#and they look at your eyes like saying “its your problem now"

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood, (Menstion of past) Kidnapping

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing sighs as he handcuffs the thief. He went a lot harder than he expected but how can you blame him? His family was in danger and he needed to do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen again

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part seven)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve's visitors in the 1950s force him to accept the truth. The new Captain America drives a wedge in the reader's relationship with Bucky.

themes/warnings : pining, angst, Loki and Mobius featured

word count : 2k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

The 1950s, seven months after Steve's arrival

You're not supposed to be here.

The sound of an old radio drifts lazily through the air, some crooner from a time long forgotten. Loki lingers behind Mobius in the living room, adjusting his coat with a smirk that practically drips with condescension. He's enjoying the storm of emotion on Steve's face.

"What do you mean?" The former Captain America asks.

Mobius and Loki exchange glances before Mobius steps forward, pulling out a small, metallic device that flickers with a strange light.

Mobius gets right into his explanation, gesturing to the TemPad, its holographic images flashing in front of Steve: timelines splitting, branches forming, collapsing under the careful pruning of the TVA.

Steve simply watches as the enormity of it sinks in. His world is crumbling around him yet again.

"What do you think you're doing here, Captain?" Loki drawls, his eyes glinting with an odd mix of amusement and sympathy. "Living the quiet life, are we? Playing house in the 1950s?"

Mobius sighs, ignoring Loki's taunts. "You know why we’re here, Steve. We came to bring you back. You weren’t meant to stay."

Steve’s eyes flicker with a brief flash of something – regret? Guilt? Or was that hope? He turns slightly, casting a glance at the quaint home he stands in, and then back at Mobius. "I made my decision."

"Yeah, you did," Loki interrupts, crossing his arms as he sizes up the man in front of him. "And look where that’s gotten you. Hiding out in a time that doesn’t belong to you."

Steve’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening. He can feel the accusation hanging in the air, too familiar, too true. But he keeps his voice steady, his shoulders stiff. "I came back to claim what I deserve."

Mobius steps closer, his voice softer now. "While I understand that, Steve... Right now, you’re living in the past – a time which was never meant to be your present."

Steve says nothing. The truth is a splinter lodged in his chest, one that’s been festering since he first stepped into this world that wasn’t his. Because it wasn’t really about Peggy anymore. It was about you.

You. The one he left behind, the one he’s thought about every single day since he made that fateful choice. He had convinced himself he was doing the right thing, that he could live in the past and let go of everything. But the truth gnawed at him. He wasn’t living here – he was hiding.

"I had to come back," Steve mutters, almost to himself. "I owed it to Peggy."

Loki lets out a sharp laugh, drawing Steve’s attention. "Oh, please. Owing someone something doesn’t mean trapping yourself in a past that doesn’t need you. Peggy moved on, Steve. She had a life. But you? You abandoned yours."

He abandoned you. He abandoned Bucky.

Mobius sighs again, hands slipping into his pockets as he tries to cut through Loki’s sharp edges. "Steve, we’re not here just because of your choices. You staying here, in this time – it’s creating problems. Serious ones."

Steve frowns, straightening. "You prune timelines. What’s one more divergence?"

Mobius rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Loki before answering. "You're not just some random variant. You're Captain America. The impact of your absence is like pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry. Everything starts to unravel. Even the TVA can't stop the consequences of that for long."

Steve’s face hardens. "I'm just living quietly, out of the way. No one knows I'm here."

Loki’s voice cuts in, sharp and cold. "And every day you stay, more branches form. The longer you hide from where you're meant to be, the more damage is done."

Mobius steps forward, his voice steady but urgent. "Steve, we can only prune so much before the entire thing collapses. And trust me, when that happens, we don’t just erase this reality. We erase you."

"I don't believe – "

"We erase her."

Steve’s breath catches, his mind racing. This wasn’t what he thought. Now that harm is directed to you, the situation has drastically changed for him.

"And what if I go back?" Steve’s voice is tight, controlled, but beneath it is a thread of fear, of hope.

Mobius softens, sensing the shift. "If you go back, the timeline stabilizes. The branches collapse. The Steve Rogers your world remembers – the one who fought for the future, not the past – returns. And her…" He pauses, carefully choosing his words. "She's still waiting for you, Steve."

"Is she?" Loki cuts in, his tone mischievous as can be. "Didn't they just – "

Mobius sharply stops him right then and there. "Shut up, Loki."

Steve's heart twists painfully. His choice had been selfish, and he knows that. He'd run from you, from a future he was afraid to face. A life he believed could never offer peace.

"What if it's too late?" His voice breaks, just a little, his heart finally admitting the one thing he’s been too afraid to say.

Mobius smiles gently. "You’ve made tough calls before, Steve. But this isn’t about war, or duty, or sacrifice. This is about you. You deserve to live in your timeline – with the people who need you. She needs you. Go back, Steve. Fix what you can still fix."

Steve stands in silence, torn between the life he thought he wanted and the one that’s still waiting for him. He thought staying here would bring him peace, but all it's brought is doubt, regret, and a gnawing emptiness. He doesn't have his heart here with him.

Steve is about to speak, when Hunter comes bounding in the room, tail wagging wildly as he takes in the intruders. Another thing that Steve will have to leave behind.

But, apparently not.

"The dog can come with you," Mobius offers, shrugging lightly.

"What?" Loki turns to him in amused disbelief.

"Oh c'mon. Hunter is just as much hers, as he is Steve's."

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

For a while, everything had felt right.

Whatever right was in your lives.

Until the TV in your apartment blared the news about John Walker, Captain America 2.0.

Bucky watched it, jaw clenched, as some stranger stood there in Steve's uniform, parading the shield like it had only ever been his.

Bucky saw the flash of pain that crossed your face, which quickly transformed into anger.

He felt it almost immediately. You were pulling back, closing yourself off, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when the ghost of Steve is hovering between the two of you.

Was it still about Steve? Or was it about the future you both thought you had a handle on, until some nobody took everything that Steve represents?

Bucky knows you're hurting. He feels it. He's felt it since the moment Steve left – when you were left behind, and so was he.

And it kills him, seeing you like this, maybe even more than the pain he feels from being left behind.

Steve's shadow is keeping you from fully being here, with him, and it's a fresh kind of hurt.

You shut the TV off and irately toss the remote somewhere in the room.

Bucky clenches his fists and finally speaks, his voice rougher than usual. "We should go see Sam."

"Okay," you respond, your voice calm yet empty.

He's not going to lose you. He can't.

"Doll?"

Your response is a barely audible hum.

Bucky reaches for your hand, his anchor. "We're gonna be okay."

You nod, and offer a weak smile.

It's enough, for now.

When you arrive at Sam's, the tension doesn't ease. Sam takes one look at the two of you, and immediately detects that something is off.

Obviously, there's the matter of Walker. But he sees that there's something different too.

Just what the hell did you and Bucky get yourselves into?

Bucky and Sam exchange a look – one loaded with frustration – before Bucky breaks the silence. "We can't let Walker carry that shield, Sam. Before Steve left, he – "

Sam sighs, shaking his head. "He hinted at wanting to pass the mantle on to you or me – "

Bucky intervenes, "It should be you."

" – but... it's out of our hands, Buck. The government's already made their decision."

The words hit Bucky like a punch. You stay quiet, your mind whirring. You're thinking about Steve again – Bucky can see it.

Something settles in the pit of his stomach. It's nasty and unwelcome, and it makes him want to reach for you and shake Steve out of your thoughts.

He wants to tell you that he's here, and Steve isn't.

He's jealous.

Great, Bucky groans internally, I'm jealous of a damn ghost.

Sam watches the two of you for a moment, sensing the tension. "We'll figure something out. But for now, we have to let this play out. I've got other things on my plate right now."

"What is it?" you finally speak up, concern evident in your tone. "Anything we can do to help?"

"I've been hearing talk about this group. They call themselves the Flag Smashers. I can show you guys the briefing. They're out there right now, and they're not gonna wait for us to get our act together."

"We're coming with you," Bucky says, his voice steady and unflinching.

"Non-negotiable," you confirm, smirking, stepping closer to Bucky as a show of unity.

Sam hesitates, arms crossed as if weighing his options, then his gaze lingers on Bucky's neck. Then slowly – too slowly – he glances at you.

That's when he finally catches on.

The look on his face is almost comical, his eyes widening as he clocks the similar, telltale mark at the crook of your neck.

"Oh, man. Really?"

You feel your cheeks heat instantly as Sam's smirk grows wider.

"What? It's not – " you try to speak, but Sam's having none of it.

"No, no, no. This explains a lot. Like, a lot." He's grinning now, shaking his head like he's finally in on the joke. "I mean, all this weird energy... I thought y'all we're just mad about Walker, but now I get it. Shoulda known. It makes a lot of sense, the two of you."

You glance at Bucky, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but in that room.

"It's not like that," you mutter defensively, even though it's pointless with Sam.

"Sure, sure," Sam says, failing to suppress a chuckle. "You two just happened to get the same exact bruise in the same exact spot. Must have been a hell of a battle, huh?"

Bucky just scowls, though his ears are tinged pink. "So are you going to brief us or what?"

"Nah, man, you're good. So, what's the plan? You gonna take on the Flag Smashers like it's some couples' retreat?"

You sigh. "We're helping. That's it. This conversation is over."

"Okay, okay," Sam raises both hands in surrender, but he doesn't miss the chance to land another jab. "You're in. But maybe leave the hickeys for after the mission, yeah?"

"Shut up, Wilson," Bucky grumbles. Then he mutters under his breath, as Sam walks away to retrieve the files – "No promises."

You shoot him a look that lets him know you heard him, and he meets your gaze coolly. He wanted you to hear.

You feel a bit lighter – it's the effect he has on you.

Even though chaos has set back in your reality, and even though you're not quite sure where things stand between you and Bucky, there's one thing you know for sure – you're going into this together.

Non-negotiable.

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Some notes in the margins...

Stevie boy's coming back! With Hunter!! I guess you can say he'll actually give Bucky something to be jealous about. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Judging by the results of this poll, yous are heavily pro-Bucky. Can't blame ya. But is he endgame?

What do you think will happen when they're all back together in the next part? 🙃

[carringtonsgirl]

BETTER

M.STURNIOLO

in which chris accuses his girlfriend of wanting to fuck his brother so she does just that.

warnings: cheating,matt with the belt,p in v,sextape,creampie.

nothing more that matt hated then his brother stealing the girl he was first interested in just to be a total dick to her.

matts brother chris was dating y/n. they have been together for five months now. matt was interested in the girl first but then his brother had to go and snatch her from him. she was never his in the first place but still.

the two brothers had met the girl from their triplet brother nick. the two had been friends since they moved to la. they met at a influencer party and have been inseparable ever since.

matt instantly started feeling something for the girl when she started to come around more often. her and him were somewhat close but not as close as her and nick.

chris knew that matt felt something for the girl and yet he still went after her just to end up treating her bad.

the first month or two chris and y/n were dating it was perfect,he treated her good and the sex was good but for the past two months now chris completely changed. he would constantly blow her off when she tried to make plans with him and he would constantly argue with her and accuse her of cheating(he was the one who was cheating.)the only time they weren’t arguing is when they were fucking which wasnt often.

right now the girl was hanging out with nick chris and matt. they were all in the car currently on their way back to the triplets house from going out to dinner.

the car ride back to their house was strangely quiet and all that could be heard was the music that chris was playing.

dinner went good until chris opened his mouth and went on a rampage about something the girl did that pissed him off. matts jaw was clenched the whole ride back to their house.

he didn’t understand why chris was dating her if he was gonna be mean to her all the time. she deserved better, and matt was better.

as soon as they got home matt pulled into the garage parking the car and chris instantly got out and stormed inside the house slamming the door behind him.

“im gonna go talk to him.” the girl said softly.

matt sighed as she got out going inside after chris. he wishes she would just leave him.

nick noticed that matt seemed like something was bothering him so he spoke up. “you okay?”nick asked.

“i just don’t understand chris.” matt said as he was clenching his jaw.

“i know i dont understand it either, i know hes our brother but he shouldnt be treating y/n like that.” nick said.

“its so fucking stupid.” matt said as he got out of the car walking inside.

all that could be heard when walking into the house was chris yelling along with a slam of a door.

“i dont understand why you act so fucking perfect y/n! you piss me the fuck off so much and you wonder why i treat you the way i fucking do!” chris yelled.

the girl stood there not saying a word to him because she knew if she did he would be getting a reaction out of her and she didnt want him to think he has that control over her but she decided to end up speaking up for herself.

“chris i dont understand what your problem is” she said calmly.

“you dont understand what MY PROBLEM is? have you seen yourself have you seen the fucking way you look at matt!?” chris said rolling his eyes.

“what way do i look at him chris? hes a FRIEND”she said.

“no y/n clearly hes more than that!” chris yelled.

“what the fuck ever im not gonna sit here and argue with you all because your jealous of your own brother.” she said as she started to walk out the room.

“whatever you’re probably just gonna go fuck matt or something.” chris said.

“maybe i fucking will.” she said as she walked out of his room.

‧˚♡彡

matt was sitting on the living room when he saw the girl walking up the steps from chris’ room.

“hey. you okay?” he asked.

she nodded as she came over and sat down on the couch a inch or two apart from him.

“chris is just going on a big rampage on how apparently i wanna fuck you.” the girl said.

matts face lit up with amusement as he heard the words that came out of her mouth but suddenly a small smirk came onto his face.

“well do you?” he asked as he made eye contact with her.

“matt..im with your brother.” she said looking at him.

“i know baby but i promise i could fuck you so much better then he can.” matt said as he scooted closer to her.

as much as the girl denied it she often found herself thinking how it would be like to fuck matt. she would get herself off sometimes while thinking about his head inbetween her thighs or him pounding into her from behind.

“but only if you let me.” matt said as he was now inches away from her face.

the girl thought about it for a second she knew it was wrong to do chris that way but she couldnt help but want matt to be deep inside of her.

“please.”she said as she smashed her lips onto his kissing him softly.

matt kissed her back as he pulled her onto his lap wrapping his hands around her waist.

“thats all you had to say baby.” matt said as he held her as he stood up walking to his room.

matt carefully shut the door behind him making sure to lock it before placing her down on the bed.

he slid off her shirt then matt took his shirt off and hovered back over the girl kissing her softly.

the kiss instantly grew heated as matt was grinding his bulge against the girls aching core causing her to whimper into his mouth as her hands were tangled in his hair.

matt reached his hand down sliding it underneath her skirt dipping his hand into her panties feeling her aching wet cunt.

matt pulled away from the kiss and whispered into the girls ear. “so wet just f’me huh?” matt said causing her to whimper as he started to rub her clit.

“gonna make you feel so good baby.” he said as he started to kiss on her neck.

she whimpered as he slipped two of his fingers into her wet cunt and thrusting them into her at a fast pace.

he grabbed her throat with his freehand kissing her roughly as he was fingering her as she was moaning into his mouth.

he suddenly pulled out his fingers and bent her over the bed slipping her panties and skirt off of her.

he unbuckles his pants sliding off the belt and grabbing her wrists and tying them together with his belt.

he slid off his pants and grabbed her pulling her to the edge of the bed and slamming into her.

he thrusted into her at a fast pace as she was moaning loudly. he chuckled at how quick she became a mess.

“yeah? you like going dumb on your boyfriends brothers cock huh?” he groaned as he slapped her ass.

“mhmmmmm” she moaned out not being able to form sentences because all she could think about was his cock fucking her dumb.

“such a fucking whore, might have to call chris so he can hear how much of a whore his girlfriend is for my cock.” matt said as he reached to grab his phone.

he smirked as he clicked on his brothers name calling him.

[PHONE CALL]

“what matt”

“your girlfriend is such a good fuck”

“matt dont fucking play with me.”

“im not dont you hear how dumb she is right now?”

“you wouldn’t fucking do me like that”

“what? you mad i can dick her down better then you can.”

“oh fuck matt right there”

“you’re just fucking some random y/n went back to her house because we argued”

“whatever you say buddy”

matt ended the call with a satisfied smirk.his thrusts never faltering as he continued to pound into her. the girl was moaning uncontrollably, her body responding to every move he made.

“see, baby? even chris heard how i can fuck you better.” matt whispered against her ear, his voice dripping with arrogance and lust.

she could only nod, her mind too clouded with pleasure to form any coherent words. matts pace quickened, his grip on her hips tightening as he brought them both closer to the edge.

“gonna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock?” matt growled his own release approaching fast as he took the belt off of her wrists.

the girl could only moan in response.her body trembling as she felt the intense pleasure build up inside her. matts pace became relentless driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"thats it baby. cum all over my dick youve been such a good girl.”matt said as he grabbed the belt spanking her with it a few times.

with one final thrust, the girl cried out, her body convulsing as she reached her peak. the sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over her.

matt followed soon after groaning deeply as he released inside her. his grip on her hips tightening momentarily.

he felt himself cumming deep inside of her as he grabbed his phone recording him slowly pulling out of her with the mixture of their cum oozing out.

he leaned against her as he put his phone in her face, showing how fucked out she was. swollen lips, hair stuck to her face from sweating looking all fucked out.

“i fuck you better then chris huh baby?” he smirked as she nodded in response.

“words baby.” he said.

“you fuck me so much better then chris” she said all fucked out.

with that he ended the video clicking on his brothers contact name.

matt: *one attachment sent*

matt: all fucked out by me.

chris: fuck you matt.

matt: maybe if you treated her right she wouldnt of done this but clearly im better.

he smirked as he laid beside the girl pulling her into his arms. he started rubbing on her body as he kissed her forehead.

he cuddled her til they both fell asleep, not knowing that chris was about to come and rudely awake them.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FIVE

NSFW

Well! Five parts later and here is your bee-smut! There will be other parts to this, and part six will probably be up by later tonight, since I'm on a roll rn. tw: breasts WILL be mentioned lol

When Rena finally stopped flying, you were outside of a large structure. You’d always imagined the hive itself as a sort of large cartoon beehive, but instead found something that looked more like a gymnasium. The outside coating looked almost like a gray paper mache, no sharp edges in sight. The “building” stood four stories tall and seemed to form itself around the impossibly tall trees of the ancient wood. It stretched impossibly wide, and you couldn’t tell quite how long the building stretched on.

There were several guard bees at the entrance. You recognized one of them as a bee-men you had met at the music festival. They saw you and Rena and immediately moved aside, Rena pushing you through the door. She eventually grabbed your hand and started to guide you through what seemed like tunnels.

The ceiling shone with a faint light, much like the inside of the shed you had visited once. You weren’t able to do much. You were out of breath from your running when you eventually made it to a large room with a high ceiling. You could see about thirty bee-men, scattered around this way and that. Many of them met your eyes, looks of pity, and despair settling in the ridges between their eyebrows and noses. You kept on, until Rena brought you through another tunnel, passing room after room. Finally, it seemed you had made it to where you were supposed to be and you saw a figure slumped down in a small alcove in the wall. You’d recognize these those wings anywhere.

“Lyith!” You yelled, running to his side. You turned him over, and you were taken with a strange forbidden feeling  pulsing its way into your head. It was like a current was pushing at the dam of your mind, waiting to break. Lyiths usual, lemon-grapefruit sent had turned sour, like he was rotting. He was pulling in breath after breath, like his lungs couldn’t hold onto any of it. His limbs shook and twitched. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on in the room.

“He smells like decaying magic. Whats going on Rena.” You knew what she would say, but refused to believe it.”

“Lyith can’t handle his own mana right now. It's not compatible with his body anymore.” Rena’s eyes were filled with tears.

“But that only happens when you guys are starved for magic right? Haven told me! You guys have been able to get more magic from my honey, why is he…” Your face was hot and your mouth was dry.

“He was very weak before he started getting nutrients. His body didn’t build strength quick enough to adjust to the influx of energy..”

“But you guys were descended from gods right? You're like demigods! Can’t you heal him?”

“The problem isn’t his physical body, it’s his magical one. The structure around his magic is too weak. Listen, Little One, there is still something we can do. You can do.”

Leith let out a gargling buzz. It sounded almost like he was choking.

“You can use your magic. I don’t know how it works, but your mana is very compatible with ours.” She took your hands and pulled them around Lyiths, pressing down firmly.

“There are two forms of magic when it comes to us. Our own magic, and our hives. His magic can’t handle the hives so its burning itself up trying to keep up. If you use your magic and join it to his for a while, you might be able to give him enough strength to endure for a time. But if you do this wrong, and add your magic to that of the hive…”

“It’ll overwhelm him. I’d kill him.”

“He’s already dying, (y/n).” This was the first time Rena had ever called you by name.

You stared out at Lyith’s face, wincing at how he was contorting in pain. It was just like Haven had described. His magic was burning him up.

You didn’t know if this would work, but you had to try. You carefully shook yourself from Rena’s grip, placing your hands onto Lyith’s cheeks. You concentrated on the feeling of magic. Immediately, your vision went starry. You were overwhelmed with white pulsing hot magic. It overtook all of your senses. It took everything you had to mentally claw and pull yourself up enough to be, let alone see. There was so much there. You immediately recognized the feeling of Rena’s mind, then Haven’s then that of so many others who had shared their feelings with you overtimes. You could feel their astonishment. The horror, the joy, the disturbed and the hopeful. You had to pull yourself out of it. This feeling must be the magic of the hive that Rena had been talking about.

You reached your awareness out further, concentrating on Lyith, but it was so hard to find him over the rushing current of magic. You eventually found his pain first, and followed it back to a racing, burning hot feeling. You grasped onto it with all of your might. You reached around and tried to feel out where Lyith began and the rest of the hive began, but it took time. Too much time.

You eventually grasped him, using your magic to form a barrier around his consciousness and the magic that surrounded him. There was no physical realm in your eyes, just magic, and you slowly started to piece your own mana out to his, watching it trickle around him. You could see it then, the structures, the geometry that made him up, like he was a log cabin and his wooden beams were burning. 

Yes! That was it! You saw it now. 

Slowly, you pushed your magic into his structure, fortifying it, adding layers of concrete to his wood. That little pool of energy inside you became a well, and you added it to the weakest parts of the house. A wall had already collapsed so you concentrated on building that up again, using the ash that had already been burnt. The fire, the fire burning the house was trying to consume you too, it hurt, almost forcing your mind back into your body. 

“Little witch please be careful.” Lyith whispered in your ear. But you didn’t have a body, you were a well. The voice had been weak. Too weak. You needed to heal him, build him up again. You continued to work, fueled by your desperate need not to see him die. You gave your magic over to him, and suddenly he wasn’t a house anymore but a garden. LIke your garden! You could feel him completely around you. His breath was your wind, his body the soil.

But his garden was decayed. His flowers were wilted, the stalks browning. You couldn’t leave him like that. Not your Lyith.

“Slow down.” You heard him hiss, from somewhere you couldn’t quite see. A part of you was happy, he was finally awake somewhat. But you were not done yet, you needed to heal him. You took that pool of energy that was inside of yourself and got to work. It was easy, you had done this so often, building up the flowers and letting them grow. Letting them heal.

It felt good. A warm excitement filled your consciousness, urging you on. There was no pain here. Usually when you expel your magic it weakened you. But this. This felt good. Like that ease in your muscles after a good walk.

You continued to build up the garden. You could feel Lyith everywhere. He could feel his strength returning as you worked. The burning fire had turned to a warm summer heat, perfect for growing. 

“You know not what you do little one, I am well, you have to--” He let out a moan. Something within you stirred. He had told you to stop but you could feel him. Feel his mind and his truth. He didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you to stop. You pushed your mind further against him, like a cat rubbing their head against their owner. There was a building of the summer heat coursing through him, through you, and you wanted more. 

You pushed at him, mushed your magic into his garden, totally invading his senses. All you wanted him to think about was you, feel you. And he did. The more magic you channeled into him, the more the excitement built, searing hot pleasure flooding all of your senses. You weren’t sure if it was his or yours. You wanted more. You pushed against him again. You didn’t stop, all you felt was pleasure mounting. Hot needy pleasure. The garden you had made was healed now. His magic was sturdy, strong, healthy. You had done it! You had healed him, and you were together and--

The pulsating, beating heat crescendoed and you cried out, he cried out, and then all you felt and all you two were was ecstasy. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you rode out your high. It was amazing, delicious and your body ached. Your body.. Slowly, your senses came back to you. You had a body. You could feel it now. Toes and fingers and eyes. You could see. And what you saw was Lyith under you, his beautiful eyes glazed over, drool trailing out of his mouth. His skin was hot under your fingertips. During your work you had straddled him. Your underwear was warm, wet, and you could feel a bulge pushing up against your clothed entrance. Your awareness finally pulled away from his and your mind was your own again.

Except it wasn’t wasn’t exactly yours anymore. You felt the ghost of a bond in the back of your head. A bond that trailed back to Lyith. You had done something that couldn’t be undone.

You felt Lyiths large sturdy hands squeeze your thighs. Affection and and loud, resilient devotion. You could taste it on the air, as you focused on it, it overwhelmed all your senses.

“My Queen. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He breathed out, his voice still ragged.

Queen?

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You pulled back, pushing your body off of Lyith and against the wall of the cot. Your tired, sore body was weakening, as the realization of what you had just done crashed upon you.

“I… I only meant to heal you.”

Lyith looked at you with soft eyes, before pulling himself up to face you.

“And you did. You did it perfectly. But it worked a little too well. You shouldn’t have been able to do that. Not like this.” He reached forward and cradled your hands.

“But it happened.” He pulled your hands to cup his cheeks. He stared at you, his expression complicated. You knew if you pulled on the bond it would all be open to you, every little complicated emotion. There was a tickle in your mind. He wanted you to feel how he felt.

There was sadness, for causing you pain. Ache and relief, to finally have you, pride, to be able to call you his, and for you to call him yours. Bewilderment, that your power was such that you could ensnare him in such a way, and curiosity of how the two of you would maneuver through this. And there was an instinctual part, buzzing and excited to finally have a queen to serve, to breed-”

Okay that was probably a little too far! You pulled back enough for a bit of embarrassment to pass across his face. But he held your gaze. He had shown you all of his truth and you loved him for it. 

“Well, this has been a really wild afternoon.” Rena said, loud enough to break up your scene.

The horror of realizing Rena had just witnessed everything and probably felt it too, made you choke on the air in your throat. Your already hot face charged up to a solar flare.

She was sitting down, leaning against the wall. A feral smirk on her face, both pairs of arms crossed around her chest. One finger was slowly, meaningfully tapping against her arm.

“Well, um-- you see-- it was an accident!” You sputtered, pulling away from Lyiths grasp to the end of the bed. You didn’t look at Lyith, only tried to explain the words of what happened but not finding them.

Rena suddenly stood up, her stance strong as she purposefully stalked towards your end of the bed. Her gaze was burning, a hungry smile on her face as she leaned down, and tilted your chin up with a black finger.

“Little One, only Queens can bond to a Bee-men like that. For a Human, we would have to spend weeks prepping you before you could even manage to attempt what you have done.”

She moved forward, putting both of her knees outside of yours, leaning over you with a fire in her eyes.

“I knew there was something different about you. I want to know what, and I want you to do that again.” Her bottom set of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to her. Her other hand gripped your shoulder.

Your heart was roaring now, and you looked to Lyith for help. He was watching with amusement, leaning back against the headboard wall of the cot. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his features or his mind.  Whatever was going on, he was definitely down for it. 

You swallowed thickly.

“C-can’t we t-take a moment to think this over?” 

She ignored you, her gaze straying to your lips. The hands at your waist started to roam, gently moving up and down, one wandered to the hem of your shirt, the other cupping the curve of your ass and rubbing through the fabric.

You tried not to let your arousal show, starting to tremble under her ministrations, as she watched you with her triumphant, molten gaze.

“Lyith may have been yours first, but I won’t let him have you to himself.” She leaned forward and gently bit down on the curve of your ear. Your breath hitched and you had to keep yourself from mewling.

 “I’m yours too, you know?” She said this part gently, an earnestness made its way into your mind. It felt like how she smelled and you leaned into it. 

If you were truly a Queen now, there was no going back. Things had changed since you had bonded with Lyith. Rena was someone you treasured too. She was arrogant and sweet, and she had always been kind in the ways that mattered.

Well. What was one more anyway? You thought, closing your eyes and leaning your body into Rena’s. She let out a triumphant trill, Then slowly started dragging her impossibly long textured tongue up your neck. 

“I’m going to show you how we normally prepare a human queen.” She purred. Her arms moved to pull up your shirt as you felt the cot move under you. Lyith had moved from his spot from the end of the bed, and had situated himself behind you, his own arms curling around your hips, playing with the edges of your pants.

“While this looks very fun, I’m not the type to just sit and watch.” He sang out in a low voice. Rena huffed and rolled her eyes. But she continued to undress you, long fingers hitching around your bra and freeing your breasts. She leaned back and looked at them, purring the whole time.

Well. It looked like you were in for a long night.

Part Six (Beware NSFW)

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Talks of death, Lots of anxiety, Reader has a mental breakdown kind of, Abandonment issues surface hardcore, Talk of curses, Talk of magic, Major angst, Sea shanty, Feelings of hopelessness, Davy Jones reveal! I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The port of St. Augustine was much like any other port you had found yourself in. The marketplace bustled with activity, the sellers promoting their wears as others scurried about to and fro on the streets. The sun beat down, casting a fog of humidity that threatened to choke the air from your lungs.

It had been two weeks since the serpent’s attack, and the crew of the Hangman had been stranded in the large port, sequestering themselves to one of the local pubs until repairs to the broken mast were finished.

Jake had been in a foul mood since the encounter, the looming deadline heavy on his mind, and on more than one occasion you had woken up to the sound of his distressed murmurs as he slept beside you. He had flat out refused to leave your side for longer than a few minutes since the attack, anxiety and distress coloring his features every time you looked at him. You knew he feared losing you, you could feel it in the way he held you these days, the end drawing nearer with each passing of the sun across the horizon. But wasn’t it you who should be afraid of losing him? You weren’t the one in danger of falling victim to a curse.

A bothersome fly pulled you from your thoughts, the whining of its movement sparking irritation in your chest. It was too damn hot for the pesky thing to be bothering you. You pulled your hand out from under your chin, swatting at the insect as it flew just out of your reach. It zoomed back towards you, wings fluttering in your face as if to taunt you. An exasperated exhale escaped your lips as you glared daggers at the offending beast.

“You look miserable.”

You turned to see Nat approaching you slowly, a wry smile on her lips as you gave her a tight-lipped smile—an attempt you were sure came out as more of a grimace than an actual smile. You wiped the sweat drenched strand of hair out of your face, offering her a shrug as you turned your attention back to the street outside. She sighed, coming up to sit at the sill beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the different groups of people as they flitted about the street. The silence grew more tense as the time dragged on, and you could tell that Natasha wanted to say something to you. Glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you saw her chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought.

“How’s Mickey today?” You asked her. His screams of agony were still fresh in your mind, the scarlet on his clothes vivid in your mind as he writhed on the decks of the ship. Javy had been the one to stop the blood flow, securing the bandage around Mickey’s thigh tight enough to put a temporary fix to the problem without causing more damage. You watched as Javy and Reuben picked Mickey up on either end, carrying him towards the cabins. Mickey had already passed out, a layer of sweat coating his pallid skin. Nausea roiled in your stomach, your breathing coming out in quick spurts.

You jumped as Jake came up behind you, brushing your hand with his fingertips. Your eyes darted towards him, unease settled deep in your bones.

“Is he going to be okay?” You whispered, looking at the captain for any kind of answer. Jake sucked in a breath, and it occurred to you that you had never seen him look so at a loss.

“I don’t know,” he answered, hanging his head. His hands flexed at his side before balling them into tight fists. You looked from him back towards the sea. The serpent and the British ship were already out of sight as the Hangman limped towards shore. You were sure the men on the other ship were all dead, the serpent’s hunger sated until the next unsuspecting ship made its way into the waters.

“Those men,” you continued, brow furrowing in thought. “The one’s the serpent-”

You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, pressing your lips into a thin line as Jake glanced at you, waiting.

“Are they dead?” You asked, looking back at him. You didn’t know how the curse worked in cases like this. Yes, they could be hurt. You knew that much. But would something like what had just occurred be enough to kill them?

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he dared to look back towards the water.

“I hope so.”

You had reached the port of St. Augustine early the next morning, the cold light of dawn at your backs as each crew member heaved a weary sigh. Reuben had departed the ship as soon as the gangway was in place, running to find a doctor to see after Mickey. The rest of the crew waited around anxiously, some busying themselves with tasks around the ship as everyone waited for news on Mickey’s condition.

“He’s doing a lot better today,” Nat told you, a tired grunt leaving her lips as she settled further back against the wall. You nodded, closing your eyes in a bid to ignore the heat that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still look miserable,” she prodded, earning a less than enthused grunt from you. You sighed, leaning up and stretching out your shoulders.

“I suppose I could be doing better,” you admitted, finally turning your full attention to her. She pressed her lips together, humming in agreement.

“The deadline is only a few days away,” she said, and your heart jumped at the reminder before curling in on itself. Her words were the exact reason you had been keeping to yourself the past week, dread filling you down to your very soul as the days loomed and the dreaded deadline approached faster and faster. The anxiety kept you awake well into the night, clawing at your mind until it was all you could think about. You hadn’t known sleep in days.

“Jake’s been awfully tense,” she pressed. “Rightfully so, I guess. Javy won’t show it, but I know he’s worried too. I can see it in the way he holds his shoulders. He fidgets more than usual too when he’s nervous. I do my best to soothe his worries, and I think he forgets for a little while, but…”

Her voice drifts off to silence, an air of uncertainty surrounding her. You understood what she was feeling. The moments of sleep Jake could get were spent in fitful movements as even his unconscious mind was unable to find peace amongst the chaos. You would curl up closer to him in those moments, resting your head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Fingers would glide up and down his arm, and your presence seemed to calm him enough that he would still, if only for a little while. You asked him early on what he dreamed of in those moments, but his eyes would glaze over as his lips pressed firm, a faraway look in his eyes before he would shake his head and walk away, shoulders hunched as if in defeat.

Bradley didn’t fare much better when you tried talking to him. The usually playful, happy-go-lucky man you knew and loved had all but disappeared. All that was left was a shell of a man who looked and sounded like your brother, but seemed to be a complete stranger to you now in these past days. You had tried talking to him, to get a sense of where his head was at, but much like your captain, no words would leave his lips. He would only stare at you, almost looking through you before turning and walking away.

You felt like you would lose your mind, like the concern and anxiety was building up so completely within you. It reminded you of how your mother once was when your father would leave for his voyages.

She’d pace around the house, busying herself with as many tasks as she could—sometimes repeating them two or three times in a bid to keep her hands busy and mind from drifting towards thoughts of the unimaginable. On more than one occasion, you’d come home to find her staring out towards the water, a faraway look in her eye. You always wondered what she was thinking about in those moments, but now you were sure you knew.

“I don’t think it’s possible to forget the ocean’s secrets,” you replied, focusing once more on the busy street outside. “The ocean will always remind you why it’s not to be crossed.”

Natasha didn’t respond, only looked at you. You didn’t acknowledge her, letting your mind wander to thoughts of what would happen if you all were to fail. Would the curse turn them into mindless monsters? Would the change be immediate? Or would you lose those you hold most dear slowly as their unslaked desire coursed through their veins for eternity?

Your friend heaved a heavy sigh before standing. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but must have thought better of it before turning on her heels and walking away. You wished you could provide her with some kind of comfort, some certainty that things would be okay. But, you could hardly convince yourself of it, let alone another.

The afternoon passed slowly, your vigil by the window continuing on even as the pub filled with sailors and your own crew. Mickey had managed to heal enough to walk, though his usually golden skin still seemed somewhat dull after his experience. The crew drank as if there were no tomorrow, and you supposed there might not be. Locals took up space by the piano, different jigs and tunes ringing out amongst the crowd as several people joined in with lyrics. You wished you could join in the merriment, bring yourself to forget for just one moment that a mere guess wouldn’t decide your fate.

Jake, Bradley, and the rest of your friends sat hunched around one of the tables across from where you sat, none of them able to meet your gaze, and a mixture of anger and loneliness filled you. Is this what your days would look like? Would they go off and leave you behind to face a life of solitude? Would they expect you to forget them?

For another moment, you were reminded once again of your mother, only this time you remembered her as she waited for that last voyage. You could tell that something was different that time, the air more tense as she paced around your home. The song she would hum under her breath the only sound she would make for days. You thought of that song, how lonely and full of despair the words sounded. You thought of how sad your mother always sounded every time she would sing it, and before you even realized, the words were leaving your lips quietly, slowly building to be heard above the hum of conversation filling the room.

“I thought I heard the Old Man say: ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her.’ Tomorrow you will get your pay, and it's time for us to leave her.”

Several heads turned towards you as you sang, your voice clear as you felt the emotion you had worked so hard to keep tamped down swirl within you.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation died down now, and you supposed you would feel self conscious under normal circumstances, but something within you longed to break free and be heard. You had long stayed quiet in fear of upsetting those around you with your own feelings. Of course, you had had your few moments where you couldn’t keep the worries and feelings within you, your fears bursting forth and out of you over the past few months on sea.

“Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ She shipped it green and none went by. And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation had stopped completely at this point, but you were only vaguely aware of your audience. The words themselves haunted you, and you knew how your mother had felt all those years ago. You wondered if she felt the exact moment she had lost your father to the sea.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

Had your father been scared in his final moments? Did the waves tower over him life in the song you now sang? Had he faced the towering waves head on in the way he faced everything in life? Or had looking death in the face been too much for him? Did he think of you? Your mother? Bradley? Or did he lament the things he hadn’t done, the things he had failed to do?

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ No grog allowed and rotten grub. And it's time for us to leave her.”

Several people within the pub now joined in your singing, voices ringing out in unison. For the first time since you started, you dared a look over at the table where the others sat. Remorse colored both Jake and Bradley’s faces, the whisper of tears in their eyes as they watched you. Your heart squeezed so tight, you wondered for a moment if it would burst. You hadn’t meant for the tears to flow, and you were shocked when a cool, night breeze blew in from outside, cooling the trickle that streamed down your cheeks.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You choked on the words, unable to continue as those around you continued on. Your world would change in a few days, and there was nothing you could do about it. For the first time, hope seemed too far out of reach, slipping through your grasp as the realization that you would truly be alone for the first time gripped you tightly, refusing to let go.

“We swear by rote for want of more. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ But now we're through so we'll go on shore. And it's time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You let out a quiet sob as you pushed off from your seat, practically running out of the pub. The door banged against the wall with a loud crack, the echo of laughter and conversation chasing after you into the dark street. Another tune started up, a jollier shanty than the one you had led everyone in, but the joy and merriment found in the pub did not reach you in that moment, despair digging its claws into you as you stalked down the street with no mind to where you were heading.

The world swam around you, blurred by your tears. Your chest and head hurt from how hard you sobbed, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt keep yourself together, to keep yourself whole.

You staggered, coming to a stop next to building, leaning your weight against the sturdy structure as you fought to gain back your composure. A hand landed on your shoulder, ripping you out of your breakdown. You looked up with wet, wide eyes to meet a sea of concerned green.

Jake didn’t hesitate to try and pull you close, moving to wrap his arms around you in a soothing gesture, but you shook your head, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him away. His brow furrowed in confusion, thumb reaching up absentmindedly to wipe away your tears. You jerked away from him, shaking your head more vigorously.

“No,” you croaked, another sob wracking through you.

“Guppy,” he started, taking a step closer to you, but you shoved at him this time.

“No,” you stated more firmly, shooting him an angry, wild look that had him balking. “I don’t want your pity, or your comfort, or anything else you’re trying to bestow upon me. Not when it’ll all be for nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” He sighed out, an edge to his tone. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand as you attempted to stand tall.

“I can’t keep relying on you,” you uttered. “Not when this time in only four days, I won’t have you anymore. I’ll be alone. I’ll have no one except maybe Nat, but even that’s not a guarantee. In a few days' time, you’ll face Davy Jones, and not knowing how that will end, terrifies me.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there and watched you with an indiscernible expression. Finally, he set his jaw and stepped close, pulling you into his arms. A large hand cradled your face, pulling your face up towards his.

“I’m not leaving you, sweet girl,” he said, thumb stroking across your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered in return.

“I do though,” he retorted. “I know everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Even if I’m doomed to live a cursed life, a life where I will never know peace or satisfaction again, it would be a far worse fate to not have you by my side.”

You couldn’t stop the sob that shook you, choosing instead to hide your face against his chest. Jake let out a low hum, smoothing his hand over the back of your head as he rocked you gently until the sobs died down once more.

“Trust me, Guppy,” he murmured, moving his hand to dig something out of his coat. “This will buy us our freedom.”

You turned your head to see him holding up the Soul of Polaris, the gem seeming to glow in the moonlight. You swallowed thickly, watching as it rotated slowly in his hold.

“What does it show you?” You asked quietly, gripping his shirt a little harder in your hands.

“What?” Jake asked, sounding perplexed.

“When I first saw it,” you explained, “the man who had it said that it guided a person to what it was they needed most.”

You turned your head to gaze up at him. “So, what is it that it shows you?”

Jake looked at you for a moment, eyes wide in surprise before he shifted his focus towards the gem. His brow furrowed once more as he pressed his lips together, pondering what he should say.

“We should head back,” he said finally, pocketing the gem once more as he guided you back down the street.

Four days later, the newly repaired Hangman rocked in the ocean waves as it headed up the coast towards North Carolina. The air aboard the ship had grown thick with mounting tension and anxiety, the air so thick you swore you could cut it with one of Bob’s kitchen knives.

The fog that surrounded the waters didn’t help matters, setting a decidedly somber mood as the crew waited for their fates to be decided. Sunset was approaching, something you could tell despite the blanket of fog that hid the sun from view. Jake hadn’t stopped pacing the length of the deck for two hours, and just watching him had you on edge. He had already snapped at three crew members for, admittedly, small infractions, and you were starting to wonder if he’d keep his sanity long enough to see Davy Jones at this point.

“Captain,” Javy called from the helm, face tight with his own anxiety, though his tells were less obvious compared to everyone else’s. Jake’s head snapped up to look at him, back rigid as he paused mid-step.

“We’re here,” Javy announced, dipping his head at his best friend. Jake sucked in a breath, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he blew out, nodding his head as he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nodding more determinedly. “Yeah, alright. Bradshaw, Guppy. You’re with me. Everyone else, stay put until I get back.”

You were shocked that he picked you and Bradley, certain he would have chosen Javy or Natasha. You didn’t say anything as you followed him and Bradley towards one of the lifeboats. Natasha already stood by the railing, waiting for the captain to approach.

“You’re leaving me behind?” She challenged as you all approached, Javy descending the stairs at the same time. Jake raised his chin at her, a grimace pulling on his lips.

“I trust you and Javy to look after the ship while I’m away,” he explained. “But, I still need people I can trust with me—people I can depend on if this goes south. Bradshaw will act as my muscle, and we’ve seen how things react around Guppy.”

Natasha mulled over his words for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Be careful out there,” she implored. “We’ve already had one crew member mangled by something magical.”

Jake shot her a grateful look before turning his attention to Javy who had saddled up behind her. The two shared a silent exchange before clasping their forearms and pulling each other in for a one-armed hug. The two pulled away at the same time, and Javy offered the captain a nod.

“Good luck,” he said. Jake nodded back at him before turning back towards the lifeboat. He let out a long, weary sigh before stepping forward with you and Bradley not far behind.

The fog clung to your skin, giving you the feeling of walking through water as the sand shifted beneath your feet. Jake and Bradley had hauled the boat up out of the water and further onto the beach before the three of you set out to find the spot where Davy Jones would be waiting.

The wind whipped around you, ruffling your clothes and sending a chill down your spine. You ignored it, knowing what lay ahead of you already had a frigid feeling coursing through your veins as the sky began to grow darker. Jake’s pace began to increase as the clock counted down, his hands clenching and unclenching as the three of you continued on.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Bradley asked, peering at the captain from the corner of his eye. Jake’s frown deepened as he shot the brunette a sharp look.

“Yes,” he snapped, stopping suddenly. “This is the place.”

You looked around, noting the cliffs that hung just above your head, the grass swaying in the wind as the waves crashed against the rocky shore. Bradley looked around as Jake stared down at his feet. You perched atop one of the rocks, bringing your knees up to your chin as your attention flickered between the two men.

“Did we miss him?” Bradley prodded, hands in his pockets as he walked around in a circle. “Shouldn’t he be here already?”

“I don’t know Bradshaw,” Jake snapped once more, an irritated glint in his eye. “We didn’t exactly exchange letters on what time to meet.”

A familiar hum prickled at the back of your neck, your back straightening as a knowing feeling overcame you. You twisted your neck to the right, looking down the beach towards the opposite way you came. In the growing shadows and through the fog, a tall figure began to emerge, their coat billowing behind them.

“Look!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet as you pointed a finger at the figure. Jake and Bradley turned to where you gestured, postures alert and on guard as they spotted the figure too. The humming grew in intensity as the figure drew closer, but there was no sense of danger that accompanied it like there had been with Thetis, the sirens, and the serpent. No, in place of danger, there was only the sense of familiarity, and confusion tickled at the back of your mind.

The fog and shadows obscured the figure as it stopped by some rocks a few yards away. You squinted, trying to make out any discernable features, but you couldn’t help but feel you knew the person who stood in front of you. A soft scratch sounded as the figure struck a match, the small flame illuminating his face as he lit the pipe that hung at his lips. Shock coursed through you as you recognized the blue eyes and weathered face that stared back at your group, the embers of tobacco letting out a puff of smoke as he exhaled.

You blinked, not quite believing what you were seeing, and you knew Bradley’s expression must have mirrored your own in that moment.

“Tom?”

A/N: Wooooooooow! I can't believe it's finally here, y'all! What do we think? How are we feeling? What on earth is going to happen next???

It feels so good to finally get this one off my chest, I've been sitting on it for sooooooo long! Like...the amount of times I almost slipped up and told y'all everything is embarrassing, quite frankly.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[winxanity-ii]

IN THE SILENCE

ship: inumaki x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 2.6k a/n: not me beefing with my sis and making comfort fics as a destressor

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You couldn't breathe in that dorm room. Not with the way Jiro's words echoed in your mind like a twisted symphony of your worst fears. "You're overreacting, Y/N. It's not that big of a deal." Her voice had been sharp, cutting through your defenses like a blade.

It left you feeling raw, like your skin had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

So, you did the only thing you could think of—you stormed out, slamming the door behind you with a force that made the walls tremble. You didn't care who heard. Let them.

You needed air, space, something that didn't have her name written all over it.

The night air was cool against your heated skin as you wandered the campus grounds, aimlessly walking with no destination in mind. You just needed to move, to put as much distance between yourself and Jiro as possible.

Each step was a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating fog of doubt she’d wrapped around you.

Was she right? Were you just overreacting?

A part of you—a small, insistent voice at the back of your mind—whispered that maybe she was. Maybe you were just being sensitive, blowing things out of proportion. But another part of you, the part that had walked out of that room, screamed that she was wrong. That you were justified in your feelings.

But which one was real?

You stopped walking, realizing you'd reached the fountain in the center of campus. Its gentle splashing was almost hypnotic, the water sparkling under the soft glow of the nearby lampposts.

You took a seat on the edge, your legs feeling like they couldn't support you anymore.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring into the rippling water, trying to find some sort of clarity in the chaos of your thoughts.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, followed by a soft sniffle. You quickly wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, frustrated that you were even crying in the first place. "Why am I like this?" you muttered to yourself, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was a question you'd asked yourself a thousand times before, and you still didn’t have an answer.

You tilted your head back, looking up at the sky. The night was clear, stars scattered across the inky blackness like diamonds. It was beautiful, but it didn’t bring you the peace you were hoping for.

Instead, it made you feel small, insignificant. Like your problems were nothing compared to the vastness of the universe. But that didn't make them hurt any less.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice when someone sat down next to you. It was only when you felt the slight shift in the bench that you glanced over, startled.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice when someone sat down next to you. It was only when you felt the slight shift in the bench that you glanced over, startled.

A young man was sitting beside you, his presence somehow calm, almost comforting. He wore black sweats and a matching hoodie, the hood pushed down to reveal tousled, silver hair that caught the faint light from the lamppost nearby.

His face was partially obscured by a black mask that covered his mouth, but his eyes were clear, a soft lavender shade that seemed to shimmer under the night sky. They were soft, kind, with a hint of curiosity as he looked at you.

You stared at him for a moment, surprised by his sudden appearance. He didn't say anything, just gave you a small nod, as if acknowledging your presence but not wanting to intrude.

You looked away, back at the sky, feeling oddly self-conscious now that someone else was here.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the only sound the gentle splashing of the fountain.

You wiped at your eyes again, trying to get rid of any evidence of your tears. The last thing you needed was a stranger seeing you like this. But you could still feel his eyes on you, not judging, just...observing.

It was like he was waiting, but you didn't know for what.

You took a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs, and let it out slowly.

The silence between you felt heavy, almost tangible, but not uncomfortable. It was like he was giving you the space you needed, but also letting you know that you weren't alone.

And somehow, that made you feel a little better.

The silence stretched on for several minutes, neither of you saying a word. It was almost surreal, sitting next to a stranger and finding comfort in the quiet presence of someone you didn't know.

But there was something grounding about it, like his calm was seeping into your chaos, soothing the turmoil you'd been drowning in all evening.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He hadn't moved, just sat there, looking up at the sky as if he were admiring the stars.

There was something about his stillness that made you feel like it was okay to just be. To not have to put on a brave face or force yourself to keep it together.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he turned towards you. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sticky note pad and a pen. You watched as he quickly scribbled something down, his handwriting neat and precise, before peeling the note off and holding it out to you.

You hesitated for a moment before taking it, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest second. Your eyes skimmed over the words, and you felt something inside you twist painfully.

You okay?

It was such a simple question, but it shattered the fragile control you’d been holding onto. You stared at the note, the tears you’d fought so hard to keep at bay filling your eyes once more. You shook your head, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you all over again.

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Then, before you knew it, the words started pouring out of you in a rush, as if his silent support had unlocked something inside you. "I don't know. Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm just… crazy or something."

You glanced at him, but he just looked back, his eyes soft, urging you to continue. So you did.

"In the past, I've always been told I was blunt or cold, you know? Like I didn't care about anyone's feelings. And yeah, I was like that, but I didn't know any better. I thought being honest meant being straightforward, even if it hurt people." You took a shaky breath, the words spilling out faster now, almost tripping over themselves. "But then I realized, I realized that my actions, my words—they affect people. So I worked on it. I tried to change, to be more empathetic, more understanding. And it was hard, but I did it. I really thought I did."

You felt the tears slipping down your cheeks, and you wiped them away angrily, frustrated with yourself for being so emotional. "But now... it's like... like it doesn't even matter. It's like karma or something, having to deal with someone like her. One moment, she's my best friend, and the next, it's like she hates me. She says I'm overreacting, that I'm being too sensitive, and maybe I am. But it just… it hurts, you know?"

You looked away, staring at the fountain again, the words still tumbling out. "It's like I can't win. No matter what I do, it's not enough. I try to be better, to do better, but it's like she's always there to remind me that I'm not. And I know she's my friend, but it feels like I'm dorming with a stranger. Someone who knows exactly how to push my buttons and make me feel like I'm the one who's messed up. Maybe I am messed up."

Your shoulders shook as you let out a bitter laugh, more tears streaming down your face. You didn't even try to stop them this time. "Maybe she's right, and I'm just crazy, just some messed-up person who doesn't deserve to be happy. I don't know."

You ran a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling as you tried to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling," you muttered, wiping at your eyes again. "You don't need to hear all this. You probably think I'm a mess."

But the figure didn't move, didn't look away. He just sat there, his eyes never leaving you, listening to every word like it was the most important thing in the world.

He didn't judge or try to tell you that you were wrong or right. He just let you talk, let you spill out all the things you'd been holding in for so long.

By the time you finished, you felt like you'd run a marathon. But there was also a strange sense of relief, like a million bricks had been lifted off your shoulders.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling lighter than you had in weeks, maybe even months.

He reached into his pocket again, pulling out a small packet of tissues. He took one out and handed it to you silently, his eyes still on you, filled with understanding. You took it, your fingers brushing against his again, and mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," as you dabbed at your eyes, trying to clean up the mess you’d made of your face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was back, but it was different now. It wasn't heavy or suffocating. This time it felt warm, almost like a soft blanket wrapping around your shoulders, comforting and safe.

You weren't sure what to say, or if you even needed to say anything at all. The tears had stopped, and with them, some of the ache in your chest had faded too.

You glanced at him again, wanting to express your gratitude, even though words felt inadequate for what he'd just given you—space to be yourself, without judgment.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky but sincere. "For… listening. I really needed that."

He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating your words, then reached for his sticky note pad again. It took him only a moment to jot something down before he peeled the note off and handed it to you.

No big deal.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, the corners of your lips lifting as you read his message. It was so simple, yet it made your heart swell in your chest.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were kind, crinkling slightly at the edges as if he were smiling behind his mask. There was a warmth in them that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You stood up, feeling a little steadier on your feet now. The cool night air brushed against your skin, the fountain's gentle splashing filling the silence.

He stood up as well, and you found yourself looking up at him—way up.

You hadn't realized it before, but he was tall, much taller than you. You barely reached under his chin, your nose almost brushing against the soft fabric of his hoodie as you straightened.

Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the small detail, feeling oddly self-conscious about the height difference. You took a step back, clearing your throat, trying to find the right words to say goodbye. But before you could speak, he raised a hand slowly, hesitantly.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched his movements with wide eyes.

His hand hovered above your head for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not to go through with it.

Then, ever so gently, he placed his hand on top of your head, his touch light and careful, like he was afraid you might break if he applied too much pressure. He gave your head a soft pat, his fingers brushing against your hair before pulling away.

A harsh blush filled your face, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You stared up at him, stunned, your heart skipping a beat.

Here you were, standing in the middle of the campus at night, unable to see his face, yet feeling like he'd just done something incredibly intimate.

It was such a small gesture, but it felt like it meant everything.

You didn't know what to say, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He just watched you, his eyes crinkling again with that invisible smile. There was a softness to his gaze, a gentleness that made your heart flutter in a way that was both confusing and strangely comforting.

"I—um, thank you," you stammered, your voice barely more than a whisper. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, not when his eyes were so warm, so steady. "For everything."

He just nodded, his shoulders rising and falling in a silent laugh, as if he found your flustered state amusing. He scribbled something quickly on his notepad and held it out to you.

You're welcome.

You took the note, your fingers trembling slightly as you read the words. They were simple, straightforward, but there was something about them that made your chest feel tight, like your heart was too big for your ribs to contain. You swallowed hard, looking up at him again.

"I—well, I should go," you said, your voice awkward and unsure. You took a step back, then another, your eyes still locked on his. He didn't move, just watched you with that same quiet expression, his eyes soft and unreadable. "I—um, goodnight."

You turned, your heart racing as you started to walk away, the cool night air feeling like a welcome balm against your flushed skin. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your head, the gentle pressure lingering like a ghost of a touch.

You glanced back over your shoulder, unable to help yourself.

He was still standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, watching you with those steady, kind eyes. He lifted a hand in a small wave, his fingers curling in a silent goodbye.

You waved back, a shy smile tugging at your lips, before turning away again and heading towards your dorm.

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, your heart still fluttering like a trapped bird in your chest. You didn't even know his name, didn't know anything about him, but there was something about him that felt… different.

Like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay. Like maybe you weren't alone after all.

As you reached your dorm, you glanced down at the sticky notes in your hand, the words blurring slightly as tears filled your eyes again. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of something else, something warmer, softer.

Hope, maybe.

You smiled, a real smile, as you tucked the notes carefully into your pocket. Maybe tonight had been terrible, but it had ended with something good. Something unexpected.

And as you climbed the stairs to your room, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again.

And that thought, more than anything, made you feel like things might just turn out okay after all.

A/N: ignore me y'all, im on my period and in my feelings at the moment, just a little senstive. 😭 (p.s tell me why my sister and i made up by the time i finished writing this 💀)

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Dieter gets bitten by The Viper (figuratively)

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 572

Summary: Dieter acquires a new piece of clothing, a rather famous piece of clothing… Inspired by this post

Warnings: mild swearing, mild spicy suggestions, references to Game of Thrones including spoilers that are ten years old, Dieter being Dieter

Check out masterlist here

“Dieter, what did you do?”

The look of guilt on his face was so readable that no amount of Oscar winning acting could hide it.

“Honey cakes, remember this was a charity auction.”

“How much did you end up buying?”

“It was just the one thing.” He put down the box that you somehow only just noticed, possibly you were too distracted by those puppy dog eyes. “And I didn’t go over my intended limit.”

“Well good, I don’t want to have to rethink our already reasonable wedding budget.”

“I did however pay twice the intended target price.”

“What?”

He took off the lid, revealing a stunning gold material embellished with even more golden embroidery.

“It’s a shame I already have my wedding suit because I would love to wear this.”

“Is that…?”

He nodded, “Yup, it’s the robe that handsome guy from Game of Thrones wears.”

You looked at him in surprise, “Dieter, you’ve never seen an episode of Game of Thrones in your life.”

“I tried,” it was like a child trying to be brave. “Everyone said I’d like it because it’s very sexy. But I watched the first five minutes, and it scared the ever-living crap out of me.”

You tried to remember what happened many seasons ago, “Oh yeah, it was pretty scary for you.”

“I know. But people say I say I kind of look like him,” he shrugged. “I don’t know why; I don’t see the resemblance.”

“I see something familiar in the gait.”

He lifted the beautiful robe out of the box, the embroidery shimmering as it moved. “Now honey cakes, I don’t have a robe.”

“You have several bathrobes in various colours.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a fancy one I can just lounge around in feeling spectacularly melodramatic in. Maybe with one of those long-handled cigarillo things.”

“I don’t have a problem with you getting one.”

“Really?”

“Really really. Although those feathers…”

“Yes, the feathers. All the more reason.” He held the robe up against himself. “Don’t you think I’d look good in this? Then we could pretend that…I have no idea, what does he do?”

“He’s a prince who’s bisexual and he spend a lot of time being a big slut.”

Dieter gasped, “Oh my god! He’s me! Does he end up with that dragon queen?”

“No, he doesn’t last the season and dies a very memorable death.”

He gently put the robe back into its box. “Well, we’re not doing that.”

“No, it sort of dampens the mood.”

“Can you be the dragon queen?”

“You think I could pull off being a queen?”

He looked as if he’d just been insulted, “Of course you can be a queen. You’re my queen and I’m your prince.”

“You don’t want to be a king?”

“Nope, quite happy to be the prince that worships his queen.” He started his initial worshiping, starting with your neck.

“Dieter,” you paused his wandering hands. “You can’t wear the robe when you’re doing the worshipping.”

“Fuck no, not with what I paid for it.”

“Just look pretty in it then take it off.”

He smiled, “I can do that.”

Very gently, he led you towards the bedroom, leaving the box on the coffee table.

“Wait, you’re not going to wear it now?”

“Well, we haven’t worked out a roleplay and I really want to get to the worshipping,” he picked you up bridal style. “Dieter horny.”

“Fair enough.”

Lovingly tagging @galaxyedging @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl @cupcakehp @gswizzsstuff @readingiskeepingmegoing

[jelzorz]

25. as a 'yes' for sorpeli (or particular number of your choice)

50 ways to kiss someone (sorpeli edition)

25. As a 'yes'

There are a lot of things they don't talk about.

This has been the arrangement from the beginning. That's the thing about forbidden romances, after all: they're forbidden, and if they're going to happen, they'll happen in secret, and secrecy is an entire language on its own. Soren has grown pretty well used to the stolen glances, the metaphors, the lightest lingering touches, and he knows, and has always known, that this is how it has to be, but that doesn't stop him from wondering. It certainly doesn't stop him from wanting more.

Sometimes he even lets himself dream about it: another, simpler life, like in all those poems he's been reading, where he can sing ballads to his lady and wear her favours on his arm.

That's where the problem lies, really. Opeli is a cleric, not a lady, and it's by virtue of that that she cannot be his.

It's been months of this. Of tea in the early mornings and quiet conversations and excuses to be in the same room. They're in the council chambers now, and everyone has left but them, because Opeli is the one who records the minutes and tidies the documents and actions all the decisions everyone else has made, and Soren thinks it's unfair that she should be left to do it on her own. It's weak as far as excuses go, but it's true, and plausible deniability is their greatest weapon in a situation such as theirs.

She looks troubled today anyway, not that anyone else noticed. She has always been good at pretending she has it all under control. It's only recently that Soren has started to notice the little downturn in the corner of her lips and the faraway look in the icy blue of her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, as he stacks the documents for her and sets them aside.

"Mm," says Opeli. She pauses, her fingers so very close to his. "Everything's fine. My apologies. I've just been... distracted, I think."

Soren raises an eyebrow at her. "Care to share what's been on your mind?"

Opeli says nothing for a moment. She stares at the sky beyond the window, and something about the way she way she sighs reminds him of a bird in a cage looking out at the freedom it doesn't have.

"Do you ever wonder, sometimes, if you made your decision about what to be too young?" she asks at last. She looks at him then, her lips thin, her eyes full of that thing that hangs so heavily between them.

Soren chuckles ruefully. "I dunno," he says. "I think I did a lot when I was younger that I probably shouldn't have. I don't regret any of the decisions I've made recently, though."

"Even still, do you sometimes..." She looks away and inches her fingers towards his without touch them. "Do you sometimes wish things were different?"

The distance between them is so large, so vast, and Soren sets his jaw and crosses it, his fingers very purposefully clasping around hers, his thumb soft over her knuckles. "Yeah," he whispers, bringing them to his lips. "All the time."

They talk no more of it. It's just another thing to add to the list of things they don't say.

[kitten-with-socks]

things i dont understand about cats

1- why do their butts do that wiggly-thing before jumping to literally nowhere

2- how do they stab you when they just sit on you...like, bro? you arent even THAT heavy but it still feels like you just goy impaled by a sword

3- WHY DO THEY START TO SCREAM LIKE A DEMON WHO JUST GOT OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF HELL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT OUT OF THE BLUE

4- why is that little "mprrr?" sound so adorable

[dirt-str1der]

I literally had a dream about reading the worst fan fiction like fucking ever kiryu was just randomly a yandere and nishiki was trying his best to survive also kiryu turned into a dragon (deez nuts) halfway and let nishiki kill him for being a bad boy but he was so upset about having to kill his bro that he just lay in the corpse for a bit and thats when i decided to stop reading and i literally opened tumblr in my dream to complain about how bad it was like the writing went back and forth from being terrible to incredible and i found myself enjoying some parts and despising others. I skipped the first few chapters so i had to tab back out and read the summary like why are they in a beach resort and the summary didnt just tell me nothing but it was also double spaced between each line and very fucking irritating and while reading it i kept thinking this is extremely ooc and boring like they would not fucking say that

[lesbicastagna]

mothers will have vitriol hate towards you for the original sin of being a kid with needs that wasnt always good and that continued to exist during the rough times in their lives and you're just supposed to forgive and forget.

[dyketubbo]

Hi. If you truly wanted not to argue with or be left alone by Dream fans, perhaps considering not main tagging Dream? It's not like you help a victim like Amanda by antagonizing a group of Dream followers by invading their tag. You could tag your posts as anti-Dream and speak with like-minded individuals. Instead you purposely seek out fans. Just comes across as the antics of an immature 17-year-old.

im not purposely seeking out fans dumbass. stop being self centered it isnt about you. i tag dreamwastaken for 1. organization and 2. for the people who have his tag blacklisted. tagging anti-dream may serve the former, but it defeats the purpose of the latter. i dont give a shit about dream fans, if they have to see my posts about how hes a piece of shit then boohoo. theyre fully capable of blocking me. i dont want to engage with dream fans. im not trying to "seek out fans", thats maybe the dumbest fucking way to interpret me saying "hey if youre going through his tag as a fan of his, block me if you dont care to reconsider being a fan of his". but hey. i dont expect dream fans to be able to understand the concept of leaving someone alone if they hate dream. no skin off my nose in the end

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[carebearbussy]

𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 & 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 <3

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your cravings have been going wild.

Ever since you had fallen pregnant by an absolute gargantuan of a man, you are forced to carry twice the amount of nutrients and food stored in your body. The local doctors had recommended that your usual meals be doubled in size, in order to support the extra weight it carried by having a child under Sukuna. And even Sukuna had chimed in, adding that maybe his diet would work for you. But you quickly declined the offer, taking into consideration the life growing inside of you. You did not want your child to grow up to be a cannibalistic monster, much like his father.

But your food choices have been much more bizarre as of lately. Things ranging from huge one course meals that could feed a family of 7, pickled everything, anything covered in cheese, and any regular foods you ate had to be made a specific way, or served in larger portions. Which is why you had decided to wake Sukuna up in the middle of the night, one of the cravings you had pondered on being at the top of your to do list.

Every now and then, your cravings would get really bad. To the point where it was now everybody else's problem. But you truly couldn't help it.

"Kuna, 'Kuna wake up!" You whispered, as you lay spooned beside him. You shook his body from behind you as you spoke, making sure he could hear you. You felt him stretch awake with a low groan, letting you free of his grasp. "Are you awake? Its important..." you ask, awaiting a response out of him. And to your avail, he is awake, but not with the attitude you were initially hoping for. He seemed annoyed that his rest had been interrupted, but those concerns were to be put to rest, as you stepped out of bed, sliding your slippers on by the edge of the bed. He looks at your standing form with half lidded eyes, clearly making the first of many signals of his annoyance with you at the moment.

"What is so important that you wake me from my rest, woman? Im giving you six seconds to speak." He says, as he props himself upwards, sitting at the edge of the bed. With you standing near him, he seizes your hips with his lower set of hands, forcing you into his proximity. "I'm not waiting all day." He ushers you on to speak, but as you think about his possible answer, you start to rethink telling him what you truly want. You look away, clearly starting to get nervous with the attention. But as you do, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look down at him, as he searches for answers. "Go on."

"Well... i've been having cravings lately, and I wanted to know if maybe the kitchen could make me something..." You say, fiddling with your thumbs, as you feel your stomach start to growl lowly. He looks down at your stomach, as you quietly protest his decision to be made. He closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before responding.

"If this is what you really need, then I will indulge this once, brat." He says with a low sigh, as he lets go of his hold on your waist, getting up from his spot on the bed. You look up at him eagerly, silently squealing to yourself as you jump up and down slightly. You wrap your arms around your husbands neck, as you reach up on your tiptoes to pepper kisses all over his defined face. He looks down at your cheerful form, looking unaffected by the attention you give him, but deep down is smiling on the inside. He knows that as long as you stay his sweet, happy wife, then he can get a good nights rest after this.

He picks you up by the back of your thighs, as you are lifted off the ground what seems suddenly. He hoists you on his left side, one hand holding your ass up, the other acting as a back rest. Letting yourself be carried, he opens the door with his right hand, walking into the large hallway to your favorite place since becoming pregnant, the kitchen.

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It seemed as if you had started a national crisis.

With the way you had Uraume, as well as a team of the estates chefs working like dogs in the kitchen. All that could be heard from the upper left wing of the estate was the clinking and clanging of pots and pans, as well as chefs scurrying to prepare the food you had requested. Because it was well known that any request of yours, was to be taken as seriously as if it were from Sukuna.

Uraume seemed to be the only calm one, with them being used to your shenanigans. They were the head of the kitchen, as they lead all of the preparations for the 'big feast', as they like to call it. That big feast being for your pregnant self, of course.

As the kitchen was torn shred by shred trying to prepare you the perfect dish, you stood by the entrance and watched, one hand on your stomach. Standing besides you was Sukuna, with lower arms crossed, as his upper arms conducted the kitchen staff with whats right and wrong. Your eyes lit up with excitement, as you watched all of these people cater to your needs.

"Kuna, how about... chocolate filled dumplings?" You asked, looking up at your focused husband. He was busy keeping an eye on everything, making sure not to mess up your multiple requests you had made in the past twenty minutes. He looks at you with upper set of eyes, his lower ones hyper focused on the kitchen staff.

"That sounds disgusting. But if that is what you wish, so be it." He tells you, scoffing at all of the ridiculous things you had said so far. He then watches as Uraume heads your way, a silver platter in hand, holding what seemed to be at least thirty pieces of bacon, covered in chocolate and sea salt. To any sane person, this would look downright vile. But to you? Sukuna watched as your mouth practically dropped. You squealed in excitement, looking at the dish in hand. "Please enjoy, my lady." Uraume says, still holding out the dish to you as you happily devour it.

But you pause as you look over at Sukuna, still looking down at you. And thats when a lightbulb flicks in your head. You grab a piece of bacon from the tray, as you step in front of Sukuna. He looks down at you, wondering what you're up to, when you reach up on your tippy toes to try and pry open his mouth. "Pleaseeee try it!" You say, pouting your lips, still trying to open his mouth with your fingers. He looks down at you as he furrows his eyebrows, curling his lip upwards. "No, that is repulsive."

Your pout lowers into a full frown, your eyes glossy with the want for him to try what you are offering him. He rolls his eyes, as he picks up the piece of bacon you are holding with two fingers. He looks at it, as he scoffs, swallowing it in one go. "See! Its good right?" You ask him, a smile crossing your face. He looks at you with a 'are you serious?' look, before ruffling your hair, amused with how happy you were that he divulged you.

"It was horrible. Never again are you going to make me do these kinds of things for you, brat."

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[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

[satoruoo]

"you're doing it wrong, baby."

the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.

"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."

in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.

hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.

you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.

his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.

you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.

"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"

another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.

you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.

you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.

"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.

he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.

"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.

satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"

"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.

there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.

you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.

he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.

you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.

"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.

(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)

satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.

"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.

"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."

you were going to be the death of him.

tagging: @sad-darksoul