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deadghosy · 2 months

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Ive just been reading your Lucifer big sister headcanons, and thier so so so so good, i love how you wrote it🥰. What about Lucifer with a little sister? Any thoughts? How different would he treat her? Maybe she fell at the same time as him and Lucifer blames himself for leading his sister down the same path as him. I can seen him being a protective older brother because come on their in hell surrounded by sinners its got to be stressful even tho she isnt weak what so ever but Lucifer can help but baby his sweet little sister.

(Obviously no pressure to write this)

Have a nice day 😁👋

As a younger sibling, I was gonna make this as I made the elder sister! So I’m glad you asked this as I can’t help but love to make this version. 🦆 sorry if it’s long, I just had fun making this🔥

YOUNGER SISTER! READER X PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: you are the younger sister of Lucifer Morningstar who fell along her older brother.

Dead ass you fell on top of Lucifer when you both fell from heaven.

“Groannsss….GET OFF!” Lucifer yells pushing you off him. You huffed getting off him as you dust yourself.

I headcannon reader to have a slight rebellious attitude sometimes like Adam but she’s not as terrible.

Like reader has a shirt that says “kiss my ass” with a kiss mark on the shirt as she puts up a rock gesture 🤟

Lucifer found your shirt and burned it, he can’t have his baby sister have such an inappropriate shirt!

“LU-LU! NOOO MY SHIRTTT” “THIS SHIRT IS NASTY LITTLE SIS!-”

He put his hand to your face to keep you away as he burned it. It was a funny sight as you huffed kicking him in his nuts as he groaned falling face first to the ground.

I also headcannon that reader is the reason why Charlie had a emo phase as reader kinda has a different aesthetic than Lucifer.

But on a serious note, Lucifer was kinda scared when you fell with him as he puts his hand through his hair watching you sleep. He couldn’t believe he brought his baby sister with him on his down fall. He knew he influenced you as you looked up to him more than the other angels. It was like if you were his child, his baby.

But he tucks you in bed as you were sprawled out in your bed snoring loudly. He chuckles kissing your head and leaving your room as he closes your door with a slight sad look.

Back to the funny sibling things, you are definitely the one who sneaks in the kitchen to take his leftovers for payback. After Lucifer walks out of his workshop tired and hungry.

You basically told him to take care of himself more. He walked in the kitchen to find his leftovers gone. So you could tell what happened next.

“Y/NNNNN!” You heard a fierce yell as you had shoved the food down your mouth and ran as you heard a loud flapping of wings behind you. “WHEN I CATCH YOU, YOU BETTER PRAY!”

It’s was so cartoony at how Lucifer chases you while you ran for you life. You have wings but he flys better than you so it’s no use.

He caught you, making you cook dinner for a month as you groan while he smirks patting a duck like a mafia man. “And you better wash the dishes too-” “NOW YOU ASKIN' TOOO MUCHHH!”

But soon the sinners came and made the freedom Lucifer gave them, turn into pure hell as you watch worried at the stress your older brother had. Lucifer tries to smile to show you it’s not affecting him, but it is.

He soon makes you stay all time in the palace, scared for your safety as you stay in your room worried at how isolated he soon becomes. Charlie would walk around babbling about you as she kept your company. You smile at your cute niece giving her boops to her nose.

I also headcannon you and Lucifer are like secret twins as you both hyper fixate about a lot of things like [favorite thing] as he hyper fixates on ducks and gives you his ducks to show off how cool he is as your older brother.

But also I can see reader being shorter than Lucifer, like to his shoulder as Lucifer blinks like a frog as you smile with an evil gremlin ready to stab someone.

But now for some overprotective brother headcannons.

You know how Lucifer when to see Charlie at her hotel, you joined wearing basically a female version of Lucifer’s outfit. But you wore shades to off your ✨coolness✨

Alastor was irritated at your louder personality but you also had a charming aura around you like how Lucifer has his prideful smile. Alastor smirks down at you as you are shorter than Lucifer, he kisses your hand with made you just stand there with a dotted blank expression.

Immediately Lucifer picks you up like a doll as he growls at Alastor like a dog ready to chump his hand off. He knew the radio demon just wanted to piss him off, so the whole time you were in the hotel with him. He always has you close and behind him from the radio demon.

Now if it was a sinner trying to court you, they better hope you don’t snitch like the young sibling you are. Cause ohhhh boy! Lucifer is teleporting to their house to give them nightmares. Maybe even killing them if they made you uncomfortable.

Heaven and hell agrees you are a cutie, demon or angel. Cause in heaven there were angels trying to court you but your brother was always behind you looking stern as he puff his chest trying to see if they suit you best.

Like literally he scares people off as you stand there minding your business.

“I feel a disturbance in the air…” Lucifer says as he was reading a book but pulls the curtains to see an angel trying to court you with their wings.

Immediately you’re being teleported to your room confused as a duck poofs in your hand.

“What the fuckkkk….” You say confused

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #platonic Lucifer Morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #younger sister #young sibling activities #sister reader #young readers #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x platonic!reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel x you

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maitadori · 1 year

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WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER sfw jing yuan x afab!reader

word count : 1.1k

content / cw : fluff, suggestive, making out, smug and teasing jing yuan, cutie yanqing

summary : being the general’s secretary is such a piece of work. why does he insist on getting handsy instead of doing his job? or: in which jing yuan has fallen for his emotionally constipated assistant and your lips look too inviting.

a/n: DISCLAIMERRR!!!! as a poc with melanin, whenever i describe the reader’s face as “hot” that is up for interpretation, it doesn’t necessarily mean i’m saying your cheeks are red. just wanted to put that out there have this piece until i can try to conjure up ideas for weak willed cloud knight mwah mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!

“general.” you enter the room with a stack of papers in hand, trying your best not to groan when you already see a pile of undone documents sitting there. you expected as much, yet you still sighed in disappointment every time.

your general— who was on the verge of falling asleep— immediately perks up at the familiar click of your shoes as you walk into his office.

“[name], you’re here,” he sighs out, almost fondly. you ignore it in favor of giving him a scolding look.

“you haven’t done a thing since i left this morning, general. do i need to hold your hand through every single file?” your eyes are fierce and your mouth is molded into a frown. jing yuan can’t help but savor your features despite that.

in response to you, he mutters out wistfully, “maybe you do.”

you roll your eyes and set down his papers, right next to the other stack. “general, you can’t keep slacking off like this. lady fu xuan might sweep your position from right under your nose if you keep this up.”

“does that mean i get to spend all of my free time with you?” he ignores your words in favor of bringing you in by the waist. you grip his wrist and try your hardest to pry it off of you.

“don’t you do that already?!” your expression is flushed and he revels in it. even though you try to act and look angry, he notices the subtle way you lean into him.

he reels you into him, bringing you around his desk to where he’s sitting behind in his chair, making you stand between his legs. you’re tugged into his chest and you stop yourself from toppling into his lap by hastily pressing your hands against his collarbones.

“general! you are so inappropriate!!” your tone is scolding.

jing yuan sighs, a faux look of sorrow painting his features, “didn’t i tell you to call me jing yuan?” his voice has a small adoring tone to it, something that you don’t feel like digging deep into at the moment, aware of what you might uncover.

“didnt i tell you that’s improper of me? i’m your subordinate. what would people think if i called you by your given name? they’d suspect you favor me.” you shook your head in exasperation, sighing once more— you seemed to do that a lot in his presence.

“but you are my favorite, if they suspected anything of the sort they’d be absolutely correct,” he says, tugging on your formal wear. you stammer, putting your hand over his in a feeble way to stop him.

“could you shut up for once?!” you exclaim, yet in a whispery voice in fear of others who walk by hear.

“hmm?” he asks slyly, a smirk curling his lips.

“d—do your damn work! if you do, i promise to call you by your name.” by your face expression, jing yuan could tell this is taking a lot out of you and you’re extremely embarrassed. he would feel bad if he didn’t find you so adorable.

“will you let me kiss you, too?” he leans up into your lips.

“that’s definitely asking for too much!!!” you exclaim, face hot, and no longer worried about who might be outside this door.

but as he rubs circles into the fabric of your clothing, his breath hitting your cheeks, his lips nearing yours by the moment, your will is beginning to falter. before you can even realize what you’re doing, your eyes are slipping shut as your hands are sliding up to his shoulders.

“after this i’ll do my work, okay? i promise,” jing yuan whispers. from that alone, you’re nearly broken out of your trance, but before a word is able to leave your mouth his lips lock with yours.

he’s humming into the kiss, showing his obvious satisfaction. your face is warm and you reciprocate the kiss eagerly, almost embarrassed by the fervor.

you were really kissing your general.

he was nibbling your lips, pinching your waist to get access to your mouth, making your mind mush. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

jing yuan is stealing the breath straight from your lungs, and they’re replaced with breathy whimpers. his tongue is leaving no place in your mouth untouched, but by then, you’re already putty in his hold.

you can’t conjure up a single coherent thought, all protests from before becoming blurred and pushed to the back of your mind. his hand is at the seams of your top, his cold fingertips ghosting under it to ease his hands onto your warm skin. you shiver in anticipation.

his thumb rubs your waist before it slowly trails up to the fringe of your bra. he’s caressing the skin under it slowly, building you up for the moment his hand ventures under. you’re leaning into him further, trying to subtly goad him into giving in.

he smirks into the kiss, thumb sliding under the hem. but a loud, eager knock makes you both jolt apart.

before you can even comprehend the situation fully, you’re already backing away from him and adjusting your clothing, smoothening everything over.

jing yuan is watching you fondly, a tinge of smugness swimming beneath his eyes.

“state your name and business.” he calls out, eyes still on you.

“it’s yanqing, sir!”

you’re making eye contact with him now, your expression filled with flushed fury. “i cant believe you!” you whisper shouted before grabbing the small hand mirror that yanqing left on his desk to check your appearance.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets once you catch sight of your swollen lips. “y—you..! how— i..!!! ugh!!!” you sputter, pointing between yourself and your general before giving up.

your general does nothing but chuckle at your misery. “i got too carried away.”

“don’t you always!?” you growl, your finger against your lips as you somehow try to get rid of the red puffiness.

“general?” yanqing calls from outside.

due to your conversation, you both nearly forgot he was even there.

before jing yuan could call him in, you’re stalking towards the door. your hand grabs the handle, but before you pull it open, you look back to your general who’s smirking. “you better do your work, jing yuan. or this will never happen again!” you both sensed the lie in your tone, but one of you was too surprised to point it out.

you were only given a mere second to revel in his baffled look before you walked out, letting yanqing in.

“[name]!” yanqing calls happily. “can i come over to your place tonight?” he asks, face glowing.

you smile, patting his head. “of course you can. i’ll cook your favorite too, alright?”

yanqing cheers, “alright!! i’ll train as hard as i can, so can you please make dessert too?”

you give him a noise of confirmation, smiling at his joy before you’re walking off.

jing yuan could only watch the scene in envy, glaring down yanqing as he practically skips into the office humming a tune of “[name]’s making me dessert~”.

yanqing turns to his general, brow quirking at his troubled expression.

“what got your panties in a twist?”

“nothing.” he grits out. you had the audacity to call him by his name in your beautiful alluring voice, and invite yanqing to your house, in front of him!! next time he saw you it was more than your lips he was taking for his own.

a/n : anyone wanna be added to my jing yuan taglist? he’s been growing on me a lot so expect more of him too ^v^

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #assistant!reader #🃏; saturn.writes

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loveinhawkins · 25 days

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picturing Eddie first meeting Dustin and thinking yeah, he knows how this goes: he’ll be a larger than life, comical figure in this kid’s life for, like, not even a year before he leaves Hawkins High in the dust.

And sure, Dustin is, like, ridiculously endearing even when he’s being a cocky little shit in campaigns, and that suits Eddie just fine, ‘cause he can be a cocky little shit at the best of times, downright obnoxious really, he thinks—a part of him’s never outgrown the juvenile, no matter how many times he repeats senior year.

Plus Dustin is crazily good at solving riddles, so Eddie’s remaining months leading Hellfire are definitely gonna be a fun challenge.

Then March comes.

And Eddie’s shaking apart in a boathouse, seeing impossible, terrible things on a loop in his head, Chrissy, Chrissy, God no, please, and Dustin’s there, with a wisdom far beyond his years, calmly leading him out of the dark.

Eddie half expects it to be a trick, but no. Dustin Henderson believes him.

You don’t know me, Eddie wants to say.

But there’s a constant defiance in Dustin’s expression, even when he’s clearly trying to keep things light and breezy, there’s nothing to worry about! Like he’s just daring for Eddie to contradict him.

There’s something assured in how the kid does things, Eddie thinks. He can see how the years of all this shit have shaped him, have him flitting between maturity and earnestness: something born from a childhood that’s not been lost, just altered.

He watches Dustin walk with Steve Harrington in the woods—can read the shared history and fondness hidden in between layers of snark; they’re family, he knows that without a doubt.

What trips him up is that Dustin keeps looking back, keeps drawing him back into the group with complaints that he’s walking too slow, and his eyebrows are raised meaningfully, like he’s really saying that there’s room for Eddie here, too.

And Eddie doesn’t know how to convey the sudden gratitude he feels closing up his throat—feels too jittery still, too raw to do anything justice.

He keeps close when Dustin tears off through the woods, heart in his mouth as the night darkens, Dustin, can you slow down? Dustin!

He pulls Dustin back from the lake’s edge just in time, then feels Steve’s watchful eyes on him—spots a flicker of approval, like he’s passed some sort of test.

And that feeling only grows the longer he’s around Steve, lying through his teeth in The Upside Down, I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, and Steve’s giving him this knowing sideways glance, like maybe they’re something of the same; Eddie feels a sudden, unexpected rush of joy at the thought, dancing in and out of Steve’s space, still super jealous as hell, by the way.

“I told you, right?” Dustin says, grinning widely as Steve drives them out of Forest Hills at breakneck speed. “He’s awesome.”

And Eddie feels the fondness of his own smile, feels it right down to his core, because he gets that Dustin’s only being so forthcoming because Steve can’t hear him right now.

Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea.

It hits him then, while roughhousing with Dustin in the grass (a deliberate distraction, trying to make the kids forget about weapons and fire): that he’s never really been the kinda guy who people want to stick around, but now…

Now he’s starting to think that he could be.

Starts to imagine, starts to hope—and that’s huge, something that would’ve seemed impossible mere days ago—as he sees Robin and Nancy laughing at his antics, their weapon-making temporarily forgotten.

They like me, Eddie thinks with wonder, they really like me.

And he wants—sudden and fierce, with all he has—to change the world for them, to make it so Robin Buckley would just be spending spring break watching arty films, dreaming of Paris; so Nancy Wheeler would never need to hide guns in her bedroom, would never have to carry an unimaginable grief.

Steve looks over, too—his laugh carries across the field, and Eddie is caught by the warmth in his eyes; even as Dustin manages to playfully tackle him, he’s still thinking of Steve, and maybe, maybe…

The lightness fades as they go over the plan, but not the emotion: Eddie keeps that tucked away, safe, a promise to himself.

“Uh, are you sure about this?” he says in an undertone to Steve, when it’s first revealed that it’s him and Dustin paired up together.

Steve’s eyes are apologetic, “Sorry, man, I’ve tried every—if there was a way to just, like, sit it out, I’d have—”

“No,” Eddie says urgently, “I mean…” And he points at himself before nodding discreetly to where Dustin is—currently talking up a storm with Erica, something about vents that he can’t make sense of.

“Are you sure?” Eddie presses, trying to put all he’s not saying into the question, I can see how much that kid means to you, I’ve known him, like, six months, Harrington, that’s nothing, why, why do you—

Steve shakes his head. A little smile breaks through his concern. “Yeah, of course,” he says, like it’s nothing.

But Eddie can feel the weight of it. A passing of the torch.

And he doesn’t know how to put what he’s feeling into words: that, apart from Wayne, he’s never really allowed people in, never allowed them to matter like this.

As they drive back to the Creel House, as time runs out and nerves build, he tries to show everything he can’t say; he helps Nancy take stock of supplies, offers Robin his shoulder so she can sleep, and he knows that’s not enough, barely scratches the surface, but it’s all he’s got.

He sits in the back of the RV, watches Steve, tense and silent in the driver’s seat, and knows with certainty what his mission is: get Dustin Henderson safely back home.

And no, Eddie doesn’t know how any of this is gonna go.

But he can hope.

He can try.

#the dynamic between them all makes my heart ache. just working through some thoughts ❤️#eddie and dustin #eddie munson fic #henderfam #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin fic #eddie munson analysis #dustin henderson analysis #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hcs #steddie #eddie and the party #eddie munson ficlet #eddie and dustin ficlet #implied steddie #pre steddie #eddie munson

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g1rlken · 2 months

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obsessed/possessive felix catton 🫣

Oh. Oh absolutely.

Anon you’re so real for this one🤞

Obsessive felix

word count: 1.3k (one shot)

Warnings: the req +sorry if he gets a bit toxic

For someone who grew up with a second pair of everything irreplaceable items were rare for felix. Or people, most relations superficial, nothing money can’t buy. That’s why she was different. He had to work for her, to be noticed to gain her affection. As unusual as it was for him he didn’t mind it.

Before they even started dating, it was difficult for felix to try and get her attention. They had different majors and one friend group in common most of whose gatherings she rarely joined. Occasional weekends here and there. He asked about her around, causality came naturally to him so most didn’t suspect a thing. Her lectures, her schedule, library visits, he memorised it all within a time span of a few days.

Felix would pick up the book she’d be returning at library, at first it was only to get an insight to what she’s interested in. What she reads in order to strike a conversational of coincidentally having same interests. However her long kept book smelt like her fragrance. It made him question his sanity halfway through a book on fluid mechanics if he was trapped by the contents of the book or the scent of her from it, it was the latter.

Much pinning, much accident meetings later they’d finally hit off. From his own past patterns and experiences in romance felix knew he would feel less and less intensely for her once he’d have her. She surprised him. As did himself, his feelings grew much more intensely than decreasing.

He felt wholly consumed by the being of her and it still felt not enough. He wanted to be drenched like the sand by the sea during a storm, he wanted her to be the rays that open his life like the petals of a morning glory flower. Because in one sense she was the answer to his glory, the glory he’s had to work for. One he wanted to announce to the whole world that she was his and the one he wanted to shield from the whole world because she was his. And his only.

She brought a sense of grounded serenity with her, in the morning with her locks softly spilled over his chest as she’d sleep through her first alarm which would evidently wake him up before her but he’d be glad. Because it would result to let him have his most cherished moment, the softest of mornings with her in his arms. The second alarm would only make him hold her tighter, not wanting to let go off her so soon.

One would forgo and turn a blind eye to a lot of things for love, his tender love came at the expense of his intense one as well. Though he was the softest of lovers, with her behind closed doors. It could most certainly be felt being with him however at certain instances it could be accounted for just how fiercely he loved. Aggressive make out sessions at the party, if someone stared at her a bit too long. It got awkward at times, in his lap or against the wall in a crowded dimly lit room. Not for him of course, it could get overbearing at times though. “You always pull something like that!” She complained as they returned from this one party, felix thought his possessive traits were subtle.

“Like what? Like kissing you? My girlfriend?” He questioned with a scoff as he removed his jacket and hanged it on the door hanger inside her dorm room.

“No-but a whole make out session? There were people around!” She complained trying to reason with him, had she felt uncomfortable with it she could’ve told him during it but it wasn’t that. Yet there was something she couldn’t pinpoint or maybe chose not to.

“It was a party” he scoffed as he walked over to her and pulled her closer to him by her waist to pause her whining, “it’s common to make out with your girlfriend at a party.”

She pulled away from his grasp, not wanting to have the firmness of the conversation she was trying to have be dismayed “No it’s always like this, especially at parties. You basically manhandle me the entire time-“

“Manhandle you?” He stopped her midway, scoffing at the sound of her baseless proponent “Really? So dancing with you, kissing you is now manhandling you?”

“It’s not, but your arms around me, kissing my neck, trying to kiss me while I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone that’s so unideal.” She advocated for what she was trying to say, she knew he was always big on physical touch and she never once minded it. However it wasn’t the first time it had happened where she’d try to have a normal conversation with anyone and felix would kiss the nape of her neck as she’d talk, pull her into his lap if she was sitting next to him. Completely disregarding whoever she was conversing with.

“So having a conversation is much more important than being close to me?” He asked, his tone was mild and composure relaxed but he felt border line offended.

“That’s not what I’m saying…” she sighed rubbing her eyes for a second, “you know that’s not how I’m saying it-“

“—Oh no please enlighten me how much of an inconvenience it is if I kiss you in front of other people!” Felix interrupted her.

“We just seem like that obnoxious PDA couple everywhere we go! And it’s not just this party or parties in general-everywhere you just…” she trailed off looking for the right word.

“Suffocate you.” He filled in for her with a scoff and looked away from her crossing his arms.

“No.” She replied firmly “No you just get overbearing. Where does that come from, talk to me.”

“Do you seriously want me to justify myself for wanting to be close to my girlfriend? Do you hear yourself?”

“Do you hear yourself felix!” Exclaiming she sighed regaining her composure, “Its like you can’t stomach the fact that I exist outside of this relationship, why can’t you just commute and tell me what’s your issue?”

“You don’t get it do you?” He let out a dejected scoff and approached closer to her, “it is fucking infuriating to see you paint me out like I’m irrational-I’m not impulsive because I’m madly in love, y/n, I am madly in love with you and I know exactly what I’m doing. To safeguard what we have, after you the most precious thing that’s happened to me is our relationship. We come off as an obnoxious couple? I come off as possessive? Fuck it.” He stated confidently as he took her hands in his, “I care about you, your sense of self and individuality is very dear to me and I’m sorry if you feel otherwise. I’ve never been in this place before where losing someone would worry me but losing you terrifies me to my core. I’m not irrational, I'm maybe rational to the point of obsession. But I am just a man who loves you more than anything in this world.” His gaze never lifted off of her eyes the entire time and he felt a bit surreal having confessed his all-consuming, all-encompassing love for her. There was a sense of vulnerability in being freed of the truth.

“Felix…” she breathed as her gaze softened, his flaws were the same as hers in a different dynamic and he was rough around the edges but now after what he confessed? She saw his love in a different much serious and committed light. Devoted. She looked down at her hands in his and back up at him with a soft smile adorning her face, she didn’t know how else to reply to him so she just leaned forward brushing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. He held held her in his arms lengthening the kiss.

“You’re mine. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to cherish.”

“—Yours.”

#felix catton angst #felix catton x reader fluff #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi x y/n #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x you

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luveline · 1 month

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What about if in Eddie and Roan, Eddie and Reader' are both occupied with wedding stuff or smth else and they left Roan with either Wayne or Steve and Robin, and it's just fluffy fluff about them being the best uncles/grandpa ever?

Roan wraps her arms around his neck. “Why can’t I come?”

Her dad has pretty much always felt like an extension of her. He’s dad. So when she doesn’t get to go places with him that aren't work or school, it doesn’t make sense. She’d care less if Uncle Wayne wasn’t too tired for a slumber party, because her Uncle Wayne is the best uncle ever.

“Baby,” Eddie says, in that soft sweet voice that means she’s being let down easy, “you can’t come because it’s a lot to do in one day, okay?” He encourages her face back. He’s on his knees to be her height, but he’s still taller. “I know you want to come, but it won’t be any fun at all. We have to go argue with people all day. Y/N’s gonna put on her scary mommy pants and I’m gonna have to back her up because she’s my girl.”

Roan just looks at him. Eddie grins.

“Okay, but will you bring me something?” she asks in a whisper.

You laugh where you’re standing in the doorway behind him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

She leans in to whisper in his ear. When she pulls away, he’s squaring his expression into something quite fierce. She’s confident she’ll have what she asks for as soon as he’s home.

You and Eddie kiss her goodbye, hands quick to intertwine as you walk down the driveway, though you take your hand back to wave at her with both hands when you realise she’s waiting on the porch for you to go.

Steve holds her shoulder. “Should we go back inside?”

Roan tips her head back. “Steve…”

“What, babe?”

“Can we get ice cream?”

He holds her gaze. “Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?”

“We have dinner first, and you have to eat two vegetables. Because last time your dad said I’m terrible at looking after you.”

“You’re not terrible,” Roan says, shaking her head vehemently.

Roan offers him her arms and he picks her up. When she was a baby Steve and Robin used to call her Princess Ro on account of her never being put down, but that was usually because she’d been traded from arm to arm rather than her being demanding. She was demanding, of course, she was a baby.

“Thank you, Roan. I know I’m not terrible, your dad just loves giving me a hard time.”

“He does that to me too.”

“He does not,” Steve chastises, “your dad is a great dad. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Me and dad don’t have secrets,” she says.

“I know, that’s why he’s a good dad.” Steve sighs forlornly. “Ew. Let’s be less sincere from now on. What movie do you wanna watch?”

“You have The Little Mermaid?”

Obviously Steve has The Little Mermaid. He plops Roan down on the couch and she balls herself up tightly. Steve thinks she might be a bit grouchy today, but it’s hard to say yet. He tries to nip it in the bud before it can start, wrapping her in the blanket she likes with the soft ends and cutting her a boat load of apples for peanut butter. “Thanks, Uncle Steve,” she says, stretching her legs out over his thigh. Steve squeezes one of her feet until she grumbles and pulls it away. “I forgot you do that.”

Steve laughs loudly. “Do what, babe?”

“You’re like dad. You aga-vate.”

“I do, huh?” he asks, patting her leg. “Sorry. Just teasing.”

“Mom says teasing is okay if it doesn’t hurt your feelings.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You hurt my foot.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing, because he knows it didn’t hurt too much.

“It’s okay. I don’t want feet, I want a fish tail.”

“You do not,” Steve says, squeezing under her knee. She grumbles more and kicks at him, a few of her apple slices sliding off of her plate and onto the blanket. She doesn’t notice.

Robin lets herself in not long after. She’s in sweatpants with her hair up, arms laden with soda and bags of chips. “Hey, Ro,” she says. Even when Roan was a baby, Robin has talked to her like she’s an adult. “You look comfortable. Did you miss me?”

Roan seems to have missed Robin lots —Robin sits down and within twenty minutes has Roan snuggled under her arm, another twenty and she’s giggling sleepily at the murderous chef trying to cook the Little Mermaid’s crab friend.

Steve and Robin are best friends, and great watchers, though it’s much easier to look after a kid when you’re allowed to spoil them. They feed Roan chips and soda (though they aren’t animals, the soda is limited to one small cup, and the chips are before a dinner that includes three different vegetables), and they let her jump on the couch and climb up on the kitchen counter to play with the soap dispenser.

Pick up time comes and passes. Roan sits kicking her feet on the kitchen table, her coat unzippered and her wellies hitting the chair. “Are they late?” she asks.

Steve offers her a slice of orange. “Yeah, babe, it looks like it.”

“Are they gonna never come back?”

“Of course they’re coming back,” Robin says, “your dad has no personality outside of you. He needs you to be happy.”

Roan smiles to herself. “Yes,” she agrees, taking a bite of her orange.

Steve kneels in front of her and pulls the two sides of her jacket together. “Your teeth are orange.”

Roan accidentally drops the orange rind out of her teeth. It rolls down her legs and hits him in the shirt, leaving a greeny tinged stain on his blue polo. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he says, zipping her coat to the collar and brushing her hair back away from her sticky cheeks gently, “I’ll just charge your dad extra.”

“You’re the best, Uncle Steve,” Roan decides.

He strokes her hair behind her ears. “You are the best, Roan. My favourite Munson ever.”

Her eyes light with joy. “Really?”

“Really truly.”

“That’s a bit controversial,” Robin says, clipping Roan’s backpack shut to house what was left of her chips.

“I don’t like Eddie and Wayne doesn’t tell me good job when I wash my hands.” Steve shrugs. “No competition.”

The phone rings. When Robin picks up, she says that it’s Eddie, and Eddie needs to talk to Steve, who, after a short conversation, passes the phone to Roan.

“Dad?”

“Hey, baby! Sorry we’re not there, we went to the wrong place for mom’s hair stuff and it was a disaster, we won’t be home for another hour, I’m sorry. Are you really mad?”

“I'm not really mad.”

“I’m bringing you a present, remember? So can you keep being a good girl for Uncle Steve? No shouting?”

Roan decides this is alright. Eddie tells her he loves her about six times and Roan hands the phone back up because she can’t reach the receiver, letting Steve hang up. She frowns at the floor, her head hanging, dark hair curling in front of her eyes.

“How about we make use of your shoes and coat and go get that ice cream I promised?” he suggests. “Anything you want. You did eat all your vegetables.”

Robin rolls her eyes. Roan slouches sadly into his legs, the beginnings of a smile on her lips when she looks up at him and asks, “Hot fudge?”

“As much hot fudge as you want,” he promises.

#eddie and roan

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perrywrites · 6 months

Text

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during his practice;

NSFW

Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira

Part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Isagi: it’s time for his break during practice, and he’s gulping down water, adam’s apple bobbing as he hydrates himself. He’s loosely aware of your dazed stare as you continue looking at him from the bench, after all you haven’t been very subtle in staring at him throughout practice - and although he could ignore it on field, not so much off of it. He’s still gulping down water, about to go towards you afterwards just for a quick chat, and to ask you why you’ve been staring at him so much, unusually quietly. Then you say something that makes him freeze up, setting fire to his face and nearly killing him in the process. “I want you inside of me…” you mumble that, sighing in a manner as if he had romanced you. The surprise proves near fatal, and he’s choking on his water, turning away from you as his ears burn up fiercely. What? What? Did you actually just say that? Or has he somehow actually gone crazy now? Some sort of brain fatigue? An answer to his unasked question comes in the form of your lighthearted giggle, as you apologize casually for letting your thoughts slip out. That doesn’t do anything to calm the fire heating up his skin, heart thundering throughout his body, especially not when your eyes are still just as dazed when you look up at him, all lovesick and opaque with longing. “You can’t just say that,” he says, voice quiet and strained, face still heavily flushed. You giggle, and tease him a bit more, before he goes back to practice. Except now he can’t focus on anything anymore. All he can think about are your sweet words, that lovesick gaze of yours, and the softness of your plush walls. His mind is failing, and you’ve proven to be a magnificent distraction. The only thing on his mind right now is how badly he wants to sink into you and fuck you hard for even daring to say that outloud. He wants to pin you down and have his way with you, make you so dumb on his cock, fill you up - and oh god. He’s clenching his hands, flexing any muscles in his body that he can, trying to divert the blood away from his cock, because his shorts were starting to feel a little too tight. Fuck, look at what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? You’re not going to be getting away with this, you know that, right? Why did you think it was a good idea to tease him like this during practice, make him want you so badly? Was last night not enough? Just wait until the end of practice. He’ll be pouncing on you with a growl, dragging you somewhere private he can pound some fucking sense into you. Don’t bother trying to run away, you know he’ll catch you.

Hiori: he finds himself raising an amused eyebrow as he walks towards you during his break, noting how you’re still looking at him, all dreamy and dazed, gaze thick with longing. He knows more than well enough the meaning of that stare, your expressions always give away far too much, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he asks you lightly if something’s wrong, taking sips of his water. He freezes before he can go in for a third sip, some water spilling out from the top of the bottle at his sudden pause. Did he hear you right? Did you actually just say that? He blinks, looking at you, and his eyes narrow darkly when he catches that spacey fuzzy look on your face. How do you manage to look so innocent and corruptible despite just saying such a perverse thing? He doesn’t understand it, no matter how many times he thinks about it, but what he does know is how that spaced out look on your face never fails to stir sinful desires within him, cock twitching in his pants as his body heats up. On the surface, he looks calm, as always, nothing amiss - but his eyes are clouded over deeply, and his jaw is tense. You love to test his self-restraint, don’t you? For some reason, when you two first started dating, you seemed to have the impression that he doesn’t yearn, doesn’t have a sexual appetite, and it was amusing for him to prove you wrong again and again, take you by surprise - because every time you’d be befuddled by the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you badly. That’s why you’re capable of saying something so inviting so carelessly, right? Even right now, you don’t know a single thing that’s running through his mind, do you? How he wants to watch your eyes turn all dewy, tears pooling as you whimper and sob out his name beneath him, face flushed and lips quivering, an expression only for him on your face, make you vulnerable and helpless underneath as he loves you to death. He wants to do all of those things and more, make you so weak and useless, cherish you and make you take him until you break. But, he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he smiles impassively, walking over to you as he pats your head, but when he speaks, there’s something veiled in his controlled voice. “Don’t worry, ya only have to wait a little longer, okay?”

Bachira: throughout practice he catches your stare, noting your listless gaze as your eyes follow him run and score across the field. He’s not oblivious, though, he can tell well enough the simmering desire sitting heavy and darkly in your seemingly empty and unthinking eyes. “What’s with that look?” he asks, all toothy smirk and teasing eyes as he drinks from his bottle, eager to badger you during his small water break. But it seems like you’re a little too out of it, feeling a little too bold, because you respond bluntly, murmuring quietly that you were thinking about wanting him inside of you. He’s taken aback at your unintentional provocation, blinking away the shock as he smiles, amused. You really will be the death of him, won’t you? He tries lightheartedly teasing you, asking you what made you so impatient that you couldn’t even wait until you two were alone to tell him this, and when you say that neither of you would be able to resist right now if he got you alone, he damn near loses his mind. He can feel the heat spreading through his body, itching to do something to you as you continue looking up at him all dazed and yearning, and he tells you that exactly so, voice all husky. With a smile as normal as ever, except his eyes are glinting in a way that sends fire down your core. A whimper bubbles up your throat. “I want you to do something to me so badly, you have no clue,” you say, whimpery voice bursting out, and you’ve done it. His eyes darken needily, smile faltering, and he quickly ditches his towel and water bottle; practice be damned. Hand on your arm, he pulls you up and begins lightly dragging you somewhere else, somewhere isolated, somewhere he can fuck you and make you cry so hard on his cock you lose your voice. That’s what you get for tempting him. This is what you want, right? He’ll give it all to you, don’t worry. Just be good and submissive for him, spread those legs for him and leave your body all pliant under his hungry touch. He’ll fill you up, and he’ll keep filling you up until you’re satisfied - or rather, until he’s satisfied. Because you’ve lit a fire in him that you absolutely can’t handle - but don’t worry - he’ll hold you and love you even when you become a babbling mess on his cock, so let him break you apart right now. You’re the one that started it this time anyways, so he doesn’t have to hold back, right?

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #bachira meguru #bllk bachira #blue lock bachira #bachira x reader #bachira smut #isagi smut #blue lock hiori #hiori yo #bllk hiori #hiori x reader #hiori x you #hiori smut

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bangtanflirt · 6 months

Text

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 10)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: slight themes of prejudice/ignorance (against wolf hybrids), some jealousy, brief mention of mxm smut

____

It’s the next night when the hybrids notice the change between you and Yoongi—with wound care being devoid of your fierce gazes and cold, one-word responses. Your gaze is warm now, and so are your words. The two of you work on your respective hybrids in harmony, occasionally asking the other to hand over new gauze or antibiotics.

Jin tilts his head to give better access to his neck, heart rate picking up as Yoongi’s fingers delicately graze his skin. His hands are cold, but Jin finds himself leaning into the touches regardless.

“The wounds look a little better now.” Yoongi softly comments, more an observation to himself than any attempt at conversation. Jin just nods, focusing on not flinching as the ointment stings. The man applying the cream mutters a “sorry” under his breath, trying to get this part over with quick. He’s firm when wrapping the gauze, and Jin can’t help but stare at the fingers maneuvering around his neck—slender and pretty. The oldest wolf gulps, catching himself before his mind starts listing off every other thing pretty about Min Yoongi.

The mood is entirely different when Yoongi gets to Jungkook; the wolf backs away instantly, eyes narrowing in distrust.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. Yoongi and I are fine now.”

It’s not lost on you the way most of them sigh in relief, glad to no longer be caught up in the middle of a cold war.

“Woo! We can finally put the pact to rest.” Taehyung smiles wide.

“Pact?”

“Yeah. We made a pact that we would ice Yoongi out until the two of you made up. It was kind of hard since…you know…we all live here. But we’re loyal,” Taehyung puffs out his chest in pride, “so we all stuck by it.”

Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jin, amused at the way the hybrid shyly ducks his head down. A pact sounded like serious business. No wonder he was anxious about them finding out about that night. Yoongi can’t help but find the shy guilt on Jin’s features adorable.

Just reading together made him such a mess. Why is that kind of cute?

A smile almost peeks its way through the man’s features, but the moment is interrupted by Jungkook’s annoyed tone.

“It’s not about the pact or whatever you two have going on. I just don’t like him.”

The room is pin-drop silent, with you looking the most taken-aback. His voice is coarse and unfriendly, as if it belongs to some new person entirely. It takes you a second before you can figure out what to say.

“Jungkook, Yoongi hasn’t done anything wrong towards you," you proceed tentatively, "You’re being rude. Please apologize.”

The wolf simply rolls his eyes, “I can’t help who I like and don’t like y/n. I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Jimin hyung can replace my bandages later.” He leaves no room for argument.

The rest of the wolves share a knowing look while watching him walk off, but you’re completely in the dark.

“What was that all about? Jungkook’s never acted out like that…is he not feeling okay?”

Namjoon nervously clears his throat, “This is him feeling okay. Jungkook’s never dealt well with people outside of the pack. The hormones wearing off has him putting his guard up again.”

Oh.

“So this is him going back to his usual self?”

They nod, “We’ll get him under control. Don’t worry.”

It had never occurred to you that Jungkook’s real personality would be that much different from him on the hormones. It seems as if you’ve been too naïve.

Namjoon can read your thoughts like an open book, trying his best to find the right words to ease your worries, “Relax. Jungkook’s a bit difficult to win over, but it’s not impossible. He’s still a sweetheart once he lets you in—really lets you in, without the drugs making him.”

You nod, unable to hide your disappointment at the prospect of starting over. As glad as you are that those wretched drugs are losing their hold, it’s not exactly fun to hear you’ll soon be back to zero progress with him. Right now it’s just Yoongi he doesn’t like, but it can’t be that long until those narrow eyes are pointed at you.

“And the rest of you…will it be like that for everyone?” It’s a question you don’t really want to ask, but it’s better to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. Will they all turn into strangers in a few days? If they do start seeing you as a stranger—or worse, an enemy—then how long until things get bloody?

Namjoon scoots over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We all have things different about us off the hormones, but Jungkook is the only one who can get a bit wild. He’s definitely the most different. I can reign him in, though, so don’t worry. We’re not going to be a danger to you.”

Yoongi looks at where you and Namjoon connect with an irked expression, not fond of how close the wolf is sitting.

“How can you guarantee that?” He speaks up, tone borderline challenging, “Just taking your word for it isn’t good enough when we’re talking about y/n’s safety. You’re wolves, after all.”

There it was. Four simple words that had every hybrid shifting uncomfortably.

You’re wolves after all. A statement jam-packed with prejudices they were all too familiar with. They were wolves, so of course they were aggressive and barbaric. Of course.

Namjoon meets the man’s stare, but his own is far more calm. A good Alpha knows when it’s beneficial to pick a fight and when it isn’t, and provoking Yoongi isn’t going to do anyone any good right now. It’s best to deal with reason.

“As many stereotypes as there are about us, wolves do not simply kill or maim for fun. We are not the bloodthirsty monsters all your books and TV shows make us out to be. Hell, even a full-wolf’s response to seeing a human is to retreat. The only reason we would ever be hostile is if you pose a threat, and it’s no secret what kinds of cruel things hybrid owners usually do with wolves.”

Jin nods in the back, adding his own two-cents in, “It’s not fair that we keep getting this bad reputation. I don’t even know why we’re stuck with it—I mean, hyena hybrids are right there! They literally claw faces off the second they see you guys, but no, let’s make the wolves the bad guys in every children’s tale.”

Yoongi backs down at seeing the frustration on Jin’s face, suddenly feeling apologetic for his statement.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. We’re used to it.”

Yoongi’s about to speak again, but you interrupt before he digs this hole any further, “Yoongi’s just being overly cautious for my sake, please don’t take it to heart. I have no doubt that humans have done plenty of wrong to your kind, and I’m sorry that’s how things are. As long as you’re with me, I’m going to go off of what I see, not what anyone else tells me. And so far, what I see are wonderful wolves who have done no harm to me. Namjoon, you seem confident that you can keep Jungkook calm, and I’m going to trust you on that.”

Again, Namjoon’s face lights up at the mention of trust.

“Thank you, y/n. We won’t let you down.”

You smile, getting ready to leave. Yoongi follows, hanging on at the doorframe for a second longer to lock his gaze with Jin’s.

“I didn’t mean to be ignorant. I’m sorry.” And with that, he leaves.

Jungkook comes out from the bathroom moments after, still very much in an irritated mood.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks, treading carefully.

“She took his side over mine.”

“Oh Koo, I don’t think she was trying to take sides.”

“She wanted me to apologize. Why should I apologize? If I don’t like him then I don’t like him.”

Hoseok sighs, motioning for the youngest wolf to sit in between his legs. Jungkook nestles between his hyung’s thighs, back resting against Hoseok’s chest as his arms come to hug his middle, careful not to touch where Tae's claw marks are. Hoseok plants a kiss on Jungkook’s cheek, trying to dull his displeased scent.

Jimin attempts to pick up the conversation when it’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know how.

“Baby, we know how you get around others, but y/n doesn’t. You caught her by surprise.”

“But you guys never make me apologize. You always take my side.”

“That’s because we’re your pack, Koo. Of course we’ll always take your side.”

The words feel like cold water being poured on him, jolting enough to get his thoughts straightened out.

You’re not part of his pack.

He doesn’t know why he fell into a sense of comfort with you…probably the hormones. But you’re not his packmate. And, as Jimin implied, you have no obligation to take his side—and he has no obligation to take yours either.

___

Jungkook doesn’t talk to you at breakfast. Nor at lunch. You don’t attempt to speak to him either—having a feeling that forcing unwanted interaction is just going to push him away. The plan is to wait until he lets you in. It sounds easy, but it’s not. All you want to do is ruffle his soft brown hair and ask him to recap the newest K-drama he’s watching, but you can’t. You watch with longing as he leans into Namjoon’s touch without a moment of hesitation, brown eyes shining up at his Alpha.

I just have to be patient. He’ll come around.

You don’t know if you’re being naïve again, but wishful thinking is all you have going for you.

On the bright side, you and Yoongi are in a good place, and you don’t feel like you’re walking on needles every time you text for an office update. It’s late afternoon when your phone rings, with his name popping up on the screen.

“Hey. How did the 1pm meeting go? Is Rollie all good?”

“Everything went perfectly. We’re good to proceed with funds for Rollie.”

“Thank god. We could not afford to delay that any longer. I’m glad Minhyun got it done swiftly.”

“He only got it done this quick because someone spent her vacation days camping in their financial statements instead of actually enjoying time off.”

“Well, whoever did that sounds like she’s very efficient.”

Yoongi laughs, shaking his head at his desk.

“Any other updates I should know about?”

“There is one thing: Gong Ha-Jun came by earlier today, looking extremely out of it. He kept telling me to tell you he’s sorry and that he really needs this job. I had to rush to my next meeting before I could figure out what that was all about. Do you have any clue?”

“His wife must’ve come clean.”

Yoongi scrunches his brows in confusion, trying to keep up, “Wife?”

“Yeah. You know the art store incident I told you about?”

“With the lady threatening Hybrid Control?”

“Yeah. The lady is Ha-Jun’s wife. I was surprised he didn’t come begging the second after it happened, but it seems it took her a while to tell him. I’ll be processing his termination papers soon, so you won’t have to worry about him bugging you much longer.”

Incredulity replaces confusion as Yoongi scrambles to have you rethink, “Wait, let’s hold on a second. You said you’d try to be more understanding at work.”

“I am being more understanding. I’m quietly processing the papers instead of firing him in front of the whole office like I want to.”

He thinks over his words very carefully, knowing he has to convey his points without threatening your ego.

“Y/n, this isn’t reasonable. What his wife did was out of line, but Ha-Jun is an outstanding employee. He’s even up for a promotion in his department.”

You let out a dry laugh.

“Like hell he is. Promoting an employee after his wife tried to humiliate and practically extort money from me…yeah that sounds like a good precedent to set.”

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation, now leaning fully forward with elbows propped up.

“Ha-Jun’s worked here for fifteen years, and he has one of the highest success rates for bids. Do you know how many times Choi was trying to get him in on shady deals behind your back? But he always declined. If you go through with firing him, then you’re losing someone honest and competent. It’s only going to hurt you in the long run, y/n.”

“But if I let it go—”

“If you let it go, he’s going to be incredibly grateful, work harder, and be even more loyal to you.”

There’s a moment of silence as you gather your thoughts.

“Please, can we at least try it this way?”

You sigh, unable to say no when it’s Yoongi asking so earnestly.

“Okay. I won’t fire him. But tell him his wife has to submit a written apology. That’s not unreasonable.”

“I’ll tell him. You won’t regret this.”

You’re skeptical, but you decide to believe him—because it’s him.

___

“I’m surprised every time I peek in here. It’s coming along wonderfully Tae.”

Taehyung turns around to see you at the door, eyes transfixed on the canvas. Not much has been done, only the hair so far, but the part that is finished looks as if it’s a photograph. You genuinely can’t comprehend the level of skill it must take. You’ve collected many oil paintings in your life, in the form of either gifts or through charity auctions, but rarely have you stopped to think about the hours of work and dedication it takes to create one. They’ve always been pretty decorations to spice up a part of the estate—but now, seeing the love Taehyung pours into each brushstroke has you finding a newfound appreciation for the craft.

“You think so?”

“You’re practically a modern day Van Gogh.”

His boxy grin makes an appearance at the compliment, but it’s short-lived as another figure comes up behind you.

You jump up at the feeling of another body.

“Jimin! Don’t sneak up on me!” You chide, playfully smacking his arm.

He laughs before letting his head rest on your shoulder, eyes trailing to Taehyung and his art.

“That looks incredible.”

Taehyung’s face visibly drops as he mutters an indifferent thank you before turning around to immerse himself back into painting.

You look back and forth, “Did something happen with you two?” It’s a whisper, only meant for Jimin’s ears. Neither of you know that Taehyung’s dialed into his hybrid hearing as well, paranoid that Jimin might say something to undermine the younger wolf.

“No, we’re fine.”

You cock up a brow, not buying it, “Then why did he ignore you?”

“He’s just in the zone right now.”

You want to prod further but decide to back off, “Well, I’m gonna go make dinner.”

“I’ll help!”

“Jin’s already helping. You should stay here, keep Tae company.”

Both hybrids know the implications of your words.

Talk to each other and figure things out.

You push Jimin into the room before closing the door, mouthing an encouraging “you got this” on the way out.

He awkwardly hovers behind his busy packmate, trying to find his voice.

“What did I do, Tae? What did I do so wrong that you can’t even look at me anymore?” His voice cracks midway, unpleasant emotions stirring up in the pit of his stomach.

Taehyung puts the brush down, fearing that his hands will start shaking if he tries to paint while having this conversation. He still doesn’t look back, though.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. How could you? You never do anything wrong. You’re so fucking perfect that it has to be me who’s always wrong, right?”

“Tae, baby—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Those days are behind us Taehyung. The lab, being compared to each other, that fucking scoreboard…it’s all in the past. We don’t have to live like that anymore.”

The mention of the scoreboard only adds kindling to the fiery rage inside of Taehyung, making him turn around at last.

“The scoreboard where you always ranked first or second? Very easy for you to say. Do you know what it feels like to see your name last place every single week? The fear of the punishment that comes after…watching those researchers laugh and draw what torture method to use out of a fucking hat…it was their favorite part of the week. But it was never a problem for you, huh?”

Hot tears trail down Taehyung’s face, and Jimin’s eyes are ready to spill at any moment.

“I was just trying to survive! We were all drugged up and out of our minds in there! Why does it seem like you’re only mad at me?!”

“Because you were supposed to be my best friend! And now I can’t look at you without thinking about every time you were spared and I wasn’t. You wanna know what my nightmare was about, Jimin? It was about you—you laughing away as they did whatever cruel thing they wanted to me.”

The air leaves Jimin’s lungs, feeling as if the room could collapse on him at any moment. How could things ever get this bad? His beloved packmate, his best friend, having nightmares of him? His tears don’t hold themselves back anymore.

“I-I never laughed. You know that.”

“Doesn’t matter. You were probably laughing in your head. Bet it was so funny, right? Seeing the most useless member of the pack mess up over and over again.”

Jimin wishes he could get his words out without sputtering, but it’s impossible when the tears won’t stop. “Taehyung…baby…I h-have never t-thought of you as useless.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie! You’re the most precious person in the world to me! How could I ever think of you as useless when I can’t survive a day without you? It’s only you thinking of yourself that way Taehyung. You’re my everything.”

Jimin dares to step closer, needing to feel any hint of closeness to the younger wolf. Taehyung doesn’t say anything back, sobbing into his hands. He hates that he craves the closeness too. Hates that he’s been craving it for months. Because even in between those nightmares and twisted perceptions, there’s still the good memories. Memories of putting salt in Namjoon’s drink to rebel against him, or replacing Hobi’s shaving cream with whipped cream, or any other one of countless pranks they’d pull on the rest. There’s also other types of memories, of being tangled up in the between the sheets exchanging “I love yous” and forgetting anything outside of the two of them existed. It’s a war within his mind, tugging him back and forth between which Jimin to believe is the real one.

“Tae please…the lab has taken so much away from us already…don’t let it ruin me and you forever.”

The gravity of his words sink down on Taehyung’s shoulders—the prospect of losing his bond with Jimin forever. This Jimin, who seems real and tangible and not the warped one in his nightmare. It’s Taehyung that reaches out this time, head falling onto Jimin’s shoulder as his sobs get more intense. Jimin holds the boy tight, fearing that he’ll slip away any second.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.”

“I just-I just always feel like I’m not good enough. For this pack. For you. I hate feeling like this all the time. I’m so exhausted Jimin.”

“You’re more than good enough. You don’t need to prove anything for our love. We love you because you’re ours. That’s all you ever need to be—not perfect, just ours.”

___

No one comments on Taehyung and Jimin’s equally puffy eyes during dinner, but everyone does notice them finally sitting next to each other. Namjoon glances over, smiling at the way the two caretaker hybrids have joined hands under the table.

It’s Jimin’s signature trait when reconciling with a packmate—clinging onto them to make up for all the time they’ve been distant. No one else in the pack relies on physical touch quite as much as Jimin, and even now he’s acting as if letting go of the boy’s hand for one second will result in disaster. Taehyung looks a little shy. A little embarrassed at giving in so easily. But he indulges Jimin, nonetheless.

While Namjoon tries to be discreet in his joy, Hoseok has a completely different approach.

“Joonie look! Our pups made up!” He beams with excitement, causing Taehyung to cough into his cup mid-sip.

“Hyung, you’re embarrassing them!”

“I don’t care. Look at them! They’re holding hands!”

Taehyung would be running out the room right now if not for the fact that Hoseok was actually laughing. It’s the first time they’ve heard that laugh in a while now, and the first time you’ve heard it all. You think it might be your new favorite sound.

Taehyung smiles wide, playing into whatever his hyung wants him to, “Hobi hyung, quit teasing!”

“~I won’t. You can’t make me.~” He sing-songs, oblivious to the heart eyes everyone’s shooting at him.

___

Yoongi walks in at around eleven-thirty, the wears of a long workday evident on his face. He’s kicking off his shoes when you enter, wine glass in hand.

“Thought you could use this.”

He thankfully takes the glass, letting the Cabernet Sauvignon hit his nose before taking a much needed sip.

“You’d make a lovely assistant” he quips, grinning at the way you scoff.

“Yeah yeah, drink up boss. I know you had dinner at the office, but there’s leftover pasta if you’re still hungry. Jin was pretty adamant about leaving some for you.”

Yoongi’s heart swells at that.

“He did? Even after what I said yesterday?”

“We all talked about it at dinner, and they understand you were just being protective of me. They aren’t holding it against you—except for Jungkook who had daggers in his eyes when he found out. But he’s not on nice terms with me either sooo…”

“He’s shut you out completely?”

You nod and Yoongi gives you a sympathetic look.

The two of you make your way to the kitchen, where he wastes no time to dig into the pasta, eyes automatically closing the second the rich flavors hit his tongue. You use the time to pour yourself some wine as well, opting for a white option instead of the Sauvignon.

“Damn, Jin can cook.”

“You should have seen in him in the kitchen today, the hormones wearing off has him turning into some kind of Gordon Ramsey clone. He was making snarky comments about literally everything I was doing! I couldn’t hold a knife for two seconds without him telling me I’m doing it all wrong!”

Yoongi throws his head back in laughter, imagining the scene play out in his head.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that for paperwork.”

“You’ll see it soon. I have no doubt it’s about to be a common occurrence in this house.” You join in on the laughter.

Yoongi indulges in the delicious alfredo while you catch him up on what’s happened. It’s not long before you’re each finishing up your second glass of wine, feeling a familiar low buzz.

“I’m glad Jimin and Taehyung made up” he comments in between sips.

“You and me both. I can’t imagine all the pain they share. I feel like even hell itself wouldn’t be as cruel as that lab.”

“I think the devil looks up to Kang as inspiration.”

“A-fucking-men to that.” you raise your glass and clink it to his, “On a much lighter note, my mom called today about another marriage proposal.”

“How long before you hung up the phone?”

“Three minutes.”

“Ooh, a new record. Which chaebol was it this time?”

“Jun Hee-Chul.”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide,

“The heir of Jun Tech? The same guy who’s HoloPad venture you shut down?”

“Yup, hilarious right? They’re trying to marry me off to placate Jun Tech and keep the business they bring.”

“And this Hee-Chul guy, he’s not pissed off at you?”

“Nope,” you roll your eyes, “apparently he’s had his sight set on me for a while. Says I’m his ideal type…that he likes a challenge. He’s been married once before fyi, had the girl running out the door the second he told her to be a full-time housewife.”

Yoongi cringes at that, just like you did when you first heard it.

“A proper chaebol sleazeball I see.”

“I just don’t get guys like that. I mean, if you want a housewife, marry a girl who wants to be a housewife. It’s not rocket science.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, grabbing your empty glass before making his way over to do the dishes. You look at him, sleeves rolled up and focused in on scrubbing. The domesticity of it all has you wondering…

“What about you, Yoongi?”

He quirks up a brow, “What about me?”

“What’s your ideal type? You never really talk about it. What kind of girl would you marry?”

“Oh, I’m not picky. I only have one requirement,” He breaks out into a mischievous grin, “She has to be filthy rich.”

You lightly swat his arm, making him swat back and get some of the soapy water on you, both of you grinning like idiots.

“I’m asking seriously!”

“What makes you think my lifelong dream to become a trophy husband isn’t serious?”

“Oh, so you just want to be arm-candy for some fortune 500 socialite? Then why don’t I ever see you playing the field at those charity events?”

Because I’m too busy staring at you the whole time.

“A guy as charming as me doesn’t need to go out and try y/n. They’ll all come to me in no time.”

“Oh yeah? Are you some type of hidden Cassanova that I don’t know about?”

“Exactly. I have to keep it hidden or else you’d fall for me in an instant.”

He’s done washing, but it’s in an instant that you’ve got him trapped, caged between your body and the sink. Eyes playfully challenging his statement.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Work your magic on me. I want to see if you’re as good as you say you are.”

His eyes dart to every other part of the kitchen, trying not to think of how nice your perfume smells or how close your body is to his.

“You were saying you could swoop any girl off her feet, but now you can’t even look at me. You’re going to have to work really hard if you want to charm a socialite, Mr.Cassanova.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine or the way you’re egging him on (probably a dangerous combination of both), but it’s the final push he needs.

Because in the next moment, he’s not looking around anymore. He’s not looking at anything—his eyes are closed tight the second his lips dip down to meet yours. It’s a gentle peck, but it’s most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done. Panic pulls him back instantly as he scans your face, searching for any indication of how you feel. But your expression is unreadable.

____

A/N: Comments, reblogs, and asks really help keep up with these weekly updates, so please let me know what you think!

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universee @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #hybrid bts x reader #poly bts #ot7 x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort

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anlian-aishang · 5 months

Text

SNK Men - Masturbation Habits - Levi, Erwin, Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Zeke [nsfw]

Levi

Masturbates in the shower. Levi deems it as a way to save time, to keep his sheets and clothes from getting too dirty. He hates to admit it, but something about sex makes him sweat easily. Even more shameful, he is weak to the flow of scalding water on his skin and the way it melts his reserves, inhibitions down the drain. The echo of tile walls amplifies the smacks of his hand around his cock, making it easier to imagine it's your pussy around him instead. Feigning the priority of cleanliness, he grants himself an excuse to be filthy. Levi sees masturbation as a last resort, something to rely on when he can’t have the real thing. As such, when by himself, he finishes fast. Three minutes of ferocity, white-knuckle holds of the shower bar and his erection. Toes curl tight against slippery tile. Soap trickles down his bangs and into his eyes. Squeezing them shut, he relies on imagined scenes to get him there. Strives to stay silent, but especially when it's been too long, not even Ackerman can prevent the grunts and swears from escaping. At the sound of his own succumbing, his ears, cheeks, chest flush red. On comedown, he deliberately jerks the metal handle to cold with hopes that, by the time he steps out and sees the mirror’s reflection, his fucked-out state will not stare him back.

Erwin

Gets off at his desk. It’s always the end of the quarter that his sex drive surges. Though it’s inconvenient at best and incapacitating at worst, he has come to understand why. A cruel chain reaction: work piles up, his mind multitasks to its bitter end, and at that end is a pure, carnal desire for reprieve. His signature grows illegible with the way his hand is shaking. He is making mistakes and making them in ink. Erwin clenched his fist, nails dug into his palm, but neither his erection nor filthy thoughts will die down. His hand is big, but his cock is bigger. The ratio aids his fantasy, trying to pretend it's your grasp wrapped around him instead. Erwin pumps himself a couple palms full of the lotion that others find so innocuously stored on top of his desk, lays a path of tissues on the pad of his office chair, and shuts his blinds as well as his eyes. Left hand works his member tight from tip to base. Right hand undoes his top button and hooks itself on the loop of his tie, allowing his breaths to deepen, and they do. Erwin growls through it. After this many successive nights of overtime, he deserves these minutes of release from those reins. Squeezing so hard that the veins in his biceps rise. Exhales harsh, fogging the oak of his desk top. Toes curl in his leather shoes. Words fail him as he climaxes to the thought of you barging in on him - loud grunts and moans of your name all the man can muster.

Eren

Lays back on the sofa. Unspeakable yearnings have brought him to this point. It was not only that he was unable to make it to the privacy of his bedroom. More accurately, Eren was so caught up in his fantasy that he couldn't care less if he were walked-in on. Lying on his back, his right hand slithers beneath the hem of his shirt and hikes it to his teeth. Abdomen exposed to less stifling air. At the same time, his left hand handles his belt, button, zipper before tugging his waistband to rest at his upper thighs. Eren leans his head back over the armrest, airway straightened, low yet loud vocals fill the room. Running his fingers through his hair, his elastic band snaps and lets his locks flow freely. Even with his eyes closed, his thumb lands right atop the lotion bottle - an old habit - and pumps a couple ounces into his hand. The unexpected cold draws a few hisses and curses, but before long, the fierce friction of his hand has converted it: hot like the rest of him. Even though he is reclined back, Eren is an active masturbator. His left hand has one job, one primary motion, but his right hand plays himself. Palm over his chest, fingertips pinching his jawline. Legs squirm, heels jut - all threatening to rip the leather couch. Instead of damaging the space around him, he takes that tension out on himself: cock sore, nipples bruised, scratches on his abdomen - but nothing that his sweatshirts can’t hide.

Armin

Shuts himself in his closet. An unexpectedly experienced masturbator, yet the shame Armin feels is disproportionately tremendous. Not even his bedroom is private enough, Arlert retreats to his locked closet, barely large enough to fit his clothes, let alone him. The blonde leans back against his wooden, creaky dresser and props his feet on the opposite wall. On the way to grab himself, his arm twitches: do you really need this? He tilts his head back and sighs: yes, you do. Armin dips his fingers into his mouth and pretends that they’re yours. Sucks them deliberately as he aims to keep quiet. As his tugs grow tighter, fuller, that sucking becomes sloppy, though. Overstimulated cries demand his lips fall from a circle to a helpless part. His breaths are brisk on his skin, covered in his own saliva. Soon enough, his tongue is flopping in frantic indecision: keep quiet or cry your name? That tug-of-war results in a submissive symphony for his reddened ears alone. But at least you can’t hear it. But what if you did? For what he lacks in confidence, he makes up for in imagination. Armin softens his grip to match the way he thought you would hold him. First, your fingers. Then, your presence. Now, your contact. Once his walls have weakened past the point of disbelief, and only once he convinces himself that you’re the one working him can he get himself to his toe-curling, back-breaking climax.

Jean

It always starts on his bed. Lazily palming himself on his mattress, Jean is rather carefree. Masturbation is not something he plans, but something he indulges in when he feels like it. It’s just one of those things. It is not something he lets himself anticipate all day, nor is it something he approaches with shame. Before he wakes up or before he drifts to sleep, it will cost only a little energy but help him rest. It’s the lie he tells himself, arousal his most gullible state. Less than a minute after he begins, Jean is panting, drooling, burying himself into his pillow. Swears muffled as he envelops his twitching cock in his similarly trembling hand. In working hours, he keeps his thoughts for you under wraps. When the sun is down, though, so is his façade of composure. Oh, the things he wants to do to you. More than that, what fucks him up is the thought of what you would do to him. Tendons strain and cast shadows on his neck, a desperate attempt to subdue his needy vocals. In this one session, the scenarios he has fantasized over have flashed faster than seconds. In that way, he thinks he must have lasted a while. In reality, everything is skewed. When he goes for days, sometimes weeks, without release, that release is difficult to delay. His pent-up dam demands a break: the uncatchable shot of his warm seed through his fingers and onto his sheets. He always thinks that climax will wind him down, but instead, it gets him up and out of bed, to the laundry machines.

Reiner

Slams himself against the door. Panting hard before he can even unbuckle and unzip himself. He’s ashamed to admit it all: how badly he wants to cum, how badly he needs to. The desperate rasp in his throat and the way it bounces off his bedroom walls turns his blush ablaze. He manages a squint and the sight of his bed, but the stagger in his legs tells him that he won’t make the walk. Reiner leans back against the wooden slate, one hand around his cock, one hand clutching the doorknob for stability. Eyes rolled back into his head. Hair a mess after this many runs of his hand through it. Inhales hiss through his teeth. Exhales shake on their fall past his lips. Looking down at himself, he notices the way his abdomen ripples with blood flow and wonders if you’d like that. He could practically hear you, the way you would dip your fingers into his mouth and pry, beckoning his moans and encouraging their volume. His imagination of what else you would do drives the speed and force of his hand. Pants crumpled at his ankles bind his legs to the perfect spread. His back is soaked with cold sweat, slicking and sticking him to his bedroom door. The flicks of his wrist are automatic now, racing to catch up with the snowball effect in his mind: you you you. With one final, nearly sadistic yank, he brings himself to finish - the sensation just as incoherent as his calls of your name.

Zeke

Tucks himself into bed. To Zeke, masturbation is a ritual, religiously stocked with offerings. From the drawer of his bedside table, he removes fire-and-ice lubrication and a ten-inch fleshlight. Atop the nightstand, a pack of cigarettes and his reflective lighter wait to accompany his comedown. He removes his glasses and sets them aside. By a thumb on his waistband, he peels his briefs down and flings them into the hamper across the room, satisfied with his aim. Zeke deliberately clashes his teeth together, trying to resist the admission of how good the initial sheathe feels. This is his relaxation time and he intends to savor it. His spank bank is rich with both fond memories and colorful fantasies. Playing them back in his mind, he accompanies the scenes with his own vocalizations, beating himself to the rhythm of your ass as it bounced around his cock, or the way your head bobbed back and forth around him. Most men last only a few minutes. Zeke basks in his average time of one hour. Edging himself on and on, chuckling maniacally each time he - to his own surprise - manages to wean himself off at the last second. His arm does not tire. His images are endless. It is only after the friction reaches an unbearable burn and his wrist begins to cramp that Zeke decides to give in, though he didn’t like to phrase it that way. Tilting his head back, his exhale is deceptively cool as his hot cum soaks his sleeve. It takes a couple flicks of his lighter, and many more involuntary twitches, though, until the pleasure truly ends.

// masterlist //

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tiredfox64 · 12 days

Note

May i make a request? So pretty much fem reader is a a kill for hire, (with morals) no innocents etc) and liu kang sand either bi han kuai and smoke, or kung lao and raiden, to recruit her, they watch,as she asks all bubbly and sweet to lure in her tagret only to kill them easily, posion or something?. They ofc fall in love XD

She Would Hurt A Fly

Prior notes: You not one of my opps trying to convict me of something, right? FBI already trying to get me after my constant research on Datura. Don’t put me in jail for making a murder scene 👁️👁️.

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Violence but you will learn something about pigs.

“You want us to fetch…her?” Bi-Han asked with uncertainty.

All the brothers looked down at a picture of you that was given to them by Liu Kang. No offense but you seem like some ordinary person. But according to Liu Kang you are a tricky woman who is a fierce killer. That can’t be right.

“She looks so sweet though.” Tomas said.

“Do not judge, lest ye be judged.” Liu Kang replied.

“You said she was an assassin that can be hired? If you have the Lin Kuei at your side, why would you need someone else like her that you have to pay for?” Kuai Liang had a point.

“Though true that I have your clan by my side, she can do something none of you were trained to do. I don’t question the Lin Kuei’s abilities but I need someone with her unique expertise.”

Liu Kang’s words only fueled their curiosity even more. Bi-Han was somewhat upset with the god for thinking that he needs someone else other than his clan. But if his words are true he wants to see it for himself. So they’ll accept this quest to get you. They won’t act immediately however. They need to see if you are truly needed. What can you do that is so different?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Target acquired. Your target: a lowlife scum who is somehow let free after committing his heinous crime. People talk, and they all think he somehow paid the judge for his freedom. Some even think he had the justice system by the balls way earlier than when he committed the crime. And you were hired to kill him in any way you see fit. You would have done this job for free but your clients insisted that you deserve the pay. Work your magic girl! You have an audience with you now that you don’t even know about.

Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas hide in the bushes and behind trees to keep an eye on you. It looked they were just stalking a poor woman who was having some car problems in front of her farm home. You could have fooled anyone.

“Should we help her?” Tomas asked.

“Do we look like mechanics, Tomas? Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut.” Bi-Han berated him.

“Settle down, brother. You are only irritated because she has not done anything yet. How about we approach her now and-“ Kuai Liang was cut off when he heard you yell out to someone. All their heads turned to see what you were going on about. Time for action.

You were waving over your target and started asking for help. You acted like a clueless damsel in distress. A poor woman who can’t get her truck to start working.

“Please sir, I need your help. My car is acting all strange. Please sir, I’d really appreciate it.” You gave him your sweetest voice while looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

Who could say no to a face like yours. He accepted which made you jump for joy and clap your hands. That wasn’t fake you were just happy that he accepted in the first place, already making the job go smoothly. Your target had no idea what he was walking into. Hell, he even thought the same thing that you were making this too easy for him. It would be him who will fall victim to you.

You kept your act going. You asked dumb questions about the car and acted all sweet when he corrected you about something. Yet you were only pissing Bi-Han off even more. He wanted to yell at you to do something else. Kill him already. The brothers were all missing the point that this was how you do your. The fact is you lure your targets in. Give them a false sense of security before striking them down. They only know how to sneak up and strike when the opportunity opens up. You just have more patience than them. They don’t have to wait any longer because now you are striking.

You offered to get the man a drink for being so kind to you. He accepted of course. You were quick with getting him a cup and you passed it to him. He looked at you strangely as he looked down into the cup with blue liquid inside of it. He asked you what was inside. You reassured him it was just Calypso lemonade, nothing bad. Well, he trusted you. You built his trust up before, why would a sweet and bubbly lady like you mess with a man’s drink?

He gulped it down quickly and immediately he started reacting. The brothers turned their full attention onto him. Alright, so maybe you weren’t so truthful. Maybe you put in some drain cleaner that was a similar color to the lemonade. Maybe, just maybe. They watched him stubble away from you while holding his throat.

“What’s happening? Did she do something?” Tomas asked, convinced he blinked and missed what you did.

“I don’t know. He just started coughing.” Kuai Liang might not know but Bi-Han suspected there was something else they weren’t thinking of.

Of course you won’t stab a man in broad daylight. You’re a professional. And then it clicked.

“Poison”

“What was that?” Both brothers asked Bi-Han.

“She has clearly poisoned him. The fool was too stupid to realize she was luring him in.” Bi-Han wants to act like he wasn’t doubting you just a few moments ago.

“I’m a no-rust-build-up woman, myself.” You declared to the guy as you watched him crawl away from you, still keeping up that sweet voice.

And just like that he was gone. No blood left over or screams to already anyone else. A quick yet painful death for him and a job well done. Now to dispose of the body.

You left quite an impression on the boys. Kuai Liang finds your tactic to be effective. You fooled them all and he find that incredible. Tomas thinks you would be amazing as a huntress. You have the patience and the sneakiness to be one. He wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two from you. And Bi-Han…what the fuck is he doing.

“Brother, are you…smiling?” Kuai Liang looks confused and Tomas seems horrified.

Bi-Han doesn’t say a word, only hums in response. He’s smiling as he watches you drag the body over the pig pen. This isn’t like a smile one does when they are day dreaming about their crush. No, this is a smile that says he likes you but not in the right ways. A closed-mouth smile that shows no warmth but a devilish desire.

You are a deceitful woman who has tricked all. You trap your victims by giving them a false sense of security. You leave no evidence and do it silently so no one would know. You are leaving that man’s family clueless of his demise. You are wicked and he likes that a lot.

Again he’s not alone in that. Tomas would like to get close to you just to learn your tricks as well. Maybe see if that persona is actually you or just some trick. Either way he wants to get to know you. Kuai Liang is awed by intellect and you have sure shown that by your well constructed plan. He can see why you are even worthy of hiring. You do it so effortlessly it makes your beauty pop out more. We got some bachelors over here.

“Should we go up to her now and tell her Lord Liu Kang’s proposal?” Tomas stepped in front of Bi-Han when asking that question. The only response he got was Bi-Han’s hand in his face, pushing him away so Bi-Han could keep looking at you.

They’ll wait this out a bit. At least it will give you enough time to dump the body into the pig pen and feed your poor, hungry pigs. They can stomach it.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were brought before Lord Liu Kang who told you he would like to have you around. It was a big shock to you. A god wants to hire you? Slap that on your resume immediately.

You accepted the offer quickly. You thanking him for seeing that you are a good person at heart and only try to kill those who deserve such a fate. An antihero if you will. And hey, you have the chance to meet some new people now. Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas seem to be really interested in getting to know you.

Liu Kang was very suspicious of their intentions though. Mostly Bi-Han since he still had that devilish smirk on his face as he stared at you. He hasn’t even talked he just keeps giving off that low hum. Something is off. Maybe he won’t have you train with the Lin Kuei.

“Perhaps I shall send you to the Wu Shi Academy. They might be a better fit for you.” Liu Kang said in perfect earshot of the brothers.

A collective ‘no’ rang out from them which told you and him everything. They like you, they like your skills. They just won’t have any drink you give them. Especially not a Calypso.

After notes: Heathers is free on YouTube. It’s really important you know that. Might give a hint on how I thought of this. Might also be craving a Calypso badly. That Southern Peach gets me.

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ilguna · 5 months

Note

Can I get 6 and 23 from list 2 with Finnick please?

☼ sunburst (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, gun use, blood mention, ehh gore.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 6. "I know, it hurts. I'm so sorry, but we have to get this out." AND 23. "You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer."

When you were recruited to be a part of the mission to storm the Capitol, you were under the impression that you’d actually be in some danger. You spent weeks training in District Thirteen, thinking that you were going to be running for your life every waking moment. It was supposed to be more like being inside of an arena, than a walk on the bad side of District Four.

Both of which you can handle, for the record.

What you can’t handle is the boredom that comes with being a member of the Star Squad. While you were told you’d be at the front lines with the rest of the rebels, the reality is that you’re stuck days behind them. President Coin is too afraid of putting their precious Mockingjay into danger.

It’s an interesting concept, considering that Katniss has expressed no issue in the past surrounding the idea of putting her life on the line. The first time she did this was when she wanted to get sent to District Eight, an active battlezone, to see the citizens there. The next time was District Two, where a gun was held to her head, and she still proceeded to give a speech, and got shot for it.

You suppose that’s the exact problem, though. She can be a magnet for trouble, whether she intends to be or not. In that case, you’re not sure why they didn’t tell you that you’d be stuck here with a mixed group, beforehand. You might’ve changed your mind and found a different way to help the rebellion.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried to have patience, because you have. It’s been severely run thin by the propo team—a camera crew from the Capitol, their only job being to film videos to slice together to show the districts. Their incessant need to get a shot of absolutely everything that’s going on has got you beyond irritated.

They’re so demanding with it, and all it is is a bunch of bullshit. They want you to walk down the street the right way, looking fierce and in the middle of battle. When in reality, there’s no one for a several mile radius, and all the threats are being given away by the Holo. A device that was made to tell you where the traps, the pods, are.

If you could, you’d tell them that you’re done participating, but you really have no choice. You’ve been seen in so many of their other videos, that it’ll make the districts and the Capitol question why you’re not in the rest. Either they’ll think that you died, or that you’ve decided the rebellion isn’t worth fighting for.

Which isn’t true in the slightest. You just think that it’s morally wrong to be back here, pretending like you’re fighting, when the faceless rebels at the front lines are the ones almost getting killed everyday. You want to be up there, with them.

The rebels ahead don’t set off all the pods, though. They leave the mild ones behind, marking them as such, assuming that the group behind them will take it out when they pass. That group happens to be you.

Sometimes, Boggs, the squad leader, will see a pod on the Holo, so he’ll ask for volunteers to set it off, naturally. You don’t even know what the point of raising your hand is, anymore. He won’t call on you, or Finnick, or Katniss. He keeps his attention on the District Thirteen trained soldiers to do the important tasks.

Despite the fact that you had, once again, spent weeks training to be able to do something like that.

What will happen is that Katniss will pretend to set off the pod with an arrow at a distance, to keep her from getting hurt by accident. While a soldier off to the side will trigger it. This makes the rest of you all duck for cover, afraid of whatever the pod has to offer. And when it’s all said and done, and you’re ready to move on, the next step is to reenact your reactions to defending yourself from whatever threat came out of the pod.

It’s been four days of this, and it’s driving you crazy. You’ll spend a few hours pretending to fight, and then return to camp for the rest of the night, safely out of harm's way. It’s taking everything in you not to ask Boggs to leave to go back to the Nut, where the rest of the rebel soldiers are. Maybe there, you can get reassigned.

The problem would be convincing Finnick to go with you, because he doesn’t mind being in the Star Squad. He thinks it’s great, because that means you’re not in any immediate danger. After what they did to Peeta, the last thing he wants is for the Capitol to potentially get their hands on you, or for you to die.

Neither of which you plan on letting happen.

The only way you’ll be able to get him to leave is if you do it without bringing it up to him first. Cut out the whole conversation on how he’d prefer if you went with Coin’s plan, instead of making your own. He has a way with words, and he knows this. That’s why your resolve can crumble in the matter of fifteen minutes, all because he’s the one reasoning with you.

That’s what you’ll do tonight then; you’ll go talk to Boggs.

The Holo begins to beep loudly, warning your squad that you’re coming close to a pod. Boggs slows his pace, opening it up to take a look. When he comes to a full stop, so do you.

A sigh escapes you, Finnick glances over, watching as you turn around to take a few steps away. This is the fourth pod that you’ve come across today, meaning that Boggs will probably call it a day after this. Even though you’ve covered more distance today than you have the past three.

“The Holo says it’s going to be a swarm of muttation gnats.” Boggs says, “Who wants to hit it?”

You turn to face the squad, watching as almost every hand flies up, with the exception of you, Finnick and Katniss. Even Gale, Katniss’s best friend from Twelve, has his hand raised. You think he’s been tasked once, which is the hope he’s probably holding on to.

Regardless, Boggs motions at one of the Leeg twins. “Leeg, I want you. The rest of you, go find someone to stand in the meantime.”

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “Predictable.”

“Come on, (Y/n).” Finnick grabs the underside of your arm, pulling you with him to the other side of the street.

The pod is disguised as an electrical box on the side of an orange shop. If it weren’t for the Holo, you wouldn’t have suspected a thing of it, but that’s the whole point. The pods are hidden in plain sight, meant for your eyes to glance over them, so that they can kill you later on.

The best the Capitol can do is gnats?

“Okay, Katniss, we’ll focus on pulling the arrow back, and holding it.” Cressida begins, she’s the one that has the specific propo visions. If this doesn’t go according to her plan, she’ll rework it and have Katniss do it over again until it’s right.

“Just a regular arrow?” Katniss asks, reaching back to grab one.

“No, we’ll have Leeg set off the pod, and then you’ll use an explosive arrow to kill the gnats.” Cressida says, looking at Boggs. He gives her an approving nod.

“What happens when that shot isn’t good enough and we have to start over?” You mutter, Finnick bumps your shoulder.

“I know you’re unhappy, but can we please not make enemies out of the people that could save our lives?” Finnick asks.

You look at Finnick, “I’m not making promises I won’t keep.”

You watch as Cressida gives Katniss directions on where to stand and how to hold her bow. This gives the cameramen, Castor and Pollux, enough time to find their angles, because realistically, there won’t be an opportunity for reshoots. With one of them on Katniss, and the other on the pod, Cressida gives Boggs the go ahead.

“On the count of three, Leeg.” Boggs tells her. Finnick adjusts his footing, prepared to duck if necessary. You don’t move from where you stand, staring dead at the pod. “One, two, three!”

Leeg shoots at the pod, piercing the metal that encases the gnats, leaving bullet holes. The sound of metal on metal screeches through the quiet street, as the door swings open, releasing what’s inside.

A startled scream comes from you as piercing pains hit you all across your body, throwing you back onto the ground. The back of your head slams against the cement of the sidewalk, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, as the world begins to spin.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick’s voice wavers.

The punctured points in your body begin to deepen, as the shrapnel from the box begins to burrow in your skin. You grunt, writhing, eyes opening suddenly to see it for yourself.

It’s not shrapnel, they’re metal darts, and they've got claws that are digging into your skin.

“No!” Someone cries.

“We need the medic team!” Jackson barks, her voice is clear. “We’ve got two down, Boggs!”

“Copy.” He says.

From what you can tell, you got a brunt of the hit, a consequence of not taking cover like you were instructed to. There’s over a dozen of these, stuck in your body, going deeper as the seconds tick on.

“Get them out.” Your voice is rough, as you reach to grab one. “Get them out of me!”

“(Y/n), honey—” Finnick seizes your hand, keeping you from doing it. “Stop, leave them.”

“They’re in me!” You cry, “They’re going to kill me.”

“We can’t take them out. We learned this, remember? They’re stinting the blood, we have to wait for—”

“No, she’s right.” Katniss is standing at your feet. “Look at them.”

You don’t want to, not when they all move at once, ripping your skin open further. You can see the brief stream of blood in the air, before it’s gone, covered by the dart. It’s not large enough to block the chunk of skin it’s pulled from your body, though, because the blood begins to pool, quickly.

“Shit.” Finnick says.

There’s a girl crying, when you lift your head to see, you find that it’s the other Leeg sister, on her knees, next to the first one. The one that had shot at the pod, now has a dart sticking out of the side of her head. It’s already found her brain.

She’s dead.

You begin to breathe heavier when you realize that this will be your fate, too, if they don’t start to pull them out. Which must be the same conclusion that Finnick comes to, because he rolls back his sleeves, hands hovering over one of them.

You grab the heel of his shoe, knowing that you’ll need something to hold on to. He gives you a look, and you nod quickly, urging him to do it. The second that his hand is around the dart, it begins to wiggle. To keep it from going further, he yanks.

You scream, throwing your head back, body tense, as the entire world goes white. It clings on, refusing to be pulled off in just one attempt.

“Stop!” You tell them, “Stop!”

“Katniss, I need help.” Finnick says.

She drops her bow without question to get to her knees to help him. You watch through blurred tears as she holds the dart while he pries the claws apart. It’s like a thousand needles jabbing into your skin repeatedly, refusing to leave the area alone.

And then they get it free, and the first tear slides down your cheek.

The metal clinks on the ground from Katniss dropping it.

You can’t help the sob that breaks through your lips. This is just the beginning isn’t it?

“Hold on, honey.” He tells you.

“I don’t—”

He begins to pull at this dart, more aggressive than he was the first time. Unprepared, you cry through gritted teeth, squeezing his shoe. He manages to unhook it faster this time, but that means little to you.

Him and Katniss go back and forth, pulling them out of the areas they think will hurt the least. There’s a few times where their hands slip, which causes an indescribable pain.

The pool of blood beneath you is growing. You can feel the puddle reach your fingers on your free hand, coating your skin in red.

“There’s only two left, (Y/n).” Finnick smooths your hair back. “These will hurt the most.”

“Just wait.” You tell him, grabbing onto the bunched sleeve.

“We can’t stop, or it’ll keep digging in.” He tells you. “Breathe, okay?”

“Finnick.” You warn, bracing yourself when he secures his hand around the metal dart, beginning to pull.

The feeling of your guts being yanked from your body, makes the dark spots at the corners of your vision come around quickly. For a moment, you’re gone, drifting off into the peaceful voice, until Finnick’s lifting your head up with one hand.

“You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer.” Finnick tells you

“I can’t.” You sniff. “I want to be done.”

“One more.” He tells you, lowering your head back to the ground.

“No.” Your lips tremble.

He grabs the dart, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Please! Please, please, please! It hurts!”

“I know, it hurts.” Finnick says, he doesn’t sound very happy that he has to do this to you. “I’m so sorry, baby, but we have to get this out.”

This one has decided to hold on, taking twice as long as it normally does. For a second, it almost slips out of their hands, when Finnick’s able to pry the claws open.

A faint sense of relief floods through you, but it’s gone when your body begins to tingle. “Finnick.” You whisper. With a shaky hand, you dip your fingers into one of the many wounds that will end up being scars. The exposed raw flesh against your fingers makes you nauseous.

It subsides slightly when you pull your hand out, and find an orange substance mixed with the blood.

Poison.

“No.” Finnick says, looking at Boggs, presumably. “How far out are the medics?”

“They’ll be here any minute.” He says, coming over to see better.

“They need to have an antidote ready.” Finnick’s voice echoes, bouncing back and forth in your head, as he splits into two people, then four…

Your eyes flutter shut.

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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merakiui · 2 months

Note

Hello! Could I request flower bouquet from the miscellaneous menu.. And as for the dynamic, I'm quite indecisive on that regard, but I recall you saying it's fine to let you chose? Forgive me if I'm wrong. I'd like to order that with red velvet cupcakes & banana pudding from the midnight menu for Jade Leech, with an AFAB reader. If you are unable to do this, it is completely understandable. I hope your day/night goes well, and may you take care.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping, slight angst, royalty au (princess!reader x butler!jade) note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

It’s well past midnight when Jade finds you in the garden. He spots you milling about aimlessly beneath a stone archway. Greenery twists up the rough surface; vines spotted with tiny flowers drape like fruit from a bough. Moonlight paints you in strokes of silvery magnificence, a breathtaking sight even the most skillful painter could never hope to replicate on a canvas. Even though it’s the middle of summer, there’s a fierce bite to tonight’s temperature. It’s in his nature to protect, a bodyguard and a butler in one, which is precisely why he frets when he notices you’re dressed in a thin nightgown and a silk robe.

You’re stunning regardless of your attire. He’s always thought so. A hopeless observation, for you have never belonged to him and thus those words will remain a scandal under lock and key.

“My lady?” He approaches with even steps, his voice a gentle whisper. Despite his best efforts, you still flinch at his sudden arrival. He bows respectfully, a hand held over his heart. “Forgive me for startling you. I noticed you weren’t in bed when I came to check on you, and so I thought I might find you here.”

“Am I really so predictable?”

“Quite.” He chuckles at the pout that twists on your lips. “Admittedly, my advantage is rather unfair. I’ve known you long enough to commit all of your habits and haunts to memory.”

“You’re too good. It’s not fair…”

“Is everything all right?” Jade moves to shrug his tailcoat off, aiming to drape it across your shoulders for extra layering, but you stop him. “My lady?”

“I’m not cold. Thank you, though.”

Jade nods slowly and slides his arms back into the sleeves. “May I ask what’s keeping you up? It’s unlike you to visit the garden so late.”

“It’s nothing major. Just thinking too much about too many things. If that makes any sense…”

He hums in acknowledgement. You fidget on your bare feet. Some days Jade thinks you’d wander to your death if it weren’t for him. Having suspected this, he made sure to bring your shoes. Guiding you to the marble bench at the end of the pathway, where the space opens into a clearing enclosed with shaped shrubbery, Jade lowers to his knees.

“A princess shouldn’t dirty her feet so carelessly,” he reminds you, taking hold of your foot and gingerly sliding your shoe on.

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“In polite society, yes, very much so.”

“Polite society is the worst. How am I meant to frolic in the flowers as the fairy tales intended if I can’t even take my shoes off for such a thing?”

“You may do so in your dreams.”

“It’s not the same.”

Jade gazes at your legs from where he kneels. Should his gaze climb any higher… He snuffs that thought before it can take root. “Perhaps not, but the world within a dream is lenient and lawless. You’re free to break every rule you desire.”

He offers you his arm and you take it. Lifting you from the bench, he walks with you and admires lush blossoms alongside you. Sweet is the night breeze, bringing recollections of a childhood that has long since fled. Watching you, future heir to the throne, from afar, an unimportant butler-in-training… You’ve always been his world—the center of his vision. The single flower in a garden infested with weeds.

What he’d do to pick you and put you in a pot of his own making. To keep you solely because it is the whim of a selfish heart caught up in foolish, one-sided limerence.

“What would you do? In your dreams, I mean. If you could experience any dream, what would it be?”

Jade peers at you, taken aback. “You’re asking me?”

“No, I’m asking the flowers.” Playfully, you reach up to pat his head. He leans down to meet your hand halfway, a smile gracing his features. How fervently he wishes you would touch him with more purpose. If only your individual stations were not so far apart. If only he could become your equal just for tonight and know rapture under your fingertips. “Yes, Jade, I’m asking you.”

It’s not a calculated risk, for he knows the outcome will never be in his favor, but he acts on impulse anyway. He seizes your hand. You flinch away, surprised by this forthright display, but he holds firm. He’s determined to see this through to the end, even if it lands him a heart more shattered than when he began.

“I would become a prince and marry you.”

Much to his chagrin, you laugh. “That’s quite the lofty dream. A funny one, too.”

He squeezes your hand, insistent. “That is the truth.”

“It’s not.” You meet his mismatched stare. “It… It’s not, right? Surely you jest.”

“I have always admired you, my lady.” Testing his limits, he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Though you may be forever out of my reach and I may be but a mere servant, that does not stop me from loving you any less.”

Your face falls. There is no reciprocation to be found in your gaze. He suspected this from the beginning, but it does nothing to soothe the sting.

He grasps your other hand, hoping to bestow a kiss to it as well, but you jerk away so quickly that you trip over your feet and land in a heap on the grass. He doesn’t make any move to help you up. Not yet, at least. Lying sprawled on your back, you watch him with uncertain eyes.

“How long?”

“The day your father rescued me and brought me in—you offered your hand to me, and you told me I would never know the dangers of the sea again.” Jade stands over you, observing the many emotions flickering on your face, before lowering to your height. He straddles you with ease. “I had never known such kindness until then.”

“Ah, right… I remember that day. You were injured so severely they put you on bedrest. You had to learn how to walk all over again.”

“In spite of everything they told you about me, you visited me regardless. Every day, at every hour, to bring snacks and toys. To cheer me up. To wish for my swift recovery. To act as my crutch. For that, I am forever grateful.” His hands slide your nightgown up, and he feasts on the sight of your panties—on the way you draw your thighs together to hide from him. “I have always stood dutifully by your side, hoping to repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”

You look delicate in the grass, your robe slipping from your shoulders. Like a pinned butterfly or an angel having just fallen from the sky, you’re a sugared fantasy brought to life.

“Jade.” You grab at his shoulders and push back weakly; he doesn’t budge. “We… We shouldn’t. I can’t. If someone were to see—”

“They won’t.”

“Yes, but I—” you turn away from him, worrying your lip between your teeth— “I can’t, Jade… I’m betrothed. F-Furthermore, it’s not safe without…protection. You can’t.”

He smiles fondly, so sickly, stupidly enchanted. With the moon just behind his head, framing it like a hazy halo, you might mistake him for an angel. His actions suggest he’s anything but.

Lifting his index finger to his lips, he shushes you. “In that case, let’s play pretend for tonight—just as we used to—and trap ourselves in a dream.”

Your refusal falls on deaf ears.

Hands crawl along the expanse of your body, feeling everything within reach. He’s overjoyed to behold you, to press down on the space between your legs and savor your staggered breaths. You plead with him all throughout it, begging him to cease now and he’ll be spared. But Jade can’t. If it kills him, he wants to have died knowing he was on cloud nine.

This has always been his dream.

For tonight, he is neither prince nor butler. For tonight, he is simply a monster—the same monster your maids warned you against when you were little: “That cursed child is no good. He will bring ruin to your father—to you, Your Highness. You must keep away, for a child of the sea is a child of destruction and agony.”

The same monster who looked on with a single golden eye, lying in wait like the perfect predator and wearing the skin of a human to hide his true identity. The same monster who took to training as if it were second nature, honing his skills as a butler and a bodyguard. Hardening a heart that has never had the capacity to care for anything other than himself and the ones who have since departed.

The same monster who loves the human he ought to hate, for it is your kind who hunt the waters he was conceived in. Who spear merfolk with harpoons and feast on their flesh and eggs like it’s a sacred delicacy. Who arrange their skeletons in aureate frames. Who mount their taxidermied tails to the wall.

The same monster who, in some distant fairy tale, could have been a king if not for the devastation of his family tree.

Dewy grass sticks to your skin. The scent of moist earth envelops you in its verdant embrace. Jade sinks in slowly, holding you down by your hips. You squirm and cry, but he persists. He could be cruel and callous, rut into you like an animal instead of a lover, but he refrains. He loves you too much, and that hurts more than any pain he could inflict on you.

You dig your nails into his shoulders. If they were sharper, you might have been able to tear through his uniform. Sweet, soft moans spill from pretty, plush lips. He kisses you, adoring the hold your walls have on him when he rolls his hips to fill you deeper.

“Jade… Jade, please,” you ramble, breathing hot and heavy in his ears. It’s musical, the way you sing for him through your tears. “Oh, please pull out. I—aah—can’t… We can’t. Please, Jade.”

Perhaps it would have been easier to hate you and your father—detest the kingdom who has rendered his home an aquatic graveyard. Surrounded in a garden of exotic blooms, Jade thinks that’s impossible. Love born from hate is thorny, impossible to quell once it’s come to fruition. It’s dug its roots into his heart and given way to the most fearsome flower.

He should have killed you. He should have held that pillow over your face all those years ago when he snuck into your bedroom, silent as a shadow. He should have, but he didn’t—couldn’t. And now he’s here, towering over you without the pillow. His hands stray towards your throat, but instead of an execution he drags you against his chest. He can’t.

Years later and he still can’t fulfill his one and only childhood dream.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes glittering. “How I wish you were as ugly as your heart…”

Raindrops spatter your face, a quiet downpour spilling from heterochromatic hues.

You fall apart beneath him, ruined in ways polite society would deem grossly impure.

Now we’re the same, Jade thinks, bowing his head when he reaches his peak. He groans lowly, his eyes squeezed shut. Monsters without homes.

Come morning, the palace is in a panic. The princess has vanished, seemingly whisked away into the night, and the only one who may have any information on her whereabouts has gone with her. Jade doesn’t worry.

No one will find you at the bottom of the sea, unrecognizable as a mermaid in an abandoned coral kingdom.

On his empty throne, he knows of no better place.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: noncon #lunar love hotel 2023

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

i never request things but i wanted to know if i could request something fluffy and angsty with like the reader and spencer being early in the relationship and spencer says i love you to the reader for the first time

Hi babe! Thanks for requesting :)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 671 words

“I can’t believe you flashed the badge at them,” you giggle, almost stumbling down the sidewalk. “I mean, you may as well have taken out your gun!”

“A badge is not the same as a gun,” Spencer corrects you, his hands hovering cautiously nearby in case you really do fall over from laughing so hard. “Anyway, those guys needed to know that they can’t just do that.”

“They were catcallers!” You cry, giggles starting anew. “What were you going to do, arrest them?”

“Maybe.”

“For what?”

“I’d worry about that when we got to the station.”

You guffaw, and he gives you a little smile.

“I appreciate the chivalry, Spence,” you say, bumping your hip into his amicably and delighting when he blushes, “but don’t ruin your career on my behalf. I can handle some catcallers.”

“I’m sure you can,” he allows, “but it’s my job to make sure you don’t have to.” You smile, wondering whether he means professionally or as your boyfriend. “Anyway, I love my job, but I think that’s a hill I could stand to die on. I love you, and—” It’s like the words turn to breath in his throat. Spencer looks over at you, eyes wide and unsure, and your heart contracts. It’s all you can do not to wince. “I’m sorry, that—that just slipped out. I didn’t—I know it’s early.”

You wave him off, plastering on your breeziest smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I do that all the time—like, one time, I was on the phone with my boss and I went to hang up and said it.” You clear your throat. “It happens.”

“That’s…yeah.” Spencer’s blushing something fierce, gaze tracking your synced footfalls on the sidewalk. “Actually, just to be honest with you, I didn’t mean to say it so soon, but I do…mean it.”

“Oh.” Oh shit.

“But like I said, I know it’s really early.” Neither of you will quite look at each other, though you suspect Spencer’s utilizing those profiling skills for all they’re worth right now. None of your thoughts are ever truly secret from him. “I don’t want to put pressure on you.”

You can’t stand the nerves in his voice anymore, and when you stop and set a hand on his arm, your smile is genuine. “I know you don’t,” you promise him. “Spence, I really, really care about you.” You can feel a cold sweat starting under your arms. The last thing you want to do is ruin this, but you have to be honest with him. “I think, for me, it does still feel a bit early, but…I mean, I know this sounds like a cop-out, but I really feel like I’m almost there, if that makes sense?” You half expect Spencer to pull away, but his eyes stay on yours, kindly curious. “I’ve just, I’ve never been in love before, and I’m really serious about this thing.” You smile anxiously, and his lips tilt upward in return. “I want to be two hundred percent sure before I say it, you know? I want it to really count.” You shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t know if any of that made sense.”

“Hey.” Spencer’s voice is gentle, as is his hand when it seeks out yours. He intertwines your fingers. “That makes perfect sense. Thank you for being honest with me. I would never want you to say it if you’re not sure, you know?”

You nod, relieved. “Exactly.”

“All right then.” He smiles at you, giving your fingers a little squeeze. “So now do you get why I’d risk wrongful arrest for you?”

“No.” You start walking again, tugging him along. “I don’t know, I just feel like it’s too early in the relationship to make you lose your job for me, you know? We can turn around and harass those catcallers back if it’ll make you feel better, though.”

Spencer pretends to consider it. “Are you going to ask me to take out my gun?”

“Nah. Badge is just as good.”

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blindmagdalena · 10 months

Text

Resignation

Summary: 18+ 1.5k homelander x reader, established relationship, dirty talk, thigh riding, grinding.

After you have a particularly rough day at work, Homelander offers you some sound career advice, and a little stress relief.

spiritual successor to Customer Service, but stands alone. this is for everyone who's sick of this capitalist hellscape, and the crummy jobs we're forced to work to survive. not proofread, we die like men. 🖤

Another day, another dollar, another near meltdown.

You spend most of your commute home trying to pull yourself together. After the day you’ve had at work, the last thing you need to do is burst into tears before you even made it home. It’s taking everything in you to keep it at bay.

There’s just something about you that apparently screams Hey! Abuse me! in the workplace.

At least you’ve got something to look forward to when you get home.

Or rather, someone.

“I’m home,” you announce tiredly, stepping inside. You kick your shoes off, and despite your mood, you smile at the pair of tall red boots that sit next to them. It took some convincing to get him to take them off consistently, but ever since he’s started spending more and more time hiding out at your place, you’ve insisted on some ground rules

“Living room,” Homelander calls back.

Walking in, you find him crouched in the living room, staring at your cat with a level of intensity you’re not sure what to make of. “Uh, something going on here?”

“Yep,” he answers evenly. “Asserting dominance.”

You watch your cat blink slowly before lazily rising, stretching into a wide yawn, and hopping down to greet you. Homelander stands, scoffing triumphantly. “I won.”

“Uh-huh,” you give back distractedly, bending down to scritch your cat's ears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, frowning as he approaches. “Your eyes are all red.”

“Hard day,” you tell him, readily accepting his encroaching embrace. You sink easily into his arms, noting that his gloves are off today. That’s new. You slip your arms around his neck, your body tired and heavy as you trust him with the full weight of it. He holds you up effortlessly.

He exhales a huff of hot air right by your ear that gives you goosebumps. “Quit,” he says, his voice set low.

“That’s what you always say.” “Because I mean it,” he shoots back fiercely, pulling away to meet your gaze. “Quit. Fuck those assholes already. You don’t need them. You have me,” he says, reiterating a conversation the two of you have had at least a dozen times now.

Money is nothing to him. He could buy you out for three times your salary for the rest of your life with his pocket change.

“I can’t just not work,” you say, pulling your hands down from his neck to lay flush on his chest. “I need my job.”

“The only thing you need is me,” he stresses again, kissing you. He always feels like he’s restraining himself when he touches you, holding himself back from moving too hard, too fast, from devouring. It’s thrilling to lose yourself in. “Why do you insist on tormenting yourself?

Stomach fluttering, you can’t help but laugh at the slight petulance that slips into his voice. “Because if I give up and let you take care of me, you might get bored, and then I’ll have nothing,” you say, and though you mean to make a joke of it, to fill your voice with playful whimsy, the confession lands harder than you expected it to. You’re tired, you’re stretched thin, and as your own words sink in, you realize just how bad it’s gotten.

Homelander withdraws, leveling you with a look that confirms it: that wasn’t a joke, and neither of you are amused.

You blink several times, suddenly speechless. “I…” You realize your eyes are burning again, and with every blink, your vision gets more bleary. “I just meant…”

“Do you really believe that?” He asks, his brows pinched.

“No,” you answer reflexively, voice too sharp even to your ears. “No, not that… I don’t know, I was trying to make a joke, but maybe… I don’t know. I get scared sometimes,” you say carefully, trying desperately not to spill the tears gathering in your eyes. “That someday I’m not going to be enough because y–”

His lips meet yours before you can continue, muffling the rest of your sentence. His hands are impossibly warm as they sweep up your back, eventually cupping either side of your neck. He kisses you like he’s starving, like he needs the taste of you to breathe, like he would die without you. He kisses you until your brain feels foggy and there’s a dull throb between your legs.

“You’re ridiculous,” he all but growls against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I’m not going to get bored. Good fucking luck getting out of this one,” he says, slipping a hand to the back of your neck and squeezing for emphasis. You shiver, your tears lost in the wake of the slow rolling heat moving through your body. “Besides, you know damn well you’re the one who’ll be taking care of me.”

You can feel his smirk against your lips, and you laugh unexpectedly, the sound of it bordering on the sob you had very nearly fallen to. “You need a babysitter now?”

“Why, are we roleplaying? That’s pretty naughty,” he purrs.

“Stop it,” you laugh, pushing his face away, but he doesn’t relent.

“What? Sexy babysitter could be fun,” he says, kissing a trail up your neck.

“Pervert,” you accuse, turning your face to kiss him. He accepts greedily, tongue slipping between your lips. You sigh a soft moan into his mouth, which only encourages his hands to wander even more, eventually settling on your ass. Without warning, he grabs tight and hauls you up, hitching your legs around his waist, swallowing up the startled gasp you give.

He settles down onto the couch, and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his thigh. You can feel the magnitude of his strength thrumming between your legs, pressed up tight against that same throbbing heat he ignited in you with those fervent kisses.

Cupping your face, he pulls you down for more of the same.

“Go ahead,” he says against your lips, his own curved into a gloating smile. “Grind. I can smell how bad you want it.” His voice is low, as coarse and sweet as raw sugar. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, worsening the pulse of your need.

Immediately, you start to rock your hips, grinding down against him. He rewards you with a hand on your thigh, squeezing as it slides slowly higher, his thumb skirting along your inner thigh. “No more stress,” he murmurs, the words warm on your lips. “No more tears. Just you… with me… mine.”

The way he rumbles that word against your ear sends a shiver trilling up and down your spine, the heat at the center of you spiraling up, up, up, blossoming throughout your entire body. He flexes his thigh and gives you one sharp little bounce on it, wringing a moan out of you. You roll your hips faster, tightly clenching your thighs on either side of his. You push both hands up into his hair and hold on tight, panting into the crook of his neck.

Homelander slips both hands back to your ass, gives a generous squeeze while he helps your body move, rolling it in time with the way he flexes and occasionally bucks his thigh against you. “Say it. Say you’ll quit, and you’ll be all mine,” he demands softly, grip flexing on you. There’s a neediness at the edges of his voice. “Give me that. Give me you.”

You screw your eyes shut, keening breathlessly. The grind of fabric against sensitive skin is almost too much, too dry, but it’s fucking good, too. You’re getting wetter and wetter, losing yourself to the relentless pace he sets for you, and the hungry way he kisses at your throat.

“C’mon. Give it up. Give me everything. M’never letting you go,” he pants, at which point you realize he’s also grinding against your leg. The arousal–the sheer animalistic need–in his voice makes your stomach flip, and with one last shuddering noise, you’re coming against his leg, moaning loud in his ear as the wave of pleasure slowly wrings out every last bit of tension that you had been holding onto.

You collapse against him, your arms hanging limply around his neck. He nuzzles at your jaw, kissing a trail to your lips. You reciprocate lazily, your eyes closed as you luxuriate in the aftershocks of the unexpected release.

“Quit,” he whispers persistently, lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “We’ll take care of each other.”

“This is playing dirty,” you slur, feeling stupefied in your post-orgasm haze.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he says, taking your hand from around his neck, and slipping it between his legs. You bite your tongue. Christ, he runs fucking hot. Even through the fabric of his suit, you can feel the throb of his cock. “You’re gonna be writing your resignation letter in my cum by the end of the night.”

You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and an unsteady moan, clenching against his thigh. “Okay,” you say, lifting your head to kiss him. “Prove it.”

Much to Homelander’s delight, you submit your notice of resignation the very next day.

#i banged this out rly fast bc i notice lotta folks struggling at work lately and i just wanted to offer some support ;;#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #smut

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my-love-is-sunlight · 3 days

Text

Wedding bells

Sanji x gardener!reader

This is an amazing request from @secretlife028

Warnings: from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, fem reader in mind but no pronouns used, WCI spoilers? But very vague, angst to fluff, good ending

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: In which you say I love you to Sanji in the worst scenario

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

You were in love with Sanji

That was something clear for everyone that had spent time with both of you. Your eyes following his mastered hands as he chopped the ingredients for dinner, the soft glances and sweet thank you’s you’ll grace the cook with whenever he offered you his delicious meals, your presence after midnight as he cleaned the kitchen a reminder of your unspoken love and affection.

You never thought about whether he would love you the same, the love you gave away was honest and non refundable. You loved because you wanted to

Something the cook was not used to, he was the kind of person to melt at any bit of attention, sign of affection or even acknowledgement, but he allowed himself to be loved by you

But that felt like a lifetime ago. Simpler times where you’ll wake up in the Going Merry, your crew mates laughter in the distance and the smell of fresh breakfast in the morning.

Now here you stand, in front of the man you had wrapped your heart in a bow for, leaving

“Why are you doing this?” You looked at Sanji who was just a feet away but felt like he had left already, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours

“That doesn’t concern you” your heart clenched once more at the stern voice leaving his mouth, that tender tone he once spoke to you with long gone, like a hazy memory

Vines grew on the cooks legs, like you were begging for him to stay and comeback to himself, holding him in place before you, breath shaky like you were about to break

“Sanji speak to me!” You were making this awfully difficult for him, he knew you’ll try and fight but didn’t expect you to be this fierce. Your voice echoed trough his thoughts like a haunting lullaby trying to wake him up from this awful nightmare

“There’s nothing left to say y/n” liar, Sanjis heart held so much unspoken feelings, words, intentions, so much love for you. You frantically took his hand in yours as you wrapped it around in blooming flowers grass and branches, like a grounding spell

“Stop this” you begged

“You’re the one that should stop”

“You want me to stop loving you Sanji?” His breath hitched, the air in his lungs trapped in his throat, he couldn’t have missheard you since you spoke loud and clear, unafraid and so certain. What once was difficult now felt impossible, of course you decided this was the time you’d let the L word roll out of your tongue, now that he couldn’t answer, that he couldn’t say a word of how he actually felt. His heartbeat accelerated in fear, he had dreamed of this moment of you before him saying this, but it didn’t quite went this way

“Because you know damn well I can’t” was the last thing you said before the blonde pulled away from your hold, loosing your balance at the force in his movement, breaking both of your hearts

“Too bad, because you have to… please stop”

So you stopped, standing silently as the love of your life left

You had never admitted this to anyone before, but as Nami held your sad trembling frame in a tight hug you couldn’t help but to say

“Why am I always left behind?” every single word spoken in a broken whisper, merely making it out of your parted lips, but Nami catches it and she can’t help but to wince, like she could feel the deep cut in your heart

“I promise you we’ll get him back”

And you did, but walking into a wedding wasn’t exactly how you expected this rescue would go

The lights jumping from the white garments fry your brain, the wedding bells making your ears bleed and your vision blurry with water that falls from your eyes. Why her? Why now? You knew there was a possibility for Sanji to not reciprocate your love, but reality just hits you now as you see him holding another woman’s hands in his, as he is about to make a promise that you wished accompanied your name after it. Thorns growing out of your frame like venom

But, you got him back

Not a word is exchanged between the two of you in the ride back to The Sunny, your minds busy replaying the mix of emotions you both had gone trough the last few days

Sanji cannot get your voice saying I love you out of his

Your mind flashing images of Sanji and Pudding at the altar

What was there to say after that?

“Thank you for saving me, flower” he whispers as he settles at your side, Nami’s eyes open like dishes as she listens quietly, praying to whatever god is out there that the blonde doesn’t screw things up more with you

“No problem” the icy tone and your numb expression makes him miss your sweet smile, warm laugh and twinkling eyes he was once graced with to see everyday

Another silence follows, a painful one. A silence that makes him realize what he had made you feel

But he’s lucky you’re the most understanding, kind and benevolent being that has walked this earth

His eyes lock in your fidgeting hands, flowers growing from the inside of your palms in anticipation. With the outmost delicacy, he breaks trough them and takes one of the flowers making you gasp, his skin against yours sending electric shocks around your body

He gets on one knee like the dramatic fool he is, the navigator face palming knowing this was to expect from her friend. You stay still

“I am sorry… I have hurt you, an unforgivable sin, I deserve whatever punishment you wish to bestow upon me” his words waiver, as if trying to formulate the best way to get his feelings across and make you come back to him, to open like a sunflower under the beaming sun

“However” your eyes travel to his, getting lost in the endless sea behind them, praying for him to say the magic 3 words

“I hope my confession suffices as an offer worthy of your forgiveness” he pauses as he places the flower in your waving hair, so tender like you were made out of the most precious porcelain that could break at his touch

“I love you y/n, and I hope your love for me remains in your heart… at least a little”

You stay quiet, the expectancy making poor Sanji’s heart to jump like a firecracker, breaths heavy with hope and nervousness. And you break, because how could you not? You knew everything that happened was not to blame on him, in fact, he was much of a victim as you were, if not even more tragic for his own past to come and haunt him down just after he had found a life he could enjoy. With another batch of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile

A smile that melts Sanji like an ice cream on the hottest summer day, a smile he had prayed for to see at least once again, even if he wasn’t the reason behind it. Yet here you were smiling at him, for him, with him

You jump down to his arms, holding him tightly as your hearts dance in opposite directions of your ribcage’s, finally complete

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met” you say between half sobs half giggles, you pull away to look at him again “But you’re my idiot”

Usually Sanji would be nothing less than a gentleman and had asked you for permission, but today, he decides to indulge and just crash his lips into yours

Finally

Nami just rolls her eyes and Luffy laughs, content to finally see his dearest friends make up

Sanji’s finally home

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Had an absolute blast writing this hope you like it as much as I do, ty for the request

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