nudges you gently as the elevator lurches.

“Oh, hey!” You try to snap yourself out of it, but you can’t seem to get rid of the strain in your eyes. “Yeah. Fine.”

“I know things get pretty stressful. Especially in the position you’re in. Things get quite difficult.” He glances down at you. “Um, that sounded like a threat. Which it wasn’t. I’m on your side, to be clear.”

You chuckle. “I appreciate it, Greg.” You talk about nothing as he walks you to the conference room, and he gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder before you step in. Kendall looks like he’s about to shit himself, Roman’s face down on the table, and the few others that are there are concerned with themselves. Kendall gives you a stiff nod, his leg bouncing up and down.

“Forget how to breathe?” you ask him, trying to lighten the mood. He ignores you and keeps himself locked in his self-imposed hell. Roman sits up at the sound of your voice, pulling out your chair for you. As you settle in, the room begins to fill.

Logan Roy is late.

When he actually does decide to grace the room with his presence, it’s twenty minutes past the meeting start time. Kendall hasn’t gotten any calmer, and Roman’s chewing on his cheek. He leans towards you and whispers, “What if he knows?”

“If he knew, he’d have all our asses on the curb.” Even you’re beginning to get restless. “Does he always do this?”

“He’s always late, but never…” He’s hushed by his father hobbling into the conference room on a cane. The brothers exchange a glance you could never begin to understand, and Kendall gets to his feet.

“Sit, I’m fine,” Logan rasps. Kendall reluctantly obeys. “Don’t mind me, folks. I had an… accident on the way.”

Roman throws you a look that says what the fuck? and drags a hand over his jaw.

Thankfully, that’s all that Kendall needs. “You’re late.”

Logan scoffs. “What’re you going to do, fire me?”

Kendall swallows. “Just extending you the same courtesy that you would me.”

Frank clears his throat, and Kendall steels himself.

“I’m calling a vote of no confidence,” he blurts.

“Are you?”

“I am.”

Father and son stare at each other from different ends of the table. “You’re not.”

“That’s, uh, not how this works,” Kendall continues. “We vote in private. Then the verdict speaks for itself.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Logan insists. “And I know how fucking corporate politics work.” His gaze sears over everyone gathered. “Did we know about this?”

He does another sweep of the room before his eyes land on you. You give a minute shake of your head.

Suddenly, he slams his hands on the table. “Fucking go on, then. Who wants me gone?”

The room is silent. You can feel your stomach churning. Roman sits tense next to you, barely moving- barely breathing.

“Let’s, uh, put it to a vote, then.” Kendall shakily gets to his feet. “All those in favor of ejecting Logan Roy from position as CEO of Waystar?” He’s the first to raise his hand, and you raise yours not long after. Three partners follow your lead. You turn to Roman.

His hands are tucked firmly under his arms. He stares blankly at the ground, seemingly dazed. You can see the emotions warring in his eyes. But you have no sympathy.

You begin to bristle, and Kendall lets out a strangled breath.

“A tie,” Kendall says deflatedly.

“I have two votes,” Logan practically shouts. “I’m going to ruin you,” he spits at Kendall. You give Roman a nasty look then push yourself to your feet.

“It’s not a tie. Nor did you win,” you begin, raising your voice as you go. “You are the subject of this vote. You are legally not allowed in this room, Mr. Roy. Any vote you cast is regarded as null and void. As your lawyer, I advise you to take your things and leave.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “I did not get a degree from Harvard Law for you to so blatantly disrespect it to my face. Your time here is over. Get out before I call the police and have them escort you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmurs lowly.

“Really? Perhaps I will when we go to trial. You have quite a few hefty criminal charges hanging above your head, Mr. Roy. I’d hate to see them fall.”

[redheadspark]

Joseph Quinn 11

A/N - I love this! Thanks for requesting this, friend!

On The Line

Summary - Being Joe's oldest friend also means you have to wonder if it's just a friendship.

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“You look cute when you blush, you know that?”

Your friend and secret crush, actor Joe Quinn, looked up from his phone as you grinned next to him in your chair.  The flushness on his cheeks was evident, along with his big brown eyes that were locked with yours.  You giggled, noting how you almost caught him in an act when he was merely scrolling through his phone.  

“I wasn’t blushing!  It was…hot out,” he explained as you chuckled and pointed out the window behind the pair of you.

“It is literally snowing outside as we speak, are you joking?” You asked, Joe looking out the window to see the fat snowflake hitting the wall and cascading down to the ground.  He looked back at you with a raised brow.

“Well, it was warm in my car when I came here, so back off,” he replied lightly, you laughing at his antics.  You leaned over to brush your shoulder with his own, again getting his attention as you spoke, “So…anyone in your love life that I should know about?”

“Not at all,” He smoothly replied, but you could hear the undone of his voice that he was fully not telling the truth.  Of course, he wouldn’t tell you about his crush, much to your dismay since you were trying to figure out your feelings for your friend.  For how many years you two have known each other, long before Joseph became popular as an actor thanks to Stranger Things.  You and Jose grew up together in school, being good friends and hanging onto the friendship through thick and thin.  But of course, there were always times when you thought the line of friendship would blur into romance.  Joe was a great guy, not a bad bone in his body with a shocked sense of humor and a humbled nature about his career and where he wanted to go.  

He never pushed you away when his career was taking off, though some of his other friendships blew off in the wind.  Joe held onto yours tight, talking to you constantly on the phone and hanging out together when he had downtime.  You knew he was busy as hell, much more so when Stranger Things made him into a sensation.  He would call you to either chat up, vent or simply grow deeper in your friendship together.  And of course, being the great friend that you were, you would pick up the phone every time.  Grabbing dinner with him when he needed an escape, joining him on a quick weekend getaway when he needed to decompress from his stressful schedule.

You were simply being a friend, but the blogs and gossip columns were thinking otherwise. 

Most of what they were saying was in fact false and harsh, not to mention the pictures the paparazzi would take when you two were out and about together. It was hard to read at times and simply nearly impossible to swallow down, and no matter how many times Joe would reassure you that they never bothered him, it did to you.  Maybe because you were still in denial about your feelings for him, never seeing it as a possibility in the future of your two being an item together.  Plus you’ve only heard horror stories of people dating actors and stars, most of the relationships burning to the ground and not lasting longer than a few months.  The last thing you wanted to do was to jeopardize the friendship you two have had for over a decade.  

But how long were you going to be in denial?

“Alright, if you don’t feel like telling me then, and here I thought we were close…” You replied in a light tease as Joe chuckled and chucked his phone on the couch.  He eyed him, seeing you give him the mocked cold shoulder.

“We are, trust me.  You’re one of the closest friends I have,” he rescued you, pausing for a brief moment before he spoke again, “I’d rather iron it out on my own before telling you since your opinion on who I date is important to me,”

You just smiled and nodded your head, “Fine, fine. Keep your crush to yourself then.  But whoever they are, they’re lucky.”

As you walked off to retrieve your book, Joe was watching you with a small smile on his lips.  You had no idea he was cooking up a plan to ask you on a date, to leave his own heart on the line for you.  

The End.

January Prompt Session

[srhunt]

Resident Evil 4: Who is the Merchant?

One of my favorite characters in Resident Evil 4 is the Merchant. From his shady design to him asking “what’re ya buyin?”, he’s just a fun and interesting character. He’s not very fleshed out, we hardly know anything about him. But seeing that blue/purple flame is always a comfort knowing that the Merchant will offer me a safe space to catch my breath.

As with any character shrouded in mystery, lots of people like to theorize about who the Merchant is. Some of these theories are better than others, so I wanna do a quick speed run of a few I’ve heard and then offer my own.

He’s Luis’ Grandfather: Probably the most outlandish one I’ve heard. No matter which version of RE4 you look at, both state that Luis’ grandfather is dead. Unless y’all are suggesting that he’s the ghost of Luis’ grandfather which would explain how he moves so quickly from spot to spot.

He’s a Ganado: This one I sort of believe a bit more than the first one. Evidence that he might be a Ganado is that at different points of OG RE4, his eyes randomly start glowing red. It’s really creepy if you don’t expect it. At night, the Ganados eyes also glow red. But I feel like the remake disproves this idea with the use of the blue flames. The blue flames have the power to freeze plaga, as seen with the Armadura (the Knights). The Merchant has always had a blue flame near him. The remake changes his main flames to purple, but he still has a blue flame lantern on his table. I feel like he uses that as protection from las Plagas.

Now onto my own theory;

The Merchant is a rebel against Los Illuminados.

Not in the sense that he’s gonna sneak in to kill Saddler himself, but in the sense that he only deals weapons to people who are also against the Illuminados.

The Merchant, though very knowledgeable on weapons, is not much of a fighter. If you bring any enemies near him, he will throw his hands up in a defensive position and won’t talk to you until they’re gone. Why doesn’t he pull out one of his various guns to help Leon? Because that’s not how he rolls. He’s more like the Q to Leon’s Bond.

The remake doesn’t offer a ton of new info on the Merchant, but it does give us some insight on how he feels about the Illuminados through his requests.

In his request fliers, he describes Los Illuminados as “religious lunatics”, an “evil” and “blasted cult”. He calls the blue medallions “wretched things” and wants them gone. He deems anyone who joins the cult as “traitors”.

More evidence that he’s against the Illuminados comes from something he says right before you fight the final boss.

“I can hardly contain myself! You're really gonna do it, stranger!”

He’s giddy over the fact you’re about to go kill Saddler and destroy the cult once and for all.

Even going back to the original, his shooting gallery featured Ganados as targets. It’s not that strong of evidence, but it’s worth noting.

He specifically has a hatred for Ramón, the one who single handedly ruined the efforts of generations of Salazars to keep las Plagas sealed underground. In his request called “The Disgrace of the Salazar Family”, he calls Ramón “detestable” and wants the portrait of him in the throne room defaced. You can’t damage this portrait with any weapons, so you chuck an egg at it. It’s a very small act of petty revenge, but it’s one that hits Ramón where it hurts. Ramón has a very fragile ego, getting violent towards anyone who mocks him. So someone coming in and smashing an egg onto his portrait is bound to make him furious. This hatred is even present in the original game as the Merchant has a target of Ramón in his shooting gallery, and you get the most points for destroying it.

Some people say that the Merchant is only looking out for himself and will sell to anyone, hinting that he might’ve sold the Illuminados RPGs and other weapons towards the end of the game. But I think it’s safe to say that based on how he talks about them in his requests that he would not do business with anyone associated with the Illuminados. (It’s probably why we never see him do business with Luis. Even though he no longer works for the Illuminados, he did at one point and the Merchant can’t trust him.)

In fact, I believe that they didn’t get the weapons from him, but that he got the weapons from them. What better way to fight the Illuminados than to steal their weapons and sell them to people willing to use those weapons against them?

“Why doesn’t he just give you the weapons for free then?” He’s still a merchant. Man’s gotta make a living. When 99% of the folks around you work for the enemy, it doesn’t leave a ton of people to do business with. Leon and Ada are probably the only sane customers he’s seen in a long time.

Another thing we can pick up on is that the Merchant might not be working alone. A few of his lines include the words, “we” and “our”.

"We've been saving that one for the right customer!"

"We're starting to get an idea of your tastes, friend."

“You've exhausted our normal range of services for this weapon.”

I don’t believe he’s using it in the royal way, because he uses those words sparingly. He still uses “I” and “me” when talking about himself. So it’s possible that he does have other people working with him. Maybe they’re the ones who take the weapons from the Illuminados. If the Merchant isn’t much of a fighter, he’d be the wrong person to send into the lion’s den to steal weapons. What if he got caught? So it’s possible that he has a network of spies who confiscate weapons from the Illuminados and bring them back to the Merchant to sell to other rebels.

In the Grave Robber request, the Merchant calls the twins “traitors” for joining the cult. Is it possible that these twins were once part of the Merchant’s network of rebels but then either got caught and infected with the plaga or converted of their own free will?

Another piece of evidence that the Merchant isn’t working alone comes from Resident Evil Village. The Duke, the merchant of that game, quotes the RE4 Merchant;

“What're ya buyin?—Haha, just something an old friend of mine used to say."

An “old friend”, he says. Could it be that the Duke and the Merchant worked together to undermine the Illuminados, eventually parting ways after Saddler’s defeat?

So the TL;DR is that I believe the Merchant is a part of a resistance against Los Illuminados. He has a burning hatred for the cult and anyone associated with it. He is not much of a fighter, so he does what he’s best at; BUSINESS!! He gets his wares from allies who steal from the Illuminados’ supply, which is how he met the Duke. Once he has the merchandise, he sells them to people who are also against the Illuminados. He even sets up a free shooting gallery so that his customers can practice their aim. What good is it to sell guns to folks with terrible aim, right? After Saddler’s defeat, the resistance disbanded, and the Merchant returns home.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 😉

[lovdlydaz]

DEVIL BY THE WINDOW.

incubus!yeonjun x black!afab!reader

“i met the devil by the window, traded my life. temptation touched my tongue, spread the wings of desire.”

warnings: talks of religious beliefs/trauma, suggestive but there’s only dirty talk, kinda sorta angst? talks of the unknown/paranormal, whatever just enjoy

a/n: hello! this will be a 6 part series with ot5, the first one will be yeonjun since he is the oldest. i’m going down by ages so soobin will be next. hope you enjoy! pt. 2 here

you grew up in a very religious way, basically the epitome of a black christian household. your mother would hold bible studies at your house with all of her church friends, and your father was a preacher. your older brother had gotten baptized when you were 15, and he kept spitting religious facts and truths to you every second he could.

the fact was, you didn’t really believe in god as your parents thought you did. you had a bible, you had a bible app on your phone that would give you verses for the day, but it’s not like you ever read them. your bible dusted on the top of your dresser, collecting lint from every other book you had. you were a christian yes, but you were also not one.

you didn’t believe in ghosts, paranormal activity or anything of that sort. your parents always said that your childhood home was haunted, and it was the angels watching over the family that made the spirits not bother either of them. you just rolled your eyes at their bullshit, they would always say that.

however, you did always have that weird feeling that something was watching you, something you couldn’t put your finger on. it followed you everywhere, made you develop paranoia and forced you to always be cautious with everything you did.

you weren’t all that far off, either.

“why do you keep watching her, yeonjun?” soobin asked his fellow incubus, yeonjun staring through his fancy little glass that showed you on your phone at the subway station, headphones on and blasting music to help drown out the noise and the feeling of someone watching you. yeonjun just stared at your form, leaning on his hand and looking like a lovesick teenager.

“i don’t know soobin, but something about her just… makes me feel like i need to claim her. she looks so innocent and small, i need to take her.” he spoke, his voice getting darker with more syllables he spits out. soobin was a little taken aback by this, but he just chuckled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of their little demon house. “i get that feeling yeonjun-ah, but you do understand that there are regulations to us having contact with humans?” he asked the older, making the man turn his head to him and snap his fingers, shattering the glass mirror.

“i know, i’m not that stupid. but you know, we are demons right? so there’s nothing wrong with bending the rules a little, huh?” he smirked, making soobin sigh into his hands and look up at the blonde. “don’t say that i didn’t warn you when mr. satan is on your ass about you having relations with this girl,” he exasperated, but the smaller was already gone and off somewhere.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ੈ✩‧₊˚

it was nighttime, and you were doing your daily skin routine. you were applying all that you needed to all over your face to make it nice and shiny for the morning, and to help you sleep. you felt so much better now that you were in the comfort of your own apartment, grabbing your phone and laying down in your bed going through media. that’s when you heard it—three raps at the window. you quickly looked at your bedside window, and there was nothing there.

you got up and walked over to it, looking out of it without opening it. you were so scared, but you had to stay strong and tell yourself that you were just hearing things. until you came face to face with a demonic man staring right back at you through your window.

you screamed, grabbing the nearest object and chucking it at your window, breaking it and hitting the man in the face. he groaned and broke through the window, standing in your room while you cowered on your bed. you started to actually pray, trying to make the demon get out any way you could.

after a few minutes of praying and crying, you looked up and saw that it was still there, and just laughing at you. “god you humans are jumpy! prayers only work for ghosts and actual traditional demons, not me sweets.” he smiled, stepping one inch closer while you leaped three feet back. your back hit the wall and you slid down the wall, holding yourself and trying to calm yourself down.

that’s when yeonjun appeared in front of you and leaned down, grabbing your chin and staring at your form. your eyes were red and puffy, your big lips in a quiver as you stared back at him. he was pretty… really really handsome. you were surprised at this revelation, because you were always taught that demons were ugly and disgusting creatures who were the definition of evil. but this one was so handsome… and he looked kind, however that made just to deceive you and not actually be a kind demon.

“will you calm down now?” yeonjun inquired, giving you a small smile and a soft chuckle. your breathing had slowed down but not that much. you were still panicked that you had just witnessed a demon in your room, but he did ease you somewhat. at least he wasn’t trying to steal your soul or something. he just stared at you, hand still under your chin which you could barely notice since you were just trying to study his features.

he had soft pink skin with a rosy complexion, big pink lips and cat eyes. he had big eyebrows which oddly fit perfectly on his sculpted face with long pointy horns that were almost 5 feet in length. they were huge, but it only intrigued you more. his hands were big and veiny, and they were heavy. it made you realize that this man was a real demon, not just one from a fairytale or something. he was a real demon, and you had to take a few minutes to realize that.

however, the flapping of his large wings snapped you back into reality, making you lean back in fear. you hadn’t heard his question, so all you did was stare at him as your breath picked up again. he sighed, pressing a hand on your chest and it easily calmed your nerves, automatically making you more eased and relaxed. he chuckled, getting up and putting a hand on his hip.

“that’s much better, now… how about i introduce myself?” you nodded, getting up from the ground and sitting on the bed while he stood right in front of you. “my name is choi yeonjun, and i am a demon. that much you could probably see, but i’m not just any demon. i am an incubus, which means i feed off the sexual desire of my vic—humans. normally i feed from dreams, but i can also feed from the pure arousal of my subject. now how about you?” he asked, making you snap back into reality since you sorta zoned out on his face while he was talking.

“oh uhm—my n-name is y/n, and i’m a college student about to graduate. i’m 22 and have a job as a banking accountant, and uhm… i’m human? yeah?” you weren’t as scared anymore, but still on edge since he was just staring deep into your soul. it felt like he was feeding off you just from his eyes, which made you even more scared, you didn’t know what to do. you just kept your breathing steady, which he obviously noticed. “well, lovely introduction, i bet we could get along greatly,” he joked, smiling at your somewhat trembling form.

god, he couldn’t get enough of you. you were pretty and you looked so innocent, he wanted to just ruin you. turn you into his little toy to mess with, play with like a ragdoll and morph into what he wanted you to be. and he could, but he needed to ease you into it first. so, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and staring down at you.

“you’re probably wondering how i got here, and how you’re able to see me aren’t you?” he asked, to which you nodded. “well, us demons have this special little thing where we can either let humans see us, or have them see us in their dreams but never in real life. i’ve chosen to see you since i want to get a raw reaction from you instead of in your dreams, but that’s just me. not every incubus does it my way, but they’re all old farts so it doesn’t really matter,” he chuckled softly, still staring down at you. you couldn’t really comprehend what the hell you were seeing, but seeing him looking somewhat human had your nerves calmed.

although, his explanation made you a bit confused. “how can y’all just… pick and choose who gets to see you or not?” your tone was obviously filled with confusion, but he just laughed some more. “i don’t know, demons are just weird like that i guess,” he smiled, making you softly giggle. he snapped his fingers and pointed at you, smiling while he did so. “i made you laugh! point one for yeonjun.” he smiled proudly, making you giggle again. “don’t get on your high horse about it, it was just a small laugh.” you smiled, making him cross his arms and pout.

“any laugh counts in my book, so!” he exclaimed, making you slightly punch his shoulder. then you realize—he’s hot to the touch. not hot like he had been under a blanket, hot as in he had just soaked in the sun for about 3 years. he felt like he was constantly on fire, and it scared you yet intrigued you. he was filled with mysteries, and you felt like sherlock (insert shinee joke here). however, there was one lingering question on your mind—if he was an incubus… why did he come to you specifically?

“i still have one question though…” you mumbled, his head perking up and his tail swung behind him. “what is it?” he asked. “if you’re an incubus, then why did you come to me specifically? and what are you going to do to me?” your voice had hints of fear sprinkled in it, and he could tell—you thought he was going to suck your life force out of you while you were awake. he just burst out laughing, holding his stomach while wiping his eyes. “oh wow, wow! you think i’m gonna suck your life force away? that’s the funniest thing i’ve heard in my 100+ years of living!” he chortled, making you pout.

“but isn’t that what incubi do? sucubi and incubi suck the life force out of people through their arousal—“ “traditional sucubi and incubi do that, not me hun,” he said, looking down at you with condescending eyes. “what i want to do with you is claim you. make you mine. make you scream in pleasure as i pound deep into your womb with everything i have. i want to hear you, and make sure nobody else can have you unlike me. that’s all i want.” his voice got lower and raspier, crawling towards you and sitting on his knees on the bed. you could feel your legs clench with his words, already sort of feeling the arousal begin.

“and yeah, maybe we feed off of the desire of our hosts but that doesn’t mean we always take their life force out of them. sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t. sometimes we have a sort of nifty little thing that makes our human addicted to us more than ever, that no other human could satisfy them. sometimes we can take the life force away and turn them into a demon like us. it all depends on how we feel.” he rambled on, but you were drowning out his voice. that was until he grabbed your chin and forced you to stare at him, red eyes boring down on you.

“while i would like to make you a succubus so we could be together in hell, i would also like seeing you be unsatisfied with any man that tries to fuck you, to see you struggle to cum by yourself and to have me come by your window and make sure your neighbors file 6 noise complaints by the time we’re done. wouldn’t you like that, y/n-ah?” he purred deep into your ear, making you gulp and rub your legs together more. you whimpered slightly, feeling your body grow hot but that only made him smile. “so, it’s a deal? great!” he exclaimed, smiling brightly as he pulled away from you, getting up from the bed and going back to the window.

“see you again at the same time tomorrow, y/n-ah?” he asked, slowly climbing out the window and you nodded, still speechless by what you just had been a part of. he giggled and waved, flapping his wings then disappearing into thin air. you could feel how soaked you were through your underwear and you sighed, really trying to figure out what the hell just happened to you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ੈ✩‧₊˚

back at hell yeonjun happily flied into the house he shared with his pals, beomgyu greeting him this time. he raised his head up from his phone when he saw the smiley man come into the room, closing it and setting it down. “so? how’d it go?” he asked, yeonjun flopping onto their magic couch with a lovesick sigh. “i think it went pretty well. she was even feeling arousal before i did anything! so i say i’ve won her over,” he happily chirped, making beomgyu chuckle. “you really have a thing for humans don’t you yeonjun-hyung?” he smiled, yeonjun hitting him playfully and giggling. “not all humans, just her!” he bashed, letting soobin know it was his time to come into the room.

“you know everyone was watching you two right? even hyuka, and you know how he is about things like this, being a new incubus and all,” and that had yeonjun shocked, putting a dramatic hand over his chest and gasping. “really? guess my y/n did a pretty good job,” he proudly bellowed, making soobin roll his eyes and drink his hot coffee. “she is pretty yeonjun, but you do understand that if you put her under a spell that makes her unable to cum without the help of a demon, any demon that isn’t you can help her right?” he told the oldest, making yeonjun’s whole world come crashing down.

“hehe, funny story… i kinda did that before i left, and she didn’t notice…” he scratched the back of his neck, making soobin and beomgyu sigh. “well, you know your time on earth has started over right? so you have 5 days until you can go back, right?” he told him, yeonjun’s heart feeling a slight twinge. “so… i can’t please her until my time’s up?” he asked, soobin nodding. “don’t mean to say i told you so but… i told you so.” he giggled slyly, making the blonde boy growl.

“well then how is she supposed to get off? i can’t help her…” he mumbled, beomgyu holding his older friend in his arms. “how about this… everyone in our group can go and help her for each day you have to stay, and on the day you can come back, you can help her and—if you want—we can join you?” beomgyu suggested, making yeonjun’s bright eyes light up with joy. “you guys would really do that for me?” he asked, the two boys nodding. “i’ll convince hyuka to as well, and be there for emotional support whenever he goes!” terry called out from his room, hearing hyuka’s confused noise from his room. yeonjun just laughed some more, his smile brighter than ever.

“thanks guys, don’t know what i would do without you all,” he sighed, soobin ruffling his hair and beomgyu hugging him tighter. “it’s nothing yeonjun-ah, just what friends do right?” soobin spoke, making the fellow demon nod his head. “mhm, thanks you guys.”

© gg 2023. dividers were made by me. do not steal, use, or repost my work without my consent. reblogging/interaction is welcomed.

[anisespice]

“ bust your windows ” || cheater!headcannons

                       “ you should feel lucky that that's all I did. ”

synopsis: this fool underestimated just how little you tolerated cheaters.

pairing: various x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI. light violence, cheating, diff ways reader deals with it, mentions of blowjobs, mentions of a foursome, and i think that’s it. feel free to lemme know if i missed anything! ッ

notes: @bagels-yummm this one’s for YOU. after reading their post about reader never showing that R A G E when it came to being cheated on, i couldn’t agree more. even tho my recent story involving that very premise didn’t have that sweet revenge plot, i am here to contribute! hope you enjoy ♡

BUST HIM UP: PHYSICALLY 

For those who want to really let him have it, you’d confront his cheating ass the moment you found out. Right as he was having a cute little lunch with his side piece, you came barreling through the door with a sardonic grin spread across your face; the instant horror on his brought you great satisfaction. 

“‘At the gym’, huh? Didn’t know the gym sold fucking croissants!”

He abruptly stood, spluttering, already trying to do damage control. But you were a raging hurricane, and he was a shitty apartment that didn’t have the correct insurance. Before he even got the chance to spew some bullshit excuse, he’s met with scorching hot reality hitting him square in the face. Not only did you throw his drink on him, but his little date’s as well, and both were still fresh. He screamed bloody murder, hands trembling as he held his boiling skin. It wasn’t hot enough to actually melt it off, unfortunately, but his sounds of agony sufficed. 

Everyone in the cafe merely watched with mixed reaction, some enthralled whilst others felt the authorities should be called. You couldn’t care less, too busy chucking the napkin holders and decorative potted-plants at him now that he was immobilized. 

“Yeah, yeah, you piece of shit! You like that? How that karma feel, huh? Wanna fuck other bitches, hm?”

By now, he was curled up on the ground. His side piece had long vanished, not wanting to stick around knowing your wrath would be directed at them next. After publicly humiliating him, you caught your breath and gazed down at his cowering figure with pure distain. He groggily begged for forgiveness, claiming it you had it all wrong, but you weren’t born yesterday. You scoffed incredulously—Did he think you were stupid? As if you didn’t have receipts.

The photos, the messages, the fact he was dumb enough to let them use the Netflix account YOU paid for. And now, he wanted to insult your intelligence? Please.

Without hesitation, you spat on him. 

Was it necessary? Probably not. But neither was cheating on someone you claimed to love more than anything, and clearly didn’t mean it. You were gonna have to carry that hurt for the rest of your life; he should be grateful you didn’t do more.

“Don’t bother coming back for your stuff. I already burned it all.” 

SHINICHIRO, takemichi, chifuyu, kazutora, OIKAWA, kyotani, tanaka, kageyama, kenma, HAWKS, mirio, denki, SHINSOU, deku, twice, [insert anyone else who would fit].

BUST HIM UP: MENTALLY 

For those who want to play the long game, you’d act none the wiser to his infidelity. It stung like nothing you’ve ever experienced before when you caught him in bed with some whore, and it took every ounce of your willpower not to set it on fire with them still in it. Because, deep down, you knew men like him only learned the hard way.

And you planned on making him suffer. 

You started by acting real sweet with him. Months of you cooking him full course meals, giving him unprompted blowjobs, massaging his aching muscles after a long day, the whole nine yards. He thought he died and went to heaven, so much so that he saw his little plaything less often now that his lovely s/o started pampering him. Man’s was so confident that he was getting away with it, he got sloppy; let his guard down.

“Honey, can I use your phone real quick? I need to look up a recipe, but I think I left mine in the car.” You asked, fluttering your lashes with cute pout on your face. He didn’t think twice, especially not when you looked at him so sweetly. But once he turned his back, your burning gaze was filled with anything but.

The doorbell rang later that evening, and you were nearly done with dinner. He raised a brow, gaze lingering on the door—Neither of you were expecting anybody, to his knowledge. As you were chopping up the last of the vegetables, you venomously called out to your boyfriend, “Answer it.”

His lips pursed at your tone, but chose to ignore it. Doing as instructed, he lazily made his way to the door. At first, he figured it was just a neighbor, but when he checked the peephole...his blood ran cold. Practically ripping the door off its hinges he hurriedly came outside and shut it right behind him, back pressed against it as he stared bewilderedly at his side piece standing before him. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He lowly hissed, harshly grabbing their upper arm in mild panic. “I told you to never come around here again, are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

The person blinked, startled but also confused. “What are you talking about? You were the one who begged me to come over. Said you dumped that nagging bitch and finally kicked them to the curb.” 

“What? I never—” he paused. Then, realization hit him like a bus. But, before the dread could even build in his stomach, the door opened behind him. A cold chill ran up his spine. 

“Oh, great! You made it just in time for dinner. My name’s [_______], the nagging bitch. So nice to finally meet you.”

RAN, RINDOU, baji, hanma, wakasa, mikey, kokonoi, izana, smiley, IWAIZUMI, mattsun, atsumu, suna, bakugou, sero, dabi, [insert anyone else who would fit].

BUST HIM UP: EMOTIONALLY

For those who want to twist the knife, you did the one thing you knew would fuck him up HEAVY. And that was to trample on his already fragile ego. 

He was very possessive, never took kindly to those with wandering eyes whenever it came to you. Always worried someone better would take you away from him, and it got worse when it came to his friends. You reassured him numerous times that it would never happen, promising that he was more than enough for you. 

Sadly, the sentiment wasn’t mutual. 

He tried to hide it from you, but eventually the guilt became unbearable. And so he came clean. This man sobbed. Cried full on ugly tears and blubbered nonsense as you fought to keep your own composure. You felt sick. After everything you did for him—Boosted his confidence, made him feel special, and where did that leave you? Broken-hearted, with grown man tears staining your good sweater.

Nothing he said was going to ease this kind of pain, and he knew that. So when you walked away, he figured that would be the last he saw of you. But, that was far from the truth.

When you showed up to his apartment unannounced a few days later, he was shocked. He already looked like complete shit, and judging based on your expression, you thought so, too. He wanted to question why you were here, but before he could get a word out, your lips roughly claimed his own as you held him by the nape. He wasn’t prepared for the clash of teeth and tongue, soft whines leaving him as you pushed him inside and toward the bedroom, distracting him from the impending shadows that trailed in behind you. 

The next thing he knew, he was tied to his bed, looking about ready to succumb to the best hate-sex of his life. However, what he didn’t expect to see were a few of his closest friends entering the room. There’s an unspoken tension that develops, alarms sounding off in his head as the last one shuts the door and locks it. What were they doing here? Why were they looking at you like that? Those same alarms only grew louder as they each wordlessly stripped off their clothes, with you soon following suit. Starting to struggle against his restraints, his heart began to pound against his chest; he didn’t consent to a foursome. 

He immediately made that known, but you merely chuckled. The sound made his stomach turn in the worst way. When he went to demand explanation, you shoved your underwear in his mouth. Despite his better judgement, homie couldn’t help how hard he got from the situation, letting out a weak moan as your hand gripped his jaw and squeezed.

You leaned over his vulnerable form, grin sharp as you glowered down at him while he struggled against the tight knots. He saw a glint in your eye that held anything but good intent—And with your next few words, he couldn’t have been more correct. 

“They’re going to fuck me. And you’re going to watch.” 

ANGRY, draken, mitsuya, sanzu, KAKUCHO, tendo, kuroo, BOKUTO, akaashi, osamu, hinata, NISHINOYA, sugawara, todoroki, kirishima, TAMAKI, shigaraki, [insert anyone else who would fit]. 

© 2022-2023 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[fizzigigsimmer]

This is dedicated to @dragonflylady77 who is amazing always encourages me to write more in this verse and who has been having a rough week. Inspired by this post by @ariesbilly

Billy is going to have to ask out the hot neighbor who runs past his window every morning in the hospital.

In his defense he doesn’t plan for it to go down like that initially. He actually has a really good idea on how he’s going to get The Runner (what he’s going with absent of a name) off the sidewalk and into his bed. Symbolically speaking, because Billy has had too much sixty-nine in dirty club bathrooms to be a princess about whether there’s an actual bed in their future or not. 

Which is kinda how Billy arrives at his idea in the first place - the sixty nine bit. Billy’s flexible as shit, and believes in the sanctity of total body workouts. Because he’s not trying to look like an asshole. It’s about engaging muscles in equal proportions so you don’t end up looking like fucking Donkey Kong.

Anyway, Billy can do a handstand with the best of them. He can do a handstand while doing pushups. He can do a handstand one handed while doing pushups. He can do a handstand one handed while doing pushups and holding a barbell. It’s impressive shit, and it has gotten him more than a few coded glances at the gym.

The goal here is to get a piece of that ass - or better yet, let that third arm The Runner’s tight little shorts do absolute wonders with, get a piece of him - but Billy’s classy with it. He figures he’ll treat The Runner to a little show before the main event.

There is a bottle of fresh orange juice and a carton of eggs in his fridge that says he knows how to show a guy he’s more than just a hit and dip. Billy even showers before he goes outside to begin his workout, considerate of the fact that sweat & musk isn’t everyone’s favorite combination. He does up his hair, forgoes a shirt, and puts on his sluttiest pair of sweats - the ones that make his ass pop - gathers up his shit and heads out into the front yard at just after seven A.M. His runner doesn’t usually come by until around half past, but Billy doesn’t want to chance missing him.  

Billy sets his towel and his barbells off to the side, facing the sidewalk, so that he’s got a reason to ask the runner to stop and he can see the runner coming without looking too obvious about it. He does some stretches to get limber, along with a set of jumping jacks to get his heart pumping and work up a bit of a sweat. 

A group of pre-teen girls wearing backpacks decide that right outside his house is where they need to stop and decide if one of them still has a crush on someone called Pineapple. Billy has no idea why they feel the need to speak in code like he gives a shit about their middle school drama, but they’re taking up the whole damn sidewalk with it. So Billy chucks a clod of dirt at their feet and smirks as they all jump and scream like a snake tried to bite their heels. 

The bravest of the group demands to know why he threw dirt at them to which Billy just snaps, “No loitering!”

Pouty and reluctant, the group starts to move on. Just in time too, because Billy spots The Runner turning the corner at just that moment. With a thrill of anticipation Billy times it in his head to give a good show and then baits the hook. He turns and bends down onto his hands, ass out, and then lifts his feet into the air. He peeks over his shoulder to make sure the runner is watching - oh hell yeah, he’s watching Billy with this sort of dumbstruck expression, lips parted and doe eyed - and then does a few standing crunches just to sweeten the pot.

All that’s left is to seal the deal.

“Hey can you -” Billy starts to ask if the guy can hand him one of the barbells on top of his towel but a girlish scream interrupts him. It’s not like the dirt clod scream where it was just a bunch of girls being dramatic, it’s different. The bad sort of scream that means someone has really gotten hurt or is about to. Billy falls back onto his feet as quickly as he can, instincts on high alert just as the sound of a crash follows the scream.

He sees the runner splayed out on his back halfway through the ratty old fence in the neighbors yard. The group of girls are surrounding a girl on the ground, who is clutching her leg but staring on in horror at where the runner has fallen. 

“Jesus Christ! What the hell happened?” Billy demands to know as he runs over.

“I was tying my shoe! He just tripped right over me.” The girl on the ground wails. Her friends back her up presumably. In any case they do a lot of talking at once that Billy doesn’t really listen to once he’s got the gist of it - girl bruised but okay, his plans for the morning possibly broken or dead.

Thankfully one of the girls has some sense, and a flip phone because she gets on it and starts to dial 911.  Billy doesn’t think the guy is dead judging by the way he’s groaning as he tries to lift himself, but the blood streaming down one side of his face does make him think he may have broken him a little bit.

“Hey, hey, don’t move.” Billy warns him, crouching at his side. He puts hands on him because the guy is wearing a glassy eyed expression that doesn’t give Billy great confidence that he can hear anything but the birds circling around his head. 

“You’re bleeding from your head. Are you hurt anywhere else?” Billy asks. A glance over the guys really trim and scantily clothed body would imply that other than a few scratches on his arms and legs the biggest problem is the bump on the head, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

“I’m a grown man dad I can smoke pot if I wanna.” The Runner slurs, turning his head in Billy’s direction. He blinks owlishly at him as if he’s just noticed him for the first time. “Oh hi. You’re really pretty.”

Billy smirks.

“Pretty enough for you to trip over your own ass?”

Brown eyes blink back at him in glazed confusion, the runner’s brow furrowing with deep consternation.

“No. No… it wasn’t my ass, it was…” 

He tries to turn and point like a drunken child and Billy stops him before he can hurt himself further, cause he’s obviously concussed as shit.  

He’s also stupidly cute. So while Billy wasn’t really planning for this whole thing to end in a hospital bed, and to spend his morning playing bedside vigil he’s not too mad at it either.  It’s not every day someone literally falls for you.