#anyway hand in hand with that. i’m reminded how much of a jerk he can be agdjdhs

[ectoplasmer]

i love my boyfriend i love my boyfriend so mych he is so soft and warm and comfy and pretty and

[dragonsholygrail]

Puppy bf being a good boy and waiting by the door when you come home from work, his cock already nice and hard. Waiting impatiently he wags his tail so hard it smacks against the wall. Whining about how badly he needs you.

Sending even the slightest signal he’ll be on you before you can blink, his snout nuzzling against your nose as he crowds you against the door so that you can feel the straining bulge in his pants. His hips move on their own as they automatically start grinding against your clothed core.

You protest, trying to at least go to the bedroom, but as soon as your bf gets a whiff of your arousal he’s done for. His nails catching on your clothes and tears them off in one single jerk of his arm. His quickly following.

You cry out, trying to cover yourself up before his hand pins both your wrists above your head. You look at him in shock and he immediately whimpers, bowing his head to you as his hard cock now rocks into your exposed folds. Wanting to be good even as his need consumes him and your arousal drips down onto his length.

“Don’t I deserve your pretty pussy? Haven’t I been good for you?“

His free hand slowly begins to trail down your body, not being able to help but grab fist fulls of your flesh on the way down. You moan softly, head rolling back against the door as he continues his journey until he’s cupping your cunt in his hand. Fingers cheekily running through your glistening folds.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, barely able to talk. Your bf whines louder and dips his fingers inside you just enough to have you jerking in his arms before they leave to swirl around your clit.

“Then please let me fuck you. I’ll do anything! I’ll lick you raw, I’ll make you cum till you pass out, I’ll make you feel better than you ever have before.”

You both know he was going to do all that anyway, but at the desperation in his eyes you know you can’t deny him any longer. And you can’t deny yourself either. Today was stressful and all you want right now is for your bf to pound into you until you’re seeing stars.

All it takes is you hooking your leg around your bf’s waist and his eyes brighten, immediately understanding your signal. Before you can even blink he’s thrusting inside you and he doesn’t stop to let you adjust.

Grunts and moans ring throughout your home and you’re more than certain all the neighbors can hear your bf fucking into you with reckless abandon. The door rattling on its hinges from the sheer power of his cock plunging into your wet heat.

Your bf whines lowly in your ear, nuzzling into the fold of your neck. Slowly turning to a puddle now that he can feel your squishy body back against his and his cock back inside of you.

“Why won’t you touch me? P-please, need your touch. Been forever, do you even love me anymore?” He whines dramatically.

He starts fucking up into you even harder. As if trying to remind you of the sensations that only he’s ever been able to bring out of you. You pant heavily, your eyes clouded with lust to the point you can barely think straight either.

“Baby, you got my hands.”

Your bf looks up and sees his claws still trapping your wrists against the door. His cheeks blaze with pink and he lets you go before hiding into your neck, rocking his hips so his pelvis grinds against your pussy in a silent apology. Your jaw drops, pussy clenching around him and he growls until your hands claw down his back and he calms down.

His length still sliding along your walls at a punishing pace, bringing you closer and closer your release. It’s as if he can sense it, grinding harder against your clit. Wanting to feel you milking his dick more than anything.

“Waited so long for you, to feel your tight pussy sucking my cock back inside you. Felt like years. Missed you so much,” he whimpers, rutting into you furiously like he doesn’t want to leave your cunt for a second.

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere,” you whisper breathlessly in his ear.

With one more thrust you’re coming so hard on his cock that your ears ring. Your pussy clenching down so tightly on his length that he instantly cums right after you. Satisfied growls leaving his chest as you two help work each other through your climaxes.

You sag against him and his hands tighten on your hips, insistent on keeping you close. And he does as he helps take you to your room where he plans to make sure you don’t go anywhere as you’ll be too busy writhing on his thick tongue.

[snaileer]

The Messenger is Already Dead - 4

Part 1 &2 Part 3

“Talia fell in love with Bruce Wayne!?” Danny says, whipping around to the man in question.

Everything starts piecing together like the worst Fruitloop themed puzzle ever. Danny had seen his face when Batman had removed his cowl of course, and it’d looked familiar, but that could have been anything, he never thought- Bruce Wayne!? His biological father, a man who hadn’t even known he existed, who Danny had never known, was Bruce Wayne? The richest man in America?

“You didn’t know?” Tim asks and Danny wants to scream.

He doesn’t, because that would be unassassiny-like and he’s not 100% sure it wouldn’t come out as a wail- but the desire is very much there. It feels like half of his life-view is crumbling before him.

“No, I didn’t know,” Danny starts tersely, “Talia never told us who Batman- who our father was, not until we could beat her in a fight. I… never got the chance.” He winces at the last statement, feeling the way the room goes colder at the reminder.

“Tt, clearly you would not have been able to anyways.”

Danny feels his eyes flare in frustration as he looks back to Damian, “I was a better fighter than you were, it’s not like you were finishing her challenge any earlier than I was, Damian.”

“The tutors may have favored you but it was not the tutors who bested you was it?” Damian snarled back.

“Whoa Damian-“

Memories flickered through Danny’s mind.

A fight. A snowy cliff. Red. Pain. Cold. Darkness. Green-

“Danny, you good there?”

Danny jerked his head up, not realizing he’d curled in on himself, “I’m .. fine.”

“You sure? You kind of… flickered,” Nightwing said, motioning vaguely with his hands, “Like a lightbulb.”

Danny cringed, “It’s one of the side effects of being like, this,” he motioned to himself, “I’m not exactly meant to exist on this plane of existence so sometimes I.. don’t? I guess? I don’t know, ghostly stuff is always pretty hard to explain.”

A “Hn.” Is all that comes from Bruce.

Danny practically feels their stares close in on him like walls.

“Whatever! The ghost stuff doesn’t matter!” He says, throwing his hands up and rising slightly off the ground, “What matters is that Talia is after me and is probably coming after Damian, so you need to figure out how to stop her. I didn’t come to talk, I came for protection.”

Danny takes a second, mimicking a breath and collecting himself. He couldn’t blow up like Danny, not when he had to make them see him as Danyal.

An Al-Ghul shows no weakness. An Al-Ghul shows no weakness.

“Tt. There is no reason to continue to refuse to call her Mother.”

Danny feels his eyes flare as turns back to where Damian stands, still scowling. Just like he always was.

“I’ve already told you, Damian,” He says, restraining the urge to yell that Maddie was his mom not Talia, “She was not a mother to me and I will not pretend she was when she is the reason I am being hunted.”

“She raised us,” Damian says with a scowl.

Danny feels old anger spark in him, “She trained us.”

He remembers cold nights and hard floors, cruel orders and harsher whips.

“She made us stronger,” Damian says with stone in his voice. Danny hates it, hates it because it’s exactly what they were always told. ‘It made them stronger’ but that didn’t save him so what did it matter? Damian and him never did anything but fight, they never saw each other except to fight, so much so that the first time Jazz invited him to dinner he’d thought she’d poisoned it and tried to burn down the kitchen.

Danny hates it. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

He forces himself to let it go. This isn’t him. Not anymore.

Danny turns away from Damian completely, fists still tightly clenched as he looks Bruce- not his father, never his father- in the eye, “Now that you have proof I am who I say, how do we stop Talia?”

Back to business. Just finish this and you can go home.

Bruce turns back to the console, “First, we need to figure out her goals, and where….”

Danny steels himself as Bruce- as Batman-continues. He could do this.

He could pretend to be a ghost of himself for however long it took.

Pretend that he really had died -stayed dead- that day with Damian.

Pretend that he remembered more about his life in the league than he did.

Pretend he wasn’t an entirely different person now.

Pretend like he still knew who he was.

Pretend like every word from Damian’s mouth didn’t pull him back to a time when he was small, too small, but never weak, and-

Yeah, he could totally absolutely do this.

Definitely.

Danny cringes as the butler tells them all that a meal is ready and everyone starts to move away from the darkness of the cave. With every step into the warmly lit lights of the manor above the cave, Danny feels his hackles rise more.

It feels exposed, making him feel like his lies are muddying just by being there, the warmth of the atmosphere, tones of family, grief, growth, loss, suffocating him as he goes deeper. Knowing that he’s part of that, he’s not going to stay, he’s lying to Damian, he’s hurting him, he’s-

Danny gets one step in the dining room before he sees the family dining table sitting there, an ornate chandelier illuminating the plates laid out at each spot, favorite foods in the middle… and two slightly elder ghosts at the head of the table with love in their eyes as they watch the family sit.

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny takes a staggering step back.

He doesn’t belong here.

Damian notices his retreat, mouth opening to speak-

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny turns tail and vanishes, throwing himself back through the ground with intangibility until he reaches the cave. From there he pauses at the entrance they’d come through, turning back instead of running.

The seconds pause is enough time for someone else to notice him.

“Running already?”

Danny lurches, nearly squeaking as he startles and his visibility flickers. He follows the voice to a figure leaning against a slightly dim doorway on the side. An illuminated locker room sits behind him.

“You’re… Jay, right? The Red Hood?”

The man hums and walks closer, “It’s Jason. You’re the new kid. Talia’s huh?”

Danny wants to shrink in on himself, his muscles tightening as he gets closer, “I’m- yeah.”

Jason scoffs, looking up the stairs like he can see straight to the dining room, “God, B and this fucking family…” He turns a critical eye to Danny without moving his head, “What’s got you fleeing so soon? It didn’t look like you were causing any sort of trouble-“

“I just-“ Danny sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t belong here okay? As far as you all know, I’m not even supposed to exist anymore. I doubt you want a dead kid messing up your family, right?”

Something in Jason’s face twitches, his shoulders shifting, “Take it from me, kid… they haven’t even considered that.”

Danny tilts his head, really looking at Jason for the first time, something tickling at the back of his senses.

Jason doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes.

He looks back through the exit tunnel, turning back a second time, “Tell ‘em I’ll be back okay? Just… not now, alright? But I’ll be back.”

And Jason nods, a silent guarantee.

Danny returns it, finally turning and flying full speed through the tunnels until he meets open air.

It feels slightly sticky compared to the coolness of the cave, but Danny simply looks around to get his bearings before turning into the distance with determination.

He doesn’t stop until he sees the shine of a golden globe pass under him. He enters the hotel straight through the walls of the elevator shaft, dropping his ghost from the second he hits carpeted halls.

And then he pauses…

Which room were they in again?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long, as one of the doors gets thrown open moments later by the lumbering figure which can only be his dad.

“Ghost!” Dad says as he bends through the doorway, ghost-finder in his hands as he looks around until finally spotting Danny, “Danno! You’re back!”

The incessant droning of the ghost-finder is overshadowed as Danny struggles to breath around his Dad’s hug, “He..y.., Da..d” He wheezes.

He sees Jazz come bursting out of the hotel room next. She gives him a hard look before they’re both swept into Dad’s arms and practically carried back into the room.

His mom is there, tinkering on a tool Danny himself had helped design a few weeks ago.

His dad, of course, goes straight for the fudge in the mini fridge. Danny steals the remote from Jazz and plops himself down on the bed free of machine scraps.

Even as he has to keep Jazz from smothering him with a hotel pillow, Danny smiles. He feels his shoulders loosen for the first time all night.

This. This is where he belongs.

—

The demon brat’s twin was… something. They hadn’t really had the time to start forming real expectations, but most of them didn’t expect.. a ghost.

Tim can see the way Bruce’s eyes linger on the wafts of snowy hair, aching guilt lining his body whenever Danny’s back is turned even just slightly.

It doesn’t go away as they all file up to a late dinner. By Alfred’s order, they all go, pair by pair trickling up to the dining room like the most awkward yellow brick road ever.

Somewhere in the stilted chaos, Jason manages to slip out from the group, probably the first time he’s left the manor without fighting with Bruce in months.

Of course that hardly matters when the moment they step into the dining room, Danny freezes by the door, flickering again.

Tim watches as his eyes jump across them all, the table, the room, the chairs- Danny steps back and-

Vanishes.

Damian is lurching towards the door, “Danyal!”

But it’s empty. All of them had felt his presence leave, even if they hadn’t realized that’s what it was, suddenly the room is a few degrees warmer and just a bit emptier than before.

Tim looks to Bruce.

They don’t know what that was, why Danny left. Was he just scared? Or could something have happened to him? They didn’t know enough about ghosts, and what they did know said they weren’t very strong. Boston Brand couldn’t interact with the physical world without possessing someone- Danny had already said he wasn’t meant to exist on this plane, had he run out of strength?

Dick approaches Damian still brooding in the doorway, setting a hand on his shoulder- Damian throws it off immediately.

“I am fine,” he snaps, “Danyal is a coward.”

Bruce stands, “Damian, don’t say that-“

“Why shouldn’t I!? What does he have to fear!? He ran away like a coward and left me behind!”

Silence settles in the room.

Tim decides to break it, “Any chance you’re not just talking about him not staying for dinner?”

A knife pierces the wall behind him.

“I will end you, Drake.”

“Master Damian! I do not have enough portraits to continue covering holes in the paneling!” Alfred scolds, standing at the doorway.

Damian stops, glaring at them all before turning to Alfred, “I’ll take my dinner in my room please, Pennyworth.” Then he turns on his heel and strides from the room. It is too fast to be anything but fleeing.

Steph slumps into the chair beside Tim, “Boys are weird.”

Tim scowls, “Oi.”

“I stand by my statement.”

Tags:

@craftgremlin @karlyanalora @theeclecticenquirer @undead-essence @mattybook1987-blog @emergentpanda-blog @nedwec @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @serasvictoria02 @itsloveleo @yjfk @mygood-bitch99 @wolfjackle @xysidhequeen @seraphinedemort @catnek-writing-things @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @tinybrie @raginblastocyst @cyber-geist @icedbluesoul @rosesandsailboats @craftybookworms @dragonimpal67 @capricedshusara @ghostreblogging @treepainting @valiantsuitcaseskellington

Also btw, I’ve added this to my Drabble/oneshot collection on Ao3. It’s under my same Username(snaileer) with work name ‘Things That Could Exist’

Hope you enjoyed!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Best Friends

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x child!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you don’t want to go to school, and the boys are having trouble making you

“NO!”

Dean was out of his bed in a second and bolting towards the library when he heard your scream.

“No, no, no!” You continued, and Dean heart pounded in his ears as he yanked out his gun.

He froze in surprise when he reached the library. Sam was making a desperate attempt to wrestle a sweater on you, and you were fighting him like it was made of acid.

“What…” Dean wasn’t even sure what to ask.

“Dean!” At the sight of the oldest Winchester you finally managed to slip out of Sam’s grasp and ran right to Dean.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked as you latched yourself to his leg, hugging him like your life depended on it.

“She doesn’t want to go to school,” Sam grunted as he followed you over to Dean, reaching down and trying to pry you away.

No!” You screeched, and Sam grimaced as he continued to pull at your hands, trying to unclamp you from Dean’s leg.

“Kid, cut it out,” Dean grunted, leaning down to help Sam. “Just go to school.”

“No!”

“Why not?” Sam sighed.

“I wanna stay with you!” You whined.

“I’m flattered,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “But you’ve gotta go, so just—“

“Got her,” Sam sighed in relief when he finally managed to pry your fingers off Dean’s leg. “Alright brat, let’s get you to school.”

“Brat” was Sam’s occasional nickname for you, and it was normally used ironically, like when he called Dean “jerk”. However, Dean could tell that Sam meant it a little more this morning.

“I don’t want to!” You whined as Sam carried you to the Impala, Dean trailing behind in case you tried anything. It turned out to be a good instinct, because before Sam could buckle you in, he turned for one second to look at Dean, and you took the opportunity to jump out of the car and make a run for the bunker.

“Hey!” Dean lunged for you, but missed.

“Cas!” You yelled suddenly, trying to summon the angel. “Cas I need you!”

“What’s the—“ Cas froze for a moment when he saw the scene; Sam, scooping you into his arms while you yelled and struggled, and Dean doing his best to keep you from kicking and/or biting Sam. “Matter,” he finished lamely, still unsure if he should interfere.

“We’re trying to get her to school,” Sam grunted when you kicked him in the ribs.

“She’s having a bit of a tantrum about it,” Dean added.

“Cas, help!” You cried.

“Can I talk to her?” Cas asked, and all three Winchesters seemed to freeze for a moment.

“Have at it,” Sam shrugged, setting you on the ground but keeping a hand on your shoulder to stop you from running.

“I won’t let her escape,” Cas assured Sam as he knelt in front of you, and Sam stepped back to give you two some space.

“N/N, I thought you liked school. Why don’t you want to go?”

Castiel’s gentle tone calmed you, and your response came out much quieter than your previous ones.

“I wanted to stay here with Sam and Dean,” you sniffled, shuffling on your feet.

“What about your friends at school? Don’t you want to be with them?”

“No.”

Cas was surprised when you started to cry at his question.

“Why not?”

Sam and Dean were both getting impatient, but Cas’s attention was fully on you.

“Be-because Lily’s been sick all week, and she’s my best friend! If she’s not there, then I don’t want to go!”

“And why didn’t you tell Sam and Dean this?” Cas asked.

You just shrugged, still sniffling. “They-they’d make me go anyway.”

“It’s true,” Dean called out.

Cas ignored him, still focusing on you.

“Don’t you have any other friends to play with?”

“No,” you whined, the tears once again streaming down your face. “Everyone else is a butthead.”

Castiel had to bite back a smile at that.

“Do you know who you remind me of?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Me.”

“You?” You sniffled. “How?”

“Well, every time I have to go to heaven, I don’t want to. Just like you don’t want to go to school.”

“Why?”

“Well, because all of my best friends are right here,” Cas smiled. “Sam, and Dean, and of course my favorite little Winchester.” You giggled as Cas poked at your stomach, your tears slowly stopping.

“But you don’t say anything,” you argued.

“Well that’s because I know that I have to go anyway. Even though all the other angels are buttheads.”

You giggled again at Cas’s words.

“I have to go,” Cas continued, still smiling. “Because I have a job to do. And you have a job to do right now; you’ve gotta learn, so you can grow up smart like your big brother Sam.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam elbowed him.

“Oh.” You seemed to ponder Cas’s words for a long moment. “But…will you be here when I come back?”

“Of course, little one,” Cas promised. “I’ll be ready and waiting to see my best friend.”

Your face lit up at this, and the boys relaxed. You wouldn’t fight school anymore, at least not today.

“Cas, can you take me to school today?”

“I don’t think Dean would like me to drive the Impala…” Cas began, but when your lip began to quiver Dean stepped in.

“Just this once, ok?”

“Yay!” You giggled as Cas lifted you into his arms and deposited you into your seat. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes little one?” Cas asked as he buckled you in.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

“Oh yes?” Cas smiled at you.

“Yeah, and Sam, and Dean! You’re all my best friends.”

Cas did something that he rarely did—he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

“Then we’re all very lucky, little one.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [16] - First Step

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some meetings cause rumors.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You didn’t say this enough, but your best friend was a goddamn genius.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful princess in the entire world?” you asked, carrying Alpine in your arms while she purred. “Hm? I think you are!”

Bucky was busy with the coffee maker as you walked into the open kitchen but he had heard you talk to Alpine so he grabbed a coffee cup.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please,” you said, extending your arms to hold Alpine up. Bucky poured coffee into a cup and turned around, but jerked his head back as soon as he came face to face with Alpine.

“Jesus Christ—”

 “Say good morning to my daughter.”

“I thought she was our daughter.”

“I’m a single mom who works two jobs.”

“Not one word of that is true.”

“No, it’s from—” You shook your head slightly. “Whatever. Say good morning!”

Alpine meowed at him as if demanding him to say good morning and Bucky chuckled, then scratched at her head.

“Good morning, little hellspawn.”

“How dare you, she’s an angel!” you said and put Alpine down so that she could go to her food bowl and Bucky handed you your coffee.

“Thanks,” you said and jumped to sit on the kitchen island, crossing your legs and Bucky leaned back to the counter, sipping his coffee.

“So,” he said. “Ready for today?”

You heaved a sigh and nodded your head. “Mm hm.”

“Nervous?”

“I’m never nervous,” you replied way too fast and Bucky shot you a look.

“Charm.”

“It’s just for other people to see,” you said. “It’s not like it’s a real meeting anyway. I’ll see Steve, have a coffee, learn what’s been happening on his territory the last couple of days and come back.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And you know Steve.”

“And I know Steve,” you repeated. “Uh huh.”

“I can go if you don’t feel ready—”

“No, I’m going,” you said. “I’m ready. It’s about time.”

Bucky took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat.

“Do you think your father will shoot me?”

You huffed out a laugh.

“That’s what’s on your mind?”

“Well I didn’t get much sleep last night thanks to you insisting that our little demon—”

“She’s the most precious princess in the world.”

“Yeah, her,” Bucky nodded in the direction of Alpine who was still happily eating her food. “Sleeping in the bed with us, so I’ve had some time to think.”

You waved a hand in the air. “Both of us have been shot at before, don’t act like it’d be something new for you.”

“That is not comforting at all, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He won’t shoot you,” you said. “It would fuck up the truce.”

“Not because I’m his son-in-law?”

“That too,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “But you know, he cares more about the business than he cares about me, so.”

Bucky let out a laugh, but raised his brows when he saw the look on your face.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” he asked and you scoffed.

“Come on,” you said. “He doesn’t trust me with his beloved business, it’s very obvious he likes Ian more than me—”

“Choosing someone as heir is very different than liking them,” Bucky said with a bitter smile. “Trust me, I would know.”

You tilted your head. “George loves you.”

“Oh, he really doesn’t,” he pointed out. “I assure you, he doesn’t. I had a boss growing up, not a father.”

You blinked a couple of times, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip.

“Bucky…”

“He adores Becca though,” Bucky said as if you two were just talking about the weather. “He would die for her, same as Arthur with you.”

“That’s not—have you been to therapy?”

He gave you a confused look. “Why would I go to therapy?”

“Maybe because you didn’t have the best childhood?” you asked and he waved a hand in the air.

“Nah, I don’t need therapy,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“See, I don’t think—”

“But my point is,” he cut you off. “your father has worked for that truce for years, deep down he knows Ian is not the right heir, but he is ready to let him take over and start a war if it means you’ll be away from the business.”

“It’s just to honor my mom,” you replied after a beat. “Has nothing to do with me. If anything, he likes her memory more than he likes me.”

“Either way, it doesn’t sound like he cares more about the truce, does he?” he asked. “I’d say he made his choice between you and the truce years ago. It honestly might be the only thing me and Arthur have in common.”

Your eyes snapped up to his. “How so?”

“Well,” he said, giving you a small smile. “I’d happily sit back and let the whole city catch fire if it meant you would be safe. Fuck the truce.”

You stared at him in silence and he winked at you, then put his cup on the counter.

“Good luck for today!” he called out as he made his way to the bedroom and you let out a breath, then turned your head to look at Alpine who jumped on the counter.

“We’re not falling for that,” you told her. “No we’re not.”

                                                         *

Even you had to admit that Bucky was pretty smart; an official meeting with Steve as the first step of you getting involved in the business made perfect sense. Not only would it show that you had allies, but also it would be a very relaxed, casual meeting for you and him both.

Knowing it was different than feeling it though, because nervousness was pounding through your system as you stepped out of the elevator, and followed his assistant to the waiting area just outside Steve’s office but as soon as you stepped in there, Ian’s head shot up.

“What the…” he said and you smiled at Ryan who was at the corner of the room, and took your seat across from Ian.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said airily and Ian’s frown deepened.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have an appointment.”

“About what?” he asked like a demand and you arched a brow.

“Careful with your fucking tone,” you growled and he scoffed.

“What on earth do you have that would require a meeting with Rogers?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” you stated. “You don’t see me ask you the same question, do you?”

He gritted his teeth, glaring at you but before he could retort, Steve’s door opened and you both turned your heads.

“Hey, sorry for the mix up,” Steve said, leaning against the door frame. “Y/N, come in.���

“Excuse me?” Ian asked as you stood up. “Rogers, I’ve been waiting here for almost half an hour now.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “You know how hierarchy works, Ian.”

“Yeah and I’m here representing my uncle.”

“You don’t have a title yet,” Steve deadpanned, making you purse your lips to hold back your grin while Ryan raised his brows, looking between Steve and Ian. “She is a boss’s wife. Arthur will tell you the same thing, that’s just how the rules are. My hands are tied here. Y/N?”

“It was nice to see you, tell my father I said hi,” you told Ian and walked into Steve’s office before he closed the door. You turned to him with a smile, then took your seat across from his desk.

“So,” you said. “Was there really a mix up, or did you do it on purpose? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll buy you coffee if you did it on purpose.”

He let out a chuckle and took his seat behind his desk.

“As much as I love to piss him off, it really wasn’t on purpose,” he said. “I’ve been on this call with Chicago for over an hour now.”

Your head shot up. “Hm?”

“Yeah which is no use as Bucky and Sam keep telling me,” Steve said. “Chicago doesn’t do business with anyone. Especially this new guy Rhett, he recently took over, basically rules the whole city and—oh, you went to college in Chicago, right? Do you know him?”

You tried to control the smile threatening to pull at your lips, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Just slightly,” you lied through your teeth and Steve nodded his head.

“So yeah he’s definitely not interested,” he said. “I guess some things stay the same even when the king changes. I hoped he would be more open to it than his father, but…”

Well well…

Wasn’t this an interesting piece of information?

“Anyway,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “This is a briefing then?”

“Eh, more like catching up.”

“Will your father shoot me?”

“I swear, sometimes you and Bucky share one braincell,” you pointed out, making him laugh.

“Listen, it’s a valid concern,” he said. “I should know if I should double up the security around here.”

“He won’t, it’d fuck up the truce,” you said. “I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely not going to be happy but…”

Steve hummed. “But it’s better than Ian being the heir.”

“I mean, Ian believes that he is the heir already,” you said. “And he’s not alone in that, many people believe that as well.”

That made him think for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“You know how it goes in the business,” he said. “Half of the people who support him do that because they think there’s no alternative.”

“But there is."

“Exactly.”

You nibbled on your lip, then took a deep breath and leaned back in your seat to shoot him a smile.

“So,” you said. “Shall we?”

                                            *

Your meeting with Steve went very well, and by the time you left there, you were in a wonderful mood. Not even the sight of Ian when you left Steve’s office, so you decided to meet up with Becca and Leila as planned. Apparently Leila would be a bit late, so you and Becca went to your favorite brunch place while you waited for her and ordered drinks.

“So then things are good between you two?” you asked her as the waitress brought your mimosas and she nodded her head fervently.

“It’s amazing between us,” she said. “I mean I was worried she wouldn’t come to the wedding but once she did and we talked…”

“And the car chase?” you asked and she heaved a sigh.

“I mean, it did scare the hell out of her,” she said. “But it has nothing to do with me or our relationship, she says.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“She really is,” Becca said. “How about you and Buck? Did you two get used to being parents yet?”

You let out a laugh.

“We’re getting there,” you said. “Alpine is my little princess, I love her so much already.”

“See? I was right, as always,” Becca said with her nose up in the air while you sipped your drink.

“Yeah yeah…”

“Speaking of parents,” she said. “How pissed off will your dad be?”

“I mean I’m guessing Ian ran off to tell him all about today,” you said, checking your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. “I expect a phone call at the very least but I doubt it’ll just end there, he will want to talk to me face to face.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m meeting Ethan tomorrow, so probably no,” you said, making her raise her brows.

“Oh, has he stopped being so bitter about your marriage?”

You gave her a small smile.

“He was just surprised,” you said. “I get it.”

“You do realize you owe him nothing though?” she asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know,” you said. “It’s just—things were kind of weird between us and I don’t like it.”

“Right,” she said, doubt laced in her tone. “So we’re both going to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you then?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Even if he had feelings for me,” you said. “Nothing could happen between us. I don’t have time to waste on romance, I’m trying to take over a goddamn empire here.”

Becca clicked her tongue before sipping her drink and you licked your lips.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you said. “Before George announced he would retire and Bucky took over, while he was still the heir…What was it like?”

A shadow crossed Becca’s eyes and she huffed out a bitter laugh.

“He wasn’t exactly nice,” she said slowly, making you frown.

“Your dad?”

Becca gave you a sad smile.

“We used to joke about that,” she muttered. “I had a dad. My brother on the other hand had a boss most of the time.”

You blinked a couple of times but before you could ask anything else, Becca’s eyes found someone over your shoulder and a smile lit up her face, making you follow her line of sight.

“Hi there!” Leila said and gave her a kiss, then hugged you as you got up from your seat. “Sorry for being late!”

“No problem at all, we just sat down,” Becca assured her as you all took your seats and Leila turned to you.

“So how’s the honeymoon going?”

You smiled at her, trying to pull yourself together.

“Oh, you know,” you said, clearing your throat and motioning at the waiter. “Madly in love, that sort of thing. Drinks?”

Chapter 17

[elliewithcellie]

Rite of Passage

summary: steve takes care of you after a date gone horribly wrong (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

wc: 2.0k

cw: results of the date which is not described, but understood to be sexual assault, Please use your discretion (marked in the tags so it can be filtered), steve stays platonic, he is the comfort in the hurt/comfort, reader takes a bath, semi-graphic description of injuries, angst but fluff in how steve cares so much for reader. PLEASE let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: this is not for the faint of heart. it has been in the vault since 2022 just as a kind of a coping thing. it's one of the stories i revisit and literally just cry rereading, but maybe it can be helpful to others. this is just one way one can react to this sort of incident. everyone's own reactions are valid, and i love you.

It could happen to anyone. Almost every girl experiences it, some sick rite of passage to prove that you are a woman. To remind you that you are still inferior, second class, an object to be used. Then these women share their stories so nonchalantly, in passing, and in response to their friends’ stories. Some don’t share at all. Some bottle it up and smile through the pain anyway, now nothing behind her once vibrant eyes.

But you never really thought it would happen to you. Not that you were invincible or immune or reckless; it’s just not something that anyone can fully comprehend. You’d been told to smile more. You’d been objectified or ignored. You thought that put you on the list already.

You thought he was a sweet guy. You wished you listened to Steve. You had laughed at his suggestion to “at least bring him back to the apartment.” You were so embarrassed at the thought of making out with some guy while Steve hid in the other room. And you didn’t want your date to know that you lived with another guy. But all that seemed so insignificant now.

You had to walk home. Your teeth chattered in the drizzling rain, your gait slightly wider than usual. You crossed your arms and bit down on your lip hard, a desperate attempt at a distraction. Not a single car passed you on your trek home. The darkness consumed you. The silence betrayed you. With your phone now dead, making it to your apartment was the only hope filling your heart. You prayed that Steve hadn’t waited up for you. You just wanted to be alone.

You fiddled with your keys as you approached the locked door. You didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking. You struggled for a few more moments, begging for the strength to get inside without crying, when the door opened for you.

“Y/N! I’ve been calling you for like an hour! Where have you been?” Steve guided you inside. He attempted to take your jacket from you, but you jerked his hand off of you.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me.” Your voice quivered at the end of your sentence.

Steve lifted his hands and closed the door behind the both of you. “Sorry, I didn’t – I – you’re soaked, hon. Did—did you walk here?”

You nodded. You felt overwhelmed, anger rising to cover your tracks. “Can you just fucking cool it with the questions? My phone died. I walked here. I’m wet 'cause it’s raining. Just—just leave me alone.”

You shoved him out of your way with your shoulder and stormed to your room. You had never acted this way toward him, toward anyone. People knew you to be kind, gentle, and sometimes blunt, but never rude or aggressive. But you felt that part breaking right in front of your eyes. You were confused. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening, that this was happening.

You plugged in your phone. You paced around your room for your phone to light up again. When your phone turned back on, you checked for his number. He had already blocked you.

Your lungs boiled. Your body vibrated with rage. The impulse to scream grew stronger and stronger by the second. So, you did. A guttural, soul-clutching scream escaped your throat. Tears stained your cheeks. You felt your destruction in your hands, transferring the havoc condemned to you to your room. You threw your books, kicked your chair, and flipped your mattress, bawling and yelling through it all. You punched your pillow over and over until hands gathered you in their arms. You fought the arms, but the hold was tight.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Steve. Relax. I’ve got you. You’re ok. You’re safe. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You sank into his touch and wept. Destruction left your body and devolved into devastation. Your body suddenly so heavy, you slumped to your knees, Steve following right behind you and still holding you close.

You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed on the floor of your bedroom. But Steve held you with the same force he did from the very start. He wasn’t going anywhere. You cried until you lost your energy, tears still streaking your face. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore. You were glad that you had Steve to lean on.

“How can I help?” Steve asked. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t process such an open-ended question. It seemed that Steve understood that. “Water is supposed to help relax people. What if I fill up the tub for you? You can rest in there, and I’ll grab some clothes for you. How does that sound?”

You nodded, not yet able to find your voice. Steve gently lifted you up, and the two of you walked to the bathroom.

You sat on the closed toilet as Steve crouched by the tub, testing the water with his hand. When the tub filled, he stood up and headed toward the door. “I’ll leave your clothes by the door, ok?”

He opened the door, and your stomach flipped. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Please, I don—Can you stay?”

Steve’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He closed the door behind him and nodded. “Uh, yeah, ok.”

The two of you sat in silence. You didn’t ask for him not to look. You didn’t start to change. You didn’t move, a haze falling over you. The weight of horror and defeat pulled you down.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Do you—would you like some help?” Steve’s voice shook as if you were made of glass and one misstep would shatter you.

All you could do was nod. You shuffled out of your jacket as Steve untied your shoes and removed your socks, still damp from the rain. He rose to his knees to meet you at eye level. He patted your arm, and you lifted them halfway into the air, as much as you could muster. Steve carefully pulled your shirt over your head, officially crossing a line the two of you never even toed.

And what Steve saw broke his heart. Blue and green bruises in the shape of fingertips wrapped around your neck. More, less cohesive shapes scattered across your chest down to the top of your hip bones where the waistband of your pants sat.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. He sat in observation, conflict brewing within him. The more he looked, the angrier he got. His shame screamed for him to look away, to salvage the friendship you both have and remain a ‘gentleman’. But the true friend in him wanted to document every bruise on your body, to share the knowledge in your pain, and to lighten the load in any way possible. This part fueled him to continue.

“Stand up for me, please.”

You paused. Your heart began to pound, and you found it harder and harder to breathe. You started to feel dizzy.

Steve took your face in his hands and had you look at him. “Breathe. You’re ok. Breathe with me. In…and out.” You matched the rhythm that Steve set and took deep breaths. You collected yourself under Steve’s gaze, but you were still a little overwhelmed.

“I’m here for you, ok? Whatever you need just say it. Need me to turn around, I will. Need me to leave? I can. But I think you need to get cleaned up, ok? You think you can do that? What do you need from me?”

You thought for a moment. Your brain felt jumbled, like crossed wires scrambling messages. Steve sat at your knees patiently while you considered what you wanted.

“Let’s—let’s just get it over with,” you sighed, a dry laugh forced from your diaphragm.

You stood up with what strength you had left, resolving to lean your body weight on Steve’s shoulders as he kneeled beneath you.

He wasted no time in unbuttoning your pants, desperate to not make a scene of it. He glided your pants to your ankles, and you stepped out of them while using Steve to balance. He stood up and guided you into the water. As you stepped in, the dried blood between your thighs sucked the air out of Steve’s lungs. Now he felt dizzy. Now he felt rage. He could only have guessed, but now he was certain. His eyes stung as he blinked back tears.

“I—I’ll be right back,” he said, turning away from you.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna grab those clothes for you. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He tore out of the bathroom, his tears now falling freely. He was gonna kill him. He was gonna kill that man if it was the last thing he did. He paced the halls debating on grabbing his bat. His blood boiled. Steve didn’t know what to do. He stormed into your room but was quickly reminded of the destruction that already took place. His temper cooled back down. You were his priority. You needed his attention. You needed him. He took a deep breath and collected all of your favorite cozy clothes.

He wiped his tears before knocking. A weak ‘come in’ responded. Steve opened the door. You had already begun draining the tub as you reached for your towel from your seated position. Steve grabbed the towel and pulled you up to your feet. He wrapped you up and did what he could to dry you. Then he helped you into your sweats and socks before guiding you to his room.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“Well, your bed is kind of indisposed at the moment,” Steve chuckled. “So, you can sleep here for now, ok? I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” The truth was he planned on cleaning your room and putting it back together. He knew it was late, but a fresh start in the morning was sure to allow things to move forward a little easier, right?

“You don’t have to. I can sleep on the couch; it’s fine.”

“Please, I insist.”

“It’s your bed.”

“Well, then, at least stay with me. I want you comfortable. I want you to get some sleep tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Only if you are.”

“I think I’d like that, actually.” You tried to smile, but you were much too tired.

“Come on, then.” Steve smiled. He held your hand as he led you to his bed. He pulled the covers back, and you slipped in, Steve following close behind.

The room was dark and silent, two things that again began to trouble you. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep your composure. Steve, too, stared up at his ceiling fan, all too conscious of the space between the two of you, hoping you were comfortable, or at least relaxed enough to fall asleep.

“You were right,” you whispered, your lip beginning to quiver.

Steve’s ears perked up. “Huh? What do you mean?” He turned his body to face you, his arm propping up his head.

“You knew he was bad news. I should have listened.”

“No, no. No. You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know. You did nothing wrong. Okay? Look at me. You did nothing wrong.”

You nodded in the dark, the silence continuing to settle around you. You wanted to believe him; you really did. But fragments of memories struck your nerves, all too vivid and all so wrong to be truly convinced.

“Why did this happen to me, Steve?” Your voice broke. Steve pulled you into his chest as you cried for the second time this evening. He stroked your hair as he held you close, failing to keep his own tears at bay.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna keep you safe from now on, you got that? You can count on me.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

The room eventually grew quiet and still, the only sounds the heavy breaths leaving both of you. Steve kept his promise, holding you in his arms and keeping you safe the entire night.

[glorysbox]

hi it’s me elias 🙏🙏 i had an idea for a bot I wanted to make but I thought it would be way better if you wrote it ‼️ because I read the one where you’re in the jeep and… well. ANYWAYS

my idea is basically you and Leon are long distance and you barely see each other except for a few times a year, you barely even get to call because you’re both really busy with work. it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re alone (obviously) but you really miss him. he’s not responding to your calls and it’s worrying you, maybe he’s found someone else?? then you hear knocking at your door and there he is!!!! he’s flown to see you for Valentine’s Day to finally spend time with you again. his intentions aren’t entirely sexual at first, he also just really misses you and wants to make sure you’re okay. but then he quickly realizes what he wants (and what you want.) it’s been SO long since the two of you have had sex. like years and he’s been thinking about it so much like all the damn time

you really don’t have to include all the stuff at the beginning but I just wanted to give you like the backstory ig for my idea so you can write it like. so that it makes sense. i’m really not good at explaining things so I hope this makes sense and also i love your writing

this ended up being so long... i'm sorry. right after i said i would only do 1-2k fics

leon x gn!reader (i wasn't sure if you wanted anything specific so i made it as neutral as possible!) wc: 4.6k... warnings: explicitly 18+, cumming inside, hurt + comfort, Leon's a little bit of a jerk unintentionally, make-up sex

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Leon.

You knew that you'd be alone. That he'd go on missions in foreign countries—dangerous missions—and that you'd be left wondering if he was okay or if he was even alive. But you still started dating him.

Because you love him.

Which is why today of all days is especially difficult for you. It's like the world is taunting you—everywhere you turn, there's an advertisement for Valentine's Day specials or a couple making out on the damn corner or a guy beaming as he walks down the street holding a box of chocolates and flowers in both hands.

You love Leon... but god do you hate Valentine's Day. It's one thing to only see your boyfriend a few times in a year, and it's another to be constantly reminded about just how lonely you are without him. Which is why you're currently sat on your couch, lights off, snuggled under the blanket that he bought you some odd few years ago. It still smells like him.

It's not something you've ever bothered to bring up to him. Just how lonely you are and how you miss him so often—he already has so much on his plate, why add more? That's what you tell yourself. Still, the feelings are starting to bubble over into... uncharted territory. Each time your phone buzzes, you find yourself excitedly grabbing it to see if maybe, for once... he'd call you on Valentine's Day. Or call you at all for that matter.

But he doesn't.

He never has.

He probably never will.

You really don't mean to be so upset about it... you knew what you were getting into. But still... at least one call a week, right? That's what he's promised you.

It's been two.

And it's far from the first time that he's skipped calling you. As much as it pains you to admit, there are more important things that he has to deal with—and as much as you want to be, you're unfortunately low on his priority list.

But again, you deal with it.

Because you love him.

Even if he doesn't always get the chance to call you on your birthday because he's so busy with work. Valentine's Day always goes the same. You're alone. Your boyfriend doesn't call you. You're left to watch the stupid, cheesy romance movies that you wish you could force Leon to watch and cuddle up with him on the couch like a normal couple would.

But... you're not a normal couple. You've long since accepted that... or, tried to. You've tried. Here you are, just as you have been for the past however many years, crying on your sofa as you imagine what could have been. What your relationship could be if Leon didn't have such an intensive job. It's not long before the tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

The guilt eats you alive. You feel bad for wanting to demand some of Leon's attention. You feel bad for even feeling bad, for crying out loud. Even though, if Leon were here right now, you know that he'd comfort you and tell you just how appreciative he is of you for even sticking around for someone like him—a government agent with too much baggage.

"Damn it..." The frustration is evident as you speak to no one in particular—the noise coming out of your mouth more of a pathetic mutter than anything as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. Grabbing the remote, you very quickly turn off the scene in the movie where the two leads were about to confess their love for each other and share a kiss. God, you could use one of those right now. Being without Leon kills you. Not being able to feel his biceps around your body, squeezing the life out of you, kills you. Not being able to wake up next to him and see the way that he smiles when you're the first thing he sees opening his eyes.

It kills you so much, in fact, that as you trudge towards the front door after hearing a few short knocks, that you're not even bothering to mask your sniffles or the fact that you're feeling less than hot right now.

You hate Valentine's Day.

Opening the door with a sigh, you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand—again, not being exactly too mindful of the person who's at your front door. Cluelessness and a lack of situational awareness has always, truly, been your downfall. Of course. It's Leon. Now you're just feeling guilty again—having spent the whole day cursing him out in your mind only for him to show up at your door to surprise you.

"Are you..." You feel a familiar hand cup your face, the warmth of his calloused palm pressing and squishing against your cheek as Leon's fingers press into the soft skin. The sound of plastic wrap crinkling fills your ears; if you were to look up from your feet, you would be able to see the bouquet of flowers. Flowers. For you. From Leon. On Valentine's Day.

A part of you wants to jump into his arms. To plant kisses all over his face. To thank him for even thinking of you, even if what he's done is just the bare minimum. Another part of you just can't help but feel frustrated. Knowing that after this, after the one day that you stay together, he'll be called in to another other-worldly mission that leaves you up at night with knots in your stomach anticipating his next call to know if he's okay.

Leon's touch leaves goosebumps in it's wake. His thumb wipes the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, and then trails down to feel the skin of your neck. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of you.

"You're crying." A statement, more than a question. Your eyes are red, your pretty lips turned into a frown, and your red nose is enough of an indication of the truth. How are you going to get yourself out of this one? You really, really don't want to burden him with your feelings. You're happy, really. He doesn't need anything more on his plate.

"I...'m fine. Really, I'm just..." A sigh escapes your lips. An involuntary one. Looking up finally, you meet his gaze. Leon's icy blue eyes bore into your own, his brows drawn in and a taut frown visible on his lips. "Just was watching a sad movie." He hates to see you upset. Leon knows it's wrong of him to neglect you like this. But to see the effects of what he's done... to say that he feels horribly guilty and responsible would be an understatement. And he is responsible.

"A sad movie on Valentine's Day?" He questions, his tone slightly teasing as you step aside to let him inside of your apartment. Leon takes a deep breath—the scent of your apartment and warmth enveloping him, finally, after months. He always preferred your apartment over his... it feels like home, in his words. "I got you these."

You don't respond as he walks in your apartment like he owns it. You follow him as he makes his way into your kitchen, the silence thick and unbearable and equal parts uncomfortable. You missed him. Badly. And yet, still... you're finding it hard to open up to him right now. Maybe it's the years of bitterness of this specific damn day that are catching up to you. Leon opens your cabinet, taking out one of your mason jars to fill with water and put your hydrangeas in. As much as you want to appreciate them... and his presence, you find it hard.

"Leon, I—"

"I'm sorry." His voice cuts you off before you can continue; his tone low and just as apologetic. The mason jar full of baby blue hydrangeas is cast off to the side of your countertop as he makes his way towards you. The scent of his favorite aftershave (that he only uses to impress you) fills your nostrils as he breaches the distance between the both of you.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. I want to apologize. I need to..." His hands reach, gripping the skin of your forearms as he speaks. Leon sighs after a few moments, one of his hands reaching to run through his dirty blonde hair in a rare display of uncertainty from him. He's not good in these situations. "I haven't been the best." That's... certainly an understatement. And he knows it, too, judging from the look of guilt on his features.

Silence fills the kitchen for a few moments. Leon struggles to find the words that he wants to say—and he does have so many things to tell you. He wants you to know just how much he's missed you. He wants you to know how thankful he is for you always sticking around. He wants you to know how sorry he is for not being the boyfriend he thinks you deserve.

But... Leon was never really that good at expressing himself. Communication is one of his weakest points—he's closed off. Hard to read. But he's trying. Very hard, right now, just for you.

Because Leon loves you.

"I haven't called you. I'm sorry. I've been..." Leon swallows, shaking his head for a moment, as he then lets out a sigh. "There's no excuse. I'm sorry."

Eye contact with Leon is something that you've always savored. He's the kind of man that makes you weak in the knees just from the looks that he gives you. Of course, yes—that extends to this very moment. His eyes are full of so much... love, is it? Appreciation for you? Whatever it is, it's making your face turn redder and your heart beat faster and your hands clammier than they have ever been for the past year.

"I know you're busy, Leon... you don't have to apologize to me." The feeling of his hands running along your arms has you breathing a little quicker than before. "I'm not upset at you for it." You are, though. And he knows it. And he knows that you're just refusing to admit it because you don't want to stress him out any more than he already is, considering the state of his job.

Another long, tense silence fills the room as the both of you struggle to find the words to say. This isn't how he wanted your meeting after God knows how long to go—even though, realistically, after being neglected by him for so long... this was the only possible outcome. Still, he savors the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He savors the pretty color of your eyes and the way you look at him so intensely that it makes his knees weak. Not that he would ever admit that last part.

"I love you. More than you know... I'm sorry." Another apology slips from his lips as he continues to feel the skin of your arms. The way his thumb rubs circles on your shoulder makes you want to explode and melt into putty right then and there. "I want to do better. To show you how much you really mean to me."

"How do you plan to do that?" The question comes out softly; the tone of your voice unconsciously sweet as you find the anger and bitterness seeping out of you by the second. It feels good. He's only touching your arm, and yet, it feels too good. You needed this. He needed this more than you did.

Leon, once more, is not a man very adept at communication. He keeps his feelings bottled up. A defense mechanism—he has to, in the line of work that he's in. What is good at, though, is showing you. You barely register it at first, the feeling of his lips on yours. It's so familiar yet alien at the same time. It's been so, so long.

His lips are soft as they're on your own. Leon's hands gently wrap around your body: one clinging to your upper arm, the other perched right on your waist. His favorite place to touch when you're kissing like this—something you'd nearly forgotten. You respond nearly immediately, almost instinctively, as your lips match his own. The tears that were just falling from your face ten minutes ago are long since forgotten now. He pulls away, much to your dismay.

"I missed you." Leon's lips are back on your own before you can respond; his touch and kiss sweet and soft and loving and essentially everything you've ever wanted for the past however long. He pulls away again, hovering over your lips. "I love you."

"I missed you more." You respond, gripping to pull him closer. He leans in again, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the way you quip back at him. These are the moments that he truly relishes in. Being inside of your warm apartment, feeling your lips on him, being able to touch you all over without having to worry about the constraint of time. Just being with you. If he had his way, it would be like this every day. He'd wake up next to you. Tell you how much you mean to him. Feel you. Every day.

"The thought of you is the only thing that kept me going." Leon says softly, his hands riding up your arms to cup your face in both of his palms. He places one sweet, soft kiss on your lips. Then another. "Knowing that I'd be able to come back to you one day."

The admission has you speechless—you think, at least. It might just be the way he's kissing you, the way he's guiding you closer to him and the way his lips are beginning to move with just the slightest bit more passion. You’re putty in his hands, and he's equally putty in yours.

It's not long before his hands start to... travel. He can't help it. Leon is a disciplined man. His job requires it of him; self control is an aspect of his personality that's saved he and many, many of the other people that he's come to work with. When it comes to you, though, he finds it... particularly hard to keep himself in check. It's evident in his restrained motions against you.

The way his hands flutter to your waist, squeezing the flesh slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to not be able to ignore it's presence. His breath quickens, the warmth fanning over your face as you swear his pupils are blown further than you've ever seen them. He doesn't want you getting the wrong idea, though. He really did just come to give you some flowers and apologize... but it's you.

How can he not want to lose control?

Leon is a very selfless man... times like this, however, he finds himself to become increasingly selfish. "I love you," he repeats, his fingers running along the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers press against the warmth of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as they travel further up your torso. "Let me show you how much I love you."

"In the kitchen?" The question comes out more teasing than angry, the breathlessness of your tone making Leon's grip on your skin tighten. There's no response for a few moments—not because he's ignoring you, but because he's focusing on placing wet, hot kisses on your neck and lining them just below your ear. He knows you're sensitive there. He breaks away from your neck for a few moments.

The way his eyes are trained on your own have your heartbeat quickening even faster; the lack of a response making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You're not even naked, and still he manages to make you feel so exposed under his gaze. One of his hands begin to bunch up your shirt, not enough to fully reveal your body.

You try not to focus on his arms too much—try not to focus on the way the veins line the muscles that he's built over the years. You try not to focus on the protrusion in his pants. His labored breathing. The way that he looks at you.

"In the bed." he uses the hand gripping your shirt to begin to guide you down the hallway. Towards the bedroom.

Leon makes good on his promise of showing his love for you.

It's been too long since you've been with him like this. Back flush against the bed, shirt pulled up just under your chin, his hands roaming all over the soft skin of your body, squeezing on the sensitive flesh of your thighs. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your underwear for a few moments, eyes trained on your reaction as he relishes in the way that you squirm under him.

"Just as sensitive as I remember," he muses, his knuckle applying pressure slightly—a smile on his face as he anticipates your reaction. "It's been too long."

"Mm," You can only hum in response, the sound of your own pulse thrumming in your ears as your body unconsciously reacts to his touch. "Yeah. I missed you."

The two of you have said the phrase at least a dozen times by now—and yet, still, the meaning of it isn't diminished in even the slightest. You missed this. And he missed this more than you could ever even know. So many nights of him staying up late, imagining you pressed up against him. Imagining himself between your thighs.. hands pressed under his pants, eyes screwed shut as he reminisced on the sounds that you'd make.

Leon can't wait anymore.

He's toyed with you enough. Propping himself on his knees, slotted between your legs, he begins to pull at his belt buckle. Your breath is shallow, paused even as you watch him unzip his pants. He uses one hand, tugging on the button as the other reaches for you. Leon's fingertips ghost along the curve of your body, feeling along the swell of your hip, reaching to the indent of your waist. His hand presses into your chest, feeling the flesh below him—his fingertips pinching your nipple and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"Leon—" The sound of his belt and pants crumpling to the floor cut you off. You tremble beneath him, body taut and awaiting his touch. The tips of Leon's ears are pink as he wraps his hand around his shaft, breathing labored as his thumb swipes over the slit of his head—collecting the precum that very freely seeps in need for you.

It's big. Like the rest of him. Big enough that each time you two have sex, he has to press inside you slowly, slow enough so that you could adjust to the size. Still, despite this, he splits you open each time.

He lines himself up. Your thighs wrap around Leon's hips, hands perched on his arm that rests on your own. The blunt tip of his cock presses against you, smearing his precum as your back instinctively arches again upon feeling his touch. Leon's breath is very, very audibly labored.

"You okay?" The worry in his tone is evident as his cock spreads you open, slowly but surely slipping into you. Inch by inch. One hand grips onto the skin of your hip, keeping you in place as his swollen cock splits you open. You can't respond, of course. The way that he bullies his way inside of you leaves you all but breathless, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his forearm. All you can do is nod.

"Good," his eyes on you are full of nothing less than pure adoration, his voice raspy and low and full of desire. "You feel so good already."

You're caged between Leon and the bed. The scent of aftershave and his cologne engulfs you just as much as his body around you does, his lips hovering over yours ever so often as he whispers praises in your ear and tells you just how sweet you look under him and how well you take his cock. It's not long before he's fully sheathed inside of you, the imprint of his cock shaping your insides and filling you completely.

"You feel—" Leon sheathes the rest of his cock inside of you, the last couple inches pulling a drawn out whine from you as you take all of him. A groan escapes Leon's lips, his head hanging low for a few moments as he steadies himself and struggles to adjust to just how good and warm you feel wrapped around him. In the moment of respite, his hands roam up and down your body, dedicating the shape and the curve to his memory as he elicits whimpers from you by rolling the peaks of your nipples between his two fingers.

"Leon... please." He slides his length out of you slowly, a sigh to his voice that compliments the whine you let out at the overwhelming feeling of him slipping in and out of you slowly. He craves this; craves the feeling of you under him, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him, the touch of your lips on his own. His obsession with you encompasses his thoughts every second.

"You're too good to me..." Rasp lines his voice as he looks at you underneath him. The way your hair is a mess, the expression of your face as he presses his cock back inside of you. The sight of your body, bare, for him. And only him. It's hard not to get lost in the feeling of you. The slow pace Leon sets only quickens with each passing moment, his hips snapping against your own as he makes a conscious effort to pull out all the way each time to slam his hips back and press inside of you.

The feeling is unrivaled; the sight of this handsome man—your boyfriend—sighing and groaning on top of you at the feeling of you around him. The way that he's splitting you open—his hips brutally pounding into you with all of the strength that he can muster.

Leon hungrily watches you. He watches the way your eyebrows are raised, the way your eyes roll towards the back of your skull with each particularly hard thrust inside of you. Watches the way your body ripples with each pounding of his cock into you. The way you look up at him, your expression so fucked out and pretty... it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

"C—can't—feels too good, Leon—" Your whines and moans come out in unintelligible babbles as the skin slapping sound reverberates in the small walls of your bedroom. Leon doesn't stop—he can't stop, even. The groans from his throat are low are raspy, each one sending a throb of need throughout your body.

"Fuck," His hands pull at your hips, lifting the bottom half of your body up slightly to better angle his cock as it slams into you. "Feel so fucking good. Needed this." The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust of his hips, the springs of your boxboard even creaking as he fucks you into the mattress. Leon is rough.

But you like it.

You like the underlying tender current in his movements, long for the way his hands pull as you and maneuver you as if you weigh nothing. You like the way you can hear the squelching sounds as he pounds into you. You're sure that he's going to leave little finger-pad shaped bruises on your hips by the time that he's done with you—not that you're actively thinking of it; too busy focusing on the mind-numbing pleasure that your boyfriend gives you as he fucks you harder than he ever has before. It'll be a reminder of the night you've shared together.

The pleasure is too much. It's all-encompassing, making your toes curl as Leon's eyes screw shut in response—head hanging low as he struggles to keep whatever semblance of control that he has left. It always seems to escape him when he's with you. Especially when he's with you like this: buried inside of you, making you remember who you belong to, and pulling those pretty noises out of your mouth that he touches himself to every night he's not with you.

Leon's memorized your body by now. He has to, to survive every night he spends away from you. Every crevice, curve, and every motion that you make. From the way your back is arching, the way that your hands claw at his own—leaving angry red marks—it's clear that you're close. The way that you squeeze around him, leak around him... it's obvious.

"Gonna cum in you," he states, doesn't say—doesn't ask, he tells. "And you're gonna take it all." There's nothing you can do but take it. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all down your neck—drawing back for a moment to place another right on your lips. He swallows up your whines, the noises muffled by his lips spurring him onward. His hips twitch, and stutter—but he keeps the pace. Leon wants to show you how much he loves you, remember?

His hips drive into you, burying his shaft to the hilt inside of you every time. It's almost like a game to him—fucking you as hard as he can—the prize being the sounds you make each time he impales you with his cock. You grip at his hands, pulling on them—pulling on his arms, the sheets below you—anything. Anything to ground you.

He doesn't stop. Even as you're whining his name, babbling about how you're gonna cum, even as you're arching and shaking under him as you cum around him—hard. Your hands and fingers are nothing to the feeling of being filled by him. Leon fucks you through your orgasm, his own voice shaky as he talks you through it. Telling you how beautiful you are. How well you take him. Telling you to keep squeezing his cock like that, because he's so close.

Leon's hips sputter and twitch, his pace faltering as he groans—deep and raspy—his balls squeezing as he empties himself inside of you. He presses his hips into you still, buried to the hilt so that not even a modicum of space separates him from you. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spurt inside of you. You can even feel him shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.

Still buried inside of you, Leon leans down, pressing his body on top of yours as he seeks out your warmth and the comfort of your arms wrapped around him. He almost doesn't want to pull out—and in another act of selfishness, he decides to linger in you for just a few moments. You don't stop him.

A comfortable silence befalls the room. Save for the sounds of your breathing, the room is quiet. It takes a few moments of riding out the aftershocks and gaining your conscience back (since he did fuck it out of you) for you to speak.

"I don't want you to leave." Leon knows that you're always sappy after sex. It's why he spends extra time cuddling you. Reminding you that you're the only one for him. That only you make him feel so much love. Your hands hug him tighter, bringing him even closer down on to you.

"Not leaving." He mutters, voice slightly muffled as his face is buried in the crook of your neck.

That's all you needed to hear.

[hueseok]

18+ | ft. hollywood actor!namjoon

[ 08:02 P.M. ] everything about this screamed bad idea. but you have already begun, and there was no stopping it at this point now that he has already locked you inside his trailer’s small bathroom, sat on the counter with his lips placing wet and languid kisses on the base of your throat. from those actions alone, you’re already trembling beneath his touch, perhaps due to all the weeks you’ve spent lying to yourself that you weren’t sexually attracted to your obnoxious and arrogant co-star, kim namjoon, when in fact you couldn’t even get him off your mind every time you finished a kissing scene.

as soon as the director yells cut and you were back in your trailer, all you could think about was how soft his lips have been, how good he was at kissing you, how his tongue snuck inside your mouth, how he slyly encouraged you to do the same to him, and how his hands squeezed the sides of your body. it was safe to say that after the first time the both of you have kissed on camera, you couldn’t look him straight in the eye unless it was for a take, which you knew namjoon noticed and absolutely reveled in.

“this is wrong,” you whisper, even if you allow him to slide his hands under your shirt, clutching your waist and pulling you towards him in a sudden jerk. “we shouldn’t be—fuck. this is so fucking unprofessional, namjoon.”

he pulls his head back from where he’s nibbling your ear. he’s smirking now, enjoying whatever it was that’s happening at this second. “what’s unprofessional about practicing for a scene?” he asks. “we’re just making sure we nail it before it gets filmed.”

“if that was the case, there should be an intimacy coach with us.”

“we can call her then. let her decide how i’m going to make you feel good tonight.”

“you’re not serious, are you?”

“of course not.” you see him roll his eyes. “unless you like being watched, then maybe i can make an exception for you.”

“i am not some kind of exhibionist.”

“instead, you’re an actress—which is essentially the same thing, right?”

you have the nerve to laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement, but then you feel his hands sliding further under your bra, cupping your tits and kneading them—and your brain short circuits, speechless at the sensation it’s giving you, more so when he closes the distance between your faces and grants you the kiss you can never refrain from indulging in.

you’re reminded that this was wrong again on so many levels. why did you even agree to this? you knew it was already stupid when the proposal of ‘practicing’ the bed scene was offered to you by namjoon, yet you agreed anyway, despite knowing very well that this was just a scheme to get under your pants. you weren’t blind nor oblivious; you were positive that namjoon craved for you as much as you craved for him in between the instances you aren’t acting and playing the part of being lovers. you just didn’t think that he would have the courage to make a move and do something about the sexual tension you shared with each other even when the camera isn’t rolling.

you suck in a deep breath as he goes down on his knees, fingers fumbling on the buttons and zipper of your pants to take it off for you. once he does, you have a harder time regulating your breathing; the sight of him alone with his hair pointing in every direction and his cheeks flushed with anticipation are enough to drive you crazy. not to mention the look he has on his eyes which are hypnotizing as fuck—it’s desperate, seductive, and smug, like he knows that you’ll keep on coming back to him after he’s done with you.

the moment you felt him lick your entrance and push your knees open for him, you’re a goner, throwing your head back and praying to the heavens that nobody thinks of visiting namjoon at his trailer this evening.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Can I ask for a gn! Yuu that has very long hair like atleast that's touch the ground?

No need to do the request do ill wait and

P.s. I love your monster au❤❤❤

Awww, thank you! If I had to say, I think my Monster!AU is my most popular AU so far 😂 It’s just so much fun, and while I love doing the worldbuilding, the wholesome silliness and found family vibes just always get me ;;v;;

Anyway, you most certainly can! I couldn’t help but get flashbacks to my high school years when my best friend would call me Rapunzel because of how long my hair was…and the sheer panic and horror she felt when I came to school one day after getting a haircut and my hair was up to my jaw. Don’t worry, it grew back! I’ve only had it cut that short once, but never again. :V It took three years to get it back down my spine. >.>

So while you asked for a gn!Yuu with long hair (and I’m assuming it’s in Monster!AU), you didn’t necessarily specify any scenario, so I hope you enjoy the random silliness based on my experiences with critters and long hair! >w<

////

When Yuu was finally able to get out of the ceremonial robes and into more comfortable clothes on the first night in Ramshackle, it came as quite a shock to Grim and the ghosts when they unwrapped their hair to the point the tips touched the ground. Given how dirty it was, however, Yuu had to quickly tie up their hair to keep it away from the dust.

“Where did you put all that?!” Grim asked, patting a paw against their hair as they tried to run their fingers through the long strands. “Why is it so long?!”

“Because I wanted it to be long?” Yuu replied with a shrug.

“Oh…do all humans have long hair?”

Despite being a chaotic gremlin in the beginning, Grim is more curious about the length and texture of Yuu’s hair than anything. At some point he realizes just how warm it is and will often be found practically wrapped up in it, snoozing away and just enjoying the comforting scent of their shampoo.

And then there were the monster students.

Hair is not a foreign concept by any means to these monsters, though the fact that there was someone who had hair this long? It reminded so many of those who knew the story of the Sun Kingdom and the princess with long hair who used incantations on a golden flower to bring her lover back from the dead!

“…your hair doesn’t glow, does it?” Ace asked, bouncing Yuu’s hair in his hands as he held it up to see it in the light.

“If it starts glowing, feel free to freak out, because I sure will!”

An issue that they came across, however, was how often the long strands got caught underfoot by monsters near them. More than once did their head jerk back because someone happened to step on it, whether they were trying to stand up or move to another spot. It happened more than once to the point Yuu’s neck started to hurt from the frequency. Such things didn’t go unnoticed by a certain unicorn…

“Honestly, you’re going to ruin your hair and your posture if you keep letting it drag on the floor like a mop,” Vil scolded them, the unicorn’s lion-like tail swishing in agitation as he worked through the newly formed knots.

“I can just put it up in a ponytail or a bun,” Yuu told him. “It’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not! If you’re going to keep your hair this long, then at least do something more presentable and functional to keep it healthy and strong.”

So began the long process of Yuu having to sit through lessons on hair care from Vil. They watched as he worked in the mirror to fashion their hair into new styles, referencing videos he’d watched online and resources for hair that closely fit their own to ensure he knows how to care for and teach Yuu. They listened as he instructed them on how to braid or twist their hair into styles they never even considered, and before long they were walking out of Pomefiore with hair care samples and a long, thick braid that hung at the back of their knees. It was a little heavier than they were used to, but not unmanageable.

It certainly made it easier to dance and run after their friends when a certain gremlin chimera got up to mischief!

When Cheka comes to visit, Yuu can’t help but notice how much he acted like a kitten that they just…couldn’t help but let him play with their hair. It was adorable to watch at first, but—like all things in Twisted Wonderland—something inevitably goes wrong.

“How did he get tangled up in your hair this badly??” Jack asked as he tried to figure out how to unravel the giggling child from their hair.

“Ow…Cheka was just so cute playing, and I only looked away for a second,” Yuu said, their hands on their scalp to keep the tugging at a minimum. “I didn’t think he’d get tangled up like this!”

“Halp!” Grim cried out, squirming around Yuu’s hair as well.

“Ow ow ow ow! Grim, stop! You’re pulling on my scalp!”

“I’m starting to think that human hair is used to trap prey,” Ruggie commented with a snicker, though his fingers were still combing through and untangling the hair quicker and easier than Jack.

After all is said and done, Yuu’s hair is quite fascinating even to Cater’s Magicam followers, leading to some crazy hairstyles and designs to be created (and lots and lots of safe hair dye and hair spray to be used). If Yuu wants to use a rainbow of colors or specific ones for their hair, Vil and Professor Crewel will find ways to help do so without damaging the roots or strands with harsh dyes or bleach!

Straight? Curly? Wavy? Dreadlocks? Afros? Any style and texture of hair a human could have! Imagine the possibilities with styles and colors in a world where Yuu can literally ask someone to use magic to see how something would look! And there wouldn’t be any issue with returning it to normal because magic~!!

Kudos to those of you who are able to confidently dye your hair wonderful colors, I love seeing the hues that can be done ;;v;; I'm too chicken to do it to my own hair, so I live vicariously through seeing others do it. 😃

Anyway, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head! Hope you guys enjoy! >v<

[cer-rata]

Fic WIP: "“No One Majored In Chemistry (snip #2)"

Damian crossed his arms. “Hello, ‘Champion.’ Is this really necessary?”

Billy shook him by his cape. “I swear I will drop you.”

“You think a fall from this height would kill me?”

“Ten stories? Yes?”

“Ha.” Damian pulled his legs up and crossed them in mid-air to make it look like he was casually sitting, and not being dangled over Gotham. “Anyway, you’re doing this wrong, you’re supposed to pose a question before threatening to drop me. You’d have to threaten to drop me anyway of course, but the order of operations is important if you don’t want to look like a complete psycho.”

Billy hissed. “Damian--”

“Now, if you don’t have a question and just desire to jerk me around, well I must remind you that I am in a committed relationship, and just because he’s not around right now, doesn’t mean--”

“WHY DID YOU TELL MY ROOMMATE WHAT MY DEAL WAS!?” 

Damian froze, and the smug smirk awkwardly fell from his face. “Oh. Uh. Listen--”

“MMMHMMM?!”

“It was an…accident?”

“An accident? An accident? How do you explain my entire shtick by accident?!”

Damian winced and looked away. “I was…under the influence…”

Billy stared at him. “...What…?”

“Not like, recreationally, I don’t--Blockbuster threw me into a brick wall hard enough to aggravate the spine thing.”

“What spine thing--”

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I was on a lot of morphine when he came to visit and started talking about his room assignment, and I…I must have just started rambling when he mentioned you by name. I…apologize.”

Billy sighed and picked him up properly (like an infant, because he knew Damian would hate that) and landed on a nearby roof. He set Damian down gently and crossed his arms. “Look…fine. You could have given me a heads up.”

“I could have.” Damian admitted. “I got a little distracted with the murder.”

Billy groaned. It was always some kind of messed up homicide in Gotham. “What murder?”

Damian pulled his mask off and rubbed his eyes. “Conrad’s deceased ex-boyfriend’s mother had her eyes stolen. I…think she was dead before they were removed, but I’m not…entirely sure.” 

Billy’s eyes widened. That sounded like black magic.

“I agree.” Solomon said, “Likely for some kind of cruel augury, or perhaps, more simply due to something those eyes had witnessed.” 

“...Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Um. You know you really can just call me up if you need--”

“No offense, Batson, but wisdom or not, you’re not exactly known for your detective skills.”

“Unless it’s a magic thing, I’m pretty good with those.”

“...A magic thing.”

“I mean, sure, it’s Gotham, maybe there is a weirdo out there stealing eyeballs, but you didn’t say it was a part of a series of murders right?”

“...I didn’t, no.”

“Right, so generally when someone steals an important body part from a seemingly random person, it’s probably for some messed up ritual. Eyes have a lot of significance.”

Damian cursed under his breath. “In retrospect it’s...obvious. I hate you.”

Billy smiled weakly. “Yeah. Um. Listen though I’m sorry, I’m sure this is rough for you personally--”

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain it when he gets back.” Damian muttered, with an uncharacteristic rawness. He blinked a couple of times and raised his mask towards his face like he was about to put it back on, before stopping and letting his hands fall back to his waist.

“...Anyway, um. You’re here about Garth. I suppose I could attempt to rectify my breach of confidence with…an exchange of information?”

Billy watched for a moment. He caught Damian subtly shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he did as a fidget that most people wouldn’t recognize. One of his three visible, rare anxiety responses. He’s really not okay.

“SHAZAM!” Suddenly Billy was at a height with Damian, but much less well built, he couldn’t help but notice that. 

Damian frowned. “What--”

“I can see your eyes, it’s only fair that you can see mine.” 

Damian glared and looked away. “Stop that--”

“Damian--”

“You’re not here about me, so let’s not--”

“Damian--”

“If you’d like to dangle me again over a freeway or something, I think I’d prefer that to--”

He flinched when Billy put his hands on his shoulders. “Yeah, I do want to know what Garth’s deal is, but that can wait a minute. You wanna talk about it?”

“There is no ‘it’ to talk about, and if there were you know I wouldn’t want to.” Damian tried to make it an irritated hiss, but really, he just sounded like he was deflating. 

“Wisdom of Solomon says that if Conrad gets back and finds out that we’ve let you be isolated and sad the whole summer, he will likely start picking us off one-by-one.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows and Damian groaned. 

“Well…well that seems like a you problem--”

“Bro.”

“What do you want me to say!?”

“Something!”

“There is no guarantee that I will say what you want me to say unless--”

Billy pushed him as hard as he could, and Damian did not move in the slightest. They stared at each other for a moment before Billy let out a loud sigh.

Damian giggled, though. “...Really?”

“You’re annoying!”

“Maybe so. Billy there’s nothing you can do, alright? I’m…figuring things out.”

“This is more than just being lonely?”

“Being lonely is easy, I could teach classes on it. You know, apparently Brazil--”

“Then what is it?”

Damian fidgeted. “I’m…poorly acquainted with regret. Usually it’s easy for me to accept reality and move on, often enough that’s all you can do, if suicide is off the table. But…I don’t know. It’s different this time, I suppose. It’s probably because I can’t listen to him babble on about something stupid to make it easier to pretend that he’s alright. It’s hard to sit in silence and try not to realize that in the math of it all, I’ve probably made his life a lot worse. And he loves me for it. Hell, he only keeps the ring because he’s worried that if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to help me if he needs to. Now he’s off in space in some bootcamp run by crazy alien amazons, agonizing because he wants to be better for me. It’s sick.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate, and I don’t think you actually believe he’d be happier without you in his life.”

Damian ran a hand through his hair, getting gel on his glove in the process. “The entire point of all of this is that we do this work so other people don’t have to. I could have been in his life without letting him throw himself into the crossfire! I didn’t…I couldn’t conceptualize a relationship with someone on the outside, I think. I was uncomfortable with having to be a regular person around him, so I took the first opportunity to pull him in.”

Billy slid his hands up Damian’s shoulders and cupped his cheeks, appreciating Damian not biting him for it. 

“He’s allowed to make his own choices, even if those choices are hard for him, even if they make you happy.”

Damian’s lips twisted. “...He said he thought it was wrong for people to train me to live like I do, that I could be more, that I could make other choices, that I could move on. He believes it enough that he was willing to die to give me the chance to try. He doesn’t get the irony. Idiot.”

Billy looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. “It was kind of messed up to make me the Champion.” He said, looking back into Damian’s eyes, noting the surprise there. “I was a little kid, in a bad place without a lot of options. I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to, how could I? It made a lot of things…hard. Really hard. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t make a choice like that on a whim, you know? But I still wouldn’t take it back, even thinking about how…how long I’m going to be doing this, or the terrible things I’ve seen, or the awful secrets I know. To me, it’s worth it, because I can say that I, William Batson--”

“Ew--”

“Shut up! I can say that I’ve made some stuff better for other people. People who needed me, people I care about. It’s a gift delivered badly. So he’s right: It IS messed up that we didn’t get to choose. But he did, and he did it out of love. You can’t take that away from him, you just have to accept it, and accept that it’s okay that he picked you to be his person. Because it is. He thinks I’m cute, so clearly his taste has to be fairly decent.”

Damian shut his eyes and shook his head, laughing. “You’re a damn fool.”

“And not a psychic, so you need to, you know, text a guy. Okay? No one wants you to turn into your dad.”

“Wooooow.”

“Sorry.”

Damian snorted. “Alright, you either get a hug or I give you some background on Garth, you do not get both.”

He clearly did not expect Billy to go for the hug.

Which was probably why Billy felt his chest heave a little, and his throat made a weird little noise that one could perhaps describe as a sob.

[filmbyjy]

How hyung line would look after you on your period ?

a/n: oh actually I’ve done one with the whole group before but since this is only for the hyung line, it’s going to be a new one! also it’s great to know i’m currently on my period as I started writing this🧌currently dying👍🏻

WARNING: since it is the hyung line, i'm making it more suggestive than usual. why? bc these four have me on chokehold. which also means minors please do not interact. mentions about giving head. mentions of makeout. i'm putting this in the smut tag only bc i realise the more i write, the more i want to go further😀.

enhypen reacts [hyung line]: taking care of you during your period

— placing this in case the read more messes up —

❦ heeseung

oh lee heeseung…holding back myself bc i may pounce

but anyways, i've said in my other post with the whole group, heeseung would definitely be sweet

he buys you pads whenever you run out (with addition of him being terrified by the heaps of pads and tampons in that section)

helps make tea (or coffee but i'm more of tea girl) when you feel in pain.

helps you distract from your cramps by making you laugh

he still that sweet boyfriend but...

his patience is at the low when he's getting hot and heavy.

i mentioned that heeseung now uses kisses to make you feel better whenever you are having cramps.

and when those kisses get carried away, you bet your asses you will be laid back onto the couch as heeseung hovers over you.

and he would get annoyed if your cramps interrupt his kissing session with you.

if it escalates even further, you have to stop him and remind him that you are on your period.

to which, he groans

"i just want to give you some love. why does mother nature have to come at the worst timing." he complains.

oh lee heeseung, you wished god never made women suffer with periods every month but there was no choice.

so to suffice heeseung's lust, you umm well offer him to give him head.

and yes, he agreed bc who wouldn't want to receive head from their significant other.

❦ jay

okay so i've mentioned before that since jay is an only child, he wouldn't know much about periods and stuff

after all, the only womanly figure around him is his mom.

however, he does quickly learn how to handle these sorts of things bc well he is simply park jongseong.

and once he becomes a pro at it then yay! happy girlfriend = happy jay

now for the suggestive part...

jay, to put it quite frankly, has a high sex drive. i won't lie

but he is a patient man so he will wait

however, not when you've been teasing him.

you've gotten more horknee during your period and like you have a hunk of a boyfriend

how are you not supposed to tease him

your kisses always lingered on him and it makes him want to swoop you in and kiss you hard

but he knows he shouldn't

"love, we shouldn't." jay says.

"but i just want to kiss you."

"if i kiss you, i won't be able to control myself."

but of course, you kissed him.

it ends with you and him having clothed sex and yes, it was the hottest thing you've done with jay.

❦ jake

i've mentioned that jake has 'golden retriever' energy

and it's true he does

he would be a good boy and run around helping you whenever he needs to

bc he loves you

which does make him sound like a total simp, which he is. however, do you wear the pants in the relationship?

unfortunately, you don't bc although jake is all 'happy puppy', he can turn into a total menace with you.

tbh, he hates whenever you have your period. sure he takes care of you and whatever.

but to him, a period is like cockblocker

he can't have sex with you

and we all can tell that he has a high sex drive (read: scorpio sign staring right back at you)

so like whenever, it's that time of the month...jake has no choice but to either jerk off or be holy and not touch himself

if he decides to stay holy is bc he would rather feel you than use his hands.

however, if he can't wait then his right hand will be of use.

❦ sunghoon

i didn't mention much in hoon's side bc it was just crack

and honestly, it's true

sunghoon just wants to liven up the mood bc he knows it probably hurts

or well you told him how much it hurts

sunghoon doesn't enjoy seeing you in pain so he opts to make you smile

or well...see you flustered

sunghoon likes to also tease you during your period

why? bc you can't do anything about it

little does he know, your hormones go way worse when it's that time of the month.

he will trap you against a wall, lean down to nearly kiss your lips and then pulling away.

you hate it but you also loved it bc god you loved the tension whenever it happens.

finally, you cracked. you wrapped your arms around sunghoon's neck and kissed him. he wasn't fazed by it since he wanted this too.

it escalates further, you were in the bedroom. straddling sunghoon's lap still kissing him and grinding down on him.

sunghoon knows this should stop but he drunk off the feeling, it had been a long time (it was only 2-3 days).

you had ended it off by giving him head and he helped you out by letting you ride his thigh.

[izvmimi]

prompt 44 - list here

cw: none. fluff.

As you return, arms loaded with grocery bags from your Saturday morning errands, you come to realize a huge jerk stands at your doorstep.

Before you can divert your path, he turns sharply, as though he can sense your very existence - perhaps soulmates are real - and there's a moment of hesitation as he decides on his next move. From the look of him, neatly dressed and with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other, you can tell that he's meant to apologize. The furrow in his brow and the slight tinge of pink on the apples of his cheeks make it clear that he's not exactly sure how.

"babe-" He starts.

You frown and walk towards him, then past him and he moves out of your way politely as you unlock your apartment door.

"Go home," you say as sternly yet politely as possible.

He groans. If not for the full hands, he'd bury his face in them dramatically. Instead he settles for shifting his tokens of apology to one arm and reaching for the groceries you've tried to balance on your hip as you fumble with your keys.

"Just... let me help you, okay? please."

He does manage to get the groceries out of your hands as the door swings open, but you weren't trying very hard anyway. As he follows you in, taking off his shoes right after you do, he sets everything on the kitchen counter, rubbing his hands in a plea.

"I didn't mean it, i promise."

"Katsuki, you were pretty loud and clear," you say, turning to him. A hand is placed impatiently on your hip and you look just about done with him...

until you realize he's on his knees.

Your eyes widen and you find yourself looking around, embarrassed, as though it weren't just the two of you in your boring college apartment and a man as proud as Katsuki Bakugou groveling for your mercy.

"I care about hero stuff, but I care about you. Please forgive me."

"You stood me up, and no one was actively dying," you remind him.

"I was wrong and I'll never do it again." He looks at you in earnest, and his eyes are red, and you wonder if it's just his irises or if he's about to cry.

Something actually compels you to laugh and you finally give up. You take your boyfriend's hand and pull him to his feet - he rises hesitantly as if he's not sure he should still be begging - and you flick him on the nose.

"It's been one day. One day." you remind him, giggling. He hugs you quickly and tightly, and takes a moment to let go.

"I need my good night texts," he says through his teeth, embarrassed to admit it. "And the good morning ones."

You pull back and laugh at him again, mirthfully, and he rolls his eyes at you, before picking up the flowers and shoving them in your direction bashfully. You take them gladly.

"Listen."

He takes both of your hands in his and you pretend to be upset, but really you are not, because you can tell he's much more distraught than you were. You'd never really intended on breaking up with him anyway. Situations come up as they do, and not every fight signals the end.

“I do love you, you know. Even if I’m shit at showing it.”

"I know, Katsuki," you reply, accepting his apology with a kiss.

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Shapeshifting Detective - Part 8

cw: parental death, grief, referenced murder, police brutality, slow burn, more tags will be added as the story continues

male shapeshifter x fem character

word count: 3k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 (Final Part)

Kate had no idea how long she’d been in here or if the others had been taken into custody. She’d been waiting for hours, locked away in a room with no windows, no clock, no way of telling the time at all. 

Her wrists were sore. Her brain kept circling back to it over and over again. They were unbearably sore, both of them shackled to the table to prevent her from running off. They were irritating at first but after a while, she came to appreciate them, their unyielding weight helping to keep her present. 

She didn’t know what was happening or how long it had been or what would come of her but she knew her wrists were sore. 

Eventually, even they were not enough. She’d been able to stomach a lot in the last days, but sitting still and alone was not one of them. 

She had nothing to throw herself at, no justice to find. She was just here. Alone, in a room, waiting for the dust to settle. Waiting to see how she would come out of this. If she would come out of this. 

The creak of the door pulled her back to herself and her head jerked up to find whoever had come to break the infernal silence. 

When he entered the room she felt like she could breathe again. Her detective walked up to the table she was chained to and suddenly everything was going to be alright. 

“Harvey,” she said, a swell of relief filling her chest. 

When their eyes met she realized her mistake. “A bit familiar, don’t you think miss? Wonder where you picked up that habit?”

It wasn’t her detective at all. 

His dishevelment told a different story than the one she was used to. Gone was the man who just didn’t quite fit his clothes despite having shaped himself to belong in them, always sitting slightly askew with his wild hair and off-center tie. 

No, this man looked like he’d walked through hell, eyes bloodshot and his stubble growing unruly. 

She had no idea how much he knew about the situation, how much he’d been told about his mysterious doppelganger. The vitriol present on his face said he probably knew more than was good for her. 

He leaned over the table, looming over her, and Kate did her best to pull away with her hands chained, tethering her down. 

“I don’t know you,” she spat out, incapable of feigning demure answers despite knowing it was undeniably in her best interest. 

“Really? That’s odd, some people at the station say we’ve gotten quite close. Congratulated me on latching onto the killer so fast. Wasn’t that clever of me? How did I find you out so quickly, I wonder?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then why did you confess to it.”

Of course he believed her mother. She certainly hadn’t done much to earn any trust with him. It stung anyway. “I didn’t. She’s lying.”

“Now now. Your mother is an upstanding woman, I don’t think she would lie to me. And you…” He grabbed her chin and tilted her head to the side, as if to inspect her. She reeled back, pulling herself from his grip, a movement he seemed to find amusing. “Well, I suppose what I think about you depends on how well we know each other. What do you say, Katherine, do we know each other or not?”

He spat her name at her like it was poison. It might as well have been. 

“You’ve questioned me a few times, that’s all.”

“Oh, just a few. I only remember us speaking once but perhaps I’m misremembering. Maybe I wrote it down somewhere. I did find some very interesting notes about you in my office. They were very complimentary, seemed like we’d spoken quite a lot. Can you remind me if that’s true?”

“It was a couple times. That’s all.”

“Consistent. Smart, you shouldn’t be changing your story.”

“You can’t do this,” she insisted. She knew he could, though. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He could do whatever he liked. Who would stop him?

“I promise you I can. You know what I find odd? The way you looked at me when I walked in here. You didn’t look at me like the prime suspect in a murder case who’d only spoken to me a few times. Who were those big, hopeful eyes for? Because I know one thing for damn sure, they weren’t meant for me.”

“You’re insane,” she hissed at him.

His hand snapped up faster than she could track and then her head was being slammed forward into the table in front of her, the world spinning as she pulled back. 

“I’m going to get the truth out of you one way or another,” he snarled. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she sobbed out.

“Maybe you didn’t. At this point, I don’t really give a shit. What was that thing? Are you one of them?”

“I don’t know anything,” she said through gritted teeth. There was no getting out of this, she could see that now. 

“Yes, you do. You’re on its side, the only thing I don’t know is if you’re a piece of shit turncoat human or one of those monsters.”

The door opened and a man you didn’t recognize walked in. Harvey snapped to look at him, snarling out an impatient, “What do you want?”

The newcomer was some other police officer, his hat not quite facing forwards properly and his jacket buttoned up just one button off. 

“Someone wants to see you,” the newcomer said.

“I’m a little fucking busy, actually.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, and faster than either of them could react, he slammed Harvey forward, throwing everything he had into banging his head into the table. 

It knocked him out cold, his body sliding unceremoniously to the floor as Vincent rushed over to her side, a frantic look in his eyes. 

“Evelyn is in the other room,” he said, speaking as fast as he could get the words out. “They started poking around and we couldn’t make them leave. They were gonna find them either way.” He gestured down at the unconscious man below him. “I just untied them and told them no one would believe them, seemed like the best option at the time.”

She tried to move forward, into his space, the shackles stopping her unbecoming display of desperate affection before it could even really begin. 

He seemed unaffected by Kate coming to her senses about the action, wrapping an arm around her and holding her tight to his side. “Let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, and she could feel his chest moving as he spoke. “I don’t want to- Oh my god, are you bleeding?”

He reached for her instantly, his hand cradling her cheek as the other rose to wipe at a drop of blood she hadn’t even noticed, the viscous liquid spreading across her skin. 

He immediately reached for his pockets, muttering angrily under his breath. 

Upon finding nothing he began rooting around in Harvey’s pockets, pulling out both a handkerchief and a key ring victoriously. 

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised, pressing the handkerchief gently to her wound, cleaning it as best he could before beginning to try the first of many keys. “Just hold on a minute.”

“What are we going to tell them?” she asked as he tried key after key, looking warily out towards the rest of the station. 

“You’ll see. I just have to wait for…”

Before he could finish his sentence, all hell broke loose, the sounds of yelling and rushing about filtering through the door. 

“What is that?”

“Our cue.” He said, trying keys as quickly as he could, a slight shake to his hands as he did. Finally, one clicked into place and the cuffs snapped open. 

Kate stood, rubbing her wrists and Vincent gave her a nervous look. “You may want to turn around.”

The words echoed in her ears and before she could really register them, he was changing. The horrible snapping of his bones accompanied itself with the creation of new angles where they shouldn’t be. 

The cracking and shifting noises were drowned out by the noises of chaos that were slowly filling the building, but it did nothing to stop them from reaching her ears. 

She wondered why he had to shift like this. Surely there were more efficient ways to travel from one body to another. Human bodies weren’t that different, seemingly creating a new set of bones and tissues for every one seemed horribly inefficient. 

She thought, perhaps belatedly, that she should be scared. Or at the very least, horrified. And yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to be. 

It hadn’t even really occurred to her, to be honest. Perhaps some of it was due to her current, exhausted, sluggish state. She just hadn’t thought of it, hadn’t considered being afraid. 

Why would she be, asked a little voice in the back of her head. It was just Vincent. 

Instead, bubbling up, slower than they should have, were other feelings. Relief, gratitude, but nothing resembling the revulsion she was sure should be present. 

As he transformed, she was lost in thought completely, busier mulling over the situation than actually watching the seemingly possible transformation. 

He winced at her as soon as he had enough of a face to wince with. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Vincent looked more scared than she did, staring at her as if at any moment she might scream and run, never to be seen again. 

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It didn’t feel like one, like anything close to being either reassuring or a smile, but he seemed to understand the meaning, giving her a quiet, sweet smile back. 

And then he held out his hand, as if to escort her out of the room. She took it and he led her into the chaos. 

Evelyn seemed to be at the epicenter of it all, shouting and throwing things around the station. No one really seemed to know what to do with themselves, trying to calm her while simultaneously acting like if they got too close they might spontaneously combust. 

As she watched the chaos unfold, the comfortable weight at her side disappeared and suddenly she felt very exposed. 

She glanced around nervously and saw Daniel sitting in the corner, a distant look in his eyes. He seemed like he’d be less of a problem than Harvey had been. 

Evelyn drifted over to her and pulled Kate towards her. She went with little protest, leaning into the woman as she was guided to her side. She was the only other person left who didn’t want her locked up, now that Vincent had made himself scarce. There were worse people’s arms to be clinging to. 

As Evelyn argued and Kate stood, unlistening, at her side, she saw Vincent dart back into the interrogation room and she did her best to avoid looking at the door again, keeping as much attention away from there as much as possible. 

She heard the door creak once more but kept her eyes adamantly forward, tensing up even more at the noise. She imagined no one could tell, it was hard to look more tense than she’d already been. 

She heard Evelyn slam her hand down on the table beside her, hard, and guessed someone’s attention had drifted a little too far. 

Kate should be paying more attention, should be helping more with this plan she wasn’t privy to. She just couldn’t draw herself back into the present. It had been too much, she was too tired. 

And then, storming through the doors of the police station with a bang, was her mother. 

Now she was aware of everything, pulling away from her and further back toward Evelyn. 

An arm snaked around her waist and she was grateful for it, grateful for the reminder that at least someone here was on her side, even if it was more for Vincent’s sake than for hers. 

“Why is she free?” her mother asked, looking around frantically, looking more confused than angry, despite the way she’d entered. 

The policemen around her seemed just as confused as to why Kate was standing amongst them, looking around for someone with an explanation and finding no one. You hoped Vincent would be back soon. You had a feeling you’d be thrown right back into the interrogation room if he wasn’t. 

“She killed him,” Kate insisted quietly, sounding unconvincing even to herself. 

Her mother took a step forward and she couldn’t help but flinch. At that, her mother paused, shifting back once more and keeping her distance. 

“You can’t fool them. They know the truth, they believe me.” Her voice sounded strained and distant and Kate couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was just her mind going. Nothing seemed to quite make sense anymore. 

“They do,” she said, slumping further into Evelyn’s side. The woman took her weight without protest, giving her side a little squeeze that she couldn't make sense of. 

“Of course they do! I am a well-respected woman. And who are you? Unmarried, unsociable, why would they believe you?” The words were careful, intentional, but not how they normally were. There was no tact behind them, not really. 

As she yelled at Kate, restrained and unnoticing of the people watching, it occurred to her that this was not, in fact, her mother. Her mother would never make a scene like this and if she did, if she really snapped like she was supposedly doing right now, she would not keep her distance and try her best to avoid frightening Kate. 

Because that’s what she was doing, stepping away, keeping from shouting too loud, keeping the blame from Kate's shoulders as best she could. It was a show, one calculated to harm her as little as possible while revealing the truth to some closed-minded police officers. 

But Vincent was struggling, struggling to make it natural and believable, so she threw him a bone. 

“You can’t fool me,” Kate said loudly, having no problem making it believable. Maybe she should give Vincent some lessons when this was all over. “They’ll see it soon too. I know you killed him.”

“And I would’ve killed you too if I knew how much trouble you’d cause me,” she said with a scoff. 

And then her eyes widened, looking around at where she was, her breath catching in her chest before she turned tail and ran. 

Everyone was too shocked to stop her, quick orders to chase her down being shouted amidst the chaos. 

Most of the officers left, starting the search efforts. Those who remained didn’t seem to know what else to do with Kate, milling around her awkwardly. 

“What are you doing?” Evelyn snapped. “You heard the woman, she’s innocent, don’t you have better things to be doing than terrorizing this poor girl any further.”

They didn’t seem fully convinced but they seemed more frightened of Evelyn than they were wary of Kate. 

She wondered what it would take for them to fully be done with her, be entirely convinced of her innocence. She imagined there was very little at this point. She’d already messed up too badly, broken too many rules. That crime she was guilty of and so they were convinced that something must be wrong. 

She couldn’t bring herself to care any longer. There was no anger left in her. 

Evelyn began to pull her towards the door and she followed like a well-drilled pup. 

Harvey passed them as they attempted to flee and she knew instantly that it was her detective. She was so much better at seeing it now, at recognizing it, even as distant as she felt. 

He smiled at her and then turned towards the rest of the precinct. 

“And that concludes this case. My apologies for keeping this from you, but I felt the ruse was necessary to find the truth. The lovely Miss Katherine here was willing to help, once she heard my plan. Her intention, of course, was to clear her mother of any suspicion. When we cornered her, she told a different tale. I just needed time to settle the case. Fortunately, she seemed set on doing it for me,” he finished with a put-on laugh.

She heard Evelyn sigh beside her and mutter under her breath, just barely loud enough for Kate to hear, “He really is too much.”

Confused murmurs filled the precinct but Vincent did not seem like he wanted to stick around to clear anything up. 

That felt like it was best. She had no idea where the real Harvey had ended up in the chaos or how long they had until he returned. 

She let Vincent lead her off, Evelyn shifting Kate over to him, shouldering most of her weight as they walked. 

She stayed tucked carefully into his side. It felt safe there, secure in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Why didn’t you do that before freeing me?” she asked, much later than she should have, but at least she still had the sense to ask at all. 

He looked away, a sheepish air taking over him. “I didn’t want to keep you locked in there any longer than I had to. The plan was just to incapacitate Harvey but… it wasn’t right.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I got the job done though.”

“Hmm.” And then, perfectly patient, holding out just long enough to not inconvenience them too badly, she collapsed. 

[danddymaro]

Flattered | Vincent Sinclair x Reader

I watched it again lol. 

perhaps fluff, ( YK, as far as slashers can get with fluff)

Word count: 1483

Flattered

Your finger lightly petted the falling wax that gently ran down the long, white candle, toying with it betwixt your thumb and pointer before it cooled into a thin coat over them.

You released a little hum before using a nail to peel off the remains with ease, soon feeling just a bit happy with how soft your skin felt afterward.

 Though, the delight was short-lived.

- It usually was.

Boredom had you sitting here with a halfhearted gaze, wondering if you'd ever get out. 

The man that held you captive did nothing much but put himself to work, occasionally looking back at you to confirm that you were still there. 

As if you could go anywhere else but under his nose.

It made no sense as you didn't know where else you could go but sit, making you wonder why he did so, so often.

"I'm not going anywhere," you reminded him in a soft voice as you then lay back on the bed there. 

It was the only thing that had been saved from the touch of the melted substance he worked with, and you were grateful. You were surrounded by it.

"Can't," you mumbled before closing your eyes tiredly. 

Like hell you'd try anyways when his brother was lurking anywhere the masked one wasn't. 

'I'm better off here,' you inwardly mused.

If you were completely honest, you preferred being stuck with this man instead.

 At least he just kept you there at a distance, something the other one had trouble doing when you first got into town.

You didn't even want to think about what he would have done to you if Vincent hadn't intervened, pulling you to him with a sort of claim that had you conflicted.

Because you didn't know if being with him was going to be better or worse, luckily, things had gone pleasantly thus far. 

-You weren’t dead and that counted as a victory.

He didn't try and touch you, excluding the few moments his soft hands grazed your cheek, feeling the texture of your flesh to what you concluded was inspiration to his more innocent work. 

Gently his fingers trailed the line of your lower lip, and as you tried to follow the movement of the exploring digits, your eyes practically glowed at the act. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to think of it as anything other than utter interest, but even then he adored the look you possessed.

You quickly lost your initial cowering when you realized he wouldn’t draw lower than our jawline, or roam anywhere else other than your face.

So, you let him do as he pleased, occasionally voicing out little teases that got you little, flustered responses. 

‘Having fun?’ you questioned him while trying not to laugh to much at the way his movements would be interrupted by a sudden, minuscule jerk that would be akin to a stutter in someone’s voice.

You noticed the way his fingers would tremble, and for whatever reason it was ….cute.

For just a moment you opened your eyes again, a half-lidded look pointed to where he continued to run the warm metal utensil over little mistakes he’d made.

You blinked your eyes open wide before you suddenly turned your whole head, your face pointed to his direction, your entire body soon following the movement until you lay at your side, observing.

‘Is that what he’s been up to?’ you asked yourself, realizing how it made sense the amount of times he stared at you, studying.

"Is that me?" you asked with a touch of a smile, asking from where you now sat, your legs hanging off from the side of the bed. 

At the finishing details, you finally found yourself eased enough to ask just as he took a step back to give it a final once over.

Granted for the past few days, you hadn't talked , but the simple boredom of all those hours had you begging for some interaction.

At your question Vincent turned back to you and nodded slowly before looking down, shifting awkwardly. 

You watched as his hands toyed with the tool he held, and as you observed, you detected what was perhaps bashfulness. 

His lack of words made his body language much more exaggerated, that was for sure. 

But, of course, you didn't mind much.

"Can...um...can I get a better look?" you asked with a crooked smile, waiting for his response. 

His head shot up and he looked at you for a long minute before he nodded. 

You weren't sure why, but you felt a bit amused before you walked over to him and the wax figure, eyeing it as it was just at your height. 

Your hand went out to touch it before it retreated, and you looked up to the massive man, uncertain, 

 "Can I?" you asked, afraid to ruin his work.

Though, he nodded fiercely, the hand closest to him hesitating before it reached for yours, guiding it towards your replica's face. 

That's where you started, petting an eyebrow before skimming down it's chin. 

You then brought the hand to your own face, feeling the difference with awe. 

"It's amazing," you said while looking op to him, the single eye that stared you down holding appreciation. 

Though, you could hardly see it as it was hidden by the shadow of his mask and jet black strands that had framed his face. 

"You're really talented," you told him, flattered by the work, moreover appreciating that he had only used you as a muse and not the base for his sculpture. 

"I'm nowhere near your skill, but maybe I can sculpt you sometime, " you joked while looking the work over more.

He even caught the fabrics of your clothes right, making you softly sigh.

 It had only been a silly remark, because you doubted you could pull it off anyways, but he seemed elated. 

his hands both took your wrists captive as he turned you towards him, the act nearly tearing a scream out of you in frightened surprise. Other than the first time he’d practically tore you out of his brother’s brute grasp on you, it was the first time he’d used any real force.

 He lightly shook you as he bent down a bit, looking down with a tilted head, not speaking, but communicating with a nearly muted hum you found somewhat endearing. 

Quickly, your terror subsided as you took in his response.

"Ah, You like that idea?" you said with a short chuckle, and he nodded quickly, excited. 

"I'll take that as a yes," you said as you eased your wrists out of his grip, only doing so thanks to the dying pressure of his hands.

He'd never had anyone try and capture his likeness. 

Not even he bothered to do so.

 But you had offered, and it was something he didn't know he yearned for until he watched you try and mimic the steps he'd taken to create yours. 

You explained to him how you’d work on a much smaller scale, the figure no larger than six inches, giving you a small enough goal that didn’t require all of his precise touches.

He helped you start of, slowly guiding you with silent advise and little nudges you smiled at.

You were somewhat sloppy, and when you weren't, you were far too considerate, your pace careful, almost afraid of messing up. 

Soon after, he let you try your hand while he sat back and watched for hours, giving you the workspace needed to become familiar while he stayed out of the way. 

However, it didn't mean he sat back and did nothing, because he found the sight of you moving around his usual workspace to be charming as you copied many of his movements , even the unnecessary ones. 

It was cute watching you move around in his apron with no real direction. 

He’d help you out, but given how determined you were to do it on your own, he refrained from it after you pleaded with him on the first attempt.

Flattered was in no way near what he felt, because it was far greater. 

In his sketchbook he recorded the various faces of your process, the purse of your lips, the lines of frustration and consideration that decorated it too. 

-And especially your moments of little victories as you saw your efforts pay off.

Even the light smudges of dried wax you had dotted on your cheeks as you wiped them occasionally had been captured. 

He recorded it all on paper, and hoped that after he finished the moments, you thought of them as fascinating too. 

Gently his fingers ran down the slick wax that protected his face, realizing how warm he felt beneath the mask, his cheeks flushed with color that spread over his ears too. 

for a moment you looked back at him, his living muse smiling preciously. 

[postazkabansiriussupremacy]

don't know how much of this makes sense but I've been thinking about sirius at grimmauld place meeting auror reader... possibly Weasley!reader? like around Bill's age, and maybe she defends him when Molly and the rest of the order are having that discussion – him just being in awe and desperate for her and her love (maybe turns into him jerking off thinking of her) and would love to see your take on it!

pounding my fists on the fucking table THIS is the type of shit i’m TALKING ABOUT, people!!!!!! 😤🥵🥵 i LOVE the way your mind works!!!! you love to fucking see it!!!! WOOOOOO

alright i love the thought of sirius getting off to the thought of y/n…. but here’s the thing. i rewrote the first half of this fic at least four different times trying to figure out a way to incorporate y/n into the argument, but i couldn’t do it 😐😔 it always sounded too chunky or corny so i changed up your request a bit. sorry bout that chief 🫡 but anyway

“I’m sorry for what she said.” You tell Sirius quietly as everyone else files out of the kitchen. The argument between him and your mother was a bad one, and things still feel a bit tense.

Your mother is the sweetest and most caring woman you’ve ever met, but she can be quite harsh when riled up. She made several comments to Sirius that were incredibly rude and uncalled for.

“You don’t have to apologize, dear.” Sirius tells you while standing from his chair. He motions for you to walk in front of him as you go up the stairs together. It’s a polite gesture, and you’re none the wiser as he takes a few short glances at your rear.

“I know,” You sigh, whispering as to not wake up any of the portraits. “But she could’ve made her point without being so rude. It wasn’t right of her to say those things.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius lies, not wanting to say too much and accidentally insult your mother to your face. He’s always been one to hold a grudge, and this argument with Molly won’t be forgotten anytime soon.

“I get the feeling you don’t mean that.” You state as you reach the floor of your guest bedroom. “But I understand. I suppose I wouldn’t forgive her so easily either.”

Sirius looks down at you as you turn to face him. Standing together in the dimly lit hallway vaguely reminds Sirius of what it’s like to drop a date off at their door. This situation isn’t so lighthearted, but the tension feels similar.

He tilts his head to the side and smiles, deflecting the conversation toward you. “That so? I figured you’d be the type to forgive and forget.”

You reflect his smile and shrug. “I am, but I don’t think the same is said for you.”

Sirius nods once and chuckles quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re just too sweet. Goodnight, love.”

Sirius listens and watches as you say your own ‘Goodnight’, breaking eye contact and looking away as some color lights up your cheeks. He waits until your door is closed before walking away to his own room.

After getting undressed and sliding into bed, Sirius can’t help but feel a little guilty.

It feels wrong. You’re ten years his junior, for Merlin’s sake! Sirius is probably closer in age to your parents than he is to you.

The interactions between the two of you thus far have been nothing but innocent, and yet Sirius can’t help himself. The feeling of his stiffening cock rubbing against the confines of his trousers is unbearable.

He releases himself from his pants, and slowly starts working his hands up and down his shaft. Instead of his own fist, he imagines your lips wrapped around him.

Sirius lays his head back on his pillow and closes his eyes. He remembers you, just a few moments ago as you looked up at him in the hallway: eyes wide, pupils dilated, and lips slightly parted. He can easily picture you with that same expression as you bob your head up and down his length.

Instead of his own hands working his cock, he imagines they’re tangled in your hair to help guide you and set the pace.

He pumps his cock faster, picturing you using one hand to hold the base of his shaft and the other to pleasure yourself.

Sirius wonders what kind of sound you’d make if he ‘accidentally’ held your head down too far, pushing you to take more of him than you can handle. He imagines the feeling of your throat gagging and contracting around the head of his cock, saliva dripping out of your mouth and falling onto his balls and the bedsheets.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, he quickly ponders whether or not you’d swallow; maybe you’d prefer his cum on your face or all over your breasts.

Or perhaps you’d prefer not to waste a drop. You’d flip over onto your back, begging Sirius to cum inside you.

It’s all so easy to imagine. He can already hear your sweet little gasps and moans as he sinks his cock into your sopping wet pussy, giving it a few pumps before spilling his load as deep inside as he can get.

Sirius cums with a small moan and a shudder, reality coming back to hit him as soon as his cum falls all over his hand and stomach.

[callsignmarz]

MDNI | 18+ | König x Reader

TW- mentions of heavy sexual content, knife play, blood, BDSM and explicit language.

“Prisoner of War.”

“Believe me, Schatz. I’m about to ruin you.” His voice sinks into a low purr, your skin shivers with cupidity as if ice was dripping from your shoulders and down to the base of your spine.

Meticulously, König then reaches into his pants to fish out his cock, the tip flushed with a red hue, visibly aching and ready to engulf itself inside of you. Wrapping a fist around the weight of his length, he teasingly tapped on your ass a few times. Each slap adding onto the debarred torment. Your bottom lip feels raw from the amount of times you’ve been gnawing at it as tantalizing desires fester between your legs but, you refuse to allow it to stop the next set of words from rolling off your tongue.

“Do it then, pussy.”

By the time a shit-eating grin plasters itself on your face, his knife ventures back with the point of the blade poking into your jugular. You take a small gulp. Letting your throat naturally close, feeling your pulse thumping hard against the sharp edge as excitement bubbles to the surface. A conflicting storm of urges and emotions cloud König’s mind, darkening his eyes to a charcoal grey. There was always something about you made him want to risk it all.

Was it your unpredictability? The quick witted comebacks?

Whatever it was, it certainly had him wrapped around your fingertips.

You flutter your eyelids with delight as the head of his cock slips and slides between your wet folds and against your swollen clit, blending your fluids together.

König bites down on his lip, stifling back an audible groan as he studied how your body responded to his touch. The walls of the room temporarily fade to black when his dick disappears deep inside of you, stretching you out deliciously. Your face scrunches at the burn and an animalistic moan erupts from your throat. Naturally, your hands jerk back to allow yourself to adjust to his size, however, were quickly reminded about the metal chains, holding you down in position.

“Let’s see how much shit-talking you do now, Y/N.”

“Fuck you.” You managed to rasp in between moans.

Behind the mask his mouth hooks, “Get ready then.”

Gritting your teeth, pleasure infuses with pain as König pulls his hips back about half way before snapping back. Your walls constrict around him while he set a deliberating pace.

Since day one, you were a constantly in the back of his head. Haunting him. Now, he wanted to haunt you the same way you have for years. He wanted to punish you. To claim you. The table creaks while you held onto your chains for dear life, drowning in the endless waves of your arousal.

“Oh God, König! I’m about—” You go to say but he quickly chimes in, finishing your sentence for you.

“To cum? I don’t think so. At least not yet anyway. But, don’t worry, I’ll let you know when you can.”

Your legs shake uncontrollably when you feel König pull out and away, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“No, please. Come back, I was so close. Please, let me come. Please!”

Your begging was heavenly. But, as much as he wanted to give you what you wanted. König restrained himself, relishing on the way you were slowly losing control. He took in the vulnerable state you were in while he fiddled with his knife.

“armes Ding. (Poor thing.)” He pouted, leisurely stroking himself with his free hand, “You know, Y/N. I could easily go all night. Fucking that greedy pussy of yours, denying you of any release.”

You shake your head weakly in response, eager to welcome him back inside at any moment and his mouth twists into a conniving smirk,

“Aht aht. You need to use your words. Or do I have to force them out of you?”

While you catch your breath, you turn back to peer shyly at König through your lashes and underneath his unforgivable gaze. Pride lodges itself in your throat and you struggle to swallow it down. You were never the one to submit, especially in bed.

“Claim me as yours, König.”

“Say it again, Leibling. I didn't hear you.”

“You fucking heard me.”

König took a long pause, letting go of himself as he stalked his way around you, taking his time in between steps. You feel his demanding presence shift the air around the room and the sound of König suck at his teeth, contemplating his next move.

Technically, you did say for König to claim you.

What you didn’t say was how.

Once again, König positioned himself behind you, firmly grasping the knife in his hand. Your eyes widened, letting out a piercing cry when you felt a sharp, burning sensation on your ass cheek. The chains rattle erratically as you wiggled, attempting to break away from him.

“Hold still!” His voice boomed off of the walls and you do your best to follow his command, “Good girl.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you sink your teeth into your bicep, distracting your senses as he continues to carve into your skin. Blood bubbles and trickles down your leg matching with the brimming pain and anger.

When König finishes, he observes his new work of artwith a sense of fulfillment. Satisfied with how it looks, König then gives you a sharp smack on the ass as if he was giving it a stamp of approval.

“What the fuck was that for!?” You spat with new found hatred. As you turn to look at the damage, you could feel your heart hit the pit of your stomach.

“What? I only did what you asked of me. I simply claimed you as mine.” He chorkles, setting the knife down to the side, amused that his name is now engraved in your skin.

“Now and forever.”

Your chest heaves with the gates of hell burning on the other side of your irises. König’s words were just as permanent as the new hand made label. Right as you go to throw another fit, König swiftly flips you on your back, twisting the chains tighter into your wrists. One by one, your boots and your pants were stripped off, granting himself full access to you. Out of spite, you cross your legs as tight as you could, denying him to wedge himself in between your legs.Cocking a brow, König scoffs at you feeble attempt.

“You really think that’s going to stop me?”

Giving you no room to protest, he grabs your ankles, pinning them on either side of your head, completely folding you and leaving you wide open. König could feel you thrash yourself, but ultimately, he held all the power, whether you liked it or not.

“So feisty, Y/N.” He teased, his tone dripping with desire.

A mewl escapes from your lips at the feel of the fabric of his sniper hood, lightly brushing along your clit before being completely covered. Steadily, his head lowers while maintaining eye contact, you hold your breath as you felt the heat of his breath ghost over, driving you closer to the brink of insanity with a pathetic amount of ecstasy.

Concealed behind the curtain of his hood, you felt his tongue flatten, tasting you from the back to front, seeking out your sensitive bud. Once he found your sweet spot, König didn’t hesitate to get to work, avidly humming as he sucked and slurped on your clit. Your back arches while you lose your sense of reality from the sensation of it all, compelling your muscles to tremor beneath his captive hold. Each lap, each swirl, pushed you closer and closer to your insatiable orgasm.

The faces you made were absolute perfection. He could watch you all day. But, that doesn’t mean you deserve to be rewarded.

You had to earn it.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, König, once again, pulls away and you throw your head back in frustration.

“König, please! Just let me come already.” You cry.

His grip loosens around your ankles, the pads of his fingers creep along your skin leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Underneath the hood, König licks his lips, savoring on the essence that was left on his chin.

“I think you’ve become a very addicting problem, Y/N. How about we make a deal? If I let you out of those cuffs, I’ll let you come as many times as you want while riding me. What do you say?”

You meet König’s gaze, hesitating to give an answer right away. There was no way he was being serious. You refused to believe it, and yet, here you are, tempted with an opportunity to escape your imprisonment. Adrenaline kickstarts and courses through your veins. Taking a small swallow, you give your answer.

“Deal.”

His hand comes up, ripping open a velcro seal on his vest and with only two fingers, he pulls the keys out. With freedom dangling at his fingertips, all you had to do was keep yourself in control. Your lips press together, hiding the excitement back as an audible click of the cuffs releases you, the metal no longer digging into your bone.

It takes you a minute or two for the pins and needles to stop when you retract your arms back down to your sides. Then, the unexpected sound of a metal chair scraping against the floor makes you jump to your feet. When you spin around, König had taken the chair from the other side of the room and placed it a few feet away from you. He moves around and comfortably takes a seat, his posture relaxed though he was still hard. Lazily, he tilts his head to the side, pleased to see how well you were behaving.

With a click of his tongue, he tears your attention away from his cock, although, he didn’t really mind it.

“Get on all fours and crawl to me.”

You understood the assignment. So, taking your time, you drop to your knees and assumed the position, your eyes never leaving his as you started to crawl to him.

“That’s it, Leibling. Nice and easy.”

A low pitched hum vibrates his chest when his left hand found his shaft and stroked himself, matching with your slow tempo.

When you reach his boots, your hands slither up aiming for his abdomen. But, before you decide sit on his lap, you make a last minute decision and stick your tongue out, licking from the base to the tip, sampling on the taste of his pre-cum. König’s head tips back, fighting to keep the beast within him contained when your lips gently kiss the veins that decorated his length, allowing a second in between. A heavy sigh unleashes and races down your spine with electricity as König’s hips rise and fall with a natural flow, searching for solace of any form.

Rewardingly, you open your mouth and König promptly invades. You look up at him, keeping a steady trend and you take this opportunity to start plotting. Your mind begins to wander as you start to change your pace and out of nowhere, a rough hand comes down to back of your head, fingers ensnared at your roots, yanking you off of his cock. Instantly, you freeze when you receive a warning glare from König.

“Don’t even try it, Frau. (Woman.)”

Forcing out a scoff, you play dumb, “Oh, stop being paranoid. I wasn’t even doing anything.” You cooed.

Carefully, you swing a leg over his and climb into his lap. König anticipates you movements and shifts his hips accordingly so you’re able hover over his dick, teasing the tip of his dick between your heat. A small moan slips past your lips, easing your weight down onto him. Colorful words and phrases, spill from König’s mouth. Letting go of your hair, his hands slide to the small of your back, you feel his fingers grazing at the hem of your shirt and creep their way underneath.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore.” You tell him breathlessly, slowly rocking your hips in a controlled rhythm, his cock swelling with each deliberate bounce.

A new wave of pleasure threatens to consume you entirely when you feel König groping and fondling your tits. Unable to resist the familiar turmoil, you secure yourself by throwing your arms around his neck. Feeling your walls contracting around him, König instinctively took control, thrusting into you at an deplorable pace.

“I can feel you, Schatz. You’re almost there.” König’s huffs, his voice low and gravelly as he continues, “Just remember, no matter how much you run and hide, your body, your being, it all belongs to me.”

His words push you further into a chaotic frenzy. Your moans fill the room as you bounce with fervor and urgency while his hips buck to meet with your movements. Eventually, you were tossed over the edge, finally reaching the pinnacle of your orgasm and it wasn’t too long before König chases after his own, spurting his hot seed deep inside of you. The both of you sat there, relishing on the feeling of the after shocks of your insatiable orgasm.

“Such a good girl. I love the way your pussy clings to me, begging for more.”

It wasn’t like he was wrong. If you were being honest with yourself, the sex was far from good. Damn near maddening and very much addicting.

Breathing heavily, you climb off his lap and walk over to dress yourself. König remains seated, his eyes following your every move but doesn’t get up to place you back in his custody.

Once you were fully dressed, you turned to face him, fully expecting him to get in the way of your escape. But, instead, he just sat there, almost in defeat.

“You’re not going to stop me?” You questioned, genuinely curious and he simply shook his head, adding onto your confusion.

“Why not?”

“I’ve grown to like the little games we play.”

Silence falls and you count down the seconds you have with this slim window of opportunity. Taking his answer for what it is, you rush towards the door before stopping dead in your tracks to turn back as if you could leave without one. Taken back by surprise, you lift up his hood enough to expose his rosy lips and capture them with yours.

The kiss was quick and you give him these last words,

“Find me in Montreal.”