#dark souls 3 cover boy

[lnfours]

forevermore | l.n

summary: the long awaited, highly requested part two to welcome home <3

warnings: fluff all around, lando is absolutely whipped, this fic isn’t helping my delusions.

masterlist | part one

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the morning sun shone in through the bedroom window, which instantly made lando regret not taking your advice on hanging the curtain rod before you both went to sleep last night. now he was really kicking himself as he tried to cover his face with the pillow from under his head, desperate for darkness.

you both were exhausted from the move. you had spent all day and nearly all night unpacking boxes and it felt like you barely made a dent. you both conquered one room at a time, working through the downstairs of the house first, putting all the dishes in their respective spaces, moving things around to your liking. the exhaustion weighed out the happiness and giddiness that riddled your bodies, happy to finally have a place of your own.

the exhaustion didn’t hit till the both of you plopped down onto the mattress that was sitting on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, the bed frame sitting unbuilt against the wall, too tired to care.

after a few minutes, he accepted defeat. he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. in a soft huff, he placed the pillow back under his curls and reached for his phone underneath the pillow, tapping the screen to display the time.

right above the picture of the two of you he had had taken on his camera one night in singapore, the clock read 7:45am. he sighed quietly to himself, not wanting to wake you up as he rolled over to face you.

his sleep filled eyes squinted as he looked over at you. your cheek smushed against your pillow, your hair fanned out behind you as you slept peacefully. he smiled softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, moving closer to you.

in your sleep, you shuffled, moving closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. his other hand traced circles into the soft skin of your leg. he watched you for a minute, pondering about how someone like him ended up with someone like you.

the answer was simple, really. you shared the same soul, intertwined. he brought out the best version of you and you did the same with him. you were each others number one supporters, being there for each other on your worst days.

it made his head spin, suddenly thinking about what came next for the both of you. he had got the girl, finally asked her to move in with him, now all that was left was a diamond ring and white wedding dress. maybe even a dog and a few little ones that would run around and fill the house up with even more laughter and joy. the white picket fence dream, and he wanted it all with you.

your head was tucked under his chin as he reached for the tv remote on the floor beside him, grabbing it and finding something to occupy himself with as you slept on him. he paid no mind to the fact that the pins and needles were spreading throughout his arm, he just cared about how you were comfortable like this. and he’d be dammed if he moved to disturb you.

about a half hour into the episode of his show, he got bored. he pressed the pause button, slightly adjusting so you were sleeping on your back now. he moved to hover over you under the blankets, his hands softly bunching up the material of your shirt. he pressed soft kisses against the skin of your stomach, his stubble softly scraping at the skin.

this is what made your eyes flutter open, smiling down at the boy on top of you, green eyes meeting yours. you squinted in the morning sun, voice hoarse as you spoke, “hi,”

he smiled, chin resting on your tummy as he looked back up at you, “morning,”

you grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up to your face. the same smile still sat on his lips as he tilted his head down to meet you in a kiss. you sighed contently after pulling away, hands rustling the mess of curls on his head.

“‘m starving,” he said, laying back down on top of you. you let out a soft hmph as he laid on your chest, his legs between yours and you giggled softly.

“wanna order some breakfast?”

he hummed into the crook of your neck, “inna minute.”

and the two of you stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the feeling of each other under the warm blankets. you were absentmindedly playing with his curls, zoning out as you stared up at the white ceiling above you.

you were home. not only physically, but mentally. he was your person, the same boy in line who had paid for your coffee one morning at the cafe you frequented. the same one who nervously asked for your number after the third day of running into you and making small conversation about your lives and interests.

the boy who you ran up to at the airport every time he came back home and who never really wanted to leave you whenever it was time to go race in another country again.

his movement pulled you out of your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours as he rested his chin on your chest. the stubble he had grown out poking through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you had stolen from him the night before. you smiled back down at him, mumbling a soft, “what?”

“nothing,” he smiled back, adjusting himself so he was hovering over you now, hands trapping your head against the pillow. he bent down, lips meeting yours in a kiss before spoke softly against them, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you echoed back.

his next words flew out of his mouth without his brain filtering it first, “marry me.”

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what?”

“you heard me,” he said back, nose brushing against yours, “marry me.”

“lando,” you pulled back to meet his eyes, a small smile on your face, “are serious right now?”

“deadly.”

you sent him a questioning look, which showed him that you didn’t believe him. he huffed, getting up from the mattress and walking through the room to find his backpack.

“you know how i went to go visit my parents, right?”

you sat up, watching him dig through the backpack, “yeah..?”

“i was talking to my mom about you- about us, and she said she had something to give to me… fuck, where’d i put it?”

you chuckled softly to yourself before he turned around, a small velvet box in his hand before he kneeled back down onto the mattress with you, “and she said that if i were to propose to you, she wants you to have her ring.”

“lando, i,” your eyes were becoming glossy as he smiled at you, opening the box towards you to reveal the beautiful diamond ring you had complimented his mother on the first time you met her.

“she wants you to have it, i want you to have it,” he smiled, “i didn’t prepare a big speech or anything, but i love you. you’re it for me and i want to spend the rest of my life with you,”

he continued before saying the four words he’d been dreaming about saying you ever since he met you, “will you marry me?”

you hadn’t noticed the tears falling down your cheeks until they dropped onto the blankets under you, a smile on your face as you nodded, “yeah-” you laughed, “yes, a thousand times yes.”

he smiled and fished the ring out of the box, taking your left hand in his as he slid the ring onto your finger.

you pulled him forward, bringing him closer to you and sniffling softly before kissing him sweetly. his hand came up to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears that fell. your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, bright smiles on both of your faces.

“i love you,” he mumbled, raising your left hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss over the ring that shone proudly on your finger.

“i love you more.”

[yanderestarangel]

☆𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡

TW: Yandere themes, manipulation, daddy issues lightly considered, rough sex, non con, dub con, Daddykink, manipulation,age gap, reader is of legal age, nsfw, smut, blood, death citation, bites, bloodkink, Dark!Miguel O'Hara, vaginal sex, creampie, AFAB READER, Pet names, DILF! Miguel O'Hara.

You really didn't know how you ended up in that situation, your life turned upside down overnight.

You were a normal person, you had a best friend, a monotonous and routine life, always doing the same things over and over, repeating the days every week or month, but you liked it, it was your pattern. until Miguel O'Hara came into your life.

Miguel met you through an unfortunate coincidence, he was the father of Briella, the little girl you were hired to take care of and give tutoring in literature and grammar after college classes, you accepted because you needed money and enjoyed teaching the little girl but I had never seen her father's face, Miguel always left early for work which no one knew exactly what it was, he always tried to be punctual, not wanting to leave his daughter in your hands more than necessary so as not to bother you, but he had been late that day, and that's when it all started.

You taught Briella peacefully, a few books spread across the white marble table while you recited some tale by 'Edgar Allan Poe' requested by Briella herself, Miguel was an hour late that day, having been trapped on a mission in the Spider Society, fighting against another anomaly, but it took off running and throwing red webs home quickly.

Miguel composed himself as he entered the house, soon encountering you, your aura light and angelic even, your features, your body covered by the soft fabrics of your clothes, the world of O'Hara stopped there, he felt the heat in his chest, such warmth that he had not known that his Briella's mother and his late wife had died, but now you were there, before him, like a graceful and beautiful angel.

You could have sworn you saw two red hearts in the older man's irises, and it was strangely disturbing, Miguel's lower lip trembled with anticipation and desire, a desire to make you his, physically and emotionally, body and soul, every particle and The atom of his being, wholly O'Hara's, was his new life goal and he would do anything to get what he wanted.

You two spoke quickly and he apologized, trying to keep his composure and not do anything stupid in front of his daughter or scare you, but from that day on, your monotonous life wasn't so monotonous anymore, you felt someone watching over you, someone was around, you could feel it and it was awful.

Miguel also strangely increased the time you were supposed to teach Briella, the problem is that every time you went, the little girl wasn't there but her father, Miguel, always with a warm smile but masked by something darker, something that slowly surface of the "Good single dad" facade, and soon you fell into his Perfect facade, to your bad luck.

Miguel started giving you very expensive gifts or extra money, even if you denied it, he always said the same sentence.

"-Don't worry mi carinõ, that's nothing, you are an angel in my life and my daughter's." - Miguel would speak with a smile of white teeth and a little shaky as he watched your body and face.

𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒂𝒏

𝑨 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖&lt;3

Soon the manifestations of possession would start, mainly manipulation, he would talk like a "concerned father" because you are younger than him, but in reality he would just use some of his mental and family instability to bring you into the web of possession it, especially if you have Daddy issues.

He will love to know that.

He'll be everything you want him to be, he'll start taking care of you, calling you "My good boy/girl" every time you do something nice or warm to him and Briella, complimenting you on how you look, asking if you ate or remembering how important you are, even if they are Miguel's genuine concerns, he will also use this to manipulate you and keep you close, you are his after all, even if you don't know it yet.

Bonus: he would force you to call him "Daddy", "Papi", "Papito" or "Sir" as a form of respect (But he knew it was for his own satisfaction, as a title that marked that you were his to him do whatever he wanted, you were his to own and keep, you are the love of his life whether you like it or not.)

Miguel will also push any love interest out of his life, regardless of sex or gender, he is an influential man in the multiverse and powerful, both physically and in status.

He will manipulate you so much that you will find yourself locked in his mansion with a luxurious and comfortable room, with no access to the outside world, just him and Briella, Miguel will manipulate Briella into believing that you are going to be her new Dad/Mom, while smiling little girl believed tall mexican's lies.

"-Oh that was your boyfriend? I'm sorry dear/sweetheart, his muscles were no use after all."

-Miguel would speak with a malicious and psychotic smile with fangs dirty with human blood. You will never leave there and if you try Miguel will punish you severely, either with poison bites, paralyzing you for a few minutes.

Leaving sexual pheromones and making you writhe with pain and lust and you won't be able to touch yourself, with Miguel watching you with a malicious and cruel smile.

Or worst case scenario, fuck you mercilessly, he'll thrust his cock inside you without warning after lubricating it with a little saliva and his fingers, with all his strength, trapping your body underneath him easily, while you listened to the older man moan and growl words of possession as he felt his cock hit your uterus and rise in your womb, while Miguel growled.

"-You are... Fuck so tight... (Y/N) you should have just stayed quiet, why did you try to run away from me? Don't you like your Daddy Miguel anymore? Hm?" - Miguel would speak in a mocking tone as he struck harder, holding your hips and leaving painful marks on your flesh with the tip of his claws.

"-I'll fuck your fucking brains out if you keep being a shitty brat, just obey me and everything will be fine."

- Miguel would speak with a sadistic and cruel voice, while he played with your clitoris with strength and anger, while he continued to stick his dick in your tight pussy, a painful and delicious mixture, you couldn't take it anymore, it was the fifth orgasm of the night, but Miguel wasn't going to stop, he never was.

"-I would destroy everything for you and build everything again from the ashes if you asked me to, and you still say I don't love you?" - Miguel O'Hara would speak with a few tears of pleasure in his eyes as he came inside you, painting your pussy with hot, thick cum, biting your neck hard and leaving a painful trail of blood and vicious bites.

♡Some quotes from Yandere Miguel O'Hara♡:

"-I really don't think you should try to get rid of me. If you try again I swear I'll make them all suffer in front of you."

"I really would hate to hurt you but you don't give me any choice darling/dear."

"I finally found you. You are so silly aren't you? You really need a punishment."

"You can't run away from me my love. If you leave my side I swear I will kill anyone who tries to help you leave my side and I would kill myself in front of you."

"I adore you so much, I would literally rip my heart out and give it to you, kneel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on."

[luvtak]

be my valentine, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw brain melting fluff, just a little moment of being in love with hyunjin and accidently getting covered in paint, kissing, petnames, unedited.

✧ w/c 1156

✧ a/n ginger write something other than fluff challenged: failed. i wrote this inspired by the song valentine by inhaler and the way it makes me feel as well as the fact that hyunie deserves to have a very sweet love story <3 i hope you like it!!

Looking at him was as painful as the song’s he chose: he was so bright and incandescent that even in small domestic moments like this one,  filled your life with an almost harmful glow. Like a star, he was burning fast and bright and sometimes it felt like he would burn right through you. 

He was gorgeous and funny, and he was all yours. 

It’s an interesting thought, the fact that this independent and lone star would see you and pick you out of a million souls. An unforgettable moment, the way his eyes glanced down at you when he asked to dance–sultry and cool, and unbelievably sweet. 

He looks a bit like that now; paint covering his lifted hands, sweeping over the plains of his cheek to swipe the dark hair out of his eyes. Glancing at you over his painting, a work in progress you were not allowed to see–a valentines present, he said. The look gleaming off him pressed an ache right into your tummy.

 Gazing at him always felt like a gut punch; A tornado of butterflies reaching from his outstretched hands right into your middle. 

The music playing from his phone is melancholy, a slight betrayal to the smile eclipsing his lovely face. As it plays, he sings along, following the woeful melody with that out of place grin. 

“Hyunie, why are you always listening to such sad songs?” it’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and always received a different answer, but this time he only shrugs. You know it's hard for him to respond when he’s painting–focused only on the glide of his brush and the mixing of colors. Reds, blues, greens, etc. shades ranging everywhere from chartreuse to periwinkle, mixing and matching with a wave of his hand. 

“Sad songs are only sad if you are,” he answers late. “Like this one, only the melody is sad, the rest is happy.” 

You try to listen closer, see the music from his eyes, but ultimately the ballad still feels melancholy. Lilting notes piling on top of each other and easing the words, it reminds you of him… the graceful way it speeds up and slows down ; passionate and intimate, beautiful and sad. 

Being unable to admit this to him, you smile, the kind of smile that turns Hyunjin’s knees to jelly and stomach to storms. Secretly, he loves you the most this way: cozy and undone. He has sketches piled up of these moments, you with a book/you cloud watching/laughing with your friends. He adores you, even if he can tell that you don’t like his songs, that you think they’re too sad and wilty. You’re a crescendo of a person, loud and certain, and the music you like follows that. But he can’t help but love you more for listening to him, cuddled up on that tiny chair (surely uncomfortable) just so he can have a bit of company. 

“You look so pretty over there, sweetheart.” Shocked by the shift in his tone you release a nervous giggle and you can feel yourself beginning to warm up. Not like this is unusual behavior for your boyfriend–he’s romantic and glaringly in love with you always, but something about the environment… this tiny room, this beautiful boy (hair pushed back, smile blazing) sends shivers down your spine. 

Laughing, he sets his paintbrush down and wipes his paint-stricken hands off before moving closer. Only taking four steps before he’s in front of you, hands going to your face, hovering gently over the skin of your cheekbones. He never presses down, afraid to dirty your skin with the still green paint on his palms, but the way he’s looking at you gives the illusion that he’s touching you. Raking over your features like a starving man in a desert, lifting from your lips back up to your wide eyes. 

He’s consuming you and yet he’s done nothing. 

You can feel the heat of him, warm palms heating your face almost as much as your nerves. You’ve been together so long now, spent days and months and years becoming intimately aware of his body heat, yet you still feel that familiar shyness creeping up–leading to you biting the side of cheek in hopes of lessening the nerves. 

It’s only when he sees this, you so flustered in front of him, that his hands settle over the side of your jaw. Protective and gentle in his hold, and his crescent shaped eyes smiling at you. Calloused fingers rubbing down your neck, slowly to ease your butterflies. 

“I have them too.” he whispers, and your hands come to his chest, sitting where you know his heart is; beating quicker than you thought possible. How is it that you’re both so nervous? You’ve loved and lost together, know each other more intimately than anyone before, and yet just the sight of him conjures up the nastiest case of jitters. “Gimme a kiss, my love.” He giggled. 

You kiss him once, twice, then three times–kisses that are barely there, mostly just smiles pressed together, lips slightly entwined before releasing–until his hands snake around your waist and pull you closer. Your bodies held against each other like magnets, so close and yet never close enough. He kisses you slowly this time, taking control and easing you into it, lips lingering on yours before moving. Like all things, his kiss is sweet, and he tastes like the dessert you shared earlier: sugary and tart. 

When you move away, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving, his eyes are still closed. And for one moment you can truly see what you do to him–leaving him breathless and rosy. When his eyes open, hazy and lovestruck, you can’t help but to tell him: 

“Hyunjin, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” your voice is hoarse, heart racing inside your chest and you love him. You love him so much you can’t be mad about that paint on your skin, or the uncomfortable itch of his hair scratching your cheeks. 

In response he takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses your palm, right over your love line. High and close to your pinky, you read once that meant you’d have an intense and passionate relationship… maybe it was silly, but you can’t help thinking it must be true, and what a wonderful thought that is. That from the minute you were born you were destined for him; meant to grow up and meet him, to love and be loved in the truest fashion. 

You hope it’s true. 

He kisses you again before going back to his painting, shyly laughing at the sight of you disheveled and covered in paint. He locks in again, focused on colors and shapes, and looks at you one more time, cuddled up and still reeling from the affection, and smiles brighter than any star as he tells you, 

“You’re the most beautiful too.” 

© LUVTAK

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 5)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,069

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

“All I’m saying is that I think he’s pretty cute,” Feyre scoffs, defensively. 

Since you’d moved in, it seems as though your entire life revolves around the boys living next door.

While you’d finally gotten the sleep you deserved last night, something had felt…off. The other side of the wall was almost too quiet as you lay in the darkness, still awaiting sleep to take you in its hold, even though your body had been aching for sleep for so long. All night, there wasn’t a peep from the asshole sharing the wall. You knew it had to be Az living on the other side, there was no way in fucking hell that it wasn’t, but the lack of music blaring through the walls felt like a dream, almost.

You shoved the thoughts from your mind in the early hours of the morning, hastily getting ready for your day. Your first day of classes, and you wouldn’t let him ruin even that. Now, the sun shines brightly on you and Feyre as you walk to your first class of the day, Drawing 201.

You had made your schedules match up as much as they could. With Feyre being an art student as well, she had declared her major in oil painting, whereas you aren’t sure what medium you’d like to get into. All you know is that there’s something drawing you towards the arts, and thankfully, you still have time to take electives and try new classes to see if anything sticks.

The only classes you hadn’t been able to take together were your non-art related ones. Feyre seems to know exactly what her path is in life, minoring in business because she wants to open a gallery one day and figured having an understanding of what goes into owning her own business would be helpful. 

You, on the other hand, had opted for a creative writing class to fulfill that requirement for your college degree. It is a semester filled with imagination and artistry, searching for that missing piece of your soul, trying to find it along the way.

Feyre has her drawing pad tucked under an arm as she walks. Yours is held in a similar fashion, the obnoxiously large pad of paper bigger than your torso. Her golden-brown hair is tied back into a loose bun that she makes look effortless. If you were to try and recreate the same hairstyle, you’d look like a rat. She’s clad in a plain t-shirt and jeans, simple for the balmy weather, not wanting to wear something nicer only to have charcoal and paints splashed over it by the end of the day.

The two of you had been talking about your neighbors, having seen one of them driving off in his vintage car that somehow always seemed to be parked outside of the building. Its paint was red and rusted, metal rotting through. You weren’t even sure that the car was in running condition, but it gave a splutter of black smoke as he rolled away and you wondered if it would make it the few blocks down to campus. 

It was the last roommate, the one you don’t know the name of. He’s large and bulky, muscles seeming to nearly split the seams of any shirt he covered his torso with. The one who had seemed to be the least volatile, that is, until he shut the door in your face for the final time that dreadful night.

The building is old, but the classroom is spacious and drab. Concrete floors adorned with paint that hadn’t come off, dried clay chipping into dust, the room shared with many different classes working with many different mediums. The white walls brighten the room, the sun casting through the windows bouncing off of it and creating intriguing lighting to work with. Art horses are lined up in a circle, surrounding a mattress with a navy blue sheet spread across its lumpy surface. It smells of both paint and graphite, the scent comforting as a part of you settles, shoulders relaxing as you revel in it. 

Accustomed to the setup, you realize that you’re going to be jumping right into the class and will be drawing today. Last year, the most memorable moment in your first life drawing class ever was the oldest man you’ve ever seen being the nude model. Of course, that was the day that your professor had each student drawing a close-up of a specific part of the model’s body, and you’d so luckily gotten to draw his low-hanging, wrinkly balls. Lovely.

You shudder as the memory resurfaces, following Feyre to a seat. You drop your bag to the floor, setting up your own sketchpad, before pulling out the necessary materials you’ll be needing for class.

You roll your eyes in response to her statement. “I didn’t say they weren’t cute, I said that they’re assholes.” Despite your quiet night, you can’t help but wonder about Az, thinking about his brooding nature and stupidly charming face as you drifted off to sleep in the loud quiet of your room.

Students trickle in one by one. A group of girls stride in, laughing about something that happened at a bar over their weekend. Another girl follows, but it’s clear that she isn’t in their group. She’s pretty, with chic, ice blue  glasses perched on her button nose, her striking white hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

Your attention shifts to the boy that follows her in, and your jaw almost drops.

He’s handsome—no, he’s much more than that, you just can’t formulate the words twisting your thoughts and tongue into knots. Maybe after your creative writing class you’d be able to describe his sheer beauty. He has the most luxurious copper hair you’ve ever seen. It cascades across his broad shoulders, a braid on either side, caressing his face. He’s tall, too, an entire head—maybe even more—taller than the white-haired girl he’s bounding behind. His straight nose is flecked with freckles and his fox-shaped face is utterly devastating.

When his gaze finds yours, you feel as though you’re pinned to the art horse beneath you. He has one russet eye, and the other is golden. You want to commit it to memory, curse yourself for not bringing your colored pencils, stare right into those very eyes until you’ve gotten each stroke of his iris’ perfect. He’s mesmerizing, and the closer he moves, you start to make out the fine scar that slashes through that gold eye and his eyebrow above. It’s his only flaw, but only adds to his intimidating aura.

“Hi,” he greets, sliding into the empty seat next to you. You have to look up at him, even sitting, and something in your stomach stirs. “I’m Lucien.”

“(Y/N),” you respond numbly, thrown by his beauty. He’s wearing a loose button-up in the color moss, dark trousers, and even nicer shoes. He doesn’t look anything like an art student. Law, maybe. “Nice to meet you.”

You fumble with your art case as he holds out his hand for you to shake. Cheeks heating, you give him a bashful smile, sliding your hand into his. It’s warm, encapsulating the entirety of your own, and the longer your hand sits in his, the wider his pleasant smile becomes. “You as well,” he responds, then leans over to introduce himself to Feyre. With your back to him, you give her an ‘oh my gods, look how gorgeous he is’ look, and she responds with an elbow to your side, acknowledging that she sees just how gorgeous he is.

This year is determined to kill you, with all of the handsome men you’ve seen so far. Lucien maybe even more so, with how delightful he already is.

You can hardly even remember what you were conversing with Feyre about now that Lucien has entered the room. You couldn’t even remember if one of your neighbors waltzed right into the roo—

Fuck.

Of fucking course.

It’s the one roommate you don’t know the name of. The one who’d been driving away when you and your roommate left for campus this morning, waltzing into the room as if he owns the place.

His frame takes up the entire doorway, and you find yourself wondering if that’s his thing. Precious Azzy’s is being loud, Rhys’ is that forked tongue of his, and this one’s is filling any space with his massive body.

He enters the room with a swagger that has all of the girls swooning, carefree and confident. He oozes masculinity, barrel chested and tall. You didn’t know that he was in this class, though. When Rhys has said that they were juniors, you thought they’d be in the 300 classes, not 200s.

Now might be as good a time as ever to ask, though, because his hazel gaze sparks in recognition when he glances your way, and he beelines over to you. 

“Well, hello there ladies,” he greets with a seemingly genuine smile. He had been the nicest of the three when you and Feyre had almost knocked their door clean from its hinges, but he had also shut the door on you. Plus, with your not-so-great experiences with his roommates, your body is tense, prepared for the worst. “You’re taking this class?”

Feyre takes the bait on this one, and you’re well aware that Lucien is listening in, despite the fact that he’s pulled his satchel into his lap and is unloading his own supplies. “Yeah, it’s required for sophomores. Are you in it as well?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a sinful smile. Wolfish, almost. “You could say that.” You open your mouth to speak but he’s turning towards Lucien, smile broadening into something practically wicked, sticking his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m Cassian, man. Nice to meet you.”

“Lucien,” he replies politely, though you don’t miss the slight grimace on his face when Cassian clenches his fingers in his own. You smother a laugh because Cassian looks like he could break all of the bones in Lucien’s hand with just a little more pressure if he wanted to.

The trifecta is complete. You finally have all three names, though you only know Az through his nicknames alone. Or maybe his name is Azzy. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy all of the time. 

Whatever. You don’t care.

After introducing yourself and Feyre to Cassian, he leans in closer. He smells earthy, like freshly turned dirt and smoked wood. It reaches out to you like roots in the ground, and it’s refreshing, to say the least.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he starts, and you nearly recoil. You were expecting him to come in here with the arrogance his roommates seem to share, not this sincere politeness dripping from his words. His hazel eyes are earnest as you inspect him, his soft smile a touch guilty, if anything. “It’s just that I’ve got to side with my roommates. You can understand that, right?” 

“You don’t even know what he did,” you answer, trying not to grumble. Your brows are pinched and you watch Cassian take note of that. Az had been a complete prick for no reason, and that’s just not cool in your books.

Cassian winces, dropping back an inch or two. His voice is low, more of a whisper than you thought someone of his size would be able to make. “It’s not really my place to say, but Azriel had had a rough day. And no, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but you did threaten to tow his bike, and he doesn’t take that lightly. But hey, it had nothing really to do with me, so I’m willing to look past it if you are.” 

Azriel. Aa full name to a face and well, it kind of suits him. The angel of death. A shiver wracks your spine.

With that permanent scowl, he certainly looks the part.

And, this isn’t the apology you expected, but it’s a truce, a peace offering between neighbors. Maybe, if you accept, Cassian will be able to pass along the message of ‘shut the fuck up after midnight’ to Azriel.

You share a look with Feyre, contemplating. It seems as though she’s thinking similarly to you because she smiles up at Cassian, agreeing. “We’d love that.”

Cassian beams, straightening to his full height. Fuck, he’s huge. 

He looks as if he may say something more, but the professor enters the room and calls his name. He shoots you and Feyre a cheeky grin. “That’s me,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll come get your numbers after class. Try not to enjoy it too much, ladies.” With a wink, he turns, gliding across the room with an ease someone built like a brick wall should have.

Your eyes follow him as he stalks towards the teacher, all grins and positivity. Maybe he isn’t like his broody, rude roommates. The teacher asks him something and he’s nodding along as if he’s done this before and is being reminded of what’s expected of him for this class. He roots around in the bag slung over his shoulder and pulls something out as he makes his way towards the door. Maybe he’s not enrolled in your class and only needed to speak to the professor?

“Welcome to Drawing 201,” the professor greets, clapping her hands together to gain the attention of the room. The murmurs soften as she speaks, students ready to have their talents molded by her intelligence. “My name is Ms. Woods, but you can call me Alis.”

You don’t miss Cassain slipping back into the room as Alis walks you through warm up exercises and best practices for the class. Your fingers are already coated with charcoal from where you’d roughly outlined shapes of Feyre’s body for warm ups. The curves on your paper become more and more fluid as you get into the familiar motions of drawing.

“What do you think he’s doing here?” you murmur to Feyre, still watching where Cassian is crouched low as if he wouldn’t be able to hear the professor from his full height. While you’re turned this way, you catch Lucien peeking at you over his shoulder for a fleeting moment, and before your gaze can snag his, he’s turning back to his own work.

Feyre shrugs, studying the lines of your face. “You don’t think he’s the—”

“This is Cassian,” Alis interrupts, stealing your attention from your roommate and your drawing. It’s nothing more than a mess of rough shapes, looking nothing like her at all, but you’re trusting the process. Only a minute's time isn’t long enough for more than that. 

Cassian is no longer wearing his loose jeans and tight t-shirt. Instead, he dons a thick, gray robe. The fabric doesn’t nearly drape far enough down, his gloriously tanned and muscular legs on full display, showing off an intricate tattoo from his knees, creeping up underneath the fabric. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, following the lines of muscle all the way up as Alis continues, “He’s going to be our model for the day.”

You’re not the only one who chokes at the news. Girls and guys alike are blushing in their seats, and Cassian can hardly contain the smug smirk threatening to split his face in two. He winks over at you and Feyre who share a wide-eyed look. Lucien scoffs lightly, and your jaw snaps shut, pink heating your cheeks as well.

You busy yourself by flipping to a new page in your pad. It’s crisp and white, not at all as interesting as you’re trying to make it seem as you avoid Cassian’s mirth-filled stare. You smooth the paper with your hand, and it’s shaking slightly with anticipation. Your new neighbor who’s just offered a truce, and you’re already going to be seeing him naked.

Would it have been weirder to be mad at him and stare at his naked form, or now, when a ceasefire has been declared and you’re somewhat on the road to becoming friends?

You don’t have the chance to think further on it because Cassian moves into the circle towards the lone mattress on the floor as Alis explains how the time spent in class is going to be divided. There will be a few three minute sketching sessions where you are to get down as much of his form as you can, while Cassian continuously changes poses. Following that, there will be two fifteen minute sessions, a break, and a final longer session where you’ll focus more on detail than form.

He slides out of his shoes, and you swallow roughly as he undoes the ties to his robe. Thankfully, he’s not looking at you, watching your intent gaze pinned to his tanned skin. The fabric slides from his broad shoulders, down, exposing the muscles of his back. The less fabric that shows, the more tattoos you see, covering both arms and licking across his chest. His waist pulls in tight and you have to bite your lip to hold back a noise in the completely silent room. Rippling muscles line his body, corded and thick in all of the right places. You can’t help it, staring unabashed because he’s turned away from you, your eyes falling from the inky whorls of tattoos across his shoulders, down through the cavern of the muscle lining his spine, all the way down to his tight ass.

All of the students are entrapped by his beauty, as if he’s aphrodite reincarnated. Two dimples poke in the base of his spine that you want to lean forward and dip your tongue into, but then he’s shifting a little and his cock is on full display.

The stick of charcoal in your fingers snaps in half.

You hope you get that facing you for the few hours you’ll be here.

Next to you, Lucien tuts under his breath, but even he can’t seem to look away from the Greek God standing before you.

Alis instructs Cassian into his first pose and then addresses the class. “Alright, your time begins now.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You don’t know how you’re able to focus on anything other than the cock draped so prettily across his abdomen.

Cassian looks as relaxed as ever, splayed out across the blue sheet on the mattress, one arm tucked beneath his head, eyes shut, and breathing even as if he might have actually fallen asleep. 

With the late nights you know he and his roommates tend to have, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

You lose yourself in the quiet of the classroom, nothing but the sounds of long strokes or chalk against paper, the scratch of quick sharp lines being drawn. There’s the occasional murmur of advice or comments from Alis as she makes her rounds, weaving through students spread throughout the room.

Drawing the contours of his muscle is no easy feat. Packed layer upon layer from years or hard work spent in the gym, you rub the dark soot into your drawing pad. It’s calming, sweeping the charcoal over the white space to create shadows the lighting paints across his body.

His tattoos take some effort, even though Alis had said not to worry about those, that getting his form down was more important, but you can’t help yourself. You’ve always been interested in people’s tattoos and the stories behind them, the significance or lack thereof for some, despite having none of your own. You draw them with an extra care, trying your best not to make up reasons as to why he might have them. Now that you’re going to be on friendly terms, maybe you can ask him the meaning behind them yourself.

Eventually, Alis’ timer goes off, the ringtone the same as your phone, and for a fleeting moment your body reacts as if it’s your own alarm going off, a slight twist in your stomach as your body locks for a moment. You put down your chunk of charcoal as Cassian sits up, dusting your fingers off and admiring your drawing, comparing it to the model once more before he tugs on his robe.

Feyre stands to stretch, her back popping as she twists around. You wipe the soot from your hands on a cloth and grab your water bottle, the crisp water wetting your parched throat.

Lucien leans over, copper hair cascading over his shoulder and almost brushing your arm in the process. You wouldn’t mind, it looks silky smooth and the smell of his hair oil makes you want to lean in a little closer. He studies your work as you drink and eventually, with a smirk, says, “You have quite an eye for detail.”

You splutter and he bites his pink lip, trying to smother his smile. He gives you the most innocent look he can muster, but he doesn’t know that you have a retort on the tip of your tongue, just as soon as you stop choking.

“You sound a little bit jealous there, Lucien.”

Feyre laughs and he gapes dramatically, “Maybe, a little.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his antics, the rest of your classmates packing up around you. Cassian’s disappeared from the room already, probably in the restroom changing, and you wonder if he’ll be back for your number like he promised.

In the meantime, you pack your things away, stuffing your extra chalks of charcoal back into your case, along with your cloth and kneaded eraser. You feel confident in the work you’ve done today, so with a last glance at your drawing, you flip your pad shut, taking Feyre’s for her and walking with Lucien to stash them in the assigned drawer you and Feyre share.

“So, are you an art major?” you ask, waiting for the crowd around the shelves to dissipate a little.

He cuts you a suspicious look, but it’s playful. “You didn’t get a glimpse of my drawing, did you? I suppose I can’t blame you with a model looking like that, but it’s entirely awful,” he states, and you stare up at him in disbelief. 

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” you argue, and his lips thin a little as he flips open his drawing pad just enough for only you to see. It’s difficult to hold in the laugh trying to burst from your throat. 

Lucien winces but a puff of laughter follows that makes your shoulders ease. “I told you it was shit, your face only confirmed it!”

There’s no coming back from this one, so you decide to play into it.

“Okay, it’s not great, but I’ve definitely seen worse. You should’ve seen my stuff from last year.”

Lucien rolls his eyes, stepping forward in line. “Oh, I’m sure it was nothing like the gorgeous drawing you’ve managed to pull out of your ass in two hours today,” he scoffs, and you elbow him in the arm gently. “Your drawing literally looks like a photograph!”

It doesn’t, but your cheeks heat at his compliment anyway. 

“I might’ve been doing this a little longer than you have,” you defend. Since you could hold a crayon, to be exact.

He huffs, stuffing his pad into a drawer and offering to help you with yours and Feyres. He pulls your drawer open and you slide the pads inside, stepping out of the way so others can crowd him as he closes up and follows you back to your seats. “Well, then you might have to help me out, because I thought that taking a few drawing classes would help me with my renderings for architecture, but those are all straight lines and circles and this is all curved lines and cock.”

You can’t help but laugh this time, leaning over your horse to pack away the rest of your supplies. Feyre’s all ready to go, face buried in her phone as she texts someone, fingers tapping quickly on the screen.

“You know, if you remove yourself from what you’re looking at, this is all just lines and circles too.”

Lucien slings his satchel over his shoulder, staring down at you with those mesmerizing eyes that shine when he speaks. “Would you want to explain that further sometime, over coffee perhaps?”

You’re a little shocked by his bluntness, but you grin and nod nonetheless. “I’d like that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @vellichor01 @hirah-yummar @girl-who-writes-stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @konaanaria13 @emiler-love @yourdorkiness @azrielsstarlight

[reztoru]

tw / cw : Spoilers if you're not caught up in the manga!!!! Only fluff here

a/n : my contribution to reunion fics. missed my honey bun. </3

w/c : 792

Nothing could have prepared you for Satoru walking through your doors in the dead of night. Here you are, curled up on the couch with a tub of ice cream and teary eyes. You froze mid bite. With the spoon halfway to your mouth. Blinking, once, twice. Rubbing your eyes as he makes his way over to you.

"Thought you'd be a little more excited to see me."

You are; if he's real that is. You're not entirely convinced that he's in front of you. Thus you reach out with a shaky hand, and poke his cheek. The breath you let out is loud; you hadn't even realized you were holding it in.

"it's you," you whisper.

"It's me." Satoru gives you a lopsided smile.

You unravel yourself from your spot. Reaching timidly out to him again, repeating your words over and over. "it's you, it's you." And they slowly become a little incoherent as they morph into quiet sobs. He doesn't waste another second and scoops you into his arms.

What is there to say? Where do you even start?

"We can talk later." He mumbles, as if he knows.

You nod into his neck, burying yourself as far as you can go. Mumbling delicate words, "I missed you."

And you're not sure how reunions between lovers are supposed to go but you had thought that it would be grand and dramatic. Tears flooding the room, and loud wails filling up the spaces the salty waters couldn't reach.

This reunion is anything but loud. It's quiet Filled with shock and grief. There's nothing particularly grand about it. And the wails you had thought were going to come are breathless, trapped in your throat.

It takes a moment before he peels away from you. He bears a huge grin as he holds out a single flower — it's actually a weed. And it feels like for the first time in years, you smile. You chuckle, ready to break the news.

"That's a weed, pretty boy."

"Huh? I thought it was a flower."

You let out a breathy laugh. Taking the little weed into your hands. Eyes gazing on it tenderly as you do, "it's the thought that counts, I suppose."

"I was trying to be romantic. Hoped I could win your heart back if I picked you a bouquet on the way home."

"The bar is low, huh?" You nudge your nose against his cheek, "thank you."

Maybe your love is akin to the little weed he picked up. Unexpected, and with its own sense of beauty. Resilient in its pursuit to survive. Persistent and a little annoying. But through the right eyes they're just as beautiful as the moon flowers they find themselves sprouting next to.

"I missed you," he finally says.

And he sounds a little small; defeated. Nothing like the almighty image he carries. But it's only in the darkness does this side come out — the only time that's reserved for you.

You've found that nights are when lovers meet, because bustling life and busy schedules hold them apart. Or in this case; a box.

The sun tells them, no, the time is not now. But the moon, it welcomes them with open arms, offering the showers of domesticity they've come to enjoy.

This is where Satoru comes to meet you, in the space you've made home. It's only deep into the night where your love bursts into a vivid red glow. It's when he dances with you in your whispered laugh. And when he smiles as you give him a twirl, and it's as he takes you for a dip does his heart kiss yours.

The love you share shimmies around, hopping on its feet in the music you both make. And it simmers when you pull him in to rest against you. Continuing on with a soft sway to the white noise that lingers.

This is an intimacy that’s reserved for when souls collide in these cream coloured rooms. Where the walls are covered in memories and filled with pointless things. It’s where you'll find voices are barely above a soft murmur; scared they'll wake up the world.

And as the silence engulfs you, neither of you really mind. Truthfully, there’s nothing to say, or rather there’s nothing that hasn’t been said. Because even as still as the silence presents itself, it’s heavy and already carries that of which has been spoken before — and will be again.

And perhaps no words really need to be spoken when lovers reunite. The tenderness of touches speak for themselves. And as you both dance in this dimly lit room, you decide to end the night with the words that you've been waiting to say for a while now.

"Welcome home, my love."

[rikiluvly]

MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

🥀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱

tysm to the anon that requested this! <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | more to come...

PAIRINGS: vampire!riki x human!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and your mom move into an old mansion after some struggles. but what happens when the mansion is actually occupied by 7 vampires and the youngest just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

GENRE: vampire au, fluff, a tiny bit of angst.

WARNINGS: mention of food, slight swearing, and Ni-ki is kinda rude.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

PREVIOUSLY ON MIDDLE OF NOWHERE:

"look, don't expect the others to go as easy on you as I did alright?" easy? he scared the living hell out of you two times now.

"when are they coming back?" you wanted to know so you could be prepared. but they could also easily pop up in front of you at any time.

"right about...now," you felt a gush of wind come from behind you, blowing your hair up.

there stood six tall, handsome vampires holding cups of red liquid. which could only be one thing.

blood.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

all those stories about vampires that suck your blood to turn you into one of them… was now seeming all very very real. Dracula was a story you adored the most. only the story you were experiencing wasn’t like Dracula at all. when Harker found out Count Dracula was a vampire he escaped… but it’s too late for you now.

staring at these six vampires sent shivers down your spine. their stares were digging into your soul like daggers trying to pierce your heart, but they couldn't quite reach the other side. the one side where you wanted to go home. home seemed like such a dream right now.

you turned you head to watch Riki’s expression. oh how he looked so happy to see his friends. do vampires really feel like humans? have the same emotions?

“Riki who is this?” the one standing to the far left questioned. the boys dark hair fell in-front of his face covering his eyebrows as he talked.

“just a girl… we got new owners,” the familiar boy replied scratching the back of his head. you just sat there being eyed by the line of boys. you smacked your lips together and went back to eating your food. there was no need to draw attention right?

“what’s your name girl?” another voice asked. your lifted head up only to be met with a figure sitting opposite you on the table.

“y/n… you?” you think you have the hang of introducing yourself to vampires now. basing off of your other experience.

“Jake. Is anyone else here with you?” a slight smirked formed on his face as he spoke. would it be wrong to lie? yes. who knows what they could do to you if they found out you were fibbing.

“just me and my mom,” you tilted your head to look at the others. they looked so sureal, like something that was only to be seen in your dreams. the one standing in the middle brought his cup to his lips and took a drink. a dribble of red liquid ran down his chin until he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“and where is that Mother of yours then?” the in in the middle asked. he seemed a lot colder than the others, more reserved.

“not sure..” you really weren’t sure. what if she was just to come into the room and witness what was going on.

“I- I gotta go, sorry,” you got up and took one last look at Riki as you left the room. you went searching for your mom in every room. you were sprinting a long a hallway until the one and only Riki appeared in front of you.

“what the hell Riki!” I tried to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“your mother is asleep,”

“how do you know?”

“I went to go check on her for you…”

“oh, we’ll thank you.” such a nice gesture for something that could rip you apart when your sleeping.

“well I must get to sleep then.. thank you again Riki,” you said as you walked past him.

“no problem,” he replied in nearly a whisper as you walked away.

you had just finished get ready for a long sleep and was just laying in your bed. you had so many thought running through your mind, ones like how the hell is this happening right now? and what if they were to take my blood in the night?

you sat up and took a look around your room. It was pitch black but you could see silhouettes of objects scattered around. a mirror was placed directly in-front of your bed, you stood up from your position in the bed, switched the lamp on and walked over to it.

there were carvings of rabbits around the frame of the mirror, they looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

a sudden noise started to form from outside your window, you went over to draw your curtains apart.

a figure that you assumed to belong to one of the seven vampires was standing outside staring at the trickling pond. the water was moving in slow waves that was seemed to be controlled by the vampire.

you moved your hand slightly to wipe of the condensation on the window only to knock down a candle that was placed on the windowsill.

the persons head slowly turned around to meet his eyes with yours. eye contact was held for a few seconds until he vanished into the thick, cold air. you felt more nervous of the thought that he would end up in your room.

another noise was heard from the hallway that was outside your room. you walked over the door and peeked your head around the sharp corner, a dark shadow was seen moving across the end of the hallway towards the library.

you know that if you weren’t to exit your room blood would be taken from your body. so the brave soul that you are ventured out into the hallway and made your way towards the dreaded library.

once you reached the library the door was already left open only to reveal the darkness that filled the room. the door creaked as you opened it, once you walked in and switched the light on you were met with a high roofed ceiling that was painted with cherubs and white fluffy clouds.

you ran your hand against the spines of books displayed on the shelf’s. they were covered in thick layers of dust but the spines were incredibly pretty. you turned to leave the room but the person you saw by the pond before was standing right there…

“hello?” I said he walked towards me as he had no expression on his face.

"why are you here? you have no right to be in this room," the door slammed behind him as he took more steps toward you.

"answer me!" he was now towering over you, dominating the space. his sharp canines poked out from under his bottom lip and you couldn't help but look. he brought his hand to your jaw and lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

"I sai- " he got cut off from talking when someone teleported next to him. he grabbed the vampire's hand and ripped it off your face.

"Sunghoon stop harassing her... she doesn't know," the voice was connected to a familiar face. Riki was now standing in front of you, protecting you from the vampire Sunghoon.

"go," Riki said sternly as Sunghoon exited through the rusty door.

"thank you, Rik- "

"why are you here? you need to learn not to wander around so much," he turned around to face you, standing a bit too close.

"I- I saw this shadow walking this way so... I followed it," you tilted your head down feeling slightly ashamed of your foolish behavior. should you have stayed in your dark, lonely bedroom after all?

"that's no shadow y/n, that's out Mother," his voice turned quieter as he looked into your eyes.

"after she died last year her ghost has been foolishly wandering the castle quite a lot, the library was her favorite place, no wonder you caught her coming into here," now that was a surprise, vampires now ghosts?

"I can see why, it's really nice in here," you felt sympathetic for Riki, and the others as well but he seemed really affected by it. as you looked into his eyes for a bit longer you noticed how pretty they were. for a vampire.

"yeah..." his voice drifted off as he maintained eye contact with you. his dark, long hair fell beside the sides of his face. up this close, you could see the beauty marks spotted around his face, the one on his chin caught your eyes the most.

"you have really nice eyes y/n," he whispered as your faces were so close you swear you could kiss him.

and you did just that.

A/N: sorry this isn't the longest fic ever but I put a lot of time into making it good, I hope you enjoy it!!

TAGLIST: @they2luv1naia @lwavander @itzz-me-duh @wzy3ka @lari-05 @entenen @143won @heysunghoon @soobiverse @soneonefromsomewhere @cinasual @j-wyoung @heartbreakrikiversary @lvrcvr

[bobluvbot]

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic. 

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together. 

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous. 

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius. 

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson. 

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly. 

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself. 

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through. 

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth. 

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment. 

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss. 

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea. 

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between. 

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy. 

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically. 

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support. 

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies. 

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair.  An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back. 

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that  laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly. 

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room. 

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back. 

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs. 

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest. 

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.” 

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day. 

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head. 

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland. 

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids.  “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?” 

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard. 

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.” 

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.” 

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see. 

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming. 

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal? 

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges. 

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay. 

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart. 

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only. 

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear. 

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily. 

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.” 

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

[rainylana]

“It’s time to go to the doctor, baby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: an evening at steve’s takes a turn for the worst.

warnings: undiagnosed bipolar, disassociation, depression, language. i have bipolar so this is my experience, it might be different for anyone else so please bare that in mind. it can vary from person to person. i hope this reaches the right audience. having bp is life altering, but we get through it! you’re not alone <3

You only went because you knew how excited Eddie was to see his friends, and you had been too, but when you woke up, you knew it was going to be another one of those days. Something was wrong with you. You didn’t know what, but you knew it was bad. Your body was changing and not for the better. You were too scared to go to the doctor, petrified of what could potentially be wrong with you. Your worst fear was finding out maybe you had cancer or some life threatening disease.

Eddie knew to some degree that you were suffering, but you didn’t let on how much it bothered you. As far as he knew, you were just depressed, in a phase that you would eventually get out of. Neither of you knew how serious it actually was. All day you’d done your best to keep your head high and a smile on your face, and you’d done very well considering.

You were hanging out at Steve’s watching the new Friday the 13th, both Robin and Dustin where there. You tried your best to pay attention to the screen in front of you, but you couldn’t remember what had even happened in the previous scene. Eddie was to your left, hand on your leg, and Dustin was to your right munching on popcorn.

You felt so drained, but not like a tired kind of drained, the worst type of exhaustion you could ever imagine. It was like being run over by ten trains, thrown into a volcano and being punched by a wwe wrestler. That kind of exhaustion. The kind where all you wanted to do was lay on the floor, despite the fact the room was full of people. You couldn’t pay attention to the tv, you kept forgetting what was happening. You didn’t even feel like your body was present, your mind somewhere off far away in wonderland or oz.

It scared you when this happened. Eddie’s hand on your leg felt fuzzy and unreal, Dustin’s shoulder that brushed against yours felt nonexistent. You felt nonexistent. You felt as if your soul was suspended in the air and you were looking down at your body. But how could you explain that to Eddie? He’d think you were crazy, surely! So you suffered in silence.

This had been going on for almost six months. The only person who knew was Eddie. He’d been trying to convince you to go to the doctor to get out on some sort of medication for depression, but you felt ridiculous. It surely had to be all in your head. But tonight, it was starting to take it’s toll on you, the exhaustion.

You felt this overwhelming amount of dread cover your body, like a dark cloudy blanket that dampened your mood like rain. You wanted so badly to cry, but you couldn’t muster up the tears.

“Snack break, anyone?” Steve asked, pausing the movie with the remote.

“Got any of those nacho cheese chips?” Eddie patted your leg.

“You mean doritos?” Dustin laughed, giving him a sideways glance.

All three of the boys laughed and ventured off to the kitchen, leaving you sit in your silence. It felt so good. The tv off, only a flicker or two of static. You felt your brain relax, and you allowed your tears to fall. Your breath hitched in your throat and your face crumpled together. You covered your mouth so no one could hear you, your fingernails digging into your lips.

It took you over, and even though you were sitting on a perfectly good couch, the floor was just calling your name. You crawled off the couch, sinking down to the cold, hardwood floor and curling into a tight ball. Your body relaxed into it’s dead weight, and you let out a whimper that made you shiver.

Their voices sounded underwater, their footsteps vibrating the ground beneath your ear, sounding like loud thumps. You could hear their laughter and giggles, high fives, all muzzled and fuzzy like the tv screen. You could hear Eddie’s voice get closer, high pitched and alarmed. You felt his hands grip your body, trying to pull you up off the floor, but your dead weight wouldn’t allow it. You blinked tiredly, not wanting to communicate with him. You could hear Dustin and Steve come closer.

“Baby,” Eddie shook you, face close to yours so he could search your eyes. “Y/n, what happened! What’s wrong?” He panicked, looking you over for any injuries.

He frowned at the sight of your tears, quiet ones that rolled over your nose. “Sweetheart? Talk to me, angel. Are you alright?”

His palms swiped your cheek to collect your tears, petting your hair and trying his best to lift you off the floor.

“Tired.” You managed to mumble, crying lightly with your hands tucked to your chest. “I’m so tired, Eddie.”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Is she okay?”

“What happened?”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

He ignored the panicked voices of Steve and Dustin, holding his hand to shush them. “Tired?” He said gently, lifting you up into his lap. “Why are you tired, honey?”

You shrugged your shoulders, moving your eyes upward so you could see him. “Something’s wrong with me.”

It clicked to him then what you were referring to, and his face dropped, leaning his forehead to yours as he sighed deeply. “It’s time to go to the doctor, baby.”

You didn’t argue this time, nodding gently. “Yeah.”

He gave you a kiss on your cheek. “Wanna go home? You want me to carry you?”

You allowed him to lift you up in his arms, burying your face in his chest as he opted to leave your shoes at the door. He’d come back and get them tomorrow. He gave a farewell and an apology to his friends, saying he’d explain later as he took you out to his van.

He held your hand on the way home with you laying on the seat, head in his lap. When he got you both home, he carried you inside and laid you on your bed, helping you out of your clothes and into your pajamas. He tried to get you to talk, to open up, but you couldn’t muster up much. You kept saying you needed to rest, you needed quiet.

Eddie was as scared as you to find out what the doctor would have to say.

[bitchlessdino]

thinking about mean dom dino with but twist it with youngest and oldest rivalry of mean dom seungcheol having crazy threesome trying to impress you. and lots and lots heavy degradation.

insane combo.

Pairing: incubus!seungcheol x afab!reader x incubus!chan

Genre: smut, dark, fantasy

Word count: 3.7k

tags: poly, HEAVY degration (slut, whore, stupid) competitive chancheol, lip piercing!dino, banter, unprotected sex, reader with breasts, breed kink, breast play, clit slapping, spitting, spanking, choking, face slapping, oral fixation, ass play, oral (giving and receiving), double penetration, possesive chan, very brief mentions of death

Summary: A human serves one purpose to an incubus like Chan or Seungcheol. They were fuel.

author note: i went a little wild hahaha, my favorite dirty thing i wrote in a while, and i happen to really like how my banner looks, pls look <3

tagging: @candidupped

Chan bemused you the moment he crawled from the deep depths of hell, so he claims, determined to feed on you, the moment he first laid his eyes on you. His eyes flickered of fire red, and the tips of his dark hair met not only his eyes but grazed his broad shoulders. Chan stood before you, like he had discerned his fate in your eyes. He hadn't the slightest idea who you were, but deep down in his nonexistent soul, he craved for you. He had to have you.

You were living a timid cycle of mundane cosplay: working to make ends meet, sending money to family for their support, and putting energy into the world that hardly served you as an individual. It’d be dishonest to say you didn't crave adventure, intimacy, or belonging. You found all that in this strange demon. 

He was mystifying, alluring, strapping. His face was boyish, and if you look too quickly, he would appear deceivingly kind. Despite that, his body is taller, wider, stronger than any ‘boy’ you had come in contact with. Then again, he wasn’t considered a ‘man’ either. No man had this kind of effect on you.

You had not experienced sex like you had with Chan. The way he handled you had a lasting effect. You savored him from his skin that burns like a thousand suns against yours to the cock that plunges into you like he’s playing a melody. The images alone of him restraining, biting you, swallowing nectar from you make your legs shake, your heart pound, the heat between your legs pulse (not that you had much time imagining with Chan).

 No one had made you long for his body day after day, as Chan did. The fact he wasn’t human made all the more sense. You were aware of these mythical creatures, but never did you imagine you’d come face to face with an actual incubus, let alone two.

“You cannot make me.”

“Come at once, young demon. Do not make me repeat myself. You cannot attach yourself to this human. You have duties!”

You sit in silence at the scene before you, shamefully caught nude from the mid-coitus. The new demon had appeared within air, moments away from your intense wave of arousal, only to have your partner ripped off from right on top of you and land harshly on the hard floor with a thud. 

You remember to cover yourself instantaneously with‌ your duvet, frustrated initially, but melt once you meet the eyes of your intruder. He was a tall and astute presence; demand was clear in his eyes. You blink back at him in awe, drawn to him like you are for Chan and now you are unsure where to avert your hungry gaze towards. 

Seungcheol comes to retrieve his younger colleague, forcing his hand to take him back to the underworld before he leaves a permanent mark. You feared it had already gotten too far from that point as you have shared the bed and sexually embraced each other countless nights. The young demon had laid its mark on you and it burned to have him away from you for long. 

Chan refused to leave, finding solace in his comfort mortal and he knew you wouldn’t let him leave either. Seungcheol, although understanding as he sees the energy you emit–a concoction of fatigue, lethargy, and insatiable lust–which makes you the perfect prey for their kind, but he is insistent.

“You have one job here and you must come back home once you are nourished.”

“I don’t care. I am to spend the rest of eternity here with my Y/n. They provide me with all I need!”

He called you his. You could feel blood rush to your cheeks hearing that, bending your neck to look down to avoid any watchful eyes, failing knowing that Seungcheol’s gaze was burning through your skull.

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re being impossible, Chan.”

“You haven’t had a specimen like them, Seungcheol. You wouldn’t be able to proceed accordingly once you have a taste.”

The older demon cocks his brow at Chan, sneering at him as he bends down to meet his eyes. “Your impulse control by choosing not to leave this mortal’s side just further proves you’re a foolish demon. There’s no such thing. I am perfectly capable of anything and everything. They are merely human.”

Chan grits his teeth back at the man. “Care to wager then?”

This piques the elders, gesturing to the younger one to proceed. Chan then goes on to challenge him.He suggests they would both partake in taking you to bed with the same goal in mind: making you as cum as much as possible. Easy enough. If Seungcheol could find himself to resist you after a few rounds of sex, he’d drag Chan right back. If he doesn’t, Chan gets to stay right where he is.

It was just a matter of having Seungcheol understand Chan to a degree. If Chan couldn’t have enough of you, who can say Seungcheol will? It was about time the youngest demon would show that age does not equate skill or power.

Chan takes back his place against the bed, smiling down at you with a knowing smile. He picks you up from the back of the head, colliding with your lips, the metal on the bottom of his mouth cooly grazing against your flushed skin. You feel him smile. Your heart flutters at the most tender gesture he’s ever displayed. “Seungcheol shall join us. Maybe sure to give him a warm welcome.”

You nod gingerly, eyes blown out in lust, letting him take your hands. “Yes, Chan.”

“Good little slut.”

Chan beckons the third over, having their new guest strip down from their attire with your attentive eyes trained on him. The shirt is pulled off his body in a swift move, revealing the rippling torso—pure muscle packed in every sculpture of his body—and the clasp of his pants comes apart, the fabric falling abandoned to the ground. His firm length gets caught in his grasp, a stroke of his hand pulls up from his shaft, and he joins your ensemble with a crooked smile. 

“Let’s see what makes you so special.”

Your throat goes dry in their presence, legs folding underneath you in a position of submission, and you stare back up at their eyes flickering–much like a lit candle that burns brightest in the darkest of spaces—hands shaking in anticipation. 

In minutes, your eyes water from the intense sensation of your core having a pair of lips latched against it. Chan holds you from behind to steady you—caressing your breasts, pinching your nipples, licking up the intoxicating perspired skin on your neck—while he yearns to be the one with your pussy in his mouth instead of Seungcheol. The younger demon growls as he bites down, an anguished yelp leaving your lips.

Seungcheol buries himself deeper between your legs. His hot breath ghosts over your inner thighs, tongue licking stripes over your wet slit, pursing his lips and suctioning them as he feels your fingers thread through his hair. Your jaw drops the harder he persists. Your legs convulse, riding the stranger's face as if it came naturally to you. You have to remind yourself that sex does not occur even remotely close to this, knowing their capabilities are beyond what you’d find outside the walls of your complex. 

“How’s his mouth? Are you enjoying yourself?”

You babble in response. Chan’s question becomes an afterthought. Your tongue twisted in knots as Seungcheol performs splendidly well, his tongue sweeping over your folds before plunging inside, while a looped arm allows his hand to play with your clit, squeezing it harshly. He can’t help but be proud of your response. He had done this countless times on other prey, but yours had to be especially entertaining. Chan averts your attention by pulling back the hair of your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

“Answer when you’re asked a question.” 

You nod back at him, swallowing down your drool, gasping out exasperated, “Yes. He makes me feel…so good…”

Chan sneers at your answer, squeezing the sides of your cheeks with an index and thumb, pursing your lips. “Open,” he demands.

You do as you're told, your wet pink muscle sticks out in front of him, fatigue weighing down on your eyelids making them flutter. Chan shifts his mouth, drawing himself closer, harshly spitting back in your mouth. “Now swallow like a good whore.”

Seungcheol groans deep in your pussy, slapping against the side of your thigh and your body flinches, the spit naturally sliding down your throat. With that, Chan presses the back of your head toward him and meets your lips. You moan between the gap of his mouth, his tongue heatedly caressing yours. His hands fall back against your breasts, finding the sensitive peaks between his fingers before pulling and pinching. His deceivingly sweet laughter plays soothingly in your ears.

“Look at you. Can’t fucking control yourself.” He kneads into your flesh, pulling at your bottom lip, the brush of his piercing making the hairs on your neck stand. “Like how he eats you out, hmm? Better than me?”

You have no idea how to answer. Chan has eaten you out a handful of times, all gut wrenchingly delectable, but could you say that in front of Seungcheol? Would that have been mean? Or if it was the other way around?

It’s like Seungcheol is listening when his pace falters, looking up into your gaze from between your legs. His hair falls to his pretty round eyes, a light dusting of red on his face. He offers you a smile, one that blurs the line between sinister and giving. “Tell him, baby. I won’t get hurt, can’t say the same for Chan.”

Chan drags his tongue on the inside of his cheek, glaring back at the other demon but is only met with a smile on their face as he goes back to engorge on your needy pussy. You helplessly bite back a moan, trying to conjure a response. “I like b-both…but right now…S-Seungcheol.”

The victor rewards you with a fiercer round, having you scream out his name before your legs begin to give out on you. Your knees take either side of head and pushes himself deeper in you, his tongue unmercifully fucking the inside of your warmth. Your legs twitch to his side and you end up holding him down. His hand comes down on your clit in retaliation and you flinch with every time he repeats the gesture.

“Mmh, I’m going to–!” Your liquid heat releases from you like cream, riding the surface of his face like the perfect instrument to catch your cum.

Chan only further enhances the sensation by wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, closing the exits for your breaths. “Stupid slut, take his fucking tongue. Warm yourself for a real good fucking time. Say thank you.”

Your vision dulls, gasping for every possible breath. You hold your hands to cover his and squeeze harder around your throat. A smile stretches over your face. “T-thank you…thank you!”

“You listen so fucking well. Only thing you’re good at besides being a good fucking cumslut for me. You gonna take our cum today? Hmm?”

You nod back at him gingerly. “Yes, please, I want your cum. I want all your cum, please.”

Chan forgivingly lets you go. “Seungcheol my turn. Time to get your dick sucked.”

Smug in the face, Seungcheol rests against the bed frame with now your head between his legs. With your chest down and ass up, you simultaneously offer a view for both of them, caressing the length of Seungcheol cock against your cheeks. Chan remains behind you, only this time he gets to fill your pussy, pressing his tongue on the divide of your ass cheeks. “What a perfect fucking pussy.”

“What a perfect little mouth.” Seungcheol adds, stretching out your lips with his fingers, wetting them down to the knuckles, hearing you gag, before bringing them across your cheek. “You let Chan do this to you every day? You’re being a good, perfect slut to Chan? Of all our species?”

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole, and just enjoy the show.”

Making you flinch, Chan spits into your pussy, watching it drip down your slit, before running up from the top of your pussy to end in eager licks, a cheek in either hand. You let out one last coherent moment before letting Seungcheol’s cock between your lips, and wrapping tightly around his girth, your pupils rolling back to your skull. 

The moisture of your mouth coats the top perimeter of Seungcheol’s cock and he watches with a devilish grin. His bottom lip between his teeth and a brow raising up on his face, feeling you hug tighter around his girth, and the moans muffled around him vibrate against his cock. “Smart little slut, are you?”

His eyes shift in tension, running fingers in your hair until he shows he does it to only push you harder. “Take it. If you can take Chan’s cock, you can most certainly take mine.”

You force his length into your mouth, stretching your cheeks like elastic, and you bobbing yourself down on his cock. Your hands stabilize on his thighs–his thick, firm, rideable thighs–before sliding up his torso, drinking in his sculpted and chiseled abdomen that was hard as rocks. You ingrain the clear image in every wrinkle of your brain, holding on to it like a core memory. If you knew any better, you’d think a god himself sculpted him.

“That’s more like it,” He praises, “See. Multitasking shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Chan finds himself only deeper, lost in your set heat. Tongue gliding effortlessly between your folds, his fingers come behind to join in. That’s when you feel like hell has broken loose. His digits fixate inside your walls, plummeting deeper as a mixture of your arousal and drools dribbling down his chin and seeping out onto the sheets. His cock twitches, feeling the jerk of your hips, flat-handedly coming against the plush of your ass. “You gonna cum again, hmm…” he adds a third finger before he spanks your ass another time, burning hotter than it ever has before, “gonna cum in my mouth like the perfect slut I know you are?”

The delicious tension in your abdomen clenches, holding on to the sensation on his tongue, and letting Seungcheol take free rein of your controls, bouncing your throat over his cock and down his lap. Obscenities leave his lips as if they're in its own language. “Your mouth’s perfect for taking my cock. You like that? Me fucking your dirty mouth? Aren’t I filling you up nicely, little slut? Like you’re made to choke on my cock?”

The venom in the older demon’s words plays a threat to Chan's very existence. He growls in the depths of your heat, distracting you by finding a spot he knows all too well. “Mmp–Ch–”

His name comes out in incoherent, broken language, but he knew it was for him. His digits stretch and move inside you at an unnatural speed, readying your other entrance with a spit on the rim. A familiar sense of gratification enters you, your legs being the first one to discover, but stands tall with Chan’s face pressed against you. 

Meanwhile, Seungcheol is about to discover his own enlightenment, holding your head down as his hips come‌ up. He swears he finds euphoria in your throat and his release is home in your body, filling your cheeks to the brim. When he lets go, there’s not a single thought home, your eyes looking off in his direction like a mindless zombie, desperate to suck off the remainder of his cum that is now leaking from the corner of your lips. He lets out an effortless chuckle, caressing the side of your head fondly. “I think I’m starting to get it now.”

“Good, because here's the fun part,” Chan says.

Chan pushes himself up for his hands to spread you wide; your gaping pretty, little holes perfectly in view. He spits one more time at your rim, letting the moisture slide down decadently. Moans escaping him at its glisten, dangling a translucent ribbon from his tongue before slurping it back in his mouth, obnoxiously loud. He then centers the head of his on your tight rim, adjusting to the stretch to his girth, “Mmm, look at that.”

He pushes himself deeper, the felt of your walls are heaven around him, and he jerks against you, grabbing balls of your ass in his hands. “By gods, you’re perfect for me.”

You’re close to moaning Chan’s name again before Seungcheol takes your head to pull you in a kiss, tastes remnants of himself on your tongue, pulling on your hair like a rag doll. “Say his name again, I’ll make sure you forget what it even is. Say mine, only mine.”

He tugs it on your hair a little harder, a whimper leaves your lips. “Got it?”

“Seung—“

Chan’s hand comes down on your ass, interrupting you. “Not on my fucking watch. That kind of disrespect with my cock in your ass? If you’re not saying my name, you’re not saying his.”

“Brat,” Seungcheol chuckles, reuniting in a heated kiss and sure you bruise and blemish the skin of your lips. He pulls you up and folds you up against Chan, having your heated back fit around his perfectly lean and toned muscles, his fingers find your slit one more, along with its slobber flooding around the entrance. “Chan’s so sloppy.”

The younger one scoffs. “My Y/n doesn’t seem to mind. They’re too cock drunk to say otherwise.”

“That I agree with.” 

Seungcheol makes it so you lean against Chan, taking your legs up to his side. Your entrance stares back at him in desire as if it has a mind of its own, waiting for him to join the other demon. He doesn’t need to say a thing before he plunges his hard length inside you, and groans gather collectively in the room. He throws his head back slightly, dropping his jaw as he adjusts to your warmth, “S-shit, that feels…fucking good.”

“Like perfection.” Chan comments in a daze, having the other lazily nod in agreement. “Yeah, like perfection.”

Your one arm wraps around Seungcheol’s shoulder, the other around Chan, and you envelop yourself in this unexplainable heat, following the movement of these firm, tense bodies wrapped around your figure like a foil around chocolate. “Fuck…that feels amazing…”

Chan pushes your head against his mouth on your mouth, his groans getting caught down your groan, hands finding back on your breasts, holding with all the willpower in his body. Seungcheol may be sharing this moment with him, but you’ll always be his. He wouldn’t let you forget. You are and were Chan’s first. “Tits…ass…y/n…mine…”

There’s an almost desperation in his tone, almost human like, but the thought vanishes as he thrusts harder into you, your voice rasps in ache, whines soft little ‘Yes’s as he swallows your lips. Your light warm breath from your nose feathers against his cheeks delightfully.

Seungcheol grips you against his sides. He watches your sweet interaction with your long time immortal lover, seeing that smile on your face match Chan’s. It’s almost tender, bittersweet, forbidden. And Seungcheol can’t wait to rip apart its very existence.

He claims your neck, marking your skin much like you’re used to from Chan, and you swallow hard and have that shift in your throat apparent under his lips. He travels down your collarbone and over your shoulders, biting raw into your skin. You shudder, his hips grind into your core at the same time and it’s bliss, pure bliss.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you gasp out and their cocks go rampant up your body in an uneven rhythm.

Your bodies collapse on your bed. Chan ensures he’s still connected to you and kisses you with vigor, angst, obsession as his arms loop and clutch around your body. Seungcheol’s legs come around your legs to push deeper and harder. “You like that, don’t you? Two cocks fucking you full?”

“Taking two of our cocks like my perfect cockslut…my cock in your ass, his in your pussy…that gonna make you cum? You want us to fill your pretty ass and pussy with cum?”

You nod, your hand grasping for Seungcheol to come against your side. Your bodies mesh against enough, impossible to find when your individual selves started and where it ended. 

“Well, you better take our cum,” Chan says, “fuck you full with cum from both ends. Breed you until you’re full, hmm? That what you want?”

“Yes, please. I want you to cum inside me,” you plead, tears running down your eyes, “Breed me please. I want–need it so badly.”

“Don’t regret it,” Seungcheol responds darkly.

Your eyes twitch until they close, body convulsing between the two warm cushions. Sounds leave your mouth but no words, only desperate to hold on to the little to no sanity left in your body as they fill you out. Chan is the first to leave his last thrusts, depositing hot, milky ribbons that leak from your backside when he pulls out. It's an image to behold. On the other side, Seungcheol gets a parallel image, the prettiest cunt adorned with white honey, caressing your sensitive folds from all angles. Your breaths begin to even out and energy visibly drains from your body.

You’re malleable, you're weak, you’re lifeless, like the light in your eyes was losing its presence, replaced with a darkness Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain. There’s only the life in your breath that proves you were alive, but in reality, your mind and consciousness are long gone. You should’ve perished like the others, and if Seungcheol was being honest, he thought Chan held himself back to extend this relationship, but no. It was your sheer will that kept you alive.

Seungcheol is beginning to understand Chan was right. There is truth in the younger demon’s words, and even now he had a hard time to believe it. The situation made Chan into some sweet love-stricken puppy, but far from it. Its power disguised as love and somehow you became a limitless, renewable fuel. You had no end and still it was enthralling, validating, addicting. Seungcheol was impressed, and now he wasn’t sure he'd get enough of it.

You had to be his.

Part two

[chaethewriter]

You're my type.

Jack Champion x reader

In which Jack talks about his celebrity crush, leaving you with your own thoughts.

HEAVILY IMPLIED SOUTHEAST ASIAN AND SOUTH ASIAN READER.

USAGE OF READER WITH DARK HAIR.

A/N: rushed this in between my work, enjoy this lowkey terribly written thing <3

"Probably Margot Robbie if she was younger and single you know. I would be like, hey you wanna go.." with Avatar 2 releasing in the cinemas, the interviews with the next gen cast were hitting the charts. Trending on all platforms as they were the face of the upcoming movies. This also meant that their fanbase would skyrocket. Especially Jack's. And you couldn't blame them. Your boyfriend of almost a year was young and handsome, of course he would get the attention. And well deserved. With the amount of focus on Jack, clips about him went viral. And you got across one of those clips.

Probably Margot Robbie if she was younger and single you know. I would be like, hey you wanna go..

You watched a tiktok on your for you page of your boyfriend going on about his crush on Margot Robbie. And she was pretty, beautiful even. But there were these thoughts at the back of your mind.

Was that his type?

Were you even his type?

Margot Robbie was every boy's dream: blonde long hair that sat on her shoulders and those blue eyes that lit up the room. You threw your phone next to you, screen facing downwards as you rested your back against the soft duvet. You gazed at the ceiling, eventually touching your forehead with both of your hands as this was such a stupid situation. You were supposed to meet up with him today, and you couldn't let this entire situation decide how today was about to go.

You had an hour to get ready, both mentally and physically, as you had to get your shit together. He loves you. He chose you. Hell, he made the first move. His celebrity crush shouldn't define who he dates.

But your celebrity crushes are usually the people who you're attracted to right?

Shut up.

You changed into your date outfit, which was harder than usual, because you wanted to look extra pretty for him. Clothes scattered around the room, covering your floor as you dug into your closet. Eventually, you found something pretty. An outfit you had always felt pretty in when you wore it. But once you looked in the mirror, all your confidence fell to your feet.

Was this how he loved you?

Dark hair flowing past your neck with dark eyes staring down someone's soul. Your skin the center of attention in your transparent room. In front of that same mirror, you had done your makeup. Something lightweight, concealer hiding the spots you were insecure about. Eyeliner at the outer corners of your eyes with kohl, as well as your waterline. Applying a brownish lipstick on your lips, because anything shade lighter than that you hated on your lips.

Downstairs, you sat on the couch. Your father at the dinner table with your mother in the kitchen. Your legs bounced as you tried to forget about his words.

Probably Margot Robbie if she was younger and single, you know..

Would he have dated someone who looked like her instead, if he were to meet her right now?

He wouldn't right?

What if he felt attracted to her, what then?

Too lost in your thoughts, the knocking on the front door remained unanswered. "Open the door, I think it's your white boyfriend." Your father had yelled from the dinner table, not looking up from his phone. The volume of his tone kicked you right out of your thoughts. You got up from your seat, your knees buckling as you walked towards the door. "Hii baby!" His smile reached his eyes as he immediately pulled you in a tight hug, his nose burying into your hair as he slightly bended over. This could almost make you forget about your worries. Almost.

You were short, to say the least. You just reached his chest as he was incredibly tall for his age. You were the average height for your people, but for Westerners, it would seem incredibly short.

"Hi, love." You stood on your tippy toes with your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to you to press a kiss against his rosy lips. Butterflies tickled your stomach as his plump lips pressed against yours. He was the one to pull away first, gazing into your eyes with his nose scrunched up, "You look so pretty, baby. All that for me?" You could feel your cheek warm up and as a response you broke eye contact with him.

He smiled at you, your shy demeanor so cute to him. Behind you, a lot of movement occurred. It made Jack look up, coming face to face with your father.

"As-salamu alaykum, sir." His American accent obvious as he spoke. This time, it was his turn for a blush to creep onto his cheeks. You have been together for almost a year, but he still had yet to win over your father's heart.

"Wa-Alaikum-Salaam. She's home by 7pm without tears. Bring her home. Have fun." Your father was extremely stern, his words extremely to the point. Yet, he always made sure to end his speech on a good note.

"Of course, sir! I will get her home safe and sound!" While holding him in your arms, you felt him stiff in your hold. It made you giggle. Your 6'1 "foot boyfriend shaking in his shoes in the presence of your much shorter father.

You had greeted your father in a rush, pulling your boyfriend with you as the two of you headed towards his car. He had opened the door for you, "get in, milady." You chuckled at his little acts of service, thanking him as you sat down on the passenger's seat. Jack walked to the other side of his car and took a seat next to you, "Where to, pretty?" His hand was already resting against your thigh, awaiting your answer. Dates with Jack were always unexpected. It was always where the moment took the both of you.

"Mall?" You shuddered as his fingers ran against your skin, the thin material of your pants not offering much cover. "Sure thing, whatever my girl wants."

The ride was quiet, your fingers playing with his free hand as you gazed outside the window. He treated you so well. So why were you feeling like this?

"What's up, pretty?" He noticed your unusual behavior. Of course you did. How couldn't he? He was by your side from your highest to your lowest, he basically knew almost everything about you.

You bit your bottom lip as you pulled at his skin, "nothing."

A lie.

Once again, silence filled the car with the radio playing as a background noise. Should you just tell him? Now? Before it could ruin your date?

"Tell me?" He put his car in park once he found an empty place in the parking lot, pushing his seat back for enough space between him and the steering wheel. To pull you by the arms onto his lap. You were facing him now, completely stunned with this action.

"Tell me, pretty girl." He pressed a kiss against your nose, his hands on your waist to keep you secure, "what's wrong?"

Communication was important.

It was the key.

"Promise you won't get mad?" You played with his shirt as you spoke, your gaze locked on the necklace lying against his collarbone. The pendant wad a pretty pink rose quartz, shaped into a heart. You remembered gifting him it as a way to hint your feelings to him. The color didn't match the color palette of his outfit, but he still wore it around his neck, almost proudly.

"You're thinking too hard with that pretty little brain of yours. I'm sure I won't get angry with you, babe."

"Uhm, okay." You took a breath, your fingers now tracing the cord of the necklace, "am I your type?"

Silence.

It made you look up at him, your eyes wide as you awaited an answer from him. A smile made its way on his face, immediately leaning down to press a firm kiss against your lips, "of course you are, why are you asking?"

"The interview, you uhm," you tried to gather your words in a sentence that would make sense and Jack gave you all the time you needed. His hands rubbing your back reassuringly as he watched you intently.

"You said you would shoot your shot with Margot Robbie."

Jack had opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, "I don't look like her. So you know, I thought—" this time, he cut you off with a deep kiss. A tender one, one that held so much meaning. Passion. Love. One of his hands traveled towards your cheek, caressing it as he deepened the kiss. Your hands stayed at his chest, clutching onto his shirt.

He had pulled away from the kiss to gasp for air, "I love you." He breathed out against your lips, "I love all of you." He continued, pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose, "I love this."

A kiss against your eyelid.

"I love this."

A kiss against your cheek.

"I love this."

Your forehead.

"I love this."

Your lips.

"And I love this."

"I'm so different from her, look at me! I'm—"

"Beautiful." He finished your sentence with lovesick eyes. "You're beautiful."

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jackchampion me when she's the one having my last name @ justy/n

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-> jackchampion love you❤️

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-> jackchampion watch it happen, I will manifest it🌕

[bakubunny]

Please, please bunny, I need back of the truck stargazing date with Kirishima 🥺♥️ I need it like I need to breath. It doesn’t even have to get to the smutty part of making love in the truck bed (but if it does, that would be the best bonus), I just neeeed sweetheart Eijirou ♥️ I humbly request the rock hard soft boi

ugh ugh ughhh i am so excited to do this but fair warning i may end up writing another truck date as a full blown one shot at some point with a different premise if that’s okay with you? <3 i hope this lil ficlet feeds your soul for now.

tw: suggestive themes, l-bomb, f!reader

Eijiro hummed along to the radio as he drove down the dark road. His massive hand rested on your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze before he pulled off the beaten path onto a gravel road. Eventually he came to a clearing overlooking a nearby lake. The hum of his bright red truck died down. He took the soft cover of the truck bed off to reveal a mattress, a pile of blankets laid out with pillows, a bluetooth speaker, and your favorite drinks and snacks.

He pulled you into a tight embrace. “Happy an anniversary, sugar.”

“Happy anniversary. This is perfect,” you replied.

“Only the best for my girl,” he said with a grin.

Eijiro gave you a kiss on the forehead. He lifted you into the truck bed before climbing in. You both knocked off your shoes at the end of the bed and got cozy. He pulled up music that played softly in the background as you sad under the stars.

You stare into the twinkling sky when you realize that, as you two talk, he’s staring at you. You thought when you’d started dating that you’d someday get used to the way he looks at you with a warmth and tenderness, even in the dark, but it never failed to make your cheeks flush just a little.

“…Yes?”

“You’re beautiful. I like looking at you when you talk, pretty girl. I thought you knew that by now,” he teased as he finally turned his eyes to the sky.

You sighed. “I do know that, thank you.”

“What, am I making you blush?” Eijiro’s tone was playful as he rubbed your arm with the hand around your shoulders.

Your cheeks heated up further. “You know what? Yes, you are. You still make me blush when you look at me like that.”

He laughed and gave you a squeeze.

“Look at you like what?” He already knew the look he had on his face - one of affection and care - but this was the first time he’d asked you about it.

You pondered a smart remark but decided against it as you turned to him as he watched the stars.

“You look at me like I’m the only person in the room. Like I’m the one who painted the sky and hung the stars,” you said.

Eijiro looked down at you. He stroked your cheek. “You are the only girl in the room. The only one I want to see. Don’t ever forget that,” he said quietly.

He kissed you tenderly. Shifting his body downward, he laid down and gave his chest a pat. “Snuggle with me.”

You curled up into his arms, half wanting to leave your head on his chest, half wanting to look at the sky, so you did a bit of both.

Eventually, Eijiro’s hand ran down your head and neck to your chest, then your waist. You laid back as he moved to his side to pepper your cheek and neck with chaste kisses. He nuzzled into your skin with his arm tightly around your waist, inhaling the faded scent of your shampoo with contentment.

“I love you, Eiji.”

“I love you, too,” he said, his breath tickling your neck.

A quiet peace settled in the air as you laid together, music softly playing in the background, so much so that sleepiness began to take hold. You didn’t really mind that so much even though this was supposed to be a “date.” Resting in his arms, a hand reaching up to run through his hair, your eyes fluttered shut for a long moment.

Eijiro kissed your neck again; it was soft and slow, something he’d intended to merely be pleasant enough to make your breath catch for a moment, and it did. With skill and familiarity, he went directly for the places he knew would make you shudder as his lips grew more fervent and his teeth grazed your neck, trailing up to your ear. Even in the haze of sleepiness, a heated throb rushed to the apex of your thighs. A soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Baby, stop.” Your tone was halfhearted in your objection.

A smile crept across his lips as he continued anyways. His hand moved up your body, gently squeezing your chest on its way back up to cradle the other side of your neck, stroking your cheek as he did.

One song faded into another, and the familiar sound of an acoustic guitar filled the speaker. Whether it was happenstance or the universe aligning in that moment, it didn’t matter, the song was fitting. Eijiro paused for a moment and half sang the words into your skin until you joined him.

“Look at the stars, look how they shine for you….”

He laced your neck with kisses between the words, soon abandoning mumbling the tune altogether when he shifted and closed you in with his body. Eijiro gripped and ran his hands along your thighs as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Soft lips met yours, large warm hands held your face as you kissed. You pushed him away weakly for a moment, not really wanting him to stop, but knowing that if someone came by, you didn’t want to get caught.

“Eiji….”

He heard it in your voice as he leaned back in to kiss his way down your jaw. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“Let me love you,” he whispered. “Please.”

With an unspoken understanding, you gave in to his request when his eyes met yours and you tilted your chin upward for a kiss.

Eijiro’s hips rolled into yours, and a soft moan fell from your lips. Again, and you reached up to pull his body in closer still, the heat and firmness of his cock pulling more pretty sounds from you that he wished would never end.

[corrupted-nightshade]

List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother

(If they did kiss though is another story)

Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3

Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.

--- Last updated: April 26th, 2024 Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.

Various

572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)

JJK official fanbook

"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto. A: Bangs."

"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover? A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."

"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design? A: Bangs"

One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.

The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)

Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)

Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan

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Jujutsu Kaisen 0

Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa

Gojo stating in 0 that

"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."

Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)

Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because

"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."

This sunset scene

Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]

The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation

The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name

Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime

Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines

"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."

"But to Gojo Satoru, he was —— '————, ————' '...ha.' When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before. 'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.' December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."

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Season 1

JJK Juju stroll

"Q: What kind of person is your type?" Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."

yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀

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Season 2

Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)

THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??

They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???

Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3

Part 1 / volume 8 - 9

The intro for season 2 part 1

"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"

"In such a color as if it were a silent love"

"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"

The outro for season 2 part 1:

"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"

"It only exists here I want to touch you"

The fish in the outro

The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]

The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.

The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.

[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]

Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once

When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

Part 2 / volume 11

This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)

Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning

Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.

"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body? A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."

Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)

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Volume 26

The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.

Chapter 236

Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with

"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"

These lines

Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)

---

There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)

[stuckymonkey]

Kinktober Day 3: Bondage

Bucky Barnes

word count - ~1k

a/n - this work was inspired by a photo by @/fakesngays on Twitter:

Anyways-

Since coming out of the ice, obviously things were different. What Bucky hadn't expected however was the way people were so open about sexuality and pleasure. After coming out of hiding, Bucky had a lot of time on his hands, most of which he spent learning about the new world, space, media and conspiracy.

Eventually, kinks got added into the mix of topics to be researched.

You and Bucky had been dating for over a year and your sex life was far from vanilla. Bucky found pleasure in both dominating you and submissing to you. You prided yourselves on your level of communication and ability to share desires and fantasies with eachother.

So when Bucky came to you one night and asked you to tie him up, you were more than willing. With some help from outside sources (cough cough, Tony) you were able to have some special handcuffs made so Bucky would genuinely be restrained.

The vibranium handcuffs and kevlar ropes surprised him when he came home that night. He was eager to strip just like you'd asked him, and he willingly stood still while to secured the bonds, having each limb restrained. He tugged at the bonds, testing their strength.

When he found them indeed much stronger than he had originally thought, he was both aroused and nervous at the level of power you now had over him.

Don't get him wrong, he trusted you body, mind and soul. He was yours entirely. But he knew you loved to tease.

"Ready?" You purred, crawling to him. Your seductive moves excited him, his cock stirring to attention. "Yes ma'am." He rasped.

"Good. I think you're going to like this."

What felt like hours later, Bucky was a sweaty, moaning mess. You had edged him at least a dozen times, letting him beg and whine for release. "It's okay baby, be my good boy, I know you can take it love." And he did. He took everything you gave him, over and over and over.

His head hung, watching as you kissed and licked up his thighs. You took your sweet time, making sure every inch of skin had been kissed and nipped. He groaned at the sight. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, blinking slowly. A strangled moan escaped him, you knew all of his weaknesses and you were determined to break him.

Finally, you reached his inner thighs. just by his crotch. "Come on y/n, baby, please." You licked around his length, beside his heavy ball sack and up his abdomen, kissing and biting at the tender skin of his hips.

He tried squirming, aiming his length at your mouth. You slapped his dick away, earning a sharp hiss from James. You pulled back to look at your pretty baby.

He stood tall, yet so defeated, legs and arms spread wide for you. His purple cock head was leaking trails of precum that pooled on the sheets. Hickeys covered his chest, abdomen and inner thighs. The dark purple on his tan skin aroused you, knowing he was yours. You owned him, and he owned you too.

You slowly leaned forward and blew cold air over his cock, making it twitch. Bucky pulled at the ropes. "Please! Please, let me out," He sobbed, tired of the teasing and edging.

You ignored his pleas, taking his member in your mouth instead. Your tongue circled his cock, tracing the vein and flicking over his frenulum. He bucked his hips into your face, making you gag softly. You slapped his thigh harshly.

He let out a low cry and thrust his hips once more, earning a harsher slap over his already red leg.

You took his cock back in your mouth, this time just holding it there, not moving a muscle. "Y/n, this isn't fair, please, please, I need you," You just stared at him, unmoving, enjoying his displeasure.

After a few minutes of Bucky taking deep breaths and trying to be good, you took his length all the way down your throat until your nose settled in the curly thatch of hair at the base of his cock. "Yes, Yes! Please! Oh, God."

You started moving your head slowly, and Bucky knew better to test you now. Although he didn't move his hips, his limbs fought against the restraints. He tugged and writhed, core lit on fire from the way you were taking his cock down your throat.

He whined and begged, trying to be patient as you took him apart. Slowly, you pulled off his cock, letting a string of spit connect you to it before going down to his balls. You took one in your mouth at a time, swirling your tongue and relishing in the texture of them. Bucky keened and whimpered as you sucked and licked. They were firm and heavy in your mouth, ready to cum.

You pulled off after making sure each side of the sack got equal treatment. Leaning back on you heels, you took in the sight of Bucky for the last time. His chest heaved and drool was escaping the corners of his mouth. beads of sweat coated his forehead and abdomen. His eyes never left yours, ready to obey despite being restrained.

teasingly, you stroked a finger from his toes to his metal shoulder. You kissed his lips tenderly, pulling away to see him try and chase your lips. He tilted his head, trying to regain your lips. You gave in, kissing him while untying his bonds. He gasped into the kiss. As soon as his arms were free, they came to your cheeks, holding you as if he wasn't sure whether to believe what was happening or not.

His legs were next, and once they were freed he collapsed onto the bed. Quickly, Bucky rolled over and pinned you under him. "Missed you so much," he whispered, tucking his face in your neck. "You did so good baby," He moaned softly, letting you grasp his cock and line it up to your entrance.

He gasped, feeling overwhelmed at finally being sheathed in your wet cunt. "Y/n!" His hips started moving immediately, not giving you any time to adjust. "Fuck!" His hips were unforgiving as he pounded into you, his thighs hitting yours with each thrust. It didn't take long for his cock to start brushing up against your g-spot, making you cry out and see stars.

The roles had been switched since Bucky got free, as he now started dominating you and guiding you through your pleasure. He used your body for his own pleasure, gripping your hips in a bruising grip.

After a few short thrusts he came with a loud cry, never ceasing the snapping of his hips. Bucky's hand threaded through your hair, pulling harshly and forcing you to meet his eyes. "Come on baby, you gotta cum for me," He said, "You just gotta cum and then we can rest, okay? Cum for me sweets," He continued to thrust, removing his hand from your hair to twist your nipples. You gasped at the touch.

"B-Bucky," "I'm right here," You pushed his mouth over one of your awaiting tits before crying out as you came around him. "Bucky!!"

"Fuck, so sweet doll, coating me so nice," His hips slowly came to a halt. After pulling his length out of your sopping hole he helped to clean the both of you up.

Aftercare that night was spent cuddling and watching movies in the hands of your love.

I hope you guys liked this!! I don't have a taglist but feel free to turn on notifications! All interactions/likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated!!

[luvtak]

corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters. 

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky. 

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him. 

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away. 

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy. 

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there. 

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own. 

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,” 

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story. 

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking. 

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime. 

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity, 

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.” 

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being. 

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.” 

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper. 

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch. 

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[fourmoony]

MWAH i beat you to it !

reader is a sacred 28 kid and rebels like sirius, forming a close bond with the boys especially remus <3 but even after everything, reader sides with voldemort, having to fight against her friends in battle </3 if this didn't make sense no worries, i love all of your work lovely, have a wonderful day !! 💞✨

omg i'm blushing!!! thank you sm for requesting lovely!! have a wonderful day right back <3 i suck at writing battle scenes so I skipped that, hope you don't mind!!!!

f!reader 1.2k words cw: mentions of all horrible things to do with the black families behaviour, mentions of war

"I don't get it." Sirius shakes his head, brows furrowed. Like it's a joke he can't grasp the punchline of. A sick, cruel joke.

James and Remus are yet to say anything, at all. It weighs heavy throughout the room, their silence. The ache in your heart keeps growing and growing, down to the marrow in your bones, your soul. It doesn't matter that a part of you knew this was coming - from the moment muggles started to disappear all over the country, when the whispering grew more common at balls and gatherings amongst the sacred families. It doesn't matter that you knew you'd be forced to pick a side sooner or later, because you never knew it would hurt this much, could never have prepared for how unfair it feels.

Remus won't meet your eyes. That doesn't matter either, because all he would find is cold indifference. The reality, unfortunately, is that you will be accepting of this role, of this life, of the evil person you will become, the things you will do. As your father's only heir, it is your duty. Much like it had once been Sirius' duty. Before he'd run. You'd never been as brave as Sirius. Rebellious, yes. Brave, no. He'd run and was better for it. You'd run, and your family would never stop hunting you, hunting the people you love.

So you allow the mask to slip over your face, allow the hurt to bleed internally, because soon, it'll stop. Soon, you'll become so cold that you won't feel it anymore.

"What's not to get, Sirius?" James asks, voice thick.

With anger, with sadness. With betrayal. You don't blame him. James, aside from Sirius, who you'd known since you were babies, was your first friend. Fast and hard, you'd been enthralled by James Potter. Best friends by the end of the first week at Hogwarts and inseparable ever since. He'd had hope. Always, always, had hope. James is the sun. He sees the best in everyone, in everything, and he'd had hope that you'd change your mind. That you'd leave your family and the sacred twenty-eight behind. Or, at the very least, stay out of the war that loomed over all of your heads. You'd taken that hope and crushed it with a simple sentence. Right into dust.

"How? How can you just..." Sirius trails off, winces as though the sentence brings him physical pain.

He can't say it. Can't say that after everything; the pranks, the friendship, the family built, that you're getting up and walking away. Picking the other side. He'd thought you better than that and you know it must hurt worse because Sirius knows. He knows too well that it could've been him, cowardice and too afraid to walk away.

He could've been branded with the mark that sits heavy, now, against your covered forearm. A reminder that you can never go back. Not in any way that matters.

"It is my duty Sirius. You'd know about that if you hadn't abandoned it." You reply, cold, indifferent. Your voice sounds foreign, acidic as it comes from your mouth. You try not to choke on the words.

Your best friend flinches as though physically hurt. The words were intended to sting, intended to break down that metal shield he wields so well. You need them to hate you. Need them to let you walk away. Remus finally looks up. Hurt swims in his eyes. Defeat, too. He'd known. Of all of them, he'd known how hard you tried to fight it, how much you tried to push back. And in the end, you'd given up. You'd allowed the darkness of your birth right, your family, that stupid fucking sacred twenty-eight, to swallow you whole. To take you from him.

It cracks and shatters and splinters your heart, that his gaze turns hateful, cold. He's never looked at you such a way in all the years you've known him. Remus is your best friend, your soulmate. Two twin flames, caged animals scared of their own capabilities, pushed around and torn down countless times. The only difference is, you're allowing yours to be set free. Remus never allows the wolf to win.

He'd always understood you best, even in ways Sirius could never.

"He didn't abandon anything. He ran for his life." Remus' voice is sharp as razors, the unbridled fury unlike you've ever heard before.

But you don't back down. Chin raised, your eyes narrow upon him, "If he didn't spend all his time desperate to be someone he's not, pretending to be someone better, he might have been something."

Sirius seems to collapse into the chair, at that. As though the defeat has washed over him, accepting that you're gone, out of reach.

James' look of horror banks itself in your memories, a box you'll lock and throw away the key for, later. When this is done. You force your hands not to shake as you bite, "But you are not better, Sirius. You cannot outrun your bloodline, the Black name. You are one of them, rotted and twisted. Just like you feared. Only now, you're a stain on the family tree. Even they don't want you."

Your soul shakes at the way Sirius gets up and walks out of the room, the way he slams the door shut so hard it shakes the photographs on the walls. Photographs of you all, kept dusted and pristine by James' mother. Your heart breaks in two at the disgust in James' eyes, the white hot anger in Remus'.

"Let me see it." Remus demands.

He stands, tall and menacing in a way you never thought he could be. Remus, your Remus, always so careful and gentle. His hand reaches for your sleeve and you stand, too, dodge his harsh grip by the skin of your teeth. Your blood spikes.

"You didn't." James whispers, eyes distant.

It hurts. It hurts so much you want to rip your own skin off to be free of the shame and the pain, the way you already miss them. But you think of the darkness, of the blissful emotionless darkness that faces you once you are free of them. Once they hate you. Once you fulfil your duties, your birthright.

Remus' eyes are demanding, and before he can lunge at you again, you pull up your sleeve. Your best friends. They look at you like a stranger. The house falls silent, the world falls silent as the invisible string between you pulls taught and snaps. With it, the final piece of your soul withers up and dies. It's done.

"Leave."

James looks to Remus, his friend shaking so violently he thinks he might actually strangle you.

"We could've kept you safe." James pleas, standing as though he can sense you're about to leave. That he's never going to see you anywhere other than on the other side of a wand, again.

"I made my choice. I'll see you on the battlefield."

You don't spare them a glance as you disapparate, wind and nausea pushing against you as you tumble, landing directly into the darkness of your bedroom. Then, and only then, do you allow yourself to shatter into a million, tiny pieces.

[akantorrr]

Gerione (Ultrakill OC) reference masterpost just cause I don't know where else to post it :'>

I know there's a ton of problems with the info, especially knowing how Violence will generally look, but I came up with this boi before we got a single snapshot so uhhhhh I'm still keeping em as my dream 7-4 boss lmao

(Copy-pasted from its ArtFight page)

ULTRAKILL OC, a Hell Mass chimera and Supreme Demon, inspired by Dante's Inferno's Geryon, or Gerione in Italian. (it/they/him) From Wikipedia cause I'm lazy and words are hard: "Dante's Geryon is an image of fraud, combining human, bestial, and reptilian elements: Geryon is a "monster with the general shape of a wyvern but with the tail of a scorpion, hairy arms, a gaudily-marked reptilian body, and the face of a just and honest man". The pleasant human face on this grotesque body evokes the insincere fraudster whose intentions "behind the face" are all monstrous, cold-blooded, and stinging with poison.", but its purpose in the Divine Comedy is to transport Dante and Virgil from Violence to Fraud, by jumping on its back and it bringing them down the cliff/crater that separates the two layers. - Gerione is one of, if not the only hell mass demon capable of some sort of vocalization, being able to hiss, gurgle, and to some extent roar. - The inspirations for this... thing... were the Leviathan and Hideous Mass from Ultrakill, the Bell Gargoyles from Dark Souls 1, and for the sounds I imagined it would make, the Kaiwhekea from Path Of Titans (specifically when out of the water) - I classified it as Supreme Demon since it's the same class as Leviathan, and I imagined Gerione being the final boss of Violence, in 7-4. - The arena where Gerione awaits the player is an amphitheatre/semi-circle shaped cave on the edge of a dark pit. Said pit is shrouded in darkness, and somewhere in there lies the elevator shaft to the Fraud layer. Beating (or befriending) Gerione is the only way to gain access to the 8th layer. - Its fight is optional (like the Ferryman's). To fight it, one must simply shoot it (punching or slamming it doesn't trigger the fight) To avoid the fight, one the player has to jump onto Gerione's back and stand on its hip, where there's a stone seat/saddle. This will lock the player's movement, Gerione will then stand up, turn around, roar once, after which the darkness in the pit will dissipate enough to reveal the red door to the next layer, and Gerione will jump into it, with the player on its back. This will end the fight and the level, and will also complete the challenge for the level. - In fight, Gerione is really agile and often zips and jumps around, taking stabs at the player to then back away. Its signature attack is a charged tail thrust, where if the hit connects, it'll deal 25 damage on hit and proc the Bleeding effect, where the player will recieve 4, 10 damage hits in the span of 3 seconds. The attack can be dodged with a well timed dash, and is parriable. Other attacks include a 3-hit combo of slash-slash-bite (last bite is parriable), a downwards slam/slash with its front paw (parriable), a tail swipe (parriable), a quick series of 3 charges that cover the majority of the arena (not parriable), and an attack in which Gerione moves in a semi-circle (clock-wise), attacking first with a bite, then with a quick kick leading into a hop, setting some distance from the player. Parrying the first bite cancels the attack and makes Gerione flinch. - Gabriel is very fond of it and treats it like a big puppy, Gerione heccin loves it and is all for it (chuff chuffs when it gets pat pats) - it name jerryy