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florence-nomachine · 2 months

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Dirty Little Secret - Derek Danforth x GN! Reader

Even with a roster of sexual partners, Derek Danforth keeps coming back to you.

A/N: I conjured this idea basically the moment Wallace started laying into Derek lmfao. You don’t have to have watched The Beekeeper to understand this (It’s chaotic and generic, but I had fun!) - Just know Derek is a coke and vape addicted, multi-millionaire crypto-selling playboy scammer who’s also the son of a president?😭

The place mentioned in this fic (‘The Warehouse’) is fictional and not featured in the movie!

Word count: 1.3K

Tags: SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Drug usage (Cocaine) / WARNING: READER DOES A HIT OF COCAINE / Oral sex, M receiving / Degradation / Dirty talk / Implications of cheating / A little angsty, if you squint / This is just Reader giving Derek a blowjob so Minors DNI

‘Need u. Meet me at The Warehouse’

You needn’t check the message twice to know who it was.

There was only one person in your life who spoke to you like this; who disappeared on most weekdays, only to show up on weekends between the hours of midnight to 5AM without a care in the world. The man’s name was Derek Danforth, a guy who ‘just happened’ to be the son of now President, Jessica Danforth.

You hadn’t met him through any lavish political gala, nor from a meet-and-greet after an inspiring TED Talk - no, he’d chosen the oh-so classy way to slide into your DM’s on Instagram. You’d come to know that fast and sleazy was Derek’s brand.

At first you’d thought it was a scam, not wanting to believe that a millionaire would even bother to speak to you, but a quick $100 transfer into your linked account had told you otherwise.

‘Think I’m real now?’ He’d messaged back, and it was from there that he’d sent a valet to your place for what was supposed to be a hookup.

He’d fucked you so good that night; the feel of his fingers gripping your ass as he pounded into you from behind still etched into your skin. He’d left marks; from marks sourced from his rabid teeth on your neck, to marks from the metal of his rings that had dug tiny scratches into your flesh. He hadn’t shut up the entire time, grunting and groaning in your ear about how much of a dirty slut you were, and how good your tight hole felt against his cock. He’d probably said that to all the people he’d fucked.

Still, it got to you, and apparently to him also. What started as an unsuspecting DM turned into full contact, with 3AM calls and erotic FaceTime sessions. Derek was often high off of coke, or drunk, or somewhere in between, all whilst puffing on his vape, huffing the thick white air like a dragon. Fitting, because he was dangerous.

And you’d been pulled into his shiny lair once again.

The Warehouse, or what you liked to aptly dub the ‘Whorehouse’ was an underground club, apparently run by Derek’s dealer. Yes, Derek hadn’t even had the courtesy to take you to one of his many properties to do his business, deciding that a sweaty basement would be best for you.

At least you could somehow remain anonymous.

“Knees, now. I want a blowjob,” Derek said in his usual dismissive tone as he slumped on a red couch before leaning forward and sprinkling a white powder on the table. You rolled your eyes as he snorted it, watching as he ran a hand through his mullet, absorbing the endorphins into his bloodstream.

He looked up at you with furrowed brows. He wasn’t one used to dealing with insolence.

“I don’t have all day.”

“Jeez, a ‘hey’ would be nice,” you grumbled. “I had to work overtime, I barely even got settled at home —“

“So? I don’t fucking care,” he scoffed. “There’s a couch, you can settle here.”

You knew damn well there wasn’t going to be any ‘settling’. And as much as you hated it, you loved it.

Derek spread his legs expectedly as you dived between them, struggling with his zipper to take out his hard cock. It didn’t matter if he was average sized - he'd more than proved himself to know how to use it. Still, it never got lost on you as to how thick he was, the filling sensation of his cock in your mouth for the first time becoming one of your favourites.

He was already leaking precum, and you wasted no time in licking the fluids up before moving down to the rest of his length, with your hand planted firmly on the base of his cock. You started off with slow, but deliberate motions, desperate to feel his girth in every crevice of your mouth, motivated by the male’s drawn out moans. His head was flung back against the top of the couch, arms spread as he basically gave himself up to you - one of the rare times he would only surrender.

Until he got impatient and placed his hands on the back of your neck, grip firm as he began to drag your head up and down his length, demanding you increase the pace. Pools of spit began to build up inside of your mouth as he did, accommodating to the sudden force. Every time you retracted from his length, the pink flesh began to glimmer; shine, even, as you serviced it. To some, it was a taboo and demeaning act, but to Derek, it was the ultimate act of your submission and devotion to him. To this day, even a year on from your first encounter, you couldn’t understand why he kept coming back to you.

“Fuck,” he drawled, clenching his teeth down on his bottom as he heaved. “You’re so fucking good at this - It’s like you were just made for my cock…”

The statement caused your stomach to backflip, only encouraging you to take him deeper. His thick head was now inches away from the back of your throat, threatening to make you gag. Unfathomably, you seemed tempted to take that risk, but Derek intervened.

“Here,” he said flatly as he gently pushed you off of him, leaning down towards the table. “Try this,”

He rolls up a fifty and guides your head along the white powder. Your nose tingles and your heart clenches a little, but there’s no immediate effect.

“It’ll take a while, but trust me, you’ll fucking feel it,” Derek smirks, drawing you from your thoughts. “Good thing we’ve got all night,”

It wasn’t long before you were back on his cock, vessel gripped firmly in your hand as you began to stroke him up and down, in tandem with the movements of your neck.

“You’ve never had blow like this before,” he laughs, hands frantic as they gripped at his thighs, trying to hold them still. “Then again, you’ve never had a dick like this before either, hm? Don’t you have a boyfriend to go home to? Poor guy. I must have you whipped…”

Desperate to respond, you popped his cock out of your mouth, but he held up a hand to

silence you.

“I really don’t need to fucking hear it,” he chuckled. “You’re such a slut, you know that? You suck my dick, moan like a bitch, and keep coming back for more, but here you are arguing with me…I’m beginning to think you like this little relationship of ours,”

Who was he kidding? You both knew the truth.

You hummed, and Derek ran his tongue over his teeth, his bouncing leg beginning to quicken. His hands found your head, gripping the back of your neck as his cock began to twitch, vein throbbing against the flat of your tongue. He was always his most animalistic in the heat of the moment; and even though you enjoyed the culmination of your hard work, it was also the time where he spouted things, words and phrases that you knew were nothing but bullshit, and yet clouded your eyes with hope.

“Moan for me,” he grunted, pupils blown as they focused on the pornographic display below him. “Tell me that I’m the best you’ve ever had,”

You let out a whine, and he hummed.

“Worship me,” he continued. “Show me how much you love me…Fuck – Open your mouth…!”

Swiftly, Derek removed his aching member from your mouth, eyes wide as he watched a bridge of saliva form from your raw lips to his skin. With a few slick pumps, his fell half lidded as he came over your face, streaks of white fluid coating your cheeks and lips, with some even falling in your lashes and dripping onto your nose. He convulsed, as if he were temporarily losing grip on his sanity and panted as he tried for air. He ran his hands across his beard before he cupped your cheek, an indiscernible look in his eye before he patted it.

“Clean yourself up. I want you nice and fresh for round two.”

It pained you that you were so enthusiastic to oblige.

#florence writes!!#derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #the beekeeper #derek danforth smut #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #x male reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic

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avatartophblindbanditbeifong · 10 months

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Bloody Knuckles and Palm Kisses

Miles Morales x Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: blood, bodily harm, crying, angst, Miles being stubborn, & reader being a patient Saint.

“Ow.”

Miles hissed again as you swiped the alcohol-soaked cotton ball across his bloody knuckles.

Miles was seated on your windowsill. A dozen cotton balls, once white but now turned red, scattered next to him while you stood in between his parted legs. You would have him sit on a more comfortable surface like your bed, but there was a strict ‘no outside clothes on the bed’ rule that your parents implemented, and it was one you instilled in Miles, especially when he came over in his beat up Spider-Man suit.

“Sorry.” you said quietly. You looked up from Miles’s hands, and for a second, you saw his sorrow.

It was a quarter to 1 a.m. when Miles abruptly landed on the fire escape outside to your window. Bang! The sound of his body colliding with the rustic metal sounded through your room.

Your body reacted to the sudden sound by jolting upward, prompting you to drop your phone onto your face. “Shit.” you thought. You hoped with everything you loved that your parents weren’t woken up by the noise coming from your room.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve checked in due to Miles’ inability to be stealthy.

You got out of your bed when you noticed Miles’ state. You swiftly padded over to the window, tucked your fingers under the metal and pushed it up quickly. Something about his body, he looked tangled in the position he landed in, the slight red smears across his skin glistened; the sounds he emitted were those of a wounded animal.

When you stepped outside, you were looking at Spider-Man, but all you could truly see was a beat-up teenager looking for solace in something familiar.

And that was you.

“Here,” You cupped your hands together, “give me the cotton balls.” Miles then picked up one scarlet ball and placed it in your palm.

Then another.

One. By. One.

He did this for each cotton ball.

Into the palms of your hands.

Until they were full.

Miles let out a deep sigh when you turned your back to him, throwing away the blood shed he wore on his body just moments ago into the trash bin. When you looked over your shoulder, Miles was slouched over, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. His mask was abandoned on the windowsill next to him.

You made your way beside him. “You did good today, y’know.”

He scoffed.

You let out a deep breath. You knew no amount of assurance would help ease Miles’ disappointment.

“You did the best you could, baby.” He lifted his head, staring into your eyes.

“You weren’t there Y/n,” His eyes were half lidded and his eyebrows frowned; he looked tired. The slight downturn of his mouth made him look like the most grief-stricken boy in the world. “I was there, and I-” he swallowed. “I could’ve done more,” he picked up his mask and held it firmly, “I could’ve saved them all.” His voice was hoarse and tears formed in the waterline of his eyes.

“People lost their family; their friends tonight because of me, because I couldn’t get the job done.” Miles whispered that last part. He didn’t want to let you in on the habit of self deprecation he’d grown into.

“Miles, you can’t blame yourself for every mishap that happens in Brooklyn.” You caught the way he shook his head. “You can only go so far with what you can do. You're fourteen. You can’t protect everyone-”

“I can be both!” He interjected exasperatedly. “I’m Spider-Man,” he croaked. You shushed him as his voice grew louder.

Miles pushed himself off of the windowsill, standing up tall. You looked up at him; he really had grown a lot taller these past few months, you thought.

“You are both. But not saving every single person in need doesn’t make you any less of a hero.” You replied, but he wasn’t listening. Trying to talk to Miles when he was upset was like talking to a brick wall; nothing was going to get through.

“I’m supposed to be the protector of the city,” he continued. “A-and I just let two people die!”

You shushed him again. “Miles, please.”

He paused before saying, “Peter could’ve done it.” flatly; devoid of any emotion.

The atmosphere in your room was muted then. The lack of noise was so deafening you could hear the faint sound of ringing that introduced itself into your ears every once in a while.

Miles sighed, breaking the silence. He leaned against the wall, slowly descending until he came in contact with the floor. You looked down at him and positioned yourself down the wall next to him, sitting on your heels.

“Maybe.” his eyes snapped toward yours like magnets. “But you’re not Peter Parker, Miles. You can’t compare the success of one Spider-Man to the other because you both serve a different purpose. Sure, Peter could do things you can’t, but he wouldn’t be able to do the things you can. And that’s okay,” he wasn't looking at you anymore, you slid your palm slowly up the back of his shoulder. “Look at me Miles — you don’t have to be Peter Parker to be Spider-Man.”

That’s when the dam broke. Miles's shoulders dropped in ruin, and his bottom lip quivered. He took in a sharp inhale before letting out a breathless sob. Seeing Miles break down like this was a rare occurrence. Sure, you’d seen him cry many times, but this…

He wasn’t just sad, you knew this. He was angry. He was ashamed. He was crushed.

Even though Miles had been Brooklyn’s one and only Spider-Man for the past eleven months, he still felt inadequate about being “Spider-Man #2.” It pained you to see Miles, an otherwise upbeat boy, feel so dejected and helpless.

You smoothed the hand on his shoulder across the length of his back and pulled him into you. Right then, he melted like a puddle in your arms. You rested your chin on top of his curls and a thin line of tears welled up in the corner of your eyes.

You and Miles both sat there on your bedroom floor in each other’s embraces, crying silently for two completely different reasons.

“I should go.” He breathed, sitting up right and detaching himself from your hold. The weight of his body left you feeling a lot lighter. When you opened your eyes, they slowly adjusted to the clock on your nightstand; 1:30 a.m. it read.

Had forty-five minutes gone by that fast?

“Stay.” is all you said, and it was all that needed to be said for Miles to do so.

When you let go of him and made way to your closet. You walked back to Miles with an oversized hoodie that you secretly stole from him and a pair of your pajama pants in hand to give him. He thanked you and wandered toward your door. A chuckle bounced in your chest when you noticed the way he peeked out of the crack of your door to check for your parents before he slipped out to the bathroom.

When Miles entered your room, a lot more silent than he did nearly an hour ago, you giggled at the sight before you. Miles was engulfed in your shared clothes. The arms of the hoodie made his already long arms look like those of Slenderman and the pants dragged on the floor before him. Miles stood there with a tight-lipped smile before moving toward your bed where you had already taken place under your blankets.

Miles laid on his side, in the space you had given him. This moment was one of the few times that you and Miles lay in the same bed together. You wanted to lay your head on his chest, but that would be too awkward. So, you reached out and put your hand on top of Miles's. Then, he did something that shocked you; Miles took your hand into his and kissed the back of your palm. It was soft and sentimental, you thought. Miles held your hand in his and set it back down gently between the two of you.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

You felt the soothing gesture of his thumb rubbing against yours and before no time you were asleep and so was Miles. You knew he’d be gone before the sun rose to get back home before his parents woke up, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was there with you.

Safe with your hand in his.

Him tenderly holding you throughout the night.

Although he’d be up and out of your window soon, Miles thought he had never slept so well than at that moment with you.

#miles morales #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales imagine #x reader #miles morales drabble #gender neutral fanfic #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse x reader #sony spiderverse #miles 1610

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m2ok · 1 year

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Ooooohhh König with a shorter s/o that keeps stealing his shirts

-🐝

ugheirgerigu height difference holds my heart <333. Also, I’m working on your other requests right now <33

König With a Short S/O

König x Reader

A/N: i just made these headcannons, because i felt i could do that better than a fic. I felt like a fic would be too short ( even though this is also short-). Male reader is intended, but could be read as Gender Neutral

He’s used to being taller than everyone, so you being shorter than him is not a surprise at all. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love it though, and he absolutely exploits it. He puts things higher on shelves just so you have to ask him to get it for you. He also for sure does that thing where he leans down to your level so that he can hear you better.

Now, i know big boy has social anxiety, but i don’t think he’s as timid as everyone makes him out to be. I say this because I think he would just pull you onto his lap whenever he could, he likes how grounding it is to have your body weight on his. Also side note but those thighs?? So very strong.

He does not go easier on you when you’re sparring as he thinks that would be a disservice to you and your capabilities. Of course he’s not going to do something that would seriously hurt you, but you will be thrown around and your height will be used against you.

Scary dog privileges, obviously. Someone not taking you seriously because of your stature? He’s just standing behind you, staring the person down until they comply. From then on that person doesn’t hesitate when told to do something.

He likes to hide you behind him when talking to people because he thinks its funny when you just pop out and scare the shit out of whoever he’s talking to.

Picks you up constantly. Especially when you’re about to get into a fight, like he’d just grab you under your arms and carry you away before punches can be thrown. A mission is going south? He’s throwing you over his shoulder before you can even think of continuing said mission.

Okay now onto the clothing stealing. He cant even try to hide how much he likes it when you were his clothes. They’re just so long on you and it’s obvious who’s clothes you’re wearing. Especially loves it when you walk around base in one of his hoodies, because then everyone gets a little reminder who you’re dating.

First time you stole his shirt he was a giggling little mess, he was covering his already masked face with his hands because of how hard he was blushing.

I think whenever he’d want to see you in his clothes he would just hold out whatever article it is and wait for you to take it and put it on. As soon as you did he would insist on spending the rest of the night cuddling. He just always wants to hug you :(((((

Overall he gets very cuddly when you’re wearing his stuff. It’s like cuteness aggression, and I think he would legitimately give you little love bites because he simply cannot handle it.

As always, requests are open

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x male reader #male reader #fanfic #könig x y/n #könig x male reader #könig x you #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig #könig x gn!reader #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral fanfic

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bloodcasket · 1 year

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FOR YOU, I SHALL DESTROY MYSELF

PAIRING: Obsessive!Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, alcohol consumption, stalking, obsession (obsessive behavior on vergil's part), possessiveness, acts of ownership, mentally unwell reader, submissive reader, sensual themes, smut (lightly written), murder, violence, small blood-play.

WC: 7,481

DESCRIPTION: To save yourself, you make a deal with a demon.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31st ─ THE DEAL.

Eyes are watching you, sparing simple glimpses through each passing second. Irises and pupils that become distorted and ugly as they peek through wine glasses, the color glossing over with a crimson hue. The vision feels judgmental, full of ridicule. Too many people huddled close, speaking in hiccupping boasts. Everybody here wishes you gone. They're all watching, smiling. Smiling at your failure.

The air is pungent, reeking of sweat, and of rotten musk. People are slicked over, kneeling over the bar's countertop, sloppy lips molding over one another while with a lazy smile. You swear you feel the graze of an unwanted hand across your back, but you had mistaken it for a waft of air coming from the entrance doors. The breeze comes just as quick as it goes, you wish you could have drifted with it.

How embarrassing of you to slouch forward on the marble countertop, and draw nervous breaths of panic, thinking that someone had fancied you of all people tonight. How wrong you were. That’s how you had always been, for no one cared for your presence. Just another breath that got lost amongst the others. Another squeak that was overpowered by a shriek.

You want to scream, want to shout, “stop it all!”, but then you catch yourself with a quick breath, and it all comes crashing back down on you. The eyes are looking, yes. But at you? Never. Maybe it was the thick atmosphere, the bustling bodies, the cheers of the new year arriving upon the hour. Maybe it was this that made you feel so anxious, so afraid. So alone. No one by your side.

No one was holding you at this hour, kissing you happily until you saw the clock strike 12. Is that what this is about? You couldn’t understand. You were not blissfully drunk, rather pitifully intoxicated, your mind foggy and your conscious drawing blanks. Your senses were locked, your emotions deepened from the shots of vodka.

Is that what you wish for? For someone to long for you? Arrive right at this location, this exact bar, in hopes to see you?

Why did you come here? How pathetic you were, standing here isolated, swallowing glasses of alcoholic beverages that you found rather disgusting, and all for the hopes it would ease some cracking that formulated inside you. To dull the sharp edges of your ache, your sorrow. It did rather the opposite, only tended to the embers that now rose to flames deep within your soul.

“I must go”, you whispered solemnly, but you did not know who you were whispering it to. Mostly yourself. A woman gives you a strange glance as she hears you mumble to yourself, thinking you're completely hysterical.

I must go, I must go, I must go. You did not need to leave, you only wanted to. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't, but stubbornness is a passion, and you were quite stubborn.

Your movement is quick, unnoticed when you escape away from the public and into the darkness. The atmosphere is light now, fresh, natural as you embrace the cool night. The air is still damp from the rain that soaked the Earth a few minutes ago, but you don’t mind the puddles that soak into your pants as you hustle through them. You would rather thank the chilling water that grows slick upon your calves, the sensation of it easing your heated skin. You prayed it would sober you up, save you from this spinning world of madness.

It's much better to feel this, you think as your drunken state leads you stumbling into an alleyway. Much better to be away, in the darkness, where you belong. Sheltered, and untouched.

You stumble once more and swallow up a whimper as you feel a twist in your ankle, your shaking hands reaching forward to grip sturdily on the brick wall. Your nails flick against the rough surface, growing tarnished with every daring step forward. You were shocked you hadn't fallen yet, but the sprain in your ankle only mocks you, tells you ‘just wait’.

This night, right now, you were to go home.

Had you known any better, you would have prevented a thickening curse that looped into your life just brief moments from now. But instead of caring about your future, you carelessly dawned on the past. Letting a drunken wail tumble down your lips and echo amongst the abyss of the alleyway, not a shroud of light in the distance.

Where do I go? Do I go home? Who will take me home?

Another stumble. You sniffle.

Where are my keys? I can’t see, my eyes hurt. My head aches.

There’s still no light to be seen. Snot bubbles in the blacks of your nostrils, pooling forward.

I shouldn’t have drank. I'm so stupid. Please help, someone help me.

There is a sound of hissing.

“Yes”, you sigh, voice hoarse and groggy. You presume it must be the sound of a car, albeit the sound of a rattling engine that has just been powered to life. To you, it must be a sign you're near a street. You will ask someone to give you a ride, take you away from this area of mental wreckage, and bring you home. Home? You shake yourself for a moment, brushing the confusion away as you keep pushing your legs, turning a sharp corner and searching the best you can for a gateway of exit.

What you find though, is not a chance of escape. It is a street, indeed, but there is no one in sight, no voices to be found, not even the guttural hiss that you swore was an engine. Nothing. Only the copper scent that permeates the air. It is too dark, and too close to midnight for you to make out any colors or hues, only shades and glimmering objects underneath the moonlight.

There, laying upon the gravel, a puddle is slick amongst the road, soaking into the indents of the asphalt. Just like the other rain puddles, you thought the same as this, but as you near it, one thing only becomes clear. The scent. The puddle. The moonlight. The darkness. The hissing. The street.

It is clear now, it is clear. It is the scent of death. Slick upon the road in front of you lay a fresh pool of blood, not yet yielding the hue of brown, rather, crimson. It was new. A new murder. The body is limp, a man that had streamers once grasped firmly in his palm, you could tell as you knelt to examine him. He was most likely late to a new year's party, but now he will be late to any other event in life. His life was cut- taken by the grasp of death.

Your mouth felt dry, your tongue tasted nothing but sour.

Across his bloodied shirt, skin is parted, flesh jarred open like cutting a piece of paper apart with scissors. His laceration is deep, and his organs are no longer holding, being that someone- something has slashed him so thoroughly. His face is colorless, pale, solemn. He was young, he could have had a purpose.

Your heart- you think it has stopped. You take one last look at his lifeless palm, streamers still spread across it, before rising and daringly twisting on your heel, heaving a dry lump down your throat with a solid gulp.

It is only then that you understand, you should have been home. Shouldn’t have gone out. Shouldn’t have been here.

You knew you had done wrong by turning on this street, but the audacity you had to try and run. No one, especially the drunken likes of you, can escape an inhumanly being. But you are stubborn, and you are pitiable. You are by no means an athlete. You are by no means an agile contortionist. You are by no means an intelligent and stable specimen. Only fragile, and weak. Ready to be shattered, like glass.

You are limping with your sprained ankle, and your breaths are erratic as you hear it snarling from the skies above, the hissing- the ecstatic and primal bloodthirst in its howls becoming known as it leaps from the rooftops, crawling down the brick of the buildings and knocking down street signs in its treacherous wake.

You do not last; you had expected this much.

You are taken down by one powerful blow from its elongated arm, sharp like a blade, and as red as the blood you had seen on the street. The creature bounces thematically, so quick to pounce whenever it wishes, its speed and agility making you tremble. Its skin is like armor, rough and built like a shield, you are no match, you are just a human.

“Oh god”, you squeal, its blow not landing on a fatal position on your body, but rather, an area that makes the experience more tortuous, and grueling. Its blade-like hand has swooped through the air and slashed across your arm. You are quick to start bleeding, the wound so deep your body caves in, but you attempt to put pressure on the gushing area with your shaking palm, the salty sweat you leak only makes the ache worse. Your tarnished nails are now drowned with red.

“Oh! Oh”, you cry and cry, not capable of formulating words, but it's not like anyone would hear you now. The creature smells you, draws your scent in. It seems to play with you, revel in the way you squirm and sputter whimpers amongst the concrete. Smells your purity, your innocence. You smell amazing, and delicious, and delectable, and so much better than the man it had originally planned to feast upon. It has decided to play with its food.

You have stopped your attempts to scramble away, you are too weak. Still intoxicated, slightly sobered from the adrenaline that has pulsed within you. Your ankle is still sprained, and your feet are blistered beyond repair. Now, you leak your bloody essence from your arm, and you sob desperate tears, the whites of your eyes now a shade of pink.

Who am I, anyway?

You blink, the demon draws closer.

I shall die here, won't I?

It swipes its blade across your leg, the unharmed one. You scream dryly.

No one will save me...I am doomed.

The monster licks away at its weapon, hissing in glee at your taste.

No one. I have no one. No purpose. I will die here. Yes, I will die.

It brings its arm in the air for the final blow, and you watch without fear, seeing the glint it beholds underneath the moon's luminescence. You are ready. Even through sorrowful tears. You are ready to die here, so beautifully, under the moonlight.

But the blow never reaches you, and the sound of its howl echoes through the air, up and down the street, reaching every space, every crack, every pit of darkness. Its shrill is a sign of its defeat, and you watch in horror as a sword has pierced through its body of armor, tinted with red and black. With much haste, the weapon is sheathed, its slice sounding slick as it pulls out from the demon's flesh, letting the villainous thing fall flat on the street, fallen victim to the same act it made on the young man it killed prior.

You had been so ready, but now here you sit, staring ahead with a curiousness come about your dampened eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of a man. You make out his figure, his face, his weapon, even all through your blurred vision. You had made him out to be aged, his precision with his sword showing experience, but the smoothened, porcelain-like skin he had made him appear youthful. He is beautiful, stunning beyond reason. His majesty standing before you. ‘How old may he have been?’ you found yourself wondering, just as much as he found yourself to be ignorantly staring. A glint about his sharpened, light blue eyes. So light and mysterious that they could resemble gems.

“How ungrateful” the man speaks, his voice is so proper, and yet you make out a scowl from his words, his lips curving to produce a grimace. His jaw is solid, and sharp when he speaks, full lips soft and plump when they frown at the sight of you. You must have looked foolish, for he eyes you with judgement.

“Not even appreciative for the saving of your pitiful human life” he speaks once more, airy, and soft, but it still pierces your soul. “What have you to give?”. His appearance is comparative to his speaking. Monotonous, and yet striking. Dressed in a blackened leather vest, blending into the sheen of his leather pants clad on him, sculpting him out like a shadow of the night. If it wasn’t for his whitened hair, he would be unnoticed, one with the abyss.

You shift for a moment, stained fingers dismantling from your tainted flesh, letting the blood feel cool amongst your skin. You do not move as much as you wished, as once you move your feet to shuffle upward, you wince and pipe out a squeak of agony. You had forgotten the demon tore up your leg, too. You glance upward to catch his eye, to look at him properly, and catch a slight flare of his nostrils, like he had been smelling the air. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and you watch with a distrusting expression. He must have been disgusted by your injury, because the glint in his eye becomes something different. Something you cannot describe. You had mistaken it for being censorious.

“What-what can I give?” you stutter with your words, your speech impaired and jumbled from your prevalent fear, “I...I have nothing to give you. I do not know if I even have a home” you shiver under his predatory gaze, his entirety nothing short of intimidating. “But I have called...I have no one, but I still called. I thought no one would come. But you came. You saved me-you...you-you saved my life. Thank you-” you cut yourself short, your cheeks flush and your breathing growing unstable from your rush of words.

You cannot tell now if you are still intoxicated, still swayed by the alcohol, you do not think you are. You think your emotions have just been bubbled up inside you for so long, that now when you speak to this mysterious savior, you only speak with earnest desire. The desire that has been trapped and hidden.

“I cannot give you anything but myself, I want a place to belong, please, please do not think me foolish. Please take me away, please, I beg of you- I have nowhere to go- no one-”

“Correct- you are a fool. I save you, and you cannot give anything, but yourself. I will kill you now, strike you down, and what purpose will you have?” He tampers with you, watches the rise and fall of your chest, the quiver in your failing body. He has not tucked his sword away safely, for it stays sheathed, and pointed at you. He ushers it forward, letting the weapons tip just barely graze your breast, right above where your heart lay beating wildly in your chest.

“You misunderstand”, he moves a little closer, his coat ruffling along with the passing wind, “I do not save souls, I take them. What has your human life have, that will be of any importance to me?”.

‘That is why he must look so young’, your thoughts are so disorganized, ‘he is a demon himself. Come here, to fight amongst the other demons for his prize as the winner. The king’.

He watches you so closely that all you wish for is to cower away, but how can you? You have no choice but to swallow and look up at him. The same desire in your eyes burning. The same glint in his eyes unreadable. You have yet to know his name as you speak so confidently:

“Then take mine! Take my soul! You have saved me. I will be yours, I swear it. Just take me-won't you? Please, it hurts so much”.

He does not smile, doesn’t even scowl. He only stares, and stares, and stares, his nostrils flaring once more, and his adam’s apple shifting with his intake of a gulp.

You feel a sudden burning sensation rise amongst your arm, and you close your eyes amidst a wince, but when you open them again, he is gone. He hadn’t agreed to your deal. He hadn't even expressed his distaste about it. The strange, and hauntingly gorgeous man became one with the night again, dissipating into the darkness.

There is a sound of sirens arriving in the distance. It is barely distinctive from the blaring pops and explosions that erupt in the sky, the colorful fireworks looming over the city, signaling the new year has arrived.

‘What has your human life have, that will have any importance to me?’, his voice still echoes in your head.

You hadn't even learned his name.

You haven't even learned how important promises may be.

11:35 PM ; DECEMBER 31ST ─ DREAM OF A DEAL

To be a troubled man is one thing.

A man who has had too many tragic events to corrupt him. Make his sanity crumble into dust, to be nothing more than an unrecognizable memory. A man who witnesses everything he loves disintegrate into nothingness, fall past the webs of his fingers, even though he made sure to clench his gnarled hands into fists, to desperately keep close what little he had. He would take in everything as a young boy, see faults to be his own, taking in the blame and guilt, swallowing in the darkness.

To be a demon is another.

A demon who does not care for the strangled screams of the innocent, but rather, takes pleasure from their blood-curdling pleads of mercy. A demon who tastes the life it ends, tearing apart flesh by flesh, skin by skin, bone by bone. Consumes the soul, relishes in their utter terror, growls in pleasure.

Vergil awakes suddenly, sitting himself up on his bed, feeling the blankets crease and bundle into piles beside him as he pushes them off. He sighs and then grumbles, a wave of disappointment reaching him.

To be a demon, Vergil slaughters. To be a human, Vergil dreams. And on this particular night, Vergil has dreamt, and dreamt wonderfully.

The dream felt so real, so lucid, it swept over him like a sacred prophecy, like a vision that would soon come to him if he manifested it enough.

In it, he sat at a table brandished with a red satin cloth placed neatly on the surface, lavish items decorated in the center. The room he’s sitting in is too dim, too blurry and discreet from the low candlelight, but he knows, he knows there is someone sitting with him at the very end of the table.

He’s drinking rich wine, and strangely, he is human in the moment. Smiling from the foggy words that the stranger speaks from the end of the table, his dimples deepening with every bashful grin. The only thing recognizable is how sweet their voice is. How pure. How loving.

“I shall........

I am........

Devoted.....

I am yours.....

take me......

my soul......

is yours”.

They keep chanting and chanting, certain words only memorable. He is so content with this dream, feeling so bound to the pleasant ownership of the mystery person he sits with, but suddenly the candles sway in their low light, and are wiped out within seconds, the sound of the strangers' screams echoing around him. The dream had advanced into a nightmare.

This, is when he wakes. Sweat is sticky against his temples, his heart is thumping hard against his ribcage. He usually does not let his composure slip over something so trivial, but dreams are different. Dreams can control you, paralyze you, show you your deepest fears. And Vergil's fear is to grow sensitive, grow close to something again, all to watch it die. And fall away from his hands over and over again.

The troubled half-demon slips away into the night, far from devil may cry. He roams the streets, gawks in misery at bustling restaurants filled with jubilant voices. He curses whatever presence to make him feel so weak, to make him feel so unnerved that he must find a way to escape his emotions.

He is miserable as much as he is restless, clutching his precious Yamato in his firm palm, turning corner by corner, slaying creature by creature to occupy his time, and smelling scent by scent. The scent of sweat from the cooped-up bars, smelling the soil after it ripened from the fresh rain, smelling chemicals after another civilian sets off fireworks in honor of the upcoming new year. Oh, how he despised such human holidays.

He turns yet another corner, and something piques his interest. Yet another smell to devour, and not from the aroma of fresh bread, or a floral plant, but the richness of blood. It is so powerful that he cannot contain himself, the demon within him begging him to get just a taste. It is nothing he’s ever come across. He gets closer and closer, and then he hears it.

“Oh! Oh!”

It is a mere mistake for his arrival in this area. He only intended to brush some weights off his shoulders, help his thumping heart soften until he felt numb and devoid of human sensation.

Although, the voice he hears, the voice that is crying. It is pure. It is sweet. It is so familiar. It is the voice from his dream. It is you.

It is a mere mistake for him to be here, and yet, when he sees you wince and squirm, to see you crawl and bleed along the street, so frail and abused, he feels infuriated.

He draws out his Yamato, lurches it forward until it has made good use, its blade piercing the “Fury” in front of him. The demon that dares to touch the stranger of his dream cries and crashes. He is finally able to see you properly.

Your weak eyes tremble so softly, glistening and wet with human tears. His heart thumps faster.

“What have you to give?” . He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he hasn’t left yet.

Your blood smells divine. Your tears, he yearns to lick away with his warm tongue. He drinks it in, trying to deny urges.

“Then take me! Take my soul!”. He only meant to tease you. He doesn’t understand why he didn’t take you away that night, claim you, make his dream become reality.

Your voice. Your blood. Your soul.

He hadn't even learned your name.

He hadn't even learned that an interest can blossom into obsession.

9:30 PM ; MARCH 31ST ─ A REUNION

Months are brushed by with time, events going faster than it usually does. That incident, that specific night, it stayed with you, lingering in your memories. It was just until recently that you finally healed, your thick lacerations that once bled and bled, and lifted your skin with an unpleasant swell, have finally softened. The skin has finally connected, now a lighter shade and smoother compared to the rest of your body. Inches of imperfection that mock you.

Sometimes it all came back to you, the bar, the people, the alley, the shadows, the street, the monster, the man. When you thought back to it, it was practically unbelievable, you had almost considered it a part of your drunken imagination, until your eyes connected with your abused skin. It was real, that was true. Everything you said─that was true as well.

Everything….you wished it had not been true. Maybe it would have been better if the man had ended you. Point his sword a little further into your chest, impale you so gracefully like he had the other creature.

The blue, crystalline eyes that glimmered like water, but held such a roguish stare. He had been a demon himself, you knew that much. A demon disguised as a beautiful god.

You would go out on certain days, the once chilly air molding into a choking humidity, one that is heavy and warm in the spring. The crowds would soon get thicker than before in the streets, people hand in hand, side by side. You would ignore them, walk to destinations with a purposeful stride, all until you caught a glimmer hidden amongst the sweaty crowds.

That blue shade. That white hair. That blackened vest. That unblemished skin. That stare. It was only until you blinked your eyes in confusion, just to notice it was gone. He was gone.

‘Do not worry so much’ you would speak to yourself, into the depths of your head, ‘you are only anxious. He is gone now. He is gone forever’. You were still innocent till this point, still youthful and naïve. You would soon learn that your consciousness is a powerful thing, but only through a life of corruption. Through lessons of toil.

Your shoes drag up the weathered steps, its beaten surface feeling so dull under your body. You remember walking up these apartment stairs that night, seeing how something can be so challenged over time. To become so walked over, and used, all until it is nothing but dirt and dust.

You cried as you sat on them, as you finally came to recognize where you belong. What your “home” seemed to be. A place that is sorrowful, empty, and cruel, cast away into the pitiful parts of the city.

Your feet push up the final step, your fingers fumbling over uncertain objects in your bag, your eyebrows creasing and wrinkles molding onto your face as a frustrated expression is shown.

You mumble words of impatience, “fuck”, and “where is it” tumbling past your lips with a huff, all until you finally catch hold of the thing you’ve been desperately searching for, lifting the jingling keys to connect into the slot on your apartment door.

When it is opened, you shuffle yourself inside, feeling worn and tattered from hours of work, tossing your bag aside until it collides with the wooden floorboards.

A glow is spread across the room, presumably from your oil lamp, which you took much caution in making sure was never lit when you were out. You creep on your feet, staying nimble on your toes as you turn a corner, your vision taking hold of what waits in the living room.

The oil lamp is heated, its light flickering playfully, dancing inside the glass. You feel yourself melting, as it feels so warm in here, you swear the room will just enclose any second, swallow your existence. You are right about one thing, but oblivious to the other. Oblivious to the lounge chair that sits adjacent to the golden light, a figure sitting coolly upon it. Leather-clad legs, that are long and graceful, sit neatly crossed. Like a king sitting on his rightful throne. His weapon placed along the expanse of his lean thighs, his gloved hands gripping over it so hard you saw his knuckles turn white.

“Took you quite a while, don’t you think?”, his tone is soft, smooth and devoid of emotion, as if him being here was perfectly normal. “Why don’t you sit?”, the way he says it does not sound like a suggestion, but rather, a demand.

The man does not turn an inch to face you, no movement in his posture, or disfigurement in his poise. He is regal, he is dominant, and he is waiting. Waiting for you to seat yourself beside him, in which, you do not spare a second to do so. His grip on his sword becomes tighter, and his lips purse as you pass him.

You do not ask him why he is here, and why would you need to? He is much more powerful than anyone else is. You watch him carefully as you lower yourself down amongst the other chair, your hands clasping into an anxious fist, your palms suddenly growing clammy. You would have never expected to meet him again.

“The deal” he starts off, his eyes now meeting yours, pupils blown enough to show you your own tormented reflection, “I have agreed to it. Your soul-”

“I did not mean it”, you are quick to interrupt him, trying to make your tone assertive and brave. You are only the opposite, as your voice sounds meek and hoarse the moment it slips off your quivering tongue. That is your first mistake. To try him. To deny a half-demon.

“What I said was a mistake....” you are lying through your teeth, “I am sorry for troubling you, but I’ve decided that my life is much better-”

You yelp suddenly as his hand shifts off his weapon and to the arm of your chair, dragging it forward so that you're closer, his lengthy fingers gripping so roughly on the material you think it will break the seams.

“Your life was never yours the moment you promised yourself to me” he speaks with a snarl, words coming out in an aggravated hiss, almost seeming offended. “You dare deny me, after I saved your life?’. He leans in, his lips folding into his teeth so he can growl at you, to come off as threatening, to tell you there is no other choice.

“You had told me that my life was not important to you” you whispered in a feeble voice, glancing at him through the webs of your eyelashes, fingers still molded into one another and shaking with such a capacity you thought you would shatter. “I do not even know your name”.

He gazes at you for a few mere seconds, seconds that feel impossibly long under the authority of his still eyes. He sits up, adjusting himself away from you, the palm that was clutched on your chair now nimbly easing itself off and back to his body. He now settles his interest on the wall of the room, you take it that he doesn’t wish to see your pathetic face trembling under him.

“It is Vergil. My name”, he states, matter-of-factly, his form still glistening under the light as it waxes and wanes, casting indistinguishable shadows along the walls. He holds his composure well, head held high with determination, and lack of regret.

‘Vergil’. You repeat his name, over and over in your head, as if it’s a mantra. “Vergil...”, you say it aloud this time, curiosity tinted in your sweet voice. You watch him, waiting for a sudden sneer, but he only shudders from your silken tone, as if he hungered to hear you say it. “My name is-”

“I know who you are, more than I care to admit”, he quite enjoyed interrupting your sentences, you dared not to bark back. You feared he would kill you if you did so.

“I have known you for a very long time” he huffs, voice thick now and heated “you have nowhere to run. You foolish thing. It is better just to listen”.

And what did you have that could possibly make you say no? A future, filled with endless experiences? A career, one that pays well and never puts a single callous along your frail hands? A family, something you can hold on to, rely on when you need it? Happiness, tranquility, security in yourself? These things did not exist. You had nothing, truly, and that is why you had offered yourself to him that night.

If not anything, your soul had no purpose. If not anything, it wouldn’t hurt to try with him.

“O-okay” you are suddenly stuttering on your own words; mouth unsteady with every syllable spoken, throat dry. You had not realized you were crying. Vergil finally turned to watch you; his emotions unreadable.

“The deal, let’s do it”.

You have learned his name.

You have learned how powerful promises can be.

The deal had been made, stamped by your own, sobbing words.

MONTH OF JANUARY ─ A STALKING PRESENCE

Vergil takes your words harder than the blow of any weapon. Your scent, your quivers, your voice, your promise. It visits him in his dreams, so much that he refuses even a second to close his eyes. It is all familiar, every night, any occurrence. The moment he drifts away, he is met with the red satin laid on the wooden table, the candelabra in the center, a dim light glowing on the apples of your cheeks. The pure smile that creases up on your lips. Then, your words of devotion.

You? Of all people? How dare you. You have ruined him.

He spends weeks in a fit of utter rage, in denial of the lust he feels for you. The want, no, the need to have you by his side.

Then, he gives in, deciding it will all just stop if he listens, and do what needs to be done to restore his sanity. Now he must have you. Make his dream come true.

You are naïve, and innocent. So stupid to not even catch him standing beside your bed, in your own home. His large, calloused hands would reach to rub gentle caresses into your resting face at night, watching your lips part to let out breathless sighs as you swayed toward him. Drool would draw slick against the corners of your mouth, bubbling on your pruned bottom lip, and Vergil would conceitedly swipe over it with his thumb, popping it in his mouth delicately to taste you. His tongue was greedy as it lapped over his thumb, he had to chain himself down, force himself not to kiss you.

“Hush, little one”, he would coo softly in your ear whenever you would whine from a nightmare, “it won't be long before I take you”.

He did this for months, watched you carefully, crept beside you like he was your own shadow. Made sure to fade into the crowds when you grew too close. He did well to figure you out, to deny his obvious feelings until he could not contain himself anymore.

Your neighborhood had been notorious for demon cases, a dangerous residence. He could not let this be. To imagine your life taken by some measly creature? To bury their teeth in your flesh? His flesh. Your body? His body. Your soul? His soul.

He had obliterated every object of evil that could possibly even lay a finger on you, even went out of his way to grab stalking humans that eyed you for too long, dragging them into alleys, his hands locking onto their neck and twisting just enough to hear a snap.

He has lived this cruel, tormenting life for too long. If this is the way he must have something, he will not spare any moment to have it. How sweetly you gave yourself up to him. Now, he will visit you. Take you. Own you, and never let you go. You would comply, wouldn’t you? You had told him yourself, you had nothing.

Your weakness made him tremble, made him thirst just as he did when he was young, 19 all over again.

He is selfish, he knows this. He does not care. Power is the only thing he knows, and power will get you to succumb to his touch, let him take you over and over, just as he did in all his wicked dreams.

You need him.

You need him

You...need him?

5:00 PM ; APRIL 10TH ─ THE CLAIMING

He has taken you far away from the public, through wooded forests, and up into the billowing mountains, a manor he has promised you. A life that will no longer battle with you, only a future that is peaceful, as long as you promise to be his.

You have figured out that he only is kind when you obey his orders, and speak to him in a submissive, soft manner. It would be best not to challenge him, for your own good.

He does not speak to you when you travel to the manor, and you make no attempt to ask him anything, being that your jaw is locked, and your head is sweltering with panicked assumptions whenever you are near him.

He is tall, and looms over you like a giant when he stands. His legs are long, and he takes elegant, yet long strides. Tells you “make haste!” whenever you fall behind as he guides you through your new home, in which you rush up beside him shyly, gazing up at his face for guidance. He takes great notice of this, and grips his Yamato a little tighter, just as he always does whenever you grow too close. Maybe he found you annoying? Wanted to rip you to shreds with his beloved sword?

You did not know he was only simply holding himself back.

“Come” he beckons you over to him with his hand spread open, waiting patiently for you to take it. “I feel rather hungry, let us eat”, he suggests, and you oblige like the obedient soul that you must be for him. You place your smaller hand in his, watching as his fingers wrap over your knuckles greedily, his hand interlocking yours into his. Like a butterfly that has been trapped in the silken web of a black spider.

He only smiles as you shake in his possessive grip. “Feeling shy?”, he teases, but you shake your head in denial, which makes him only grin further, the dimples on his cheeks becoming pronounced. “Good, you mustn't be. Not with me”.

He takes you through the doors of the one room you have not seen yet, which is the dining room, and is wide and spacious just as much as the other parts of the house are. This is much more lavish than your apartment back in the desolate city.

The floors are wooden, and the walls are colored with a beautiful crimson red, which is a wonderful comparison to the red silk that is spread along the oaken table that sits strangely in the center, small candles sitting along the edge of the top, leaving the center depressingly empty. There are no chairs in sight, and you turn to question Vergil, only to catch him boldly staring back, his pupils enlarged and full just the same as the night he came to confess to you.

“Won’t you...” he licks his lips as he keeps his eyes trained on you, hand still squeezing onto yours firmly, “take a seat?”.

“But there is nowhere to sit”, you interject, batting your eyelashes in worry, gulping down a lump of uneasiness. He chuckles lowly in response, his reaction being so irregular that it terrified you.

“Well then, shall I help you?” he spoke to you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, biting gently down on the flesh of your earlobe. “Yes”, you squeak, and he guides you toward the table, pushing you down until you lay sprawled on top of the red satin, his gripping palm letting go of yours finally so he could peel off his long black coat. His arms now remain bare, muscles protruding as he grips your ankles and yanks you closer to him, casting your leg over his shoulder, your toes crazing over his leather vest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he has ripped your clothes off, one by one, impatient and selfish, a salacious side you have never seen from him before. “I like to claim what is mine”.

And claim he does, as he kisses marks into your precious skin, his teeth grazing over your body until his softness blends into primal, and the kisses transform into passionate bites. There are bruises along your neck, thick along your collarbone, sucked into your breasts, placed sloppily along the stretch of your stomach, and swollen along the flesh of your thighs. His saliva so slick against you, seeping into your pores, becoming one with your body.

“Please” you cry out a plead, fingers shaking and reaching out to grab him, you do not know what you are begging for. He just licks away your tears, tastes the saltiness of your sweat, swallows your lips into his, his nose brushing along your cheek as he finally gets to feel you against him, to taste your consent.

“Vergil” you whine breathlessly when he parts, his spit slobbered all over your bottom lip and down to your chin, his consuming kiss making your lips bright and puffy, all from his desire. He is gawking at you, eyes drinking you in, making sure he will ingrain this image of you in his head. It is that expression that you could never understand. Now you know, it is the expression of lust, of yearning desire.

“Tell me” his voice is akin to a growl, like a wolf that is ready to swallow its prey, “tell me that you are mine. That you belong to me. That your soul is mine to keep forever”.

The wax of the white candles dribble from the wick, become dry and hard along the oak of the table, they dance and shake in a ritualistic essence, wickedly excited when Vergil takes you, fills you up, chuckles when you grip shyly on his forearms with your shaking hands.

“Tell me” he coaxes out a throaty groan, rocking his hips into you, hip bones colliding with the flesh of your thighs. A sickening heat rushes to your face, makes you dizzy and apprehensive. You shelter your flustering face, whimpering from sudden pleasure.

“Do not hide your face from me”, he leans down, connecting his chest with yours, perfectly bottoming out within you, like two puzzle pieces that needed each other. He grabs the hand that you hide your face with between his pearly white teeth, canines biting down hard enough to draw blood in the center of your soft palm, your red liquid pooling on his lips, he only fucks you harder.

“I shall only be yours!” you cry out, palm feeling heavy under his tongue, the warm muscle lapping away at you as if your taste is divine.

“I am devoted to you!” he grunts at your words like a madman.

“I am yours, you can take me” he takes your fingers into his mouth, thrusts perfectly articulated, breath heavy. Candles still dancing with pride.

“My soul, is yours”.

He finishes, staking his claim.

MONTHS LATER ─ FINAL CONFESSION

Forks and knives collide and clash against porcelain plates, the light is dim, the dining room a sacred place for you and your husband. It is the evening that you two sit for dinner, Vergil keeping himself trained on you with a possessive glare.

You are tipsy from the wine he has served you, hiccupping from the heat that bubbles up inside your esophagus. A tingling aftertaste sweet on your tongue, you swallow, it only enhances. Your hands find themselves under the table, an index finger tracing the scar he impeded on your palm. A scar formulated from a rough love-making months ago, it is stunning compared to the ones on your arm and leg.

“Do you remember…” you start, soft-spoken, vision hazy and the surroundings seeming opaque, “do you remember when you saved me that night?”.

He smirks, seeing your question more as a challenge. His nails trace over the condensation on his glass, feeling the water topple along his skin and down to the leather of his glove.

“In our garden? Stopping you from falling in the rose bushes?”

You shake your head. He slicks back his white hair with an intrigued look on his face.

“The library, when I cast you aside before those books fell on you?”

You try to interject, he doesn’t let you. Rather, he smiles nonchalantly, a hint of jubilance in his tone.

“On our walk in the forest, when I slayed those wild animals who attempted to bite you?”

“That night Vergil, when we first met”.

He has stopped his glass mid air, lets it fall back on the table slowly, his attention still steady on you. You stop just the same, refusing to set a finger on your cutlery as you desperately await his answer.

“How could I forget?” he seems confused, and almost irritated. He stands from his chair, stalks over to you, his elegance dignified beside the luminescence of the candlelight.

“I had promised you my soul. My everything. You have given me much more than I had ever expected”

“Only what you deserve” he whispers, fingers tracing over your shoulders. Tracing “mine” over and over again.

“But why?” you choke, biting away at your swollen lips as you fluster at his lips pressing chaste pecks along your nape.

“Why?” he repeats your question, breath ghosting against your skin, yet another kiss is placed, and you gasp as he bites down.

“Because for you, I shall destroy myself”.

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #dmc x reader #devil may cry x reader #vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #yandere vergil #gender neutral fanfic

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keeganbrainmush · 5 months

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Simon Riley imagine ❤︎

HEAVYYYY NSFW GUYS. Short simon drabble because it's heat week and I'm actually tweaking.

Imagine Simon just being so riled up he can barely focus, like once he's in his own room after work on a mission or dispatch he HAS to touch himself or else he'll go crazy.

And it's not even your fault he's hard off his mind, sometimes you'd just randomly pop up in his mind innocently and his mind will wander off. His mind will go from him laying on top of you with his head on your stomach while you scratch his head from the best nights of his life when he fucked you senseless. Simon would still be focused on what he's doing, of course. He's still a soldier on a mission, but he can't stop the hot feeling starting to stir between his legs as he does as assigned.

He'll be breathing so heavy and either be fucking one of his spare pillows or use his own hand while he thinks of nothing but you. If it's not enough, he'd hesitantly text you if you were awake. Silently begging you were so he could call you to hear your voice, or else he'd just look at pictures or listen to voice notes you had sent him before. His fingers desperately touching at the underside of his tip, hips bucking upward in a frenzied manner. Finally groaning out quietly in relief at the feeling of finally coming.

Nothing feels quite as good as you though.

#keeganbrainmush #call of duty #male reader #x male reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x gn reader

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kyrviu · 1 year

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞

prompt: realizing they’ve fallen for you

⭒pairings: wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, and xiao x gn! reader.

⭒genre: fluff

⭒warnings: none!

⭒authors note: happy new year! long time no see, I took a week off right after finals because I desperately needed it lmao uni kicked my ass this semester. now that I'm back the requests are open! not to mention that I’ll be working on 3 fics after this one. in the meantime, please enjoy ♡

wanderer

“i simply can't stop thinking about them, it's driving me crazy”.

when you're not looking, he can't help but sneak glances at you. his eyes move to every little detail about you, from your eyes to your smile to the way your hair moves in the wind. he could sit for hours sitting and admire you.

your heart starts to race as you feel his eyes on you. you contemplate his apparent interest in you. 'why is he staring at me' you think to yourself. you switch your attention to him and prepare to ask him if anything is wrong. to prevent you from catching him, he will quickly retaliate by turning his head away. however, you could still see redness edging its way up his cheeks and ears.

everyone is aware that the wanderer rarely laughs or smiles. he maintains a constant, strong, and mysterious demeanor. the wanderer's mystery can be traced to the fact that he has encountered more pain and sorrows in life than other people.

however, he occasionally lets his strong exterior slip when he is alone. he would unwind and occasionally he talks about his adventures with you and things he saw along the way halfway through the conversation he even grins in your direction.

then it hits him…

the wanderer is in love with you.

kazuha

"hold my hand"

everyone around you knows you two belong to each other, It almost seems too nice to be true how well attuned you are to one another. You are permanently attached to his side, otherwise, he would start looking for you. He can't stand to be apart from you even for a second.

however, if only kazuha would realize.

if only kazuha would realize that friends don’t play flirtatiously with each other. There are moments when it goes on for too long and you can't know if it's a joke or not anymore, making you both stutter and shyly look away from one another, hoping your hearts would calm down.

if only he’d realize that friends don’t feel sparks around them whenever one of you touches the other accidentally. Whether it’s a quick graze or when he holds your hand longer than usual while walking around.

without a doubt, friends do not compose haikus and poems about one another. whenever he wrote a haiku about you or about something special you witnessed together, he would always read to you quietly as you were curled up by his side

Why hasn't he noticed that what we do is more than simply friends? you keep wondering. It's quite frustrating not to know where you guys stand anymore since the lines are so blurred. As soon as you notice him moving towards you while smiling gently at the sight of you, all of your thoughts immediately scatter away. you would rather stay like this than ruin everything you guys have with one another.

Little did you know he’s secretly loved you all along.

tighnari

“ don’t overwork yourself for my sake (y/n)”.

even though tighnari is a researcher & a forest ranger words and communication aren’t his best forte especially when he’s around you. to him it’s the little gestures he does for you that speak louder than any form of words would.

always has your best interests in mind. He always makes you a cup of coffee whenever you are helping him with his research, working through the night.

tighnari would ask if you were all right when he notices that you started rubbing your eyes from exhaustion.

However, despite the coffee, you still managed to fall asleep in the midst of all of your papers and research that piled up at your desk. tighnari smiles as he makes his way over to you and drapes a blanket over your sleeping body.

watching how peaceful and comfortable you seem to be sleeping. smiling softly, he leans down and whispers into your ears. “sweet dreams, my love”. you are unsure if you heard him clearly or not due to how worn out you are, thus you decide to disregard it for now.

one thing for sure is you both are obliviously pinning for one another.

xiao

"i wanna show you something".

it takes place during the lantern rite, similar to the wanderer, xiao would steal looks your way to admire how the lantern illuminated your face and cast a soft glow into your eyes. as the two of you were walking around you can feel the air filled with the spirit of the festival and the enthusiasm of those around you.

little kids are seen rushing around with lanterns. you also notice that many of your friends are gathered in smaller groups to enjoy the festivities. when they wave at you and xiao, you smile to yourself the joy on their faces rubs off on you making you wave back eagerly.

since practically everyone attending the lantern rite is either accompanied by people who are close to them or couples, there is still tension in the air between the two of you. however, as much as xiao means to you. you and him are just friends, right?

you both attempt to avoid crowds as much as you can, therefore xiao suggests a location that not many people are aware of. He whispers softly, "you can see everything from up here”. It was a location on top of a mountain next to large buildings where you could view the entirety of liyue harbor, the mountains in the distance, and the sea shimmering from all of the lights that decorate the sky.

perhaps its the atmosphere of the festivities, or maybe it's the reality that he is by himself with you, or maybe the awe on your face as you take in the scenery is all he needs to see to know he loves you.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha headcanons #genshin headcanons #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin fanfic #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic

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tonyspank · 7 months

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“CURIOUS WHO’S BEHIND THE MASK, TARA?”

Summary: Tara finds out who's behind her school's mascot, and finds herself getting closer to them. But Ghostface has other plans for the two.

Warnings: Ghostface, angst, character death.

A/N: no pt.2 sorry & old draft that i shall post because i love u guys

"Woooo!" Mindy yells, clapping and cheering for her brother. It was a rare occasion to see everyone in the Core Four present at a football game.

But this was the championship game, and Chad was the star wide receiver. Sam smiles along with Tara, watching Chad celebrate at the end of the game, securing Blackmore the state title.

The team mascot, a fierce brown cougar, joins in the celebration by doing flips and cartwheels on the sidelines. Tara leans into Mindy's ear. "You ever wonder who's under the mask?"

"Curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" Mindy wiggles her eyebrows before chucking, adding, "Chad knows! Just ask him."

Quinn joins in, "They're hot too! Chad showed me a photo of them." Mindy thins out her lips, nodding in agreement.

Tara raises an eyebrow maybe she will.

Chad laughs, now at Tara, Sam, and Quinn's apartment, along with Mindy, Ethan, and Anika. "Why are you so curious about our mascot?" Mindy sets down her drink, cutting Tara off.

"Quinn and I were kind of hyping them up." Tara nods, confirming Mindy's words. "The seasons over with! Why are you still keeping it a secret?" Chad shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "It's just more fun this way. Keeps everyone guessing."

Anika tilts her head, intrigued. "But don't you think it's time to reveal the mascot? I mean, the suspense is killing me!" Chad chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "I don't know, guys..."

Ethan watches Tara and Anika throw their heads back, sighing and letting out a small laugh. "Maybe you should just tell them before jump them and rip off the mascot costume." He jokes, earning a playful punch from Anika.

Chad looks around the group before pulling out his phone. "I guess you're right," Chad says, scrolling through his phone. He stares at his screen a bit before a voice is heard from his phone. "Hello?"

Chad's face lights up. "Everyone wants to see you without the mask. They've been asking about you all day." The group looks at Chad with anticipation, eager to hear who Chad has on the phone.

"Oh...uh, sure." You let out a laugh, placing your phone on your desk, ready to reveal your identity to the curious group. Chad flips the phone off his face, revealing the screen to everyone. Tara and Anika's jaws drop, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh my god." Anika mumbles, covering her mouth in disbelief. Tara, on the other hand, lets out a small laugh. "I didn't expect that."

You wave at everyone. "I hope I lived up to your expectations!" you say with a smile. Chad, still grinning, introduces you to the group. "Everyone, this is Y/N. Our school's mascot."

"Mind refilling my cup?" you ask, pointing to your empty cup. Tara chuckles. "Can't you just use the force and make it fill itself?" She teases, mocking your Anakin Skywalker costume. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing that Tara always has a quick comeback.

"You will refill my cup." You say, waving two fingers in a playful Jedi mind trick gesture. Tara laughs and obliges, taking your cup before making her way to the keg. A brown-haired boy places his own cup upside down on the pump.

"You're kidding me, right?" Tara asks the boy, raising an eyebrow. He grins, "Nah, last one's kicked. We got hard stuff in the kitchen though." The boy extends his hand, "Frankie."

Tara smiles, shaking his hand. "Tara. Lead the way." Frankie leads Tara towards the kitchen, and you watch with a slight frown. "Looks like you have a sith to deal with." Mindy says, nodding towards Frankie and Tara.

You light up your prop lightsaber, and Anika adds, "May the force be with you." You chuckle and reply, "Thanks, I might need it."

You walk to Tara and Frankie, ignoring the boy as you smile at Tara. "Is that mine?" You ask, pointing at the red solo cup. Tara nods. "It's tequila, so proceed with caution."

You raise an eyebrow and take a cautious sip. The strong taste burns your throat, but you manage to hide your discomfort. As you hand the cup back to Tara, you notice Frankie smirking at your reaction. "Not a fan of tequila?" Frankie asks teasingly. You playfully roll your eyes and reply, "Let's just say we have a complicated relationship."

Frankie chuckles and turns to Tara. "Hey, I have a bottle of Fireball in my room." You narrow your eyes at Frankie's suggestion, could he be any more obvious?

Tara shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though." You smile, silently grateful for Tara's refusal. It had only been a couple of months, but you found yourself grown to Tara completely.

"Do you wanna go somewhere more silent?" she asks you, turning her back to Frankie. You nod eagerly, relieved to escape Frankie's presence.

"Ghostface chasing us...Sam being Billy Loomis's daughter...is just mind-blowing." You say to Tara, leaning your back against the snack bar. Tara looks down at her shoes, a pensive expression crossing her face. "Yeah, it's definitely a lot to process," she replies softly.

You lift yourself off the snack bar and take a deep breath. "But regardless. I'm happy that I'm with you. You've truly made a mark on my life, Tara. I don't think I've felt so strongly for someone, you know? I'm willing to do some crazy shit for you, if it means keeping you in my life."

Tara's eyes meet yours, her eyes darting around your face. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I feel the same way... It's scary sometimes, but in the best possible way. I can't imagine my life without you either."

You smile, leaning down and capturing Tara's lips with yours in a passionate kiss. You slightly pull away, bringing your forehead to rest against hers. "I never thought I would find someone who makes me feel this way. It's like you've awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed."

Just as Tara leans in again, she feels a sharp pain in her back.

"Tara!" You shout, holding on to her before she falls to the ground. Ghostface turns towards you, attempting to slash at you with his knife. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you quickly dodge his attacks and push him into a movie poster.

You manage to knock Ghostface off balance, causing him to stumble and drop his knife. Taking advantage of the moment, you grab Tara's hand and pull her towards the exit, determined to get both of you to safety.

Just on time, Sam and Chad open the door, and all of you gasp in surprise. "C'mon!" Sam shouts urgently, gesturing for you and Tara to hurry. Without hesitation, you sprint towards the open door, looking for an exit. But it's not long before you're back where you started—the four of you fighting off Ghostface.

You all manage to knock Ghostface to the ground, and you grab a gumball machine, urging everyone to keep moving. You lift the machine above your head, ready to smash it onto Ghostface, but before you can make your move, another masked killer stabs you in the side.

You gasp in pain as the sharp blade pierces your flesh, causing you to drop the gumball machine. "No!" Tara shouts, rushing to your side, but gets held back by Chad and Sam. You fall to the ground, two Ghostface's tower over you. The pain intensifies as you struggle to catch your breath, realizing that this might be the end of the line for you.

"Y/N!!" She screams again, watching them stab you repeatedly with a sickening frenzy. Your vision blurs and darkness starts to creep in, but you summon every ounce of strength, mumbling. "Run! Go!"

The Ghostface's turn to the three, wiping off their knives in unison.

"Great job. All of you." Detective Bailey says to the three Ghostface's. Sam and Tara's eyes widen when realization hits them. "You?"

"Yeah, of course, me." He chuckles before continuing. "Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

"Us?" The Ghostface on Bailey's left removes his mask, revealing Ethan. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Sam and Tara exchange shocked glances, their minds racing to process the revelation. Ethan's words hang in the air, leaving them speechless as they struggle to comprehend the extent of his twisted motives.

Tara's eyes then fill with rage, thinking back on you and Chad, and they mercilessly killed you both. Ethan grins and holds up his mask. "This one was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis? It really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family, "

Bailey buts in, "Wait for it!"

"My names not Ethan Landry, is it Dad?" Bailey laughs, smiling proudly at his son. "Dad?" Tara questions, even more confused.

"Wait, then who else does that leave?" Sam asks, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "I don't know?...Mindy?" The Ghostface on Bailey's right takes off their mask, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, roomies." Quinn says, smiling. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Tara's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah, cause you died!" Quinn chuckles. "Kind of didn't, though. It was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing."

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene so I could switch her out with a fresh body. You'd be surprised at what a grieving father can get away with." Quinn smiles, "I got Stu Machers mask. He was my favorite."

Everyone turns to the last Ghostface, who had been standing silently beside Ethan. The last Ghostface slowly removes their mask, revealing a face that no one expected. It was you, alive and unharmed.

"Still curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" You ask with a smile.

Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she struggles to grasp what she is seeing. "But... how? How are you standing here right now?" she stammers, her voice filled with confusion and shock.

"I watched you get stabbed!"

The room falls into a heavy silence as everyone waits for an explanation.

"And Sidney supposedly saw Billy get stabbed," you continue, addressing the lingering doubt in the room. "He used pig blood, but that's out of date. Modern special effects have come a long way since then. It's all about creating the perfect illusion, and that's what I did." You explain, revealing the truth behind the seemingly impossible situation.

"I got Amber's mask." You say, looking at it before making eye contact with Tara. "See, I miss my sister dearly. You know Tara, she would call me and tell me how much she cared about her best friend, and not even two months later, you shoot her dead."

"She was trying to kill me!" Tara shouts. You clench your jaw, your own voice raising. "She loved you!"

Tara's face contorts with anger as she retorts, "She may have loved me, but she was also willing to take my life. I had no choice but to defend myself."

"...How are you, Amber's sister? Why weren't you in Woodsboro?" Sam asks.

You take a step closer to the sisters. "Me and Amber weren't biological siblings, but we were raised together since we were young. As for why I wasn't in Woodsboro, I stayed with my aunt... I never was a Cali person, you know?"

Tara glares at you, her anger still evident in her eyes. "Well, it's not like you would understand. You weren't there when it happened. You didn't see what she did."

"I may not have, but I know how she felt, and I saw what you did. I came here to get revenge for my sister and I will finish the movie she started with Richie, believe me."

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deathc-re · 7 months

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i definitely think hobie loves cockwarming. having you sat on him, desperate and pleading for him to move just an inch. there's almost a puddle at his base from your hole, so wet and he'll lazily rub on your clit, so tantalizing slow that you almost let out a sob. you want to move, bounce, rock, anything!

you'll beg and whine and pout but he'll just smile at your lazily. It's killing him too, the way you grip him so tightly, trying to milk him so desperately and oh the sounds you make! he'll pull you close, kiss and suck on your neck to get whimpers and mellows out of you. each time y'all do this, he tries to beat his last time. almost in competition with himself, and you hate it.

once he finally does move though, it's with the force of everything in him. pace mind numbing, his words, his hands on you, pinching and gripping and caressing everything he can. you rock your hips to try and match his pace but to no avail, he whispers in your ear to relax and let him please you. without protest you do as your told and let the pleasure consume your body and mind.

#[moon's mind]#spiderman into the verse #x reader #gender neutral fanfic #oneshot #reader insert #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #spider punk smut #spider punk x reader #afab reader #spiderman oneshot #hobie brain rot

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smittenmittenz · 11 months

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Miguel O'Hara SFW Headcanons (x GN Reader) How The Relationship Develops!

Because there are almost none that I see and agree with, and too many are NSFW and uncharacteristic.

(no hate /gen, do whatever tf u want idc)

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Miguel O'Hara x GN Reader because I said so.

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When you meet:

When you first meet it's all cold, no instant spark for him anyways. Ofc you seem him and you're like "wow he's handsome!" but all he sees is another person, nothing special. It's not your fault, this man is just closed off for his own reasons.

You try talking to him: he gives you blunt and short responses.

You try to joke with him: if it's funny he'll smile...maybe even exhale through his nose while doing so. If it's crude or not his type of humor, he won't even turn to look your way and instead will turn away from you and give you something to do to make you go away.

What's his type of humor? I like to think it's the "smartass" type of humor but not in an overbearing type of way. The type of humor that comes naturally- i picture it as you responding with a little snark when he's bossy or something. It's often a hit or miss with him. He'll start smiling more the more you guys know eachother.

If you get his number for whatever reason and you try texting him, he WILL leave you on read if you text him about stuff outside of missions/work. If you bring it up, he'll just tell you that it's not personal and that he doesn't like texting.

If you compliment him he will say thank you, he's cold but not mean. Something like "Thank you for helping me with this, I like coming to you for 'x' because you're really smart and explain stuff nicely." However if the compliment has some sort of ulterior motive (think catcalling) he'll definitely glare at you and either not respond or say "ok". (just don't flirt right away...he literally does NOT KNOW YOU.)

For the love of God please keep your gaze respectful, he might not have a spider sense but he's not dumb.

With that in mind, if you try to pry into his personal backstory too early he will most likely not open up to you about it until wayyyyyyy later since he'll trust you less for being so nosey. Let HIM open up naturally.

Don't call him moody.

How do you become friends? It depends on him, he definitely chooses (and is picky with) who he wants to get close to, so really you have no say and can't do anything to make him like you, so yeah, even if you're conventionally attractive it won't affect how he feels about you LMAOOOO. IMO he has a sort of switch in his head that goes "...okay, I like this person, I should try being friends with them."

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When you guys are friends:

I'd like to think the friendship is made official when he vocalizes that he cares about the safety of you. Hmmmmmmmm, I'd imagine him being like "Hey, take care of yourself out there." Something sweet and short, and he'll make eye contact with you through it. And for once, his expression is calm and his eyebrows aren't furrowed.

Speaking of which, you will definitely see him smile more and you will occasionally catch his expression soften when you show up.

You two will start talking about how your days went. He never did this in the beginning when he didn't know you.

He'll tell you some non-personal stuff about him like his favorite coffee and lunch, his favorite color...only if you ask though. He's not the type to just say that stuff on his own.

Before, he'd rather be alone than be with you. Now that you're friends, he'd like to listen to you talk about yourself while he stays quiet and listens. Perhaps you ramble on about something you're passionate about and he's typing away. And when you pause for whatever reason, he'll say that he's still listening.

You have now unlocked the ability to have conversations with Miguel 🙌

They're short convos but they mean a lot to the both of you, even if they're about what you'll be having for lunch that day.

Speaking of food lol, if you bring him coffee he'll smile and give you a thank you. If you treat him to lunch he'll probably say yes. Probably. If he's overstimulated or overwhelmed from work he'll say "no, thank you." Also don't ask him all shy and stuff, ask him genuinely.

Not a fan of self deprecating talk, if you're friends he will try his best to cut it short and provide some comfort like "that's not true" and will give you reasons as to why. However if it's overbearing (like you do it CONSTANTLY) he will try to pull away from you. Mans is constantly stressed about the multiverse, talking to a friend should be his time to relax a little.

Friendship bracelets...I think he'd think they're corny but he would wear one if it's not too funny looking. Like the ones made from threads of matching colors... he wouldn't wear the ones with the BFF beads lol.

If you're both working in the same space and it's too quiet, he'll probably start a little convo, hearing you talk is comforting. That being said though sometimes he likes the quiet cus it's calm.

Give him self care tips in a nice way and he'll genuinely appreciate it. I think if you're well put together he'll even ask you lol! He'd ask what you'd think is the best to use to diminish the look of eye bags.

Text him and he'll respond, it'll be short but it'll be a response. He'll also reach out first sometimes to check in on you. "Hey how's your day been?"

On that note, it's safe to say that Miguel is not up to date with current memes, but again he's not dumb. If you send him those funny cat videos/pics he will find it amusing, will probably not laugh irl but will smile because he finds it funny that you find it funny.

He will download Pinterest (you told him that's where you get your memes from) and will scroll on it during his free time, if he spots some meme he knows you'd like he'd send it to you, saying it reminded him of you.

Playful banter is welcomed, encouraged only when he is the one starting it. You can start the banter yourself, but just make sure he's in the mood for it.

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The spark ignites inside of Miguel:

He'll be the one initiating conversations a lot more often, and you'll notice it.

He'll surprise you with lunch! He'll know your fave foods from all the chats you guys had as friends, and has some sort of keen sense as to what you are craving that day specifically.

This one is a bit more funny, but if you tease him by being a little mean (you can now that he has that little spark ignited), he'll turn away from you, but keep himself in view enough for you to see his signature pout. He will look down at the ground and smile before coming up with a comeback, which always usually beats your initial jab.

He'll teach you some words in Spanish if you want him to, but be warned that he'll take his job as your Spanish teacher very seriously. His expression will be serious... he will randomly speak a sentence in Spanish to test you, and if you don't understand him he'll tease the absolute shit out of you. One sentence turns into three, turns into a whole conversation starter.

If you respected the backstory thing, by now he'll open up about it with you privately. The spark being ignited means that he sees something between the both of you he wants to pursue, and that means that he wants to be fully honest with you from now on.

That being said, if you decide to lie about something to him and he finds out during this stage, he'll throw the relationship back to just friends for a good time... I'd say the bond is broken forever but hey you never know right? I think it depends on the lie tbh.

If you're shorter, he'll pat your head once before you go away from him, maybe even mess with your hair a bit (if you're okay with that ofc, shout-out to my curly haired ppl, taking care of our hair is not for the weak and even if it was Miguel O'Hara messing it up I'd be pissed off). If you're taller, he'll swipe his hand up on your back. (hopefully you can picture that sorry lol.)

He will appreciate hugs from you in this stage! Ofc you need to ask him first, don't wanna catch him in a bad mood, he'll feel suffocated if you hug him while he's angry.

On that note, if you're leaving and say "...What, no hug goodbye?" he'll definitely smirk and cross his arms... playfully will pretend to ponder while looking at the ground, and will respond "...Fine, I guess you can have one". He will hug you tightly to tease you back.

Remarks about how he looks will now be appreciated, and I think he'd put more effort into how he looks like for you. Keep it classy though.

If he's quiet because he's upset/angry, he'll avoid you. He just doesn't wanna explode around you.

Will take you out on an official date (yippee!) and depending on the type of person you are (whether or not you like restaurants as a first or a picnic) he'll do his best to dress accordingly (restaurant = suit, picnic = nice t-shirt and jeans).

Will ask what you think about his outfits. Be honest with him, honesty is the best policy.

Will ask for advice regarding work, he never did this as friends. He likes to think his way is the best way, but... he's starting to care a lot about you and what you think too.

Will get you a gift occasionally, not randomly. I think during holidays and on your b-day. He never did this as friends. He even asks to hang out with you on these days. :3

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The relationship:

He will be the one to make things official, he'll do this by getting you a nice piece of jewelry and planning a date somewhere he knows you'd love. Definitely the type to say "Can I be your boyfriend?"

Every time he sees you he'll smile, unless he's angry. If he's angry his eyebrows will just relax (expression softens in general) but he'll still be frowning. You'll always be able to soften his heart, but it'll be like a meter, you know?

When you gotta go, if you're shorter he'll hug you and press his cheek against your head, will give you a forehead kiss depending on the mood, will always tell you to stay safe and that he loves you. If you're taller he'll hug you and press his forehead against your chest to feel your heartbeat lol, in this scenario i see you being the one to kiss his forehead and he lets you.

Texts you updates, and in general more often. Will call you, he never did this before now.

Will hang out with you more, I think he'd even take days off routinely to spend them with you. Like Saturdays and Sundays he leaves and lets someone take care of his work- but he'll occasionally pop in to check in on them via text to make sure stuff at work is alright.

Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner is now between the both of you. A nice break from work.

Will let you touch him, for example running your hand up and down his arm, holding his hand, giving his face kisses/quick pecks. He appreciates all of your touches.

In general you will see him soften up more, he's less angry (still has his days, T-T), and is seen smiling more by the people around him too.

After some time (1/2 yrs) he will ask for you to move in with him.

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Thanks for reading, imma do another post that has random headcanons too and not relationship based ones :3

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #fanfiction #headcanon #gender neutral fanfic #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman

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hauntedhokage · 7 months

Text

at 1am

Nanami Kento/Reader (no pronouns)

word count: 665

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort

[crossposted to ao3] [prompt list]

He was late again. Absurdly late, this time, and the pristine kitchen tells him that you were feeling a way about it but didn’t want to call him. Which meant you had been crying, because that was mostly when you cried you didn’t want to talk to him.

The half melted candles in the trash did a great job of telling him how long you’d waited, since they’d been sitting in the cabinet to wait for a special occasion so he knew they’d been burning for at least an hour until you gave up on the ambience - gave up on him - and started cleaning up. He wasn’t going to ruin your tidy kitchen, so instead he quietly makes his way through the apartment to get to the bedroom.

He’s concerned when it��s empty. You’re not asleep, not sitting up in bed with a book waiting for him to be subjected to your frustrated glare, just the neatly made bed. The concern bubbles into fear when he enters the bathroom and sees most of your grooming supplies gone. No hair supplies, no toothbrush, body wash and shampoo all gone with just a note taped to the mirror that he didn’t bother to open.

When he pulls his phone from his pocket he catches the time, and he didn’t realize that it was that late. 1:15am stares back at him, covering part of your forehead in the picture that was his lockscreen. You should be asleep, but something tells him that you’re not and he runs the gamble of calling to see where you were.

Four rings, then he’s sent to voicemail. You were awake when you should have been sleeping, almost like you were waiting for him.

So he calls again. This time you answer after two rings.

“So I exist now?”

“Where are you?” He knows better than to feed into your emotions when you’re mad at him. He knows that meeting your emotion with his own will only cause more problems, and any hope for an objective conversation would be gone for at least a week. “I just got home.”

“Don’t call it your home, Kento. You and I both know that your home is that office.”

“My home is with you, that’s why I’m working so hard to ensure that you’re taken care of.”

“So you skip our anniversary dinner? It’s after 1am and you’re just now getting back!?”

You were getting more emotional, and he actually doesn’t know how to fix it if he’s not looking at you. Usually he could defuse the bomb with eye contact as he spoke to you, you could see the sincerity in his words and believe him. But he also supposed after a while he couldn’t expect that to continue to work if his behavior wasn’t changing.

“Please tell me where you are.”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“I’ll stay home. I just want to know that you’re somewhere safe.”

“I’m at a hotel. The one with the nice restaurant you took me to.” He nods, although you can’t see it as he’s writing the name down. He’d call in the morning to have breakfast sent to your room, it was the least he could do. “Do you love me, Kento?”

You’re tired and upset, obviously not thinking clearly if you’re asking him a question like that. But he supposed he understood why you’d ask. It hadn’t been just this dinner, after all. Repeated habits say a lot about a person, he just hates that it gives you a question like that.

“Of course I love you.”

“Start acting like it.” You’ve hung up on him, ending the conversation with a simple directive that feels like a knife in his heart. No declaration of love for him, no request that he drink some water or sleep well, just a directive that was so unlike you but he knows that he pushed you to that point. You were hurt, and he could only blame himself for that.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento angst #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #gender neutral fanfic #kento nanami angst #nanami kento x y/n #jk x reader #jjk imagines #nanami kento imagine #kento nanami imagine

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6rookie-writer0110 · 8 months

Text

A song for the night

Azula x Earth Bender Reader (Gender—Neutral)

Request - Can I request Azula x Earthbender reader (romantically) where she teaches R about the Fire Nation's history, culture, and traditions?

You and Azula are dating in secret and have a secret hiding place. You arrive first and it's nighttime and you wait for your girlfriend. You and Azula meet in a cave and it's in the middle of the forest far from your village and hers. Late… You tried to start a fire but couldn't. Then Azula used small flames to make fire then you turned around and smiled at your girlfriend. You stand up then you hug her.

“I missed you” You smiled.

“I missed you too. I couldn't come days ago and see you because I had to train a lot” Azula said.

You and Azula start to kiss each other again.

Nobody can't know about the relationship, because Fire Benders and Earth Benders hate each other.

“I got this for you, Y/n. Hope you will like it” Azula said.

She watches you unwrap the box then you open it.

“What is it?” You asked.

“They are called Mooncakes. And it tastes really good. Go ahead and try it” Azula said.

You grabbed a mooncake. They are small dessert cakes filled with a sweet paste traditionally made with lotus seeds.

“Wow they taste so good,” You said.

You start to eat more then she grabs one.

“Glad, you like it,” Azula said.

“What are these symbols on the cakes?” You asked.

“Oh. Umm, do you really want to know?” Azula asked.

“Is it bad?” You asked.

“Ummm, the Fire Nation used mooncakes to send secret messages to attack The Earth Kingdom in 147 BC…” Azula said.

“Oh. Don't tell anyone I like the mooncakes” You whispered

“I won't tell anyone, I promise” Azula whispered

You and Azula sit down next to each other. You ask questions about the Fire Nation and she tells you everything.

“Mooncakes are popular during Bon festival,” Azula said.

“What is Bon festival?” You asked.

“Bon festival is when we use floating lanterns put into rivers, lakes, and seas in order to guide the spirits back into their world. We celebrate the loved ones we lost” Azula said.

“We do that too, but differently,” You said.

“What do you do?” Azula asked.

“We place their pictures next to a candle and put gifts around the picture frame, what of they used to like,” You said.

“Interesting,” Azula said.

While talking, she lies her head on your shoulder. You and Azula are holding hands and just talking to each other. Azula used to hate opening up to people because she thought it was a waste of time. But with you it's different, she can be herself without feeling judged.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

Again, you and Azula met at the cave. You two are always happy to see each other.

“Y/n, what happened to your eye?” Azula asked.

“I was training with Toph. Well, she was helping me train. We got carried away, we tried to stop each other’s attacks and I got hit in the eye” You said.

“I will help you train and you will be stronger than Toph and everyone else” Azula smiled.

First, she helps you with your stance. Next, she helps you to move faster and punch faster, etc.

After a while of training, you and Azula sit down and rest. She got more mooncakes and you start to eat it.

“Follow me” You smiled.

“Okay,” Azula said.

You and Azula leave the cave, now standing next to a tree. She watches you crave A+ __, the first letter of your name on the tree.

“This means, we are lovers and only we know about this” You smiled.

“I like it” Azula smiled.

She pulled your shirt then she kissed you on the lips.

“How do people show love of affection in the fire nation?” You asked.

“I’m not sure. I have never been in love. I did see people buy expensive gifts to show they are rich” Azula said.

“I don't care about your money, I care about you,” You said.

You put your arms around her and she did the same. She gently caresses your cheek then she starts to kiss you.

#azula x reader #azula imagine #Azula x male reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic #male reader #atla imagine

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chokepoet · 8 months

Text

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

#Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #Gender Neutral Fanfic #Roman Roy One Shot #Roman Roy Fluff #Roman Roy Angst #Roman Roy Imagine #Roman Roy x Reader #Roman Roy x Gender Neutral Reader #Succession Fanfic #Succession Imagine #Needy!Roman #Insecure!Roman #idk what else to tag here???#help????#mine #kittens & perverts

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scarletttries · 11 months

Text

Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone (Roman Roy Succession Request)

Part Two Available Now!

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Requests: "Roman x Mattson!reader? Forbidden/secret relationship?" AND "Perhaps some smut for Roman Roy? Maybe Roman being on the more submissive side? Thank you!"

Warnings: Smut, spoilers for the new season.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Oh Roman, I'm going to pretend I haven't seen the latest episode so I can continue fancying you without having to think critically about this piece of media 🙃 Thank you to the ABSOLUTE genius that suggested a Mattson! reader, forbidden romance vibe, I loved the request and enjoyed writing this so much, I've gone full Romeo & Juliet! (More like Rome-eo, hahaha I felt like a genius for this). Also this is my first Roman smut so it was a bit of a challenge to try and keep it in the same tone i've written Roman in so far, but I hope you enjoy! As always keep the requests coming :D

Romey-o take me somewhere we can be alone

"Have you had enough of this little ass-kiss fucky fest yet?" You watched the little bubble pop up on your phone and looked across the party in reflex, scanning the crowd until you saw his smug little smile directed your way. You unlocked your phone to reply, scrolling up to glimpse the hundreds of messages between the two of you since you'd met that day at the woodlands company retreat three weeks ago.

***

"Problems working with your older brother? I can relate." You stepped out into the night air to find Roman hunched over the railing of the small balcony, hands threading through his hair so firmly he threatened to pull it out in clumps. His shoulders grew a little less tense as your voice washed over him, hands falling to the edge of ledge as he gestured for you to join him.

"So you're the younger Mattson? You could have fooled me, on account of you not being a massive dick." He laughed at the words but it came out hollow, watching his breath form a white wisp in front of his face in the cold night air.

"Thanks, I try my best to be an actual human being. I hear out of all the Roys you're the most favourable to be around too."

He turned his head sharply to really look at you, the sincerity in your tone and the measured kindness of your words catching his attention.

"Oh yeah?" He probed, hoping another almost compliment would fall from your lips before he did something to ruin this moment. Truth was he'd spend half the weekend watching the way you floated through the conference, poised, humble, soft; the antithesis of your brother Lucas. And so he'd avoided you, sure that any moment spent in your presence would only tarnish the shining light you carried so effortlessly.

"I like to think I've got good instincts for people, and I think there's something about you that's different from the rest of your family. And I mean that in a good way." You were thoughtful as you spoke, treading lightly around the slick man in front of you, sure that one wrong move would have him sprinting back inside, spitting venom in his words as he went.

"That's actually pretty nice to hear these days." Roman replied after a pause, now standing squarely to face you, searching your eyes for any hint of deception and mockery and instead finding a tranquility that washed over him in waves as you returned a smile he hadn't realised he was sharing.

"I'm really sorry about your father by the way. And I'm even more sorry that you have to be here right now." You grimaced at your brother's insistence that this weekend go ahead as planned, every ounce of humanity seeming to leave him the moment his bank account saw a certain amount of zeros. Roman nodded at your words, the taste of condolences still unfamiliar and bitter in his mouth, cursing his father for ruining yet another interaction for him, even from beyond the grave. You read his silence for the pain that it was and set your hand gently on top of his where it rested on the railing.

"Well I should go back inside before any of our siblings accuse us of fraternising with the enemy, but it was nice to meet you. I really mean that."

Panic rose up in the back of Roman's throat as you turned to move away, not yet ready for this moment to end, feeling better than he had in weeks. He ignored the voice crying out inside him to stay strong, to isolate himself, to trust no one, and instead caught your rising hand with his.

"Maybe we could fraternise just a little longer.

***

And so you and Roman had spent an evening sharing in the perils of being a younger sibling in your strange corporate worlds, swapping numbers and an unspoken agreement to keep this from your families as you departed the next day, Roman touching the spot on his cheek you had blessed with a gentle kiss when he snuck into your treehouse to say a real goodbye. And so followed weeks of secret texts and furtive phone calls, pouring out your souls until finally you were back in the same room, parted in a hotel lobby by a sea of political donors and movers and shakers, but feeling only one pair of eyes on you.

"I thought you'd never ask." You sent back in response, locking eyes with him once again and tipping your head toward an emergency exit you had checked led to a service elevator. From opposite sides of the room you each slipped through the crowd, trying your best to be unseen, aware that any of these prying eyes could collapse what you had delicately built with a single passing comment. As you reached the door you did a final scan to ensure there were no Waystar or GoJo members nearby who could catch a glimpse of this subtle rendezvous, before backing through the door yourself.

Roman stood waiting between the open elevator doors, looking almost bashful as you dashed towards him, vanishing into the small metal room as he let the door slide shut behind him.

"Thanks for holding it." You couldn't help the anticipation loaded in your tone, facing Roman and finding him stood barely an inch away from your blushing face.

"I had a feeling we were going to the same floor." He breathed out, eyes wide and hands shaking as they rose to brush either side of your face, the adoration clear in the gentle way his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

Before either of you could think your way out of something good, you leant forward, closing the gap between your lips and sending a whirlwind of warmth and glitter spinning through your bodies, the reunion more than worth the wait. His head bobbed forward to return the gesture, body following the movement until he was pressed entirely against you. It wasn't rough, or frantic, or urgent. It was like deep down you knew you'd be doing this forever, so you had all the time in the world to sweetly caress the nape of his neck, parting his lips for a content sigh that only let you taste more of him.

By the time the lift doors opened on your floor Roman could hardly remember where he began and you ended, unsure how he ever coped being half way across the planet from you, needing to keep you as close as he could for every second you could steal tonight. You could feel it too, the desperate pull of your heart towards him, the air of secrecy that only made you want him more, this forbidden fruit the sweetest you would ever taste.

You could feel his cheeks brush against yours as he fought back a smile at finally having you in his arms, and the physical confirmation you had been feeling this overwhelming chemistry too. He would have berated anyone else for believing in love at first sight, but as you rested your forehead softly against his, feeling the joy emanating between you, he didn't think this could be anything else. When you pushed the jacket free of his shoulders, helping him shrug away the fabric until it crumpled on the floor, he had to stop himself from pulling away. Not because he didn't want this with you. It was really the opposite; he couldn't remember ever feeling this way, ever wanting someone to be so close to him, to feel every part of him, and now he wanted that more than anything with you. But he was scared of being vulnerable, and insecure in his inexperience, completely unsure what real intimacy could even look like.

As you worked through the buttons on his shirt, you could see the gears whirring in his head, the unmistakable fear and excitement of a man that's seen a hard-drive's worth of porn but never felt the touch of a person that genuinely cares about them.

"We can stop?" You offered, pulling your hands away from his shirt, only for him to vigorously shake his head and rip it off himself, a stray button clattering across the floor, disrupting the heavy silence.

"I want to." He insisted, his eyes full of desperate desire as you brought your hands to his now bare chest, his heart hammering in anticipation inside. Unsure of what to do next, Roman firmly grabbed at your ass, voice wavering as he tried to take control, feeling like that should be his role,

"Do you like that, you fucking slut?" Both of your faces seemed to contort in discomfort as the words tumbled out of his mouth, his hand quickly releasing and his eyes clenching shut in embarrassment.

"Sorry Rome, I don't even think you like that?" You questioned softly, bringing your fingertips to sweep delicately over the creases in his forehead, his brow slowly unfurrowing as he blinked his eyes open to see you again.

"Fuck, sorry, I was trying to, you know, talk dirty, be sexy." He waved his hands in a gesture of uncertainty as he spoke, surprised you weren't laughing at him or taking the opportunity to run for the door.

"You know talking doesn't have to be degrading to be sexy?" You replied, the calm, confident smile on your face matched by the alluring look in your eye leaving Roman feeling like a deer in headlights, but praying the car will crash right into him.

"Oh yeah?" He gulped, eyes wide as you nodded, pushing him gently so he could step backwards towards the end of the bed. He let himself drift in your current as your touch laid him backwards, every wave of contact soothing his nerves.

"Can I show you?" You breathed in his ear, settling your thighs either side of his legs, feeling all the more powerful for being fully dressed as his bare chest heaved beneath you.

"Please." He begged softly, letting his eyes flutter shut as your lips found his again, fingers tracing a path down his stomach until they reached his belt.

"I'm so glad I got to see you tonight." You sighed against his lips as you began to undo the buckle, feeling his hips twitch, reacting to even the slightest touch. His head leant forward, trying to chase your lips as you spoke, needy for the taste of your kiss as you released the zip and buttons in your way.

"Me too." He eventually sighed out as your lips moved out of his reach, mapping a course across his cheek until you reached the edge of his jaw, applying a little more pressure until you heard the low rumble of moan escape his lips.

"I like hearing you enjoy yourself." You purred, confidence building as he relaxed against your touch, submitting to your control, putty in your hands. Marking a sweet constellation of kisses over his neck you slowly slipped your hand inside his boxers, running one finger over the length of him and feeling him buck up to meet your touch. Roman had never felt both so excited and so relaxed at the same time, never this comfortable with someone exploring his body before, but feeling like he wanted to give every inch over to your control, sure your loving touch could put all the broken pieces of him back together.

You wrapped your hand around his hard length, pumping over him a few times to gage his reaction. His eyebrows scrunched down towards his nose, lips parting as a moan seemed to reverberate through his whole body.

"Does that feel good?" Your tone was sweet, if not a little teasing, sucking on a spot on his throat that seemed to leave him barely able to spit out an 'uh-uh' in response.

"Good, I want to make you feel good, Roman. Will you let me make you feel good?" You praised, bobbing your head down to his chest and picking up the pace of your rubbing hand. Ability to think and speak quickly surrendered, Roman just nodded, for once unable to think of a quippy comeback and just enjoying someone else taking control and being with him so intimately. He'd touched himself like this hundreds of times, thinking cruel, perverse little thoughts the whole time until he was left sitting in a puddle of his own self-contempt. But with you it felt like something new entirely, something positive, and warm, and with each soft praise and gentle kiss that poured from your lips and landed squarely on his chest he could feel his heart lifting, thinking maybe there's a reason he'll only ever thought of it as 'fucking' and not 'making love'.

Your lips drifted down to his chest, gingerly placing a kiss on one nipple and smiling at the way he squirmed under you, eyes now staring down at you in full adoration like you were the most wondrous miracle he could have dreamt of. You could feel his cock starting to twitch in your hand, cooing over him again, sure this wouldn't be the last time the two of you spend a night hiding in the sheets together.

"You're doing so well, Roman. Good boy."

"You feel - so - good." He panted out, the praise bringing him close to the edge before he could really think enough to stop it. Ignoring your own desire stirring up inside your stomach, you gripped your hand on him a little firmer, leaving the other to trace faint circles over his chest, the lingering damp of your kisses only making him more sensitive. Crashing your lips back against his you swallowed his moan before breathing out,

"Cum for me, Rome, please." His lips pressed hard against yours as his hips started to shake, unable to hold back for a second longer and spilling hot white ropes across his stomach, almost whimpering at his sensitive release, overstimulated but still whining the second you released your grip.

His hands reached up to capture your face, somehow trying to portray a lifetime's worth of gratitude and affection in a single overwhelming kiss, before finally releasing you to breathe. As you rose up onto your knees, surveying the smiling fool of a man lying beneath you, you couldn't help but laugh at the state of both of your suit trousers, marred with streaks of sticky white.

"We might need to hide up here for a while until we get cleaned up and dried off, or this might be hard to explain."

"You don't think we could say two seperate waiters happen to get lucky?" Roman rebuffed, pulling a disgusted face as he wiped a finger over the fluid pooling on his stomach.

"Or one waiter got very lucky?" You suggested with a smile, Roman using every ounce of remaining strength to sit up until his lips could find their way to yours.

"No-one's that lucky, so I guess we better stay hidden. I reckon there's a lot more stuff you could show me anyway." Roman's eyes drifted down your body eagerly, wondering exactly what else he'd been missing by never trying it with the right person.

"You don't think the party will miss us?" You teased, pretending to bat away his eager hands.

"What party?" He scoffed, letting you capture him by the wrists and pulling you back to lie with him, falling so you pinned his wrists either side of him, a position he was more than happy to end up in.

"What about our families?" You couldn't help the worried tinge in your voice as you remembered the seemingly insurmountable barrier that stood between yours and Roman's lives. With unusual sincerity he gazed up into your eyes and said softly,

"Fuck 'em, you're my family now."

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