#overthinking!reader

[prettyg1irlstears]

i have a thought!!! rafe x jealousgf!reader whos very petty towards rafe’s ex.. kinda like the bridge from obsessed by olivia rodrigo..

is she friends with your friends? is she good in bed?

do you think about her? no, i'm fine, it doesn't matter, tell me

is she easy-going? never controlling?

well-traveled? well-read? oh, god, she makes me so upset

pairing: bf!rafe x jealous!overthinking!reader

sweet, innocent, kind, naive. those were the words everyone told rafe when you two started dating, taking in the sweet little bimbo persona you had on. but only rafe knew how you really could get..

it’s not like you were evil, no. you truly were exactly those nice words, rafe would never even think about saying otherwise. but what noone apart from him knew was how jealous you could get, especially when it comes to his ex-girlfriend.

because she was the complete opposite of you; baddie makeup, sleeked hairstyles and revealing black clothes.

you were always so self-conscious when it came to her, because how could he go from someone like her to someone like you? plus, she was extremely pretty. and your overthinking brain was scared that maybe one day rafe will get tired of your sweet bimbo self and will go back to the confident baddie of his ex.

like tonight. there was a party at the local beach bar where all the kooks were drinking and just having a good time.

all the kooks apart from you, because your eyes lingered on your boyfriend who had apparently a good conversation because they were laughing together.

what are they laughing at? are they talking about me? are they laughing at me? are they flirting??

your mind ran faster than usain bolt as you nervously tapped your foot and fidgeted your ring on your finger. you ordered your third margarita in the row, not even smiling at the barista like you normally would. you weren’t smiling, or even looking on anyone, to be clear. you couldn’t take your eyes off of—

you gasped. did she just touch your boyfriends shoulder? your jaw clenched, you tapped your foot harder. you start thinking what their relationship looked like. was she on top? she probably was. something you could never do. you - ex; 0 - 1. she probably got along with his friends, too. you did also, but they saw you as rafe’s dumb girlfriend more than their friend. you - ex; 0 - 2.

you sigh and shake your head, trying to fight the nect wave of overthinking as you sip on your margarita. but your eyes drift to them once more and.. her hand is still there. on your boyfriends fucking shoulder.

you decide you’ve had enough, you stand up, adjust your little dress and start making your way towards them. you come up behind him, softly massaging his shoulders and innocently moving his ex-girlfriend’s hand away from him as you move your face next to his head.

“baby, miss you,” you murmur into his ear and kiss him beneath it, in an attempt to catch his attention. you feel him relax a little bit and you also see a small smile on his lips.

“oh hi sweetie,” he kisses your cheek, placing his hands on yours and then continuing to chat with his ex.

is he for real? you think as you frown for a split second, but immediately put on an innocent smile again. you continued peppering the side of his neck with kisses, in a reminder of you.

“come sit on my lap, sweetie,” he pats his lap and a flame of warmth sets in your heart as you sit on his lap with a smile.

after a while of talking, his ex-girlfriend goes for a new drink. when she leaves, rafe leans in and whispers into your ear: “i saw the way you looked at us, sweetie. don’t worry, we were just catching up, glad you came.”

your princess parts flutter as he licks a long stripe along the side of your neck, a small gasp leaving your lips. “y’know y’re the only one f’me, yeah? gonna show it to you tonight, baby.”

so sorry this took me so long love :(

divider creds here!

[yellowroseswrites]

This one is more of a cathartic work than a comfort work, but if you need an outlet or something to call you out then you have certainly come to the right place. This is a part of some quick blurbs I wrote while I wait to post my longer fic requests :)

[TW, PLEASE READ, I cannot stress enough how triggering this fic could be. It is written mainly from an overthinking, self hatred, train of thought pov and its filled with terrible things about readers self image. It doesn't have any comfort at the end, only crying. Again, it's more of a vent fic than a comfort fic, please don't read if you think it will trigger you. If i missed any tw pls let me know. Feel free to reqiest a blurb in my asks ! <3]

Modern! James potter x Fem! reader-

"Pretty Girls"

It had been four hours. Four full hours of you scrolling through tiktok only to find every girl who was prettier, skinnier, and better than you. You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't find it in you to stop scrolling. You had to figure out how they did it, you need to know how to make yourself look like they did and talk like they did and smile like they did and walk like they did and move like they did. You had to make yourself be like them.

James knocked gently on the bathroom door, "Baby," he started, "It's been awhile, are you okay?"

Of course you weren't okay. They were pretty. They were skinny. They has straight teeth. They weren't sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor praying that they could fall asleep and wake up in a different body.

"Love?"

And James, poor James. He's so perfect, so correct. He deserved a pretty girlfriend, He deserved someone who could make him feel good. Someone who wouldn't hurt him when they sat on him, someone who knew what they were doing and could do anything they set their mind to.

"I'm coming in okay?" 

The door knob clicked as it opened. You didn't hear it. You couldn't see the concerned look on James' face through your tears. You couldn't feel his hands on your shoulder, in fact, the only thing you could feel was the bile raising in your throat. You felt weird, you felt gross. You felt so full of hatred towards yourself and you didn't know where to put it. You didn't know what to do with it.

"Hey, look at me. What's wrong?"

You looked at him, but it only made you feel worse. He was so pretty. You focused on the feeling of his hand on your shoulder. It was a nice hand, a great hand even. You didn't deserve that hand.

All of a sudden all that you could think of was to get away from him. You were going to contaminate him with your grossness. You couldn't do that. You pulled your shoulder closer toward yourself and pulled your knees up into a ball. When James tried to move closed you swatted at him with your arms,

"No, no, no, g- go away."

You could barely get words out. You didn't want to speak. You didn't have a good enough voice to speak. You wanted to be gone, you wished more than anything that you could disappear. You put your head against your knees and cried. You cried and you cried and you cried and you didn't stop.

James didn't try to touch you again. He sat back against the wall opposite of you and cried with you. He didn't cry because he didn't want you. He didn't cry because you swatted him away. He cried because you were in pain and he didn't know how to make it stop.

Neither of you knew how to make it stop.

[hellamorte]

wade can talk about noble sacrifice and marvel jesusing all he wants but he was ready to die for his friends and for logan, instead of logan, because he wanted him to live. “say hi to my friends for me, peanut”, says the man who wants logan to become a part of the group, a pack, again, to take his place in protecting the people he loves, probably the only one he trusts to do so. and there is so much love in his desire for logan to stay alive and finally experience something good in life

[bokutoko]

ᴀᴋᴀᴀꜱʜɪ confessed his feelings in a handwritten note.

he felt silly, really. a grown man, working a full time job and living on his own as a (mostly) fully functioning adult, and he couldn’t seem to say how much he cared for you to your face? it was a shame how much akaashi’s overthinking truly held him back. he was a handsome man, with a tall, lean—though recently gone softer—build, a full head of soft and healthy hair, and a pair of beautiful chocolate brown eyes that had the ability to bring anyone to their knees.

he was gorgeous.

but his mind betrayed him often, acting as his own worst enemy.

before he psyched himself out this time, though, he grabbed a pen and paper from his desk drawer. before he lost the courage, he wrote a note from the heart, explaining how wonderful you were—how you helped him believe in himself, offered advice and listening ears when needed, and brightened his days every moment you were on his mind—which was all the time, actually.

he hastily folded the note in the envelope, signed your name on the front, and placed it on your desk face-down before you and his other coworkers returned from lunch break.

hopefully, you’d see it.

and you did see it. reading every word over and over and over, your cheeks felt hot, stained scarlet.

akaashi didn’t want to look, but even if you didn’t feel the same, it was like a trainwreck—he couldn’t look away. in his peripheral, he saw—

you putting the letter away like it was nothing?!

his brows furrowed, confusion settling over his features. he was expecting you to at least meet his gaze; he wanted to see your pretty eyes, even if it was you rejecting him.

but then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. you were ethereal, destined to be his version of the epitome of beauty, his definition of divinity. you were intelligent, quick to match wits with any man who dared to challenge your skills in the workplace. you were incredibly funny—to the point that his drink (embarrassingly) once shot out of his nose at dinner when you told a story (he went home and took a shot of something stronger afterwards).

how could you, the embodiment of perfection, love a man like him, who fought gruesome wars in his mind on the daily?

this was, of course, until later that evening where you both were out at dinner with mutual friends. you mentioned an anonymous note, and that was when akaashi realized.

he forgot to sign the letter.

a/n: oh, akaashi…🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[xlmibby]

one thing about rafayel - he stares at you. a lot.

it was a bit weird, at first, to be an object of fascination. pimples, stretch marks and not-as-perfect-as-you'd-like figure are normal. you know it. your insecurities dig their claws into your skin until it prickles, nonetheless.

so in the end, you want nothing but to scratch it and hide somewhere where his eyes can't reach. somewhere where your demons can calm down in the darkness and you finally stop thinking about all your little insecurities.

honestly, attention is a weird thing. it's kind of scary, kind of exciting... you're not quite sure if it's because of your overanalyzing your imperfections or the way rafayel seems to focus solely on you, but your heart races each time you catch him staring.

you definitely should hide somewhere; for the sake of your own sanity.

perhaps even then, though, you wouldn't be able to erase the burning weight of his gaze that always follows you everywhere you go, clinging onto your skin as if it's a part of you. everywhere you go, rafayel follows and keeps his eyes on you while closely observing... you're not even sure what he's looking at.

or maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to admit it in front of yourself.

because you can clearly see rafayel's eyes sliding over your collarbones and the swell of your breast down to your waist and hips. he watches with a breathtaking precision the way your lips move when you say his name and how the corners of your mouth curl up each time you try to bite down a smile. his eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment and then, glide down to your lips again. rafayel's breath hitches when you swallow and your throat bobs.

fondness bleeds into desire and reflects in rafayel's eyes. but it's only when his mouth trace over each mark and curve of your body - when rafayel mutters breathy words of praise for your beauty that end up being a muffled tremor against your skin - that you realize he wants you. all of you, just the way you are.

[moonlight-prose]

origins logan, raw, passionate, in a truck, while it rains, a little wine drunk. Yeah. 😁

i have no clue if this is a request or just a thought, but i ran with what my mind thought up. but also cause i haven't written anything fully in two months so this is me practicing to get my voice back. enjoy the heinous mess.

warnings: 18+ only past this point.

You expected to freeze with the shitty little heater blowing air cold enough to raise bumps on your flesh. The overbearing echo of rain slamming against the rusted exterior of his worn in (near broken) truck. You expected to die of hypothermia. With the coroners report noting the time of death to be the second he opened that bottle of wine.

You expected a lot of things to go wrong.

That's how you managed to survive this long. In a world so hellbent on destruction, you took the cynics way out and managed to save time on the ride. Things were fucked, hope somehow managed to become a commodity the wealthy could profit off of. And mutants were enemy number one without actually being hunted for fun.

So you took note of the way your breath hung in the air—the flavor of bitter cheap red wine like a pungent toxin that only sunk you deeper onto the silver claws of fate that promised protection. Even as they offered exposure to the elements. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy, his gaze fixed on the way your top gaped and fingers gripped onto the soft leather of his jacket.

You expected this to go wrong too.

That your words would fall on deaf ears, that you would fumble as he slid a hand between your denim clad thighs. How long would it take for him to jolt back to reality? To understand that you were far too much for him to handle as the world fell on his shoulders.

How long could you get away with feeling wanted, yearned for?

When your fingers clawed at the leather seats in the back, your mouth open and chapped from the cold, is when you stopped. Thoughts slipped past the inner psyche of despondent reality. Hope washed over your spit covered shoulders as he bit down on the plush skin with a grunt. Life appeared bright and hot and burned with something new the second he plunged into your sopping cunt.

"That's it," he muttered, lips catching the shell of your ear as his cock carved a new path in your once aching body. "Open up for me baby."

Your words escaped as a mewl. Eyes rolling back and nails digging new shapes into seats he'd have to fix.

He laughed at your mindless state of bliss. "Gone and made you dumb huh? Cleared out that pretty head of yours."

"L-Logan," you managed to grunt, hips slapping back to his quick timed thrusts that struck gold.

"'S okay." Another bite to your spine had your thighs shaking, the slap of his balls lewdly hitting your clit made sparks embed themselves into your soul. "I like ya better this way. You think too fuckin' much anyways. Gotta shut out the bad shit don't I?"

"I'm gonna-"

"Yeah I know you are," he bit out, fingers digging shapes of intent into the flesh of your hips.

You were aware of the truck rocking back and forth. Of the mist gathering on frozen windows and your moans swallowing the sound of rain. You could feel the tingle of red wine in the base of your stomach. The haze of its beauty clouding everything but him and the small confines of this hot car. You were aware of nothing going wrong, of his cock grinding wet and raw into you, of the pool of slick forming on the seat of his car.

Nothing bad existed in this sphere of bliss. Nothing horrid could happen.

Claws punctured the seat beside your head, his hips slapping fast enough to hurt as the tight coil of tension snapped hard enough to halt your heart.

"Fuck!" he roared, sinking into you deep enough to scrape something aching and lovely. His cock twitching hard with each spurt of cum—spilling out onto your mess on shitty brown leather.

Sucking in a breath felt easy, uncomplicated. Your mind drifted into blank thoughts and images of him. Into a state of bliss with Logan's name scratched on the walls.

You expected to freeze. To lose a limb or two from the air cold enough to kill. But then his body settled over yours, his hands cradling your stomach, face pressed into your back. And warmth became the only language you spoke.

[fuji-sen]

Monachopsis; SAGAU Creator!Reader Headcanon

Monachopsis: the subtle feeling of being out of place.

c/w: angst, homesickness, slight cult genshin impact characters.

synopsis: The adrenaline and excitement had worn off, what replaced it was a sense of detachment and the feeling of homesick-ness slowly building up. No longer feeling joy at being treated like a God in your favorite game, you could only feel that subtle but persistent feeling that you did not belong there coupled with the sadness and grief at your past life.

divider credits: @enchanthings

✨ you wonder how things became like this, perhaps it was because you were constantly detained and kept inside a lavish palace, unable to see the outside world.

✨ or perhaps it was how your acolytes treat you.

✨ they did not harm you, but they might as well have all together.

✨ they treat you so full of devotion and reverence. Their touches stiff and light never holding you for longer than it is necessary, their manner of speech was always formal, never jovial even the bard of Mondstadt had a more serious and deep persona when it came to you.

✨ although their goal was simply to respect you for you were their supposed Creator, that very devotion towards you became the very wall that separated you from them.

✨ you could not get close to them, you could not pass that damned relationship between a Creator and a faithful believer.

✨ Furina had been closed to you at least, perhaps because she understood your plights. However your relationship seemed sinful in the eyes of the other acolyte.

✨ you no longer were able to see the cheerful girl.

✨ Buer or Nahida who's ability to read minds and the hearts of people worked on you, but it seemed she had learned from Fontaine's leader, she did not get close to you, however she left more sincere gifts for you.

✨ handwritten letters, books with annotations, even Aranara's were given to you on the guise of being servants.

✨ speaking of gifts, wealth, gems, lavish furniture, clothes made from the rarest fur and the softest silk had been presented to you. At first it made you overjoyed, to received the things you had long for, to become rich and wealthy.

✨ now seeing the pile of untouched presents all you could feel was cold, it was impersonal really. The clothes did not suit you, the gems and gold were useless for you could not even go out to spend it, the furniture as well for it was too big for you to used by yourself and you lacked the friends to even sit together with and have a chat.

✨ however upon seeing your favor towards the dendro archon's gifts, they tried to follow in suit. Yet their letters were simply filled with compliments of your visage, poems and tales about how great you were, talking about you as if you were a historical person they had studied and were doing a greatly embellished report on but never truly getting to know you.

✨ to fight off the feeling of sadness that began to wallow in you, you asked for them, desperately, "treat me as your friend, if you truly love me as your God then treat me how I want to be treated." you'd say.

✨ they looked at each other, before carefully and hesitantly agreeing.

✨ now you felt guilty, they spend their times on you. Chatting with you, telling you stories.

✨ you feast together, with food made by Xiangling and other characters.

✨ but even as they surround you, their conversations became white noise to you and the food seemed tasteless under your tongue.

✨ you did not feel like you belong among them. especially with that nagging voice in your head, snickering and whispering that 'they aren't your friends, they're just acting like it all because their precious Creator begged them to.'

✨ In the past, or your past life, doing something for yourself, by yourself seemed like a chore. The mundane chores, your job, studying even, but now that seemed like a luxury with the title of God.

✨ they did not ask you to do anything, you did not participate in state of the nation addresses, you could not change laws or fight for the people. . at least they didn't let you.

✨ you could not even clean your own room or dress yourself, Noelle took care of the cleaning, Chiori took care with choosing a set of clothes each day for you to wear like you were a kid and Xiangling did the cooking.

✨ It left you with nothing to do, like you had no purpose other than sitting still and looking pretty like a piece of decoration.

✨ Nobody disagreed with you even, nobody argued with you, they were like yes-men. God you began to miss your parents and siblings, you missed your classmates/coworkers, you missed working, you missed being your own person!

✨ it was beginning to eat you up at this point,

✨ to the point you had became overwhelmed with sadness.

might make a mini-headcanon series for this or an actual series revolving around this idea/angst.

do you want a series like this tho? it'd be heavily angst and might just have a bad ending or good ending.

[themeraldee]

Awkward sex prompt: homelander figuring out how to control his strength with a human reader, who still wants rough sex, but would prefer to be alive at the end of it.

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.2k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Realistic sex. Communicating during sex. Choking. Penetration (but not specified). Fluff at the end.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“But I want you to.” 

It really should have been no surprise to Homelander when you requested he goes a little rougher on you in bed. At first he was taken aback, stopping the pace he was fucking into you with, jerking his head back as if offended, choking on his breath in surprise. You know who he is, bringing up the use of his strength is no small ask. But you’ve shown the signs before. He could hear the spike in your heart rate anytime he’d showcase the incomprehensible strength he possesses. Whether it was him moving heavy objects, accidentally bending steel frames in his penthouse or breaking furniture—like that one time he ripped the headboard off during a particularly fine blowjob—you loved it. Though he never thought that your dirty little thoughts went straight to him using that strength on you. 

“What if I can’t hold back?” He looks down where you’re right below him, all flushed and spread out for him. He’s been giving you a damn good time but it’s like you can never get enough of him. Always wanting more, more, more.

“You can. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Adding a tiny bit more pressure isn’t gonna change anything.”

The one thing Homelander loves about you the most is the pure trust you have in him. After all you’ve seen of him you still believe that there’s no world in which he would purposefully hurt you. So to hear you all but beg for him to use strength that has more than decimated many gets his heart soaring. The feeling of acceptance and unconditional love blooms warm in his chest spreading all the way out to the fingertips currently wrapped around your neck.

“Come on, what’s the point of being the strongest man in the world if you can’t rough me up a bit? I’ll tell you if it’s too painful okay?”

Your hand sat on top, your fingers tracing over his as you squeezed your hand.

“A little more.” You guide him verbally and manually. Your hand is still squeezing around his own until you reach a point where you’re satisfied with his confidence to do this himself and you pull your hand away. “Yeah, that’s it.” You squeak out a little breathlessly as he restricts your airflow.

“That’s good?” He asks, choking on his words halfway at the way you squeeze around him while he’s still lodged firmly inside you. He jerks with his movement, giving you a very short snappy thrust but after your little intermission where you taught him how to choke even this little sensation made you moan.

Homelander’s eyes widen when he realizes the sheer potential of your request. Not only could he hear your heartbeat, your shaky breaths and moans, he could now also feel them. Right against his fingertips. The moan vibrated against his hot skin, your heartbeat constantly thrumming all around him. He felt it in the way you were tight and clenching around him and now he felt it under his grip.

He released his hand a little, settling the palm of it in between your collarbones.

“See? Wasn’t that good? I love feeling your strength, let me have a little more of it.” You say it with such conviction, inviting him in, accepting him exactly—no, especially—because of the way he is.

The last thing Homelander wants is to not be able to fulfill your needs. As much as the thought of hurting you—actually hurting you—kills him, if it’s something you find excitement in he’ll be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

He pulls you down the length of the bed a little bit to give himself more space and with a grin he pins your wrists above your head, holding them down against the mattress with little effort. He knows he’s doing something right when that startles you, you let out a cute yelp that quickly turns into a moan. God, he could eat you up with the way you’re looking at him. But he’s gonna need to leave that for round two. Now he’s here to fulfill a wish.

He slowly picks up the pace. He’s thrusting slow and deep while his other hand freely explores your body underneath him, giving it generous squeezes as he goes. He’s testing the give of you. Learning where he can apply the pressure you so desperately crave. 

He’s fucking into your faster now, grunting at the sheer heat of you surrounding his cock with every slide. His hand glides up your body, settling back on your neck. He gives you a look as if he was warning you of what’s to happen. Yet he still manages to catch you off guard. With the snap of his hips and the iron-clad grip of his hand your eyes widen in what Homelander only translates to fear.

Immediately, he lets go.

“Why did you stop?!” You look at him, your own hand gliding across where his hand was squeezing a second ago, as if to chase the phantom feeling, recreating it yourself.

“Why did I stop? You got scared and I don’t want to fucking kill you!” He sounds angry but it’s mainly to hide the genuine worry that comes with this irresponsible play. It’s already hard for him to hold back anytime you’re having normal sex. Wanting him to rough you up conjures very different imagery in either one of your minds.

“Baby, the scary part is the best bit. I know you’ll stop before it’s too much. You can feel the give of my body. Let yourself feel that, okay?” You say softly, soothing his fears. In your entire relationship he’s not managed to hurt you, you don’t imagine it was about to start now.

“Now come on, I wanna cum with your hand around my neck.” You give him a cheeky smile that breaks him out of any doubts he had about manhandling you the way you’ve requested.

He’s given you exactly what you’ve asked for. Just enough squeeze and pressure that you feel so overwhelmed with the greatness of his presence pinning you down and nearly squeezing the life out of you that you succumb to your release. Homelander follows you there, unable to hold off after seeing the way you look at him with such adoration right after he let your airways open fully and you regained your senses. 

After you’re both beyond blissed out you snuggle up to one another, locking the jigsaw pieces of your bodies together.

Homelander traces a finger across the bruised finger marks wrapping around your neck. Part of him relishes in the way he’s managed to brand you where you won’t be able to hide it easily. Even with a scarf or a turtleneck, any slight move of the garment will expose the impressive size of your lovingly placed bruises. 

The other part of him isn’t that happy about it.

“I hurt you.”

“Duh! I wanted you to!” You scoff as if it was the most obvious thing.

His fingers trace over them some more before he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.  

“You’re fucking crazy.” He lets out a little disbelieving laugh as he pulls you closer into his arms.

“Yeah, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, this is all you.” 

“Maybe. Hey, can we try spanking next?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten  @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

[apiciuscats]

— YOU'RE A... CAT?! | Sakamoto Days

🐾 SUMMARY — After an experiment gone wrong, you've magically transformed into a cat! How does your partner react..?

🐾 CHARACTERS — Shin Asakura, Nagumo Yoichi, Uzuki Kei, Gaku, Heisuke Mashimo, Natsuki Seba, Osaragi [separate]

CONTENT & NOTES — Established relationships, probably OOC characters, comedy and fluff, very very mild depictions of fighting [just in case !]. This is my first fic ever on tumblr, and my first official fanfic I ever shared online. I don't write often so keep that in mind before interacting or judging! I'm so nervous posting this. Any advice is appreciated 🥺

WC — 2.2k total. 200-300 per character.

SHIN ASAKURA —

Shin is not used to the change at all. His first thought is prioritizing getting you back. But looking at you now, sleeping in the sun, he starts to wonder if that’s what you really want. Your thoughts are stranger now, harder to read. Sometimes they only appear as images, and the voice in your mind is much quieter. 

Lu is not alarmed at the change at all. In fact, she takes the opportunity to chase you around, trying to pet you or hold you. Shin chastises her to be more careful. She doesn’t offer any good advice on how to turn you back, either, and tries to get you to drink alcohol. Good thing you're still a human inside, or else that could have gone badly. He finds Sakamoto next, but he’s just as useless, only patting your head in silence.

While he’s at the counter focused on thinking, you jump next to him. He looks at your eyes. They’re the exact same colour as when you’re a human. He has to admit you turned into a very cute cat. He looks at you.

”Meow.”

He doesn’t get what you want, but he eventually reaches forward to pet you. 

You leave fur all over him when you lie on his lap. He misses talking to you on breaks, but you still accompany him, tail swaying leisurely and letting Hana pet you, or playing with Piisuke when Heisuke comes by. You seem completely.. unbothered, at least for the time being. He takes a deep breath and tells himself to relax. 

Admittedly he gets worried when he loses sight of you for the first time. He knows typical cats need their sleep and alone time, but he frets that perhaps some assassin took you. Why would an assassin take a cat in the first place, he doesn’t know, but he can’t help but worry anyway. He gets so relieved when he just finds you sleeping or hiding somewhere in the shop or returning from a walk with the Sakamotos. 

Rating: 8/10. He plays with you and gets you back to human form quickly, and you get lots of attention from the employees of the store. 

YOICHI NAGUMO —

He finds the temporary change so cute! You could be stressing out about it and he wouldn’t even care. Loves randomly picking you up and taking you along his merry way or assaulting you with pets. You know the videos where the owner pets their cats more aggressively each time? That’d 100% be him. He just likes teasing you too much!

He buys you all types of cat toys to see if you’re interested in them. Maybe some feline instinct. He waves it in front of you while you’re trying to nap. You don’t seem to be reacting. In fact, you’re rather annoyed at him. But your hissing doesn’t seem to drive him off. But as he places the plastic mouse closer to you, that’s when you strike! You promptly severe the string and fruitlessly throw the mouse at him. Alright, no toys it is. 

Canonically rich. Buys you a lot of luxury cat food. You seem hesitant eating it, so he buys you food both humans and cats can ingest and handfeeds you. Even if he’s a menace, he still wants to make sure you’re healthy and have a full belly to sleep with. 

He knows he eventually has to find a way to revert you to human form again. He busies himself with that when you’re sleeping. For the time being, when you’re awake, he wants to enjoy the time harassing his cute cat partner. 

He certainly doesn’t trust giving you to any of the Order members. Nor does he think any of them would agree to catsit in the first place. If he’s too busy, he opts to drop you off at Sakamoto’s Store, where Hana is more than elated to give you pets. Returns and sneaks up on you [if even he can surpass your now heightened cat senses] and picks you up, ignoring your irritated meows. The best way to get back at him is to scratch his clothing. 

Rating: 6/10. He gets you good food and makes sure you’re alright, but his relentless petting and teasing will drive you up the wall. 

UZUKI KEI —

The predicament is awkward for him. Kashima might know a way to get you back to human form, he thinks, and tries to prioritize that first.

He doesn’t want you to follow him around on his organization business. Sure, the chances of an enemy targeting a cat is slim to none, but there’s a chance for falling debris, or an accidental slash—… and the sight of him with a cute cat following him really diminishes the cold, calculating killer thing he has going on. 

For the time being, he leaves you with Haruma or Kumanomi, who is equally puzzled at the predicament but more than happy to follow his orders or have a cat companion for the day. Gaku seems like the type of person to forget you were there and abandon you, so she’s the only one to trust in this situation. 

He’s not even used to receiving or giving affection while you’re human, so he’s not sure how to approach it when you’re.. well.. a cat. You’ll have to approach him and somehow get it through that you want pets. Meow a lot or lean against his legs, and he eventually hesitantly rubs your head and chin. 

If you really want to follow him while he does his dirty work, he’ll make sure you follow closely. It’s a comical sight to see for the renowned Slur to have a cat following him like a lost lamb, but why does it matter when all the people who witnessed it are dead anyway?

After a bit, he tolerates it and gets used to the predicament. He doesn’t mind giving you a few pats if you approach him. He still wants the entire thing to be over as quickly as possible. He finds out that as cute as you are as a cat, he prefers you as a human much more. 

Rating: 7/10. Given time to at least adjust, he gets you what you need and gives nice pets.. he’s just mostly unsure what to do. 

GAKU —

The situation doesn’t bother him that much. Eventually, someone would find a way to return you to human form. For the time being, the largest loss suffered is someone to play video games with. 

Lets you sit on his shoulder like a Pikachu or on his lap to watch him play games instead. You fall asleep quite easily, and your claws dig into his skin when you try to get a closer look. He doesn’t care that much. You leave cat fur all over him by the time he’s returning to the others. Kumanomi scolds him, so he opts to play shirtless instead when you’re with him. In the end, Kumanomi is still annoyed, but now you have two things to look at when he games, so what is there to complain about?

He doesn’t discourage you following him around for his job. You just have to be careful. Stand too close while he’s fighting and someone’s body soars through the air and almost smashes you into a wall. 

The fright was huge, but at least he comforts you with some snacks. He’s not sure what to feed you. You don’t seem happy with the idea of cat food— you were still a human in there, after all. He settles for sharing some of his chips with you. 

He’s not very protective over you when you’re a cat. He lets you go for walks or leave the area to explore. So long you return by nightfall he’s content with being alone for the day. Internally he does find that the lack of your company feels strange, and quietly makes sure you’re nearby when you return. 

Rating: 8/10. A surprisingly good cat owner. Lets you do what you want or spend time with him. Just try to avoid tripping him up if you must follow him to a fight. 

HEISUKE MASHIMO —

He finds you so cute! He’s good with animals since he has Piisuke. 

He has trouble finding you stuff to eat. He goes to Sakamoto’s Store and shares a bun between the three of you. His friends from the store are certainly puzzled over the predicament, but it’s good that he has companions he can entrust with you. 

For the most part, he wants to keep you close to him. He carries Piisuke on one shoulder and tries to carry you on his other. However, carrying a bird on your shoulder is much easier than carrying a cat. When he gets excited or sprints somewhere, you have to dig your claws into his shoulder so you don’t fall. He only notices a few minutes later and apologizes with lots of head pats. 

The first day or so he gets you, he’s very worried about you and wants you to be with him at all times. Maybe it’s just something about your smaller, cuter form that he frets you’ll get lost somewhere. He’s no better, but at least he has Piisuke to help him, which you don’t!

You probably strayed off to explore or fell asleep under a thick bush and after an hour or so he’s panicking and bawling his guts out thinking you must have got hit by a car or taken by a stranger thinking you were a stray. Piisuke finds you rather quickly and you have to accompany him until he can finally tell himself that you’ll be fine and you need your own alone time too. 

His excitement is admittedly endearing. He’d want to show off to everyone how cute his partner was as a cat!

Rating: 8.5/10. Fun to be around, not too stressed out about the situation and good with pets. His enthusiasm with you can be a bit overwhelming. 

NATSUKI SEBA —

Treats you pretty well, actually.

When he first learns about your predicament, he’s just like “Oh, damn.” He’d work to find a way to revert whatever happened.. but isn’t against the idea of having you as a cat for a day or two. 

For the time being, he doesn’t mind having you beside him while he works on his projects at the JCC. So long he’s not doing too much heavy work, he enjoys the quiet company.

Gives you a few pets from time to time and is smart enough to consider what foods you’d want to and can eat. 

He doesn’t even mind if you leave too much fur on his clothing, whether it be from sleeping on his sweaters or on his lap. He thinks he can just brush it off afterwards. Turns out cat fur has a knack for getting stuck on everything possible. It takes a thorough wash just to get it off. 

Mafuyu judges him when he sees him with too many strands of thin cat fur all over him. While Natsuki’s not that bothered by the idea of being covered in fur, Mafuyu, who is cleaner, does, and at first avoids you like the plague. Your fur is left everywhere, and it ends up getting on him anyway, so he reluctantly gives in and pets you too. 

It can be pretty boring when he’s busy, so he doesn’t mind taking you to the weapons research laboratories too. If the school happens to have anything against pets, he tucks you into his suit and turns you invisible. Easy. So long nobody moves the suit off the ground or questions why there’s a lump on his chest. 

Rating: 9/10. He’s not a bad cat owner and has no qualms with you leaving for a few hours to explore or you getting fur on him. 

OSARAGI —

Thinks you’re too adorable internally! 

She quietly picks you up and goes about her job. She didn’t think you’d have too many problems with her job. Unfortunately, the crashing of stone and the quick movements she makes when fighting are much more startling with your heightened senses. Everything scrapes at your ears and nose. 

Once she finishes with one of her jobs, she looks over only to notice you sitting at the side, looking traumatized. She only stares blankly, wondering what could have gotten you like this. 

Osaragi decides the best way to calm you down is to buy you lots of snacks. She makes a pit stop at a convenience store and presents you an array of food to choose from. It’s rare for Osaragi to share her food without her own terms, so you should be grateful, even if you can only stomach one or two bites. 

Probably unintentionally babies you with a blank expression. It is canon that she’s rather childish at heart. Takes you everywhere like a little furry companion. Eventually, it does hit her that she’ll need you to return to human form sooner or later. She likes you as a human too, so she has nothing against the idea. 

Although I think she’d typically want you by her side, she does let you off her radar throughout the day so you can nap or have some time to yourself. 

Rating: 7.5/10. Treats you pretty well, but she should be more considerate of your cat senses or how terrifying it must feel to be carried while in a high stakes fight, debris and blood everywhere. 

please don't copy or repost/translate my works, or use it to train AI.

pawprint header: @/dogfoodvendingmachine

[alwaysanundertone]

Why try? | poly! marauders x fem! reader

angst / fluff

CW: brief mention of bully, negative self talk, some cursing (?) I think that’s all :)

word count: 1.4k

note: it’s my first mini series and English is not my first language, just wanted to say so in case you spot any error :)

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 coming soon

“Why are they dating me?”

That’s the question that kept flashing in your head 24/7 for the past week.

It all started when you were sitting with your group of friends in the Ravenclaw common room. You had just returned from your secret date with the marauders; even though they wanted to love you in public, you didn’t. It was silly, really, but you didn’t want all of the backlash that it would inevitably come from dating them.

You knew, deep down, that if you were to love them in the open, everyone would be confused as to why they chose you. They were the marauders, for god’s sake, even you had doubts about this… thing that you had been going on, god only knows what everyone else would be thinking.

So you invented an excuse. You told them that your brother was protective over you, that you didn’t want to cause them trouble. You could have been spending more time thinking about a better story: your brother couldn’t care less about your wellbeing, let alone who you dated. It didn’t matter what he really thought, though, because they believed the lie.

It hurt to have to lie to the boys that you were growing fond of, but still, years and years of bullying made you this way. You never really viewed yourself as someone worthy of affection, let alone of love. You never really liked your physique, you hated your nose, you wished you had something special about your physical appearance but you couldn’t find it.

Even your personality didn’t seem worthy of being known, or at least you thought so. You were an A-student, but only because you studied hard. You had a lot of hobbies, sure, but you weren’t exactly good at them. All of this to say, you didn’t deem yourself worthy of their attention.

Now you were sitting with your friends, chatting, and of course, of fucking course, they had to start talking about james.

“I really don’t get how he can be so oblivious about my flirting”

This caught your attention. The girl talking wasn’t exactly your friend, however she shared her room with Emmeline, one of your best friends, so she started hanging out with you. Still, you didn’t know about this flirting until now. You chose to listen quietly.

“… I mean, I even went to his game wearing his damn number on my back. What do I have to do in order to get his attention?”

“I don’t know Aurora… Rumor has it they are all dating some new girl, though nobody knows who she is! They saw them hanging around near Hogsmade, but nobody saw her face. I really thought they didn’t want to include anybody in their relationship”

“Another girl?” Both you and Aurora exclaimed at the same time. This. This was a rather embarrassing situation.

“What Y/N? Decided to join the conversation?”

“Yeah, didn’t take you as a marauder fan?”

This is why you should learn to keep your mouth closed.

“What? Am I not allowed to be curious?”

“Yeah, not like they’ll ever consider you.” Em stared at Aurora blankly, you were sure your face was showing every little thought that was slowly, but surely, starting to crawl over your consciousness, making you doubt yourself.

“What? Don’t look at me like I’m the evil guy. It’s nothing personal, Y/N, but you are just a normal girl, they seem like the type to enjoy someone more… special?”

And that’s when the doubting started.

“Yeah… I think I’ll go study now”

You excused yourself, while you clearly heard Em starting to get angry at Aurora, but you just couldn’t take this.

It was one thing to doubt yourself, but if even your friends thought the same of you, maybe you were right, maybe you should just stop bothering them.

You ran to the library, to the farthest corner. Staring at the rain pouring outside your window, you started to do the one thing you were really good at: self loathing.

A hand made you jump.

“Hey there dovey, didn’t mean to scare my girl”

Remus was looking at you with that loopsided grin of his that made your stomach flip. He called you ‘his girl’, even though you weren’t official, your heart swelled.

“Hey Rem” You tried to smile, you really did, but for some reason your facial muscles couldn’t bring themselves to work. His face immediately fell.

“What is going on?”

You could have just told him.

Maybe you should have.

But you really weren’t one to just talk about problems, you preferred to just pretend.

“Nothing! Nothing I- I just-“ You stopped for a moment. Great job, Y/N, you were doing such a great job! You took a deep breath. “Nothing, I’m just a bit stressed about herbology? You know I’m not the best at it”

He seemed to believe you. “Well, we can study together then?”

Again, you should have said yes.

“I’m sorry I just- I mean, we hung out earlier? Aren’t you tired of me?”

He frowned. “No? Why would I be? Sirius and James are napping, I was actually looking for you? I feel like we hardly ever have some alone time together”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to talk about every little doubt crowding your mind. But you couldn’t, your tongue twisted.

“Oh…”

“But I mean, if you want some alone time I understand!

You simply nodded.

“See you around Remus”

“Okay then? See you around?”

He turned, stopping for a minute, likely pondering if he should just go away or stay to talk. He decided to leave.

You fell even further on the armchair, your mind flooded with doubts.

You sat at dinner, exhausted. You have been spending the whole afternoon running through the endless possibilities as to why they were willingly spending their time with you. Were they making fun of you? Were they just bored? None of your answers made you feel any better about yourself.

Now you were staring at your plate.

“Hey Y/N” Em looked quite concerned. “Are you alright?” You nodded, she frowned.

“If it’s Aurora who got you so sad, don’t worry, I kicked her ass”

You snorted at that. “No, don’t worry Em, everything’s alright. You know I get like that when the winter nears”

She nodded. It was exhilarating how everybody seemed to believe your lies.

Throughout the whole dinner, you sensed three pair of eyes burning through your back. You decided you couldn’t stay a minute longer under their scrutiny, pretending to eat, pretending to have fun. You simply stood up, exiting the Great Hall.

A hand grasped yours, making you jump.

“What’s up with you lot today? Trying to induce a heart attack?” James snickered, tugging your wrist and making you end up in his arms.

You noticed Sirius and Remus looking at you, the latter still sporting the frown he had in the library.

“Just wanting to check up on you. Moony here was quite worried about you, said you seemed sad. Is everything alright?” Sirius searched for your eyes, while you looked at your feet. “Did we make you uncomfortable in any way?”

“No, no it’s not that”

That’s it. You really were stupid.

Remus quirked a brow. “So you are sad about something.”

“Well, you know… the rain.”

James looked like he was about to laugh. “Well yes, it rains quite a lot in Scotland?”

“No, I mean I get quite moody when the weather starts to worsen” At that James hugged you.

“You poor thing, you should have told! Wanna come in our dorm and have a cuddle?”

A cuddle did sound nice, but then again the doubts started to flood your mind. They already had to spend time to someone as uninteresting as you, the least you could do was try to not be a burden.

“No, sorry I just want to take a shower and have some alone time, you know?”

They seemed worried. James looked like a lost puppy, not understanding why you were so suddenly trying to create space between you and them.

Sirius nodded. “Okay love, but if you change your mind you know where to find us, yeah?”

You wanted to cry. To actually sob into their shoulders and word vomit every single mean thing that you told yourself in the last six hours. Instead you just smiled, waved, and ran to your room.

And so began the worst week of your sixth year at Hogwarts.

[moonshapedbox]

swan shaped heart — part two

arthur morgan x preacher’s daughter

a/n: OMG where do i begin…first off thank u all sm for all love chapter one received i’m truly so touched!!! this is the first fanfic i’ve ever posted in my life so it means a lot!!! also sorry it took so long to complete part 2, college has been beating my ass as of lately. trying to update semi regularly but we’ll see!! its still extremely self indulgent though once again bc i’m working lots of things out in my life rn that i think arthur can fix. you can read chapter one here <3

tags: lots of fluff and romantic tension :D hint of age gap, kissing, no smut but fairly suggestive, arthur is kind of mischievous, angsty in some parts if u squint, religious themes throughout obviously, no use of y/n (I wrote in 3rd person hehe), no blasphemy bc i’m religious <3 reader is in her twenties. read at ur own risk.

wc: 5.9k

part two – peaches

“You still coming to the picnic?”

Her words reverberated in his ears like tinnitus. He arrived back at his lodging to grab a few things he forgot, throwing and shoving items into his saddlebags. Was he going to the picnic? That’s all she had to say? He looked up at the sky again, the sun barely cracking up the pale blue sky, humidity in the air from the previous day's rain was suffocating.

Truly, he hadn’t decided yet if he was going to change his mind about it all. It was no mistake, the preacher’s daughter stirred up things in him he hadn’t felt for years. It was foolish to attend, he kept reminding himself of that. He needed to get back to camp, there was his own folks to take care of and business to attend to. Dutch was probably in the middle of some half baked scheme that he concocted to have Arthur lead in, John and Abigail were most likely arguing and needed a mediator, and there was the other women, Hosea, and little Jack.

So was he going to the picnic? It was something he would have to ponder on his way back to camp.

For the preacher’s daughter, things were shifting. Big changes and waves of emotion had shaped her irrevocably since that morning. She sat in the pews, front row like always, but for once she wasn’t really listening to her father’s sermon. She wouldn’t nod along to what he was saying, or open her Bible to turn to the verse and chapter he referred to. Instead, her eyes found a place to gaze over and bore a hole into it with her vision, mind wandering off to Arthur. The only times she was brought back was by her mother, who would gently yet lovingly tap her on the knee, to get her attention, silently gesturing to listen to her father. She would continue her days like normal, but completely enamored by Arthur, what he said, what he did–or lack thereof.

A couple of days later– the annual town picnic had finally reared its vague and complicated head. Typically, the picnic was always an event that she had always been enamored with. She looked forward to it every spring– her hand would be the first to raise when asked about volunteers or who should be in charge of planning the event, but now; the idea of going made uneasiness twist in her stomach. The thought of Arthur being there is all that mattered to her, although with their awkward and incomplete farewell, she didn’t know where she stood in his eyes.

The picnic was a lively affair, with almost the whole town participating in the activities. The crowd gathered outside the church where it was being held, enjoying the food and each other’s company. The warm spring breeze picked up the light atmosphere and covered everyone’s spirits with joy. There was music and dancing and lots of laughter. While the preacher’s daughter was usually the one to be in the crowd, socializing with fellow townsfolk– she found herself dismayed, as she sat on the steps of the church, knees pressed to her chest and a weary look staining her face.

“You gonna eat something dear?” her father’s voice broke her out of her trance, “Your mama made that chicken salad you like.” She sees him getting closer and shakes her head, “I’m not very hungry Papa.” she lays her head on her knees. The preacher walks up to her and observes his daughter, before sighing and sitting next to her. “Want to tell me what’s going on? You barely spoke a word all day, hardly participated on Sunday..”

She sighs and hesitates to say anything before continuing, “Remember how I told you Mr. Morgan stopped by the house the other morning? He found my necklace.”

“Yes, it was kind of him,” Her father blinks and nods, “Is this somehow relevant as to why you've been such a sourpuss lately?”

She opened her mouth but then stopped before she could start her sentence. She realized that if she were to tell him exactly what happened—it meant that she would have to tell him everything that took place in the kitchen that morning—the touching, the lewd remarks, and worst of all— she had her innocent and dainty fingers in some strange man’s mouth. This would most certainly kill her father, so she finds a way around it.

“Well, I feel like I might have offended him and I feel bad about it…that’s all.” she explains, it technically wasn’t a lie, a small pang of relief hitting her chest.

“What could you have possibly said that could offend him, dear?” her father asks, sincere in his words, genuinely wanting to make his daughter feel better. For her, this was the tricky part, trying to find the words without saying anything at all, “I told him he needed to leave…because I had things to do that day.”

Technically a lie, technically the truth. It was a moral dilemma she’d contemplate later.

“Aw, is that it?” he gives her a sympathetic smile, “Oh don’t even fret about it I’m sure he’s alright. Honestly, it says more about him if he took offense to a sweet ol’ thing like you.” He lovingly pinches her cheek and plants a kiss on top of her head, before rising to his feet, “You’ve always had a problem being in your own head too much sweetheart.” She nods in agreement, wanting the conversation to end, “I guess so. Thank you papa.”

A voice calls out to her father, interrupting their conversation. He looks over to the source of where the voice came from. He pats her on the back before walking off to greet more of his congregation that decided to stop by. Maybe her father was right, perhaps she was in her head too much. Of course, her father did not have the context like she did, but this false sense of reassurance passed the time well.

She continues to think about what Arthur said.

“Ever think about a man lovin’ on you baby?”

She is now. Arthur planted the seeds of desire in her, and the roots that grew traveled up her veins and made her heart race. She couldn’t get him out of her head no matter how hard she tried. She looks to the farthest distance she can, wondering what he was doing right now– what he was wearing and what path he was travelling. Far out, she notices a brown figure moving at a rapid pace, her eyes narrow. It’s just a horse– a beautiful one at that; a deep chestnut brown. Her gaze softened as it got closer in view, she noticed the horse had a splash of white on its nose– with a man mounted on top.

Her head lifts from her lap, was that him? It couldn’t be–or it could. She squints a bit harder, waiting for the man to come closer. She leans forward in her lap, eventually standing on the steps. She could recognize that gambler’s hat from anywhere.

It was him, Arthur had come back.

“Mr. Morgan!” she runs to him and looks up at him on his horse, “You made it.” she smiles. He gets off his horse and secures it, “Of course. Why would I not be here? You invited me.” he responds flatly, not caring to make eye contact with her.

She looks down and back up again, “I know but that was before…” she reads his face, pausing an explanation to feel out if he knew what she was implying, “Listen, Mr. Morgan, about the other morning, I–”

“No need darlin’,” he puts his hand out before dropping it to his side, “I understand,” He puts his weight on one hip. “I was planning on headin’ back, and I–uh made it halfway, then I got to thinkin’…” he pauses while scanning her features for a moment, “And I came off a little strong. I realize that now. Didn’t mean to frighten you if I did.” he looks down at his boots, still caked with mud from the rainstorm days ago.

She gingerly touched his hand, “All is forgiven, Mr. Morgan.” He looks up at her under the brim of his hat, and she swears she can see a hint of a smile and a smudge of red grace on his cheek.

So can her horrified father, who had been watching the interaction between the potential lovebirds from a distance the whole time. A worrisome dread sunk in him as he decided to make his presence known. He hurries toward them before calling out,

“Mr. Morgan! That you, son?”

Arthur whips his head back around, “Father! —uh reverend—shit”

“Wrong denomination son” he chuckles, loosening his tie. “I also would appreciate you to refrain from using profanity around my daughter. She’s a impressionable young lady y’know”

“Of course. Sorry, sir.” Arthur flashed a sheepish grin, before realizing he hadn’t shook the preacher’s hand yet. Out of respect he extends his hand, and they lock into a strong handshake. A pang of guilt hit Arthur, here he was shaking the man of the Lord’s hand when not even two days ago he was all over this man’s only daughter, in his own kitchen nonetheless.

“I invited Mr. Morgan to the picnic, figured he might want to visit a little more before he leaves.” she explains, innocently swaying her hips, giving her skirt a little movement as she rocked side to side.

“I can see that dear,” The preacher smiles at his daughter before shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to make friendly conversation. Anything to try and keep Arthur from sweeping his daughter off her feet, “So, how’s that cattle ranch of yours, son?”

Cattle ranch? Oh right, that was the story he pitched the town initially. It was the perfect small lie given the circumstance. The cattle rancher to save the town from cattle thieves, you couldn’t write a better story. “Just fine. Hard work. You know how it is. Cattle can be…temperamental.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He was bombing this and he knew it was over the second the words left his mouth. He grimaced in his mind at the interaction.

“Right,” the preacher drawls the word, trying to detect any honesty in Arthur’s claim, “Well regardless of your business, we’re glad you could join us,” he says, tone friendly but his words having an edge to them.

She smiles, “We got plenty of food why don’t we eat–”

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” her father whips his head to look at her.

She flashes a half smile, “Well I am now, ‘sides I don’t want to be rude and not eat in front of our guest, papa.”

Her father looked between two, he knew exactly what was happening and he didn’t like it one bit. He had no reason to be distrustful of Arthur, after all he did save his town from that reckless gang, but something wasn’t right. Although, to save his beloved daughter from embarrassment, he decided to play along– for now.

The eating and socializing made time fly by, Arthur enjoyed the peaceful and innocent fun with everyone, it made him forget about all his stress and worries for a couple of hours. He smiled along to a song played on a mandolin, he listened to her fill him in on all the local happenings that occurred while he was away, she clung onto his bicep as he won a couple games of dominoes against the shopkeeper, and before either of them knew it– the sun was starting to set. Arthur sat next to her at the picnic table, enjoying the sounds of soft conversations in the distance, but mostly he enjoyed her company. He exhaled deeply and looked over at her, “Let’s take a quick stroll, whaddya say?” She looked back at him, “That sounds lovely, but the sun is setting…I don’t know…”

“And?” He stands up and stretches up as tall as he can, she looks over his huge, broad frame growing taller as he pulls upward, her heart skips a beat at the sight of his muscles moving under his shirt as he shifts around. “You’ll be safe with me, let’s go girl.” he motions with his head and grabs his satchel. His sudden firm tone made her pulse quicken, not fully understanding why she liked it as much as she did.

Eventually, she and Arthur wander off into the path into a nearby trail, enough daylight to see where they were going as well as the beauty of the mountainous region, she looks up at him, his face concentrated on where they were headed.

“So where you takin’ me?” she asks.

“Nowhere in particular, unless you got somethin’ in mind,” he responds as he adjusts the weight of his satchel. She thinks for a moment and a bright smile spreads across her face, “I got an idea, there’s a lake nearby, it’s so beautiful. You’ll love it I promise.”

“Okay, the lake it is then,” he nods. Despite not speaking a word to each other, she smiled to herself that she was finally getting to spend more time with him like she always dreamed of. “Whatcha smilin’ ‘bout?” Arthur’s voice broke the prolonged silence. She shook her head, “Nothin’. Just having fun that’s all.” Arthur smiles back at her, “That reminds me, I almost forgot somethin’,” he stops in his tracks and she follows his lead.

“I know you’re supposed to bring somethin’ for a picnic and I didn’t know what to bring but–,” he reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a can, “hope you like it.”

She grins with playful confusion, “A can of….” she tries to examine the can further, the text on the label rubbed off almost completely, “...peaches?” She walks slowly alongside him, still looking down at the can.

He nods, “You like peaches, hon?” strolling in tandem alongside her.

“Yeah, I like ‘em even better in pies though,” she responds.

“Peach pie?” He raises a brow, “I ain’t ever had that before…apple, yes. But peach? That’s a new one.”

“Oh I gotta make you one then. They’re real easy.” she says before letting a beat of silence encompass them.

She exhales an airy chuckle, “Reminds me of the time when Papa took me to a preacher’s convention in Saint Denis – well more like I begged him to take me– but anyway while I was there I had a peach pie with ice cream. Ice cream of all things, can you believe it?” she grins brightly, “They call it peach a la mode, isn’t that brilliant? Makes me feel sophisticated” she rambles, her hands gesticulating for emphasis.

He scoffs, “So that’s what rich folks are eatin’ huh? They can’t be ok with pie itself they gotta go add ice cream on it too.” he muttered, gesturing broadly as they strolled down the path together. She laughs loudly, “You’re a silly man Mr. Morgan… Ain’t seen a person upset with ice cream before.” He shook his head, he wasn’t trying to make her laugh, but it was like a symphony to his ears.

“Was it good?” His question broke the beat of silence.

“Hm?”

“The peach el mood?” he motions.

She bursts out laughing again, “A la mode? Definitely, it was divine.”

There it was again–he smiles lovingly at the sound of her laugh.

“You might have to make that for me too,” he grins and shoves his hands in his pockets.

The sound of both them walking down to the lake absorbed any beat of silence that could have been there. The crunching of gravel beneath their feet and sound of birds chirping accompanied their walk. Arthur picked up rocks he thought were compelling enough to shove into his jacket pocket. He picks up another rock and fidgets with it, and glances over at her for a second, eyes trailing down to her slightly exposed sternum which cradled that heavenly swan pendant necklace.

“You like swans, huh?” he inquired, throwing the rock like a skipping stone. “Why swans? And not like– I don't know a dove or somethin’.”

“A dove? That’s awfully cliche don’t you think?” she smirks. They finally make it to the lake. Seeing a big tree log that somehow found itself at the base of the lake, they both take a seat there. Arthur shrugs at her previous comment and adjusts next to her.

“I just like ‘em that’s all. Y’know it’s said that swans represent beauty, grace, wisdom. I think it’s a good symbol to look upon. It’s always been quite reassuring to me.” she places the can of peaches she had been holding down onto the ground.

“Ah, so it’s your lucky charm?” he grinned.

She waves him off, “Oh Mr. Morgan, I don’t believe in luck,” she looks out into the lake, “To tell you the truth, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to see a swan in the wild. I’m holdin’ out for hope I’ll get see one.”

“You will someday, I’m sure.” He looked over at her peaceful demeanor, his heart felt so warm just by being in her presence. The realization that all he wanted was to be with her overcame him. As it came, a familiar thick and oily guilt suddenly swallowed him upon the thought that he hadn't been exactly truthful with her. Quite frankly, he was a liar– lied about what he did for a living, lied about the true nature of his arrival 4 years ago, the lies started to collapse on his throat. If he was even to consider a life with her in it, he had to tell her everything– there was no cattle ranch, the only money he had technically didn’t belong to him, he was originally going to rob her town– that he is an outlaw.

He wanted to make this work, he lost so much in his life already that he knew she was an opportunity of genuine love and care. Surely enough, someone so loving and forgiving like her would be able to handle his baggage, right? If not, he was willing to put it all on the line anyway. He rubs his jaw and exhales a breath before speaking.

“Look darlin’, there’s something I need to tell you–”

“--You gotta girl ain’t you?” she interrupts flatly.

He exhales a laugh, “No, I ain’t got a girl. Not for a long time at least,” taken aback by her boldness, he continues to chuckle to himself.

“Why are you laughin’? It’s not that much of an odd assumption to make. You’re handsome and smart and you got that big cattle ranch so it’s not crazy to assume gals wouldn’t be all over you–”

“You think I’m handsome?” he whipped his head to look at her, his cheeks warmed at the compliment, trying to hide the surprise in his voice as he never truly felt comfortable or confident with himself.

“Stop it, you know what I meant,” she blushes, “I’m just sayin’ you’re a catch, that’s all.” He continues to smile at her bashful ramblings, shaking his head at her behavior. A sense of mischief creeps up in his mind, and he couldn’t help but entertain it, “Anyways, why ain’t you married yet? I’d figure some young buck would come sniffin’ ‘round after you as soon as you got to marryin’ age.” he asks, watching her put a hand over her face.

“Very classy Mr. Morgan, you’re a real gentleman,” she groans, resting her head in her hand, “I don’t know. I don’t like any of the men at my church. They’re…stupid.”

“How so? Despite the obvious,” he inquires.

She exhales and tries to think of the words to articulate how she feels, “It seems they want me barefoot and pregnant and that life–” she pauses, “I don’t believe that’s what God intended for me. It’s not my path." She picked up a stick and started tracing patterns on the dirt.

“What’s your path then?” His heart softens at the conviction in her tone.

She hesitates for a moment, scared that he would judge her for passions. He nods at her, “You know you can tell me anythin’ darlin’” he says softly, wanting to know what was in that beautiful mind of hers.

She exhales again, “If I may be so bold– I want to preach,” the tension leaving her body after she confessed, “and I want real love– but I don’t know if I’m the marryin’ kind… I think if I met the right man, I’d marry. But only a man that would let me be free…I don’t think I’ll ever find that Mr. Morgan.”

I could be that. If you allowed me to. He thought to himself, but he was not brave enough to voice it. Instead, he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Ah.” he said softly, before crossing his shin over his thigh.

“You don’t think I can do it huh?” she murmurs, kicking her feet mindlessly against the stump of the tree. His brows furrowed at her accusation, “No I do, I think you can. Hell I met a lot gals who fight for stuff like that,” he gesticulates, “I could picture you doin’ it.” he smiles.

She suddenly remembers what he said at breakfast the other morning: “If I was guaranteed you’d be the one preachin’ then maybe I’d start goin’ to church.”

She grins to herself at the thought, “Hey, if I preach does that means you’ll start comin’ to church.”

Arthur scoffs playfully, “Is that so? Who said anythin’ ‘bout that?”

“You said it yourself at breakfast!” she lets out an airy chuckle.

Arthur shakes his head before leaning in closer to her, “Well…that ain't what I meant by that, so we’re just gon’ have to see. Aren’t we?” he smirks. She looks over his face, blush reddening her ears. The moment was so perfect, he wanted to bask in its tranquility. The opportunity to tell her the truth about his livelihood was fleeting and before he knew it, it was gone. He couldn’t get it back and he hoped that soon he could find another opening. An opening that was perfect and would hurt her the least.

She breaks her gaze and looks down at the can of peaches beside her, “Well, I don’t know about you but I could go for a little sweet.” She leans over to pick up the can. He gazes her over body while she wasn’t looking, staring at the soft curves of her body and before stealing a prolonged glance of her rear, “Yep–somethin’ sweet would be real good right about now,” he hums, trying to hide the growl in the back of his throat. She sits back up again and hands him the can of peaches for him to open. The act of him stabbing the top with his knife and prying it open made her feel warm. He passes the can back to her, letting her have the first bite. She scoops a piece up and crams it into her mouth before the juice drips on her dress.

“Mmph, really good!” she exclaims while still chewing, “Where did you get these–” his hand cuts off her sentence as he wipes away a small droplet of juice from the corner of her mouth. She stops immediately, gazing back at him. A pang of excitement reverberates in the pit of her stomach. It was biscuits and gravy on Sunday all over again.

He smiles softly back at her without a second thought, before taking a piece of the fruit out for himself. She watches him eat the slice of peach, briefly sucking the excess juice off his fingers. So messy and desperate–something about watching him eat like a feral animal sparked a need in her so deep that she abruptly whips her head away just to attempt to hide it.

Although, these were not new feelings she was having: not before he filled her imagination with salacious ideas, not before he lovingly stroked her chin or accompanied her to the picnic– it started just before breakfast on Sunday morning, with her finger in his mouth. Although Arthur was no fool–oh the contrary, he could hone in on this like a falcon. The memory of her fingers in his mouth would plague him at all times. He decides it was ultimately time to break the tension.

“Honey you can’t tell me that having your fingers in my mouth ain’t done something to you. You haven’t been able to look at me the same since,” a growl in his voice reverberates in him, trying to keep his urges in line.

“What?” she swallows thickly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yes you do. Don’t be coy.” He places the can next to him and turns his body toward her, “I know that’s how you was raised– to be ashamed of it. But you can’t go denyin’ these feelings forever.”

“It’s not like that…I’m not ashamed. I-I’m not.” she stammers. Arthur frowns, he can see right through her walls.

“Then why’re you always shakin’ like a damn near leaf whenever I get ‘round you?” he questions.

“I don’t know.” She murmurs, her shoulders going limp in defeat. He gazes back at her wilted expression before reaching out and gently cradling her hand, “Y’know darlin...people lovin’ on each other, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” softly tracing patterns on the back of her palm, “It’s beautiful, really.” She gazes up into his eyes, her heart rate picking up at the sight of him being so close to her. He scans her face before glancing down at her slightly parted lips.

“Mr. Morgan?” she whispers.

“Mhm?”

“Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Do you want me to, baby?” He whispers back.

She stares up into his eyes and nods ever so softly. A genuine and loving smile spreads across his face. He inhales gently, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As he gently cups her jaw in his right hand, he leans down, and before he realizes, she instinctively turns her head away. “I’m scared” her voice barely above a murmur, “ain’t never done this before.”

He couldn’t deny that the idea of being her first kiss made his pulse quicken, and as guilty as he felt, he also couldn’t deny her naivety turned him on beyond belief. Of course, part of him also felt bad for being her first kiss. He thought to himself that she deserved a better man, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted this just as bad as she did.

“Well what do you know ‘bout it?” He strokes her hair gently.

“Nothin’ much…just what I've read in those dime store romance novels.” she murmurs, somewhat embarrassed at her inexperience. He tenderly strokes her cheek with his thumb, “Shh it’s okay sweetheart. Just relax and let me lead– can you do that for me?” he whispers lovingly.

She nods and instinctively closes her eyes, he tilts her head up and leans in to press a warm and tender kiss on her lips– even softer than he ever imagined them to be. He kisses her again, and again, before pausing and gazing lovingly into her eyes. He wishes he could live in this moment forever, “You okay so far?” He murmurs against her lips, softly nodding at her, she nods back. The mix of her orange and vanilla perfume catching in the slightly smoky and chill dusk air is intoxicating to him.

He leans back down he kisses her again, but this one was different. It was longer and deeper than the one from before, he deepened the kiss even further for a moment, working his fingers through her hair. Both of their heartbeats rise in tandem, she leans against his chest and places a hand on his thick thigh, trying to find balance against him. Something that could be acquainted with electricity pulses in her stomach, never truly realizing a sensation could feel so good. His tongue grazes her lip and she softly gasps at the feeling. Surely the taste of his lips would sear into her mouth for eternity, smoky and something that was attributed to only him. His lips still sweetened from the nectar of the peaches they consumed together, now all she wanted was to consume him.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers, panting softly. “Arthur,” she exhales gently, her breath fanning his neck. The ease of his first name leaving her tongue made goosebumps rise on the back of his neck and arms. His hands still tangled in her hair, making their way down to rest on her shoulders, “My sweet babydoll, so so perfect.” he whispers.

He plants a soft yet firm kiss on her cheek and back to her lips again. She sinks into his arms. She feels so safe yet, a sensation akin to lead creeps in and weighs her soul, an anchor of remorse that makes her stomach drop. Without second thought, she pulls away from the kiss and cries. Fear spikes in Arthur’s chest at the sight of tears rolling off her supple cheeks, “Oh no no no baby, what happened? Did I do something wrong?” he panics, terrified he hurt her or crossed a boundary he wasn’t aware of.

It truly wasn’t anything he did, she really didn’t know why she was crying. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed with feelings and emotions that she didn’t know how or what to do with. The way he gently cared for comfort and boundaries touched her beyond words or actions, she never felt so loved by another man before. Was this love that she was feeling? She didn’t know what to make of it all– and it scared the hell out of her.

“No…I don’t think so…W-we shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” her lip continues to quiver and tears roll down and drop into her lap. His heart twists in chest at her words, his mouth partly open from bewilderment, “Stop it. You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, “Tell me what’s going on darlin’.”

She cries again and the sight chisels away at his heart, “I-I don’t know…you did nothin wrong. I just ain’t ever felt like this before,” she reaches up to fidget with her swan pendant necklace once more. He knew exactly what was going on. She was touch starved-- it was years of pent up and repressed romantic desire that was finally boiling over– for the first time in her life, she was finally starting to learn how to love romantically.

He gives her another sympathetic smile and pulls her into his big arms, “S’okay angel, ain’t no shame in what we did,” he breathes. “It’s all new, I got it. We’ll go slower.” After a moment, she stops crying and pulls away, feeling a bit embarrassed. He can see the crimson spread across her cheeks, “I’m sorry Arthur. I don’t know what came over me.” 

He shakes his head and strokes her hair, “Don’t worry ‘bout it baby, I was just scared I did somethin’ wrong,” he pauses, “or you didn’t like it.” Her eyes widen in realization, “Oh, no not at all! I liked it a lot…maybe too much.” she softly responds, her words carry an edge of caution.

“Yeah?” he smiles, tongue darting out just enough to wet his bottom lip. She nods in return, whispering a ‘thank you’ before giving him small kiss on the cheek to reinforce it.

She looks up at the sky, the sun finally tucking itself behind the mountain, “We need to get back to the picnic now. My parents are probably waitin’ for me,” she stands and fixes her dress.

Arthur nods and rises to his feet. “I’ll walk you back, hm?”

She nods and waits for him, "Arthur?"

He perks up at his name as he starts to walk with her, she looks down at her feet, "Once again, I'm really sorry I cried.” she replies softly, feeling humiliated by her reaction, "I really do like your company."

“No need to apologize, I got you girl," his big hand cradles the small of her back as they walk back to the church together, " 'Sides, we got plenty time to practice anyway. Get you more comfortable." He grins. She smiles at the thought, deciding to fill the silence again with small talk.

“Wasn’t the lake beautiful?” she asks.

“Y’know I couldn’t see it too well. Got distracted by somethin’ else.” he smiles to himself.

The sun had set by the time they got back, the picnic had been over for a while now, and there was no one in the church. So Arthur decided to walk her back to her house. He didn’t realize that they were gone for that long– his stomach dropped when they finally arrived at her home, seeing the preacher, sitting on his porch whilst rocking back and forth in his rocking chair. He and Arthur share a look, before he springs up at the sight of the two. He makes his way down the porch steps.

“Papa we–”

“Get in the house young lady.” he ordered firmly yet calmly.

“Papa please don’t be mad we were just walking around and–”

“I’m not…mad...just do what I say and go inside.”

She looks up at Arthur and nods before scurrying away, mouthing a goodbye to him as her boots clunked against the porch steps. Arthur’s blood pressure rises as he tries to de-escalate the situation, “I ain’t mean no harm sir– we really was just walkin’ and talkin’.”

The preacher shook his head in disapproval, “Y’know, I’m really disappointed in you son. See, I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you had pure intentions here– especially with my only daughter around, but I guess I was a fool.” Arthur glares under the brim of his gambler’s hat, narrowing his eyes at the preacher, “What you mean by that exactly?”

“Don’t play dumb, boy…I see the way you been lookin’ at her.” he says with an accusatory tone. Arthur cocks his head to the side, “And what way is that?” he responds, feigning innocence.

The preacher shakes his head and breathes a humorless chuckle in disbelief of Arthur’s pretend innocence, “--Like a dog licking its chops for a bite of somethin’ he shouldn’t have.”

Ah. Of course…

Arthur exhales a chuckle, “Well sir– If I was, I would have already taken a bite by now, if that’s what you’re implyin’.” he smirks and pats him on the shoulder twice, before walking off. The statement makes the preacher’s blood boil, “I ain’t stupid! I been your age before! You stay away from her, you hear me boy?!” he calls out to Arthur.

He whips his head around and saunters back to the preacher, “Y’know your lil girl ain’t gonna be yours forever. She’s a beautiful young woman and men are lookin’ at her different now,” he leans in closer, “Now you got a decision to make. ‘Cause one of these days some man is gon’ come along for her, and I can bet you anythin’ he’s gon’ be worse than me,” there’s an edge to Arthur’s voice that alerts the preacher, but he would never give Arthur the satisfaction of seeing him buckle. He stares blankly back at him.

Arthur nods slowly, “You can think about that when you say your prayers tonight,” he turns to walk away, looking to the right of him to catch a glimpse of her bedroom window, hoping to see her one last time. He chuckles to himself, before calling back to her father.

“'Night, preacher man.”

thank u for reading thus far !!! once again thank u for all the support it means the world. taglist is currently open so lemme know if u wanna be added <3

taglist 🏷️ @dilf-luvr-4evr @joelsprettyprincess @i-will-give-you-love @necktattooed

[sst4rdst]

Just wondering how would yan xiao react when finding out his darling is immortal? Like they have an ability to hide it but accidentally let it slip and he catches wind(pun not intended lol) of it while stalking them?

warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, stalking. author's note : it was really fun to think about what would xiao be overthinking of reader! now his enemy isn't humanity, but immortality itself lol

it was a mistake. a single, fleeting moment of carelessness—an offhand remark, a misplaced reaction, a wound that should have festered but barely bled. you should have noticed the way his gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable, how his movements slowed as if processing something wrong, something impossible. but you were too distracted, too caught up in whatever mundane task you had been doing to see the shift in him.

now, in the dead of night, you feel it—the weight of a presence just beyond your reach, pressing against the edges of your awareness like a blade against skin. someone’s watching.

xiao had always watched you, a silent shadow lurking at the periphery of your life, his presence subtle yet inescapable. at first, it had been an act of protection. or at least, that’s what he told himself. you were fragile, human, at the mercy of a world that did not care for your existence. he was simply ensuring your safety, ensuring that no harm would come to you. but over time, that justification had unraveled, thread by thread, until all that remained was a raw, insatiable need—one he could neither name nor deny.

he knew your routines. knew how you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was listening, how you chewed your lip when you were lost in thought, how your fingers curled ever so slightly when you were on the verge of sleep. he knew everything.

or so he thought.

tonight, the revelation sinks into him like a sickness, twisting in his gut, burning behind his ribs. you are not human.

he replays it over and over in his mind, searching for the flaw in his memory, for proof that he had misheard, miscalculated. but no—there is no mistake, no illusion to blame. you had healed too quickly. you had spoken too casually of a time long before you should have been born. you had let the truth slip through the cracks of your carefully crafted facade, never once considering that someone was listening.

and now, xiao cannot stop thinking about it.

how long have you walked this earth? how many lifetimes have you seen? how many people have you let close, only to watch them wither and fade while you remained unchanged?

the thoughts are unbearable, a festering wound in the deepest part of him. xiao had always lived with the certainty that mortality would take you from him one day—that no matter how fiercely he fought against it, time itself would be the enemy he could never defeat. he had resigned himself to the agony of losing you, to the inevitability of your absence, to the knowledge that no matter how tightly he held onto you, you would slip through his fingers in the end.

but this—this is something else entirely.

you will not wither. you will not break. you will not be taken from him by the cruel passage of time. and yet, that does not bring him relief.

because now he wonders—if you have lived for so long, if you have endured ages upon ages without him, then what is he to you? a passing moment? a temporary distraction? a fleeting indulgence before you move on, just as you have moved on from countless others?

the thought sends a violent shudder through him. no. he will not be just another name lost in the eternity of your existence. he will not be reduced to a mere memory, forgotten as easily as a dream upon waking.

you do not know that he is here. you do not know that your secret is no longer yours alone to keep. you do not know how deeply he is unraveling, how close he is to reach out, to wrap himself around you, to ensure that you never leave, never stray, never forget him.

for the first time, xiao is not afraid of losing you to death. now, he fears losing you to eternity. and he will not allow it.

[solbaby7]

someone requested [ Manhattan + salt rim + neat ] and I accidentally deleted it but i remembered!!

warnings: leashes (yup like for dogs 🤭) minors dni, thank you thank you thank you thank you for this request 🥵

—

Azriel knew it was going to be an issue—you spending so much time with Nesta Archeron.

He’d found it cute at first. His sweet girl making friends with someone as prickly as death incarnate, until he’d started noticing the changes. How kind words shift into a biting wit; adopting a darker kind of humor that leaves his brows raised and tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “Come bunny, it’s time to get out of bed.”

Perhaps it’s in that learned behavior where you find the gall to part your lips and mutter, “No, I’m not going.”

It’s surprising—your defiance. Enough for him to pause in the middle of his morning routine, thigh holsters half buckled with an array of sharpened daggers and switchblades laid out before him. “Say that again?”

“To training,” You elaborate, mindlessly toying with the fraying edges of your nail varnish. Soft sheets swallow you whole, thick pillows and duvets emitting Azriel’s comforting scent all around you. “I’m not going today.”

For only a second he falters before his movements start up again, deft fingers easily buckling strips of leather and filling the slots with weapons. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t want to sweat under the burning sun all fucking day.” Your eyes are too busy rolling at the thought to notice the tick of Azriel’s jaw, the strained way he tightens his belt. “Nes and I are going shopping after brunch instead.”

“Oh?” There’s a pause, a tense silence that forces you to lean up on your elbows, neck craning to peer over at the Illyrian. Though, Azriel’s not getting ready anymore and he’s lounging too comfortably for someone who’d been adamant on following the guidelines of his rigorous schedule. The clock tick, tick, ticks away and for some reason he’s not reaching for his top or the crossbody holsters he slides on after. His hair is still dripping wet from his shower, not even bothering to work his styling pomade through. “Says who?”

He just sits there—watching, waiting. Staring at you like one of the prisoners he chains up in his dungeons; prodding at the barriers of their restraint until the spymaster tore it to shreds. You hate how well it works, chipping away at the fortified walls you’d built in your new friendships. How easily Azriel’s able to walk up to those borders and send them crumbling down with nothing more than a look.

It should be embarrassing, the affect he has on you. The way one arched brow has your spine instinctively straightening, throat rolling with a swallow as you struggle to muster up the same confidence that burned through you just moments ago. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

Azriel hums low in his chest, shoulders relaxing and head nodding once, twice, three times before that stoic expression melts into understanding. “I see, that’s probably my fault. Got a touch lenient—allowed room for a little too much…hope.”

“Hope?”

Alarm bells begin ringing the further he settles in the chair, thick thighs spreading wide and veiny forearms eat up the space along the armrest. “Hope,” he agrees. “Give a good pet a little too much freedom—too much hope and all the necessary structure begins to waver.” You’re caught like a fly in a trap, limbs sticking to the carefully spun webs Az’s woven until your struggle only leaves the metaphorical ropes twisting and knotting tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m a good trainer. Won’t let you slack for a second—even if you do bat those pretty lashes up at me.”

Your mouth goes dry when his wrist flicks, two fingers beckoning you closer in silent command. A part of you hesitates; resists the rigorous discipline and rules put in place to keep you safe. Protected. But Nesta said that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself without some overgrown bat looming over your shoulder. Right?

You obey anyway, praying that Azriel doesn’t hold the contemplation against you.

The Mother doesn’t seem to hear your plea, too occupied with more deserving persons to spare a second glance at the predicament you’d weaseled your way into. Each step closer feels like knowing wrong and choosing the sin anyway, solidifying your fate and dealing your destiny with the devil for all time. “Sit.”

A huffy breath of irritation before you ease down to your knees, leaning your weight back against your calves. “I’m not some fucking dog.”

“No, you aren’t,” His hand smells of body wash when a thumb runs over the curve of your cheek, blunt nail tracing against the shape of your mouth. It’s almost sweet, toeing the line of possibly romantic when you hear it—the squeaky strain of fresh leather. The cool bite of the latch registers too late, a metallic click locking it in place. “But lately you’ve been acting like one. My rabid mutt.”

Manicured nails grip at the newest accessory but it doesn’t budge no matter how much you tug at it. Your cheeks flame, a mix of fury and pure embarrassment from the rush of arousal that soils your panties when each breath grows just a bit labored. “You fucking collared me?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll buy a muzzle to match.” He catches on to the way your thighs clench together, lips snapping shut as your brain fights to decide whether you want to scream back a “fuck you” or “fuck me”.

You land somewhere in the middle, words stern but tone leaking with curiosity. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A hellish grin splits across the handsome lines of his face, like a wolf straining in the seams of sheep’s clothing. “Try me.” He’s lost the concept to time when such fun prey has found itself stuck in his crosshairs. Such a sweet lamb should know better than to wander away from its shepherd—heaven forbid something should happen to you. “Test me, I dare you. I’ll walk you through town like some purebred if you keep acting like you weren’t taught to act with decorum.”

He means it too. You know he does. Even after all these years, you still had yet to hear words Azriel’s didn’t back up with action. Instantly, your eyes lower, head bowing in order to conceal the pinpricked pupils that dialate with desire. It burns in your belly, a cacophony of fantasies lashing against your eyelids at warp speed.

You in your shiny collar, name engraved on the customized nameplate with Azriel’s information on the back right under “If Found, Return To”

It’s purely involuntary, the desperate whimper that cuts through the bedchambers and Azriel pats at your head like some pampered pup in need of comfort. Offering love and fond coos when you easily correct the behaviors he doesn’t enjoy.

Obedient. Disciplined. Loyal. His.

“There’s a good girl. Keep that up and I’ll give you a treat.”

[lady-z-writes]

Distraction

Billy Butcher x reader

In which Butcher returns in a rage and needs you to take his mind off it.

Cw: smut (18+), masturbation, fingering, sex, oral, hair pulling, choking.

You hadn't planned on staying so late, but you'd gotten caught up in a podcast, enjoyed the silence of the empty space between the words.

A loud slam startles you. You're instantly on high alert, popping an ear bud out, holding your breath, realizing - damn it - it's 6pm already. The setting sun peeking through the window blinding you momentarily as you rise, you hear more slamming.

As you glance toward the door, there's the familiar cussing of Butcher. You can't help but heave a relieved breath. At least it wasn't a supe.

It's stupid of you, really, but you approach. Tentative. Anxious.

You say nothing when he meets eyes with you.

"What're you still doin' 'ere? It's late." His voice is almost a growl.

"I know. Wasn't paying attention."

He shoots you a look. "See? That's a problem, luv. You're distracted." He seems to get more angry as he thinks about it.

Before he can say anything else, his phone is going off and he glances down to read a message.

Rage overtakes him again. You think he's going to toss his phone at the wall, but he pockets it and slams a file folder on the desk beside him.

He runs his hands down his face.

You step closer, wanting to fix it; you're always wanting to fix it.

"This ain't somethin' you can fix, duchess," he mutters quietly, instantly reading you.

"Let me try."

He's about to say something, but instead he shakes his head, his boots sounding as he closes the distance between you.

And then he's kissing you so suddenly, you can't help but gasp. Moments - mere moments and you're catching up, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he hoists you in his arms.

The kissing turns into you pawing at each other on the couch, to you grinding against his thigh only to feel his phone there, the thing vibrating with a text again and you startling. Butcher lets out a, "don't go givin' me ideas" when he hears you moan.

And before you know it, you're on your knees before his widespread legs, his cock out, his big hand stroking it. He makes you beg before he lets you put your mouth on him.

"Mmm, 'at's a good girl, takin' all of me."

Fingers wrap in your hair, he pulls any time you deepthroat him. You're wet from this, soaking your panties - hoping he'll treat you to some part of him after this; his hands, his mouth, his fingers - you'd thank him for any.

The anger sheds from him; turns into need. You do a good job of distracting him from whatever it was.

Butcher isn't loud, but he lets you know what he likes. He's grabby; touching you anywhere he can. And he's chatty - the filthy things coming from his mouth make you heated.

One hand pumping his cock as you suck him off, your other hand trails between your legs. You're clothed so it's not providing any real relief on your clit, but it feels good.

When Butcher sees, he's taunting you. "Ohh such a sneaky thing you are. Those dainty fingers ain't got half the tricks I do. You thinkin' about them? Thinking of my meaty fucking hand cupped around your pretty fucking cunt?"

Another deep throat. He yanks your hair as you stroke his balls.

You linger there, down on his cock, tongue pressing against the underside of him, his vein pulsing, your hand gentle on his balls. As you come up for one more go, he's forcing you back down and you're almost choking. He cums without warning and you do your best to swallow him down.

Moments pass. He's got you sprawled across the desk in seconds.

When he undresses you, you're arching toward him, eager to kiss him again, but he's biting his way down your body, marking up your thighs in his travel to your center.

He's pocketed your panties. He would.

You're about to comment when his mouth finds your clit and he's sucking. You cry out, surprised when a finger plays with your wetness, slips inside of you, arches just right. You're saying his name like a hymn and he hasn't done anything yet, not really.

You want to ask for more, but he's way ahead of you: inserting another finger, working up the speed. You're blissed out already. He matches the pace with his mouth.

The groans he lets out shoot vibrations right through you and you're embarrassed at how fast you cum for him.

He keeps up pace, doesn't falter a second.

When you hear a, "fuuuuck you're fun," you're tempted to offer all of you to him - but he's way ahead of you.

You hear his pants hit the floor, feel his mouth leaving you.

"What say you, we have a bit of a go then?"

You pant out a, "please" and he's slipping his fingers out of you.

You pull him close before he's expecting it, kiss him harshly. Billy tries to push you back down, but you put up a fight, shoving his arms away so you can keep kissing him.

He lets out a growl when you bite his neck in the scuffle.

Of course, he ultimately wins and pins you against the desk. He wastes no time angling your hips and lining himself up with your entrance. A few strokes of his cock against your wetness and he's pushing inside of you.

He pauses until you're comfortable but that's the only kindness he gives you. His pace is unrelenting; you can feel his desperation. It doesn't stop his fingers from pressing against your clit and making you cum again.

"'At's right, cum on my cock, love. So good how you squeeze me."

He chokes you and you realize you like it. The feel of his big hand on your throat, holding you in a way that's between care and desperation. He knows what he's doing - knows just when to let go; like he's testing you.

You have no control. He's completely consuming you. It's freeing, almost.

Another orgasm later and you're pretty sure you're seeing stars. When he demands another, you tell him you can't; you've never.

"You will," he growls.

And he's right.

You cum again. He's so overwhelmed by the feel of you, he almost spills inside. A drop of cum plops on the floor before he's stroking himself over you, painting your belly with his cum.

It's filthy and arousing all at once.

You want more of him.

And he can read it all over your face.

"Ah, such a pretty fuckin sight you are; all painted up for me. Fucking gorgeous."

You almost assume he'll leave you like this, but as you lie there catching your breath, you feel a cloth wiping softly against your skin.

Hm. Billy and aftercare. Who knew?

"Come home with me, love?" It's quiet, the deep rumble of his voice.

And you're so damn eager to say yes but you catch your breath, nod up at him, feel the intimacy of this moment; feel raw and real for once in your time knowing Butcher.

You manage out, "Anything for you" and watch the emotion dance across his face.

[ayyy-pee]

Center Stage

suguru whimpers as he pounds into you, folds your legs until there’s a knee on each side of your head. you're so good he has to bite back a gasp when your walls squeeze down on him, gripping his cock so fucking hard he sees stars. his eyes roll back when he reaches a hand down to your clit, swollen and sensitive and he feels the sudden gush of your arousal drip down between your bodies. suguru loves how your tight little cunt always takes him so well, how it makes room for him and holds him like it never wants to let go.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, every slap of your skin meeting has suguru leaning down to groan into the crook of your neck. he doesn’t let up, pounding into you like a man possessed. and he is. your pussy makes him insane, makes him want to scream, makes him want to fucking cry.

it feels like heaven in your walls.

suguru loves to look between you, where your bodies connect and see the creamy mess you’ve made on him. fuck he loves how your pussy always makes a mess. it’s one of his favorite things about you.

that and the way your lips part when he pistons his hips a certain way, touches that sweet spot you love. how your head falls back and your back arches when he wraps his thick fingers around your neck, makes you hold his weight as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. the way your little moans fall from that pretty mouth he loves to bury his cock in. he loves all of that.

he loves the way your hands find his hair and you pull. not gentle at all, just the way he likes. you’re as a desperate and fucking needy as he is.

“come on baby. tell me how much you love my cock.” he pleads. he knows you love it. you've told him plenty of times. but suguru also loves to get his ego stroked.

“i love it, ah- fuck, fuck i love your cock!” you whimper beneath him like the good girl you always are. all he ever has to do is ask and you’ll deliver every time. so obedient. it’s why you’re his favorite.

suguru can feel your walls softly convulsing around him. you’re so close. but while your words were good, they’re weren’t good enough. so suguru slows his pace, staring down at you with half lidded eyes. he wants you to do it right.

“pretty girl forgot her manners,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “i love your cock, what?”

he bottoms out with a particularly harsh thrust that has you crying out, your fingers tightening in his tresses and he chuckles, his dick twitching within the confines of your cunt.

“oh fuck! i love your cock master geto”

there it is.

you peer up through your lashes at the man above you and the smug smile on suguru’s lips sends you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm rushing over you, your body shivering as wave after wave hits you. and your sweet lips muttering his formal title, it has him burying his face in your neck again, whining as his hips stutter with every sloppy thrust until his balls tighten.

he grips your thigh hard, high pitched whimpers falling freely from his mouth as his cock stiffens and his hot, white seed fills your twitching pussy. the release has suguru shaking, struggling to hold his weight as your pussy milks him of every fucking drop.

you’re both panting, both catching your breath as suguru kisses you desperately, pressing kisses to your face, to your lips. and he’s still cumming

“m-master geto,” you mutter between kisses. he hasn’t pulled out of you, just keeps rolling his hips into your slowly, softly as he continues to litter your lips and face with kisses.

suguru hums in acknowledgment.

“you’ll be late to session tonight,” you warn him. “you know there will be big donors there. you don’t want to be late.”

ah yes, the work never stops for suguru. he would love to stay here, on the floor of his stage but it wouldn’t be a good look to have his donors and worshippers walk in on you both in the middle of such a salacious act.

and you, his most favorite follower. there's no way in hell allow anyone to leave the room alive if they saw you this way. no, you're meant to be seen by him this way and him alone. even with your current situation, he knows you are loyal to him. so with a hiss, suguru pulls out of you, smirking when he sees the way you pout at the loss of fullness.

cute.

“come and see me after session” he tells you with one last press of his lips to yours. he crawls off of you carefully and fixes his robe. you nod, watching as he exits the room.

he knows where to find you.

suguru always finds you the moment he enters the room, packed with worshippers ready to give themselves to him. and you’re among them, loyal as ever to him, even as you bow politely and pledge yourself to the organization alongside your husband.

[stellar-haikyuu]

rhythm of the game ☆ kita shinsuke x reader

synopsis: you have always admired kita from afar, but never had a reason to talk to him—until now. details: fluff | ~1.2k words | third-year inarizaki band leader, gn! reader | relationship leading towards romantic

Doing one last run through your lists and music sheets, you excuse yourself from the band room to search for the volleyball team’s new captain.

Semestral planning and club application season have kept you and the other third years busy over the summer break. With the myriad of teams that Inarizaki’s orchestra band plays for, you’ve also had to coordinate and schedule meetings with them.

Naturally, your band conductor—who happens to be your best friend—immediately assigned you to the volleyball team. 

“If you’re lucky, you might see him again,” she had teased, a knowing look in her eye. You heart fluttered a little at the possibility of seeing your crush. It’s been a while. 

When you walk into the gym, you’re hit with some sense of comfort. The gym has felt like your third home for the past three years. The band practice room claims second place, of course.

As always, the Miya twins are off in a corner bickering about something. A few other team members surround them, either entertained or concerned. Suna, without fail, is documenting everything.

You look around for the coaches, but they are nowhere to be found.

Looks like I’ve gotta ask the members myself.

But before you approach them, a glimpse of white, fluffy hair in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

Make no mistake, it’s Kita Shinsuke who enters the gym. He pauses mid-step, noticing the commotion.

You wonder what he’s going to do next, but then his eyes lock onto yours.

Woah.

Many have shared how incredibly unnerving it is to be under Kita’s direct gaze. It’s like a quiet force that measures you in an instant.

You’ve heard the whispers from the team members themselves—how his eyes seem to say everything before he opens his mouth. 

The intensity of his deep, brown irises catch you off guard, but they’re not as terrifying as everyone says. In fact, something changes as the seconds pass by. You don’t know if you’re imagining it, but his eyes seem to soften.

“Good afternoon,” he greets you with a perfect bow. 

You snap out of your trance to return the gesture. “Good afternoon, Kita-san!” Before you introduce yourself, he surprises you.

“You’re the band leader this year, right?”

How did he know?

“Y-yeah.” You stammer. Your interactions with him have been limited to fleeting glances and short nods. The extended attention leaves you a little flustered.

“Well, congratulations,” he says, a small grin lighting up his face. “You deserve it, after all yer hard work.”

He smiled at me. He congratulated me. Hard work? Has he been watching? Why is he telling-

You realize you’ve been staring for a bit too long.

“Th-thanks, Kita-san,” your voice shakes a little, almost revealing your internal giddiness. “Means a lot.”

Just then, you notice the number on his jersey.

Number 1. 

The captain’s mark.

A gasp escapes before you can stop it.

“Is somethin’ the matter-”

“You!” You look up at him again, pointing at his shirt.

Kita’s eyes widen a little. You’ve never seen that expression on his face before, but you don’t blame him; even your sudden exclamation takes you aback.

“It’s- you’re the captain this year?”

“I…I am,” Kita’s composure falters for a moment.

“Oh my goodness, really?” Your excitement bubbles over, unable to remain contained.

“Ya seem real…happy about it.” He notes, eyebrows lifting.

“‘Course I am!” You beam at him. “I’ve always seen how good ya play, even if it’s practice. You’re so reliable, on and off the court.”

You see him open his mouth to respond, but you can’t help yourself from continuing.

“Dunno if this makes sense, but you keep the rhythm of the game going. You know exactly how to keep yer members in check. It’s just- I’ve always thought ya were the perfect choice. Like you deserve it, y’know?”

When you finish rambling, a deafening silence hits. You glance around to see that the entire gym has gone still. 

The twins are literally frozen mid-argument, Atsumu’s collar clenched in Osamu’s grip. The rest of the team, even the coaches—who’ve somehow appeared unnoticed—are staring.

Suna’s even pointing the camera at you and Kita.

Oh my god.

You look back at him, heat creeping up your neck. “Ah. Sorry, Kita-san. I may have overdone it. But, uh, what I meant to say was, congrats.”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and for the first time since you’ve known him, Kita Shinsuke lets out a laugh. Soft and warm.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Your cheeks burn, trying to ignore the weight of everyone’s stares.

Somehow, Kita reads your mind.

“Alright, everyone, please start your warm ups,” he addresses the team. “Suna, please put the phone away.”

Immediately, all heads turn the other way, the Miya twins’ argument seemingly forgotten. Suna begrudgingly shoves his phone back into his pocket as footsteps start to echo around the gym.

“Thanks,” you exhale, grateful for the reprieve. 

“So, what brings you here today?” Kita inquires and you nearly facepalm.

“Ah.” You pause to clear your throat. “Came to ask about the new captain, but I guess I figured that out on my own.”

The corners of Kita’s eyes crinkle slightly. “Looks like it.”

“Yeah.” You huff in amusement before continuing. “Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads up. The band will be comin’ by next week to observe practice. The newbies need to get a feel of the game.”

He hums in approval. “Sounds good. I appreciate the effort you all put into it.”

“Thanks.” You lower your voice. “We’ve also gotta prep for Atsumu’s background music request during his serves.”

Kita sighs with a hint of fond exasperation. “He’s been talkin’ about that for weeks while practicing his jump floaters. Hope it’s not too much trouble.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s kinda fun. Boosts morale, anyway.”

“Alright.” He nods thoughtfully. “As long as you say so.”

Before the conversation ends, an idea pops into your head.

“Wait, Kita-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want a theme too? For your serves?”

Kita looks genuinely startled, like a deer caught in the headlights. You think it’s kinda cute.

“Me? I don’t think I need one.”

You shake your head insistently. “Aw, come on! You do pinch servin’ right?”

“Yes, but, I’m sure you already have a lot on your plate. I don’t want to stress you out.”

“Kita-san,” you say his name firmly. “I wanna score it.” 

The absolute conviction in your voice causes a silence to settle between you both. You wonder if you’ve broken him.

“I’m- no, we’re here to back you up.”

When did I get this bold?

You can hear your heart beating in your ears as you wait for his response.

“You’re sure?” His voice wavers a little, but you pretend not to notice.

“Yeah. Promise.”

Kita holds your gaze, and for a moment, neither of you can look away. 

Then, slowly, his lips curve into a smile that feels like staring at the sunrise.

“Alright,” he replies with a lighter tone. “I’m sure you’ll come up with somethin’ great.”

The corners of your mouth instinctively tug upward as he continues.

“Besides, I’m not the only one here who keeps the rhythm of the game goin'.”

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