#i wouldn’t be surprised if the darkness had pressured him into doing it

[mothmanwarble]

anyone else lie awake at night wondering if wilikin village or the wilikin workshop got torn apart by the sky eater during the events of superchargers or……..

[amaranthineghost]

THE MIGHTY HAS FALLEN (BUT YOU'LL RISE AGAIN, LOVE) ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

after a tough race cut short, max pushes away any person around him, but not her. never her. she always picks up the pieces to put him back together.

authors note: I love max. I know he's not the self-deprecating typa guy, but in this, he is, OKAY. charles is after this <333

HE WAS A BOMB. the fuse getting shorter and shorter every minute that his patience was tested. everything around him seemed to irritate him more and more as he tried to keep himself from exploding, for pr's sake.

he just wanted to avoid the media all together, for obvious reasons, but he was contractually obligated to give his words to the journalists under the media tent. putting him under a microscope and asking questions that had an undertone of scrutiny in hopes of catching him break. he was close, but he wouldn’t.

it hadn’t even been a fault of his own, he rarely made those anymore. the car had caught fire, but not due to a mistake he had made, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have admitted it anyways. still he felt the guilt of his lack of performance, beating himself up after every question asked about his car and what had happened.

it was just stupid. the questions were stupid. the car was stupid. this whole race was stupid.

the pressure to perform, even in the best car on the grid, was high. despite his seat being secured for plenty of years to come, he still had expectations to meet and records to break.

it was obvious to everyone that max was hard on himself every time he didn't perform his best, his girlfriend especially noticing when she’d find him in his very luxurious driver's room sulking at even the slightest of a mistake made by him.

it didn't happen often, but when it did, she'd been there for him. he knew that.

he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be seen again because world champions don't make stupid mistakes.

even if this hadn't been a mistake he made, he should've known. even if there was no possible way he could’ve, he should've.

he was raised to believe that he was only deserving if he had been first, that he was destined to fail after every second place or worse finish.

so it wasn't surprising when he thought he didn't deserve her. in comparison, or more like his eyes, she was simply perfect.

and she understood him, which not many people could because he wouldn't let anyone pick apart his brain like she did.

he locked his thoughts and feelings in the dark that shrouded his mind from early childhood trauma. he promised he would never let anyone see.

but he was never great at keeping such promises because it hadn't taken much for her to pick the lock to his brain. even though he wasn't ready to spill every detail of his upbringing to her, he trusted her.

and he didn't get to do that all too often.

the media had been brutal—he knew they would be—and yet it still crushed his mentality and faith in himself.

with his race suit around his waist despite having time to change beforehand, he walked through the paddock in shame at the early retirement.

it wasn't like this determined the outcome of his career because the next race, he'd be back on top. he didn't feel so sure of it though because all his thoughts were on this failure. what if he failed the next race?

what if he failed the whole season? what if he fails her?

unlikely, the people know, but he had so much confidence which had so easily crumbled when it got a little too hot. he wasn't sure of himself anymore.

anyone could see the turmoil bubbling underneath his skin, harsh waves crashing in the ocean of his blue eyes as he pushed past anyone and everyone.

the walk through the paddock was short, considering the red bull motorhome was the first of ten. max hastily entered through the automatic doors, skipping steps as he was eager to hide out in his driver's room.

he felt the eyes of the staff follow him down the hall until he disappeared quickly around the corner. he didn't want to be seen by anyone.

the door to his driver's room closed as fast as it was opened, but much louder. she heard the slam of the door echo down the hallway.

she didn't flinch, she just calmly greeted staff with smiles and left a bag of sweets on the table for them. she always brought something for the team, to celebrate every victory and despite this not being one, they still deserved it for working hard.

since she had gotten there not too long after him, she lingered around the lobby. she didn't want to be waiting around for him to show up and have him brush her off because he wasn't in the right headspace.

he would never mean to dismiss her, and she knew to give him at least a little time to himself to think and process things. she couldn't give him too much time though because she didn't want his self-deprecating thoughts to eat away at his confidence.

from what she analyzed from the staff and their demeanor, he'd probably caught them off guard when he slammed his door.

she wouldn't apologize for his behavior because she would make him do it when he cooled down.

so she hung around and made small talk with the sparse staff around to allow max a few minutes to himself before excusing herself down the hall.

she had a bomb to defuse after all.

the clack of her heels on the hard floors bounced off the walls, but she walked quietly enough so max didn't hear her coming. he knew she would though. he knew she would find him with his head in his hands, barely covered in sweat because he didn't race for more than three laps.

his face was still flush with disappointment though. he didn't want her to see him like this even though she was with him during his last disappointing race, but even though his singaporean grand prix finish wasn't great, at least he hadn't been out of the race.

max hadn't DNF’d in two years because he was simply just that good, and he still is. he just didn't feel like it.

his hands pressed so hard against his eyes, the blood vessels in them would have popped if he pushed any harder. he had taken off his red bull hat, he felt he didn't deserve the number one right now. it was thrown lazily onto the makeshift bed in his driver's room.

the room was practically silent, every so often interrupted by a deep sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. he had sat there for a good couple or minutes, sulking.

when she reached his door, she held the bouquet of flowers she always got for him close to her body with one arm while she raised the other to knock. her hand only slightly hesitated before her fist made contact with the door and a few seconds later, she tried entering. it was locked, which was usual whenever he was brooding.

at first, when max heard the knock, he thought of all the people last on his list that he would want to see right now, but on the bottom of the list was the person he wanted to avoid the most right now.

his dad.

their relationship was rocky. he never supported max at any place unless it was on the very top of the podium, and even then max thought he looked unpleasant.

“go away,” was all max could mutter through his hands as his heart started to pick up the pace.

she sighed, shaking her head with a smile pulling at her lips, “max.” it was all she needed to say.

part of him didn't want to let her in, he didn't want her to see him like this, but he knew she was just as stubborn as him, if not more. he knew she would stand there all day if he didn't open the door to let her in.

and he would always let her in.

she heard the low creak of the sofa she could imagine him sitting on, but not his footsteps while he made his way to the door. she only knew he heard her when the lock clicked and the door slowly opened inwards to reveal the red-faced max verstappen.

she stood staring at him, her head tilted as she studied his face. he didn't move, he just watched her eyes dart around his appearance, and he felt himself getting hot under his fireproofs.

“are you going to let me in, verstappen?” she teased, a sly smile on her lips as she watched her boyfriend roll his eyes.

he scoffed, stepping aside, “don't call me that.”

“what?” she acted innocent, stepping into his driver's room with the fresh flowers, seeing the already prepped vase, “don't call you by your name?”

“you know what I mean.” though he tried to keep a straight face and act like he was still mad, he couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. she just had that effect.

she heard the door close and lock again as she took the wrapping off and placed the flowers in the vase. she shrugged at his words, her back still towards him, but she knew he had sat back down.

“you didn't have to get those,” he mumbled, “didn't win.”

she sighed, crumbling the wrapping in her hand and throwing it away before walking to where he sat. she stood in front of him as he looked up at her.

even with heels, he was still much taller than her and even though he was sitting, he reached barely below her chin.

she spread her arms to offer a hug to him, which he gratefully took, his arms snaking around the low of her hips. pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head, running her fingers through his hair.

she felt him sigh against her skin, his eyes closing as they stayed like that for minutes without speaking. she felt him caress the bare skin of her thigh with his thumb.

when they finally pulled apart, his hands still laid firmly on her hips, his hair disheveled from the hug. she ran her hands through it to fix it and he only watched as she did so.

when she finally finished after only ten seconds because guy hair is a lot less complicated than women’s hair, he finally spoke up, “why are you dressed so uncomfortably?”

she was slightly taken aback, seeing as he was just moping about his race not even ten minutes ago and now commenting on her appearance. he only assumed she was uncomfortable, but unfortunately his assumption was correct.

“what do you mean?” she looked down at her attire, which isn't so different from the other wags that she hung out with.

his hand snuck around the back of her thigh and pulled up her leg, “I thought I told you to stop wearing heels, you always complain about them.”

“i’m fine,” she said, about to cross her arms, but her balance said otherwise so she settled them on his shoulders for support.

he gave her an incredulous look because every time she wore heels, without fail, she would complain less than an hour into wherever they were that she wanted to sit.

“okay, i admit i can't wait to get these things off,” she let out a deep breath, putting a hand on her hip, “but I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

she said in his response to take the heels off her feet for her, a simple gesture really, but this was about him.

“do you want to talk about it?” she massaged his shoulders as he threw her heels to the other side of the small sofa.

“nothing to talk about,” he shrugged, “maybe I don't deserve being first.”

she pushed his head to look up at her, shaking her head, “you just don't realize how much you deserve, max. you're a world champion, a three-time one,” she reassured him, “you've won countless races, and you still have the entire season ahead of you. I know you want to, but you can't let one bad race define your season.”

“I know, you're right.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought deeply, “but I have to prove myself.”

“you've already done that plenty of times,” she shook his shoulders in emphasis, “besides you'll still lead the championship, unless charles gets p1, but you'll get it right back if that's the case.”

she was right. she always was, he never doubted her. he would never doubt her because she would never lie to him. she always backed up her answers by building up his ego and confidence back up so he was ready to fight it out on the track next race.

whether it took a couple of minutes or hours to bring his mood back up, she'd take her time in making him feel like the champion he was again.

she would take his phone from him, he didn't need to see the articles being written or the missing phone calls from his dad.

all he needed was her and she would always be there.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[gabseyoo]

WASTE OF LIPSTICK — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, established relationship, fluff. word count: 0,7k.

note: soft sakusa is my religion.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had a reputation for being serious, collected, competitive, honest and even a little intimidating— well, too intimidating. 

Many say he’s even scary. 

You couldn’t agree more, indeed, he was all that. Your boyfriend’s reputation doesn’t come from nowhere, right?

But that’s the Kiyoomi that the public knew. The Kiyoomi you knew was nothing like what they thought he was, in fact, he was someone completely different.

Your Kiyoomi was someone kind, funny and even somewhat corny. He was someone who planned the most memorable dates, was always spoiling you, had a picture of you as his wallpaper, wore his promise ring every day, gave you lots of cute petnames and—believe it or not—sent kisses at the end of every phone call when he’s away. 

It’s not like he hid how he acted with his girlfriend, which is why so many of his acquaintances were surprised by how much he softened when it came to you, and honestly, that’s one of the many things you loved about him.

You didn’t know why those kinds of thoughts about your boyfriend’s not-so-hidden sweet side were going through your head right now, maybe it was because if someone when you first met the intimidating Sakusa Kiyoomi had told you that someday he’d be your boyfriend and you’d be here, straddling his lap with him lying in the comfort of your bed and he would have a face full of red lipstick stains that you had spread on his smooth skin, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“This is a waste of lipstick.” 

You chuckled at your boyfriend’s sudden words that broke the comfortable silence. 

“I know.” You pushed aside a strand of hair on his forehead to leave a kiss there and smiled before leaving another on his temple, decorating his skin with new red marks. “But it’s worth it, you look pretty.” 

Kiyoomi smiled.

“Do I?” He placed his hand behind your head, stroking your skin in a soothing manner as he looked lovingly into your eyes, and you swore that at that moment it was as if you fell in love with him all over again for the thousandth time. 

A sincere smile appeared on your lips and you responded with a small mhm as you brought your face close to his until your noses brushed.

“I think you look pretty too.” Kiyoomi whispered before joining your lips in a kiss.

With his hand on the back of your neck he put a little more pressure to deepen the kiss and the other did the same on your lower back, you buried yours in his dark curls. It was romantically slow, you both just enjoyed the feel of each other’s lips. 

It wasn’t until you needed a breath of air that you broke away, but not before giving him a little peck.

You supported yourself on your hands on either side of his head and looked down at your boyfriend, letting out a giggle when you saw that his mouth was completely smeared with red. You thought about commenting on it, but he beat you to it.  

“Your mouth is all messy now.” He gently took you by the chin and his thumb wiped under your lips, you knew that this action had surely smeared the lipstick more instead of cleaning it, but you didn’t mind in the least. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You kissed his finger in reassurance before asking, “Ready for round two, Omi?” 

“I’m all yours, baby.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head to make himself comfortable on your pillow. 

“I like that.” You sat up straight again on his lap and picked up the red lipstick you had left on your nightstand. 

Kiyoomi watched with a smitten smile how you applied more lipstick on your lips, getting ready for another round of kisses that he was more than willing to receive.

“You still think this is a waste of lipstick?” You questioned as you leaned in to leave a kiss on his jaw 

“Maybe.”

You gasped dramatically and Kiyoomi let out a chuckle. 

“But I always can buy you more, you know.” He added and took your hand in his to leave a kiss on your knuckles. “As long as you waste it on me.” 

[distantdarlings]

SUPPORT SYSTEM // Slytherin Boys

RATING: PG-13 / 2.2K WORDS

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When a few Gryffindors start spreading rumors that the Slytherin boys only hang around you because they’re sharing you, you’re hesitant to share this information with them. (Slight Angst, Comedy?)

+ WARNINGS - Language, some sexual discussion (very small amount), bullying, secrets, implied fight, not proof-read (lmk if I’ve missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Sarah - Alex G

- - -

As soon as your eyes opened that morning, you found yourself regretting even waking up. The memories of yesterday were flooding back and hitting you like a giant tidal wave, so visceral you could almost taste the salted water.

You ran a hand over your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, and dreading the day. Despite the superior support system you had holding you up, you found yourself in a dilemma. The wonderful people you called your closest friends were what was plaguing you.

With each inhale, a flash of one of their faces would zip in front of you, deepening the nausea building in your stomach. You sigh. You couldn’t miss anymore classes, but you felt as though leaving your bed would surely breed a recipe for disaster.

Between the relentless teasing, the names you’d been called, and everything else that had been going on this week, you felt close to giving up. The only thing that had kept you powered in even the slightest way were your friends.

A knock interrupted your thoughts. A few teasing laughs broke through the thick wooden door as you swallowed the misery rising up your throat. It wouldn’t surprise you if your harrassers had decided to come knocking at your door, bringing their sneers and cruel words with them. You perked up your voice to tell the usurpers to go away when you heard a familiar shout.

The voice was lowered and joking, letting your name fall from his mouth like it was an everyday thing—which it was. You jumped up and tossed the comforter away from your body. You across the cold dorm floor and flung the heavy wooden door open.

On the other side stood three dark boys, all with varying smiles and warm eyes. Hot relief flooded your body as you let yourself fall into them.

Theo Nott stood dead center and caught your flailed body like a Quaffle. You wrapped your arms tightly around his lean body, missing the way he felt and the way he smelled. You could’ve melted into his body and lived there for the rest of your days if necessary.

To his right was Enzo Berkshire, the devilishly handsome and wickedly funny boy you called one of your best friends. He laughed aloud and tossed an arm around you as well, squeezing you between their bodies. You groaned slightly and the pressure. You turned your head.

“Come on, Matty, don’t you want to join us?” you mumbled, your cheeks squished between the two boys on either side of you.

The last boy stood back a bit, watching you amusedly. Mattheo Riddle chuckled a bit before placing a large hand over your head and mussing your hair a bit.

“I’m good, kid, but I’m grateful you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice genuine. You’d always hated when he called you ‘kid,’ as he was only a few months older than you. But, right now, you were more than happy to hear him say it.

With laughing exclamations, they all asked what you were doing and how you’ve been and if you felt any better. Amongst the constant picking you were getting from some of your classmates, you’d taken a couple days away from class and the boys because you were ‘sick.’ With white lies peppered in here and there, you explained that you were feeling much better now that they were here and that you were pretty sure you’d had some kind of stomach bug. It wasn’t totally a lie as you’d felt nauseated all weekend thinking about going back to class.

“Ready to go back to class?” Enzo asked, finally pulling away from you and allowing you a breath. Your stomach twisted at his words.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. “I guess I am.” Theo and Enzo smiled in response, but Mattheo gave you an odd look, raising one of his eyebrows suspiciously. You shook your head at him.

For the last month, a couple of your classmates had been mentioning things in passing to people around the school. A few of your other acquaintances, outside of the boys, had informed you of the rumors being spread. Awful things, mostly about the boys. Things you’d never even considered to be a possibility.

Luna, a friend of yours from Herbology, mentioned that some Gryffindor had spoken to a couple of her friends about you in Potions. The Gryffindor had said that you were only friends with the boys because you were interested in their money and status, and that the boys only kept you around because you were easy. That last part had made your stomach broil.

You had never, ever even wanted anything more than what you currently had with the boys. They were your best friends—almost like brothers—and there was nothing more you craved from them. Being away from them for multiple days at a time felt like you were separated from family members, not lovers. And you had never so much as mentioned their money—in fact, you refused to let them pay for dinner the majority of times. You hated when people paid for your things.

Needless to say, the words had hurt you deeply, and you’d begun to wonder how many other people thought these things about you.

You wondered that until you overhead someone talking about you in a class last week. Little whispers had been passing around behind you the entirety of the class anyway, but when you’d heard your name, you’d whipped around to see who had said it. And lo and behold, there sat the Gryffindor girl with her group of friends. Only, this time there were others leaning in and listening. Fellow Slytherins, no less.

“Are you talking about me?” you’d asked, your eyebrows furrowing in hurt and anger. Nervous eyes had glanced back and forth and all around until the Gryffindor girl—Nancy McLaggen, you’d learned was her name—spoke up with a cruel smirk on her lips.

“We were just wondering if a couple rumors were true,” she’d said, faux innocence painted on her face.

“Rumors about me? What rumors?”

“Well, we all had heard from someone in Ravenclaw that you’re being passed around the Slytherin boys.”

You had nearly choked on your spit. Nancy refused to wipe the smirk off her face, and the people around you had begun to listen in as well. Expressions of shock and amusement were scattered throughout the classroom, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You’d swiped your books together and excused yourself from the class, ignoring your teacher’s shouts to explain yourself.

And those were the events that had led you to where you currently were—miserable and pretending to be sick to avoid your peers. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been able to defend yourself in class last week and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself if it happened again.

And there was no way in hell you were telling the boys about this. There would be no hesitation from any of them to defend you, but that was exactly what you were worried about. If they tried to help you, it would only worsen your current condition. Everyone in school would see the action as them protecting their little sex toy.

Merlin, you were so embarrassed and hurt, you couldn’t stand it. You felt nauseated again.

“Actually, boys,” you started, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’m still feeling a little sick. I might wait until next week.”

“Next week?” Theo exclaimed. “How sick are you? Are you sure you don’t need to go to the infirmary?”

“No, I’m fine,” you sigh. “You go ahead—”

“No, we’re not going anywhere!” Enzo suddenly interrupted, stepping in front of Theo. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden spike in volume.

“En, I’m fine—”

“No, there’s something very wrong, and you’re not sick.”

“Guys, please just—”

“I agree with Enzo,” Theo interrupted. You glanced desperately at Mattheo, hoping someone would stand on your side.

“Something’s up,” he shrugged. “You don’t even look sick, kid.” You rolled your eyes. That annoyance was back.

“I said I was fine, why can’t you guys believe me?” you asked, sighing at their resilience. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Because we’ve known you since you were eleven, just like you’ve known us,” Theo said. “Would you just let us be if one of us was acting the way you are?”

His words gave you pause. He made a very fair point. If any of the boys standing before you was behaving as you were, you’d be concerned. You felt a bit of guilt in becoming so angry with their protectiveness. They just wanted to help—just as they always did.

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” said Enzo. You tear your eyes from theirs, finding the lines of tile in the floor.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore their pressing stares, you couldn’t. You knew you needed to talk to someone—especially one of them. If they found out through someone else, who knew what they’d do. You pressed a frustrated hand to your forehead. The pure shame you felt from having to tell them what you’d been hearing the last week felt almost synonymous with running through the halls of the castle naked.

“Okay,” you sighed in defeat. “Last week, Someone started passing some rumors around the school—rumors about me.”

The boys seemed to glance between each other a few times before resuming immediate interest in your words.

“I know that there were a few girls from Gryffindor involved; Luna was the one to tell me about them…” you paused for a moment, gathering what little pride you had left. “They’ve been telling everyone that you guys have been…passing me around.”

With the last few words, you heaved a sigh of both relief and defeat and lowered your head farther into yourself. You felt nauseated and wished you could disappear.

In a breath of time, Mattheo’s knuckles clenched painfully loud as he turned on his heel and slammed the dorm door open.

“Mattheo, no—” you started to shout, tossing yourself toward the door. Theo and Enzo caught you against them, blocking your path.

“Guys, stop! Let me go!”

“You couldn’t have expected us to hear that and be totally fine, could you?” Theo smirked, pressing a small kiss to your cheek. You groaned and shoved away from them, backing farther into your room.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “I didn’t tell any of you who I was talking about.”

“You said it was some Gryffindors, right?” Enzo asked.

“Yes, but do you have any idea how many Gryffindors are in this castle?”

“Enough.” Theo grinned wildly, his lips spreading evilly. The two boys crossed their arms and stood resolutely in front of the door.

“He’ll never figure out who it was,” you taunted, crossing your arms. Then just below the three of you, you heard a sharp shout of rough consonants.

“WHO THE FUCK WAS TALKING ABOUT HER?”

At the sound of Mattheo’s tone, the two boys exchanged an excited glance and quickly pushed themselves through the door. As they unblocked your path, you sped toward the door.

Just as you reached the gaping threshold, they slammed the door shut right in your face. You pressed your body against the door, beating your hands on the solid wood.

“THEODORE NOTT, LORENZO BERKSHIRE, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” you shrieked over their mocking laughter on the other side.

Something heavy clunked against the door and acted as their replacement as their chuckling voices disappeared down the hall.

No matter how hard you banged on the door’s solid wood, you realized you were never getting out of this unless—

You gasped and backed away from the door. Your wand. You could blast the door to pieces and repair it later.

With a successful smirk on your lips, you ran over to your bedside table and reached for the thin piece of material.

And just as your fingers curled around the wand, you heard a distant shout of “Accio!” Then your wand was flying out of your hand and zipping towards, then under the door.

You shrieked in anger before collapsing against your bed. You couldn’t believe that was going to go any other way, considering how well you knew the boys. It was well out of your hands now.

“You’ll thank us later, darling,” Enzo’s laughing voice was heard distantly through the stone walls. It took only a second for it to be drowned out by your frustrated groans and Theo’s taunting against some unknown assailant. You just hoped they wouldn’t hurt any of those students too badly…sort of.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03, @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @Yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx, @jolly4holly, @blvebanisters, @chgrch

[fictionalmenobsessor]

RULES ─ MASTERLIST ─ REQ BOX

CW: gn reader*, mentions of divorce.

there is a part 2 in the vault with smut if you guys want it 🫣 (as this story is gender neutral, the daughter can be adopted or surrogated, if you wish to put it that way. but the next part will specify that the reader is afab)*

song for the chapter: intro (end of the world) - Ariana Grande

husband!Simon, who is gutted but understanding when you say you want a divorce. your relationship had taken a slow but scrutinising turn ever since you had your first kid.

the flame wasn’t there anymore, and you had gone into a depressive state due to the overwhelming pressure of having to take care of your daughter by yourself every time he got deployed to another country, then having to pray he would make it out alive.

ex-husband!Simon, who moves out in a matter of days after the talk, going to a small local motel so you had your space. you are devastated at the loss of warmth on the other side of the bed. although it wouldn’t have been any different if he stayed, as you had both been isolating yourselves for a while.

ex-husband!Simon, who comes around every weeks to check up on you and your child. making sure that everything was okay, which it wasn’t, but you had pulled yourself together to make sure you were there for her.

ex-husband!Simon, who still comes to parent-teacher interviews/conferences, resting a loving hand on your thigh as your daughter’s teacher talks about how much of an amazing student she is.

you expected nothing of it as it could’ve just been a natural instinct from him.

like how he still wore his ring………. every day…

right…………

ex-husband!Simon, who helps out in the kitchen one night, after dropping off your daughter at a sleepover; passing dishes back and forth, making sure to add lingering touches, to see if they were reciprocated, or if he should stop. and you just ignored them for the time being, not wanting to give him the time of day due to the state he left you in.

ex-husband!Simon, who is on your door step the night before the divorce is finalised.

“I’m not signing the papers.” He stated firmly.

Your brows furrowed at the sight of him on your doorstep this late at night; speechless, you just let out a scoff of surprise.

“What?” You asked him confused, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not signing the papers,” He repeated, “I want to make this work.”

“You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Waltz back into my life like it’s nothing,” You answered, “I wanted a divorce for a reason.”

“I’ll be better.” His gaze narrowed, “I’ll prioritise you and our daughter, I didn’t do a good job last time. But now, I’ll be there every step of the way, and support you.”

“I won’t leave you in the dark again. And if you’re lost, I’ll make sure to be the light.”

Your gaze softened as he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Please,” He whispered, “Can we try again?”

And just like that, the walls that you had built up to make sure you didn’t get hurt again, came crashing down.

[helluvapoison]

Okay okay I think I got it!!

Imagine the Vees entering like a side room or something and finding cannibal! Reader (literally) tearing into some random person that was caught snooping around by them (reader). How would they react do you think?

No pressure to write this if you don't want too. Love your writing, your recent Zestial one was so cute!!!

-Cannibal Anon :))

Nice To Eat You

[i]

The Vees x Cannibal!Reader

warning: suggestive and dark themes ahead, blood and gore, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism

Admittedly, you’d gotten rather careless with your beloved around. Who can blame you when they make you feel on top of the world? With you at their side they felt a bit untouchable too. More so than usual. However someone had broken into their dressing room and wrote something foul on the mirror. You saw red. This wouldn’t happen again.

Cannibals were rather good at sniffing out something rotten.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Witnessing crocs make a comeback in Hell was the worst sight she’s seen to date

• Blood doesn’t particularly bother her, though she hates the mess of it all

• Despite the jokes shared between the two of you, it was sort of unspoken that you would keep your dietary habits away from your girlfriend

• She couldn’t help the gasp when she looked up from her phone, seeing blood spilling from your mouth

• You stiffened, matching her wide eyed expression

• Fuck, you never wanted her to see you like this

• Whipping around, you spat out the flesh and began furiously wiping your face with your sleeve

• “Stop!” Velvette shouts, daring to rush over and grab your shoulder

• Suppressing a flinch, you freeze at her command but refuse to face her

• “Who’s this then?”

• Your reply is bitter like the taste on your tongue, “The rat.”

• “Good.” You feel her grip on your shoulder tighten, “Make Joanne clean up when you're done. Oh, and dollface? Brush your teeth before you come find me, yeah?”

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He thought he meant it when he said he wouldn’t be grossed out by your food selection

• Though the meal was the same, seeing your entire front drenched in blood, red dripping down your chin was entirely different from date nights with fancy ambience and classy decor

• Shaking his head from side to side, he dials the shock out of his system and forces on a passive expression

• You two have already come so far! He can’t have his date mate tiptoeing around him now

• “Do I need a new assistant?” Vox asks, feigning a disinterested tone

• Your own surprise dilutes slowly, you were so sure Vox was bluffing when he said he could handle this

• He’s rather proud of himself that he was convincing enough to fool you

• “No. S’the bastard who wrote on your mirror.”

• “Excellent! Feed what’s left to Vark, let’s clean you up and go celebrate! Wash that shitty sinner taste out of your mouth with some wine, hm?”

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Unbothered by blood, he likes making you dish out his punishments while he sits back and watches

• “Dinner and a show,” He’ll joke, “Like killing two birds with one stone!”

• As sadistic as he is, Val doesn’t have the patience to draw out torture

• If he wants results, he’ll get them immediately or kill someone in the process

• The two of you are similar in that regard or you would’ve brought the half eaten body to him when the sinner was still kicking and screaming

• Surprise hits his face when he opens the door and fades just as fast

• “Aw,” Val clicks his tongue, “You couldn’t have waited for me, monstruo? You know how much I like to see you eat.”

• You toss a bloodied grin in his direction, “Got hangry. This was the cynic that said your films were shit.”

• He chuckles darkly, leaning over to cup your face and wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, “What do they think now?”

• “Nothin’ much.” You join his amusement with a breathy laugh

• Stretching your neck up to meet him halfway, Val kisses you right on the lips. His tongue briefly taking over your mouth, swiping away the copper taste and replacing it with his own

• “Come. Let’s get you in the bath, monstrou.”

• You quirk a brow at him, “A real one or a cat bath?”

• Laughing, Valentino taps your nose with an extra finger, “Dealer’s choice.”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ cannibal anon i love you!!! thanks again!!

[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[platypusundercover]

Hello!

I was wondering, could I please request a Boothill and Ratio x reader (Seperate) where the reader is attacked and comes home injured and covered in blood, to the surprise of their lover.(Sorry if this is too dark🥲)

Hi~ Thank you for the request! (Not too dark, don't worry!) First time writing Ratio, I was debating how to call him in there: either Ratio or Veritas, but went with the latter. I hope I wrote him alright ? It was fun to explore his character :D

Boothill

You tasted blood and that metallic under-flavor was definitely not welcome. You entered the kitchen and sighed. Boothill was hard at work on.. something that you couldn’t see on the counter, back facing you.

“I’m home.” You said simply, in a nasal voice. “And I need tissues.”

He wouldn’t have perked up without that last sentence. He looked back to you and suddenly whatever he was doing on the kitchen counter got discarded at the speed of light. You were uselessly holding a finger to your nostril trying to stop the bleeding, that already got all over your hand, chin and... collar? Nosebleed aren’t usually that bad, right?

“Wow! Hey there,” He said arriving at your side, putting a protective around your back. “Who the fork did this to you?”

“Weirdo at the bar.” You started explaining, as Boothill handed you tissues. “They were laying it on the waitress a bit too thick. I told them to back off and they didn’t like it very much.”

Boothill’s worried face eased a bit, and he couldn't refrain a grin. He knew you could handle yourself. You wouldn’t pick a fight you know you wouldn’t win. You bunched a piece of tissue into your nostril and kept the pressure with your fingers.

“I won though.” You said proudly, smiling big at him, mouth full of blood, teeth all red. “Then we got kicked out. Buuut I was promised a free drink, for saving the day.”

“Well look at ya.” He pulled you in closer and peck your forehead. “Got myself a knight in shining armor now?”

You laughed and detached from him to walk over to the sink and spit the blood that had accumulated in your mouth. You grabbed a glass and rinsed your mouth to get rid of that metallic aftertaste. The cowboy approached again and grabbed a tissue to remove the blood that still hadn't dried of your chin.

“They got you good, huh?” You grunted. “You gonna be alright?” He continued softer, concerned.

“Yeah, I will. I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He breathed. “Just checkin’. You tell me if anything comes up, eh? Bring you to a doctor or somethin’.”

You smiled at him, and pecked his cheek, hoping the sweet gesture would convey your gratitude. Nothing much he could do either way, it’s a matter of waiting for the bleeding to stop. Just the fact that he cared made your chest warm. It already felt much better anyway. He peered at you from under his hat and chuckled.

“You look ridiculous with that cotton ball up your nose.”

“You love me though.” You replied smugly, daring him to oppose you.

“Yeah, I do. But know what I love more?” He paused and you playfully shook your head. “You not complainin’ about the blood stains on your shirt, lemme clean it for you.”

You scoffed and pulled you bloodied shirt over your head, handing it to him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk. He gave you a wink and headed to the bathroom, while you finished cleaning out the blood on your neck and face with a wet towel. Once done, you looked over to what he left on the counter when you came in. Where those…? Was he cooking your favorite meal? Oh Boothill…

Ratio

When you arrived back home, a bit out of breath, you found Veritas where you left him earlier. On the sofa, a few papers in hand. He was tapping his pen against his lower lips rhythmically, eyes trained on the words hastily written by one of his student.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah I got it.”

Hearing your small, dazed voice made him detach his eyes from the paper he was reading and as soon as he set eyes on you, he shot up. You had blood running from your hair to over your brow bone and left eye, and your futile attempt to stop the bleeding with either your hands or your jacket just made a bloody mess of everything. Who knew head injuries bled so much? The paper in his hand long forgotten on the sofa, the doctor took long strides toward you.

“What happened?” He asked, concern evident on his face. He helped you toward the bathroom and sat you on the toilet while he got the first aid kit out.

“I decided to take a detour, I wanted to walk a bit longer.” You explained, slowly, still feeling a bit lightheaded from the Adrenaline finally subsiding. “There was a guy on the way and I don’t know. I must have looked at him funny because he approached me and tried to grab me?” You explained still confused at what exactly happened. “So, I pushed him away and he- He bashed my head into a wall.”

Veritas stopped his movement as he was putting on gloves after having sanitized his hands. He looked at you bewildered. How dare he? He hurriedly parted your hair to look for the main wound just on the crown of your head above your forehead. You almost leaned into the touch, sighing. When he found what he was looking for, he applied antiseptic, cleaning out any clots and debris around the wounds before covering it with a fresh piece of gauze and bandages. It didn’t even sting.

“I punched him back so hard he fell on his ass, and I kind of panicked and ran here. I couldn’t even see from my left eye because of the blood.” You laughed tiredly.

However, Veritas did not find this very funny.

“Head injuries can be extremely serious and traumatic. Maybe you should be more concerned about this!” He scolded lightly; his brows still furrowed in evident worry. “They can cause degeneration of brain cells, internal bleeding or even torn tissues.” He removed his gloves and threw them in the trash, now wetting a towel with warm water. “We should take you to a clinic after this. Check for anything more serious.”

“Aw, you care.” You mumbled, still in a daze a soft smile on your lips.

He light blush rose high on his cheekbones, and he started swabbing at your face to remove the drying blood from your skin, gentle as ever.

“Of course I care, you are my partner. This is serious, you know!”

“I know,” you drawled, your hand reach to wrap around his wrist. “But in what better hands could I be?” You nuzzled into his hand. “I got the famous Dr. Ratio as my personal nurse, I got nothing to worry about.”

He huffed and continued his task diligently, now a small pout on his lips, sporting his blush still. You were adorable sure but also such a menace. This was not the time to joke like that! But he couldn’t help fighting against a small smile. Oh how smitten he was.

© platypusundercover - 2024 || Request rules

[bettysupremacy]

Hi bestie <3 okay so I’m literally obsessed with your work and I was wondering if you could do a Jamie potter x reader where James comes back from quidditch (or rugby whatever you want jkebaksn) and he’s all sleepy and stuff but he didn’t shower before coming upstairs. Then reader is just like doing homework on his bed and won’t cuddle him bc he smells like sweat and he’s all pouty and enbwjsbe. Ofc no pressure if this doesn’t inspire you but fr love you 🫶

I need you to start sending me requests more more more bestie cause I literally loved this. He’s so sweet I miss him.

When James has to go to practice, it’s the second worst thing he fears he’ll ever have to do in this relationship.

Right below traveling.

It’s not that he’s obsessed, he just misses you. Misses you so wildly he fumbles the ball sometimes thinking about it. That’s normal.

And it’s normal to skip showers to see you quicker. Well, maybe you wouldn’t agree.

When he comes home, he’s sweaty. It glistens above his brow, gleaming in the low light of your lamp.

“You run a marathon?” You tease, shuffling under his blanket.

He smiles, rugby bag dropping to the floor with a clatter. “No,” He smiles, peeling his clothes off. His words are broken up between pants. “Elevator is broken again though. Had to help Patty with her groceries.”

His clothes don’t make it to the bin. Throwing them in the general direction suffices.

“That was sweet.” You murmur as he climbs over you, pulling a book off your chest, surprised by a teddy under it. “Hi.”

“Hi.” he smiles.

You push his hair back, grimacing at the dampness of it. “Missed you.”

He ignores this, nuzzling down into you, face smooshed into the skin of your naval. “Missed you more.” He feels the vibrations when you giggle.

“Y’tickling me, stop.”

Grumbling, he smiles when you pull him up by his hair. “Yes, lovely?”

“You’re smelly.”

His mouth drops, bewildered at your blunt affront. “You’re supposed to think I never smell bad.”

“I think you smell like sweat,” You drop his hair. “and you feel like it too. Do they not provide showers there?”

He climbs up your body, dropping chest to chest. Limply, you feel his rough hands slide under your neck as he mouths under your ear, and nips at your jawline. “They do, but I missed you.”

Your blinking stutters. He’s sweet on you, so sweet on you, it’s not your fault for wrapping your arms around his strong back. “I wish you missed the showers more.” You gasp.

“Never.” He smiles down at you.

“I’m gonna need you to get in the shower if you want to continue this.”

His face scrunches up, whining loudly into your neck as he drops into you. “But I’m tired.”

“Not too tired to give me a hickey.”

“Never too tired for you, honey.” He cheeks, muffled by your neck. Your shoulder comes up, tickled, but he holds you down, kissing there harshly.

“Is it bad?” You murmur.

He pops up, inspecting your neck seriously. “Dark purple already.” He grimaces.

You push your palm into the side of his head, giggling wildly. “Shut up, Jamie, get in the shower.”

He turns to your stuffed animal in complete offense. “You see how she treats me?”

“Oh my god.”

“Bet she doesn’t treat you like that, does she?”

“Go!” You manage out. “You smell like field!”

He pushes off the bed, shaking his head. “Field, lovely?”

“Field.” You nod grimacing.

“Okay,” He shrugs, off towards the bathroom. “I’ll go shower.”

“Thank you.” You smile, hugging the bear to your chest. “Wait,”

He turns, ears practically perked like a excited puppy. “Yes?”

“Can I get a kiss first?”

“You know it.” He bounces over pressing one, two, three warm kisses to your mouth. The fourth lands at the corner, skewed from the other three.

“Don’t miss me too much.” You murmur.

“Get me in 5 minutes if I’m not out,” He groans, pushing off the bed. “I might’ve passed out.”

“Be quiet, stupid.” You grab his pillow, throwing it at him softly. “That shower better be more than 5 minutes.”

The bathroom door clicks shut quickly. “Teddy doesn’t get this treatment!” He cries.

[fushiguho]

Drunk In Love ☆ Simon Riley

☆ WORD COUNT – 4.8k ☆ SYNOPSIS – After a long, draining day of fighting, you can't help but to notice that Simon needs a little help winding down, especially since he's been deprived for so long. A few drinks was enough to have all of his resolve slipping from his fingers but who could blame him for wanting to let go after being in charge for so long? ☆ CONTENT WARNINGS – Switch!Simon, sexual frustration, multiple orgasms

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

It had been a long, stressful day for the both of you, nothing but draining missions and dodging bullets all day, so who could blame you for wanting to wind down? Especially Simon, he looked like he could benefit from a little relaxation. Such a hardworking soldier, he deserves to let go sometimes.

With him being Captain MacTavish’s second in command, he is constantly drowning in immense responsibility and the constant pressure of meeting MacTavish’s high demands. You wouldn’t be surprised if Simon was nearing his wits’ end. He’s always been such a hard, diligent worker and you can’t help but admire his dedication.

Earlier, you had invited him over for a few drinks, promising that you’d help him wind down a little from such a long mission. Now here he was in your kitchen, practically clearing your liquor cabinet before your eyes.

You watched as Simon downed drink after drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand each time he took a sip from the crystal glass.

“Woah, slow down there lieutenant.” You jested, taking a small sip from your own glass, grimacing as the warm liquid slid down your throat.

Simon only responded with a deep chuckle before taking another swig of the dark liquor. He could practically feel the stress being stripped away with every sip he took. He was completely losing himself in that glass, growing more and more tipsy as the clock ticked on.

You dragged your eyes along the disheveled man before you, taking in every minuscule detail from the way his eyes fell lower with each drink, to the way he sat on your kitchen barstool, legs spread nice and wide as his hand rested on his large thigh.

God , you wanted nothing more than to help him out. He clearly needed a little more than a few drinks and you could tell.

And that’s exactly how you ended up here, sitting on the floor of your living room with your back against the couch and Simon idly sprawled between your legs. His back was pressed to your chest as you pumped him in your hand, his head lolling back in nothing but immense relief and pleasure.

He wasn’t even sure how it got to this point, but he damn sure wasn’t complaining. His gear was strewn drunkenly across the floor, the lights were dim, and the faint aroma of whiskey and bourbon lingered throughout the thick atmosphere of the apartment.

You grinned sadistically as you dragged your hand down his slick cock, ears perking up to the sound of him choking on his breath as you neared his aching balls. God , he was so desperate. It was almost amusing watching the way he pushed his hips forward, trying his hardest to get more out of your teasing hand.

“Awe, you needed this didn’t you?” You cooed, your free hand sliding down his thigh to push them further apart. “Needed someone to take care of you like this, hm?” You continued, your voice honeyed as you hummed in his ear.

Simon nodded quickly, his lips tight with a groan caught in his throat. He was panting heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly with an ever-growing need to cum. He sat messily between your legs. The zipper to his jacket was completely undone, the shirt beneath was lifted just enough to expose his bare chest and abdomen while his cargo pants rested just below his knees.

“I know it must be exhausting having to be so big and strong all the time, huh?” You cooed, your hand never faltering. “You just want someone else to take charge for once, is that it?”

He nodded weakly, mouth wide as his eyes screwed shut. That’s all he could do. There was something in the way you were beginning to twist your wrist each time you dragged your hand up his cock that had his breaths growing shallow.

“Need it.” He finally choked out, “I need it so bad… please.” He whimpered.

“I know, baby.” You frowned.

The thin layer of sweat that kissed his forehead glistened in the dim lighting of the living room. You leaned down to place a chaste kiss to his temple as you began to flick your wrist just a bit faster, forcing another whimper past his lips. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and as his mouth sat open, soft cries of your name falling from it.

“Am… am I your good boy?” Simon mumbled, his bottom lip pushing out into a slight pout.

You hummed in agreement, “Such a good boy for me.” You praised as you began to slowly drag your hand up his chest, the pads of your fingers collecting the beads of sweat in your wake. “I just might fuck you.” You purred, your index and middle finger beginning to close around one of his nipples before rolling it between them. Simon hissed at the feeling, his head falling back to rest on your shoulder.

“Please.” He whimpered. He looked up at you pleadingly through blonde lashes, “Please, please, please. I’ll do anything,” He continued.

“I know you would.” You smiled, “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?”

He only nodded in agreement, groaning at the feeling of your thumb slipping across the head of his cock. He was losing his fucking mind at the feeling of you tracing the slit, collecting the precum that sat there.

“Wanna taste.” He muttered before gripping your wrist and bringing your hand toward his face. He was then taking your thumb underneath his mask and into his mouth, sucking himself off of you with a hum of satisfaction.

You allowed him to suck and lick your finger, admiring the way he pushed it to the back of his throat and slightly gagging because he just couldn’t get enough. Your thumb glistened in his saliva. You took it as an opportunity to stroke him again, using his spit as lube.

The groan that fell from his lips was guttural. His cock was beginning to throb in your hand, twitching with a need to release. With your free hand, you gently took his face in your palm to turn him toward you. You began to tug at his balaclava, pushing it just above his nose. Almost immediately, Simon was pushing his lips against yours with a sigh of relief at the feeling. It was even better than he could have imagined.

“So eager.” You mumbled as you began to kiss him back, moving your lips slowly in contrast to his avidity.

Simon wasn't having it. He needed so much more than what you were letting on. In a desperate attempt to get just a little more from you, he was messily pushing his tongue into your mouth in hopes that he’d find yours pushing back.

God , he was so fucking needy. You couldn’t even find yourself to blame him. How could you? You’re the first woman he’s allowed to touch him ever since he began working for MacTavish. With all the work and responsibility he’s faced with, the last thing he had time for was his own pleasure. He has been deprived for so long, he was practically starving for your touch.

Caving without much protest at all, you allowed your tongue to collide with his, the two muscles pushing against one another aimlessly. You swallowed every sound that left his lips––every gasp, every whimper, and every groan of your name was absorbed into the kiss. He almost couldn’t control himself, not with the way you were steadily pumping him in your hand.

You could feel him starting to buck his hips forward, nearly fucking your fist in a vain attempt to get just a little more. He didn’t even think twice before he began wrapping one of his hands around yours, almost guiding your strokes in a way. Shamefulness was the last thing on Simon’s mind. All he knew was that he needed so much more and he didn’t care how he got it, as long as he did.

“What?” You grinned, “You want more?” You whispered after pulling away to examine his contorted face.

“Yes, fuck.” He whined, desperation growing evident in his tone.

You stared at him in a contemplative silence. His eyebrows were furrowed, silently begging you for just a little more. Simon could feel his chest swelling, almost in a need to cry as he sat compliantly between your legs, his bottom lip damn near trembling as he wordlessly pleaded.

You had no intention of denying him what he craved the absolute most, yet you still couldn’t ignore the thrill and the power it gave you as you stirred him on.

“Beg for it one more time.” You whispered as you gently pushed his head to the side to expose the skin of his throat, “You just sound so cute.” You added before beginning to drag your lips along the flesh, littering the area in soft, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please…” He started, his eyes falling closed at the feeling of your warm lips pressing against him, “I need it—you… I need you, please.” He whined sweetly before hissing at the feeling of your teeth nipping at his neck.

“Yeah? You need me, baby?” You purred, silently reveling in his ever-growing desire for you, your touch.

Simon nodded, “I need you, okay?” He repeated with a little more frustration, “I’ve been a good boy for so long so just please… please?”

You were more than satisfied. If you were being honest, you weren’t expecting that much out of him. Nevertheless, you gave him exactly what he was yearning for. With that, you were slipping from behind him to reposition yourself. You were soon situating yourself in front of him to slide off your cargo pants along with your underwear which were undoubtedly drenched in your arousal.

Simon sat in a gawking silence as he watched you undress yourself before him. His lips parted slightly, throat growing dry as he watched you unzip your jacket before slipping it down your shoulders. You were soon pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it beside you, adding to the ever-growing pile of garments.

You could feel his burning gaze on you as you began crawling toward him to tug his pants the rest of the way off, along with his briefs before tossing them aside. You were then throwing your legs on either side of his waist to hover yourself over his stiff cock.

The heat between the two of you was overwhelming. If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn you heard the radiating hum of the sheer warmth. God, you could’ve just devoured him right there, whole.

“Off—take this off.” You muttered as you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders before he began quickly tugging his shirt over his head, discarding it haphazardly.

You drank up the sight before you, absolutely loving the way his biceps flexed as he removed his shirt, the way his broad shoulders narrowed into his thick neck which was littered in your love bites, even the way his hair messily stuck out of the back of his balaclava was worth mentioning.

“Such a pretty little soldier, huh?” You hummed as your hand came up to rest on his cheek, the stubble of his beard grazing your palm. “My pretty little soldier.” You corrected before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Simon couldn’t even acknowledge your praise as he felt you beginning to line yourself up with his cock before slowly sinking down onto it, taking him all in one fell swoop. The feeling of your warm, tight cunt devouring him was enough to render him speechless.

The moan that fell from his mouth was peerless. It was so throaty and long overdue, as if he had been holding it in since the beginning of time, waiting for someone to finally force it out of him. He stretched you out in the best possible way, filling you up almost so much to the point you weren’t sure if you’d last nearly as long as you were anticipating.

You were slowly raising your hips off of him only to bring them back down, colliding with his once again. You repeated the action over and over again, forcing Simon to gasp at the feeling of your sloppy walls sucking him in so greedily. His head was rolling back to dangle over his broad shoulders as his lips parted, shallow breaths tumbling past them.

“Always knew this cock was good.” You admitted before placing both of your hands on his shoulders, shamelessly using him as leverage to get just a little bit more.

Simon watched in awe as you rode him. His mouth sat wide as his eyes flitted back and forth from your scrunched face, to your tits and how they spilled out of your bra, even to the way your cunt took him in so sloppily to the point that it was almost too much for him to take in. This new, yet salacious view of you as you fucked him senseless was far too much for him to handle.

“Oh my G-God—fuck… ” Simon whimpered, his voice weak as he tried his hardest to maintain his composure but could feel himself horribly failing.

“This what you needed, hm?” You whispered as you tilted your head to the side, examining his already fucked-out features, “Needed someone to fuck you like this? Take care of you, huh?”

Simon nodded slowly, mumbling an incoherent mhm in response as he felt you beginning to roll your hips against his. Two needy hands were sliding up your thighs to find their respective place on your hips. He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing the fat of the skin as he pushed you back and forth, guiding your movements. He just couldn’t get enough.

The feeling of his large, calloused hands splayed along your hips as he rolled them against his own had your cunt practically leaking all over him, creating the stickiest mess between the two of you. Your arousal wasn’t shy as it kissed his cock in the shiniest layer, the slick substance even slipping down to coat his aching balls.

The way Simon was beginning to buck up into you was growing hard to ignore. The feeling of him pushing his hips forward as he pulled you down onto him, meeting himself halfway had you humming in pure ecstasy.

The force of his desperate thrusts as he fucked himself into you had you biting back the persistent urge to cry out for him—moan and whimper his name on a consistent loop as if you were a broken record that no one cared to mend.

You could only nod your head in approval with a slack jaw, silently commending his sudden eagerness and fervor. If you were being completely honest, you were taken aback by his abrupt change in temperament. You couldn’t even hold back the onslaught of moans and gasps as they tumbled past your lips, filling the air between the two of you.

“Mm–that’s it.” You panted, “Fuck me… just like that.” You moaned before leaning forward to connect your lips with his, finally closing the aching distance. “Just like that.” You repeated, your lips now slotted against his.

The kiss was nothing but tongue and saliva as you sloppily moved your lips against his. There was a clear sense of urgency in both of your movements as you tried to find a pace that would eventually sync. The whimpers and breaths that fell from your mouths were absorbed into the kiss as he continued to fuck you into an absolute mess.

“So good for me.” You mumbled, lips still pressed to his. “Fucking me so good,  fuck.” 

“Yeah?” Simon breathed as he was beginning to lift himself up from the floor to lean forward, pushing your back into the carpet in the process.

By the time you could even gauge his intentions, Simon was pushing the back of your thighs to your chest while slanting his hips downward, stuffing himself inside of you with a groan. You laid there in bewilderment as you allowed him to fuck you into the floor of your living room, your mouth agape in nothing but shock.

“This good too?” He questioned, his voice curious and hoarse.

You found yourself nodding in agreement, barely acknowledging his words as he was beginning to push against your clit with the pad of his thumb, tracing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. The broken sounds that came from you only pushed him further, encouraging him to do just a little more.

His thrusts were heavy and desperate. The sound of skin against skin clashing with the beautiful melody of your moans and whimpers was the only thing that filled the atmosphere of the room. You could feel his warm, wet balls slapping against the fat of your ass as he stuffed himself deeper and deeper, the sensation only adding to your arousal.

You said nothing as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and pleasure, still aghast at his sudden change in tenor. Though you were taken aback, you still couldn’t ignore the brew of arousal in your abdomen at the thought of Simon taking charge.

“M’supposed to be taking care of you.” You whined as a pout began tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I know.” Simon cooed, his thrusts never faltering, “Just been so good to me. ‘Wanna take care of you too.” He spoke breathlessly before leaning down to push his lips against yours once again.

You kissed him back messily, sighing into his mouth as you let him take over your body. There wasn’t much protest from you if any at all. If he wanted to return the favor—make you feel just as good as you did him—you were in no position to complain, not that you felt the need to anyway.

“You just feel too fuckin’ good.” He choked, “Can’t get enough—fuck .” He groaned as both of his hands were tightening around your waist before he practically began pulling you onto his cock, using you as if you were his own personal fucktoy.

He wasn’t shy in the slightest as he was beginning to use your pliable body as a fleshlight, mercilessly giving himself to you without any thought other than that of making you feel as good as he possibly could. In fact, he could feel his mind falling blank as he continued to fuck you, the only thing he could comprehend was you and God were you absolutely beautiful laying beneath him. 

The way your face contorted in overwhelming pleasure, eyebrows knitted as your mouth hung open, silently begging for more. The way your breasts were beginning to slip out of the confines of your bra from the sheer force of his thrusts, exposing your hardened nipples. Even the way he could see his cock bulging in your abdomen each time he shoved himself back inside of you. Everything about you was intoxicating and he just couldn’t get enough.

You could feel his lingering gaze as he drank you up, adoring your every feature, every breath, every moan. His eyes were warm as they tore you apart, burning holes into your soft skin with nothing but longing and lust. It was almost too much.

“So pretty.” He muttered, “Always been so fuckin’ pretty to me.” He moaned while bringing up a hand to rest it on your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his palm against your flushed skin. His thumb moved slowly as he dragged it along the expanse of your cheek, inching closer and closer to your bottom lip. You took it as an opportunity to kiss the pad of his thumb gently.

Your lips moved languidly as you planted several kisses to the digit before eventually taking it into your mouth, sucking on it sweetly. Your eyes fell closed as you swallowed around his thumb, treating it as if it were his cock. Your slow tongue in contrast to his heavy thrusts was like cold water dripping onto his warm skin.

The feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb was enough to have the pit of his stomach aching in the need to cum. He couldn’t ignore the throb of his cock as the urge to release himself only grew stronger. If he were being completely honest, he was a goner as soon as you began undoing his pants.

You could tell he was on the brink completely letting go, mere seconds away from slipping over that inevitable ledge. It was the way his thrusts grew sloppier, hips stuttering as he tried to maintain a steady pace. The way his breathing picked up, chest desperately heaving each time he inhaled. Even the way his dog-like pants interrupted every moan that fell from his mouth was enough to let you know he was close.

“You gonna cum for me?” You grinned, your small hands slipping up the sides of his thick frame, tracing every curve and divot of the pronounced muscles.

Simon nodded frantically, whimpering like a fucking puppy at the feeling of your hands on him combined with the aching in his abdomen.

“Come on then,” You encouraged, “Cum for me like the good boy I know you are.” Your hand was reaching up to rest on his cheek just as he did yours.

He kissed the palm of your hand before nodding again. The winding coil in his stomach finally snapped and with one final stutter of his hips, he was quickly pulling himself out of you to hastily stroke himself in his hand. Whimpers, profanities, and cries of your name fell from his tongue as he began releasing several ropes of cum all along the expanse of your cunt, coating you in the milky-white substance.

“That’s it… that’s my good soldier, makin’ such a mess for me.” You praised as he milked himself dry, nearly thrusting into his own fist in a vain attempt to get more out of his useless hand.

Simon said nothing as he began backing away from you, only to drop his head between your thighs. With one hand, he was pushing your legs apart before slipping his tongue past his lips to clean up the mess he made, the warm muscle dragging along your sopping folds, collecting the mixture of your arousal and his cum on the tip of his tongue.

Your brain was far too hazed to even realize what he was doing until he was pushing his middle and ring finger inside of you, fucking his cum as deep as he could. The vibration of him humming in satisfaction as he devoured you had your back arching up off the floor in nothing but pleasure.

“Simon…” You breathed.

One of his hands was slipping beneath you to press against your lower back, helping you maintain that pretty arch he absolutely adored. You could feel his sharp gaze as he ran his tongue through you, desperately searching for your eyes looking back.

“So good.” He muttered, his lips still pressed to your cunt.

He was practically drunk off of you and your taste—way drunker than any bottle of cheap liquor could get him. He could feel his eyes fluttering closed as he licked you clean, swallowing his own cum like the nasty little soldier he is.

Simon could feel himself growing hard again as he drank you up. The unconscious thrust of his hips into the carpet as he cleaned up his mess had him whimpering against your sloppy cunt, adding to your arousal. He could feel remnants of his cum leaking from the head of his cock as he practically fucked himself against the floor like a dog, surely leaving a stain for you to discover later but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

You drove him absolutely insane. If he could get off to nothing but the sheer taste of you, he wasn’t sure how he would ever be able to carry on with his life without you. He’s more than determined to keep you around and is willing to do just about anything to keep in his corner.

You could feel the curl of his fingers as he began to push against your slick walls, forcing a guttural moan from your chest. He even applied pressure to your abdomen with the palm of his other hand to push you over that ledge he knew you were steadily approaching.

“Cum for me, please.” He mumbled, his warm voice sending vibrations throughout your entire being. “Please… I need it—need you to cum for me, please… on my tongue.” He begged.

He was so desperate and there was nothing he needed more in that moment. Never in his life has he craved something so badly. He needed to taste you on his tongue and if he didn’t soon, he was sure he’d die from pure starvation.

That building tension in your stomach finally broke and his pleading words are what pushed you over that ledge. You could feel your head falling empty as your orgasm nearly took over your whole body.

“Oh my God, m’cumming… gonna cum, fuck.” You whined. A chain of unbroken moans and gasps fell from your parted lips as you came all over his tongue, hips rolling against his face as you pushed your cunt further into his mouth.

“C‘mon,” Simon encouraged, “That’s it. Give it to me, I want it all.”

His fingers never faltered inside of you as you came. He fucked you throughout the entirety of your orgasm, making sure to leave you a thoroughly fucked-out and panting mess. Before he had the chance to back away, you were dragging him up your body by the nape of his neck to push your lips against his again, tasting the saccharine mixture of cum on his swollen lips. His tongue was quickly pushing itself into your mouth, desperate to give you everything he had left to offer.

“Mm, we taste so good.” You mumbled as you licked and sucked at his tongue.

Simon moaned in agreement, slightly nodding into the kiss. He would be lying to himself if he said he couldn’t cum again, and again, and again. Eating you out made him so incredibly hard that he would do just about anything to release himself one last time. With one hand, he was desperately reaching for your smaller one to drag it between your warm bodies, placing it on his cock, his frame still hovering above yours.

You smiled against his lips as he forced you to feel his stiff erection, “Awe, is my needy boy still hard?” You teased before beginning to slowly stroke him in your fist. “Want me to make it go away, baby?”

He nodded once while sucking in a tight breath through clenched teeth at the feeling of your hand firmly wrapping around the base of his cock, still sensitive from his previous orgasm. You flicked your wrist steadily, twisting your hand slightly to the right each time you dragged it up his cock, only to swipe your thumb across the head once you’ve reached the top, smearing the cum that sat there.

“Fuck… fuck .” He groaned. “You’re so good to me—fuck.”

It wasn’t long before he began to feel that brewing tension in his stomach once again, aching with the burning desire to release. You could feel the twitch of his cock against the palm of your hand, silently begging you to go faster so that he could cum for you one final time. You gave into the silent pleads and picked up a quicker pace, dragging your hand up and down the length of his cock hastily.

“C’mon, baby.” You encouraged, “Make another mess and cum for me.” You whispered before taking his face in your palm and pulling him toward yours to kiss him one final time.

Simon couldn’t hold back the broken cries and whimpers that fell from his tongue as he was beginning to release several spurts of cum between the two of you, coating your chest and your abdomen in the sticky substance. Your sweet words of praise are what pushed him over.

You swallowed every last sound that left his mouth, being sure as to tuck them away and stow them for later retrieval when you’d inevitably think about this very moment again.

“So fuckin’ good for me.” You praised before pecking his lips once.

With that, he was finally rolling from his position on top to lay beside you. A silence flooded the room, nothing but the sound of erratic breathing and the hum of the air conditioning could be heard. As you laid quietly beside Simon, you could feel his lingering gaze.

You turned your head to face him, “What is it?” You finally asked, breaking the comforting silence.

“Nothing... I just hope you know you’re not going anywhere.” Is all he said, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re mine.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

Hey, you! Did you like this? Click here for more!

[hellishjoel]

hi!! if you feel down to write this, could i request something along the lines of: bratty reader teases joel all day, even in front of his friends and in public, so when they both go their separate ways, he sends her a video of her fucking his fleshlight teasing her back for her attitude.

"See babydoll, this coulda been you if you weren't acting all bratty today; I could've been balls deep in you by now, but instead im balls deep in this toy"

SORRY, IT'S BEEN RATTLING AROUND IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS NOW ♡♡

tease

1.5k // brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

masterlist

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, brat!tamer Joel, smut via fucking a toy, extended teasing, dirty dirty dirty man talk, pet names, etc. very little editing, a little angst?

A/N: thank you for the request! short and sweet <3

Joel is infuriated. 

Your hand is under the table, raking up and down his thigh as if the motion was innocent. As if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

It had been like this all day, you had been toying with him. Cat and fuckin’ mouse. 

It started this morning. You insisted on coming over to Joel’s place early in the morning to make him a big breakfast, something he could definitely get behind. He came out of the shower, freshly trimmed and manscaped, all for you. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked downstairs and to the kitchen was the sight of you making breakfast in just a pair of black panties and his oversized dark gray Miller Contracting shirt. The sight alone made his cock swell for a treat of morning wood. 

You served his plate, gave that innocent little face, and proceeded to bend over the table to reach for the salt and pepper. 

Joel’s hand slowly moved up the back of your thigh, cupping the globe of your ass and giving a good squeeze to you. He was about to pull you in to sit on his lap, but was surprised to see you just go and sit in your chair across from him, digging into your own breakfast. 

Okay. 

The two of you had plans to meet up with Joel and Tommy’s good friend Dan and a few others to celebrate Dan’s birthday at a local pub. 

That’s where the two of you were now, with your hand raking up and down his leg and doing a few gentle squeezes that really made a shiver go up his spine. 

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, hard under the outline you were absentmindedly drawing on his thigh. 

“Cut it out.” Joel told you sternly under his breath, his pint glass covering his mouth as he laid it against his bottom lip, trying to stare straight ahead at one of the large televisions they had in the bar. 

“Cut what out?” 

So many damn people were around, and it always felt like they were watching. 

Your fingernail added pressure to him, Joel’s knuckles going white around the pint glass he was certain he might shatter it. 

He felt you lean in, lips to his ear as everyone absentmindedly discussed the game on the tv. 

“What’s wrong, daddy?”

The condensation on Joel’s glass and your naughty comment had his pint slipping right through his fingers, his iron grip loosening for just a second before it clattered down onto the table and spilled everywhere. 

“Shit,” Joel quickly cursed, standing up from the table and reaching for the closest napkins he could find. 

Everyone looked at him and leisurely laughed, dismissing Joel’s little slip, wiping the streams of ale that reached their side of the table before returning to their mundane conversations. 

Joel’s eyes were staring daggers into you. He was pissed. 

Not only did he have beer dripping from the hem of his shirt, you were watching with a dopey smirk on your face as if you didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Joel’s cock has been aching in his jeans for hours now, the thought of bending you over and spanking the attitude out of you was really what he could go for right now. 

But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting Joel worked up all day, denying him access to his favorite little toy, not being able to pound his dick into your pussy like what he’s been craving for since he woke up this morning. 

He’d be a simmering tea kettle until he could get a good cum in, he couldn’t be here any longer. 

“I’m headin’ home to change.” Joel announced to Dan who shook his hand and thanked him for coming. 

You were in tow, slinging your bag around your shoulder as you followed Joel out with a pleased little grin. 

Joel’s face was fuming red like an angry cartoon character, one hand gripping his steering wheel while the other held his clutch.

Your hand landed on his arm, head coming to lay on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Someone’s angry.” Your teasing made his cock twitch. 

“Don’t like bein’ toyed with.” Joel returned flatly, feeling you run your fingers delicately up and down his bicep, causing goosebumps in your wake. 

“Who’s toying with you, daddy? When have I ever not delivered?” Your hand egregiously cupped his cock through his jeans, Joel swerving on the road at the unexpected grip you had on his pulsating balls. 

He could cum in seconds if you’d just let him. 

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat, you know that, baby?” Joel said through gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together as his heart raced, the pressure pumping down to his swollen dick. 

He harshly shoved your hand away, feeling your pout from the passenger seat. 

Joel pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he concentrated on driving, watching from his peripheral as you hiked your skirt up for his pleasure.

You slipped two fingers past the band of your panties, playing with your slick before circling around your clit and letting out a little moan of his name. 

Joel’s eyelashes fluttered, he dared himself not to look but he couldn’t help it. 

His lips parted at the sight, watching as your fingers moved under the veil of your panties. But he could hear it. The squelching of your wet juices combatting your anxious fingers.  

“You gonna let me take care of that for ya?” Joel asked, his final try at trying to get himself in your pants. 

He watched you throw up your eyes in debate, biting down on your lower lip before you shook your head and crossed your legs, removing your hand as you sucked your slick right off your fingers. Not even letting Joel have a taste. 

“Mmm… nope.” 

Joel cocked his head, his throbbing member nearly giving him a headache. 

You were surprised to see Joel had parked in front of your house, looking out the window then back to him. 

“What are you-”

“Go on.” 

You paused, your eyes narrowing on him before you took off your seatbelt. 

“Fine… you can come in, you know.” You looked over his face but he was just staring straight ahead. “Joel?”

“Gotta go home and change my shirt, take care of a few things. Go on, now.” 

You let out a short little huff, throwing his truck door opening and hopping down, quickly slamming it closed as the truck rocked. You eyed him as you crossed in front of it, hitting the steps to your front porch when he peeled off. 

What the hell. 

You teased Joel all the time! Maybe never for this long but you weren’t expecting him to leave you high and dry at the end of the night. You liked when he showed you who was boss, telling him that your pussy was all for him. 

You threw yourself back in bed, rolling your eyes at the whole situation. 

Your phone buzzed beside you after you got out of the shower, combing through your hair before sitting on your bed and opening the video message from Joel. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched Joel thrust his cock into his fleshlight. 

An audible whimper left you, watching it in shock. 

His deep grunts echoed through your phone speakers, mouth going dry as you watched his fleshlight get filled up. You were envious of that fucking toy. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Joel’s moans were heaven to your ears, feeling a white hot spot start in your stomach as the video continued to play. 

His wrist snapped the toy faster down his cock, watching as it was lubed up with his spit and slick from his pre-cum and probably a bit of lube. 

Another whimper left your lips, begging that the toy could have been your aching pussy. 

“Ya see.. This could have been you, baby doll. Could have.. fuck.. could have been balls deep inside of you right now if you didn’t act like a damn brat all day. This could've been you.” 

His words made your bottom lip quiver, continuing to watch as his girthy length filled that toy to the brim. 

“God damn.. M’ fuckin close.”

His words made you shutter. You wanted to turn the video off. Hell, you wanted to chuck your phone out the window. But here you were, your eyes glued to it. You could see his dark happy trail, his salt and pepper hair that led to his fat fucking cock. 

You should have taken it at breakfast, you should have given it to him at the fucking bar! You’d do anything right now for him to fill you up like he was for his fleshlight. 

His phone got a little shaky as he came, Joel’s beautiful but erratic moans filling your ears as he flushed himself deep into his toy, filling it with his white hot cum. 

You could hear his breathing slow, watching as he slowly filmed himself taking the toy off his cock. He was covered in his own spill, and all you wanted to do was lick it clean off of him. 

“Goodnight baby girl, thanks for the good cum. Needed it all day.”

-----

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog

how to be added to the taglist

[misguidedasgardian]

I would like you to write a fic with Dark! Cregan Stark x reader

😏

Dark you mean... like this...?

Price of War 

part 2!

Dark!Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You are send to the North to rally Cregan Stark to your side, 

Warnings: cursing, misogyny, medieval setting, war, usurpation, smut, loss of virginity, a bit of blood, dub-con (reader feels pressured), coercion, hints of a threesome (mfm), breeding kink, breeding, might miss some warnings 

“your sister will go North!”, said Otto, talking to Aegon and Aemond, Alicent just shook her head

“No, she is the girl, she will not travel the longest distance, it makes no sense!”, Otto just looked at his daughter

“Exactly, she is the girl, Cregan Stark will only answer to soft and innocent words”, he continued. Alicent then looked more scared than before

“You want her to whore herself to that pagan?”, she whined, her mouth twisted downwards 

“If she must”, he said dismissively, Aegon only smiled wickedly, Aemond looked to the floor in front of him, grabbing his hands behind him tightly, controlling himself 

“No…”

“I must go”, the four of them turned to the girl that just entered the chamber, silent like a little mouse, “Grandfather is right, if a marriage alliance will grant us the North, I must try”

“No”, whined Alicent

“Sush mother”, said Aegon, and that surprised even Aemond, “if our little sister wants some northerner cock who are we to stand in her way?”

“You will respect your sister!”, grunted Otto, Alicent just whined, covering her mouth in a horrified glance

“i will offer my hand in marriage, for after the war”, she muttered, with a hopeful smile, trying to ignore her brother, and she looked at her twin, Aemond, she wanted him to be proud of her, “and then I will come back, sooner rather than later, to protect the capital from the blacks”

“Oh my sweet”, Alicent grabbed her daughter and hugged her tightly, caressing her silver hair 

“I’ll be back soon mother”, she offered, and with no time to waste, she grabbed the letter her grandfather had written, and went to get dressed.

She wore the thickest riding gear he had, if it gets cold up there in the skies, the skies of the North would be even colder

She braided her own hair in a single braid

She wanted to do this, she wanted to make her family proud of her, she had to show determination, she had to protect her family, so with a hopeful smile, the kingsguard escorted her to the pit

Aemond wanted to speak to her, but she wouldn’t let her, she would lose her determination if she heard the soft words of her brother, besides, he was supposed to be betrothed also, she couldn’t take the same liberties, not that something ever happened…

Her dragon was waiting for her, happily, it was the only dragon that hatched for her or her siblings, so it was small, like Vermax, Jacaerys’ dragon.

She took to the skies quickly, she wanted to go and come back as soon as she could

She had heard stories about Cregan Stark, that he was young, and honorable, and as a Stark, he was joust and kept his word

He was going to support the King, your brother, or at least that is what you wanted to believe

You smiled hopefully

It took you two days to reach the capital of the North, and you knew when you got there because it was magnificent

It was a huge castle that looked like it had been there for a thousand years, and was going to be there far after you are gone as well.

The snowy mountains, the frozen lakes

It was beautiful 

Your dragon landed heavily on the snow, and when you touched the snowy ground, you heard another growl, you looked up to thee your nephew’s green beast, growling and snapping. Your dragoness growled back. You let them smell and growl at each other, without a rider to command them, they wouldn’t attack

 You were received by a soldier who after hearing your introductions, guided you inside the huge fortress, unimpressed and weary. The castle was huge, but you had no time to look at it, as you followed the men with fast feet. They led you to the great hall, it was filled with people, lords and ladies, but there, in the center of it all, you couldn’t miss him, stood a twenty five years old Cregan Stark.

“Princess (Y/N) of House Targaryen, daughter to the dowager Queen Alicent HIghtower”, and sister to the new King, you thought.

Everything went quiet, and all of them them walked away from you, to give you a huge space, for now there was nothing between you and the guardian of the North 

“Lord Stark”, he was an impressive man, dressed in wolf furs, his face serious to be so young, his eyes a piercing blue, his hair a dark brown, a strong beard on his chin and jaw

“Princes”, immediately you saw Jace, standing a few feet away from the Lord

“Jacaerys”, you greeted, and you wanted to smile, you liked Jace, but unfortunately, now you were enemies, he looked at you with a mean frown, you tried to clear your throat, your eyes to the ones of the big Wolf, sitting on the Northerner throne

“My Lord”, you said, “I bring word from my brother, the King”

“The King?”, he asked, Jace smirked, “forgive me, princess, because I believed Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen was supposed to sit the Iron Throne after her father, King Viserys”, he said, you paled, you got here too late, but still, he stood up from his throne and walked towards you, taking the scroll from your hand, he read it hastily, not before giving you a last heavy look, to then turn to the paper 

“I see” he whispered, looking back at you, he then looked at Jace, “my allegiance and my swords, for you”, he said smirking

You don’t know how long Jace had been in here, you guessed it couldn’t be that long, but the way that they looked at each other, it seemed like they had formed some sort of friendship, that they were in an alliance together, leaving you out in the cold

It was too late 

“Why would I support your brother’s claim?”, he asked then, sitting himself again, “My father sworn allegiance to the Queen, and you must know, Stark’s words mean something”, he said, “unlike the words of Hightowers and Lannisters”, you swallow thickly, but you couldn’t rid of the knot in your throat 

“The Queen was there, in the last moments with the king…”, you said, unconvinced, “she heard him muster his last words, that he desired Aegon to seat the Iron Throne after him”

“Lies”, said Jace

“So the only one there, to testify, is your mother”, he said, unimpressed, it sounded bad, it did, very convenient, but you knew your mother, and she wouldn’t lie with something like that… she wouldn’t, she was to good, too pius, you heard the lords and ladies snickering

You felt his deep gaze on you

It was true what they said, you believed, the Starks were more wolf than men, he looked like he wanted to eat you, you felt a lightning bolt traveling down your back, you started playing with your fingers, you were so cold and nervous 

You missed the way Jacaerys and Cregan smirked at each other 

“Clear the room, leave us”, commanded Cregan, and in seconds, the rooms as empty, even Jacaerys had left, only then you dared to look up at him

“Say it again”, he demanded, “why would I accept your brother’s claim?”, he asked

“He is the King’s first born son”, it was a justification, but it sounded like a question. He stood up front he throne, making you jump, he walked slowly, circling you, like a hunter

“They offered you up to the wolf uh?”, he asked

“Yes”, you said shakily, feeling his hot breath in the back of your neck 

“Show me how much you are willing to give for me to support your brother”, he whispered huskily

“What?”, you asked, looking at him, “I don’t understand”, he grabbed you by the hips and draw you back to him, now your back was to his chest, his mouth lingered over the side of your face 

“I am in need of a wife”, he purred, you felt like your heart beating so strong you believed he could hear it 

“But… would you support my brother?”, you asked, so nervous, you knew this was wrong, but you had to do something, or else, you would lost the North

“You’ll have to earn it…”

“How?”, you asked, when his big hand traveled from your hip, to your belly to one of your breasts, making you whimper

You whimpered, hiding your moans on the sheets underneath, but Cregan grabbed your by the hair roughly and made you crane your neck back

“I want to hear you”, he growled, pounding into you, over and over, “as I breed you”

“You already did”, you whined grabbing onto the sheet

This was wrong

You were not married 

And yet Cregan was cumming inside of you yet again, the dirty, squelching noises resounded over the room, your cunt, creamy and weeping, dripping the Stark’s seed, and yet he didn’t tired, you had been at it for hours

It hurt

Not much as it did when it started, when he took you for the first time, making you bleed, stealing your maidenhead, but now you were sore and tired, he hadn't stop 

“Cregan please”, you whined, you reached back, managed to grab his side, “I’m so full, I’m tired and sore”, you cried

But it felt so so good

“I have to teach you a lesson”, he growled, grabbing you greedily, he had you face down on the bed, your thighs bend, giving him complete access to you, “coming here, thinking a Stark’s word is feeble and weak, that we forget”, you cried out, his big cock reached a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, “The North remembers little one, you are traitors and usurpers”

“I-I’m sorry”, you babbled, your thoughts, because of the pleasure, melted in a cloud, “I didn't mean it”

“You only wanted this, didn’t you? whoring yourself, searching for a real man for a husband”

“Mmm”

“Answer me little dragon”, he whispered teasingly, his hot open mouth in your cheek, you felt his teeth teasing your skin, threatening to bite you

“Yes”, you said barely

“I will marry you, you will stay here with your dragon like the good lady wife you are”, he growled, “they won’t take you back, with my seed dripping down your thighs, you will marry me won’t you? you will give me many children?”

“Yes”, you accepted your fate, closing your eyes and feeling his thick, fat cock pumping you full of his cum again, it felt so good

He was finally over, after hours and hours, he dropped himself to the bed right next to you, he grabbed you a bit rough, but accommodate you by his side

His fingers caressed your shoulder, then your back, then your bump, and then

You whined pitifully when you felt his thick fingers entering your creamy pussy, his seed mixed with your cum…

“So full of me, so good”, he purred, “You will stay here and bear children won’t you?”, he continued, “you have to eliminate from your pretty little head thoughts about war and alliances, the only thing in your mind from now on will be to take care of my child, and bare me more, is that understood?”, you nodded, “you are usurpers and traitors, so you will have to work hard for us to forgive you, won’t you?”, you looked at him even is it was a question he wasn’t really asking, you barely nodded, as his finger continued to play with you, “answer me little dragon”

“Yes Cregan”

“My lord, I’m your lord now”

“Yes My Lord” 

Then the door of his chambers opened, you jumped trying to cover your nakedness, but Cregan prevented you

Jace entered the room, with a wide smile on his face

“Our dragons are mating, isn’t that appropriate?”, he teased

“Jace?” you looked back at Cregan who was smirking, “what are you doing here?”

“Your family usurped my mother’s throne, I think you have to make us up for it”, he teased. YOu whimpered, looking at him wide eyed 

You watched the Northerner army march south, from the Lord of Winterfell’s rooms, against your family, you were so worried tears welled in your eyes, as you touched your five moons old baby bump

More notes: Well, technically he didn’t promise her anything hehe, I don’t know if it was THAT dark, but even though we haven’t met Cregan yet, I can’t picture him being cruel and very dark with a lady… anyways… hope you liked it noonie! ❤️

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

-

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,�� he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

-

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[daniclaws02]

“Leave”

Gojo+male reader(he/him)

Warnings: gojos pov, reader is shorter then gojo(if your not short pretend your atleast an inch.),angst,gojo was too late,suicide,reader has a bruise on his face,reader is in a abusive relationship, breaking the fourth wall it, switches povs to (y/n),(y/n) getting beat up like bad, no happy ending .

—•— —•— August 1st 5pm location:coffee shop.

(Y/n)….(Y/n) (l/n) was his name, I met him not to long back when I was on a mission I was very intrigued by him I’d say he peaked my interest which surprised myself. His skin, his eyes, his lips, his nose, his whole face was just perfect in a way I could not describe, but he always had a bandage or an injury on his face. He never told me why-he never told me anything about himself or his relationship which I’m not gonna nag him about since he seems like a person that would be put in a lot of pressure.

Me and him were at a coffee shop he said he wanted to talk to me about something, of course I wouldn’t decline his offer so here we are now sitting across from each other. He was drinking a small coffee that was steaming hot as I had strawberry cake, I took my fork and stabbed the strawberry on the top of the cake as i then put the whole thing into mouth tasting the sweet and sour of the strawberry, I couldn’t say it was the best I had but it wasn’t the worst. Then (Y/n) speaks “I asked you here because I wanted to talk about something…personal.” He mumbles the last word, I lean a bit slouching in my chair a bit getting comfortable ready for the ride he was gonna take me on.”Speak your mind.” I say smirking not ready for what I was about to hear it took a dark turn I would say.

He huffs getting ready to speak his voice sounded a bit dry since he hadn’t drunk his coffee, I hadn’t notice it at first but his lip was a bit bruised it blended in pretty well with his lip, his lips were definitely chappy. He seemed anxious like he didn’t want to say anything I tried my best to make him more comfortable, but I don’t think it was helping. After a few seconds more he speaks his voice raspy and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I never told anyone this..and I wasn’t planning on it but I guess I could trust you.” Man was I in for a treat.

He then looks down maybe looking at his covered knees as his clothes were baggy. “I don’t tell most people about my relationships because they don’t need to hear about it but…sometimes..I’m just scared to.” He kept on pausing throughout his sentences it made me more impatient though I dont want to seem like an asshole so I let him pause as long as he wanted. Then he continued “but I am in a relationship ..one I want to leave from..but I’m just scared of what’ll happen if I do..” he says making me feel anxious as my palm was resting on my cheek, but the more I grew impatient the more they dug into my skin. “I’ve been in this relationship for quite some time..and I never told a soul. Not that I don’t want to..he just..won’t let me.” I’m so intrigued but I just don’t know how to keep my mouth shut, so I ask him out curiosity “who is he” I can’t be the only one that’s asking that, I mean if you were in my situation you would want to know to. I definitely made him more anxious then he even is cause he sat there and paused.

“I’d rather not say…” he says quietly, now I feel bad as he finally lifts his hand and grabs onto his coffee. I took in notice of his hand it was shaking not to hard maybe shivers when your cold. He slowly puts it to his mouth taking the tiniest sip, it was like he drunk a rain droplit. He put the coffee cup down a little thud heard from the impact of the table and cup meeting. He then slowly takes his hand and points at his lip more pacifically to the bruise that blended in like foundation “this..” he then wipes under his eyelid ruffly, then showing a brown and purple bruise, he covered it well cause I didn’t even notice it myself “and this…it was all him, this isn’t even half of what he’s done” (Y/n) speaks aggressively but so quiet and soft only from a distance you could hear him.”I keep it a secret everyday, endearing the pain and keeping my mouth shut like I’m his dog who won’t even bark.” He speaks so aggressively but so quietly his eyebrows twitching show a bit of anger.

“I won’t even speak up..more like I ‘can’t’ cause if I do he’ll hit me- and it’s not even a regular hit, he’ll punch me till I beg and cry..he just likes to see pain and I hate it…I hate that he gets what he wants, I hate that no one confronts him..cause brags about hitting me to his little friends..and they all just..laugh like it’s something regular .” (Y/n) speaks more then I ever heard him speak, I was so surprised my glasses were slipping from my nose from the sweat, the sweat of anger I clenched my fist that was in my lap, the one resting on my cheek was digging into my skin like a needle. (Y/n) was breathing a little hard maybe from anger from not speaking up but finally he does it and fills like hitting something, or someone.

(Y/n) speaks again. “He doesn’t even pretend he’s a good person, he doesn’t put on a font in-front of people or his parents, he’ll just sit there and talk back like he doesn’t have any home training..and he’s such a mommas boy- his mom doesn’t even care she thinks it’s all my fault.” Not even surprising that his mother would take his side just disgusting behavior.(y/n) then breathes in out closing his eyes letting on the coffee smells come into his nostrils and blow them out like wind as he calms himself down. “Thank you..” he says..talking to me. “You listened to me ramble on like a little child..” he says I couldn’t find the words to talk back as I just nod sitting up frowning something that’s so uncommon for me, but my stomach what twisting-if I’d hear anymore I think I’d throw up.

“I hope we can meet again some day” he then scoots his chair back and then standing up his hands clasped together in front of him as he bows “I’m sorry I didn’t finish my coffee..I think I lost my appetite.” Same here.

He the walks out the coffee shop the heals of his shoes clicking against the wooden floor, as he walks the opposite way we came in. I sit there bewildered and disgusted still registering what I’ve heard and what I’ve seen, it’s not very common for me to act like this. As I rub the temples of my nose I get up and I pay the bill, I was ready to go home and take a nice hot shower and forget about most things in life.

—•— —•—

[(y/n) pov]

I was walking home to my apartment as I had just told the gojo satoru about my relationship, it was a bit later now, maybe 6 or 7 I didn’t know and I could really careless. I was just happy that I could finally break free..or maybe I just needed someone so I could vent to them since it was going to be my last day on earth. But before I go I want to see gojo satoru again I want his face to be the last face is see.. I want to see him an hour before my death..I know it’s selfish but I don’t care.

Walking home is such an hassle when ride the bus but I want to see the a beautiful view before I so I change my mind I won’t be waking straight home, even though I might get in a lot of trouble for coming in late it’s better then to see a trashy man and a trashy house.

My walk was probably more then 30 minutes as I wanted to get the best view a view I’ve seen as a child, I want it to be a nostalgia memory before I go, as I walk up the hill my shoes stepping on the crunchy grass as I did as a child I want to cry. I will cry. This will be my last cry before I go.

I look ahead as I get higher and higher up the hill filled beautiful flowers I used to put in my mothers hair. As I grab on putting in my hair. This will be my last core memory of my mother before I go.

I then get to the top of the hill sitting on the edge my feet dangling, though I won’t be dying here it would be a nice way to die but I think I want to die in my first ever house, which is we’re the man I hate the most is. I don’t want to think about that as I look to see the beautiful sky mixed with the most warm colors the breeze blowing at my face as I just look and cry.

I then take out my cell phone as I said I wanted to see satoru gojo before i go. I tried calling but no answer so I decided to text him for him to meet me an hour before I go.

9am

Time goes go fast, I tried waiting but I don’t think I could wait any longer I get up from my spot as my feet had fallen asleep I stumbled a bit but I quickly controlled my balance..the walk wasn’t far from home so I’ll be there in a about 30 minutes the person I hate the most won’t be home till 10 so I’ll have time, I guess maybe gojo satoru was the one I saw last but I wanted to sit with him the hill not vent to him.

I get home finally walking up the apartment building stairs as I reach into my pocket to grab my spare key, finally going through the long dusty stairs I make it to my apartment door fiddling with the lock finally turning it and opening the door quietly looking in front of me to see…him.

Him as in the man I hate the most, him as the abuser, him as in the reason I want die.

I look at him as my heart drops to the floor then I look at the clock on the wall ticking loudly in my ear as it seemed to appear at 10:20 I thought it was about 9 I hadn’t checked my phone since then, since I had texted gojo satoru. I looked in front of me to see him standing there with his arms crossed I could tell he was angry he was clenching his fist. At that moment I wanted to run away at the moment but I was so shocked and paralyzed that I couldn’t move.

He then walks up to and punched me right in my face. I couldn’t react it was fast and hard and I was on the floor my nose was bloody from one punch he then gets on top of me, his knee piercing into my stomach as I could barely breathe. He then repeatedly punched me like I was some punching bag my vision was blurry as I could see thing twice, my ears were busted from hits to my ear a bit of blood dripped since he was very loud and screaming I couldn’t hear a word he spoke though. Next thing I know I can’t feel anything…I just felt free.

—•— —•—

[gojo satorus pov]

How did I get here I was now standing over a body that was covered with white blanket and it was his it was (y/n)…I didn’t want to say his name it felt disgusting and it was all my fault if I just had gotten there in time maybe I would have saved him maybe it wouldn’t be his dead body but that motherfuckers body, I couldn’t look down if I down I would see his white clothed body as I look around seeing a bunch of his neighbors..that wouldn’t help him they all disgusted me truly I felt like throwing up looking at there faces.

I finally get my eyes on the culprit seeing him being tazed and beat by the police, he deserved more pain, he deserves the most gruesome most painful most horrible death, it should be slow and painful for what he had did. I cried. I cried because I’m tired of people dying on me I’m tired of everything if only…if only I would have came-I didn’t come because I couldn’t look at (y/n) after what he had told me I would just think of him being beat and abused…

I finally looking and I just..I just throw up from how disgusting I am. As a officer came up and helped me down and he asked me questions I could only nod if anything I just wished I was there.

—•— —•—

[scarltzwitch]

UNEXPECTED CONFESSIONS — WADE W. WILSON.

PAIRING: Wade Wilson x Howlett!OFC.

SUMMARY: After an overwhelming battle against Cassandra Nova, the Howlett family tries to settle into Wade's universe. You feel pressured by your sister, Laura, to talk to him. Overwhelmed, you step out onto the balcony, where Wade follows you and, in a moment of sincerity, confesses his feelings for you. Surprised, you realize that you feel the same way. The encounter ends in a kiss, marking the beginning of an unexpected and special relationship, observed and supported by your small family.

WARNINGS: Bad jokes. Amateur writer.

So, here’s the problem. You feel something for Wade Wilson, the best friend of the variant of your real father, Logan Howlett. Just like the rest of your small family (both Laura and Logan), you were an experiment called "X-15," created through Logan's DNA. After Charles and Logan died, you were left in Laura's care, but that didn’t stop the TVA from taking you both to the Void once they saw you were no longer useful. You had lost all hope, but thanks to Laura's long walks through the woods, you found a new reason to climb out of that dark place.

Now, you were in Wade's small apartment, where you had decided to organize a little family reunion after a long trip to what would be your new home. You were grateful for the new opportunity Wade was giving you in his universe. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear Laura calling your name.

“Hey, are you listening, or are you thinking about Wade again?” your younger sister whispered in your right ear, hoping that her father or Wade himself wouldn’t hear her. But that ended up being in vain because both of them looked up at you.

“Me? Thinking about Wade? You're crazy,” you replied nervously. “Why? Why do you ask?” you said, trying to relax while holding Dogpool in your arms, who was playing on your lap.

“It’s obvious on your face that you want to talk to him, why don’t you try?” Laura whispered to her older sister while grabbing Dogpool's paws.

“Just shut up, will you?”

Fed up with Laura’s insistence that you talk to Wade, who was happily chatting with Vanessa, his ex, you turned to her with a serious expression. “I’m going to get some fresh air, don’t get in the way,” you said quietly, leaving the puppy with her, grabbing your coat, and heading out to the balcony of the apartment, ignoring the others’ stares, looking for a bit of peace away from Laura’s tormenting questions.

You leaned on the railing, enjoying the fresh air as it brushed your face while you tried to calm your thoughts. You were so lost in your reflections that, despite your ability to hear the slightest sound, you didn’t catch the approaching footsteps. Feeling a presence behind you, purely by instinct, you turned around, revealing your sharp claws in defense mode, ready to protect yourself.

You turned so quickly that you barely had time to process who was there before your claws gleamed in the sunset light. Wade stopped in his tracks, raising his hands in surrender, with that mischievous smile you couldn’t help but find charming, though you wouldn’t want to admit it.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy, Tigress,” he said, slowly lowering his hands. “It’s just me, the handsome guy who was in there chatting with his new friends. It’s not a big deal, right?”

You lowered your claws and looked at him with a mix of surprise and annoyance. “What are you doing here, Wade? I thought you were busy with Vanessa.”

Wade took a step closer, his gaze softening as he observed the unease in your eyes. “And miss the chance to be alone with you in a romantic scene that the readers would enjoy? Even I’m not that dumb.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help a small smile. “Always so dramatic.”

“It’s one of my charms,” he replied, tapping his chest. Then his tone changed, becoming more serious. “Listen, I know Laura’s been bugging you to talk to me, and I know I’m not the ideal guy. But… I don’t want you to keep thinking that everything is a joke to me.”

The sincerity in his words surprised you, a side of Wade he rarely showed. You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What I’m trying to say,” he continued, nervously scratching his neck, “is that… I care about you. More than I thought possible for a fool like me. And I know I’m a mess, but when I’m with you, everything seems to make more sense.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t common for Wade to be so open with his feelings, and the tenderness in his voice made you lower your guard completely. Before you could think of a response, he took another step closer, narrowing the space between you.

“What I’m trying to say, and I’m doing it horribly, is that I like you. A lot. And I’d love to know if maybe, just maybe, you feel the same.”

The vulnerability in his gaze disarmed you. You took a deep breath, stepping toward him, closing the remaining space between you. “Wade… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice soft but firm.

He smiled, that radiant smile he rarely showed, reserved only for special moments. Without saying another word, he leaned in, and you closed your eyes, feeling his lips meet yours in a kiss that was sweet, tender, and full of all the emotions you both had been holding back.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, leaving the two of you lost in that instant, where nothing else existed but the warmth of one in the other’s arms. When you finally pulled away, Wade rested his forehead against yours, whispering softly, “I never thought someone like you could like someone like me. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “I think we have a lot to learn from each other, Wade. But I’m willing to try.”

He nodded, and in that moment, you knew that things between you were changing, for the better. Wade took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, both of you enjoying the shared silence, knowing there was no rush for what came next.

You were so focused on each other that you barely noticed the soft click of a shutter. A sudden flash surprised you both, and you turned your heads to see your small family group gathered at the window, smiling and holding a camera.

“That’s going straight to the familiar album!” Yukio commented with a knowing smile, clearly delighted for her friends.

Wade let out a soft laugh, not letting go of your hand, while you couldn’t help but blush a little. “Well, I guess it’s not a secret anymore,” he murmured, looking at Yukio with a mix of amusement and gratitude. But instead of being upset, the presence of your friends and their support made you feel more secure, as if that moment was even more special, shared with those who mattered the most to you.

“Why don’t we make that picture worth it?” you said, turning your attention back to Wade, your eyes sparkling with complicity. He smiled, understanding the invitation, and kissed you again, this time with a little more confidence, knowing that, whatever happens, you weren’t alone in this anymore.

--------------------------------------------------

[ @nikkicloudie ]

Hi, hi! I'm really, really sorry for the delay, but here’s the Wade Wilson x Howlett!Reader one-shot. I hope you enjoy it!

— XOXO, LILY.

[xuchiya]

baker's secret ingerdient {k.yeosang}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The rhythmic thwack of Yeosang's whisk against the metal bowl was a familiar soundtrack to his mornings at Cafe Love. Flour dusted his apron like a badge of honour, a testament to the countless pastries he'd brought to life within these walls. But lately, the melody of his baking had a discordant note – the growing number of disappointed sighs as customers learned his signature croissants were sold out yet again.

Seonghwa, the manager along with the food decor, were concerned about the head baker and the pressure. Seonghwa approached the flour covered man, “Yeo …”

“I don’t need help hyung …” Seonghwa feels bad that Yeosang can’t express his burden yet he understood from the dark circles underneath his eyes, the hunch of pressure on his shoulders. Seonghwa glanced at the lady at the corner, looking at them with a frosting on her cheeks. 

Seonghwa sighs, “I’ll look for a way.” 

Yeosang prided himself on his creations, each croissant a delicate masterpiece – flaky, golden, and bursting with buttery goodness. But the demand had become overwhelming, for days that turned into weeks that it became too much for him that he finally broke down with Seonghwa about his pressure and in need of help.

     He needed an assistant, someone who could share the burden and the joy of baking.

The double door of the kitchen chimed, announcing a new arrival. Yeosang glanced up, expecting Seonghwa with another piece of bad news. Instead, a young woman with eyes as bright as blueberries stood hesitantly by the counter. Her hair, the color of melted chocolate, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

  "Can I help you?" Yeosang asked, his voice cold despite the flour dusting his nose that makes him soft and warm.

The woman stammered, "I, uh, saw the sign about the baker assistant position. Your manager told me to head here since today will be a little more crowded than usual, and don’t worry, I love to bake!"

Intrigued, Yeosang wiped his hands on his apron, approaching the woman with left eyebrow raised,  "Love to bake, huh? Let's see what you've got then." He led her to another table, just across his, a haven of flour sacks and the intoxicating aroma of sugar and butter. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

  "This place is amazing!" You exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. Yeosang gave her a neutral look. "Tell me that, when you can handle 24 pieces of croissant, 20 pieces of brioche and 10 blueberry muffins."

You grinned, placing your shoulder bag down, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows; tying the complicated apron around you, "Challenge accepted."

The following hour was a flurry of activity. Flour flew, butter creamed, and the air filled with the comforting scent of baking. Yeosang watched intently as you handled the dough with surprising dexterity. Your movements were quick and confident, belying her initial nervousness yet there was something itching on Yeosang as he watched you knead the dough. 

“You’re hurting your wrist if you keep doing that.” Yeosang shakes his head, approaching the woman. You move to the side to watch him knead the dough easily before removing to the side again to recreate his actions but Yeosang sighs in disappointment making you look down; you were so confident about the things you've been doing and the moment you heard that made your confidence deflate but you have to keep up with the professionalism and continue kneading the dough.

You heard Yeosang sigh once again before you felt presence on your back and a soft grip on the back of your hands as it led you to kneading on his pace. You felt his breath fanning your nape, “This is how I do it so I wouldn’t hurt my wrist.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch, paralyzed, with the close proximity of your warmth against your head baker. Your heart wasn’t also helping with the situation.

“... understood?” Your eyes  widen, looking to your left; having an intense eye contact with Yeosang. Both of your hands halted, just resting each on top of each other. Yeosang had admitted the moment he was kneading the dough with you, your sweet perfume lingering in his nose and your face that was covered in flour.

You both pulled away, looking away from each other as the redness so evident on your faces. Yeosang cleared his throat, clearing the awkwardness, “Continue doing your job.”

They worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic kneading and the satisfied sighs escaping the oven as a new batch emerged. Finally, Yeosang pulled out a golden brown croissant, its layers impossibly thin and perfectly risen. He held it up for inspection.

You look closely at the croissant, “How is it?” You look at him– at the same time– Yeosang glance at you. Once again, you find yourself in your own world as his eyes trails on your eyes, down to your nose then to your cherry lips then back to your eyes.

You were doing no better as you took notice of his birthmark on his left eye, his lashes resting so perfectly that it made his eyes big and sparkly that you wouldn’t get tired looking at them.

“If you both are gonna kiss, please do it after the rush hour.” You and Yeosang pullaway to see Wooyoung leaning on the door with his arms crossed and playful smirk on his lips. Yeosang nodded, a hint of red on his cheeks, “Yes, of course.”

  The day ended with a success, your smile was brighter than the fresh pastry, turning to your head baker,  "We did it!"

Yeosang couldn't help but return the smile. He'd found his assistant, someone who not only shared his passion but also possessed a talent that rivaled his own.

The afternoon rush was a whirlwind. Customers who'd previously left disappointed walked away with bags filled with warm, flaky croissants, their faces beaming with satisfaction. The pressure lifted from Yeosang's shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie as he and you worked side-by-side, a well-oiled baking machine.

By the time the cafe closed, exhaustion mingled with a deep sense of accomplishment. Leaning against the counter, Yeosang looked at you, another set of flour dusting your cheeks like a baker's badge of honor.

"Welcome to Cafe Love," he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. You grinned back. "Thanks for having me. This is going to be fun."

As they cleaned up, they talked about baking dreams and favorite pastries, their laughter echoing through the quiet cafe. You were wiping your table when you realised how this customer always comes back ordering his pastry with so much adoration.

You spun on your heel, “Uh Yeosang?” Yeosang was busy placing back his utensils but still managed to acknowledge you, “Yes?”

You twist the towel as a sign of nervousness, “Every baker in town has its secret ingredient … Do you happen to have one?” Yeosang pauses, silently placing the last utensil inside the drawer before closing it. He looks up, wiping the cloth on his fingers as he approaches you with big strides. 

Your breath hitch as you watch Yeosang lean on your ears, “It’s something you wouldn't believe even if I told you." He stops just short of your ear, his voice a low murmur sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his breath tickle your neck."But maybe, I can show you sometime."

You were slightly confused until Wooyoung came barging into the kitchen with his enthusiastic smile, “Hey love birds! Seonghwa wants to have a drink for another successful week for us, so if you guys are finished come outside.” You nodded, placing the rag inside your apron, “Of course, thank you Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung winks at you, “Anything for you, darling and anything for this Cafe Love.” You did not question his last statement as you helped Yeosang on the cups before Wooyoung returned back inside again, just sticking his head, “Ahh .. you guys can kiss now.”

“Wooyoung!” Both you and Yeosang exclaimed, making Wooyoung cackle loudly before exiting the kitchen, “Oi~ Benvolio, take this chance man.” Yeosang chuckles at Wooyoung, hushing him.

“Benvolio? From Romeo and Juliet?” You question, Yeosang nodded, “He named me after Romeo’s cousin, for no reason.” 

You pouted, thinking about the tragic love story, “From what I remember, Benvolio is like someone who tried to mediate the conflict between the families, and he was also the reason Romeo and Juliet got together. He's the nicest character that I have observe, he deserves someone to be love, you know.” 

Yeosang looks at you, intrigued. He does not know much about the tale but it somehow matches what he did to Wooyoung and to his lover though, Yeosang helps Wooyoung to do the first move in talking; he and Wooyoung aren’t close as being blood related hence cousins.

But Yeosang didn’t mind much of it and continued doing his work. Yeosang knew then that Cafe Love wasn't just about the delicious treats; it was about the connections forged over shared passions and the joy of creation. And with you by his side, the symphony of baking at Cafe Love was about to get even more beautiful.

Yeosang glance at the old worn out book, it was closed but he knew inside those were the secret ingredients of creating a pastry full of love. It was a book given by Wooyoung’s significant other, Wooyoung’s long lost Juliet.

Yeosang had seen how his best friend fell in love and experienced love. So he made an oath that not every single soul will experience love not only through emotions but through food.

Yeosang smiles, looking over at you, his smile brightens and extends, “Benvolio is indeed a nice person to deserve himself a beautiful lover in this life.”