#i can never have just ONE full day away from LITTERALLY anyone to just. be. ME.

[pandanscafanfiction]

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[catch1ngmoths]

Hi ok so I was wondering if you can do a comfort fic with joost? Like joost sees readers past SH scars and reader really hates them and finds them disgusting but joost just kisses readers wrist and reader just starts bawling 😔🫶 if this makes u uncomfortable you don’t have to write it I won’t be upset! 🫶🫶🫶

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ STRAWBERRY GASHES⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝄞⨾“Watch me falter, Your living like a disaster. She said kill me faster with strawberry gashes all over” - jack off Jill𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: you have self harm scars but you’ve never told your boyfriend, Joost. One day you forget about the scars and wear somthing that reveals them. Much to your surprise Joost isn’t as disgusted in them as you are.

Note: thank you for all the love on my last fic, I am currently running on….0 hours of sleep and it’s like 1pm where I live so I’m pretty exhausted so this will probably be my last fic for today unless I get bored! Also!! I see all y’all’s requests and even though I don’t respond right away doesn’t mean I’m ignoring them or don’t see them! I like to respond to the request with the fic so you won’t know I saw it until the actual fic comes out! ^_^

Warnings: SELF HARM TW!! other then that just comfort and fluff >~<

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚

You and Joost had been together for a few months and everything was going great! He loved you more than anyone else ever could, even if they tried. He held you when you felt anxious or upset. Felt excited with you when you were happy and made sure you were always take care of. Always.

But there was one thing you hid from him, something that ate you alive every single day. Joost always questioned with a chuckle why you wore long sleeves in 90 degree weather but you just shrugged it off, saying you were always cold. That was a lie, you were sweating but you were also hiding something that’d hurt you a little more than a little sweat.

Your old sh scars. You struggled with it on a daily basis, sure they were old but they still managed to haunt you. You felt disgusted by yourself everytime you caught glimpses of them and you were sure Joost would too. I mean…who would want a partner that has scars like that.?

Today was the day you find out because being to caught up in excitement to hang out with Joost you forgot about the scars that littered your arms (or anywhere else, so so sorry to be so an inclusive ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)) you put on a pair of your favorite shorts and shirt and head out the door to joosts place, not even looking twice.

Once you arrive, an equally excited Joost greats you and drags you to his room. You weren’t even thinking about it, so in love with your boyfriend to even care. He didn’t even notice either, finding every part of you perfect…until.

Until you lifted your arm in a certain way, that put your scars on full display. You noticed that Joost stoped mid speaking and looked over to him to see his face that was full of emotion that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was a mix of sadness, confusion, fear, and shock.

You look at him confused until your eyes follow his that were deadpan staring right at your scars. You gasp softly and cover your scars, sitting up immediately. You felt ringing in your ears and your heart rate quickening. You lower your head and feel the tears of shame and embarrassment start to burn in your eyes.

You feel the touch of your beloveds soft fingertips grab your hand, interlocking y’all’s fingers and pulling your arm towards him. You keep your head down and squeeze your eyes shut trying to block everything out.

When you suddenly felt soft kisses on the places your scars were spread. Your eyes snap open and your head raises to look at Joost. He presses soft and gentle kisses on every.singe.scar. He makes sure to press 3 to each one for good measure.

Your heart feels heavy and you just burst into tears, Joost is close to tears as well. Once hes done you immediately jump into his arms, he strokes your back and whispers soft words of praise to you waiting for you to calm down.

Once you’re calmer, only small tears flowing down your wet cheeks he props you in his lap and holds you close. “I knew something was up when you kept wearing all those long sleeves..” he whispers almost kicking himself for not noticing sooner.

“I-I’m sorry… they’re old I promise!! A-and I just didn’t want you to see because they’re ugly and i just didn’t-” your cut off by a soft kiss being pressed to your lips. “Shh…you don’t have to give any explanation or reason unless you want to, okay?” He speaks with that signature smile that you loved so dearly

“You’re…you’re not disgusted.?” You ask looking up at him, he almost looks exasperated at your words. His eyes widening and mouth parting. “Disgusted.?! Why the hell would I be disgusted mijn geliefde, you’re so beautiful to me. Everything about you, even your scars.” He says with a soft smile and a kiss to your head.

“They’re gross, I ruined my skin and now they’re gonna be there forever…” you argue as you lower your head back down and play with his fingers, “so? Who cares, first of all they’re not gross, they’re not disgusting, you’re not ugly and will never be ugly. You’re not ruined and they just show how much of a fighter you are baby. Nothing to be ashamed about, promise.” He says interlocking your pinkies together

You smile and giggle softly, tears still staining your cheeks which Joost quickly kissed away making you laugh and push his head away, “Joost that tickles!!” You squeal as he smiles and peppers ticklish kisses over your face.

You knew no matter what you looked like or what happened or hell even what you went through he would always be there for you. He would forever and always be your biggest supporter. He loved you for you and nothing less.

[archangeldyke-all]

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter six

Aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Fridays are also the only day where you don’t go directly home after work. Instead of catching the late night Orange line, you snag the Blue and take it down, down, down, right out of the city and it’s the almost surreal serenity of the suburbs. Street lights and cars turn into trees as the sun dips low. Only the ambient sounds of your music and the wheels on the tracks keep you company as you pass familiar stops, all the way to the end of the line.

From there, you walk: down the dark sidewalks, across the one lane roads, stopping only in the little diner along the way. It’s hours later when you finally make it to the doorstep. Before you can knock, the door is ripped open.

“You’re late.” The shortest woman you’ve ever seen stands there, hands on her hips and glasses shoved to the top of her nose bridge. Her scrubs are baggy, but clean, with the name of her service stitched on the pocket: UA Palliative. “I thought you were hit by a car.”

“Sorry, sorry.” you try to laugh her concerns off.

“And you’re sweaty.” Nurse Chiyo clicks her tongue at you as she hands you a face mask. “You should really let him send a car.”

A car would be faster, but you can’t justify someone footing that bill when your metro card has money on it. “The exercise is good for me.”

The woman scrunches her face and gestures to the bag you’re holding. The bottom of the brown paper is practically see through with grease. In the other, you have two styrofoam cups, taken from the diner down the road. “And that food is good for you too?”

“It’s a friday treat.”

“Just don’t feel bad if he’s not hungry,” she sighs with the weight of someone who knows. “Towards the end, the appetite tends to dwindle.”

You slip on your face mask and slip off your shoes. Toshinori Yagi’s home drips with old money; subtle detailing mixed with hints of extravagance, it's the air of wealth with none of the gaudiness. The halls are sparsely decorated, only the occasional artwork and statue to keep you company as you walk to the back of the home, past the luxurious, yet almost never used kitchen and through the abandoned living room. There, in the middle of it all, hangs an oversized picture of Yagi back in his acting days.

If it was anyone else, it might seem egotistical, but the man on the wall might as well be a completely different man, a Yagi from another universe. Bound solely in brightly colored latex, this Yagi grins ear to ear, flexing an obscenely thick bicep for the camera. The Hollywood cameras and actors are a blur in the background. It’s from the set of his first All Might movie-- the one you’ve seen hundreds of times. The longer you stare, the more jagging it is. At 55, Yagi is twice the man that he was in his twenties, but a quarter of the size. All of the important pieces are there -his smile, his laugh, his energy- but there’s a part of him, always locked away in a time where this picture was taken.

You press on into the study. This room is a stark contrast from the rest of the house; it’s cluttered, all flat surfaces stacked with magazines and printed articles. Coloring pages litter the floor, in between broken crayons and pencils.

In between it all is a stick of a man, dirty blonde hair buzzed short enough you can see the shape of his skull. He’s pouring himself over some reading, tired eyes tracing the page with a monotonous haze. He’s lost weight again; you can see it in the sharp dip of his cheeks.

“Happy Friday.” You rap on the door frame and he jolts up in surprise. Hand over heart, he laughs in delight, even though he knew you were coming. “How are you?”

“I thought-” He inhales. You can’t remember all of the details of what’s happened to him, but you know one of his lungs is practically nonfunctional and the other struggles keeping up. “You’d be celebrating your birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.” He pushes up to stand, but you wave him back down. “You should be. Out with friends.”

“I’m happy where I am, sir.” You place everything on the table in front of him and then retreat to your side, your drink still in hand. Once you’re far enough away - six feet- you take off your mask. “Chocolate Peanut Butter shake and extra crispy fries, just for you.”

It’s his favorite. No, it doesn’t have the nutrition he should be getting, but… well, he’s going to die no matter what. Let the man have a fucking milkshake. He takes it in both hands, like he’s cradling an award or a piece of gold.

The first time cancer struck him, Toshinori Yagi decided to leave acting and do something with his money. He didn’t have a family to take care of -- and his sister is independently wealthy-- so he invested in medical technology. He hired a team that knew better than him, put some of them through school, and grew a rather successful business from the ground up, no formal training of his own. Now, ironically enough, he’s wealthier than ever, and still pouring it into product development.

“You do too much.” He picks the darkest fry of the group and crunches down on it.

It’s the least you can do. Isolation is taxing; you don’t mind sacrificing a bit of time and $19.76 for a quick meeting and meal. You settle down in your usual spot- a fluffy velvet chair in the corner of the room- and take a long sip from your own drink.

“How are things with Shouta?”

You choke so hard it goes up your nose. How did he know? Did the interns figure it out and pass along the word to the whole office? How are you going to explain to your boss that you’ve sexted his colleague? Or did Aizawa tell him? Oh, what if he shared those pictures--

“Wh-what about him?”

Yagi gives you a strange, tired look, brow knitted with a kind concern. “You called me- about his employee?”

You physically sigh with relief; no one knows. Everything is good; you need to stop panicking. Aizawa won’t share the pictures; it’d ruin his career faster than it’d ruin yours. Besides, he’s apparently embarrassed of you, so why would he even show you off? “Oh, well, everything’s good. Kaminari is back in the office.”

Your boss chews a single fry for a long while. A melancholic twang stirs inside you. No, you haven’t known him as long as some people, but over the years you’ve gotten attached. He’s a fair man, a good one too. Watching him waste is… it’s hard. Plain and simple. On the books, you say that you visit for work, but it’s honestly a social call, something to quell your worries.

“He wasn’t very happy when-- I called,” Yagi draws in from his nasal tube as he talks sometimes and it cuts his words short.

“Yeah, I know.” That’s an understatement. You chew on your straw as you try to decide how to respond. “Aizawa had some choice words for me afterwards.

The look on Yagi’s face tells you that he already knew that. Word always makes it back to the big boss one way or another; even sick, he always has his fingers in every pie.

“Don’t let him-” He runs out of breath in a weird spot. “Push you around. He’s a strong personality.”

That’s an understatement too. You wish you could stomp your feet and demand for his removal, but unfortunately Aizawa is very, very good at his job. Besides, you don’t especially want him fired. Maybe just… a series of paper cuts everyday for the rest of his life. Or that his train never comes on time. Nothing serious.

“Trust me- I won’t.” You throw an arm up and flex. “I can put up a fight.”

“No fighting.” The man tries to give you a stern look, but it just looks a bit silly. As demanding as it sounds, it's like being scolded by a grandfather; there’s too much affection between you for anything to feel threatening. “Don’t wage any wars in my office.”

“No promises!” you tease. “Ready to go over reports?”

He smiles back, those hollow cheeks pulling into tiny apples. “Of course.”

…

It’s late when you finally make it home. Yagi had forced you into a car, calling it a birthday gift, and the drive was long and quiet. The driver turned on some soft music, songs with the tinkle of piano, and you almost dozed off by the time he rolled into your apartment complex.

You kick your heels off and strip out of your work clothes as you enter your apartment, letting everything stay where it falls. In the wake of Touya, your place is pretty much empty, with the carpet still pressed in spots where lamps and tables used to be and a jammed lock that won’t click closed. The less time you spend here, the better. You throw yourself onto the couch -something too big to take, apparently- and flick on the television. The usual mindless garbage you like is already on; perfect background noise as you play on your phone.

There’s nothing super new going on. Couple of group chat notifications. Nemuri had texted you to check in-- so did Hizashi. And-

Aizawa’s unopened messages stare at you. There’s no reason to read those texts, right? It’s just mindless sex talk. In fact, he probably doesn’t want you to ever see those texts again.

…Unless he said something important. Maybe he had told you to play dumb at work! Oh, that would open its own can of worms, but at least it would explain why he said to forget everything-

Wait, that wouldn’t make sense. You two were alone at that point. He could have been normal or said something like ‘wow, love your tits!’ or--

Ugh. He wouldn’t say that! Ugh!

You pull on your messaging app again. You need to get this over with.

-> I bet you looked so pretty when you came.

The preview still makes your skin prick with unwanted excitement. The lust nipping at your ankles isn’t easy to ignore as you tap the button and open the conversation. The immediate visage of your words, your drunken musings and flirtations, makes you physically cringe. Luckily, the new messages take up enough space to keep you from seeing your own nude visage.

The first response hits you like a truck.

-> Do you have any idea what I’d do to lick your fingers clean? What I’d do to smell your perfume on your skin?

The thrum of your heartbeat goes funny for just a flash of a moment and you have to shake off any semblance of arousal. No-- you do not like this. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about that thought! You don’t want the warmth of his tongue or the tickle of his breath against your pulse point, or that little bit of scruff against your lips-

The video is below the first message. It’s paused on an out of focus still, but you can make out the golden touched skin of his stomach and the blur of hand. Heat flickers in your core at that, but you tense your legs and try to ignore it.

Get yourself together. It’s just a fucking jerk off video. You scroll right by it.

-> Look at what you do to me. It’s all for you.

There’s a couple of minutes between that text and the final one.

- >I think you fell asleep. Talk in the AM.

And… that’s it. Nothing else.

That told you nothing, other than the fact that Aizawa Shouta is just like any other man: a horny freak. A sexy, amazing texter of a freak, but still a freak regardless! When you move, you can feel the wetness between your legs spread against your pussy lips.

You turn over and try to focus on the medical drama that’s onscreen. Ugh. Ugh! You're over this man and his fucking bipolar attitude and his work bullshit and his, his, his….

The click on the wall ticks away.

His kind of alluring demeanor.

You turn back to your phone. Maybe the video has an answer. Yeah.

The volume on your phone thrums with audio, low and deep, when you click the image. It takes you a second to realize it’s a groan- unabashed and loud- and you swear it resonates deep down into your own lungs.

This video is aimed a bit higher than the other and is shot from farther away, probably resting on a desk from the looks of it. It feels silly that you ever confused him with Touya. Shirt clutched between his teeth, Aizawa’s skin is a deeper color, completely untattooed, and his chest is filled out with weight. A broad, thick hand is white knuckle tight around his cock, glazed and dripping with wetness. It’s thick, oh god, it’s thick, and he’s holding it so tightly that it must hurt. Your jaw aches at the sight of it. Everything about him is wide//, from his cock to his thighs to his slightly soft middle.

A bead of precum rolls from his tip as he slowly drags his hand up and back down. His entire body jumps and twitches with the sensation, a red blush tickling down his chest and another moan on his lips, muffled by the fabric of his black shirt. He makes the same sound again, this one softer, almost affectionate--

And you realize something that feels like a punch to the gut.

He’s saying your name.

Heat flushes your body. Oh, you can barely breathe out of fear you’ll miss something. With a high, tight sound, Aizawa’s body goes stiff, but his cock kicks as he comes undone. Spend splatters down his chest and onto his black shirt, pearl string after pearl string. Just like everything about him, it’s too much.

And then the video ends.

You digest this for a long moment. Then, you watch it again. And a third time.

There's a tremor in your hands as you put your phone down. Okay, that didn't give you any information, but it- well-

Fuck, it was hot. Really fucking hot. Unfortunately, terribly, awfully, horrendously hot. You want to scream and kick and rub your clit just a little, because all you need is a little friction and you'll cum for him again--

No. You can't give that victory to him, not again. Even if Aizawa will never know about it, the universe will.

You grip the remote and turn up the television's audio, trying to shift your focus on to the interpersonal drama on the screen. You’re stronger than this. The little thing between your legs does not dictate your behavior!

You don’t jack off that night.

Or the following night.

Or the following.

No, you resist. You punish yourself for even entertaining the idea of cumming to the idea of him again.

Monday morning you are unsurprisingly cranky when you settle into your desk. Kicking off your shoes and booting up your computer, you stretch in your chair and try to pop the kink in your shoulder. Thirty must be catching up with you, because you didn’t sleep well all weekend. Every muscle in your back is bunched, but the little bits of movements seems to be helping-

“Jesus fucking christ, I'm sweating through my fucking shirt.”

Bakugo's accent slips out as he gripes, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck as he walks. It’s easy to forget that he and Izuku grew up in the same hometown, but when he’s genuinely pissed, that homecooked Southern twang comes out. You look up to see what's gotten him so aggravated before nine. Sweat dampens his hair and glitters his skin. Oh, and he's right, that white shirt is absolutely clinging to his middle, into that tight, tiny, toned, slutty little waist of his--

Oh, god. You slam your foot into the edge on your desk in hopes the pain douses whatever horny monster had overtaken you. Is this just life now? Practically drooling over every man with a pulse? Bakugo Katsuki is gay and very much not your type-

“You okay?” Izuku gives an awkward laugh. He and Denki are apparently right behind Bakugo, equally worn. Well, almost equally. Denki doesn't seem to be sweaty at all, despite his puffing. “You're like, making this weird face.”

Shit. Quick-- lie. “Cramps.”

“Damn, hate that,” Kaminari grips his stomach in sympathy. The other guys share an uncomfortable glance.

“So-” You change the topic. “Why are you guys..?”

“The elevator is shot.” Bakugo hooks a thumb behind him towards the stairs. “Had to carry this fuck ass bed up to the fifth floor for that meeting today.”

The investor meeting: even though Toshinori Yagi is wealthy, the newest bed prototype still needed outside funding. These fine millionaires require occasional proof that their money is being used well, so once a quarter they get jammed into the nicest room in the building and get a rather boring lecture from the important department heads. You usually sit in and try not to nod off when Enji starts in with the accounting information.

“The entire elevator?” You lean back in your chair and try to see. Sure enough, some technician is fumbling away at the buttons. “No one tell the ADA.”

“Actually, the ADA is a law, not a governing body,” Izuku chirps. “It's enforced by the DOJ, EEOC, and, oddly enough, the DOT-”

“How do you know this shit?” Denki says.

“Healthy curiosity,” Izuku tries to say.

“‘cause he's a fucking genius.” Bakugo says at the same time, louder and more confident. “Using that big head of his all the time.”

Izuku touches his temples with a concerned frown. “You think my head is big?”

“Massive.” Bakugo elbows his lover, all saccharine smiles. “It works for me though.”

Kaminari snorts and the other blonde throws him an icy glare.

“What? You gonna make a joke about massive head?”

Kaminari throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes, surprisingly annoyed at the jab. “I was going to joke about his head working for you, but whatever! Ruin my fun.”

“As much as I love head jokes-” you interject. “I do need to get work done.”

Kaminari turns to you with the sweetest of smiles, so syrupy that everyone else recoils a bit with suspicion. “Like what?”

“Getting everyone’s powerpoints together, printing out our reports, putting those reports into actual human words and not engineering garbage, greeting our guests-- blah, blah, blah.” Just talking about it makes your head ache. “Plus the other daily reports and---- Kaminari, no.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“You were going to ask me to do your work again!” you say.

“Come on, please?” He puffs his bottom lip out like a kicked dog. “I have to leave early this week and -”

“Denki, you’re so fucking stupid.” Bakugo groans. He starts to leave and the other two follow behind. “I'm too tired for your shit today.”

“There’s a gay joke hidden in there.”

“I'm going to report you to fucking HR.”

“See you at lunch?” Izuku asks from over his shoulder. You shake your head-- you’ll probably just sneak one of the forgotten italian ice cups from the freezer when no one’s working. There’s so much to do and not quite enough time.

--

You’re solving that little frozen treat into your mouth when Aizawa makes his appearance. It’s strange to see him so late in the day; pure embarrassment must be keeping him away. His usual sunny yellow sweatshirt means you can’t even pretend not to see him when he rounds the corner.

Aizawa is as he always is; a bit scruffy and properly annoyed. His expression is neutral, if not a bit sour, but the crinkle in his brow is tighter than ever. The bunch to his shoulders only gets higher when he spots you.

This is really the guy that's been tearing you apart? Really? Why couldn't you have fallen for Hizashi or Enji or-- anyone else that isn't wearing a neon hoodie in the office.

“You should really take a proper lunch.” Those deep bags under his eyes are darker than usual, almost purple; he must be drained, but he’s been avoiding the coffee machine. A twang of sympathy hits you-- lack of caffeine might actually kill the guy.

When he walks towards you, you're reminded of how pretty he is, even without proper sleep. High cheekbones, smooth olive tone skin-

Your fighting spirit almost fades, but the post it note taped to your monitor catches your eye. Be mean. Yes, that's right.

“Well, uh. What do you want?” Your tone is a bit snappy.

His eyebrows twitch up in momentary surprise, but Aizawa recovers quickly.

“The elevator won’t be fixed until tomorrow.” He raps his knuckles against the wood once. “Move the investor’s meeting from the top floor.”

“Say please.”

Aizawa is half turned and midstride when he realizes what you said. He looks back at you, brow knit.

“Excuse me?”

“I said.” You hit the spacebar with a bit too much force. “Say please.”

“I-” You expect him to fight or argue, but he just sighs, hands on his hips in defeat. “You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't demand things. Can you please move the investor’s meeting from the top floor down to the ground floor? Thank you.”

That was more sincere than you expected. Your stiff upper lip almost wobbles. Almost.

“No.”

He gives you the most deadpan stare you’ve ever seen. “What do you mean, no?”

“I said no.” You push back from the desk and let your wheeled chair roll away. “There’s no reason to move it. The room upstairs is already set up for the meeting-- full demo bed included. I’m not moving everything.”

A muscle tightens in his jaw. Seems like that good attitude is on a short fuse. “There's a second demo. I'll have the boys wheel it into the meeting room on this floor-”

“It’s a less finished model though, right?”

“That's…” Aizawa huffs. You know you’re right and so does he. “Yes. Sure. A less complete model, but it’s still leagues ahead of what they saw last time- ”

“We shouldn’t use it.” You have no right bossing him around, but you try to embody Bakugo and his cunt-like behavior. “They are going to see the best we have to offer. Besides, the fifth floor meeting room is bigger and nicer-- and it's already set up.”

“I-” He leans forward, arms crossed on to your desk. It’s not threatening, but rather humble, as he meets your eye. The silver healed skin of his scar catches the light differently than the rest of his face. “It’s four full flights of stairs.”

“And you can walk.”

A beat passes. Then another. Aizawa stares at you, dark eyes hooded with exhaustion.

“I have never, ever thought of you as a cruel person.” He doesn’t blink the entire time he speaks, deep, endless black eyes boring into yours. “But time and time again, you show me that side of you. “Well-” You don’t blink either. “I’ve always thought you were awful.

“Fuck you,” he grits out, quiet but with an edge. His lips are curled so high you can see his gum line.

You should let it die here. Let him walk away. Escape with your dignity.

But your teeth and tongue are sharp, and the look on his face is only sharpening their edges, so follow the instinct and go in for the kill. As you stand, you lean on to your hands and push yourself face to face to Aizawa. Unabashed, unafraid, unblinking.

“You wish you could.”

His face collapses. Then, it hardens again, even tighter and more disgusted than usual. The flat ridge of his nose is crinkled with a snarl, eyes narrowed so thin they're practically closed. When he pushes away to stand, Aizawa jams his hands into his sweatshirt and flexes his jaw, up and down like he's chewing on every insult and curse he wants to throw your way. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again with a deep exhale.

“Fine.” He says through closed teeth. “Fifth fucking floor.’

And with that, he turns and marches off back down the hall.

By the time you breathe again, you realize your hands are quaking. The adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, rushing your heart faster and faster. This must be how a marathon runner feels when they cross the finish line-- because this is victory.

Sorry, Yagi. War has been waged.

You did say no promises.

[sanjisluvbot]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Reader

Masterlist

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[ Check Masterlist for ch 9-19 ]

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Life began to feel so boring. The days blended into one another and suddenly we’re in march. Staying up late catching up on your favorite show because there is nothing better to do right now. One piece was such a breathe of fresh air, full of adventure and characters that seem amazing to be around and explore the world with. You wished to be in the world where u can freely be who you wanted, the world where you weren’t shackled by the burdens of reality.

You’ve been around all the corners of the internet so you know of shifting and astral projection which is exactly what seems to be going on right now. Rewatching episodes leading up to the time skip around 4 in the morning till your eyes flutter shut. Suddenly the wafting scent of the ocean filled your nose. “ Is she a stowaway?” “ How have we just found her we haven’t been on land for over a week now”. You opened your eyes to the snout of a reindeer and other very familiar faces.

You sat up so fast knocking into the poor doctor. Panic set through you because the first assumption anyone would have is that they’re in a dream or— congrats you’ve finally lost your damn mind. “ Who are you people”.

“ We’ve got the same question for you”

“ well I asked first”

The blunt part of a sword was thrust into your face by a very angry green swordsman. Fear etched across your face you give him a once over. Zoro. To your left was Robin and chopper holding his snout on her lap. There should be absolutely no reason that you’re in this world with these wacky 15th century pirates from your goofy anime show. Your voice shakes as you try to convince the green haired man to stop threatening your life.

“ Listen this is surely a misunderstanding, I really don’t understand how I have gotten here and I’m not really too sure who you people are.”

Maybe if they think that I don’t know who they are I can figure out a way to get out of this mess without ruining the story.

“ What is your last memory before you woke up on our ship” a voice from behind spoke. Turning to the left at the top of the stairs was Nami with Sanji following behind her.

“ I was laying in my bed falling asleep and then I woke up here”

After that you were bombarded with questions, what’s your name, your age, if an 8ft skeleton can see your underwear and it nearly drained the life out of you. The sun was now beginning to set after such a long day of being interrogated by the crew you used to watch through a screen. The captain was sitting on the head of the Sunny watching the day fade away when he stretched his arm to you pulling you to sit with him.

It was quiet for a while and nerves began to set in. Does he see through me? I know a lot of people don’t give luffy the credit but he’s way more intelligent than you’d think. “ What is it like where you’re from y/n” he spoke as he turned to face you.

“ Very different.”

“ Tell me about it please”

The sun completely faded into night and the stars littered the sky while you told luffy about “ where you’re from” and he was absolutely entranced by the world he’s never been. You ended up telling Luffy the truth about your origins, somewhat about himself, there was just something so compelling and trusting about him you didn’t think nothing of it. You slept in the girls room next to Nami that night, thinking about the next step and getting home.

Was this really a dream or did your desire to escape mundane life make you shift into this world of unknown.

The next day you went to eat breakfast with the crew and luffy starts spouting all the things you told him the night before. With seemingly no thought behind his words as he swallowed everything on his plate, though his crew members all stopped to stare at you in confusion.

“ I thought you said you weren’t from here?”

“ You said you didn’t know how you got here”

“ Well I wasn’t exactly lying, I really don’t know how or why I’ve been transported into your world. I just didn’t want to scare you or make you think I’m crazy with all of this.”

Over the next few days you were beginning to settle with the crew, you spent hours getting to know everyone and having the most fun you’ve had in years. Nami and Robin were curious about your world and you were more than elated to tell them all the things you enjoyed. The boys liked when you played their silly games, Sanji was obsessed with everything about you and loved having you perched on the counter when he was cooking so you can serve as his taste tester.

Zoro only just began to acknowledge you after finding out you also had a love for drinking, it became really easy to bond with the man. You knew you had to go back but what’s the harm in spending time with such a loving group of people, it’s not everyday someone is given your experience don’t waste it being worried.

You were able to convince Nami to give you a blank sheet of paper where you wrote all the things you knew about shifting and astral projection. You’ve been with the crew over a week now spending every night trying to shift back to your world. Sometimes you feel close others are strangely disturbed by Robin and Nami whether they are sparking up a conversation with you or knocking things over which disturbs your concentration.

The next few days you began to see birds meaning you were finally reaching land, the sabody archipelago. You know the way this arch ends and you need to go home now before you spend two years on an unknown island doing who knows what because YOU aren’t a straw hat and you have no place where you can learn to polish your skills.

The bubbly island became visible and you’d be reaching it by midday, while you were sitting on the head of the Sunny with Luffy again he asked you his million dollar question.

“ Y/n join my crew” he smiled. Your cheeks burned and you had to turn away from the boy whose smile brightened all your days.

“ Luffy I would love to but—”

“ Great- EVERYONE Y/N” you clasped your hand over his mouth.

“ Luffy l can’t join your crew. I have to go home I don’t even belong in this world”

“ Why do you want to leave” sadness dripped from his voice.

“ Yeah, we’ve been having so much fun” the small doctor announced from the deck.

“ It has been very fun I’ll admit but I don’t belong here with you guys. I’ve got a whole life in my world— and a family and just so much to do.” You reasoned.

The rest of the day the crew seemed angry and distant, you simply couldn’t understand why. When they all found out where you really came from they said they would help you get home. During dinner that night you were seated between luffy and Zoro who barley uttered a word while hushed conversations were surrounding the rest of the table. It was insufferable and reminded you of elementary school when someone didn’t want to be your friend anymore and told everyone about it.

“ Luffy are you upset with me? I haven’t done anything wrong”

“ Why do you want to leave? You just joined the crew and were on a new island”

“ I never said I was joining your crew luffy”

“ you know the captain doesn’t take no for an answer y/n” Zoro chuckled.

With a huff you stood up everyone’s eyes landing on you. “ Are you all acting this way because you don’t want me to leave?”

“ Why would we want a crew member to leave us?” Nami’s voice wobbled as tears formed in her eyes. Are they serious? When did u ever agree or tell these people that you were a part of their crew.

“ Listen closely all of you. You have to understand I am not from here, I never joined the straw hats, and I don’t even have any powers I can’t protect myself.”

“ That’s why you have me Y/n-chwaaan”

“ ignore that idiot cook but you have Luffy and I, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you”

“ Who is an idiot you damn moss ball !”

A fight between the cook and the swordsman broke out and you would usually find everything hilarious but…

These people have convinced themselves you are one of them and they don’t want you to leave. You decided tonight will be the night where you will go home with or without their help especially because you already know what’s in store the next day. Laying next to Nami that night waiting for her breathing to even out so you can concentrate with no interruptions you hear soft sobbing.

“ Are you alright Nami..”

“ Y/n I know you want to go back but can you stay a little longer we all care about you and enjoy having you around. We really feel like you’re one of our crew mates”

“ Sure, I’m not missing anything important right now” lying is better than letting this girl cry all night. When her breathing finally evened out you were able to try again.

Eyes fluttering open you were finally in your own bedroom. It was just as you left it, your iPad paused on the intro to one piece and the sun was showing through your curtains.

I really did it.

Life began as usual but you had a newfound appreciation for all the little things that made life worth it. Friends and family found your new outlook pleasant and you finally felt like you turned on a new leaf. While you were getting ready for bed applying all of your creams and oils the Tv in the living room turned on.

Wealth, Fame, Power.

A chill ran through your spine, you haven’t watched the show in over a month in fear of being brought back into that world by some odd chance. Getting up to turn off the tv something in the hallway made a noise. The fear of someone or something being in your house had you clenching on the door knob for dear life.

Just open the door nothing is there you’re only scaring yourself.

Opening the door and walking down the dark hallway into the softly illuminated living room the episode of the strawhats finally meeting up after two years was playing.

“ My favorite arch I should rewatch soon”

“ Why don’t you live it instead?” A voice from behind hissed.

You felt your heart thumping in your ears as you slowly turned to be met with a very angry Captain.

——

Not proofread ! 🫶🏽

I was inspired by a similar stories I’ve seen down the tl hope you enjoyed. Pt 2 coming soon maybe

[honeykyeom]

white noise / track 3: ghosts (teaser)

pairing: lee seokmin x afab! reader

series summary: your best friend seokmin has always been there for you. after a particularly rough heartbreak, you find out he's there for you in more ways than just one.

series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, kpop 97 line antics and shenanigans (specifically seventeen & loona), 18+ (smut is outlined/warned beforehand)

teaser notes: suggestive kinda but no smut, seokmin is a SIMP, two idiots being idiots tbh and there's absolutely no way this could go wrong!!

teaser wc: ~900 words

a/n: heeey...... hey... how ya'll doin? yeah i never thought i would be far enough into writing that i could ACTUALLY post a teaser for the next track.. shoutout to my accountability buddy @smileysuh, ur the best babe. wouldn't want anyone else to cheer for my maybe 800 words a day lol. also congrats to @bitchlessdino my bb i can't wait to see you walk down the aisle so take this lil treat as a token of my love ♡ also pspspspsps @onlyseokmins (love u wife)

If you had told Seokmin that he would be in the position that he’s currently in, he’d think you’re full of shit.

But here he was, sinking into your sectional as you grind on his lap and making his head spin with the ease in which you pull at his roots. Seokmin keeps telling himself it’s a fantasy, one of his many recurring dreams where he’s finally with you, the person he’s been in love with for the past two years. He repeats it like a mantra, to will himself it’s all in his head until it��s something he can no longer deny when a moan leaves your lips, sounding more ethereal than any dream he’s ever had.

Seokmin’s lips slot between yours perfectly, his tongue gracing your bottom lip. Your mewls ring like bells in his ears, sweet and inviting–he can’t help but smile into your kiss. He’s determined to continue hearing your noises, his nerves firing against every logical thought in his brain.

The kitchen counter of your humble apartment is littered with chips, stray alcohol & red solo cups. Neither of you pay it any mind though, too preoccupied with the present moment as Seokmin’s hands graze your lower back and you straddle his hips, your bodies sinking further into the soft fabric of your sectional. 

Seokmin’s lips chase yours when you pull away from him, not wanting to lose your warmth. He’s completely dazed as you view him from above, eyes glazed over in lust and desire. You giggle, bringing your hand to his chin and supporting his head to keep his eyes on you. 

“Are you still with me, baby?” 

He blacks out at the pet name–his brain short-circuiting at the way your breath warms his skin as you speak, only getting enough energy to respond with a soft yes as Seokmin watches you smile at him.

It’s baffling how you have him under your spell and you’re oblivious to that fact. 

Seokmin slowly comes down from his high of the past 20 minutes–registering the words that you’re speaking to him.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“This…” you take a pause, your thumb caressing the soft skin of his chin as you focus on the oceans of brown in Seokmin’s eyes before you continue. “Us.”

Seokmin quickly sobers up, his hands removing themselves from your waist but laying purchase on your thighs. He tries his hardest to keep his composure–you’ve always been able to read him like a book, better than anyone else in his life. You were able to capture every tell with ease, down to a small eye twitch or throat itch. Knowing this, he finds it hard to believe you’re unaware of his feelings for you–the immediate red shade of his ears appearing when he’s in your presence.

‘Breathe’, he tells himself. He does just that before focusing back to the present moment, with you, instead of stuck in his own thoughts.

“Okay. What about us?”

“We need to establish some ground rules.” You take a quick pause, brief, but enough for Seokmin to notice the small drop of sweat growing on the tip of your eyebrow. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Ok then. Rule number 1?”

“This stays between us. Can’t tell the rest of the group.”

“Ok… Seems fair enough.. Rule 2?”

“No unusual PDA.”

Seokmin retorts with a small pout, “So I can’t hold your hand in public anymore?”

You bring a soft smile to your face, slightly giggling at the sincerity in his tone. Running your hand through his hair, you respond, “No, that’s not what I meant! We just don’t want to give ourselves away. So, hand holding between friends is okay.” Leaning closer into Seokmin, he’s suddenly falling into the swirls of color in your eyes and into a trance when your voice gets quieter as you speak. “But kissing,” you punctuate your statement by connecting your lips to his. Seokmin has to swallow a moan as he gets lost in you, pulling you closer and molding your body to his. His hands come to grasp at each side of your face, gentle yet desperate to keep you two moving in unison. 

His efforts were futile, though, as you pull away from him with a smirk, leaving him with the inability to catch his breath. “Isn’t allowed.”

Seokmin is only left able to stare at you, his hands feeling clammy as they still rest on your cheeks. His thumb brushes across your face, his own body heat making your skin hot to the touch. All he can do is chuckle, shaking his head at the predicament he’s found himself in before he’s looking back at you. “Okay. Fine. Is that it?”

“One last rule. No seeing other people without us talking about it first.”

‘Easy,’ Seokmin thinks, but he still has to play it cool.

Raising his eyebrows, a playful tone enters his voice as Seokmin asks, “So, we’re exclusive fuck buddies now?”

You roll your eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more of a safety thing, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ll pretend that you aren’t just keeping your jealousy in check.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Lee?”

You present your pinky finger in between you, a lighthearted ritual that holds the weight of the future of your relationship with Seokmin. It seems too lax for such a situation, but he knows this is as important to you as it is to him with the small appendage in front of him.

“Fine. Deal.”

hehe <3

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Daemon T. Yandere A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon T. Masterlist

[khuzena]

Not just a stone

Aventurine x f! reader

Summary: love, isn't that such a wonderful dream? Despite this, make sure to not get stuck in it. To be stuck in a dream is to abandon reality, yet this dream is all he has.

 Cw. Angst, smut, creampie ig, no comfort bc that's boring

A/n: wrote this under an hour and it's not proofread so 🤷

“All or nothing.”

For most of his life, he's always been just Aventurine. A polished gem, capable of handling anything you dish out to him. Whether it be a heavy workload or cruel treatment from others; his luck seems to never run out.

So when you came around, it was different. 

The way you gently took his hand in yours, your feather like kisses that tainted his forehead— he wanted to run. 

“I love you”, a soft moan escaped your lips as you arched your back from the harsh bending he put you through. 

He wants to see you break, to make you stop this madness; the madness being you treating him like an actual person, not the stoneheart or eccentric gambler. 

But he can't. 

For the first time in his life, he starts thrusting slowly, gently, making sure you're handled with care, as if you're porcelain. 

He leans down to bite on your neck, a part of him wanting to claim you. He's never owned anything that was truly his, that never left him. So when you stare at him with a gaze full of lust— is when he realised he could have something for himself. 

‘pap’, ‘pap’, ‘pap’, sweat trickled down his forehead as his digits snaked to your spent clit, the stimulation sending you over to the edge, is it so selfish to have you, is it so selfish to want you as his own? 

Aventurine does a pretty good job of pushing people away, no one ever had good intentions with his heart. 

For a man who never shuts up, the words are stuck in his throat— are they tears? No, no, he spent enough tears on the day of his capture of his old Master. So why? 

“I'm close—fuck…”, you sigh between gritted teeth, Aventurine lifted your legs onto his shoulders to hit that spongy spot deeper. It's too much. 

Only your wanton moans were heard in his usually empty apartment room. He'd take you out usually in fancy hotels, drowning you in riches till you forget how to breathe, making sure you're taken care of. He's silent. 

Your hole melted around his shaft, it felt utterly lewd on how he shaped your walls to the size of his cock, he can't bear to lose anyone anymore. 

As selfish, as shameless as it seems, he grinds his hips faster into yours, the palm of his hand squeezing your tit harshly as he wants— no he needs to destroy you. 

“Oh— fuck!”, a wave of pleasure washes over you, enough to drown out your senses and any other thoughts in your mind.

Despite this, he continues to move. 

His eyes blown out as he desperately chases his high, fuck. Was it really selfish to just taint every part of you as his so no one would ever dare take you away? 

Tears well up his eyes, not because you feel good, but because of how damn good you are at breaking him with that stupidly lovesick stare of yours.

 He needs to paint your walls white, to litter your skin with enough marks— inflict enough pain on you to make sure he's truly yours.  

The bed shook with his harsh thrusting, was he really making love to you or was he just trying to destroy you enough to be sure he can call you his? He doesn't know, he thinks it's the latter. 

With one more thrust, he never wants to leave this dream. Your eyes rolling to the back of your hand, those gentle hands who cup his cheeks to comfort him now harshly gripping on the sheets, the way you clench down on his cock like a vice— he feels wanted. 

Even if it's just your body that wants him, it's enough.

But you always give more than what you should. 

He smirks when he sees you writhing under him desperately, he's painted your walls white he's happy that he's destroyed you for any other man you'll ever meet again.

No matter how fucked out you are, you still had it in you to pull him towards you, to land a sweet kiss that he swears was just a dream. 

Why can't you just stop looking at him that way? 

“I love you,” again, a whisper so quiet yet it's all he could hear. He bites his lip in anxiety, “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”, why exactly? 

“Just stop,” none of you moved. It felt good being inside you, just plugging your used cunt to keep his cum in there. 

“I don't care, I love you”

He wants to scream, shout, and be angry with you. An aventurine stone is durable enough to withstand being worn in jewellery; it is relatively hard, so it should not break or crack easily. 

But when you're under him, every second, it's like he's about to crack, so close to breaking.

He's being so out of character, he thinks. 

He chewed his lip, the sight of you making him feel nauseous. You're as gentle as the sun, so why stick to him, why burn him until there's no more of him left? 

Do you take pleasure in this madness? Will you leave him just like everyone else? He thinks you're a mind reader, because how else would you know what he's thinking?

“I'm not going anywhere”, you give his arm a reassuring squeeze but it's not enough, “Stop, stop lying to me—”, “I'm not.”

Droplets of tears taint your skin, it burns more than any other hickey or scar he could ever give you, “Why would I lie to you?”

Time and time again, no matter how many times he tries to break you, to own you, it's always you who wins. He might ruin you for any other man, but you'll crush him like selenite under a hydraulic press. 

He can break your body, he can hurt and use you but he'll always be on the losing end because it would mean losing you. 

Again, you find a way to break him with a few words, “I love you.”

It's not a promise, it's your truth.

Like the pathetic man he is, he cries. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I don't want to hurt you”, but you are. You are giving him something to own, not just your body, your love and soul. And for everything he can own, it's something he can lose. 

“Don't do this,” he starts moving again, maybe it'll be enough to drown out his tears with pleasure. 

Fuck— he flipped you over, then brutally jutting his hips into yours. He doesn't want to see your face, it's the last thing he needs to see. “A-aven…”

It feels good enough, good enough to forget the nonsense you kept spouting out earlier. 

“Shut up, just shut up.” He's far from gentle, he needs to break you, he'll succeed this time. 

He fucks into you with vigor, eyes trained on the bouncing of your ass, the pad of his palm slapping it brutally, leaving a fading red on the supple skin. 

“Why do you do this to me?” his voice raspy as his throat burned from tears, from your kindness, “Do you really want to see me break?”

You stay silent, letting him destroy your body, letting him slap each and every crevice, every nook and cranny of your body; because he needs it. 

You try to ignore the tears that dripped on your back, his aggressive grab on your waist. He cries. 

His voice going hoarse, his egocentric behaviour no more, “Answer me!” 

You lowered your head as he destroyed your cunt from the back, why can't he just stop this? Both of you are breaking. 

The more he tries to break you, he kills himself. 

“Please,” his ministrations slowing for a moment to let you think, you cannot ignore his pleas. 

Out of common courtesy in a conversation to reply, “It's not my fault you are.”

Ah.

“I hate you—,” “Aventurine, stop.” 

Your walls clamp down on his length, he goes faster, pulling your hair. At this point, he's trying to kill you, not just break you.

“Shut up, please…” he begs again. 

‘pap’, ‘pap’, ‘pap’, you oblige and don't say a word. One more, one more. You can't see his face but his breaths got heavier, you know he's crying too. 

Like a frenzied man, he goes faster until you can no longer take. He wants you to leave him so he doesn't have to lose you the way he's lost every other thing he's loved. 

Cum spurted on the bedsheets, a trademark for your stupid little affair. 

He pulls out, no longer wanting to be close to you, “Don't go,” are you out of your mind? No matter how many times he tries to push you away, you keep pulling him towards you.

“I can't promise that.” he gives in. 

“You don't have to, just stay.”

“I have to go.”

“Please.”

Just this once, it's okay to indulge in you. 

He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, desperate for validation. You stare back into his, with empty ones. Without a second thought, you hugged him, he knows you're all just a fleeting dream. 

He shudders against your touch when you leave familiar kisses on his neck, dangerously close to the barcode of ownership of IPC on him. He can't bring himself to tell you to stop. 

For all his life, he was Aventurine first, never Kakavasha. Tonight, he is not an Aventurine. Not the stoneheart, not the IPC's ornament. He is yours.

Enough time passed that you fell asleep, he draped the comforter on your used body. He can't bring himself to give you a final goodbye kiss. 

He closes the door quietly, knowing there won't be a next time. 

A voice rings in his ears, “Did you enjoy your dream? If so, leave a 5 star review!”

He sighs to himself, exiting the dreamscape.

Note: it's kinda meh since it was just a spur of the moment kinda fic and i forgot how to write good smut since its been a while 💀. I hope its okay.

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[creepzkilla]

Hello there! May I request some Masky NSFW headcanons? I love your writing and devoured the Toby and EJ ones so fast. Feel free to make it as dark as you want!

↳˳⸙;; ��� MASKY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗

Nsfw. warning-- fem! gentials not proof read, sadism, humiliation, oral, marking, gun play, corruption,

[A/N-- PLS READ. my official back to tumbler post! i will be going through my inbox of creepypasta requests-- after I am done with them all I will be not writing for creepypasta until I am back in the fandom! lately I haven't been too into the fandom and will be focusing on the other fandoms. feel free to still send in requests-- but you have until the 18th to send them in! then I will be closing any asks for creepypasta.

MASKY IS NOT A VERY AFFECTIONATE MAN—

let’s face it, he isn’t, and you’ve come to terms with that. his love language is more acts of service. you know that he'll always be there for you no matter what. doing your chores around the house-- making the bed, the little things, is how you know he loves you. but you've always found another way. sex.

sadist/ humiliation: masky is known as being brutal. someone who would do anything to get what he wants. he just loves to humiliate you-- degrading you in a public setting, making you wear a vibe to a nice dinner setting-- and he revels in your pained expressions that begged for release

oral: he adores seeing your pretty mouth wrapping around his cock with tears in your eyes. you were never good at deepthroating, it makes it even worse when he shoves his girthy cock down your throat and starts fucking it without letting you breathe.

marking: he could spend all night littering bites and hickies all along your body that will surely last days. but don't worry! once they fade away, they'll be replaced with even darker ones!

gun play: this is self-explanatory... masky loves placing his glock-19 against your temple as you go down on his cock. the fear in your eyes when his eyes meet yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

corruption: all the pastas, i feel have a sense of humanity left-- even if only a sliver. their other half--their murderous persona's take pleaser in seeing the innocent face of their new fuck buddy be taint by their corrupted hands. masky partially is rough with his toys, fucking their holes as long as he wants, using them as practically a fleshlight.

stretching: he loves stretching out your tight walls with his girth as your hands claw against anything you can find. you’re pussy if just so tight

MASKY HAS DEFINENTLY TRIED TO CONVINCE YOU TO A THREESOME--

i mean, how could you blame him? he just wants to flaunt your perfect little body and face. so why not let someone else have a turn with you? just to let them know how good he has it with your divine mouth and pussy. to be honest, he pities anyone who hasn't experienced you in your entirety. esp, your pussy.

5 INCHES ISNT ALL THE BIG, BUT A GIRTH OF 7 INCHES--

is fucking insane. im serious 7 inches for the circumference of a dick is massive. built like a coke can. masky is so girthy that he has to stretch you out first before having sex with you or his tip won't even go in. sometimes when he can't wait anymore, he just shoves it in with no warning as tears brim your eyes and your hand grabs the nearest thing it can.

—-ˋˏ [‘in through your nose, out through your mouth’] ˎˊ

--("mmm, p-please hurry up and stretch me out already.." desperate moans fell from your mouth as your thighs ached from your position. your head; shoved into the pillow as you used your arms for extra comfort with your ass up in the air.

the tightness in your stomach increased with every moment as you laid buried in the satin pillow sheets. a thick warm substance ran down your tired legs, seeping out of your hole-- a sign that you are more than ready to take your lovers cock in full. yet, he seemed to be taking his sweet time.

the killer was utterly enthralled by the sight in front of him. his hands traced the curves of your ass in an almost desperate attire that sent shivers down your spine. his thumbs stretched apart your ass, showing off your heat that was soaked in your own excitement. he marveled at the thought of you getting off to him, its only been a mere 10 minutes, and you're already this wet. its a marvel to him.

you feel his hands prying you open, displaying you perfectly in front of him. it was like you could feel his hungered gaze burying in your skull, into your hippocampus; therefore it being permanently ingrained into your memory. this moment-- filled with nothing but lust, and hunger as he stared at your heat as if it was on a golden platter, made from the finest gold.

"y'know... youre just so fucking pretty," you practically moaned at his words as his hands run through your tangled hair, giving it a harsh tug, making you hiss, "have I ever told you that?" he sneered almost, lust and anger mixed in between. he was angry at himself for taking his precious time playing with you-- worshipping you, but he couldn't bring himself to just fuck you, no he needs to savor this. he needs this memory to be ingrained into his very being so he can just replay this--sight, over and over again.

"please... please i need you--" a desperate whine fell from your mouth, you felt as if you could explode. the knot in your stomach tightens with the very thought of his cock entering your body, if anything you could cum on that thought alone-and you might- if he didn't hurry up.

masky sighed before taking a deep breath. he positioned his cock at your aching entrance, brushing against your folds ever so slightly, sending tingles down your spine. he about just came right then and there, you're just so fucking wet. but that doesn't mean its gonna be easy getting it in.

"imma need you take a deep breathe for me okay?" you obeyed, taking a deep breathe, letting your chest rise and fall- preparing.

this cock pries at your entrance, struggling to get in. even with your pussy being so wet, you still didn't want to open up for him. by now, some time had passed as he tried to get it in but, to no avail. he was beyond annoyed at this point, just wanting to fuck you dumb on his thick dick.

with his patience wearing thin, he shoves his cock in with no warning-- slipping past your pussy with ease. a curdled scream rips through your throat as it slowly morphed into scattered whines and moans.

"breathe through your nose, out through your mouth, hun." you hear the flick of a lighter and the smell of cigarettes permeate the room. you always hated when he smoked in the bedroom (despite how good he looked fucking you with a cig in his mouth)-- it always ruins the complete mood. (you could imagine what he looked like, a cig loosely y hanging from his lips as his muscles flex with desperation-- almost like he's holding back.) but your mouth was too busy to form any coherent words as an endless barrage of moans cascade from your lips-- and he's only stretching you out... he hasn't even begun fucking you yet.

masky could cum right now if he wanted to. with your tight pink walls stretching so good against his thick cock, if he could he would be able to stretch you out like this every moment of every day. it just feels so good-- he almost forgot he needs to begin fucking you. he hasn't even started fucking you yet and he already needs to cum? how pathetic is that? he balls ached how much he needed to cum.

"well, i hope your ready because im ready."

"w-wait it still hurts--"

"remember? in through your nose, out through your mouth...now breathe."

[ddejavvu]

hey if you’re not too busy could you do sth with like perv!eddie seeing the reader (his gf) in a bikini and he like dry humps her or sth? if not it’s okay i hope you’re having a good day<333

combined with: could you do something where the innocent!reader and perv!eddie are gonna go swimming but he sees her in a bikini and he just can’t help himself please? if you’re busy that’s okay!!<333

thank you both for being so sweet :D <33

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"I'm gonna head inside for a sec," You call out to Robin, "I want a snack!"

Your bathing suit is still soaked, puddles left behind where your feet hit the ground. But you towel off just before you go inside, bundling yourself up so that you don't drip onto the floor.

You head straight for the kitchen, reaching eagerly for a cookie. It's frosted, and you feel some of the white frosting smear messily across your upper lip when you sink your teeth into it.

"Good cookie?" Eddie's voice comes from behind you, his arms caging you to the counter and startling you.

"Eddie!" You gasp, your chest heaving as you turn clumsily around to face him, "God, you scared me!"

He's wet. You had the courtesy to dry yourself off before coming inside, but it looks like Eddie beelined to follow you and neglected his towel. His hair is stringy, water droplets dripping onto his chest and streaking down the skin there that's littered with tattoos.

You gulp. He notices.

A sly smirk flits over his face, and he leans down to kiss the frosting off of your lips. His tongue slides smoothly over the smear of icing, collecting it and sweeping it into your mouth. He spreads it over your own tongue, the sugary taste of vanilla marking your kiss.

As much as you're enjoying the sticky sweet kiss, you know you'll never hear the end of it if you get caught making out in the kitchen. You push against Eddie's water-dotted chest, lips shining with saliva under the lights as you pull away.

"We're gonna get caught," You warn him with wide eyes and an accusatory finger, "We cannot get caught."

"We won't get caught," Eddie scoffs, glancing behind you at the tray of sweets, "Get me a cookie?"

You mumble something along the lines of 'get it yourself', but there's no malice in your mind to match that in your voice. You'll grumble and groan at Eddie all day long, but you love the man.

You turn back so that your stomach is pressed against the counter, fingers outstretched and reaching for another one of the frosted treats. Before you can grab it, though, you feel Eddie's hands clamp down over your sides, your hips yanked backwards slightly as he thrusts his own forwards.

You barely contain your indignant shout, but the squeak you let out is still dangerously loud. Eddie huffs as one hand flies from your waist and out towards your half-eaten cookie, stuffing it in your mouth that's still ajar in shock.

"I thought you were the one worried about getting caught," Eddie drawls, voice condescending and wry against your ear, "Maybe you should stop making so much noise if you don't want anyone else to know what's happening."

You can't spit the cookie out onto Steve's nice, clean countertops, but the mouthful of dry, flaky dough combines with much-too-rich frosting and creates a perfect paste that glues your mouth shut. All you can do is breathe through your nose, slowly working through your mouthful. All the while, Eddie tugs your hips closer, cock hardening against his soaked swimsuit.

The towel you'd wrapped yourself in flops to the counter after Eddie yanks at it, a full view of your body now accessible to him. He groans, muffling the sound against the skin just below your ear. He ruts desperately against your ass, one hand snaking around your waist to thumb at your clit. The sensation makes you gasp, and as a result, your core throbs. Your stomach caves, and it only allows Eddie to yank you closer, his lips slick as they mash into your skin.

"God fuck," Eddie breathes, "It's like- like you're just wearing a bra! And- underwear, shit."

"It's just a swimsuit," You croak, cakey dough still clogging your throat.

"Shut up," Eddie scoffs, reaching blindly for something else to stuff in your mouth and coming up only with the semi-wet towel, "Here. Bite this."

"I don't want to- oh!" You yelp, the fabric already on your tongue, "Eddie!"

It comes out muddled and groggy, but he hears it. His fingers tighten on your hips and you feel his cock twitch, somewhere tight against your ass. He cums with a shuddering breath and a shaky swear, eyes squeezed shut, not that you can see it from where he hovers over your shoulder. The fabric of his swim trunks, already wet, doesn't show the stain, and you know he's grateful for that as he plans his escape to the bathroom. He barely remembers to take the towel out of your mouth in his rush to flee the scene before witnesses arrive, but when he does, he presses a kiss to the spot where it sat.

"Thanks, sweetheart," He grins, eyes mischievous, "Meet me in the pool house later to shower off, we can go for round two."

[write-like-you-mean-it]

Sinfully Planned

NanamixReader

Warning: Smut, Vouyerism, hairpulling, eating out woman, oral, cumming inside, more dominate Nanami, cheating too

I hope you all like this one! I know I've been gone for awhile. I'd hope to come back soon but I can't promise anything. Hope you have a good day and happy reading!

I almost never forget anything. I never lose my car keys or my purse. Except for one time. It so happened that I left my keys at Nanami’s apartment. I’d gotten all the way to mine before I even realized my mistake. A simple text was sent, and I made my way back. I told him to keep the door open for me so I can slip in and out. I thought I knew where I had left them. It was on the table by the couch. The couch where I slept last night due to a fight with my boyfriend. I was expecting them to be there. 

I, however, did not expect to hear something from the bedroom: a call of my name. It was small and almost non-existent. I needed to know why he’d called me though. If it was a fluke, I’d just leave. 

A quick peek through the door frame was enough to quench my thirst for knowledge of what was happening inside. I could feel my heart jump to my throat while watching. My eyes were transfixed on Nanami’s hand holding an already dripping dick. He thrusted his hand up and down to accentuate each muscle in his arm. The other gripping the covers as if trying to get a hold on this pleasure. 

The intimate moment felt even more hot because of how vile it was to keep watching. Although, I couldn’t take a moment away from the beauty in front of me. Nanami’s body was sculpted from years of putting in extra work into his craft. It was sinful, yet beautiful. His abs flexed with the pulse of his hand. Nanami kept a close rhythm as if he was already chasing this high. Sweat littered his forehead while he was biting his lip. Sinful grunts escaped beyond his control. It was the original reason I came to his door. 

I could feel myself holding my own breath as if I did anything would cause this beauty to stop, and the show would end. I should stop watching. I should go back and  pretend I didn’t see anything. All of these “shoulds” may even stop me from doing anything. My mind raced before deciding to take a single step back. One step and I’d be free to pretend my crush never existed. That was until the creek from the floorboards gave away my position. 

I cursed the wooden floorboards we had installed years ago. Maybe he didn’t hear. Maybe I can talk my way out of it. All the maybes in the world wouldn’t prepare me for Nanami standing at the door frame in only a towel. “What are you doing?”

 “Nothing,” I stumbled out while trying to walk away. “I was coming to tell you about where we’d be having dinner tonight.” I was making eye contact but slipped to the towel that barely held up against his waist. It was a simple mistake but it made me feel vulnerable. His gaze was glaring and almost predatory. 

“Do you really think I’d buy that excuse?” Nanami says while stretching to drape an arm on the frame. Sweat still gleaned from his brow and chest. His hair was mildly wet with the same sweat. 

I hadn’t realized how much he towered over me. “No,” I muttered. His build was glorious. A god who found his way on earth. His eyes full of a mystery that he refused to tell anyone else. I couldn’t tell who leaned in first. However, our lips met in a passionate frenzy. It was an angry frenzy of passion. 

Nanami lips felt like sweet syrup. They were a bit chapped but easily fixed with some shared saliva. He pressed my body against his so I could feel every bit of him. The towel slipped so easily off. Same with my shirt. His lust mirrored my own as we broke for a second of time. Nanami’s hand reached around and popped off my bra before dragging me to bed. 

“Fuck,” I mutter as the bed squeaked under my weight. He cut off my curse with another chaste kiss. Each one left me breathless. Nanami’s size was massive over me. I meant that in both possible ways. 

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do to you,” he grunts while tugging at my pants. A quick pull, and they fall off with the rest of my clothes that are all lost to the void. His exclamation made my legs cross in excitement for them to be caught by his thigh. “Don’t close them already. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Nanami’s voice felt commanding yet kind. He cared but steadied himself. A finger ran down my pussy. While gathering the juice, he put it to his lips like a drink. He was tasting before his meal. “Already so wet for me, sweetheart?” 

A blush crossed my face and before I could respond, Nanami dipped his head to lick my clit. A simple swipe but enough to create friction all over. He found his peace making me squirm and moan for him. My hands dug into the perfectly placed hair on his head as I pulled him closer. I wanted every bit of myself to be covering his face. 

It took a bit but he finally found what would drive me over the wall soon enough. His tongue lapped up like a starved man. He was worshiping me. He worshiped each second of eating me out. 

I made sure to praise his efforts as he slowly built me up. Finally, I felt the rubber band snap. Nanami took this joy to watch his handwork. He used his thumb to keep my orgasm rolling through my body. His eyes desperately carve his name into my skin. Once I gain composure, I look up to see he is pumping his cock once again. 

“Was that good sweetheart?” he asks. 

I nod my head still trying to catch my breath. My chest was rising and falling at the same rate as he was jerking himself off. My eyes catch a glimpse of my keys. They were sitting on the nightstand. 

“Did you plan this?” I was confused. Nanami took this to turn me around with my ass in the air. I didn’t get an answer to my question, only his dick pushed against my entrance as if asking if he could. How could I deny a simple request? “Who cares. I want you to fuck me.”

“How can I not oblige?” he grunts before pushing into me. Nanami fills me to the brim. “Fuck,” he grunts while bottoming out. My head buries into the mattress. Possessiveness took over his body. He grips my hair and pulls it back. It was an aggressive but commanding tug. 

“Why do you think I left my room door open too?” he growled while forcing him to look at me. His eyes full of lust as he used me as a counterbalance for his thrusts. Our lips crashed aggressively. For as calculated as he seemed to pace himself, his lips betray him. They were moist and hurried to capture any chaste kiss given. My body leaned deeply into his while feeling a beautiful pain. His hand tugged harder into my hair while the other was leaving indents in my skin. 

His pace was demanding. Filling me up with each thrust. It demanded attention beyond what I was used to giving. It caused me to groan against Nanami’s lips. “Fuck Nanami.” My voice felt small.  He took this as a challenge to make me groan louder. His pace slowed enough to get the burn but not enough to feel the high. I repeated my praise to him.

“You’ll have to be louder than that.” His hand dug into my hair where I let out a cry of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Nanami,” I groaned louder. A resounding smack reverberated around the room. I repeated the curse only to be rewarded with another slap on my ass; however, he let go of my hair. My face fell into the mattress as if it had always been its resting place. One more praise of his name which felt more like I scream made his pace finally speed up. His unaccompanied hand went in between my legs to find my clit. His coarse fingers paced the rhythm. The pace was all too much. It was building to the end. I, also, could feel Nanami’s pace suffer as he was getting closer to his edge. 

“Where?” he grunted.

“Huh?” I asked. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking straight. My eyes were closed while feeling the pace. 

“Where do you want me to paint you?” His voice was becoming more off kilter as if he was trying to race his own high. I was so close. Almost too close. My hands gripped the bedsheets like Nanami did only minutes before. I was focusing on my own high to talk. Drool fell from my mouth as I tried to say words. Finally, I felt the all consuming nature of my orgasm again. Nanami took this to mean inside. His orgasm was hot as he pumped a few loads into me. He groaned my name before finally collapsing to the side. 

The room was filled with the sound of our breath catching up with us. The bedsheets were soiled and in desperate need of a wash. I catch a glimpse of the keys once more. 

“So you did plan this?”

“I wouldn’t say planned. More like it happened.”

Suddenly, a phone’s ringer went off. I knew it was mine, and I knew how deep shit I was in. It was the only person who would put such an obnoxious ringtone on my phone: my boyfriend, Gojo.

[pasdasin]

Ktober day one - Size kink - Loki x reader

a/n: welcome to kinktober! enjoy ur month of fanfics lol this is made in collab with my two of my irls @fuckmachine42069 and @honeybeedrabble! sorry if this is bad lol

cw: pnv sex, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), cussing, slight degradation, prob more

reader under the cut ------

Loki never felt truly loved until he met you. You knew him, witnessed his destruction, and still decided to give him a chance. He never knew that he could feel like this. Especially when you decided to take him to a remote cabin in the mountains, just the two of you. Just as friends. 

God he hated that you just saw him as a friend. He means that friends don’t just share their darkest secrets, they don’t occasionally flirt, and they don’t get drunk and make out- but that was just a drunken mistake, right?

The snow fell outside the cabin the two of you shared a glass of wine you stole from Tony’s collection. He watched as you giggled at the silly card game the two of you were playing. 

“OH! This is a good one” you looked up at Loki from across the couch.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… is there one physical trait you haven’t shown anyone?” Loki was taken aback by the question. Were the two of you close enough for him to show you his true self? The two of you did make out a lot, flirt, but emotionally? Were you more than friends? Could he truly trust you? Fuck it.

“I believe there is one thing…” Your eyes lit up with excitement at this revatation. “Before I show you, I need to know I can trust you.” His eyes scanned your face, praying to whoever would listen that you would say the words that he needed to hear. 

“Of course you can trust me Loki.”

“No that’s not what I mean. I need you to be honest with me…”

“What are you asking me?” Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“Are you in love with me the way I am in love with you” Silence filled the air. Loki turned his back and sighed in defeat . It was so stupid of him to think you’d be in love with him. You two weren’t more than friends who kiss. He felt his arm be pulled by you, causing him to turn  to face you. 

“I…I’m in love with you Loki” He leaned down and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was passionate and full of the mixed emotions the two of you felt towards each other. The kiss grew more heated and the two of you moved back onto the couch. He pulled away from you, straddling your hips and effectively trapping you. 

“Once I show you this. you have to be mine. remain mine.” You only nodded your head and watched in amazement as he transformed before you. His once pale skin turned a beautiful shade of blue. It was icy and cool. His eyes turned a shade of deep, blood red. His height greatly increased as well. Your eyes scanned his body, absorbing all of the new side of loki. 

“Well?” He asked nervously. Your jaw dropped slightly and he slowly felt himself getting amused by your reaction. “You never seen this before?”

“Obviously not. Just… let me” Your hands dragged up and down his body, getting used to all the new bumps and scars that littered his body. His skin was impossibly cold and only turned you on more. Your hands trailed down his abs and hovered over his cock. You looked up at him and searched his face for any signs of regret. 

His eyes only encouraged you further and his hands guided your own to touch him. In his frost giant form, Loki was impossibly bigger than any man you have ever been with before. His cock had barely fit in your hand and as you continued to pump him up and down, you found him to only get harder and harder. He moved to undo his pants and free his cock from his boxers. You watched as his cock sprung free and nearly hit your cheek. 

“Loki,” you looked up at him, his blue skin and red eyes intimidated you, but also made you feel a new kind of excitement. “Once we start, I don’t wanna stop”

“Then what are you waiting for?” He said, gripping your hair. You licked a long stripe up his cock from the base of it to the tip. He involuntarily shuddered and pulled your hair tighter as you moved your mouth to take in his tip. Even that felt like it was a lot. You gently started to bob your head up and down his length, trying to find a satisfactory pace. Loki had other plans, deciding that  he needed more. Your eyes rolled back and tears streamed down your eyes as Loki fucked your mouth, losing himself slightly. 

Looking down he realized only about a third of his dick could fit in your mouth before activating your gag reflex. He reveled in the fact that his size was making you react like this. You moaned and gagged on his cock, making him groan at the vibrations. His grip tightened on your hair. 

“You can’t even take all of me in your mouth and yet you're whoring yourself for me.” You only could moan in response, trying to swirl your tongue around what was in your mouth and jacking off the rest. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his orgasm. 

When he was on the brink, he pulled out of you, leaving you confused. 

“I’m gonna cum in that pretty little cunt if yours.” He muttered to you, as he moved you to your hands and knees. 

“Loki you didn’t-“

“I’ll be gentle” He said as he started to push into your cunt. Your breath grew labored and you started to feel the painful stretch as Loki started to fill you as much as he could. You looked up past the couch and straight into the mirror that leaned against the wall. You could only moan at the sight of his 7 foot body pressing into your much smaller frame. He was like a giant trying to fit into a regular sized door. 

He was anything but gentle. He barely gave you time to adjust to his size before he started pounding into you. The sheer. size of him had you feeling his cock up and into your stomach. He was rough with you, making you believe he was chasing his own pleasure. It didn’t matter when his dick rubbed and filled every inch of your cunt. You were shaking and moaning under him, feeling as though your arms were gonna give out any second.

“Look at you. You barely can fit my cock and here you are already about to cum.” He started to pound into you harder than before, making your legs shake. 

“Please- please let me. I need to-“ Loki hushed you. 

“Cum for me” You felt your pussy clench at his command and a wave of pleasure wash over him. Loki thrusted harder and got sloppier until he finally came inside you. He stilled inside you and panted. Slowly he disconnected himself from you and watched as his cum spilled out onto the couch. 

“Are you okay?” Slowly, you turned to face him, a fucked out expression washing over you.  

“We should’ve fucked sooner”

-----

day 2: titfucking - mista x reader

[harrysmimi]

Little Lad

Synopsis: One where Harry has to take care of his baby on his own for the first time

More of my work

Little Emir was just nine months old and already a big mama's boy.

Harry was very jealous of that really, both ways, that little stole away his wife, and he clearly loves his mum more. But he also cherishes that, seeing his bany have such and amazing relationship with his Mummy already.

YN owned one of the most busy and known Bakery Cafe in the city, which meant her being busy with work most of the time though she still made time for her family. She had a last minute client come in with a huge wedding cake request, which her and her team of course did not deny. But that meant she sad to spend all night at bakery to het the order ready. His anxiety started to settle in when she called in after lunch to tell him she will home very late.

Harry can get through this, right?

He have been on a break since he wife was eight months pregnant. He has been there tending to his little lad along with bis wife. But god did he not except for a full breakdown from his nine month old boy.

All day Harry spent his time, cleaning up after the little boy. It seemed this much when he'd gotten so used to help of his wife. The laundry was a hassle. Washing up the poopy diaper and tiny clothes without anyone by his side.

He had Emir sat by the side on a little blanket with his toys to keep him busy as he did the laundry and dishes for the day. Hearing his little baby talk.

"What are you doing?" He asked, watching his lad be all fascinated by this new toy his mum got him, wood measuring spoons which he could chew on too. He threw it across the room, bunch of spoons went straight to the electronic appliances and started crawling his way to the toy. Harry didn't understand his play time one bit. "No, don't go there!" He picked him back up and fetched his toys.

But is Emir going to listen? He's a little baby!

It happened once, twice, thrice. Harry gave up and moved up all the appliances on the counter. Did it make a huge mess in the kitchen? Yes! At least his little boy isn't going to hurt himself.

There were house chores he had to get all done so his wife can come home and rest after working for hours and hours straight. Being a pastry chef is hard enough. He just wanted to help but he couldn't when he has a baby who is full of energy and adrenaline being introduced to his new toys this week.

Emir takes up after him for that, he would agree.

Harry's the same whilst on stage performing to his fans.

But this was exhausting for him to do everything on his own, plus his anxiety was doing nothing but add fuel to the fire. The boy kept running into things or getting himself stuck in things. He never noticed how easy it is to have another person around to help. It's usually him and his wife doing all the mundane things together, it is easy that way as there is always someone with a baby who had just learned to crawl. And he's a quick crawler.

Harry was becoming more and more tired having to run around after him, or calm him down after very fifteen minutes when he'd go to wash some dishes or get the laundry all sorted, or get the cats fed and clean up their litter boxes. Or when he prepared for dinner for himself and the boy.

Emir had a nappy burst when Harry thought he had gotten five minutes to sit down and breathe. The bath time was traumatising, with Emir screaming and crying for no reason. That's when Harry realised it was long after his nap time and he was sleepy and tired and hungry as well.

"It's okay my love, Papa's here for you." He assured his little boy after he had calmed himself down, which wasn't for more than three minutes. "I love you." Harry wiped his teary eyes with the pads of his thumbs, wrapped him up in a towel burrito before taking him to the master bedroom. He got the little lad dressed in his sleep onesie and brought him downstairs.

"I'm so sorry, Papa is having a hard time with your Mumma gone." He shared as he had him settled into his highchair, "I'm trying my very best, I promise." He felt bad.

Seeing Emir's tired eyes teary, as he was almost dozing off to sleep without having been eaten, it was his fault that he couldn't look after his son when his wife is stuck at work. Only if he could keep track of time properly and have fed him first than getting distracted by cooking and cleaning and doing the laundry. He felt a heavy pit in his stomach of guilt.

"Come on, Emir eat up then we can go to bed." Harry was feeding the little boy his dinner. He was all strapped up in his high chair, busy playing babbling and smacking his hands on the table still tired and worm out to the fullest.

"Mumma-mumma-mumma." He started his squealing. He learned to call both his parents recently.

"Mummy is working, my baby," Harry talked to him, "is that good?" He cooed watching him take a bite of the little rice porridge he made from YN's mum's recipe. "I know it's not as good as your mum makes it, but we can make it due."

His phone started ringing, "oh look, it's your mummy!" Harry answered the face time call from YN and perched up his phone against Emir's water bottle.

"Hello boys!" YN chirped. Harry saw she was kneading some pink fondant. "Are my lads doing lad things that lads do cause lads are cool?" Harry laughed at that.

"Mamma!" Emir squealed.

"Hello my love, are you eating your dinner?" YN said.

"I don't know how you do this." Harry spoke up.

"What?"

"Feed him, he's so wiggly!" Harry exclaimed trying to give Emir another little spoon full of food. "See! This is why I took up on bottle feeding." YN just laughed. Harry's very afraid to spoon feed him because he's afraid that the metal cutlery is going to hurt his boy somehow. He loves to sit with his with a bottle of milk or formula, that's a good bonding activity as well.

"I probably sound like a horrible person, but — Emir come on, darling!" Harry was close to having a breakdown.

"Harry, it's okay, love. You're doing good he just looks a bit tired." He watched her take her phone and head out of the kitchen telling her employees what to do next whilst she talked for a minute on the call. "It's okay!"

"I don't know, I've been anxious all day." He shared, "you do it all so flawlessly."

Honestly she doesn't. He had seen her make mistakes too but she knows how to quickly move on and fix her mistakes. He didn't know how she does that, really. He reckons it's because she lived with her older brother who's got three kids here in London until she married. She always talked about baby sitting the babies when her brother and his wife would go out, for work or whatever it was.

"And that's okay, okay?" She assured him, "I am so sorry I can't come back home right now. You're already doing so good."

"I hope so, he hasn't eaten anything, I forgot to put him down for a nap earlier as I got caught up with the chores." Harry pouted still trying his best to have his little boy fed. "What do I do!?"

"Harry, look at me," she demanded so he did, "play with him for a bit and then try again. If that doesn't work then give him some formula."

"Okay." He nodded. Emir knocked off the bowl of rice, spilling it all over himself. "Oh god, I'm gonna cry!"

The little boy started laughing finding it humourous.

"Yeah, you find it funny huh?" Harry scoffed. Can he be mad at that adorable face? He placed a kiss on his boy's head.

"Anyway, Harry I'll be home after midnight so please don't wait up for me okay?" YN shared.

"Do you have too much work?" Harry looked concerned looking at his tired wife. Yeah, she hasn't been working that much since Emir's birth, but the breast feeding and everything which comes post delivery was taking a toll on her, physically. He hated to see that. He felt bad to even ask that question.

"No, almost done here." She shared, looking down at her work station, "just a handful of things to sort out then, Jay and Kat will be delivering the cake tomorrow at the venue."

"Okay, drive home, yeah?"

"Mhmm, I will." She nodded, "please don't be hard on yourself. Give him some formula and he'll be off to sleep."

"Yeah. I love you."

"I love you too!" YN blew a kiss each to both her boys before she hung up.

"You're a proper lad, aren't you?" Harry sighed and scooped up his son out of his highchair carefully. "Being so rowdy today."

Emir just laughed and shied away, hiding in his dad's chest. Harry chuckled and brought him in the kitchen with him, propping the baby on his hip he made a bottle of formula. "Let's go lounge on the sofa, hmm?"

Harry got comfy with his baby on the sofa, draping the fluffy throw on the boy to keep him warm. Emir just lied on his chest having his meal all sleepy yet it didn't seem like he wanted to sleep.

"Mumma!" He squealed looking at his dad.

"No, baby I'm Papa." Harey laughed. "Can you say Papa?"

"Papa!" He squealed again.

"Yay!" Harry celebrated, pressing sloppy kisses on his chubby cheeks. "I'm really sorry, my love. I was having a bad day today." He felt guilty for having him wait up for dinner. "I hope you aren't mad at me. Mumma is a really good help, isn't she? But she's stuck at work today. I know we shouldn't rely on her but this was the first time were together, isn't it? We had a lads day in today. Well, more like you had a proper lad day. Where did you get all the energy from, hmm?"

Emir just sighed dramatically, resting his head back on his dad's chest. All snuggled up he was starting to fall asleep.

Harry adores his little boy. He worried the day he was born because he didn't had that love-at-first-sight connection with him. It took him time to learn about him. His little boy was a new human and he felt like he needed to get to know him first, but there was no doubt he would protect the little bundle of joy with his life. It took some time to make peace with it all, that it was okay to feel that way.

Now they're both inseparable. Even though Emir is more of his Mumma's boy, he still manages to have fun with his Papa.

Today just added to that all that guilt for him.

The next thing Harry knew was feeling gentle taps on his arm. "Harry, do you wanna go sleep in our bed?" It was his wife he found when he finally opened his eyes and found his boy missing.

"Where did Emir go?" He panicked.

"I put him in his cot." She shared, "do you wanna go upstairs and get comfortable?"

"Yeah, sorry I fell asleep here." He sighed, "when did you get back?"

"Just fifteen minutes ago."

"Hmm, let's go upstairs and sleep. I am so tired." He got up to follow after her, "did you manage to get the order done?"

"Yeah, we did." She yawned making him giggle, "sorry I'm very tired."

"So am I, love." He draped his arm around her waist, tuck her closer to him.

"How did your day go?"

"Oh, don't ask!" He sighed dramatically. "I still feel bad, you know." He was walking straight to bed giving her space to go get ready to join him but, she stopped him.

"It's okay, Harry." She cooed, "come sit here. Please?"

"Come on." He walked her to their bed.

"You don't have to feel bad, okay? I know you tried your best, he knows you did." She assured him, stood in between his thighs to hug him.

"But I don't know if he ate properly." His voice was low as he sniffled, his face buried in her chest. "I got so distracted."

"Harry he's a baby, he'll wake us up if he's hungry." She said, running her fingers through his hair, "you know it's okay to make mistakes I'm sure he isn't even going to remember anything in the morning. We'll do one thing, let's bring him over to sleep in our bed tonight, yeah?"

Harry doesn't like that. He'd insisted on sleep training their baby since he turned six months old, but he agreed today.

"Yeah!" He nodded.

"Harry? You're crying?" She cooed and bent down to look at him. "It's okay, I promise."

"I, I know. I just can't help it." He chuckled sheepishly. YN smiled and wiped away his tears with her sweater paws, press a few sloppy kisses on his either of cheeks.

"I brought made your favourite cake pops." She reminded him, "kept them away in the fridge for you."

"You did?" His face lit up instantly.

"Mhmm." She nodded, "the ones with chocolate cake and coffee butter cream."

"Oh I love you so much!" With his arms wrapped around her middle he pulled her down, flipping them over he buried her down in the mattress.

"Oh my..." She laughed, "I should have told you that earlier."

"Yeah!" He agreed. "You should have!" Lifting his head up from her neck to look at her, he pressed sloppy wet kisses all over her face.

"Now don't go eat them all cuz I used a lot of coffee in it." She explained, "you won't be sleeping tonight then."

"I'll go bring our little lad in then, leave you to relax and do your skincare and stuff." He gave her another peck on the mouth before he lifted himself off her.

"Mhmm."

When YN returned from taking a shower and doing her skincare, he found her boy fast asleep. Emir lied on his side in the middle spooning his small teddy tucked under his arms. Harry lied just behind him with his hand rested on his little tummy.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

[yuckydraws]

A lil oneshot that I'm thinking might become the start of an ongoing fic? We'll see.

Pairing: (HT Sans/reader) with hints of (UT Papyrus/reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Build Up My Heart

It’s fucking hot.

You wipe the sweat off your brow and sigh, looking at all the work you and your team accomplished today. You’ve finally finished the framing for the guest house this family of… rather odd skeletons, have hired you to build. And you understand why.

This already large, cabin-like home is practically overflowing with them.

In your time here, you’ve counted at least twelve.

Twelve people. In one home that, yes, is large, but can’t hold more than maybe five or six bedrooms. 

It’s a wonder they haven’t ripped each other’s heads off - you’ve overheard a fight or two when you’ve taken your lunch on the lawn… and man do some of them argue.

When you first started working here, you swore you were going crazy. Almost every time you saw one of them it was one you’ve never seen/met before. Yet they all seem to look alike in some way, though you’ve kept that to yourself. Maybe that’s just how it is for skeleton monsters, who are you to say something ignorant like that?

Sans and Papyrus, the two skeletons you’ve spoken with the most, have been patient with every setback this project has had, though you can almost see the exhaustion in their sockets every time they pop over to talk progress. Makes you wonder if they’re the “peacekeepers” of the home.

But, then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be wondering too much. You’re just here to work, get the job done, and eventually move on to the next. Which will likely be another cookie cutter house in a subdivision.

… you’ll admit, though, that you’re going to miss seeing some of the wacky things they do.

And seeing that absolutely gorgeous garden of theirs.

It’s basically your dream. It packs an impressive variety of fruits and vegetables all neatly growing in raised garden beds. Marigolds are scattered about, likely to keep pests away, and there’s much more flowers where that came from - all of which look happy and content if their blooms are anything to go by. Whoever planned the garden, took convenience into account as well. An array of herbs grow right behind the decorative arch to the entrance of the garden. Just in case anyone just needs to grab a quick little something for a recipe.

Stars, you’d love to trade your apartment windowsill, grown out of an old milk jug, herbs for a lovely stroll to this garden. Who wouldn’t?

It also has a line of fruit trees lining the north side of the garden, likely so as not to block the sunshine. Whether those were here when they purchased the land and they planned the garden around it, or not, you wouldn’t doubt that whoever planned this garden would have the foresight for that. 

Currently, ripe peaches hang from one tree, and apple blossoms grow on another. Makes you wonder what the other two trees produce, but they must not be in season at the moment with their bareness. 

As if all that wasn’t enough, they also topped off this garden with strewn lights, stone pathways, and goofy gnomes.

A garden like this looks like a full time job, yet you’ve never seen who tends to it. You’ve seen some of the household members pick from it, but never who makes sure the weeds stay away, or who manages the more sensitive plants.

You wonder who it is.

“Hey, didn’t ya hear?” A voice calls you from your thoughts. You pry your gaze away from the garden and meet your coworker’s gaze. “It’s quittin’ time.”

“Yeah, I heard.” You confirm, slipping your gloves off. Not that those gloves protect your hands from the rough calluses littering your palms, but they do help them feel less sore at the end of the day. “The boss wants me to meet with those skeletons to go over the next step.” You thank whatever is up there that you actually have an excuse for your daydreaming this time.

“Right, I forgot that you’re a bigwig supervisor now.” He teases. You roll your eyes, that title hardly means anything yet. “Well, we’re all meetin’ at Al’s for drinks, if ya wanna join later.”

You would rather not.

“We’ll see, thanks Ron.” You neither accept nor decline. He gives somewhat of a salute before slipping away with the rest of the bunch.

Slipping your hardhat off, you await the arrival of your boss, scrolling on your phone in the meantime. It’s not long until you hear the rumble of his truck pulling up, and you quickly pocket the device in your hands. 

Out hops Ted, clipboard in hand and that aggravating smile on his face.

He’s nice enough, but something about him has always felt a little fake. However, playing nice with the boss was what got you this promotion, so you’re not about to jeopardize that now. Waving you over, he greets the skeleton brothers who approach him rather quickly. Must have been waiting just like you. Eager wouldn’t begin to explain how much they want this project to move along.

You catch the tail end of greetings, shaking both Sans and Papyrus’ hands as you’re formally introduced (though, you’ve already had multiple conversations with them while working). Your boss cracks some jokes that you half laugh along to, before he finally gets down to business. Listening intently, and chiming in when necessary, you learn what you already knew. Plumbing, HVAC, electrical, etc. needs to happen before you and your team can continue. It’ll be contracted out, yadda yadda yadda.

Just as you’re beginning to think you have no reason to be a part of this conversation, it’s… over. Yeah that was a waste of a half hour, though you suppose you may be giving clients this talk at some point so it’s likely important to hear.

Ted wraps things up, shakes their hands again, and takes his leave. Sans slips away after that, claiming that he has something that he needs to get back to. You almost follow and take your leave as well, but Papyrus, who’s always been more social, gets you pausing.

“WELL, HUMAN, I SUPPOSE WE WON’T BE SEEING YOU FOR A LITTLE BIT.” He says. You’ve long since gotten used to his loud voice. You smile.

“Gonna miss me that bad?” You tease. Oddly enough, a light flush of orange rises to his cheekbones. Interesting

“W-Well… I ALWAYS ENJOY OUR TALKS WHEN I BRING OUT WATER.” He blurts. Ah, yes, the water. Ultimately unneeded, but very much appreciated.

“It’ll be a few weeks, at most.” You remind him. He beams at that.

“YES, I SUPPOSE YOU’RE RIGHT.” He agrees. It warms your heart that he seems to care even that much. It’s not often homeowners even talk to you and your crew, let alone be as kind as Papyrus has been. “WELL, YOU’VE HAD A LONG DAY, I WON’T KEEP YOU.”

You check your watch and wince.

“Yeahhh… I still got to run to the store to get some tomatoes for this recipe I’m making, so I should-”

“WE HAVE TOMATOES!” Papyrus all but blurts. You blink up at him. That orange flush is back.

Huh.

“We U-Uh… WE HAVE THAT GARDEN, I’M SURE YOU’VE SEEN IT!” You tilt your head at his words, not wanting to assume where he’s going with this - he is a client after all. “WE HAVE PLENTY, YOU SHOULD PICK SOME AND SAVE YOURSELF A TRIP.”

At any other jobsite, you’d have quickly refused… but something about his hopeful smile and genuinity of the offer has you softening like butter. Plus… you’d get to see that beautiful garden up close.

“You sure? I don’t want to overstep…”

“POSITIVE! I THINK BEAR IS IN THE GARDEN RIGHT NOW, HE COULD SHOW YOU WHERE THEY’RE PLANTED!” 

“Bear?” You ask, wracking your brain for which skeleton he’s referring to. You haven’t been introduced to many of them.

“YOU HAVEN’T MET HIM.” Papyrus says with absolute certainty. “HE AVOIDS TENDING TO IT WHEN YOU GUYS ARE HERE WORKING.”

Oh.

“Well, are you sure he’ll want me wandering in there, then?”

“OH, I’M SURE HE’LL BE ALRIGHT WITH IT, HE JUST… HAS TROUBLE SOCIALLY. HE’S NICE, THOUGH.”

You hesitate. This Bear obviously enjoys gardening in the peace and quiet, who are you to interrupt that? However… it’s nearing 7pm and you’re ravenous. A trip to the store sounds like torture. 

As if sensing your dilemma, Papyrus pivots, placing a hand on your shoulder and urges you back around the house. “I’LL GO WITH YOU, TO ASSURE YOU ALL IS WELL.” You just nod and follow along, both because it feels like nothing you do will change his mind, and because of your selfish desire to just get done with this day sooner.

Your workboots sink into the plush clover lawn as you both make your way across the backyard to the garden. Your eyes are captured once again, by said garden, and you almost don’t notice the rather large skeleton tending to the flowerbeds in towards the front until Papyrus speaks from across the short fencing.

“BEAR, IS IT ALRIGHT IF MY FRIEND HERE PICKS SOME TOMATOES?”

You look to where Papyrus is speaking, and the first thing you see is the gaping hole in this skeleton’s head.

Holyfuckisheokay?? How-

You look to Papyrus in concern, but see him just… smiling down at you? Confused, you look back to this skeleton, crouched behind a garden bed and lock eyes (eye?) with the bloated, bright red eye-light filling the socket that isn’t scarred from his head wound. You… can’t tell what he’s thinking, with that blank expression of his.

But seeing as this is apparently normal for him, you’re now worried you’ve offended the guy.

Maybe magic helps monsters survive the seemingly unsurvivable? It’s not like he has any internal organs in his skull… maybe that’s why-

You’re pulled from your thoughts as this apparent behemoth stands up.

Oh.

Oh my.

You’re beginning to understand why he���s called ‘Bear’. He’s certainly a bear in every sense of the word. Large, imposing, intimidating… and did you mention huge?? Now, you aren’t small. You’ve kept up in construction for almost a decade now and it shows… but you still feel like a twig, craning your neck to look up at him.

However, the dirt covered overalls he’s wearing, definitely takes away from some of his initial intimidating demeanor.

“... sure.” He rumbles, blank expression still giving no clue to where his mind is.

Holy fucking baritone-

Papyrus pats you on the back and beams at Bear.

“THANK YOU! I’M GOING TO START ON DINNER, OKAY?” You numbly nod, trying to force your thoughts away from where they want to go. “SEE YOU IN A FEW WEEKS, HUMAN!” Tearing your eyes away from Bear, you wave back to Papyrus and watch him retreat into the home. You wait until he’s inside to take in what you hope is a subtle deep breath.

You about leap into the air, when you turn around and find Bear right behind you, at the entrance of the garden. Clutching your chest, you remind yourself to relax. How’d he get there? And so quietly, too…

And you swear you see this giant quirk the smallest of smiles at your jumpiness. 

He thinks he’s funny, huh? Asshole.

You stare up at him, flushing and definitely not pouting. “Ah, uh, thanks for letting me steal some tomatoes, you’re saving me a trip to the store.” You decide to be polite. After all, you were the one to gawk first, perhaps you deserved a bit of payback.

He just grunts.

And you both just… stand there. After a few moments of silence, you speak up.

“So… where are they?” You inquire, glancing around at what you can see of the garden, but it’s hard when you have a seven foot wall of solid skele-man right in front of you. 

“where are… what?” He asks.

You tilt your head. He just said…

“The tomatoes?” You try, maybe he spaced out when Papyrus asked him if it was okay… and when you just mentioned them a second ago?

He seems to recall something, if the twitch of his bone brows are to say much. Nodding, he turns and lumbers through the rows of flowerbeds. Assuming that’s an invitation for you to follow, you rush to fall into step behind him and his large strides… but, you quickly fall behind as you start to admire the garden’s beauty up close. Your steps slow as you stroll past the growing cauliflower plants. These can be incredibly hard to grow… how did he…?

You gingerly touch one of the leaves, and look up to Bear, who’s stopped and turned to look at what’s keeping you.

“How do you get these to grow so well?” You ask, smiling excitedly at him. He blinks, large shoulders relaxing a bit, as if he was expecting you to ask something else.

He reaches into his overall pocket, and slips out what looks like a very well-loved notebook. You watch curiously, but patiently as he opens it and flips through it. You’re unsure what the notebook has to do with his answer but you’re willing to wait and find out.

He pauses on a page and looks back to you, seeming to ponder something before deciding ‘fuck it’, as he approaches you and hands the book to you. It’s got various dirt stains, and some pages have been taped back in where they’ve come loose, so you treat it with care as you take it from his grasp. And there, on the page you see notes in small, neat handwriting. Research notes, with drawings and everything. The topic being the little cauliflower plant you’re standing next to.

Some of it seems to just be information taken from the internet and put in short form, while others seems to be from actual trial and error. You skim his writing, noticing that he’s scratched some things out but towards the end, he seems to have figured out the perfect schedule for the plant to thrive.

You’re tempted to flip through the book and read more, but you refrain. That seems like an invasion of privacy.

“Wow, that’s really cool that you go as far to take all these notes. You must really enjoy this, huh?” You ask, handing it back to him. He stares at it in his hands for a moment, before putting it back in his pocket.

He just nods.

“Not much of a talker?” You tease lightheartedly, trying to see if you can get any sort of… anything out of this guy other than blank staring and slightly intimidating silence.

He shrugs, and turns back around, leading you again.

But you’re not done.

“You’ve really built something beautiful here, ya know?” You continue. He just keeps walking. “This is amazing! It could almost be considered a small farm! Though, I guess with all your housemates to feed, it’s just a garden, huh?”

Still no answer, but you swear he starts walking a little faster if the way you have to almost jog to keep up is anything to go by.

“The flowers too? Man, this must be a full time job that, I’ll be honest, I’m a little jealous of! I’d be in here all day if I was able to! This is absolutely gorgeous, Bear! Do you take care of this all by yourself? You really have a talent, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly Bear stops, leaving you to walk right into his back… which given his height means you faceplant right into his spine. He barely budges, yet the force of it knocks you on your butt. You grunt and rub at your smarting nose. Damn, this dude is solid.

His red light stares down at you, from the corner of his good socket. He doesn’t apologize, or offer you a hand, just simply points to the tomato plant in front of him.

“... tomato.” He mutters, then takes his leave, stepping over your sprawled legs and heading back to the flower bed he was working on.

… huh, you could’ve sworn, you saw the faintest hints of blue on his cheekbones.

Chuckling to yourself, and once again, thinking that these skeletons are silly, you pick yourself up and dust off your pants. Not that. You really need to dust off your already dirty work clothes, but it feels right.

You lean over the tomato plants in question, finding quite a little variety in the garden bed. Roma, cherry, black krim, campari - and those are just the ones you can name. Dinner in this house must be full of all the most delicious, fresh produce.

Once again, you’re a little jealous.

You pick a few ripe and tasty looking romas, and call it good. While you’d love to experiment with some of the others, this was a kind offer from a friend and given to you by an acquaintance, you’re not about to take advantage of either of them. Holding your goods protectively to you, you wander back to the entrance of the garden, where Bear is once again knelt in front of one of the flowerbeds, tugging at some stubborn looking weeds.

He glances at you as you approach him. You hold up your three tomatoes and grin at him. “Thank you for these, you saved me a trip to the store!” A nod is all you get. “And… speaking of the store, I feel bad just taking these, I have cash?”

That gets him to fully turn his skull to look at you, and you take that as a yes.

“This is about a pound, I’d say, so how about I just give you an even $5?” You offer. Yet again, he just stares. 

“... I mean I can look up how much it is at the store or you can give me a price too, if you’d rather…” You ramble, feeling a little awkward under that stare of his. You just met the guy today, and he’s proving to be extremely hard to read.

You’re about to just reach into your pocket and pull out a $10 (way too much, but you’d pay anything to get out of this awkward silence), when your stomach growls rather loudly. His stare moves to your belly.

“Ah, uh, yeah it’s dinner time, huh?” You try to joke it off. His light flits back to your face, and finally, he just waves you off.

“... You don’t want money?” You ask tentatively. He shakes his head.

“... go home.” He rumbles, yet his tone isn’t rude, “go eat.” He adds. Your shoulders release tension you didn’t even quite realize was there and the awkwardness finally fading, and you offer him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day. I really appreciate it.”

He hums.

“... and I hope you know you don’t have to wait until our team leaves to tend to your garden. This is your home, we’re just working here.”

He raises a skele-brow at your words, looking unimpressed as he gestures to the sizable hole in his skull. You hold back a wince as you remember your reaction. You know the guys you work with, and you also know that your reaction is probably going to be the most tame one he gets.

“Right… I uh, I’m really sorry for how I reacted, I thought it was a recent injury and I was worried you needed an ambulance or something cause humans can’t survive something like that, but that was really insensitive.” You murmur. His stare seems to slightly soften at that, but you barely notice that as an idea pops in your brain. Instantly, you brighten. “Wait here! I’ve got an idea, I will be right back!”

And with that, you start a careful jog to your old, beat up truck - not wanting to drop your precious produce. Once there, you deposit your small bounty into your upside down hardhat to keep them from rolling around, and then pop open your rather dirt-covered glove department. You’ve never really found the point in cleaning your truck that often when you just dirty it everyday after work. Digging through the mess of papers there, your hands find that knit fabric they were looking for.

“Ah hah!” You exclaim excitedly, closing your vehicle’s door and rushing back around the house to the garden that you left Bear at. He’s since moved on to a different flowerbed, but no amount of kneeling would hide that big frame of his and he’s rather easy to spot because of it.

Hearing the crunches on your loud footsteps in the gravel, he turns, seeming a little surprised that you actually came back.

You hold up the beanie in your hand, grinning at him as you let him connect the dots, it was one of your first crochet projects… and you misread the amount of links you’d need for it, resulting in a beanie that was ridiculously large for your head. You had meant to toss it or take it apart for the yarn, but it found its way into your glove department, and that’s where it’s stayed for almost a year. 

However, it seems to be the perfect size for this skeleton giant in front of you.

“Wanna see if it fits?” You ask, stepping closer. In your excitement, you don’t connect the dots that his skull might be a no-touching zone, and reach to slip it on. He quickly leans away from you, eyeing the beanie warily.

“Oh, right. Sorry, here.” You hold it out in an offer. He hesitantly takes it, staring at it for a long moment before glancing up to you. “It’ll stretch, if you’re worried about it catching those edges.” You assure him, not sure how sensitive the area around his injury is, but figuring it’s better safe than sorry.

After a few more moments of silence (that are beginning to feel a little less awkward), he slowly and carefully slips the beanie on his skull. He makes sure to stretch it and hold it a little ways away on his injured side of his skull, and soon it’s sitting nicely on his head.

A perfect fit.

“There! Now it’s hidden!” You say. He tilts his head. “I know it’s not fair that you can’t just waltz out here in broad daylight while we’re here without worrying about feeling judged, but it’s also not fair to have to hole yourself inside and wait until we leave to do your thing. I mean, it’s almost dark and you’ve got a lot more to do, and these string lights only illuminate so much.” You explain.

He nods, slipping it off and moving to hand it back to you, as if he’s not aware it’s a gift.

“Keep it, think of this as a trade for the yummy tomatoes! Plus, I think you look cute in it.” You say, smiling again as you see the slight blue return to his face. “If you decide you don’t like it, feel free to do whatever you’d like with it, it’s not like it’ll fit my head anyways.” You say with a little laugh.

A low rumbling noise escapes Bear. You tilt your head, and it doesn’t click until you see the smile on his face and his shoulders bouncing slightly. He’s chuckling at you.

You ignore the growing warmth on your face at hearing more of that very attractive voice of his, and let out a few little giggles of your own, closing your eyes as you do.

So, you’re none the wiser when Bear slips the beanie off of his head and moves closer to you in that silent way he does. It’s not until he plops the article onto you that you sputter and open your eyes, only to be met with your lashes brushing against the yarn and your vision being hindered by the way the beanie practically reaches the bottom of your nose. Reaching up, you lift it up and find Bear grinning at you.

“... no, it doesn’t… does it?”

He’s making fun of you. Again.

Jokingly pouting, you slip it off and toss it back at him, where it bounces off his chest harmlessly and falls into his lap. He guffaws at that, his little chuckles turning into a deep belly laughter. 

It’s infectious, and soon, you’re joining in again.

It’s not until your stomach makes your hunger loudly well known again, that he sobers, looking serious once again.

“... you need… to eat.” He reminds you.

You smile sheepishly, and try not to be too disappointed at having to leave. You were just getting him outta his shell a bit!

“Yeah, I do. Your dinner will be ready soon, too, I bet.” You say, shifting your weight on your feet as you stall just a moment longer. “I uh, hope to see more of you.”

He just stares again, but there’s a sharpness missing in his light.

“Goodnight, Bear.” You say, pivoting to take your leave. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you just assume he won’t, given what you’ve learned about him today.

But as you start to walk back to your truck, you hear a quiet, “goodnight.” from Bear. You smile again, turning to give him a little wave that you don’t see if he returns as you round the corner of the house.

[gabessquishytum]

The year is 1889. Hob Gadling is a realtor in London who because of the death of his wife has drunk himself into a small amount of debt. One day a letter held closed by a wax seal picturing a raven in flight.

The letter explains that a Transylvanian Count named Dream is hoping to purchase Hobs most expensive estate for double the price. The only caveat is that Hob will have to make the journey to the Count’s castle to help him with the paperwork. While the Count gives many good reasons why he himself can’t come to London or simply have Hob mail the documents to him, Hobs gut reaction is to simply burn the parchment and carry on with his day. But the fare has already been paid for by his potential client and his coffers are nearly empty. So off he heads for the back country of Transylvania.

After a montage of travel shenanigans including: meeting an American cowboy named Ollie (who absolutely blows his back out), the inn keepers wife giving him a rosary, and a blond carriage driver with darkened glasses who seems quite comfortable with the pack of wolves that run along side the buggy, he finds himself stepping into the gloomy castle.

And on the steps of the grand staircase holding a tarnished candelabra stands a willowy figure, dressed in fine black clothing covering skin as white as a pearl, staring at him with eyes the same shade as the ruby jewel hanging around his neck.

The regal man speaks after a moment “I am Dream.”

“Oh” breathes Hob taking off his hat, his gazing transfixed on the ethereal creature before him “It- it’s really good to see you.”

“I bid you welcome.”

A sexually tense week later finds them sat in the parlor celebrating with cigars and wine for completing the paperwork, Hob begins to tell the Count his life’s story, why he became a realtor after being a soldier in the queens army, and how after the death of his entire family and then his wife his greatest wish was that he never had to die.

Suddenly Dream leans in close, lips mere inches away from Hobs own. “What if I told you I could grant you that wish?” Dreams nails begin to trace along the veins in Hobs neck “All ask is for you to stay by my side, fear me, love me, obey me, and I will be your slave.”

Enraptured by Dreams eyes Hob can do little else but nod. The next thing he knows Dream is biting into his neck, yet somehow with every mouthful of blood Dream takes from him he feels more and more pleasure consuming him. Just as he is about to die from blood loss Dream slices the palm of his hand and allows the black blood to trickle into Hobs mouth. That night, they consummate their unholy matrimony both covered in blood with Hob tied to the bedposts being made to come on Dreams cock over and over and over again.

Hob returns to London, having left a barely middle class man he now attends parties only available for the highest of society, dressed in full silk and satin white dress, arm and arm with a handsome gothic benefactor.

No one dares to question the litter of bite marks and scars that cover Hobs neck and shoulders after seeing how sharp the Counts teeth are. Anyone who tries shame or insult Hob about his choice in fashion are found dead in some dirty alleyway the next morning. And the one man who dared to try and flirt with Hob was found strung across London bridge with the words mine carved into his chest.

Dream couldn’t stop fucking Hob to reinstate his claim for a whole two nights after that incident, filling Hob with his seed and shoving a crystal plug in to make sure none of it could leak out during the opera they are to attend.

Hob is just happy to have found his calling as Dreams eternally devoted and throughly fucked spouse.

-☘️

I gotta say, I ADORE the way you've written this! Who doesn't love a Dracula AU! I love how you've stuck close to the book, it really does work!

I love the image of Hob is his beautiful white dress, enjoying the fanciest parties. Wearing long white gloves and glittering with diamonds. He never lets go of Dream’s arm for a minute, and Dream really does take care of him with the most devoted care.

At one of those parties, they happen to come across Ollie - no longer in his cowboy gear but dressed in his finest and making his way as a society artist. Although Dream usually hates it when any man pays Hob an ounce of attention, he seems quite taken with Ollie's southern charms. He even asks Ollie to paint him and Hob as a celebration of their anniversary.

It's the first time Dream allows anyone to get involved in the action of their bedchamber. Turns out, Ollie isn't quite as human as he might appear (if vampires exist, Hob realises, it only makes sense that there are other creatures of the night. I'm imagining Ollie as a werewolf, but he could be something else). He watches in rapture as Dream feeds Hob on blood and cum, fucking him so hard that Hob’s legs tremble when he tries to stand up afterwards. Ollie gets a chance to eat him out and lick the cool, delicious seed from inside Hob’s raw, sloppy hole.

But in the end, it's Dream who owns Hob’s newly immortal heart. They live in debauched luxury, feeding mainly from the criminals that lurk in the shadows of London. Hob likes to think that he's keeping the streets clean and doing the locals a favour. Dream frankly doesn't care - as long as Hob is his, nothing else matters.

[requiem4adrm]

Hey! I'm not sure of your rules, so pls disregard this if it goes against what you write, but could you write both Leon and Luis (separately) comforting a reader who used to self harm? Again, I completely understand if you're against writing that. Have a lovely day!

I hope your day was lovely as well! Thank you for this request, and I hope it meets your expectations!

WARNING: This post involves mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts so if you are sensitive to this DO NOT READ!

Leon Kennedy + Luis Serra x f! reader (past self-harm)

Leon:

You had been going out with Leon for a couple months now. He was basically the man of your dreams. Although you had spent such a long time together, you had never wanted to have sex or even show a lot of skin to him. He didn't mind this, he knew that when you were ready you would share these things with them, and never pressured you into anything.

Eventually, you finally caved and decided to try and be comfortable around him. You had invited him over and had decided to wear a short sleeve shirt and some pj shorts. You were feeling confident and courageous for deciding to trust him with this.

This was until you caught a glimpse in the mirror and saw all the faded scars that littered your skin. Your cheeks turned red and tears welled up in your eyes from the shame and embarrassment you felt.

"How could anyone love someone as messed up as this?" You thought to yourself.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you just stared at the broken skin, so distracted that you didn't hear Leon announce his presence.

He found you standing in front of the mirror crying, his eyes softening at the sight of your skin and the tears rolling down your face.

"Baby? What's wrong?", he said as he walked over to you.

"Go away Leon, you shouldn't see me like this." You sobbed to him.

"I'm not going anywhere, pretty girl, until I know what's got you so upset."

You turned to him and looked him in the eyes. His face was full of worry and concern, which only made you feel worse.

"This was supposed to be a good thing for me, Leon. I wanted to try and be more comfortable around you because even though you've told me not to rush anything, I wanted to prove to myself that I could stop covering up around you," You paused to catch your breath.

"But as soon as I saw myself it was like all the horrible thoughts came back to me. I was so close Leon. I feel so ugly, and ashamed, and-and I don't know what to do anymore." You wiped at your eyes to stop the tears but they just kept pouring the more you talked.

Leon was quiet as you spoke. Sadness casting over him at the sight of you sobbing your heart out.

"Can I hold you, pretty girl?" He asked gently. You shook your head yes and scrambled into his arms, where he wrapped you tight and rocked you back and forth.

"I want you to listen to me, baby, ok?" You nodded your head into his chest in reply.

"I want you to know how proud I am of you for trying for me. You are the bravest, most beautiful person I have ever met. I want you to know that I love every single piece of you, including the broken ones, and that my love will never change." You sniffled softly into his chest.

He gently grabbed your wrist and brought it to his face, giving each scar a feather-light kiss.

"I want you to know that your scars don't define you, that they just prove that you survived the darkest time in your life. Look at me, baby." You brought your eyes to his face.

He let go of you and began lifting up his shirt, showing you his torso littered with scars from countless missions and near-death encounters.

"Our scars tell a story. Different stories, but they both have the same ending; we won and survived. They show that we are strong and brave. I hope you believe me, and if you still aren't ready I'm not going to push you to do this for me. I love you either way." With that, he left a soft kiss on your forehead and wrapped his arms around you again.

You just couldn't understand how you found the most kind-hearted, beautiful soul to ever exist, and how he chose to give you his love.

"I love you so much, Leon." You whispered to him, feeling his arms go tighter around you in response. You both spent the rest of the night holding each other, finally at peace and basking in each other's love.

Luis:

You had been home with Luis when you decided to take a shower. He was taking a nap on the couch so you figured it would be the perfect time to wash up. You washed quickly, not wanting to wake him. 10 minutes later, you were stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel. You made your way to his bedroom and began to dry off. You had just finished putting on your bra when the bedroom door swung upon.

You froze at the sound, eyes locked onto the doorway where Luis stood, mouth agape and eyes wide.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't know you were in here!" He stuttered out.

Your heart began to race, your mind going a million miles an hour. You had wanted to show him your scars on your own terms, but now your secret was out forever. Your eyes watered slightly as you began to sniffle.

Luis noticed the change immediately and went from embarrassed to concerned in a second.

"Cariña, please don't cry. Come here." He grabbed the throw blanket from off the bed and wrapped you in it to help cover you up. You sank into his warm arms almost instantaneously; your anxiety lessening in his embrace.

"I've known the whole time, mi amor." He spoke softly.

"W-what? How-"

"When you sleep you tend to remove your clothes if you're too hot..."

You two sat in silence when all of a sudden you began to giggle. Luis followed suit and began to chuckle until the both of you were laughing.

"I can't believe this... I thought you never knew, and I was waiting to show you." You looked into his eyes as he smiled and brushed your hair behind your ear.

"I didn't want to tell you I found out, because I knew you would come to me when you were ready."

Your eyes watered again at what he told you. You couldn't possibly understand how there was anyone as kind and beautiful as Luis.

"I wanted to show you so bad, but I was so afraid you'd be disgusted with me." Luis's arms wrapped tighter around you at the thought of you being afraid to show him your deepest secret.

"I could never be disgusted with you, mi amor. To me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. How could I ever be disgusted with the one thing I love most in this world?" He placed his palm on your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently on your face.

Tears slowly made their way down your face; you were so overjoyed, and feeling so loved by him that you didn't know what to do.

"I love you so much, Luis Serra. I don't think I'll ever feel as much love for another person as I do for you."

With that, he smiled and laid his forehead against yours, the both of you closing your eyes and just enjoying the moment. That night was the night you knew Luis Serra would be your husband for the rest of your life.

---

Hey yall! Hope you enjoyed this. I kinda took two different approaches to it and I wish I could've done better but I kinda ran out of steam when writing about Luis lol. I felt like I just rushed it a bit but oh well. Anyways, you guys have an amazing night/day whateva, and if u have a request plz submit it. I love seeing requests :3