#maybe these can help you with your flash cards too ^_^

[reignpage]

Moon's light

Summary: in which alien!reader gets hurt and Gojo's left with more questions than answers about who you are Word Count: 3k Warnings: angsty, cursing, fem alien!readersome sexual language and references, not proofread and highkey made in a rush >_< Previous Parts: Finders Keepers + Lights Show + Movie Night + Bubble Bubble

Day 32

“Oh no.” He surges forward, falling to his knees. “No no no, E. What happened?”

Satoru had just finished a mission. Excited, he teleported back into his apartment, hoping to see you all cute, sweet and offering some cuddles so he can relax after a long five minutes of serious adulting. What he wasn’t hoping to see, however, was you holding a large knife and bleeding on the kitchen floor.

Wrapping a tea towel around your hand, he cradles your body to his. You’re not crying. You’re not even wincing. Instead, you’re just looking at the blue, gloopy liquid oozing out of the deep wound on your palm. Do aliens of your kind not feel pain? 

No, that can’t be the case; you winced when he scissors his fingers inside your pussy. Forcing a calm voice, he queries, “What happened, E? What did you do?”

You reply, “I hold wrong.”

His head slumps back against the cabinet. This is his fault. He should have taught you better, shouldn’t have shielded you from the kitchen. He should have been here. At home. With you.

When you fell from the night sky, there wasn’t a single scratch on your body, not even a bruise. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he assumed you were invincible, but now, as his hands shake and he gulps down the tight knot of guilt and shame building in his throat, he thinks, maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

It’s been a month since he met you and you’ve progressed so much. You shower on your own, understand plots of movies without much assistance, you read books, albeit children’s and with pictures but soon you’ll be getting up his level, he’s sure, and even help him clean the house. No longer does he worry about his things having teeth marks from your oral exploration or being randomly flashed because you don’t understand the concept of modesty. The routine has been great.

Maybe it’s this bliss in the routine that led him to a foolish sense of complacency.

“E, you don’t have special healing powers, do you? Like me? With my reverse curse technique.” Satoru’s been slowly trying to teach you about his abilities and the reality of his world but it hasn’t been his priority, what with him being distracted by your hips grinding down on his cock almost 24/7. So, when you shake your head, a little confused, he isn’t surprised. “But you do heal, right?”

You shrug.

The blue blood continues to drip from you, steadily. Inspecting the wound, he wonders what to do. He can’t take you to the hospital; they’ll question your blue blood. And there’s no alien expert to turn to – you don’t even seem to know much about yourself. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

Well, there is one person he could take you to, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be of any help. Maybe they’ll even call the authorities on you. 

This could go very wrong. 

But what choice does he have?

He can’t leave you like this. He can’t just hope your wound will fix itself. And what if you get an infection? Can aliens get infected? Fuck. What if you’re already infected? 

If you are, then he’ll, like, suck the infection out of you so you two can die together. Alright. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, he tells himself. Death is not on the cards. Not for you. Never. Not while he can help it. 

Satoru has no idea what he’s doing. Truthfully, he’s just relieved your blood isn’t acidic and burning a hole through his skin and the floor.

There’s nothing to do but to hope for the best with the only choice he has. Pressing a kiss to your head, he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. Just trust Toru, alright?”

And in a flash, he’s in a dimly lit room, which smells of alcohol and death. He never wanted to bring you here – it’s a dark side to what he does and if he could have helped it, you would have never seen this. Being a place he doesn’t frequent often, the white-haired man inspects the place reflexively; no danger, no change, and just one unimpressed looking woman. 

“So, the moron’s finally decided to grace my workspace,” she drawls. “How flattering.”

Usually, he’d grin and try to go in for a hug, only to be lovingly punched in the gut and thrown across the room, but at the moment, he doesn’t have it in him to smile and he already feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “Hey, Shoko. I need your help.”

Her dull eyes fall on the figure cuddled up to his side, dripping blue onto her floor. She places her pen down and leans back in her swivel chair, not at all put off to see him here.

Sleeve tugged, he looks down. “Say hi, E. She’s a friend. She’s going to take care of you.”

“Help fix my hand?” When Satoru nods, you frown, mulling something over for a second before your eyes meet Shoko’s. “Hi. Fix my hand now.”

He clears his throat. “Sorry, Sho. I haven’t really taught her about please and thank yous.”

“I’m sure you haven’t, since, y’know, you’re not the biggest advocator of those words yourself.” The man can’t rebut that. “So, are you going to explain what you’re doing here or are you just going to let her stain my floors blue?”

Right. Where to begin?

Moments later, once he’s run through a long spiel, explaining the last month of his life, he presents you to the doctor. Confused, though happy to be here, you just smile at the stranger. Said stranger tilts her head and looks at Satoru. 

“An alien. Really?” She drawls.

“Yeah, I know. It’s weird and unbelievable but true! And she’s not dangerous, I promise. Please, Shoko. When I first met her, she was durable. Like, not even a single scratch. How many people do you know who can fall from space, land on a van and not have a bruise? And now? She’s cut herself and she’s bleeding but it’s blue and I’m totally freaking out, okay?”

Shoko sighs. She does that a lot these days. For a second, he thinks she might wave them away or reach for her phone. None can blame her, he supposes. Harbouring an extraterritorial is a crime, he assumes at least. And it’s not as if she’s doing nothing in her time – she’s even more busy than he is. Shouldering the repairs of jujutsu society can’t be an easy job and there’s probably something to be said about the direction their friendship has taken over the years, though there’s not enough time to get into it. He couldn’t and wouldn’t fault her if she wanted nothing to do with his most recent shenanigans. 

But, if she had decided to make a stand, to get the authorities involved, to dare snatch you away, then Satoru will not hesitate to snuff her where she stands. 

Thankfully it doesn’t get to that because Shoko, the amazing, wonderful friend that she is, beckons you over. 

“I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t get your hopes up; I was never taught about alien anatomy.”

You sit on a stool, being examined professionally like you didn’t come from the stars, like you don’t have blue blood, and a bioluminescent body. Pride blooming in his chest, he smiles. There was a fear tickling the back of his neck that maybe you wouldn’t be so��receptive to strangers. Yet, you’re following instructions well and not chomping at his friend’s fingers for going near your wound. Oh, he’s going to smother you in kisses later.

No step is overlooked. Your blood pressure is taken. So is a blood sample. She tests your reflexes, temperature and dental hygiene. Shoko asks questions — some you can answer with no trouble and others, Satoru has to step in and provide a response.

Leaning against a cold, metal slab, he says, “Her body’s pretty similar to ours, I think. Apart from a few surprises like glowing lights and the blue blood, things seem normal. She does run a little hot inside but I think that’s not too weird.”

Slowly, Shoko turns her head and cocks an extremely judgemental eyebrow. “You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s ears heat up. “No! No, we haven’t…done that.”

“Right. So, you’ve gone through the trouble of inspecting her insides for me, is that it?”

“Don’t say it like that, Sho.” He groans. “I wasn’t perving on her or anything. We have a connection.”

Dragging the word out, she clarifies, “A connection.”

“Yeah! A connection. We get along well.”

“That’s so very inte–woah!”

You’ve bitten Shoko’s arm through her lab coat. She shakes you off. You don’t latch off. Satoru lunges forward and urges your jaw to loosen. Guess you’ve been feeling left out or jealous. He can’t say he’s not slightly happy about the possessiveness. It’s quite nice, actually. Wait. No. He should be discouraging this, reassuring you, and defending his friend. Right. Yep. “Okay, okay. It’s alright, E. She’s a friend, remember, baby? Just a friend. Don’t hurt her please. Toru’ll be really upset with you.”

An apologetic look is sent to the woman. Complemented with a nuzzle at Satoru’s comforting palm.

Painfully, he can smell the judgement oozing from Shoko’s pores. Even when she steps back and rubs her sore arm, the doctor eyes the two of them, watching as he brushes your cheek and whispers something soothing against your lips.

There’s no telling what’s running through her head and he doesn’t have it in him to ask. So, he keeps an arm around your body and queries instead, “Got any idea what’s happening?”

A moment passes. 

One could quite literally cut the tension in half, or however the saying goes. 

Then, she sighs. Why does she keep sighing? 

“I only have a theory.” Leaning against the wall, she crosses her arm and drawls out, completely bored, like whatever scathing thought she had about Satoru has washed away, along with all the many scathing thoughts she’s had about the sorcerer, “Her skin is hardened at parts and soft in others. I had trouble penetrating her skin to get to her veins, which aren’t placed where they are in the human body, with the needle. She’s cold in certain patches of her skin and her pulse is irregular.”

Taking note as best as he can, he lets you play with his fingers absentmindedly. You’re not at all interested in anything anyone other than him has to say.

“I believe there’s been an inconsistent spread of something she’s missing in her day-to-day or diet. You hiding her away so you can grope her hasn’t done her any good.” Satoru automatically tries to argue but a sharp glare has him shutting it up just as soon as it opens. “If my theory is correct, then she needs something like moonlight — let it be known that this theory of mine only comes from the movies we used to watch as teens so don’t hold me to that — the longer she goes without this missing thing, the more her body will weaken until her entire skin is soft and susceptible to more cuts.”

He sighs. Oh, great, it’s contagious. “Moonlight? That’s it? She’s a nocturnal plant? Okay, great. That’s easy.”

“Yeah, well it’s only a theory, like I said. If I’m wrong, there’s not really anything else I can do. She didn’t know what the healthy bpm is for her kind or how she got here to begin with; there’s only so much I can do with what you’ve provided me. Normally, I’d run more tests but it’s unclear, and risky, to make her undergo any kind of testing before we know her compatibility with our immune system so try the moonlight thing first and let me know if it works.”

Satoru nods, already tuning her out and excited to begin your healing journey. There’s a new movie he promised to watch with you and he can’t wait for much longer. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“She seems to have memory loss. I don’t see any signs of trauma to her head, but there must be something to explain her lack of understanding and knowledge of her own existence and essence. I’m not sure how communicative she is, but if I were you, I’d start asking questions about where she’s from, why she’s here, and when she’s going.”

Satoru frowns. 

“Thanks for your help. I got it from here.”

And, as quick as he arrived, he leaves.

“Not home, Toru?” 

He shakes his head.

Taking the doctor’s advice, he teleported straight to the rooftop terrace and not into your shared home. If more moonlight is what you need, then more moonlight is what you’ll get. In fact, if he could, he’d give you all the moonlight in the world. He sits down onto a lawn chair and pulls you into his lap. You’re wearing jogging pants and a big shirt – his shirt. Both are pulled off your body, leaving you in just your underwear; maximising the surface area would lead to optimal moonlight absorption and the more you absorb, the faster you’ll heal, right?

It’s a good thing, he supposes, that the moon is full and the sky is clear tonight. He wonders how often he’d need to do this with you. Best to do it frequently probably. Just in case.

In silence, you two sit there, alone and feeling like things are going right once more. You’re nuzzled into his hold whilst Satoru ponders about the last bits of advice Shoko gave. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. Who was she to assume he hadn’t been asking questions? 

Because, of course, he has!

Duh.

His curiosity about you is never ending but he can’t rush you. You’re learning so much so fast and overloading you would be the last thing he’d want.

And how dare she talk about you like that?

Like you’re a stray he picked up. You’re a person. His person. It’s not as if you’re an idiot or a child – you’ve got so much emotional maturity and you can take apart his microwave and put it back together. How many people can do that?

And ‘when you’re going’, seriously?

That’s an insane thought. 

You’re not going anywhere. This is your home now. Sure, he’d love to know more about your home planet and its customs, but that’s as much of that as he cares to know about. There’s no return date on you. You’re not a toy on loan. You haven’t been left in his care for babysitting. How silly to suggest otherwise.

“Toru, you okay?” 

Snapping out of his torrential thoughts, he gazes down at you through his blindfold. Gentle fingers pull it off his face and when his dazzling eyes meet yours, bare and direct, he smiles tenderly. “Yeah, E. I’m okay. Can I see your hand?”

The cut is healing. That was quick. Shoko was right.  Already, it’s closing up. The blood has stopped dripping and soon it’ll be gone, hopefully without a scar to remind either of you two how he’s failed you. 

Kissing the top of your head, he whispers against your hair, “You didn’t know about this moonlight thing?”

You shake your head.

“Do you remember anything from your past? From out there?” The great beyond, of which he’s gesturing to, seems so much bigger now. Very rarely did he ever look up there, but these days, it seems like that’s all he does. 

“Not much. Only little. Home looks like Earth too. People look like me. And you. But no monsters.”

He chuckles. “Lucky you.”

“You worry about what your friend say? When I’m leaving?”

Satoru’s chest tightens. Tense and treading carefully, he asks, “Are you leaving? Is anyone waiting for you?”

“I don’t know.” That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He’d been hoping you’d deny it, say there’s no one else, that you’re not going anywhere and you two can be together forever. Is that too naive? Too hopeful? Too selfish? “I don’t remember. Very blur-ree.”

He can’t push. Won’t. Whether for your good or his, who’s to say?

Squeezing parts of your bare body for comfort, he thanks the heavens, and Shoko (he’ll have to send her a fruit basket or a new corpse to experiment with or something), that you’re healing and he’s learnt a little more about you.

Moonlight and food and a proper education on how to handle sharp objects. The list of things you need is growing and so must his ability to provide all those things for you.

He’ll do anything and everything he can to keep you safe and satisfied. Then there’ll be no reason for you to go anywhere or for anyone to take you. You’re staying here. With him. He’ll kill to make that happen. 

Satoru pinches your chin. Your lips part to receive his. The taste of you, the softness, the warmth – it’s all you and all his. 

Nothing could take this away. 

This is your home.

And you are his. 

[pngblog]

[malusokay]

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part Nine: The Expo

Your eyes widen to saucers as you climb out of John’s work van. The event hall in front of you is huge - the largest in the city. A big, glass dome with a high-end hotel attached. It glows in the morning sun. Lines of people have already formed out front. You passed them on your way around to the vendor entrance. It’s the twentieth anniversary for the Tattoo Expo, apparently, which means they expect massive crowds.

“I hate that Kyle couldn’t come.” You frown as a security worker hands over your badge. It’s fancy - heavy weight with brightly colored, neo-traditional graphics. Something about having the word VENDOR hanging around your neck makes your heart skip.

John sighs, heaving one of the boxes of his books onto your dolly. “Yeah. He tried but he couldn’t get his head out of the toilet long enough to do much of anythin’.”

You wrinkle your nose. Apparently he had caught some nasty stomach bug, poor guy. You thought about calling and checking in on him, but you worried that was too clingy. After… everything, you don’t want to come off as anything other than normal about it. Which you are. Totally normal.

At least Johnny was home for the day to help him out.

“Has Simon ever come?” You ask, titling the dolly pack to push into the convention hall.

John’s arms flex as he fights with his rolling tool box to get the handle back out so he can pull it. He just had to wear a sleeveless muscle tee, didn’t he? It’s rude, frankly. You look over his more rarely exposed shoulder and upper arm pieces - some more faded than others. Some more colorful, some better crafted. Part of you wants to reach out - to trace them the same way you want to with Simon. You want to ask him in detail about each one. Maybe he’ll let you, someday.

“Can you actually picture Simon in a convention hall?” He chuckles eventually, finally getting the toolbox rolling properly.

You laugh. “Guess not.”

The 141 booth sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by a few other big-name shops and figures in the community. You glance around at them, only recognizing a few. You don’t get much time to look around. There are only a couple hours designated for set up and you have to help hang all the flash options, get the cash box sorted, and be ready for the flood when it comes. You’ve mentally prepared for chaos, reading through pretty much every reddit and twitter thread you could find about convention disasters. You know that won’t happen here, and even if something did, John wouldn’t abandon you to it. Still, you feel better being mentally prepared for anything - no matter how unrealistic.

“Why do you still do these?” You ask, pinning one of the large flash sheets to the display board. “I mean - you don’t exactly have to get your name out there.”

“I enjoy them- the community. I was here when this was still bein’ held underground in an old warehouse.” John looks around, eyes scanning the rows of artists. He doesn’t share his thoughts, just stands there quietly for a moment with his hands on his hips. After a few beats he grumbles quietly, “Gettin’ old…”

You focus on setting up the front table where you’ll be stationed. John brought a few prints of work as well as several copies of his book. He brought a few signed ones as well, only selling them for about twenty more bucks than the usual price. You asked why he doesn’t mark them up more, but he just shrugged you off with a mutter of ‘I’m not all that’ before moving on to another task. You decided it was best not to argue that he is, indeed, all that. His books are literally filled until the late fall.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so proud of setting up a decently aesthetically pleasing display all on your own when you’re surrounded by real artists, but you still grin wide with your hands on your hips. It’s simple, with cards for each of the boys lining one sit and a roll of tattoo tickets for the day beside the cash box. The table cloth with the shop’s name looks nearly identical to the sign. One might call it lazy marketing, you find it charming.

“Somethin’ happen with you and Kyle?” John asks suddenly, back turned as he messes with something in his rolling tool box full of supplies.

You freeze, eyes wide and mouth dry. Did Kyle say something? You thought you’d been normal about it. Kyle hadn’t acted any differently - which shouldn’t have hurt your feelings - and you were sure you’d met him with the same level of normalcy. The past weeks race through your mind. Every moment, every interaction, picking each apart into threads in milliseconds.

“Uh, no? Why?” It comes out squeaky. Unsure. Lord, you really are a terrible liar.

John hums. He’s quiet for barely a beat, a moment that seems to stretch for lifetimes. You can almost feel your cells aging while you wait. “You’ve been quieter than usual around him. Just wanted t’make sure.”

“Oh.” Had you? You thought you’d been the same as always. Both of you totally moved on from… the incident. Well, except for those few times you caught yourself staring - zoning out while thinking about the way his lips pressed to yours. Imagining Kyle pulling you into the back room again. Another kiss with less nervousness and more heat. Actually bending you over the desk properly-

“Y’with me, love?” John snaps you back to reality.

“Yeah!” You jump and stutter. “Yeah. No. We’re fine. I’m… fine.”

You wonder if the giant guy in the weird homemade mask at the booth across from yours would smash your head in if you paid him. Let him free you from the torment of embarrassment. It had been eating away at you, if you’re honest with yourself, and now lying right to John’s face just feels… awful. He’ll find out. You know he will. Maybe he already knows as that was a test. Fuck if it was, you totally just failed.

The clock turns to nine, and you have no choice but to let that be a problem for your future self.

Something you realize rather quickly as the attendees begin to flood the hall is that John is a god here. People don’t meet his eye. They speak meekly, even to you, with voices low and faces flushed. The line for your booth stretches down the walkway as soon as the doors open - appointment tickets practically flying out of your hands. You overhear a pair of friends muttering about sleeping outside overnight to get in early enough for John’s booth. It makes your head spin.

You wonder if they’d still act that way if they saw him snoring open-mouthed at the desk in the back room mid-afternoon.

“Thought I heard 141 got a new front desk girl.” A syrupy southern accident lilts above you just as you finish selling tickets. He’s handsome. Blonde and blue eyed with a little scar gracing his cheekbone. Not much younger than John, you don’t think. Probably around Simon’s age.

You slip on your usual customer service smile. “Hello! How can I-”

“Graves.” John grunts behind you, not even looking up from the work in front of him. “What d’you want?”

“Just wanted to come see how you were.” The man - Graves - grins wide. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And to meet your new front of house. Philip.”

You take the hand he holds out, giving a perfunctory shake and your name. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that John doesn’t like this guy, whoever he is, and you’re inclined to trust his judgement. You opt for basic small talk. “Are you an artist?”

Graves nods. “I own Shadow & Co. It’s a few blocks over from your place.”

Oh. You’d heard of them. They came highly recommended when you were looking for artists in the area initially. In the end you opted for John based entirely on vibes. The Shadow building is far too modern - to minimalist - for your liking. Too corporate.

“Y’know, we’re looking for a new desk girl as well.” Graves smiles. You do your best not to sneer at his use of desk girl. “We’re growing pretty quick - even if you wanted to split your time-”

“She’s full time with us.” John snaps - blatant irritation lining the edges of his voice. He still doesn’t turn around.

The blonde man pauses, glancing between you. Something passes over his eyes - some implicit knowing that you don’t quite get - but it’s gone just as fast as it came. He digs into his pocket, flipping open a too-new wallet and pulling out a business card. “Well, if you ever want to work somewhere more exciting-” you nearly laugh at that. “-give us a call, hm?”

You glance up to his face, then back down at the card. John’s tattoo gun continues to buzz behind you, but you can tell he’s slowed down. He’s listening. Before even really thinking you extend your hand, pushing the card he holds away from you.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m very happy here.”

Philip scoffs, dropping the card on the table. “Keep us in mind, yeah?”

He disappears into the crowd easily - blending in just like his shop’s namesake. Your nose wrinkles. You snatch up the card and tear it in two. “Dickhead.”

You think you hear John chuckling behind you, but can’t be sure over the roar of the convention.

The day flies by - people bustle by your booth. You run out of signed books just over halfway through - prints not long after. Your voice feels hoarse from talking to so many people. The hall has grown quite hot and you’re sure that your hair looks insane at this point. Either way, you’re having a great time. You get to talk to a with full body trash polka that you like for some reason. You get to meet one of the people involved in the stage competition - her massive thigh piece holding some of the best color work you’ve ever seen. All in all, despite the discomfort, you think this ranks in your top ten favorite days. Maybe top five.

“Excuse me?” Murmurs a voice so soft you almost miss it entirely over the roar of the convention. When you look up, you’re met with a painfully young face. Definitely not old enough for the 17+ entrance requirement.

“Hi!” You put on your warmest smile. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh, I was just…” They stutter, shifting in place. “I- Are there any signed copies left?”

You look them over, a too-familiar pang in your chest. You know those eyes, that anxiety. The jumpy way they look around at the people passing by and tug at their sleeves. Your teeth sink into your lip and you look over at the three blanks that make up your entire left over stock. Glancing over your shoulder, you see John finishing with his current client - giving the man a firm handshake before turning to clean up his station. There’s a fifteen minute break until the next one - his last for the night - and as much as you don’t want to take up his precious little time to set up…

“Let me check!” You squeak, shaky as you grab one of the blanks with all the subtlety of a brick over the head and cross the few feet over to where John sits. You lean over to speak in his ear, low enough that the kid won’t hear you. “John?”

“Hm?” He hums, turning slightly on his stool.

“Can you sign this one?” You chew your lip. “I know you had a set amount but this kid looks so…”

He glances behind you at the teenager in question, bashfully staring at their feet.

“I’m sorry, I know you need to set up for the next-”

John cuts you off by taking the book from your hands and standing.

“Thanks, dove.” He gives you that lovely, warm smile and rolls his shoulders before making his way over to the front table.

The teenager’s eyes go so wide you think they might pop out of their head. You decide to hang back and not interrupt their moment. John sets the book on the table and grabs a sharpie from your back up stash of pens. The kid mumbles something you can’t understand. John’s voice lowers as well. You can’t hear them, but you watch John scrawl something in the book and hand it over. He pushes away the crumpled, messy wad of cash the teenager tries to give him, shaking his head and saying something else that you don’t catch. The kid looks like they’re about to cry, a wide, wet grin splitting their face as they say goodbye and practically prance away.

You melt, shoulders slouching and what you’re sure is a very stupid smile breaking out across your lips. You don’t know why you doubted him for even a moment.

“What’s that face?” John scoffs, cocking a brow at you.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and re-take your spot at the table.

The ending of the convention is rather uneventful. Some of the other booths begin clearing up early. You take the time to count the cash box - which is absolutely stuffed to the brim. John rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck about five times in the span of a few minutes. Maybe you could convince them to do a company yoga class. It’s easy to see how tense and tired they get. You file that idea away for later.

Luckily most of the booth set up belonged to the venue and, since you sold out of books and prints, you don’t have haul those back to the van. All you have to take is John’s rolling toolbox and tattooing table. All things that easily fit in your bag and dolly. Thank god. Neither of you speak much on the drive back to the shop - opting for comfortable silence. Your ears ring ever so slightly from the noise of the convention hall. When you were in it, you hadn’t realized just how loud it was. John’s eyes are locked on the road, the slight glow from the setting sun warming his skin.

The sun just disappears over the horizon as you put the last of the equipment in the backroom - stacked rather messily but that’s another problem for future you. You’ve been working for a grand total of fourteen hours and, somehow, it still has yet to hit you. Adrenaline and excited energy still pulse under your skin.

John sighs loudly, crossing each arm over his chest to stretch them out. “Could really go for a scotch right now. You want a nightcap?”

Your cheeks warm, still riding high from the excitement of the day you agree easily. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He gives you a gentle smile, softened further by the low street lights. “Let me show you a spot.”

The place John leads you to is small. Local. You sit at the bar and take a moment to look around. Three pool tables take up half the floor space. It looks like a small tournament is going on - a white board showing the matches and who will go against who next. Two ski-ball machines are tucked in a corner beside the bathroom, currently taken up by two younger men who you aren’t completely sure are drinking age. The lights and music are both low. One of the bartenders is posted up on the opposite end of the bar with two other people watching Shin Godzilla on the mounted television. It’s cozy and oh-so very John Price.

You get an easy sipper, something fruity and sweet as a treat for the long day you’ve had. It’s nice against the warmth of the summer evening. A heat that’s only aggravated by the one that settles in your spine whenever the guys are around. John especially.

“Think that kid was a little young for the event…” You blurt in a poor attempt to make conversation.

John nods along. “Definitely.”

“That was really nice of you. I didn’t want to… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure why exactly the words won’t stop. You blame the drinks and exhaustion. Seems realistic enough. “They just seemed so sad.”

“Wasn’t nice. Just the right thing t’do.” John shrugs. His words come slow, almost as if he’s unsure if he should say them. Though, you find it hard to believe he has ever been unsure about anything in his life. “I know what its like… to need t’escape. Lied about my age just to enlist.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really?”

He hums. “They didn’t care much back then.”

For some reason you never thought about John’s childhood - his homelife. You know he has a mom somewhere. Kyle let it slip a couple of times - said she’s a really good cook. John doesn’t volunteer information about himself often, you gathered that much. He’s worse than Simon, somehow, which says a fucking lot.

“Did-” you mull over your words. “You didn’t grow up around here, yeah?”

It’s a clumsy attempt at getting him to talk, but it works well enough. He nods. “Hereford. My mum’s still out there.”

Score. “Do you visit her much?”

John shrugs, chuckling. “When I can. I could move back home and it wouldn’t be enough for her.”

You snicker.

“She’s the best woman I’ve ever known…” He murmurs, eyes far away. It’s only for a moment, but they look past you. Defocused in a way that seems to out of character for the hyper-aware man.

Your faces are close. Hunched in like school kids exchanging secrets and gossip during recess. Your eyes dart from his to his lips and back. It’s confusing. All of this. The intimacy you have with each of them in these moments is overwhelming. You like Kyle - you liked kissing Kyle - you really shouldn’t be wanting that from your boss, though. A co-worker is bad enough but John… John is off limits. You know that. Even so, you find yourself subconsciously leaning just a bit closer, eyes roving over the freckles you don’t see standing further away and the grey flecks in his eyes. You think, for barely a millisecond, that he leans in too.

Until he sits up straight, tossing back what little is left of his drink. “Let’s head out. Could go for a smoke.”

You nod, swallowing down your thoughts and following him out of the bar like a lost puppy. You’d follow him to the end of the earth, you think. Even if it hurts that you can’t get as close as you want, you’d go anywhere for him. Yeah, that’s definitely the drink and tiredness talking. Part of you also knows that it is undoubtedly true.

John rounds a corner to the side of the bar. It’s moderately lit, a single street lamp just down the way giving you just enough light to see. You lean against the wall beside John, the exhaustion beginning to cling to your eyes.

“Are you?” John asks suddenly.

“Hm?” You hum, unsure of what he’s asking about.

“Happy here?” He cuts the end off a cigar he pulled from the silver box that lives in his back pocket.

In the low light of the alley, his pupils overtake most of his irises. Dark and intense as he looks you over from head to toe. You see it, suddenly. The god that the others do. He’s not as physically large as Simon, or as loud as Johnny, but he fills every inch of any space he enters regardless. You suppose you became so used to being in that radius that you forgot just how much presence he carries. You’ve wrapped yourself in it like a blanket. A shield.

Your cheeks warm and you shuffle your feet. “I… yeah.”

“Good.” John sighs out a cloud of smoke. “It’d be a pain in the arse to replace you. The boys care about you too much.”

You stare up at him. You can feel something on the edge of his tone - some weight that you don’t understand. There always seems to be another layer to the things he says. Implications that you can’t understand, context that you’re missing. Part of you wants to ask, needs to ask, but the words get stuck in your throat. What would you say? You’re not even entirely sure what you need to ask. You know they care about you, and you care for them in turn, so why does it feel like there’s something missing?

“Does the boys include you?” You blurt, one again wishing that big guy from the convention was here to smash your head in like wile e. cayote and the anvil.

He looks you up and down, slightly taken aback while you debate on bolting. “Thought that was obvious.”

You scoff, still flustered. “You’re hard to read.”

“Am I, now?”

You nod. A comfortable silence falls over you, despite the awkwardness surely emanating from you. Your lip catches between your teeth, eyes on your feet. “John?”

“Dove?” He tilts his head, once again leaning ever so slightly closer to you.

“Thank you. For everything.” You murmur, voice low and unsure. “It’s… it’s really good here.”

“Think nothin’ of it, love.”

You look up at those pretty blue eyes. They always make your chest ache with some deep hole you haven’t been able to pin down. At first you could blame it on wanting to do well - to be a good employee. It’s more than that, though. It starts in your chest and seeps it’s way through the rest of you. A want. A craving. That’s the word. You crave those eyes on you. The weight of his hands, the fortitude of him.

You’re not sure who closes the gap - whether it’s you or him - but either way it closes. It’s too natural for the context of your relationship. You slot together too well. It’s not like with Kyle. John carries an intensity with him that Kyle never could. His beard scratches not unpleasantly. His lips are warm - you can taste hints of scotch and his cigar. He smells of spice and earth. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders - unsure of where to put them.

This is wrong. It’s messy. You already lied about Kyle, which he’ll surely find out. If he hasn’t already. What about Johnny? Or Simon? Will they think less of you? Are you less for this? For impulsively kissing your boss in some back alley? Will Kyle be angry if he finds out? Your thoughts surge, all chaotic waves crashing against each other in an attempt to make sense of this situation you find yourself in.

John’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms drape around his neck as you push onto your tips toes to meet him.

That’s a problem for future you.

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to escalate it or not but I want to get a move on with these boys

[xplicitviewz]

Eren didn't mean to, but he did personally hire you, there was just something about you…

You were walking around the neighborhood looking for new work- your boss, well, old boss as of 30 minutes ago, just let you go. Deciding against going through the process of answering gigs on Facebook or Craigslist, you start knocking on doors. Plus, you were already in a well-off neighborhood, so someone had to need or maybe even give in to the idea of having a regular housekeeper. When Eren opens the door, you flinch back as you were leaving your business card at the crack of the door after thinking no one was home.

"You scared me." You laugh softly before you start professionally advertising yourself begging for a job, "Hello, Im {</3}, I am a housekeeper looking for work," you know... the works. Eren was working from home, barely hearing the doorbell go off at first. He was surprised himself thinking it was the regular delivery people needing a package signed off.

Eren didn't mean to disregard Mikasa when she would tell him there was no need for a maid, but he convinced her (time after time) that you were a good investment. He knew how busy they both were with their shared company. The amount of hours they spent at the office, "That way we can just come home and relax after a long day and spend time with each other." He kissed softly under her ear leaving a small trail down her neck, and pulling her close into his body in a way she changed her mind.

Eren didn't mean to adjust his schedule so he could work from home more than usual. Leaving both of you alone together while his wife works at the office. Eren glances up from his annoyingly bright computer and number of papers scattered across his desk once he hears the footsteps of (<3).

Eren didn't intend to watch you walk by, subconsciously sucking in a breath. He definitely didn't intend for his eyes to trail up and down your body as you walked by (in slow motion to him), his eyes focused on your ass in those black tights, the way your thighs rub against each other, pushing the mini cart carrying cleaning supplies. He swears it was on purpose when one of the disposable gloves falls on the floor, watching as you pick it up.

Eren didn't want to pump his dick in his hand, but his thoughts ran crazy. He didn't even bother to get up from his office chair to at least crack the door shut. He had his head leaned back, while manspreaded in his office chair. Eren bit his lower lip, holding back his quiet grunts and whines, his chest heaving while his abs flexed. all over his hands while he pictures your own hands (the ones he got to look at weekly when handing you a check for your services), tending to his selfish, dirty needs. Eren moves his hands faster up and down is dick, using his ither hand to rub his tip. Choking back a moan, his abs tense at the stimulation he you was giving himself. "Shit (<3)." He mutters, throwing his head back into his office chair, his legs spreading further apart as his hip buckle. Eren’s mind flashes to you bending over to pick up the glove. It didn't take long for him to cum, spurts of it landing on his shirt, and all over his hands. Eren didn't expect to think about you multiple times while he was buried deep in Mikasa, later in the day.

Eren didn't mean to accidentally come across {<3} (he purposely looked for you.) slightly bent over cleaning the bathtub. Eren couldn't help but feel his erection grow harder as he saw your perfectly plump ass moving while you scrub the tub.

It was out of his control when he grabbed your hips, pressing his bulge into you. His hands find the waistband of your tights as he pulls them down. He slowly thrust his throbbing cock (with too many fabrics in his way) on you through your panties. "Keep cleaning." He spanks your ass, getting on his knees placing his hands around your thighs, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer to him.

"I-" you stumble your words, "Sir, I don't thi-" but you get cut off by Eren's tongue licking you through your panties, letting out a groan from between your legs while he gropes your ass. Your lips part, letting out a soft gasp as you try to ignore the arousal growing and focus on cleaning the tub. Eren pulls your panties down, his tongue teasingly plays with your pussy soon forgetting the words that were going to leave your mouth.

You couldn't believe the way you were pathetically begging for more while Eren's fingers went in and out of you. "Oh fu-fuck" you whimper out arching your back and pushing your ass into his fingers. Your walls clenching and spewing more as he's degrading you, sucking and nipping lightly on the back of your bruised thighs. "Slutty ass pussy," his teeth sinking harder into your sensitive skin.

Your eyes flutter when you feel him add another finger in. The scrub brush hits the bottom of the tub after it slips out of your gloved hands and finds its way to the bath wall. He adds another finger, scissoring them. You push your ass further back wanting more. The previous thoughts of right and wrong went straight out your head after feeling his tongue sucking around your puffy clit.

Eren's arms snake around your thighs holding your trembling legs open and still, nose deep in your gushy cunt. His moans vibrate through your body, eyes rolling. "P-please sir." You whimper (begging) at his never-ending torment.

Only then did Eren part away, admiring you bent over, hands placed on the shower wall, legs spread open. He licks his lips, moaning at the taste of you as his dick throbs in his pants. You let out a low whine, squirming your hips at the loss of his touch, earning a small chuckle from him.

"Do I have to teach you to use your words properly?" He spanks your ass hard and your body jerks forward, knees hitting the outside of the tub. "No, Sir." You croak out as he spanks you again. You wiggle your hips again, wanting- needing more. He sucked his teeth, "Such an eager little thing hm." Your knees buckle, clenching on air. He spits on your drooling needy little cunt, blowing softly at your winking hole. Eren watches as his saliva drips down your folds, straight to your clit.

"Please, Sir, I want more." You whisper through your soft whimpers. Eren smirks licking against your clit, circling it a few times, up to your entrance. His tongue fucking you while he palms himself. He sucks on your clit and pulls his dick out his pants, moaning in relief when he starts jerking himself off again. You squirmed your hips in his face side to side moaning at the vibrations he was creating.

It wasn’t long before he had his cock buried in you, your back pressed against his clothed chest, your shirt raised up over your chest. His hands are snaked around you, one groping your boobs and the other wrapped around your neck, while his cock pounds in to you, leaving you a moaning hot-mess. Such filthy words he was saying, filthy words that were getting you off.

“Look at you, about to cum on a married man’s cock.” He groans into your ear, biting the shell. Your pussy dripping, gripping his cock so good, better than anything he has ever felt before. You whine out, arching your back even more. His hand drops from your boob to your clit, rubbing circles. “P-please sir, so so close.” You moan, your hips rock against his thrusts.

“Fuck, cum, cum all over my cock, wanna feel how hard you cum fucking your boss hmmm.” He hums rubbing your wet puffed out clit faster, fucking you harder. Your eyes roll and you see white dots as you cum gushing all over his cock. Legs tremble as he places your hands on the wall and grips your hips, pounding in you sensitive hole mercilessly. Your hands slip as your mouth drops open. He holds you up when your knees buckle, “Fuck you take me so well, pussy so stretched out from my dick, can’t even stand anymore.” Eren spanks your ass, the slap echos as your body jumps nearly hitting your head on the shower wall. “How are you gonna finish cleaning my house hmm. Maybe I should fill you up so you are dripping my cum out of you. That’ll give you a reason to scrub my floors, give me a reason to fuck your slutty pussy all over again.” He teasingly chuckles, as his nails grip into your hips creating crescents.

“Yes please.” You moan out desperately trying to hold your arms up again, every snap of his hips make your hands slip on the shower tile. “Shit, you better take all of it then.” Eren moans, throwing his head back as he feels his balls squeeze and dick throb inside, he grabs your hair pulling you back into a mean arch, his pace moving impossibly faster.

“Please, give i- it to m-me sir plea-nnghhh- please.” Your loud moans echo the bathroom alongside skin slapping against each other. Eren lets out a loud whimper/grunt as he cums deep inside you, holding you in place as he fills you up.

Before you both could say or do anymore, you both hear the front door open, “Eren, I’m home.” Mikasa calls out…

Let’s just say your next check was a few thousand more than your last one.

*not proofread*

Thinking about making this a mini fic so let’s call this a preview ;)

More:

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Nerd!armin x reader x boyfriend!eren

[sume3luvv]

Thinking about...

༉‧₊˚. o.dazai x fem!reader

now playing...

MELTING by kali uchis ₊˚ෆ

might be a few mistakes cuz sume did not proofread...

pre-boyfriend!dazai who has never thought that such a unforgivable and sinful person like him could be loved by anybody.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who never thought about love until he met you.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who first met you at the bookstore that recently opened down the street, which you worked at.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who requested philosophical and dark books recommendations, catching you a bit off guard.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who sighed in defeat when you had no idea what to give him because you never read that kind of genre.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who blinks in curiosity when you lead him to a brand new aisle filled with a genre that was completely different than what he asked for.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who bonds with you over your guys mutual interests for books, instantly becoming amused by your calm and kind personality in contrast to his melancholic, yet cheerful one.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who made stupid excuses to keep on coming back to the bookstore after the day you two met.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave you subtle hints that's he's interested in you, like brushing his knuckles against you by "accident" when he bought a book, or when he'd lean in to see your pretty face closer.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave up on giving your oblivious self hints and (in)directly asked you out on a date with that sly grin spread across his lips.

" you know what would be crazy? going somewhere, maybe a restaurant. you and me, together. alone. " " are you asking me out on a date? " you asked, raising an eyebrow. " hm.... I don't know, what do you think?" dazai teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who takes you out for dinner after saving his money and not recklessly spending it all, or losing it in a river from another suicide attempt.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who walks on the beach with you after dinner, shoulders bumping while fingertips brush against each other.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who stops and takes your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckle before flashing you a charming smile, causing your heart to do multiple flips.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who asks you to be his girlfriend while the sun is setting beautifully in the background.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who feels a pounding in his chest when you agree with the cutest smile. he can't contain his excitement as he cups your chin, bringing you face closer and kisses you gently.

" you mean it? " he asked, eyes lighting up. " you're really saying yes? " yeah, i am. " you replied with a shy smile. dazai grinned and pulled you into a tight hug. " wow... i must be dreaming. quick- pinch me so i know this is real. " you rolled your eyes playfully. " you're ridiculous. " " ridiculously lucky, maybe. because i'm finally dating the woman of my dreams. "

boyfriend!dazai who isn't afraid to show people that you guys are dating. for example, he would wear those 'i <3 my girlfriend!' shirts if you guys go on a date.

boyfriend!dazai who has his arm wrapped around your waist in public.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive in a good way.

boyfriend!dazai who swings your guys arms when holding hands as you guys take a stroll at the beach while watching the sunset.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you're a daydream, a woman too good to be true.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you put him under your spell, and that's why he's so deep into loving you. not that he's complaining, though.

boyfriend!dazai who thinks you get prettier and prettier every day.

boyfriend!dazai who studies your humor to make you laugh in order to see your pretty smile.

" ah! " dazai cries and holds a hand over his eyes. " what happened? are you okay? " you ask, eyebrows furrowing in a panic as you try and pry dazai's hands away from his face. " i just got blinded... by your lethal face card! " dazai jokes, peeking at you through his fingers with a grin. you couldn't help but snort and smile at your goofy boyfriend. " you're so stupid... "

boyfriend!dazai who rants to his coworkers about you, babbling about anything and everything about you. your hair, your eyes, you personality, the way you sleep at night- dazai just loves everything about you!

boyfriend!dazai who slowly opens up about his past, knowing he can't keep the ugly truth from your any longer.

boyfriend!dazai who, despite his flaws, is astonished you still want to be with him after finding about his past.

boyfriend!dazai who brings you to oda's grave with a proud smile and an arm wrapped around your waist as he introduces you to his old friend.

boyfriend!dazai who wishes oda was still alive to meet you.

boyfriend!dazai who melts whenever he sees your smile ignite, knowing that everything is alright.

boyfriend!dazai who feels safe and at home whenever he's around you.

boyfriend!dazai who has trouble sleeping at night, so he holds you close and watches you sleep at night, finding your peaceful slumber calming.

boyfriend!dazai who loves to be spooned at night, burying his face into your chest and listening to the even beats of your heart.

boyfriend!dazai who knows every little thing about you. from your worst to your best.

boyfriend!dazai who kisses you any chance he gets.

boyfriend!dazai who feels the will to live his life because he has you.

boyfriend!dazai who loves his girl more than anything, and feels so unbelievably lucky to have you in his life. maybe god has never treated him good, but one good thing the lord has given to him is you.

a/n: it has been awhile since i've uploaded, so think of it as a treat! i don't what came over me, but i just had a blast of energy and the will to finally complete this imagine that has been in my drafts for centuries (or 2 months).

sume loves all of you guys! (≧ڡ≦*)

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡ ゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر 

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves. 

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious. 

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it. 

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper. 

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen. 

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there. 

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love. 

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | سیکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all. 

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

 

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides. 

"How have you been, Logan?" 

"I..ah... fine, just fine." 

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering. 

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune?  He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower. 

He who seems to know everything you do not. 

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through. 

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead. 

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth. 

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back. 

[canyonmooncreations]

Simon Shares

Simon x reader, TF 141 x Reader

Summary: The team gathers at Simon’s house where his perfect girl hosts them. It’s a typical gathering, until it’s not (reader takes them all)

Authors note: I haven’t written a full piece in so long! I hope you don’t hate it 😭 just horny thoughts 😭

Warnings: reader is a needy slut, takes them all, p in v, spanking, overstimulation, and I think that’s it?

You and Simon have been together for quite a while. Engaged actually. That being said, you’ve meet his team several times and have grown to like them and they have grown to love you plenty. You’ve hosted them for cookouts, watching the ball games, and sometimes just for cards and beer.

When the boys are over, you’re always sitting on Simon’s lap or close enough for him to have a hand on your thigh or around your hip.

You’re comfortable around them. They don’t mind that you join them. Simon doesn’t mind the way their eyes rake over your body when you’re serving them food. He doesn’t mind the comments they make after you’ve walked away. To be truthful, he doesn’t mind the idea of sharing his pretty little thing with them.

Usually the night ends long after you’ve gone to bed. Waking up to Simon crawling into bed and wrapping you in his arms. Tonight was different

The boys were coming over for a cookout and cards, typical. When you were on your grocery run you decided to not only buy their beer but also some fruity little drinks for yourself. Simon didn’t mind when you put them in the cart, only replying with a hum. He knew this could end with trouble but wanted to see how it played out. He knew alcohol made you horny and needy. He knew bratty you got when you didn’t get your way. But maybe this was his opening…

The night began like any other. The boys arrived and found their seats on the patio. You served them dinner. They made their remarks as you walked back in the house. Simon smirked as he noticed the extra sway of your hips as the alcohol gave you some extra confidence.

After dinner, you found your spot on Simon’s lap. He could tell you’ve almost reached your limit. He noticed the way wiggled in his lap. He noticed the pout on your lips when his hands stopped your movement. John was the first to notice. He noticed your little show and saw the pout of your lips. John flashed a smirk at Simon and was met with one back.

The boys continued to play their cards and you continued to get needier. Johnny could help but notice the way your nipples perk through your little tank top. Nudging Kyle to look too.

You were oblivious to the three men staring at you and chuckling at your neediness. All you wanted was Simon’s attention and he was too busy playing cards.

You eventually realized you weren’t going to get what you wanted and decided on just pouting. Arms crossed, pouty lips, and your back to Simon’s chest. You could feel the occasional chuckle but refused to acknowledge him.

“Baby, w’don’t ya go grab us some more beer?” Usually this was met with a kiss to the lips and you finding your way inside. Today, however, he was met with nothing.

John chimed in. “Yeah sweetheart, could use another cold one.” He flashed you a smile. Nothing. You refused to acknowledge any of them.

“I think someone is pouting”. You didn’t miss the mocking tone in Kyle’s voice.

“Am not!!” You all but yelled at him. Voice laced with attitude.

All the eyebrows were raised. You hadn’t ever dared to act like this around them. Them only ever seeing your sweetness.

Simon didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you inside. He sat you down on the kitchen counter and let his hands fall to either side of you. He wanted to give you a chance to fix it.

“What’s the problem? Hmm?”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Just need you!” Your pouty lip returned. Simon chuckled. “It’s not funny”, you say as you attempt to push him away.

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll give you all the attention you need later. But for now, I need you to be a good girl. Can you do that? Can you be patient?”

He didn’t miss your eye roll or the way you squirmed at being called a good girl. Nonetheless, you nodded and wiped your tears. Simon moved away to grab some beers from the fridge.

“Now when we get back out there, you’re going to apologize for your attitude and just sit patiently. Be a good girl, hm?”

“Yes, Si…” Simon helped you off the counter and guided you back to the patio.

“Oh thank you for the drink darling” Johns voice dropping with amusement as they could all see your tear stained eyes and pouty lip still present.

“Yah, such a sweet girl” Johnny replied.

Simon was still standing behind you as you finished passing out the drinks. He landed a gentle (for Simon) smack on your ass as a little nudge to get started with your apology. He didn’t miss the way Kyle and Johnny were readjusting in their seats

“‘m sorry for having an attitude…” your sentence was punctuated with a sigh as you sat down onto Simon’s lap again. The boys chuckled and began their card game once again. Simon readjusted you to where you were straddling one of his legs. Playing it off as he needed better access to the table.

Your neediness had subsided for only a few minutes before your hips began to roll on Simon’s thigh. Kyle and Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight. John only smirked.

As John was passing out the cards for the new round, Simon cleared his throat.

“The winner of this round can take care of this needy slut I have here. Can’t help but be needy. Isn’t that right?”

You suddenly got shy, sinking back into Simon.

“Oh come on baby, just so needy. It’s okay, we’ll get somebody to take care of you”

A whine escapes your lips as Simon ignores you in his lap. The game carries on with every man playing and praying for a chance at the pretty little thing in Simon’s lap. The round ends as Simon places down his last card.

“Come on, that’s not fair!” Kyle exclaims. Frustrated and bulging in his pants.

“Rules are rules” John replies as he eyes Simon.

“Your lucky day” Simon readjust you and begins to unzip his pants. Your panties are soaked at this point. Pussy dripping with desire at the idea of Simon taking you right here in front of them or the idea of one of them taking you. “Take em off”.

You get a little shy as your realize Simon is really going to take you right here. In front of all of them. “Come on baby, show em what they missed out on.”

You slowly take them off and Simon lowers you down onto his lap. The boys are drooling at this point. Palming themselves through their pants at the sight of Simon’s giant cock sliding into your soaking little pussy. Simon lets you ride him for just a little until he can tell you’re close to cumming. He hands still your hips and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“That’s enough baby. Gonna let someone else feel you. Whoever is lucky enough to win this round”

The round goes on for what feels like hours. Simon still hard inside you with his hands finding your hips anytime you try to move. He gives you a warning squeeze as he stills your hips once more.

You can’t help it. You’re just so so needy. You find your hips moving once again in search of any release. What you didn’t expect was Simon’s hand coming down, smacking your pussy.

“That’s enough.” His sentence punctuated with another slap. A moan escapes your lips. The round finally comes to and end as John puts down his last card Simon chuckles as he lifts you off his lap. You’re hesitant. Is this really happening? Is Simon really gonna let someone else fuck you? You question is answered with a smack to your ass. Your legs are wobbly as you make your way over to John. He already has his dick out, hand moving up and down.

“Come here sweetheart.” His hands find your hips as he guides you down onto him. You moan as he moves you up and down. “God Simon, such a perfect little thing you have. Taking me nice and good.” John fucks you nice and slow. Rolling your hips and helping you bounce up and down

All cards are on the table as all men have their hands wrapped around their cocks. All rock hard at the sight of John fucking Simon’s little play thing.

As you chase your high, John’s quickly follows. Your eyes meet Simon’s. His laced with lust and desire. You’re laced with need. Simon stands and makes his way to you, where you still sit with John’s cock inside you.

“There’s my good girl. Why don’t you show Johnny just how good you can be?”

You let him help you off of John’s lap and over to Johnny’s. Simon moves to behind Johnny and removes your top. Leaving you bare and vulnerable. Simon leans against the railing and watches as his teammate fucks you He doesn’t give you much time to rest. Johnny doesn’t take you as soft as John. He’s pounding in and out of your pussy. Tits bouncing in his face. He fucks you hard and fast. You’re quick to come again, Johnny coming with you. Your face falls to his shoulder “where’s that attitude now?” Johnny quips.

The boys chuckle as the pout reruns to your lip. “Oh there it is!” Kyle laughs as Simon guides you over to Kyle.

“Need help? Hm? Need to me help fix that attitude?” Kyle is grinning as Simon helps you onto his lap.

“Yes she does. Help her out Kyle” Simon is leaning back on the railing as the moans escape from your lips. Kyle isn’t gentle or nice. His hands find your nipples as he makes your ride him. More moans escaping as your hands find his wrists. His hands find your hips as he notices your slowing down from being tired. He pounds into you as you once again chase your high as he does too. “Too much” you mutter.

Simon helps your off his lap and bends you over the table. Before you can protest, he’s deep inside you pounding in and out.

“Is this what my needy slut wanted? Did you want me to fuck you here in front of all of them? Did you want them to fuck you? Just so needy.”

You can’t help as the tears fall down your cheeks. It’s just too much. You can’t take anymore.

Almost as if he can read your mind, “come on baby, just one more”. The boys coo at you as Simon takes you from behind. Their hands find your nipples, your ass, roaming your body. Their hands make your body burn from the overstimulation of taking them all.

Simon coaxes one more out of you and comes in you as the other boys cum leaks out. He can’t help but moan at the sight. Pussy dripping with all their cum, hips and ass red from their hands guiding you up and down, and cheeks tear stained from it being all too much.

John returns to the patio with a wet rag, not that you noticed he left. Simon helps your get cleaned up and Kyle helps you get dressed. Johnny brings you a glass of water and fixes your hair out of your face.

Simon picks you up as your wrap your legs and arms around him. He carries you inside and helps you to bed. He leaves you after holding you for a few minutes with a kiss on your forehead

He walks back outside to all the boys with a huge smile on their face. What you don’t realize is that it takes Simon way longer than usual to join you in bed. Too wrapped up in conversation with his boys about how beautiful and perfect you are.

Let’s just say, the gatherings are way more eventful after today. The boys finding more and more reasons to come over. You finding more and more reasons to host them. Simon doesn’t mind and you definitely don’t.

[llamagoddessofficial]

What are some ways the Mafia crew would try to further woo their dearest love? And in return, what ways could we further endear ourselves to them?

Scary spooky mafia guys...... trying their hardest to woo a pretty human. AGH it hits all the notes!!!!

Horror gets overwhelmed. You make him so happy, so fuzzy, so warm - but he doesn't believe he can 'woo' you. Not when he can't bear his own reflection, not when even his Dust and Killer consider him violent and frightening. Horror believes his affection for you is his only redeeming quality. He doesn't think you'll like him, but he literally can't stop himself from trying, so when he has his heart set on you his methods are... surprisingly slow and tentative. Especially considering how mercurial he usually is. He brings you flowers that made him think of you, he makes you food, he pores over his brother's dating manual and panics when something happens that he hasn't read about. He's nervous to even hold your hand in case he scares you; the other skeletons are so handsome and eloquent and flirtatious, how could he ever compare? If he frightens you off, he'll never get you back. He has to be gentle.

How could you endear yourself to Horror? Tell him how handsome he is. Tell him how often he's charming without realising. Compliment his cooking. It really won't be that hard, he's already head over heels, but hearing that you like him means so much.

Dust... does not struggle with wooing. Sorry Horror. Dust is frightening, certainly, but his quietness gives him an undeniable magnetism. Like a wolf - sure, you can see his sharp teeth when he smiles, you can see the moonlight flash in his empty eyes. But when he draws close... you can't help but want to move nearer, and touch his soft, silver pelt. Compared to the other three, his romancing is much more underhanded, more about you than grand gestures toward you - which can honestly be a relief when you're being pursued by such big personalities. He turns on the charm, talks quietly and sweetly, stands just a little too close to be platonic, rents your favourite movie when you're down, and (most importantly) positioning himself as your friend and confidant against the other bad guys. He clearly doesn't want to be involved with them, and it's easier to keep you close if you trust him more.

Dust is won over by sincere affection and compliments. For all that looming and flirting, he sure does fall apart quickly when you look right into his eyelights and tell him you like having him around. At that point, he's all yours.

Killer firmly believes that if he can make you laugh, he can make you love him. It's all about getting those giggles, baby. Whatever kind of jokes you like is the kind he tells, he's impressively quick on the draw and never runs out of material, on occasion you may have to ask him to stop joking because your cheeks and abdomen hurt from laughing. He's careful not to be too much... he knows when to be bombastic, when to just be a bit silly and teasing, and when to offer a shoulder to lean on because you're not in the mood. His romantic side is obviously going to be in full force - bouquets, sweets, cards, dates - but his number one wooing technique is getting you to smile. The world you've been unwillingly dragged into can be truly terrifying, and even with the skeletons surrounding you, you'll no doubt feel the nerves and pressure. Killer's humour is a welcome distraction.

It's... hard to tell what endears you to Killer. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Killer is ever thinking. How do you know what's real affection, and what's just a way of making you feel comfortable around him? How can you tell when he's not acting anymore? Though, if you look at how hard he's working every single day to make you that little bit happier... maybe it's not possible to be any more dear to him than you already are.

Nightmare likes to throw his money around. He has an incredible skill for catching when you really like something, reading your face for even the subtlest shine in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to cover your reactions he will catch when you want something and buy it for you. ... But that's not his only wooing trick. Nightmare is, to most people, a violent and unpleasant man who lets his temper take him wherever it pleases. But once he understands his feelings for you and fully commits to romance, he's charming. Lethally charming. He was raised a prince, after all, Dream isn't the only one who has a way with words. You'll start a simple conversation with him, and then you blink and you're sitting on his desk in his study telling him things you've never told anyone. You'll go to him specifically trying not to be swayed - and then when you snap back to reality the two of you are sharing a very luxurious bottle of wine in his room and you've just agreed to be his plus one to a gala this weekend. After all, if he wants to buy you another eye-wateringly expensive necklace, he's going to have to convince you to try some on first.

Nightmare appreciates any attempt to get to know him. His whole life, he's felt like he's living in Dream's shadow, so when you try to actually understand and learn about Nightmare he gets as flattered as he does flustered. Find out about his favourite painters and musicians, read his favourite books, ask him about himself. No one ever has before.

[theballadofharkness]

Glasses

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At your covens bi-weekly game night, Jen points out that Agatha may be having problems with her eye sight…

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: I recently saw a post about Agatha resisting her need for reading glasses and couldn’t get it out of my head… which led to this mammoth of a one shot. Bonus points if anyone can tell me what book Agatha is reading 😏

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the living room as the evening wore on. The coven had gathered at yours and Agatha’s cozy, sprawling home in the quiet suburbs of West View, where coffee cups slowly became wine glasses as the night continued, and the magic was tempered with laughter. Game night had become a regular thing—one that Billy had insisted on, for "coven bonding". The table was crowded with the usual suspects: Billy, Lilia, Jen, Alice.

You were curled up beside Agatha on the couch, feeling her warmth and a possessive, secure hand draped across your waist as Billy shifted the cards in front of you. Agatha, in her usual domineering manner, commanded the space with her presence, even in such mundane settings. The power she radiated was more than just the centuries of magic she had at her fingertips; it was in the way she looked at you, the way she spoke, and the way she held herself.

“Alright, Agatha your turn,” Billy said, grinning as he shuffled the cards for Cards Against Humanity, a new game he’d brought to spice up game night after Lilia’s pick of Monopoly ended with Agatha putting Billy in a headlock and announcing she would never again play a boardgame with the coven again for a witch as powerful as she was above such things. Then after two days of you not putting out she caved and agreed to host the next game night.

Billy wiggled his eyebrows. “Okay Agatha you have to pick your worst, most inappropriate card. Show no fear.”

“I’m aware,” Agatha muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms and leaning back on the couch, her lips curling slightly into a smirk. “I’m sure I can manage without your help pet.” she teased as Billy pouted at the degrading nickname Agatha liked to use to irritate her student and coven member.

Alice chimed in, a playful glint in her eyes. “Is that so, Agatha? I thought the big bad witch was above coven bonding game night.”

Agatha huffed, clearly unfazed. She always liked the banter, but her eyes narrowed when she picked up her cards to read.

“Ugh, what is this?” She muttered, leaning forward slightly and squinting at the small print on the card. “This print is way too small for anyone with decent eyesight.”

Billy leaned forward, inspecting the card. “No, no, it’s fine, Agatha,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re just getting old.” Lilia teased, having succumbed to wearing reading glasses herself a couple of hundred years ago now.

Agatha’s eyes shot up in a flash of fiery annoyance, her voice sharp as she snapped, “Excuse me?”

Jen couldn’t help but pile on the teasing. “Is the witch killer getting old? Maybe you need some glasses, Agatha. What’s next? A walking stick?”

Agatha’s posture stiffened, and for the briefest moment, you saw a flicker of something in her eyes—concern, maybe? Something more vulnerable than the powerful woman she always presented. Her hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as she huffed.

You leaned back into her, trying to keep the mood light. “You don’t look old, ignore her,” you said softly, feeling her tense form slowly relax as you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Jen, ever the instigator, kept prodding. “Worried you won’t suit glasses, Agatha? It’s not like it’ll make you less powerful or something.”

Agatha glared at Jen, a flash of purple crackling in the air, and for a split second, you could feel the tension between them—something on the verge of too much. But then, as quickly as it appeared, she relaxed again, laughing darkly. “Are you really talking about power, Kale?” she drawled, eyes narrowing. “You’d have to stop using your magic for something more than selling cheap hand cream and jade eggs before you speak to me about power.”

Jen rolled her eyes and went back to the game at hand, muttering something about Agatha needing a chemical peel. You could feel Agatha’s mood shift, though, something more protective and possessive edging into her tone. She pulled you closer still, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as if daring anyone to challenge her. “I may be older than you, but I’m not about to let something so trivial make me look like a relic.” She murmured in your ear before kissing your hair.

You blinked, realizing what was happening—Agatha was genuinely concerned about looking old in front of you.

With a soft smile, you leaned in and whispered, “You’re perfect Agatha.”

The comment seemed to soothe her, her hand gently smoothing over your side as she looked at you with an unreadable expression. "You don't mind that I'm an ancient witch, huh?" she murmured, almost sounding insecure, though she’d never admit it.

You shook your head. "Not at all. You're everything I want and more. I’m gonna love you forever till we are both old and wrinkly. Now, let's work as a team for this game night, hmm?”

She nodded and smiled, burying her face in your hair as you whispered what the cards said in her ear, but you could tell she wasn’t fully convinced.

~

A few nights later, you were lying in bed together, the quiet of the room filled with the soft rustle of pages as Agatha read in comfortable silence while you curled up against her body, placing occasional kisses against her skin. You had noticed, though, that Agatha seemed to be squinting at her book, holding it closer to her face. The sight was so endearing, and yet, it was clear something was off.

“Agatha,” you said, putting your book down with a soft sigh. “Why don’t you just get reading glasses?”

She stilled at your words, the briefest flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I don’t need them,” she said firmly, not looking at you. “I’m still more than capable of reading fine print.”

You raised an eyebrow, seeing right through the act. “My love. It’s just a pair of glasses. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful. In fact, I think you’d look pretty sexy in them.”

Agatha glanced at you, her lips pulling into a slight smirk. “Sexy, hmm?”

You grinned. “Yeah. It’s like... you’re ready to teach me a lesson. Like a smart, sexy professor.”

Her eyes softened for a brief moment, the steely edge of her usual demeanor faltering as she considered your words. She let out a low, reluctant sigh. “Fine. Maybe I’ll think about it,” she muttered, glancing back down at her book.

But you knew the truth. Agatha had always been proud, and no matter how old she was, she would never admit to needing anything. It was part of what made her the captivating, powerful witch she was—and also part of what made her so vulnerable, in her own quiet way.

“Want me to read to you?” you asked softly, worried about her straining her eyes any further.

“I’m not a child,” Agath furrowed her eyebrows. “And I told you, I don't need glasses.”

“I know, I know” you cooed softly and gently took her book out of her hands. “I just thought it might be nice, I could read to you while you hold me” You smiled innocently, and despite you not being very subtly in your approach, Agatha decided to play along and pulled you up into her arms, caged between her thighs as you rested your head on her chest and began to take over reading for the evening. “You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am, you cannot know….”

~

The afternoon sun filtered through the wide windows of Agatha’s home a few days later, casting warm light over the comfortably cluttered space. Books, ancient artifacts, and plants you had carefully tended were scattered throughout, blending the mystical with the homey. At the center of it all sat Billy, cross-legged on the floor, a shimmering orb of blue energy floating between his hands.

Agatha paced slowly in front of him, her long, dark coat swishing behind her, every inch the commanding mentor. She gestured with a pointed finger. “Focus, Billy. The energy needs to flow, not stutter. Let it move through you, not against you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Billy said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You watched from the cozy armchair near the corner, sipping tea and enjoying the sight of Agatha in her element. Her sharp, confident tone had softened just a bit for Billy, something you’d noticed more often lately. It made your heart warm.

After a while, Agatha clapped her hands. “All right, let’s take a break before your brain turns to mush. I need my students to be alert, not fried.”

Billy let the orb dissolve with a sigh of relief, slumping back against the sofa. He pulled out his phone, and moments later, his face lit up.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, thrusting the phone into the air. “I just got the notification—I've won it!”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, amused. “Won what? A new magical trinket, or are we talking about The Wizard of Oz action figures again?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “No, something actually cool. I won this old tarot deck on eBay—it’s perfect for Lilia’s birthday! She’s gonna love it.”

At the mention of Lilia, Agatha turned to you. “Speaking of birthdays…” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Have we gotten her anything? Or am I about to look like a neglectful witch in front of my own coven?”

You smiled, setting your teacup down. “Relax, baby. I’ve got it all handled.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a sly grin, and she leaned her weight onto one hip. “Oh, do you now?”

“Of course.” You counted off on your fingers. “I found some antique jewelry with her birthstone. Very classy. And I’ve potted her a set of plants I know she’ll adore.”

Agatha hummed approvingly. “You do spoil her. Remind me to put you in charge of all our gift-giving.”

“Baby, I already am” you flushed red at her praise.

Billy, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement, clearly convinced his gift was still superior. “Yeah, yeah, jewelry’s cool and all, but wait until you see this deck. It’s vintage, from the 1800s, with hand-painted illustrations. Check it out.” He handed his phone to Agatha.

Agatha took it, squinting at the screen. “What am I looking at here?” She held the phone closer, then farther away, frowning. “Is it damaged, or has this thing seen better days?”

Billy blinked. “Uh, neither? It’s just a normal phone. Agatha… I think you might need reading glasses.”

The air went still for a moment. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying, and failing, to stifle a laugh.

Agatha’s head snapped up, her expression caught somewhere between insulted and utterly appalled. “Pardon? Reading glasses?”

Billy raised his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, you were holding that phone like two feet away from your face. That’s a sign, y’know?”

Agatha’s offended gasp was theatrical. “Right. Fun’s over. Break’s done. Back to work, Kaplan. Maybe try focusing on your powers instead of my supposed eyesight deficiencies.”

Billy groaned. “Come on, I was joking!”

You stood from your chair, walking over to Agatha and resting a hand on her arm. She still looked put out, her lips pursed as though she was already plotting some sort of mild retribution. Gently, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t be too hard on poor Billy,” you said, your voice sweet and playful.

Agatha turned her stormy blue eyes on you, her scowl softening. “No promises,” she said over her shoulder as she turned back to Billy, though her tone held a trace of humor.

Smiling, you headed toward the kitchen. “I’m going to grab you both some fresh lemonade. Try to behave while I’m gone!”

Billy snickered. “You hear that, Agatha? Behave.”

Agatha leveled a mock-glare at him. “Keep it up, and you’ll be working on energy manipulation until the sun comes up.”

You shook your head fondly, leaving the two to their banter. The sounds of their voices followed you into the kitchen, a comforting reminder of how much Agatha had changed since you’d come into her life. She wasn’t just a powerful, commanding force; she was your partner, your protector, and, sometimes, even a little vulnerable.

As you squeezed lemons and prepared glasses, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Reading glasses, huh? You’d have to keep an eye out for a stylish pair—after all, Agatha could pull off anything.

~

Later that evening, as you both curled under the sheets, Agatha nestled into your chest, content but still brooding about her pride. “What are you doing?” She pouted as you scrolled on your phone instead of lavishing her with attention.

“I’m looking online at glasses for you” You told her softly, aware of how badly this might go so you tried to keep it light “What do you think of these?” you joked as you showed her an image of outdated spectacles that would usually be found in the possession of somebody’s grandmother.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she shifted, the power in her demeanor slipping just enough for you to catch the slight unease in her eyes. She shot you a look as if to say, Don’t you dare tease me about this too. “If I’m old enough to be your mother, I’m certainly not going to let you see me in spectacles,” she muttered.

You chuckled, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You know I don’t care about that.” you placed your phone down on the bedside table and shifted to lay across from her in bed, her hands finding your hips and giving them a gentle squeeze. “And remember I think you’d look hot in a pair of reading glasses.”

Agatha finally met your eyes, her eyes softening just slightly before she gave a reluctant, but genuine, smile. “You really still think I’d look hot in glasses?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, a playful gleam in your eyes. “But I think you look sexy without them too. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

She held you tighter, her usual bravado melting for just a moment as she buried her head in the crook of your neck. “Good,” she murmured, her voice a little softer than usual. “Because you're all I need to prove anything to.”

~

The coven had gathered once again, back in your living room for your bi-weekly game night, where the flicker of candlelight cast dancing shadows over the group. The atmosphere was familiar—lively banter, wine glasses clinking, the occasional burst of laughter. The table in the center was covered with snacks, playing cards, and a half-finished board game that had devolved into spirited bickering. It had become a beloved routine, the start of a tradition even, but tonight there was something different.

You were sitting beside Agatha on the couch as usual, feeling that quiet sense of contentment that only being near her could bring. She was the center of attention, as always, but there was something about her tonight that was subtly changed—her sharp, commanding presence tempered by something softer. For the first time, Agatha was wearing glasses. The sleek, dark frames sat neatly on her face, enhancing her already striking features, giving her an air of intellectual allure that you found endlessly attractive.

She’d finally caved. After a week of gentle teasing from you and a few pointed remarks from Billy, Agatha had purchased a pair. She hadn’t been thrilled about it, of course—her pride wouldn’t allow that—but seeing her wear them now, a slightly smug smirk on her lips as she flipped through a book, was all the confirmation you needed. She looked... well, even more stunning than usual. And after catching at your staring at her with a lustful haze in your eyes whenever she wore them certainly helped her adjust.

The coven members gathered around the coffee table, playing some old-fashioned board game this time, when Jen couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Okay, okay, I’ve gotta ask,” Jen said, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. “Is this really what I think it is? Agatha Harkness wearing... glasses?”

Agatha didn’t miss a beat, her lips curling into a smug, satisfied smile. Without hesitation, she pushed her glasses up her nose in a single fluid motion, looking every bit the domineering witch she was. You clenched your thighs together at the subtle action, biting your lip to prevent a needy whimper. Agatha glanced sideways and smirked, placing a possessive hand on your thigh.

“Glasses, yes,” Agatha replied coolly, her voice dripping with a mix of pride and playfulness. “A small concession for the sake of clarity. But don’t get too excited.”

Jen’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I was starting to think you were above the need for such things, Agatha.” She grinned,

Alice chuckled, leaning forward as if to inspect them more closely. “You know, it’s kind of... cute.”

“Cute?” Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no venom in her tone. If anything, she was enjoying the attention.

But before she could respond, you sat up straighter in your seat, your usual soft demeanor hardening just slightly.

“Hey,” you said firmly, frowning at Alice. “Stop it. She’s mine.” The room went silent for a beat, the surprise evident on everyone’s faces. You were known for being sweet and gentle, never one to raise your voice or stake a claim so boldly.

Agatha’s eyebrows shot up, but her smirk turned into a full grin, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Well, well,” she drawled, leaning back in her chair. “Looks like my kitten’s got claws.”

Alice blinked, then held up her hands defensively. “Whoa, I wasn’t trying anything. Just a compliment.”

“Good,” you replied, still holding her gaze for a moment before glancing at Agatha.

Agatha’s expression softened, her grin melting into something warm and fond. “Come here, baby girl.”

Without hesitation, Agatha guided you onto her lap, wrapping her arms securely around your waist as she nuzzled into your neck. The rest of the coven chuckled softly, the earlier tension dissolving into affectionate teasing.

“Looks like someone’s feeling protective tonight,” Lilia quipped, nudging Alice with her elbow.

“Can you blame her?” Agatha said smoothly, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I am quite the catch, after all.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head, Miss Harkness.”

“Oh, too late for that,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. Agatha kept you close, her hands resting possessively on your hips or lightly trailing over your arm as the game continued. Every now and then, she’d steal a glance at you, her gaze filled with pride and adoration.

Jen couldn’t resist pushing further. “Yeah, I’m just shocked that Agatha Harkness is admitting she’s getting older”

The playful taunt hung in the air, but before Jen could get too cocky, Agatha smirked, her eyes flicking to you, then back to the group.

“Oh, Jen,” Agatha drawled, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms, her voice smooth with a certain satisfaction. “You’re not entirely wrong. I am getting older. But my baby girl here”—she gestured lazily toward you curled up in her arms, her eyes glinting—“happens to like the glasses very much.”

You blinked, caught a little off guard by her boldness, but when you met her eyes, you saw the familiar glimmer of mischief. You felt your cheeks warm as Agatha continued, her tone playful but edged with something deeper.

“In fact, she made it very clear last night just how much she finds them... appealing.”

Jen froze for a moment, her teasing smile faltering as the implications hit her. She blinked, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as the other coven members exchanged glances, their eyes widening in surprise. You could see Jen’s eyes flick from Agatha to you, and then back again as if trying to process what Agatha had just implied.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to suppress a grin. Agatha’s protective nature had flared up again, but this time it wasn’t out of insecurity—it was pride, pride in herself and, somehow, in you, too. The room had shifted—what had started as playful teasing from Jen had somehow turned into a subtle reminder of Agatha’s deep affection for you.

Agatha wasn’t just powerful. She was proud. Proud of her magic, proud of herself, and—dare you say—proud of you. It was rare for her to show such vulnerability, but tonight, with the glasses perched on her nose, she allowed herself a little indulgence, teasing Jen and the others about the private, intimate moments she shared with you. It was a side of Agatha that few got to see.

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth. “I just think Agatha looks incredible in them,” you said softly, leaning into her. “Not that she needed them to look good, she’s just…” you voice trailed off as you gazed lovingly in her eyes, making Alice and Billy pretend to vomit all over the carpet.

Agatha looked down at you, her lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. “That’s right,” she murmured, brushing her fingers through your hair. “I didn’t need them to look good. But if they make her like this I’m prepared to keep them around.” She said in reference to your reverent gaze.

Billy snickered. “So you didn’t get them to see, just to make y/n not be able to finish sentences?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Billy’s comment, but Agatha’s gaze never wavered from you. Her eyes softened as she looked at you, almost like she was savoring the moment, the way you always made her feel seen—not just as the formidable witch she was, but as the woman you loved.

“Thank you,” Agatha murmured when the game started back up and everyone went back to their playful bickering, barely audible over the soft laughter of the group.

You met her gaze, feeling the love in your chest swell. “You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back. “I’ll always think you’re perfect, with or without the glasses.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer against her chest once more as she returned her attention to the rest of the coven.

You simply smiled, resting your head against Agatha’s chest, feeling her heartbeat against your ear as she let her arm drape around you protectively.

Tonight, Agatha might have been wearing glasses, but it was clear: she was as powerful, as captivating, and as loving as ever. And for you, that was all that mattered.

[n0cturnalflesh]

The One Where Sylus Turns Into A Wanderer

Synopsis: Sylus gets hit with an attack that not only turns him into a wanderer but also makes him really horny??? Oh nooo what will you do? (wink wink nudge nudge)

Characters: Sylus x Reader

tw: Dragon Sylus, smut, p in v, breeding kink, praise, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, oral, tentacles

wc: 8.3 k

A/N: I'm a BIG fan of the theory(is it confirmed?) that Sylus is/was a wanderer at one point but I wanna see more content of him looking kinda scary. Love the idea of Sylus with cute horns and a tail but I'm thinking more like the wanderers we fight in deepspace trials - big, scaly monsters that barely look human. (I’m not not even a Sylus main lol sorry Zayne but duty calls)

“It recovered. Be careful.” Sylus charges forward, his evol twisting the wyrmlord wanderer and redirecting its fiery assault just out of the way from hitting you. 

“I know, I know.” Your voice comes out hoarse, throat parched from the hour-long battle against a horde of mechanically enhanced Wanderers—an unwelcome gift from one of Sylus’ enemies. It wasn’t anything the two of you couldn't handle, but their durability in the field was at least 4 times that of regular wanderers. This was an endurance test.

“This better be the last one.” You grumble, Harrier 700s aimed at its maws as you dump Evol-enhanced bullets into its rocky flesh.

“It is.” Sylus warps to its side, taking a vicious hit before striking back just as hard. “Look at the fluctuations around it, they’re weakening. Anything that might come after this will likely be too weak to stand. This is their last card.”

It’s true, now that you take a closer look; the translucent shimmer that had been protecting every wanderer before this is now no more than a simple sparkle. Cocking your gun in your hand, you level the barrel to its heart, giving a brief glance to Sylus. 

“Let’s finish this.”

Blood-red swirls of energy coil around your hands, leaving little tingles on your knuckles as the cold mist kisses your knuckles. With each shot fired, a shard of energy follows the bullet, driving it deeper into the Wrmylord. Sylus stays close to the beast, striking each bullet wound as his evol amplifies the force of your resonate-enhanced attacks. A powerful gust from its panicked wings nearly knocks you off balance, but you hold firm, standing against the wind. Your hair slaps across your face, nearly covering your vision but the red energy around your hands helps keep your aim. It’s almost dead— it has to be.

With each bullet, the wanderer staggers; each punch leaving it closer to the ground in defeat until the final shimmer of its enhanced defense shatters.

“Now!” You yell as you close in the distance, running until you’re side by side with Sylus. His evol energy swirls begin to coil stronger, wrapping around your entire body before channeling directly into your gun. With the dragon in your sights, gun up and facing its weakened body, you pull the trigger. At the same moment, Sylus charges forward, winding up his final strike and landing a crushing blow where your bullet landed.

The wyrmlord lets out a final, piercing scream before collapsing to the ground. 

“Damn, I don’t want to see another wanderer for at least a month. Maybe more. Thoughts on a mini vacation Sylus?” You ask, wiping off your gun as you place it back in its holster on your waist.

A few seconds of silence go by. With no response from Sylus, you glance up from your holster just as it all goes wrong. A vibration on your wrist draws your attention, red letters glowing above your watch that read “Extreme Fluctuation - Evacuate Vicinity Immediately”. A low grumble shakes the ground, the sound echoing through the ground and reverberating so powerfully that you feel it rumble in your chest. Before you can react, a blinding flash of energy fills your vision. 

“Fuck off!” You shake your head and reach for your gun, squinting against the brilliance but all you can make out are the wyrmlord’s glowing crooked eyes peering through the glare. 

“Get back!” Sylus’ low voice cuts through the rumbling, and in an instant he’s standing in front of you, shielding you just as the light directs into a beam and strikes his chest. The moment it hits, everything stops. The beast collapses on the ground, its limbs going limp as dust creeps up its disintegrating form until nothing remains. 

“Sylus!” Your voice breaks the silence, hands pressing against his sturdy shoulders until he turns to face you. “Are you alright?”

Despite the attack, he appears none the worse for wear, aside from tired and dirty from the battleground dust. His eyes are downcast, staring at his chest where the beam hit. 

“Yes, I’m fine kitten. Must’ve died just before the beam could hit me.”

“Are you sure?” Worry laces your voice, “I could’ve sworn I watched that weird beam hit your chest.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Your eyes must be deceiving you. You should head on home quickly, book that vacation on my card. I’ll…” he trails off, looking back to where the wyrmlord disintegrated. “Stay behind to make sure no other wanderers come.”

Sylus’ eyes narrow as he looks around, his tone low and calculated. He shifts from foot to foot, unusually stiff as you notice the way he draws his shoulders in stiffly. 

“Sylus?”

He bows his head down, turning to face away from you. 

“Sylus, that beam did something to you didn’t it?”

An audible sigh escapes him, his breath slow yet his upper torso rises rapidly like its breathing entirely separate from his breaths. 

“It… did. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t you worry about me. Just leave me to deal with this on my own, you should go rest.”

He stands awkwardly, posture just a bit too stiff - like he doesn’t quite know how to hold his limbs. You lean towards him, eye glancing over his body to check for hidden injuries or changes. There has to be something, he wouldn’t be sending you off so easily if there wasn’t. 

“Sylus, I’m not just going to leave because you said so. I’m a top hunter, why don’t you think I can help you?” You take a step forward, hoping for a closer inspection but he takes a step back as you do, keeping his face turned away.

“Excuse me?” Betrayal strikes you; how dare he go through months of coaxing and bonding just to leave you when he finally needs help for once? “Look at me.” You speak firmly, snatching his wrist so he can’t flee.

His body tenses at your touch, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. He could pull away if he wanted, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move at all. He’s frozen still, his gaze fixed on the ground. You slide your hand down until you can squeeze his fingers; they feel unusually cold at the tips yet hot toward his palm.

Following the heat of his palm, your fingers trace back up his wrist, gliding along his forearm until they reach the edge of his sleeve. A wave of warmth pulses beneath his skin, following his veins, though the surface remains cold to the touch. 

“Kitten,” His voice draws out low and raspy, leveled like he’s holding his composure just to talk. “Please, let me deal with this on my own. You don’t need to see this.”

Testing the waters, you caress over his chest and up until you hold his chin in your palm. He resists only for a moment as you tilt his head until his vibrant, glowing red eyes face you, laced with evol.

With brows drawn and tense, he shutters under your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles deeper into your palm. For a moment, he seeks comfort there, but he pulls away sharply as if your touch suddenly stings. His eyes reek of evol, the glowing red so bright that it becomes hard to see his pupils. Yet the sensation of his evol never comes. You don’t feel that deep pull from within; don’t hear the voices of your deepest desires. 

“Whatever that wanderer did to you, I won’t let you suffer alone. We’re in this together.”

He stares back, almost animalistic in nature, like he’s calculating how to react to your next move. His drastic change in personality becomes increasingly unsettling.

“Why are your eyes glowing like that? I don’t feel your evol.” You question, hoping a direct question might be an easier approach.

It seems to work, his gaze refocusing on you as he blinks a few times.

“It is…” he lowers his head, avoiding eye contact as he speaks, “returning me to a form I had hoped you’d never see in this lifetime.” Running a hand through his hair, he tilts his head up to look at the night sky, worries etched onto his face. The light of the moon shines on his pale skin and you can see a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead as he pushes his hair back.

“What does that mean?” Hundreds of questions pop into your head but that’s the one that comes out first before you can even think harder about what he said. A form? Form of what?

Sylus hums, voice uneven and hoarse as he keeps his head turned towards the stars. “Some time ago, which does not matter when, I was something else. Not… entirely as I am today.” He keeps his head tilted but lowers his glowing eyes to meet yours. “I’d since been able to restrict it, but it seems as though that wanderer’s attack was able to affect it.”

You stand your ground, holding eye contact. That’s not a complete answer, and he knows that. You stare back, not moving as he awaits a reaction that you won’t give him.

“I’ve never wanted it to come to this, because I know you won’t leave my side no matter what I say.” He continues, sad gratitude flashing on his expression for a moment, “You really won’t leave me to deal with this, will you?”

He’s not making sense. His words have told you nothing of the situation or his weird behavior. But raising your voice or pressing him further might escalate his behavior. Your heart aches at the thought of whatever is going through his mind as he loses his collected mannerism. He has done so much for you these past few months; proven your opinion of him wrong from the start and treated you so well. You will not let him be alone for this, whatever it is.

“No, I won’t.” You reply firmly.

“You never do.” He sighs, before doubling over to pull his arm close to his chest, hiding the skin from your touch.

“Sylus!” You cry out, taking a step towards him but he moves away as you come close.

“No.” His tone comes out calm despite the strain in his voice, “Don’t get close, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Sylus.” You pause, observing the way he carries his limbs in towards himself like he’s trying to make himself look small. An impossible feat for such a large man. “I know you won’t because I know you would never dare to hurt me. I don’t know what you’re talking about or what you mean by this ‘form’ you’re reverting to, but I know that if it is still you at the core, you will not hurt me.” 

It’s a lie. Sylus is a very scary man if you don’t know him well. Whatever he’s talking about clearly has him worried about hurting you, and if that’s something he’s concerned about, it absolutely gives you every reason to be alarmed. But you can’t just admit that. Not after everything he’s done for you —risking his life, taking hits meant for you, following you on pointless expeditions that far exceed the duties of the N109 Zone leader, even letting you hurt him. No, it’s your turn to take a risk for him. Prove to him that you trust him wholeheartedly.

Assuming a (hopefully) confident-looking stance, you hold eye contact with him and take a step forward, leaving no room for debate as you press into his personal space. He gasps at your touch, eyes glued to where your hand grabs at his arm. 

“Please,” He grunts, “be careful. I don’t want to hurt you. Not…” His voice trails off just as you make contact with his skin. But it’s not skin. It's hard, rocky almost in texture but still molds to your touch as you squeeze it. 

Not ready to look down, you raise your other hand up and cradle his cheek. “It’s okay.” Your voice comes out as a hushed whisper, and finally, you look down.

His arm below the elbow and hand are not human. The skin is jagged, flesh turned black and grey while red light seeps out from the lines of his veins. His fingers are longer than they should be, joints extended and bony as they lead to talons at the tips. These are the hands of a wanderer.

“Sylus, your form? A wanderer?” The look of raw insecurity in his eyes stops you from questioning. With his brows knitted and eyes glistening, his lips tremble slightly, parted as if struggling to form words. His chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths. He looks like he’s seconds away from breaking down.

“So you’ve figured it out, Miss Hunter.” He speaks, emphasizing the nickname like he’s pointing out how your job is sworn to killing monsters like him. He’s spiraling, slight tension tugging through his body like he wants to break away from you but doesn’t want you to leave him at the same time. You need to show him that you’ll remain ever at his side.

“This doesn’t change my statement, I won’t let you go about this alone.”

He lets out a small laugh, although there’s no humor or joy behind it. “I appreciate your help, but you don’t deserve to have to be exposed to this side of me. You've seen enough wanderers to last you at least 5 missions in the last few hours alone. You said it yourself, you need a vacation away from us horrid monsters.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because that wasn't you! You’re not just some beast that runs wild! Regardless of your form, there’s a ‘you’ deep inside. If you lose control, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t get caught. If anyone finds you, I’ll make sure they don't hurt you.”

“And if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.” Staring into his glowing eyes, you stand your ground. He needs to know this is a hill you’re willing to die on. “Listen, I don’t understand any of what’s going on, and you will explain everything to me when the time is right. But please, just shut up and let me be here for you.”

His jaw tightens before relaxing into a sigh. You run your fingers up and down his hardened palm, hoping to reassure him that this change does not change how you view him. 

“If you won’t leave me, you should at least distance yourself from me. At least for the time being. I don’t if the attack has altered my state of mind.”

“Alright.” You give his hand a light squeeze, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles before turning to retreat to a nearby tree. Only he doesn't let you. As you turn to leave, rough talons grasp onto your wrist. He pulls you close to him, your back pressing up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. They feel… different. 

The rough, rocky texture has continued up his forearms. He’s hidden from your line of view, only his arms visible as they wrap your torso. 

“Sylus?”  Your voice trembles with uncertainty, but the only response is a low, guttural growl from behind you. In the stillness that follows, you notice the next sudden change; he’s growing. His hands, already massive compared to yours, now seem to dwarf you entirely.  As he splays his left hand across your abdomen, his claws extend effortlessly to the back of your torso. His palm alone envelops your entire stomach.

The sharp rip of fabric echoes from somewhere along his back, followed by the rush of warm, heavy breaths against your neck—slowly, far too slow for any human. Wrapping your fingers around just one of his now enormous claws, you strain to fully grip it, prying his hand away with deliberate caution.

“I’m going to turn around now. And then you can tell me if you still want me to distance myself, okay?”

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn’t stop you from pulling out of his grasp. Gently, you free yourself from his hold. Drawing a deep breath, you prepare for what awaits. If he truly is a wanderer, is this his true form?

As you turn, there’s a deep, resounding thud—Sylus stepping back, perhaps anxious for you to see him like this. Finally, in the pregnant silence, you open your eyes.

He’s… gigantic. Towering close to nine feet tall, his presence is overwhelming. At first glance, not much seems to have changed—his face, his torso, still familiar; aside from the darkened, rocky skin leading from his hands and now his feet upwards. Through the tears of clothing struggling to hang off his growing body,  the skin beneath remains a softer hue, though roughened, textured like stone.

Your gaze travels upward, from his exposed chest, straining beneath shredded buttons, to his face. Aside from the glowing red eyes and his change in size, the only new and noticeable changes are the two massive horns shooting out from behind his ears. —black as night, laced with swirling red energy tapering into sharp white tips. They curl around his face gracefully, flaring outward before narrowing into points that end near his chin. For such a beastly figure to cower, avoiding your eyes, almost elicits a strange tenderness—were it not for the seriousness of the moment. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You murmur, stepping closer and offering your hand. He doesn't take it, but he doesn’t pull away, allowing the space between you to close.

When he speaks, his voice is even deeper than normal, rasping out hollow as though unused to forming words in this form. “I’m holding back... slowing the transformation.” His eyes shut, pained. “But the attack... it may have triggered some... side effects.”

He kneels down until he’s level with you, large eyes roaming over you like he needs to memorize your body. “I wanted this to be different. You deserve better—dinner, gifts, a proper evening to show you how much I—”

“Stop deciding for me.” You cut him off. “You’re not making sense. What side effects? What dinner? What’s happening?”

His chest rises and falls heavily, beads of sweat forming along his brow.  “I need you.”

“You have me.” you reply. He lets out a shaky breath, gaze slipping from your face to your body, over every curve you have and back up. He looks back to your face with a carnal, unrestrained desire.“No. I need you in ways that I should not take from you. I can endure this.” He groans. The side effect he mentioned is starting to make sense – an aphrodisiac. 

But it doesn’t shake you. Stolen evenings and unexpected gifts, whispered messages between meetings and surprise plushies left just for you—this isn’t for nothing. You want him. You want to be the one who helps him.

“And I’m saying you have me.” you whisper, “however you need me.”

In an instant, he surges forward, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss, nearly knocking you off balance. His claws steady you, holding you close as heat floods through you, every nerve alive under his touch. This wasn’t what you expected, but the rush is undeniable. After weeks of tension, playful flirtation, and stolen moments, you undeniably want this. The circumstances don’t change the feelings that you’ve harbored for him.

His pace is feverish, lips crashing against yours with a desperation that steals your breath. With inhumane sharp teeth, he pulls at your bottom lip before releasing, his tongue brushes lightly over your mouth, hesitant, seeking.

Your hands, trembling slightly, move to his jaw before drifting upward, fingers curling around his horns. The moment you tug gently, his breath hitches, a low gasp escaping him. His control slips further, the weight of his form heavy in the air between you as he slowly pulls away, panting, eyes squeezed shut. His hands, shaking, rest on your waist, still fighting against the wildness threatening to consume him.

“Sylus, it's ok. You can let go, show me your true form.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, face buried in the curve of your neck as he lets out a hushed groan, panting heavily as you feel his weight around you.

“Ok, my love.” He whispers, voice trembling, giving you no time to respond before his body begins to shift. The sound of bones cracking reverberates through the space, jarring and raw. He cups your chin gently, pulling your face to his, and kisses you deeply. Your eyes flutter shut as you cradle his tear-streaked cheeks in your palms, the damp warmth of his tears smearing against your skin. Whether he’s trying to distract you from his changing body or himself from the pain, you can’t be sure—but you return the kiss with equal passion, willing the world outside to fade away.

The sounds of his transformation— clothes ripping, bones snapping, joints realigning—begin to echo about louder and louder. Yet you ignore them, clinging to the heat between your lips, in hopes that the connection you share distracts him from the painful shift. After what feels like a small eternity, you pull away slowly, lips tingling from the heat of his breath. Steadying yourself, you take a step back, ready to take in all that he has become. 

Words cannot do justice to his new form. You stare in awe, committing his new body to your memory as he stands completely bare in front of you. Before you stands no trace of the human you once knew—only a towering, fearsome beast, the living embodiment of draconic ferocity. His body is a fusion of taut muscle and hardened scales, rippling with untamed power. Long, white hair cascades down his back, swaying like a mane as it frames his draconic face, a mix of humanoid and bestial features. His maw, lined with razor-sharp fangs, juts forward like that of a great dragon, yet his eyes still carry the familiar glint of Sylus—recognizable, despite the terrifying transformation.

His legs are thick and clawed like that of an animal, hoisting his massive form even higher above you. While he moves with the mannerisms of a bipedal creature, this is no man—this is something far more primal, more dangerous. Behind him, a long, jagged tail swings low, its blade-like ridges sharp and lethal. Higher up, leathery-red wings point upwards and wrap around his waist, covering himself up as modestly as he can. The horns that once subtly adorned his head have grown monstrously large, curling menacingly around his skull, nearly outsizing his monstrous, animalistic visage. His arms, though almost human in form, are colossal—each muscle encased in a thick, armor-like scale, protruding with strength at every joint as they swirl around his chest, where the beating thump of his heart stands out.

He is immense; a creature of both beauty and terror, and you can't help but feel both in awe and mesmerized in his presence.

You must look off-put, as Sylus bows his head, once more avoiding eye contact. Before he can move away, you take the initiative to reach out and grab his hand. Your fingers barely make a dent in his thick flesh, but still, you tug him towards yourself hoping he’ll understand the motive. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, voice quiet as you reach your hand out for his face. He takes the hint, hesitantly stepping forward with a loud thud that shakes the ground nearby, bending down to place his jagged jaw into your hand lightly. 

“Don’t,” His voice comes out with a groggy, half-growl tone, “Lie.” He finishes. Each word seems to have winded him, sighs escaping through sharp talons.

“I’m not.” You answer, and before he can protest, you push your lips against what would be his lips in this new form. It’s awkward, your lips barely covering a quarter the size of his mouth, his large teeth pushing up against your mouth as you try to kiss him. But awkward as it is, he returns the passion as delicately as he can. 

“I still want you Sylus, like this, or in any form. You have me.”

He must finally give in to his desires, ignoring whatever reservations were holding him back as he realizes your devotion to him.  He takes your body in his giant hands, cradling you gently as he lifts you up so he can stand at full height. As you sit like a pretty doll in his palms, nearly 9 feet above the ground, he brings his head close to yours until his forehead and horns rest against your head. 

“Thank you.” He growls through softly bared fangs, “But… don’t know how much you can help me…” he trails off, “ like this. Don’t want to.. to hurt you.” 

As he leans away from you, a brief flicker of his eyes downwards gives him away. You shift a little in his grasp, hoping to peer down at one body part of his you hadn’t considered might also change. 

“Are you certain…want to see all of me?” Sylus nuzzles his sharp snout into your neck, subtly preventing you from looking further. 

“If it will help you, then of course. I know this isn’t how you wanted things to play out, but under different circumstances, I would still want to see all of you.”

Sylus lets you squirm out of his firm hold on you, allowing you to look past his scaled rocky chest and down to where the red tapered tip of his cock rests against his torso. And it's thick. The tip alone must be fatter than your fist. You can’t see beyond the tip from the angle you’re being held at but if it reaches this high up his body, it must be massive. Maybe you can’t help him the way he needs. 

The expression on your face must give away your shock at his size, as Sylus looks down to his cock and back up to your face, awaiting a reaction. 

“What exactly do you need from me to help you?” You ask hesitantly, gauging the severity of his need to fuck you. 

Sylus groans at your questions, low and deep, hips bucking forward like the mere thought of what you’re offering makes him throb. As he leans back to rest on a nearby tree, his hands tighten around your waist, just slightly, as he responds. 

“Need to fuck you,” he huffs, “To eat you,” he presses his face against your neck, “to breed you,”, saliva drips down from his scaly maw, landing hot and wet as it slides down the front of your shirt. “Mine.” 

“Mmph.” You moan, a warm wetness beginning to form between your legs at his words. “I’m not sure if you’ll fit, but we can try. Whatever will help you.” Your voice is flakey, shaking with each breath as you try to contain your arousal.

“Will fit,” he licks at your neck, right where your pulse is, “spit will help, will numb, stretch.” As he slides his tongue up, the sheer size of it alarms you and reminds you of how much bigger he is. Its heavy weight feels like a compression around you as it wraps once around your throat. The tip of it drags across your chin, soaking your face in his wetness, stopping before your lips, awaiting your approval. 

As he holds you so close to him, his hands the only thing supporting your body as his mouth pants at your chest, you give in. Accepting that whatever will come, Sylus will not hurt you. 

Opening your mouth, his tongue pushes in, stretching your jaw slightly before it flattens to fit better. Even with only the tip of it in, you’re overwhelmed as it thrashes around your cheeks, saliva beginning to drip down all around your face. 

Yet as it continues, as his tongue soaks your neck and fills your mouth, pleasure begins to stir within you. As his sharp talons hold you above his head, you start to crave more. As his scaly snout pokes into your chest, the feeling of being overwhelmed dissipates. The weight of his touch lightens. The awkward wetness feels comforting. 

And your arousal heightens. The fear that has been holding you back from fully indulging in him is gone, replaced by a carnal need to be used by him. Without even realizing it, you’ve gathered his heavy head in your hands, his tongue almost entirely down your throat as you swallow around it with ease. Face to face with his heavy maw, you finally let loose and moan into his mouth.

He pulls back slowly, unwinding his tongue from its place down your throat. He growls, keeping you eye to eye with him. “Ready?”

Jaw still sore, soaked from spit, you nod dumbly.

“Good.”  And as soon as the words escape his mouth he’s using a claw to rip apart your clothes, just barely leaving a mark on your skin as your tattered outfit falls to the ground. The cool air hits your body hard, nipples hardening in the wind as the saliva dries quickly. You tremble in his hands, partially due to the wind, and partially due to the way your body is out on display for him; the first time he’s seen you naked.

Any insecurities you may have had begin to melt away as he stares at you like he holds the world in his hands. “Beautiful.” He groans, gently caressing your skin with his claws. Despite his beastly exterior, he cradles you as though you are his most treasured possession.

Your skin is taut under his grasp as Sylus lifts you higher until you’re above his head. Staring directly at your exposed cunt, he clasps his maw against it before you can even blush at his forwardness. Gasping at his reaction, every touch seems to set your body aflame with desire. As his scaled lips touch your pelvis, his tongue begins to swirl around your pussy.

“Divine.” He croaks, words muffled by your wetness between his lips. He drags his tongue between your folds once more before diving deeper, the tip poking at your entrance. As his saliva mixes with your slick, your desire heightens. You need him in you now.

“Please, Sylus, fuck me already.”

His eyes snap from their view of where his tongue plays with your entrance, slit pupils dilating as he makes eye contact with you. He takes a deep breath in, then plunges his tongue deep inside.

The sensation is immediate, pleasure taking over your body as his self-lubricated muscle pumps into you, poking around at your gummy walls like it’s looking for room. No, like it’s making room. It’s almost terrifying, watching as his long and thick tongue penetrates deeper and deeper. It shouldn’t fit, but somehow, inch after inch it disappears further until you’re sat entirely on his sharp face.

 His hands hold your body up in the air as he tilts his head back to keep you in an upright position. Your feet, dangling on either side of his head, wrap around his horns to use as some kind of leverage to contrast the penetrating feeling of his tongue pushing against your cervix. “Mmm, Sy-!” You whine, his name the only word you can form as he pumps into you repeatedly. The coiling of his tongue pushes against all your inner walls, all the hidden spots you didn't know could be touched.

His fingers shift, one hand sliding slightly upwards, unintentionally grasping your loose tits between them, while the other wraps lower around your ass. It gives you a better view of his face - and the bulge protruding from your lower stomach every time his tongue flicks forward.

Sylus must catch your gaze, as he withdraws his tongue slowly until just the tip is inside, and he pushes on the bulged area, distending it to lengths that must made possible with the use of his aphrodisiac-like saliva. It hurts, but it hurts good. 

 “Carvin’ out my place in you.” He slurs as best he can without proper use of his tongue. He gives one last squeeze to your breasts, before withdrawing until he’s back to holding you up at chest height to him - still at least 9 feet above the ground.

“Ready?” he pants, “Sweetie?”

Missing the feeling of being filled already, you nod rapidly. Sylus smiles, scales glistening in his smirk, and then lowers himself until he’s lying on his back, keeping your body close to his chest. Feeling the base of his heavy cock rest on your ass is enough to get your body subconsciously moving, humping your hips forward helplessly, looking for any kind of stimulation. The hard texture of his skin beneath you catches against your clit. You lurch forward, hands steadying yourself on his defined abs to get yourself.

A purr-like noise radiating from beneath you causes you to open your eyes which must’ve closed in the chase for release. Sylus’ head is tilted low to watch as you use him and despite the desire in his eyes, he holds an expression that’s entirely human.

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and suddenly, the world around you seems to still. His eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something deeper—infatuation. Relief washes over his face, softening his features as if the weight of years has been lifted in a single breath. It’s as though he’s finding solace in your acceptance of him, releasing the fears he’s long held about how you would perceive this form. He looks at you as if this moment is something he had once dared to hope for but never truly believed would come—an unspoken dream, now realized. His expression speaks of a man who has waited a lifetime for this, for you, and for the peace that comes with being seen and accepted completely.

“Sylus,” your voice comes out dripping with desire. The hardened skin beneath feels good, but you need more. There’s an aching emptiness within you, now that you’ve felt his tongue carve out a place in you. “Need you inside me. Now.”

He tosses his head back, throat exposed as he arches his back like you’re words alone pushed him closer to his release. His hands fondle your body before gently raising you up and back so you're sitting with his cock in front of you. And it is indeed massive. 

From where it rests against his stomach, you can see now why it felt so heavy when it was behind you. The base alone is almost as thick as one of your thighs. It shoots up at least a foot before tapering off to a tentacle-like tip that’s almost sized like a normal penis. 

There’s no way that’s fitting inside of you. 

“There’s no way that’s fitting inside me.”

Sylus huffs in what could be considered humour, before his expression softens. “It will… Some of it. Trust me.” He lets go of his grab on you and offers a hand. As your tiny palm slides around one of his fingers, just barely able to grasp it entirely in your hand, his wings wrap around your body like a shield of privacy. 

“Trust. Please.” His voice comes out more breathy than before, his chest rising and falling deeply with each breath. It’s then that you notice the tension in his shoulders, the way they bunch up is different than a human body but still noticeable. He must be suffering, holding himself back. 

You turn your head to the side, nose brushing against his taut wing. “Ok.” And with confidence, you lean forward and grab his cock. Holding it with both your hands, the girth is barely contained between your fingers. It’s moist all over, self-lubricating, slippery, and heavy. Sylus gasps under his breath and before your fingers can even reach the tip, he’s sliding you forward and upward. 

Hands flat against his shoulders, your face to face with him once again as he reaches to guide his cock towards your entrance. The anxiety of how he’ll fit must be evident in your face as he leans forward and licks your cheek. 

“I’m ready.” You whisper, and Sylus slowly slips his tip inside your dripping cunt.

Fitting a literal monster cock inside you is not something you can easily prepare for, mentally or physically, for that matter. But somehow, with a mix of whatever is in his saliva and his earlier ministrations, you now sit with almost half of a monster cock deep in your gut. 

The stretch of your gummy walls accommodating his girth is not as painful as you would have imagined. 

It feels like a reward, as if you’re fulfilling a purpose your body was made for.

Because it was, wasn’t it? Isn’t your body destined to take him inside you and milk it until you’re full? Weren’t you made for this? 

The feeling of his tip working its way inside you reveals a hidden will of its own, pulsing and writhing around despite Sylus not thrusting into you yet. He slowly works you down his cock until it seems you’ve hit your limit. With just barely half his length inside, your cunt split open wider than you thought possible, the thumping tip pushes out into the area he fucked open with his tongue. 

“See?” He growls. “Fits. Just need tip.” At his last word, the tip inside pokes out into your belly, a protruding bulge in your front. He takes your hand in his much large hand and pushes back against it, and you nearly cum at the sensation. Based on his reaction, he nearly does too.  

It’s becoming too much and he’s not even fucking you yet. The widening of his girth from where it sticks out of you is lined with rocky scales that hit exactly at your clit, like they were made for your pleasure. The tense bundle of nerves ache for stimulation. You squeeze your legs around the base of his cock, and slowly thrust yourself forward in hopes that he understands what you want. 

He does. Using gentle hands, he holds you up in place before slowly starting to thrust his hips upwards into you. With each movement, his cock pushes through your gut leaving you feeling stuffed and full of desire. Your legs loosen from their grip around his base and instead, hang freely below you as he uses you like a personal flesh light. 

“Fuck.” He growls, hands tightening around you like he’s using your body to keep himself alive. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck.”

You can’t reply, at least not in words. The combination of his fat girth and poking tip render you speechless aside from a few moans of pleasure. “Sy…” you attempt his name, but it’s useless. You can’t focus on anything other than the way he fucks up into you. 

“Mine. Mine.  Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, fingers finding their way to where your body holds him inside, splaying across your belly to feel the weight of his cock inside you. 

The build-up of pleasure grows and grows as he brushes his cock against your clit and insides. Your edging closer and closer to release, but just as you feel your physical pleasure start to take over your mind, everything flips. 

The mossy ground is beneath you as you’re softly placed on the ground. With Sylus still inside your pulsing cunt, he now hovers above you, thick arms holding himself up on either side of your head. His wings flap around, shielding your body beneath him. 

“Mine. No one else’s.” He shouts, not taking his eyes off you as he raises an arm and holds his hand up in a direction away from you. Between the folds of his wings, you see movement: more wanderers. A few gnaves, they’re launching in your direction but a red whirling mist surrounds them before they can reach you. 

“Mine!” Sylus screams out, sharp fangs agape as he bares his teeth in the direction of the gnaves. From his position, he starts lightly thrusting his hips forward into you. The sharp pang of pleasure as he fucks into you draws your mind away from the looming threat of wanderers. 

You close your eyes, hands out grabbing for his chest, his arms, anything to ground you. A splattering of wetness across your face forces your eyes open in shock. Sylus stares down at you, his face and yours dripping in wanderer blood. Beside you, the dead bodies of the beasts disintegrate leaving only their protocors. Sylus fucks back into you. 

“Mmmph! Fuck - M’ yours!” You scream out, pulling his horned head towards you again and diving into his mouth. His long tongue laps at your mouth in anticipation before you let it slide in and down your throat once more, the numbing of the saliva still in effect as it mixes with the blood across your face.

“Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed.” Sylus pants into your mouth, words obstructed by his tongue down your throat. 

“Mmhmm.” You whimper, unable to form words between the harsh fucking of his cock in you and his tongue in your mouth. 

”I’m…” he groans, “here.” He lowers a hand to your stomach, the bulge less visible than the previous position but still just as deep in you as he fucks forward. 

“My place.” The tip of his cock squirms around and fucks up into you at a pace faster than his hips, smooshing against the thing wall of skin separating it and his hand on the other side. It feels like being fucked twice, one thick and slow, stretching against your clit. The other, thin and fast, pumping around against your cervix in whatever space has been molded to take it. 

“No one else.” His gaze is animalistic, hungry, desperate. With each thrust his hardens torso twists and twitches, your tiny body beneath him rocking back and forth on the ground. It hurts, it’ll definitely leave bruises on your skin, but the pleasure overtakes you. 

He slides his tongue out of you and it slithers to wrap around your throat. He looks over you, head nearly twice as big as yours with his sharp horns dangling over either side of your face. This shouldn't be as enjoyable as it is. You should be scared. The leader of Onichynous is splitting you open on the floor of a wandered infested forest after turning into one himself. 

But the way he stares at you overrides all of those things. He looks down at you with such a longing mixture of emotions. He looks down at you like you’re the most precious and dear thing to him in the world, like he’s been waiting for this, like he needs this like he needs to breathe air. Like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. 

His red eyes widen at your eye contact as you raise a hand to rest against his scaled cheekbone.  Not entirely human. Not entirely wanderer. Completely Sylus. 

His eyes glaze over, whether from the pleasure or the intimacy of the act, you’re unsure. But it moves you to speak. “Yours. Forever.” 

That pushes him over the edge, wings flapping violently behind him, horns scraping into the dirt beneath you without care as he leans his head down beside yours. His tongue squeezes at your throat, his breath and pace quickening as he fucks sloppily into you.

“Fuc- mmph...” he stutters into your ear, trying to form words. And then he whimpers, a high-pitched, voice-cracking cry right into your ear. And then he cums. And you can feel it happen. 

You can feel a sudden warmth spread through your lower half, feel each spurt and twitch of his cock. The pressure increases as it pumps into you and pushes against your walls, making you feel even more stuffed as he stays inside you. 

It must be some kind of wanderer, monster anatomy but you can feel the base of his cock tightening as he cums. It swells and grows, pushing further up against your clit. With each twitch of his hips, the base rubs on the nerves until you finally come undone on him. 

“Fuck! Sylus! I’m-!” You cry out. 

“I know, Sweetie,” he moans, voice hoarse, “Keep cumming. For me.”

You close your eyes, whole body tensing as release tingles through your muscles like a spell. Each pulse of pleasure quivering throughout your body; a blanket of white taking over your every thought. Your legs wrap and tighten around Sylus’ waist as he rocks forward into you, slowing down with every hump as you slowly become overstimulated.

“Nnph. Sylus, too much. Can’t.” You whimper out, eyes squeezed shut as you paw at his torso to slow down.  He doesn’t reply, but his body comes to a halt until he’s still above you. His breath is warm against your chest in slow, warm puffs. Time seems to come to a stop; your body feels heavy, and your mind floating above. There’s nothing besides you, the ground beneath you, and Sylus deep inside you. 

After what feels like hours (but could very well be minutes), Sylus shifts. A sharp claw slides gently under your back, supporting your weight as it picks up you. You keep your eyes closed in a heightened state of bliss, trusting Sylus as he moves until you are chest-to-chest with him while he lays on his back. The leather blanket of his wings rests on your shoulders as they wrap around you, keeping you warm and protected from the outside world. His cock remains nestled deep inside you, your stomach feeling tender - used. As if sensing your awareness to the discomfort, Sylus runs a sharp finger down the crest of your back, humming a cracked and hoarse tune. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. He just sits in the silence with you. 

With the strength of Linkon’s most powerful hunter, you lift your tired head off his chest and peer up at him to find his ruby eyes already staring back at you. He looks unsure, almost vulnerable, an expression that a giant horned wanderer shouldn’t be able to express. His hand steadies on your waist, keeping a light hold on you like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

“You mean the world to me Sylus.” You say, eyes glimmering with intent and honesty. He doesn’t respond but his chest stops rising for a moment, a baited breath like he needs a moment for the words to set in. You can see the thoughts racing in his mind as he stares back at you and for a split second, his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

He looks away before you can comment, a smile returning to his face before looking back at you with a soft gaze. “And you are my world.” He says softly. He pulls you tight to him in an embrace that feels like more than just a hug, nuzzling his scaled-maw to your cheek. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

“Of course.” You smile, care seeping into your voice. “How are you feeling? Are the side effects… gone?” You ask, unsure of how to approach to topic. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I don’t know where I’d be without my feisty little kitten.” he teases, but there’s no bite to his tone - It’s filled with appreciation and truth. He smiles and as he does the tips of his scales begin to crumble to dust.

“You never cease to surprise me, Miss Hunter. I thought I walked this unforgiving road alone. You’ve proven me wrong, I’m sorry for doubting your trust in me.” He picks up your hand in his now considerably more human-sized palm and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll answer all your questions once we’re back at the base. But for now, let me tend to your body. Rest. Stop that wired train of thought in your pretty little head.”

“I don’t think -” you start in protest, but he pushes a no-longer taloned finger to your lips and hushes. “I’ll play kitty cards with you all night long if you wait until we get back.” He bribes, and you can’t find it in you to deny his offer. 

“Pinky promise?” You ask with a small voice, suddenly alerted to the feeling of Sylus’ monster cock shrinking within you and leaving you feeling empty even though he remains within.

“Pinky promise.” He replies, locking his finger around yours and sealing the deal with a spark of red evol energy swirling between you two. He notices your brief discomfort, holding you closer to him with a look nothing short of true love for you. “Thank you for this. You’ve given me a support that I don’t deserve.” He whispers into your ear. You tear your gaze from where your hands are intertwined and are met with human Sylus once again. 

“Don’t insult yourself like that. What we think we deserve and what others see in us are rarely the same—sometimes, we just have to accept the kindness offered.” You say in a stern voice. He looks at you with utter respect, eyes glowing like you’re his queen. “As you wish.” He hums, and it finally seems like everything you’ve said sinks in. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. As stunning as you are, I don’t think dried wanderer blood is a healthy fashion statement.” He lulls as he begins to unwrap his arms from you. 

“Rest, kitten.” Sylus smiles as he smudges dried blood away on your cheek.“Although we’ll need to find where our phones fell to. And new clothes.”

[channiesbakery]

study session —

prompt / request — “go on, baby. ride my thigh.” + “people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

pairing — reader + college fwb!hoshi

word count — 617

genre — smut [thigh riding]

when you and soonyoung were paired up for a project in one of your lectures, you never thought it’d lead to you becoming friends with benefits.

and you definitely didn’t think he was as needy as he is. soonyoung was never shy about letting you know how needy he was or how badly he needed you.

he never hesitated to tease you with filthy messages and photos during your lectures or to send you a “you up?” text at night. of course, you wanted him just as bad so you always responded.

but with midterms coming up, the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other. when soonyoung asked you to come over tonight, you told him you were busy studying and never got a response back.

twenty minutes later, he’s standing outside your apartment with his backpack and two coffees.

“i figured we could use some caffeine if we’re gonna be up all night studying. or you know, other activities,” soonyoung grins when you open the door.

“if you’re gonna stay over, then all we’re doing is studying,” you say, thanking him for the coffee before letting him set up his study materials in your living room.

surprisingly, you do get a lot of studying done. but your productive study session only lasts so long, until soonyoung decides that he’s done enough studying for the night, switching over to annoying you instead.

“i really need to finish this chapter,” you sigh when he moved to sit beside you. “you’ve done so much studying, baby. take a break,” he mumbles against your cheek.

“i can’t–” “you can. the exam’s not for another two weeks,” he argues, massaging your shoulders. “but i really need to–” he cuts you off again, taking your flash cards from your hands.

“i’ll quiz you on these. if you get most correct, you take a break. if not, i’ll help you study some more,” soonyoung says and you take the offer, letting him quiz you.

much to soonyoung’s delight, you get almost all the questions right. “okay but i really need to study the concepts for the ones i missed–” you start.

“nope. a deal’s a deal, baby. time for a break,” he pulls you to straddle his lap. “haven’t done this in weeks, i missed you,” he mumbled before kissing you.

as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you missed him too. you subconsciously start grinding against his lap as you lazily made out.

he shifts your position so you straddle his thigh. “c’mon, ride my thigh baby,” he mumbles against your lips.

soonyoung rests his hands on your hips as you grind against his thigh. “that’s it, good girl,” he praises.

you grip his shoulders, moving your hips faster as you try to find the right rhythm but you can’t. “soonie,” you whimper in his ear and he just chuckles.

“aw, poor baby needs my help?” he teases, his hold on your hips tightening. he guides your hips along his thigh as you whimper against his neck.

your thighs tremble around his as you reach your high. you relax against his chest as he loosens his grip on your hips, slowing you to a stop.

“so… i guess we should get back to studying?” soonyoung teases. “oh no. you’re gonna take me to my room and finish what you started,” you jab a finger against his chest.

“demanding and bossy. i like it.” he hums before kissing you. “and maybe i like you too,” he mumbles against your lips.

“careful there soonie, i thought we were just friends?” you tease, reminding him of your arrangement.

“people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

[bbokicidal]

Joyride | [B.C]

Synopsis: You hear a familiar voice line coming from your boyfriend's phone.

Notes: Thought this would be a fun little drabble between my 4K event posts! I thought of this while playing this month's Hunter Challenge or whatever they're called lol. Pairing: Bang Chan x GN!Reader Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 646

Just as you had passed the living room to head into the kitchen you'd caught sight of your boyfriend sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, his posture as horrendous as it could possibly get. His chin is tucked down against his chest, his thumbs tapping away at his phone screen when it's turned sideways in his hands.

He's focused, eyes darting across the colorful landscape displayed on his phone - and you automatically assume he's playing Genshin Impact from the noises coming from his speaker.

"Two stars," Chris huffs quietly under his breath, making you giggle as you open the fridge door and reach in to grab the juice. Shutting the door, you unscrew the cap with your free hand and set the bottle on the counter, continuing to listen to the sounds emanating from his phone.

"Whatcha doin', baby?" You coo, knowing it'll be at least a few seconds before he answers when he's caught up in his game. "Do you want to help me make lunch or should we order in?"

Chris lets out another breath before he answers, blinking rapidly at his screen as a white light flashes over it and the 'Victory' title displaying as the battle comes to an end. "I can help - Just give me one sec."

Just as you're about to reply and offer up some ideas for what you could cook together, something from his phone catches you off guard; A voice line you were all too familiar with.

"Are you up for a joyride, later?"

"Where do you want to take me?"

"Guess."

You whip around at the counter, one hand staying on it to keep you stable when you stare over at him. "Are you playing Love And Deepspace?"

Chris looks up, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a thin line as if caught red handed. "Maybe," He quips, giggling shortly after when you begin to approach him. His smile pulls at his cheeks and makes them dimple, the couch cushion creasing under your weight as you kneel beside him.

"Show me what outfits you have on the boys!" You grin, reaching to tap at his screen to try and get back to the main page. You want to see what guy he has to greet him, what outfits he puts the guys in, and how many Kitty Card badges he's collected! "Do you have any 5-Star Memories?"

Chris giggles, this time a little more sheepish as he taps into his Memories and tips his phone to show you four out of the five from this year's Valentines Event; The Event where the boys were all dressed up in chains and black leather outfits; The Event that introduced everyone to the characters with deliciously styled mullets. "I have these? But I don't have that many other ones," And he's a liar; Lying right to your face when you can see how many memories he has for Rafayel. Your jaw drops in disbelief and you grin, laughing out breathily at the sight of just how into the game your boyfriend was - and the fact that you had no idea.

"I cannot believe you," You breathe out, clicking through his memories while leaning into his side to see what all he has. And he welcomes it; Truthfully, he loves how into mobile games you are. It makes him feel better knowing sometimes he can spend hours on Genshin while you ogle pretty men in LADS while you lay in bed next to each other.

Chris smiles down at you while you're distracted, watching you go through his game to see all of his collectibles. Though, he's not going to address the fact that he's already level 93 - Nor is he going to mention why his affinity level with Rafayel is Devotion: 160.

He's wholeheartedly devoted to you, of course; But... come on; It's Rafayel.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

[woso-dreamzzz]

Nagging: Christmas

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Mignon

"It's...a can," Alexia says blankly, turning over the present in her hand," Is this...Is this a French thing that I don't understand?"

"Don't look at me!" Vicky says quickly when her captain's eyes turn to her," I'm, very clearly, not French!"

"But you are y/n's friend," Alexia replies," Has she told you anything about this?"

Vicky shrugs as she hands the last wrapped can to Kika to open. "Just to hand them out to everyone, let you open the wrapping paper but not the actual cans."

They're not branded or anything, Alexia notes as she turns it around in her hands. There's no labels to give away what's inside and even shaking it doesn't help.

"Maybe..." Keira says as she rattles the can while holding it up to her ear," Maybe...it's beans?"

Aitana lets out a little titter of a laugh. "Not everyone is English, Keira. Not everyone likes beans."

"Yeah," Patri joins in," Besides, she's French! Aren't they known for their good food?"

Keira wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Yeah, their snails and their frogs legs. Hardly the most appetising. At least beans are versatile."

"It won't be beans," Frido says simply," And it won't be food. It'll be something else."

"Any idea what?"

Frido shrugs. "No food, is all I've got."

"Well can she hurry up?" Mapi says," Because it's cruel that she's making us wait."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "She's getting treatment right now. She can't exactly hurry that up."

Mapi groans, practically throwing herself back into her seat as she fiddles with the can in her hands. "She totally did this on purpose," She complains to no one in particular," I just know she did. She's trying to kill me."

"You just need to be patient."

"But I hate being patient! Patience is a scam!"

Alexia sighs. "Ingrid-"

"Nope. Not my problem when she's with the team. It's a shared responsibility."

Maybe you did choose to schedule your treatment just to screw with Mapi a bit but it was one of your greatest joys in life and Christmas was all about giving. You're sure Mapi enjoyed giving you her time as she was forced to wait around for you to appear to finally open the can you'd presented her.

You'd made sure to really stress how important this was to you, for nobody to open their cans before you'd arrived.

You'd insisted it was a present that the team would have to enjoy together.

Or else.

You'd left the 'or else' bit purposely vague just to keep everyone on their toes and, now, as you open the door to the locker room, you're happy to see that everyone had done as you told them.

"Finally!" Mapi complains, leaping to her feet from where she'd been laying on the bench with Ingrid's fingers gently carding through her hair. "You took ages!"

You grin. It's more of a smirk actually and you can hear Vicky snicker behind you as you shrug. "Just trying to keep on top of my health," You tell Mapi," My hamstring was feeling kind of tight. I wanted to get it massaged out. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't? I might have torn it on the pitch."

Mapi pokes you right in the middle of the forehead. "And you couldn't have done that hours ago when you and Jana were fighting on the Playstation?"

"It's almost like, Mapi, that you want me to delay the can opening until later."

"Ingrid! Tell her to stop teasing me!"

Ingrid relaxes back in her cubby, completely at ease with herself as she scrolls through her phone to find the perfect Christmas gift for her nephew. "I'm not in charge of her."

"Keira-"

"Just because Lucy left doesn't mean-"

"Alexia!"

"One day," Alexia says to no one in particular," One normal day is all that I ask for."

You flash Mapi a grin.

She sighs. "Can we please open our presents now?"

"Why Mapi," You say with that smug smirk of yours," All you needed to do was ask!"

Mapi makes some annoyed noises at you, acutely aware that any kind of insult flung at you would end up in a lecture for her. She knew that you knew that too so settled on just making noise as you as you lingered in the doorway.

Honestly, staying in the doorway should have been their first clue that this present opening wouldn't be quite as normal as usual. Their second clue should have been the way that you were holding your phone, clearly set up to record their actions.

The third and final clue should have been the mischievous grin that you and Vicky exchanged as she tilted the can away from herself and towards the person standing next to her.

"Okay?" You say," Ready? Open!"

It's carnage immediately as the fake snakes spring from all of the can and the glitter you had paid more for went everywhere.

You high five Vicky before immediately sprinting out of there when Pina lunges at you.

You know she's running after you when the pounding of her feet reaches your ears and you know everyone else is following when the sound of the feet get louder and louder.

"Get back here!" Pina yells and you take a sharp corner through the corridors to the break room.

You come to a skidding stop in front of the tree, whipping around just in time to dodge the flailing hands of Kika as she tries to catch.

"Now," You says, laughing awkwardly as you scramble up onto the countertops," Would it make you happier to know that I've got you all non-joke, stuff-you'll-actually-like presents? Because I have!"

You gesture to the tree and, thankfully, most of the anger seems to melt from the others as they go about distributing them - though Mapi narrows her eyes and glares at you as she passes.

"It's very nice that you bought us proper presents," Alexia says, giving you a sideways hug," But you're going to get that locker room all cleaned up before everyone heads home."

You groan.

"No complaints," She cuts in with a laugh," That's the price you pay for playing pranks during Christmas."

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

[bambisnc]

      𝖮𝖮𝖯𝖲 !   % luggage mix-ups&cute strangers

            ST✮RRING───𝗡.𝓡𝗞 ୨୧ 2566 && 𝐖. crackfic wigs implied frozen 1 slander jake + jungwon mentioned lilo&stitch mentioned sunghoon & minju appearance as airport staff reader wears glasses + likes sanrio

ㅤ𝖤𝑋𝖳𝖱𝖠 ㅤ ( > ㅅ < ) ㅤ i really went ALL out for this >< my longest drabble yet! thank you to mana for emotional support during my many crashouts, and shoutout tewww juni, koi, lilly for listening to me yap about my idea and mi + ai for semi proofreading ! i love ygs big time MWAH

                  check out my other account ! 𝖢𝘓𝗂𝖢𝖪     ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂

after getting off of a terribly long and otherwise unpleasant flight, all you really want is to grab your luggage, find a cab back home and face-plant into your comfy, cosy bed. and then stay there for a minimum of 15 hours.

it was the only thing keeping you going, really.

but of course, the universe has other plans for you. 

you should’ve caught on to that, from how suspicious it was that as soon as you reached baggage claim … by some stroke of luck, you spotted your suitcase immediately. 

oh, joy! for once, you wouldn’t have to stand like an idiot for an odd 25 minutes, watching various pieces of luggage roll out on the conveyor belt, moving so slowly that it was almost mocking. 

with a quick internal cheer, you’d rushed to grab the handle of the bag. 

… only for another hand to also be picking the same suitcase up?

oh! you get it. the stranger who you’ve now appraised with a quick glance (really tall, sharp features and nice hair) is just helping you out!

maybe there is good in the world, after all!

you flash him a quick smile, ready to thank him for being so nice, but really, you can handle the suitcase on your own,—before a scowl takes over his pretty features. 

okay. rude. 

hot people should not be allowed to look that annoyed and still be attractive. 

“i’d really appreciate it if you’d stop trying to steal my luggage,” he tells you, the words forced out through grit teeth. 

you find yourself sympathizing with him for a minute, the slight bags under his eyes quite telling of a rough flight.

but no. you’ve had a difficult flight too.

you’ve had to listen to a toddler whine about why frozen 2 is better than the first one for the greater part of 3 hours (who honestly did have some good points, if you really think about it). 

you’ve had to deal with some stupid 13 year old who kept reclining his seat farther and farther back (and after you politely told her to stop, she stuck her tongue out at you. the audacity.) 

and the worst of all. 

the guy seated next to you kept trying to get you to invest in his potential cult / pyramid marketing scheme for yak fur wigs. 

you kept telling him you were broke but you’re quite sure he didn’t even listen to one word you said. especially because when your flight landed he handed you a business card, which was just as sketchy as his description of his business that was about to “take the world by a storm.”

so, no. fuck being nice. you simply do not have the energy for that right now. 

“right,” you say, in a voice equally as strained, “that’s funny, because this happens to be mine. maybe try actually, oh, i don’t know, looking at it before you accuse me of “stealing” my own luggage.”

at that, the man’s scowl deepens. he tugs the suitcase towards him once, the movement sharp, and you almost fall right into his chest. but you manage to stop yourself right in time. 

all those tiktok balancing exercises—which you did only out of peer pressure from creators who insisted that if you scrolled away without dropping a follow and stretching your limbs as they were doing in the video, it would be nothing short of catastrophic—must be finally coming into use. 

“my vision is completely fine. 20/20, in fact.” he says smugly, with obvious disdain towards your own glasses. 

how dare he hold your bad eyesight against you like that. 

this means war. 

“clearly it’s not,” you slide the suitcase back towards your own figure. “because this is mine. good luck finding your own though! may i suggest paying ‘Lost & Found’ a quick visit?”

mr. stranger scoffs at that. loudly. “you can’t really think MY suitcase is yours.”

“well, yes, unless this is actually opposite world wherein your suitcase ALSO has a huge dent at the bottom from where it hit the edge of MY dressing table 5 days ago.”

“you have got to be kidding me.” he sighs, looking tired. the AUDACITY. “i know that dent. that dent is there because jungwon dropped the bag out of my balcony last month, and it slammed right into jake’s remote controlled drone.”

“a drone. really.”

“it’s … a long story.”

“i’m sure it is. i fully believe that happened.” you earnestly say, nodding along with your own words, “jake and jungwon are totally real people and you definitely put a lot of thought into that lie.”

“they are real people, dammit. and i’m not lying.” 

you blink up, the picture of innocence. “but y’sound awfully defensive for someone who’s so sure he’s right …”

that does it. his jaw tightens. “okay listen here, you—” mr.stranger’s face has flushed an angry cherry shade by now, and you have to bite back laughter at the image. 

but thankfully, right before the situation can elevate to a physical comic book-esque fight over the suitcase in question, a third party finally interrupts. 

what looks to be a rather, harassed looking airport assistance staff member appears in front of you with a bright, if slightly worried exclamation, “sir! madam!’ 

her voice is breathless, slightly shaky with effort, “we’ve been getting constant complaints from the elderly lady over there–she, um, says you’ve been blocking the conveyor belt.” 

you glance behind. and sure enough, a crowd of mildly entertained but mostly frustrated passengers stares back. 

“i believe the two of you have something to work out regarding that suitcase?” the assistant prods gently, “i could direct you towards the airport authorities, if you’d like?”

“there’s no dispute here!” you pipe up, confidently. “i’ll just be on my way with my suitcase, thank you though!” 

you turn around ready to leave, hoping mr.stranger (you should maybe consider asking for his name, at some point) has forgotten about thinking your suitcase was his. 

you almost walk away. almost. but right then, his hand grips onto your wrist, effectively stopping you. 

“just a minute, doll.” his tone is lowered in what you assume is annoyance in a way that, embarrassingly, sends a shiver down your spine, “there’s just one small problem. that suitcase is still very much mine.”

“fuck off, you very well know this isn’t yours?!”

the assistant raises her hands placatingly, “alright, alright—let’s all calm down here. i really suggest going to the .. baggage authorities.” her tone clearly emphasizes that it wasn’t a “suggestion” at all.

you and mr.stranger, suddenly feeling slightly conscious, exchange a glance and unanimously decide to comply. 

soon enough, you’re taken into the office by her and presented to a uniformed man behind the counter. 

he takes one look at you and mr. stranger, gaze squinted in silent scrutiny. the practiced customer smile that he directs towards you soon after is only slightly forced.

“another 320LMAO, is it minju?,” he asks the assistant, tone dry and oozing of boredom. “not one day goes by without one of these. i’m getting too old for this shit.”

“you’re 22, sunghoon.”

“i meant metaphorically. obviously. get with the times, minju.”

“do your job, sunghoon.”

sunghoon grumbles at that. he takes an additional 10 whole minutes to stare at you and mr.stranger, respectively, before wordlessly beckoning for the suitcase. 

mr.stranger obliges, sliding it towards him with a weirdly unnecessary flair. 

“as much as i’d hate to interrupt the .. uh,  proceedings” he begins, “... what exactly is a 320LMAO?”

minju the assistant sighs and mutters something under her breath which sounds a suspicious amount like here we go again. completely contrasting her demeanour, sunghoon’s face lights up like he’s been waiting years for someone to ask.

“it’s code, actually! lingo for the cool, hip airport guys, if you will—Luggage Misidentified Again Ohmygod. LMAO. and the 320 is there because minju said it’d sound more official like that.” 

minju looks like she’d rather be anywhere else at the moment and flusters around for a second or two before gesturing something towards her phone and all but booking it out of the room.

so, basically, you and YOUR suitcase are totally in good hands. 

“... and so, finally, after 6 days and 23 whole hours we were able to find that battered, orange warrior of a suitcase.” .. sunghoon’s still talking, rather passionately now, about what you’re assuming are the origins of 320LMAO, “and ever since that day, this beloved code has been put in place. thinking about the story gives me chills. literal chills.”

when will this be over? you just want to go home, for god’s sake. with a sideways glance towards mr.stranger, you catch a glimpse of his incredulous expression at sunghoon’s story and let slip a giggle. 

he turns to look at you upon hearing your little laugh, and his own tensed features finally give way to a slight smirk. you almost let bygones be bygones due to the sheer reason that he looks … really pretty now that you’re really looking at him. 

you can always get a new suitcase, yeah? might as well let him have this one!

“you’re not even listening.” is sunghoon the official … pouting at you and mr.stranger? “oh. i get it. too busy having your little romcom moment to listen to the greatest story of all time.” 

a sound not unlike a strangled half-choke, half-cough leaves mr. stranger, “excuse me? we’re really not—”

“whatever. you wouldn’t it get it, anyway. let’s get this over with.” the official crouches down huffily, unzips the suitcase and flips the lid open in a way that only reveals the contents to himself. “woah.”

???

“i need each of you to state some things you had packed in your luggage.” he says, eyes flashing with a hint of amusement. 

your my melody makeup bag. a blue cinnamoroll themed polaroid camera. one kuromi plushie. you oblige this information with zero hesitation. you’re proud of your sanrio obsession. who could even say one singular bad thing about something so whimsical and cute and joy-giving?

sunghoon nods slowly. 

mr.stranger says he has a chrome hearts hoodie, a new pair of headphones and .. one kuromi plushie. for his younger sister. interesting.

sunghoon nods, facial expression betraying nothing. he’d be really good at poker, you find yourself thinking, right as he clears his throat and makes his verdict, “... well. i don’t even know what to say. you guys can just .. have a look inside, i guess.”

very professional.

however, you both lean in as soon as he words out the sentence, eager to finally, finally put an end to this.

there’s a pause. all you can really do is stare.

“... what the hell?” mr.stranger mumbles, tone so unbelieving and full of wonder it elicits a snort from sunghoon.

you blink. once, twice. 

the shock of plain, mousy brown that greets you from the inside stares back resolutely. 

the suitcase appears to be full of … wigs? 

you really hope they are wigs.

sunghoon uses one gloved finger to daintily edge away a few of the .. wigs .. present at the surface to reveal … 

… what looks to be a gorgeously painted porcelain sink (yes like the one where you do the washing), exactly 2 and a half bowling pins (one of them being somehow broken vertically) and a metal case. 

which on further investigation turns out to be filled with miniature replicas of medieval weaponry. 

oh, and, one life sized victorian era accurate crown. 

“so?” the official prods, “whose is it, then?”

“that … is definitely not mine.” you immediately say, only for mr.stranger to exclaim in a way that overlaps with yours completely.

“uh. yeah, no, same.” he adds, stepping back like the suitcase might be infectious.

the deadpan expression on sunghoon’s face says everything he’s probably too polite to actually voice out. but thankfully, minju—your life saving grace, an angel from the heavens,your .. knight in shining armor, even—peeks into the room right at the moment.

“sunghoon. emergency. a child has climbed on top of the “lilo & stitch” display and won’t get down. he says frozen 2 is the superior movie and demands to meet olaf.”

“againnn?” said man whines, “i’m so over this shit, ugh.” but after a quick little tantrum he does eventually leave the room, grumbling out a short “don’t touch anything” to you and mr.stranger.

obviously, you and mr.stranger unanimously decide to touch everything.

in the suitcase, that is.

aside from the wigs. obviously.

“hey, mr.stranger guy—”

“??? it’s nishimura riki.”

“that, yes. this crown looks like it’d be the perfect size for you. that’s suspicious. are you sure the suitcase isn’t yours?”

riki squints at you, then looks disdainfully down at the crown in your hands. “…not my style. and more importantly, i wouldn’t be caught dead with those … wigs … ever. my hair is very natural, thank you very much.”

you burst out laughing at that; maybe the hours of travelling induced sleep deprivation is finally catching up to you. riki rolls his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards at your reaction.

both of you sink down to the floor in front of the open bag, knees just about brushing. 

“what’s their story, do you think? whoever this suitcase belongs to.” you wonder aloud, after a beat. 

“hm. i’d say they were a member of royalty with a deep love for waffles, bowling and plumbing. and a family history of male pattern baldness. just a guess.”

 “or,” you begin solemnly, “someone pulling a medieval-themed heist … against a bowling league. the waffles were a heist snack and the sink was a spoil of the battle. a sign of our guy’s victory, if you will.”

riki nods in agreement, not even trying to hide his smile anymore, and it’s a little too successful in disarming you for someone who called you a thief merely minutes ago. “that makes perfect sense.”

you find yourself grinning back despite yourself. “come to think of it … this one guy on the plane was trying to recruit me as an investor in his yak wig business …”

exactly on cue, the office door creaks open by some divine intervention and you see outside the following events happen in rapid succession : 

sunghoon, attempting to wrestle off a child who is resolutely clinging onto a “Stitch” from “Lilo & Stitch” cardboard cutout while simultaneously trying to reason with a man (is that mr.yak wig business seller himself?) and assure him that the airport staff are doing everything they can to find his precious suitcase.

and then telling him that no, sunghoon will not be investing in his business because frankly, it sounds like a pyramid scheme.

neither you nor nishimura riki think to put an end to the sheer chaos outside by simply telling the yak wig business man that his suitcase is, in fact, right here.

because, honestly, you couldn't care less about the suitcase anymore. let the airport staff figure that one out themselves.

you’re a bit too caught up having your little romcom moment with riki, after all. oops.

but hey, at least you’ll have a good laugh about all this at the coffee date he’s just asked you to tomorrow! ^-^

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[ 𝑓𝗋𝑜𝗆 陰 ] : my longest drabble yet .. possibly my longest piece of writing in general ... my magnum opus, my baby, my child. i live love laugh this drabble. hi.

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