#plaster your walls with whatever your heart desires

[edenfire]

just a reminder that my print flash sale is still going on for the rest of today!!💞💞 (and maybe a bit of tomorrow if I'm a slacker)

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Asylum Spider]

A/N: This feels a little bit strange to post. It's an older OC (the drawing I used is like 3 years old) I had for a horror manga. I thought it would make a good yandere if you're into actual monsters. And the atmosphere is a lot like an indie horror rpg. :)

You wake up in a damp, dark room with no recollection of how you ended up here. Hovering above you is a repugnant beast whose appearance terrifies you into silence. Yet it doesn’t attack you. Quite the opposite, it seems to want to guide you outside. You must escape quickly, as whatever lurks above causes the creature to squirm in fear. Yet as departure approaches, a desire blooms within its ancient heart: must you really leave it behind?

TW: Monsters, horror, implied violence/abuse

Your vision is blurry and your head is throbbing with a harrowing, unbearable headache. You've been awakened from your unexplainable slumber by cold yet burning drops of liquid hitting your cheek at irregular intervals. You squint and try to focus on whatever lies before you. Slowly, the object becomes sharper and your eyes widen in terror. Drooling above you, a monstrosity. It looks almost human. Sharp, curved teeth are grotesquely gawking their way out. The skin is discolored, similar to the blueish tint of someone struck by hypothermia. The creature seems to be wearing a strange sort of straight jacket, tightly securing the arms and ending in a shredded rag, dangling between the skinny, crooked legs. Yet the most disturbing feature are the massive arthropod appendages that fan out from behind, suspending the abomination above ground.

The ridiculous, offensive sight drains the blood from your face and you hold your breath. You wait for the final blow that never arrives. It lowers its head and inhales deeply, trying to detect if you're still alive. Satisfied with the answer, it scurries aside and leaves you enough space to lift yourself up. The wide smile remains plastered on its face, making it look like a deformed mannequin. With nothing left to lose, you decide to risk it. "Can you talk?" you mumble, unsure about the potential response. It shakes its head in denial and you raise your eyebrows. So it can understand human speech.

You stand up and look around. There's a pungent smell irritating your nostrils, and large pipes slither their way over walls and ceilings in a maze of rusted metal. The floor is flooded and your ankles are sunken in murky water. Above the only door hangs an old plaque, eaten by mold and age. "W∎ter & Drain∎∎∎: Pro∎∎rty of ∎∎∎∎∎ Asylum". Ah. This must be the sewers, then. How did you even end up in the sewers of an asylum? Maybe someone upstairs can provide you with answers. You turn to the creature that has been obediently observing you.

"Can you take me to the main building?"

The humanoid spider screeches and trashes its appendages across the water. You jolt and step back instinctively. Is it mad? Have you upset it somehow? No, if anything, it looks afraid. You stare at its bizarre convulsions until it occurs to you the movements aren't quite as erratic as you assumed. It is drawing something using a swamped patch of ground.

Don't let find you Get out

You're choking with dread again. The ominous words send a cold chill down your spine and you shiver, helpless.

"How am I supposed to get out if I don't know where the exit is?" You demand with your last ounce of energy. 

It wobbles its way towards the door, and stops to face you expectantly. Is it offering to guide you? You're not quite sure whether to trust the ghoulish creature, but the rotting room is filling you with panic. 

Anything is better than being alone here. 

What a suffocating atmosphere. The corridors are tall, narrow and black. You can barely discern anything around you and the only sounds are the ghastly echoes of the metal creaking and bending from the water pressure. That, and your uncertain steps across the muddy flow. You glance at the creature. Its eyes are covered by a leather blindfold, so the darkness mustn't be an impediment for it. Then again, how can it tell its way within this colossal labyrinth?

"Is this where you live?" you whisper, trying to make conversation. You need something to distract you from your pounding heart.

It nods hesitantly. 

Your foot hits something and you instinctively attempt to kick it off. Perhaps some algae that begun developing in this forgotten grave. It seems to have wrapped around your ankle, so you bend down to remove it with your hands. It's a soaked sheet of paper. The ink has mostly diffused into the page, but you can still read some of the larger headlines. "Dozens have disappeared. The mystery of the abandoned Asylum, believed to be haunted by the countless victims of horrid experimentation". Next to the title is a photograph too smudged to make out.

You stop in your tracks, focused on the blurry letters. The monster patiently waits for you. Is it something to be asked? You gaze up at its features, trying to take in the details. You take a deep breath in and open your mouth. 

"Did they...um...do this to you upstairs?"

It seems to ponder your question with the same unfaltering grin that now feels painfully forced. Finally, it nods.

What a strange little creature you are. He returns your curious stare. Now that he thinks about it, you must be the very first person to follow him. When was the last time he spoke to another living creature? He can't remember. The others would panic beyond control at the mere sight of him, blindly running away and getting lost in the sewers. Later he'd find their bodies quickly decomposing under the running water, and he'd dispose of them outside. No one deserves to die here. The really unfortunate ones made it upstairs, into the asylum. He'd rather not brood over it. 

Yet here you are, asking questions and walking alongside him as if you were on a stroll. He doubts he's gotten less hideous over the years. Then again, he can't see to confirm. Just as he can't see you. Despite his lack of vision, he is overwhelmed by the feeling that you're a beautiful being. You must be. And thankfully, you won't have to worry yourself with any of the horrors lurking these cursed grounds for much longer. He'll help you escape.

Then he'll be alone once more. It shouldn't bother him this much, it's always been like this. But meeting you has reminded him just how much he missed the presence of another human, how dearly he longed for a kind voice. Is it selfish to fear isolation? 

"Oh! You're right, I can see a gate from here." You exclaim in gratitude. 

You sprint towards the rusty bars and feel a cool breeze against your skin. This must lead outside. The creature has kept its word. Soon enough all of this will be a nightmare of the past.

"I-" 

The monster seems to be making an effort to speak, but all that comes out is a dissonant croak. You're confused and he can sense it. 

Must you really leave him behind? He needs to let you know that he'd like to stay with you, but his throat is contracting pointlessly and there's nothing he can use as a writing surface. What is there to do? His chest is tightening with the frenzied desire to keep you with him forever.

Please don't leave him.

[astroph1les]

this love | chapter one [h.c]

summary: your prince suitors have been driving you insane. after a scene you make at a ball, the king and queen have decided to put their foot down and have a knight look after you. knight meets princess. princess has conflicting thoughts about knight.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: isabel being the sweetest girl, lonely princess who is misunderstood, knight!hazel, charming!hazel, king and queen are not the best and it won’t get better from here ://, hazel is readers gay awakening (real.), no y/n!

word count: 4.7K

a/n: everything will kind of start next chapter with hazel and reader’s beginning dynamic. this is just introducing how shitty the reader is treated and the royals beliefs.

The royal life.

The poor desired what came with royalty. Wealth, status, comfortability, security, love, and even. Whatever that may be. You envied those who weren’t a part of this life.

The corset underneath your, while stunning, uncomfortable gown suffocated you while you danced with yet another new suitor who had traveled across the seas to Rockridge Palace. Prince Jeffery Williams had been the sixth — hopefully final— prince to attend yet another one of these balls that the king and queen insisted they throw for you and your suitor to get to know one another.

Prince Jeffrey would not stop talking about himself as you slow danced and it was driving you up the wall. He was somehow incredibly louder in volume than the live orchestra.

On top of his ability to talk about all of his successes, which you were sure were entirely made up, he had wandering eyes… and hands. You shouldn’t have had to move his hands from below your hip back up to your waist as many times as you did.

After the third time and disgustingly cocky smirk, you had enough. Out of impulse, you raised your foot to slam it down onto his boot-covered one. Jeffrey let out a squeal that made you smile to yourself but quickly put on a feigned expression.

“Oh dear, Prince Jeffrey. I-I must have two left feet.” You place a hand over your heart, gasping as if you didn’t deliberately harm him.

Prince Jeffrey folded over to hold onto his now throbbing foot, face turning a beat red as he forced out a chuckle. Every other maiden and man that surrounded you both had stopped their dancing to stare and gape at the scene.

“I feel faint. I must go lie down.” Prince Jeffrey excused himself, smoothing down the front of his deep navy blue tailcoat. “Until we meet again, Princess.”

“Until then.” You bow with the fakest of smiles before clearing your throat.

Jeffrey scurried away to his guest room in the palace, his own personal guard following right behind. The music resumed, much louder than before as you locked eyes with your mother from across the grand room conversing with Jeffrey's mother.

You could feel her anger radiating through her heavy breathing and sudden excusing herself from the queen of Jeffrey’s kingdom. Other townspeople moved themselves out of the way as your mother swiftly made her way towards you.

There was a slight chance you may have gone a tad far with the aggression.

“Oh, sweet pea,” your mother sing-songs as she approaches you, hands folded elegantly in front of her torso, “Is it time for bed then?”

You knew there was a hint of anger laced in her sickenly sweet words. It wasn’t to fool you, though, but the surrounding guests. There was no fighting her, at least, at that very moment.

“Mother, I do feel quite drowsy. Would it be alright to head to bed?” You plaster on the same faux smile, sucking in a deep breath.

“I would highly suggest it. Now, go on then. I must tell these disappointed guests that the ball must come to an end.” Her smile unknowingly dropped as she ended her sentence.

You nod your heavy head, turning on your heels to make your way out of the grand ballroom to your bedroom. As you keep your head down to avoid the wandering eyes and whispers of: ‘Where’s the princess going?’ and ‘What happened with Prince Jeffrey?’. You hear footsteps trailing behind you, turning your head slightly to see the one person who could stand to be around in this entire palace.

“What did Prince Jeffrey do?” Isabel, your handmaiden and only friend, questions who as she sped up to walk side-by-side with you.

You sigh, retracting the groan that was threatening to escape.

“He was a conceited and handsy idiot just like Walter, Arthur, Abraham, Edmund, and Bennett. I couldn’t stand him, Isabel. They are quite literally all the same.”

Isabel visibly frowns, nodding along to your words. You tilt your head up to glance at the dulled hallways of the palace. Paintings of your family line hung up along the velvet red walls — four-time great-grandparents in order down to you and your elder sister; Moira.

“Well, this has already been the sixth suitor. The King and Queen already said that you had to decide by your twentieth.” Isabel carefully reminded you, fiddling with the string of the front of her simple yet beautifully fitting dress.

“That’s just it. I don’t have any desire to marry. Especially to men like that.” You seethed, approaching your high bedroom doors.

The divine vine and floral gold design decorate the dark wood. You wrapped your fingers around the handle to tug it open, grunting softly at how heavy the door was. Isabel quickly rushed to your aid, pulling the door backward. You thanked her quietly before marching into your room.

“Is there anything I can do?” Isabel kindly asked you, only wanting to make sure you were feeling okay.

“If you could just help me get out of this ridiculous dress.” You let out a groan which caused the green-eyed woman to chuckle.

“Of course, princess.” Her tone was teasing as she approached you from behind to begin undoing the laces that were keeping the corset tight on your aching body.

You huff out a soft laugh at the words as you insisted multiple times that you hated being addressed as Princess by the maidens, knights, guards, and kitchen staff that lived in the palace. Especially Isabel. She was more than just your handmaiden and personal attendant, she was your friend that you cared for.

Once she unraveled the last lace, you breathed correctly for the first time since your mother and the other maidens forced you into the constricting dress. She patted your tense back with a sigh.

“Better?”

Nodding through a soft pant, you say: “Incredibly.”

You both chuckle as you gradually sit on your large mattress.

“Anything else you may need?” Isabel questions as she stands next to you on the bed, torso meeting your temple.

Your eyes soften at her question, calming down as you take in a deep breath. You take her soft hands in yours, shaking your head.

“You’re too kind to me, Bel. I think I should just lie down now. You should rest as well before I have to endure whatever my parents will say tomorrow.” You nod, your voice is equally as gentle to her.

Isabel nodded, not having much more to add to the conversation. It was now entirely too late for either of you. The sun had been set since the ball began, the darkness taking over the once bright blue sky.

“Well, we’ll speak more in the morning.” Isabel nodded curtly, giving your hands a single squeeze.

“First thing.” You nod, releasing her hands.

Sharing one more smile, you watch as she leaves your grand room. A lonely feeling settles in your chest as you begin to undress for the night. You knew in the morning you were going to endure your mother and father’s scolding and lectures about how to not ‘embarrass their lineage’ and how ‘childish’ you were.

If you were silent enough and held your breath, you could hear the voices from the ballroom; disappointed and angry with the event ending early. Maybe you had gone too far this time with Prince Jeffrey.

No, he was not appealing by any means.

Left in your slip dress, you slowly crawl underneath the silky sheets covering your large mattress. Once your head laid down on the sheets, you fell into a familiar exhausted slumber.

You were awoken from an empty dream by the morning horns, the sun's rays beaming in through the tall windows near your bed. You sat up quickly, pushing your frizzy hair out of your face.

Without any sort of warning, you hear your bedroom door swing open. Following in were three of your usual maidens who helped you get ready in the morning. Isabel then trailed in soon after, flashing you a quick smile as you appeared extremely tired.

“Morning, princess.” All three of the maidens speak in unison causing you to quickly put on that fake persona.

“Morning, Mildred,” you nod towards Mildred; tall and blonde. “Vivian,” her baby face and dark skin shine as she bows. “Beth.” Her fiery hair shone in the sunlight as she, too, bowed in respect towards you.

“The king and queen have called you in to share some crucial news in the throne room,” Mildred speaks up, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows furrow immediately at the different choice of words. After incidents like last night, it would be the same from either of the girls: “The king and queen are requesting your presence.”

News? What news could there possibly be?

“Well, I should get dressed then. Can’t have them waiting too long.” You nod slowly, removing your now warm bed sheets from your body.

Isabel rushed to your wardrobe as Beth scurried to your side to help you out of bed.

You were exceptionally privileged and you were aware of it. Especially in these instances where you could easily dress yourself and make up your room but the maidens did it for you. It makes you feel lazy and useless.

“This dress should be perfect. Not too tight around the waist and flattering.” Isabel approached you with said dress in the palms of her hands, grinning kindly.

You trusted her so you thanked her quietly, allowing them to take over.

Within minutes, your tossed sheets were made finely by Mildred and Vivian. Isabel and Beth helped you into the dress, making sure your undergarments were hidden by the other fabrics.

The fit was quite pleasant, you must admit. The front was a bit lower than you had thought but you had rarely been so comfortable in your wardrobe without it just being those undergarments.

Your natural hair flowed down and over your shoulders, a black ribbon tied to keep half of it out of your face. A few flyways escaped but you enjoyed how it frames your face. The girls clamored around you, hands on every part of your dress to smooth out wrinkles.

God forbid the princess appear imperfect in any way.

Once they had finished getting you ready, they left the room, leaving you and Isabel to walk down the beautifully decorated halls to make your way to where your presence was requested.

“Do you have any idea what this news could be?” You mutter softly, eyes locked on Isabel’s side profile.

“I’m not sure if it’s true but apparently in the late of the night, the king and queen discussed assigning a knight to look over you,” Isabel whispered as her eyes darted to the line of knights that were passing by the two of you.

The metal clanked as they walked in an orderly fashion. You assumed it was for training as they tended to take about two hours to train before standing in their assigned places around the castle.

“Look over me?” You asked in disbelief.

You weren’t a toddler that needed to be looked after. You already felt your blood boiling as you were approaching the grand archway of the throne room.

“That was all I heard passing by Linda and Nina in the kitchen this morning.” Isabel quickly whispered.

Linda and Nina were older women in the kitchen who, although talented in the kitchen, gossiped about you constantly. You assumed it was jealousy of either your title or your youth.

Your eyes darted from the high marble archways to the gold-lined thrones that sat both of your parents. Your attitude was already set in place as you walked up just a few feet from them. The stomping of your everyday flats echoed against the floors, revealing how irritated you already were.

“Father—“ You began with annoyance laced in your tone.

“No!” His deep voice echoed, cutting you off as he slammed down his staff.

Out of the corner of your eye, Isabel flinched at the loud sound. Your breathing was heavy as you maintained eye contact with your father. He didn't scare you as he did his overly dramatic actions.

It only increased the amount of hatred you had towards him. Your mother remained silent, glancing at your father before flickering her eyes back to you.

“I am going to talk. You are going to listen and not interrupt me. I have had it with this… humiliating attitude you’ve decided to put on.” Your father seethed, a vein on his neck protruding. “Prince Jeffrey is a guest in our kingdom and you embarrassed him. This temper is childish. You will be twenty by mid-July and you’re behaving this way. Moira had not been so stubborn about her suitors as you have.”

You felt your nostrils flare as of course, he was blaming you for the way Prince Jeffrey had reacted last night. It was never a man's fault, no. Only you and your temper. Throwing you and your elder sister’s differences in your face as well wasn’t unheard of.

“You must formally apologize to both Jeffrey and the Queen effective immediately.” Your mother intervened, her tone rather calm in comparison to your father.

You remained silent, simply nodding to her words. There was no point in arguing as you knew they were going to shut you down. You watched as your parents exchanged a look before shifting in their thrones.

“Now, because of your rather upsetting actions the night prior, your mother and I have chosen a knight to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Your father sucked in a deep breath before continuing his words. “Dame Callahan will be your knight.”

Your eyes narrowed as you heard ‘dame’ instead of ‘sir’. There were very few knights that were women so you were automatically expecting there to be a man. You knew of Sir Callahan as he was a noble knight that you’ve known since you were a child but not Dame Callahan.

“Sir Callahan has a daughter?” You question, folding your hands in front of you.

This was certainly news to you. You weren’t even aware that he had a wife to begin with, let alone a secret daughter.

“Indeed. Now, she’s only had her knight status for a year but hopefully, you’ll adapt to her professionalism. Learn from her.” Your mother answers, her brows raising at you accusingly. “She should be arriving any minute now.”

As if right on cue, you hear the horns from the guards outside echo faintly. You turn your neck to glance at the hallway that leads to the main entryway doors.

“Well,” your father cleared his throat, “Let’s go and properly greet them, yes?”

Your eyes locked with Isabel who was already peering down the hallway where you all were headed. You approach her with a forced grin, locking your arm with hers as you take your time walking towards the grand entrance. Her eyes soften as she knows you are feeling a range of emotions about this whole arrangement.

“How are you doing?” Isabel hums, trying to keep quiet as the king and queen are just a foot behind you two.

“Other than absolutely infuriated,” you suck in a deep breath, tilting your head at the freckled woman, “Alright.”

Isabel nods, not knowing what to do now. You knew you were being short but you didn't want to say something you didn't mean out of anger towards the kind woman. You simply pressed your head to hers gently to show you were listening.

“I’m sure Dame Callahan won’t be as difficult as your parents are.” Isabel sighs, keeping her volume quiet. “You might even like her. Make a new friend that isn’t me.”

You gape at her words, nudging her with your hip as you both chuckle to yourselves. You cherish these fleeting moments of joy, holding onto them to keep for your worser days.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.” Isabel shook her head, her laughter fading as the front door guards were now holding the heavy wood open.

You glanced at Isabel once more before releasing her arm to walk past the guards in their uniforms of the castle's flag colors, watching as they bowed as you and your parents passed by. You nod in response before stepping out on the open staircase, the sun’s beams burning into your skin.

Rounding the corner of the gates was a person on a dark brown horse — borderline black. You feel Isabel’s tense presence along with your father’s looming figure and your mother’s petite one.

You fixed your posture, taking in one deep breath as you awaited her arrival.

“Oh, sweet pea, this dress was not the most appropriate choice.” You hear your mother utter as she judgingly ranks her eyes up and down your frame.

“I can’t change now, Mother, so it’ll have to do.” You snarkily replied, eyes locked ahead of you.

You didn't have to be facing your mother to know she did not appreciate your response. Letting it go for now, you, your parents, and Isabel begin to wave at who you assumed to be Dame Callahan. The stranger knight tugs on the maritangle causing the horse to stop in its tracks right in front of the impressive stone steps.

Callahan begins to make her way up the steps, giving you a better look at her.

It had to have just been you, but you took in how perfect her skin appeared as she grew closer. You could feel Isabel’s eyes burning into the side of your head, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction to Dame Callahan.

First, she greeted both of your parents addressing them with their assigned greetings. Her voice was velvety, charming almost. You waited patiently for her to greet you, hands flexing anxiously by your sides. She didn't appear knight-like as all she was wearing were a pair of black boots, a simple commoner-appearing outfit, and a leather belt that held her sword in that same leather material.

“Princess,” she addresses you before kneeling on one knee, gingerly taking her hand in her gloved one. You tense as she leans her head forward to place her lips on the back of your hand.

Her eyes peer up at you, her dark lashes highlighting her alluring blue eyes. You hadn’t uttered a word yet, completely forgetting all the words you’ve ever known. Dame Callahan releases your hand once she notices how eerily still you’ve become.

“Princess, I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” Callahan speaks again, adjusting the belt on her waist to respectfully smile at you.

Has she already let go of your hand? You thought to yourself. You feel a sharp bone drive into your lower back which causes you to inhale, becoming aware of what was going on. You caress the hand that she had kissed before holding your hands in front of your hips.

“I hope they were all good things.” You reply, regaining your proper posture.

“Yes,” Dame Callahan replies, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “Though, they surely forgot to mention your beauty.”

You blink. Did she just compliment you? It could be an out-of-respect situation. Kissing up to you as you were certain that your parents weren’t that kind with informing Dame Callahan about being assigned to you.

“Oh, well,” you nod, feeling out of your own body. “Thank you, Dame Callahan.”

“Of course, Princess.” She, again, responds with such a poised attitude.

You were feeling extremely conflicted about Dame Callahan. A part of you wanted to get to know her; starting with her first name. Another part was admiring her side profile as she spoke to your father and mother. Why were you admiring her in the first place? You weren’t entirely sure.

“Well, Dame Callahan could settle into her new manor as we prepare the welcome lunch.” Your mother spoke up which caught your attention. “Sweet pea?”

You blink and turn to your mother to see her waiting impatiently for you to say something. Dame Callahan’s head was tilted with furrowed brows as you seemed to be zoning in and out of the conversation.

“Oh! Right! I can show you where you’ll be staying.” You send Dame Callahan a short grin, afraid to stare at her for too long.

The new knight nodded, respectfully bowing at both of your parents and Isabel before stepping to the side to allow you to go first. You begin to make your way down the steps as the manor for the knight's living space is a tower away from the main palace. The hot sun beeped down on your skin, a cool spring breeze brushing past your flowing hair.

The whole walk to the manor was eerily quiet. Neither you nor Dame Callahan were making any form of small talk. All you could hear were the horses huffing a few feet away in the stables, the clinking of metal from the other knights in uniform, and the chirping of the birds in the surrounding trees.

Your shoulders brushed for a mere second as she walked alongside you. You could see from your peripheral stealing glances at you like she wanted to say something but not uttering a word. To be fair, you were doing the same thing.

As you approach the large wooden door, you turn to her as you pause right in front of the entryway. She, too, pauses her steps with you, eyes locking on your face.

Why was her stare burning into you more than the sun? It felt so intense.

“This is the knight’s manor. I will see you around the lunch hour then.” You say.

Out of fear of flushing in her presence, you avoid pouring your eyes into her bright ones.

Dame Callahan nods, and a crinkle between her brows forms. “Is everything alright, princess?”

“Yes, of course. I think I’m just hungry.” You nod slowly, a nervous smile forming on your face.

Could she see right through you? It sure seemed like it. Callahan simply nods, knowing better than to press on such a matter, especially with a princess.

“Right, yes. I’ll just…” She trailed off, pointing to the door.

Your eyes followed her finger before a wave of embarrassment washed over you. A nervous laugh left your lips before nodding and waving your hand towards the door.

“Until lunch then.”

Dame Callahan’s lips quipped into a smile that seemed endearing. She placed a hand on the iron ring and tugged the door open. She bowed ever so slightly.

“Until then, princess.”

The door shut with a loud clunk, flinching at the sudden noise. For the rest of the morning, all you could think about was the way she said ‘princess’ towards you.

Lunch-time arrived in the middle of an etiquette lesson with Mrs. DuBois. The bells went off causing you instantly slouch in your seat. Your back was killing you from how aligned you were forcing onto yourself.

“We’ll continue this lesson tomorrow.” Mrs. DuBois sharply tapped at your back to get you to straighten your posture. “Though, I do not understand the point of this. You slouch so much, you are becoming a hunchback, princess.”

You send her a tight-lipped grin as you smooth down your dress. Isabel was waiting patiently for you in the corner of the room so she could walk you out.

“Lunch calls.” You force a laugh out.

Mrs. DuBois, unamused, nods before turning her back towards you and Isabel. You frown at her obvious attitude before motioning with your head towards the door. Isabel got the hint and gave Mrs. DuBois a quick goodbye.

Once they were out into the hallway, you began to chuckle with Isabel at how stuck-up Mrs.DuBois was.

“She said I have a hunchback, Bel. How dramatic is that?” You scoff, shaking your head.

“I swear, she’s never once felt an ounce of joy in her entire life.” Isabel added on, rounding the corner.

You two are giggling when you walk into the enormous dining hall. You could smell the delicious stew the staff had cooked for you all. You caught sight of Dame Callahan already sitting at the elongated table.

Right in front of your seat next to your mother.

“She’s sitting right across from me.” You slow down your feet, growing anxious to approach the table.

Isabel furrowed her brows, following your eyes to see Dame Callahan already conversing with your mother. Unable to comprehend what was wrong about that, she asks: “Is that bad?”

“No. Not necessarily. Just…” You trail off as you approach the table with Isabel.

You couldn’t even think of a valid excuse for how you felt about her place at the table. Why was she doing this to your mind? Maybe it was the thought that from this point forward, she was going to be quite literally around every corner, near you around the clock from dusk to dawn.

Sure, Isabel was already that but she had been around you for years. Dame Callahan was new and a stranger.

“Oh! Sweet pea, we were just discussing what exactly Dame Callahan will be doing whilst being your knight.” Your mother looked over at the intimidating knight, an overly friendly smile on her face.

You glance at your mother before taking your place right next to your father, Isabel sitting on the other side of you. All of the bowls of steaming hot beef stew thankfully distracted you as you patiently waited for your father to signal that it was okay to eat.

By that, you meant ‘the king always eats first.’ Once he took his first sip, you began to dig in shamelessly.

“So, Dame Callahan,” your father started, voice deep and booming.

“Yes, sir?” She perked up, eyes wide with patience.

“Your father never mentioned your name.” He plainly stated.

You, too, were curious about her first name, eyes darting over to her sharp features that were highlighted by the sun peeking in through the large windows. Her eyes flickered to you, strangely enough, before uttering her name.

“Hazel, your majesty.” She nodded, a smile forming on her perfectly pink lips.

Hazel. It suited her, you thought. Its simplicity was beautiful.

“It’s a lovely name.” You confess, sending her the least awkward smile you could muster.

Hazel’s eyes locked with yours. Her smile matched yours; genuine and kind.

“Thank you, princess.”

You break eye contact first, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of her stare. You continue eating, eyes dancing from person to person as they add to the conversation. After everyone listened to how Hazel’s journey was to the kingdom, it was around the same time that everyone was finishing up their bread and stew.

“Well, I believe this is the first time you’ve not spoken during a feast,” your father speaks up, eyes locking on yours.

“I don’t have much to say, father.” You quip.

“You’re not always that way, sadly enough.” His tone was quite obviously degrading and meant to humiliate you.

You prod your tongue into the inside of your cheek, wondering why he was starting this right now. Hazel had just arrived and he was already trying to pick a fight with you.

“Oh, your majesty, it’s alright. I think I’ve talked enough for now,” Hazel quickly buts in.

You glance at her, furrowing your brows at her unexpectedly. She was looking directly at your father for just a moment before sending you a soft look.Your father hadn’t replied back to Hazel’s quick words but you feared he might. You straighten your back and clear your throat as you stand up, smoothing down your dress

“I’m feeling full now. May I leave the dining table?” You stare expectantly at your parents, hoping they would just let you this one time.

Your mother simply nods as you turn to Isabel who had already finished her meal. She took that as a hint to leave as well, nodding respectfully towards your parents and Hazel. Her familiar arms lock with yours as you walk down the hallway to venture to your room.

“She seems nice.” Isabel spoke first, looking at you for confirmation that you felt that same way.

You didn’t know what to feel.

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[unforgettwble-sumii]

SHINING FROM AFAR ੈ✩‧˚ — W.A

(Wednesday x fem!reader 📖)

⭐ You wished she would just look at you, give you all her attention, her affection. You sought for her warmth even if she barely gave you any.

⭐ Warnings‼️: ooc! Wednesday, Asthma attack, and other subjects that may trigger other readers.

—

Wednesday Addams, the girl that currently held your heart in a chokehold. The girl you longed to be with for the longest of times. Unfortunately, the heavens weren't paying attention to your constant pleas. Wednesday had an obscure aura, in contrast to your lucent self. But as they say, opposites attract.

At this point, you have been hanging on to that saying for dear life. A single saying caused your delusions to run wild. You suppose it was her deep intelligence and obscure aura that made you infatuated with her. You weren't one to fall for those with dark demeanors but the young Addams caused your heart to beat with every one of her moves, without her even trying.

The way she spoke, the way she walked, the way she would shamelessly degrade imbeciles who stood in her way, and her eagerness to find a solution to each and every one of her investigations—all of them made you fall for her deeper and deeper as each day went by. And as each day went by, you longed for her to just look at you the way you did.

Falling for someone like her had its ups and downs, mainly being unable to talk to her for more than mere seconds. Wednesday is a very busy girl, and she is usually seen roaming the Academy halls, in her room, or outside investigating. Which means, you can't just talk to her whenever and whatever much you want.

Another thing is not being able to tell how she actually feels. Wednesday is usually seen with a Kubrick stare plastered on her face, showing little to no emotion beside a few tugs of her eyebrows—but that's merely it. That is, unless you were able to somehow delve into her heart without other trivial consequences. Which is, of course, a dream yet to come true.

Wednesday was the moon to you. So easy to observe and to admire, but not so easy to reach and touch.

—

Studying, according to many, was so-called boring. But for you, it was a way to put your mind at ease. Something most people didn't really understand. And so you studied all night, as much as your heart desired. Now, you are currently pondering other things that could cure your desire to do something. It was early in the morning, so any activities that caused too much ruckus were impracticable. So, you opted for something more appropriate for this situation: exploring the academy halls.

It was an early Saturday morning; the birds were chirping and half of the Academy was sound asleep. You on the other hand, was laying on your bed, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. Your dorm mate had gone out last night and was currently sleeping in her boyfriend's dorm on the other side of the Academy. You took this into your advantage to rack your brain for any writing ideas. As well gave in to the opportunity of studying.

Soon after, you quietly tiptoed outside your dorm, hoping to not run into any familiar faces. Thankfully, luck was on your side. The thought of exploring the Academy this early in the morning sent shivers down your spine. The lights were barely on and it was as if there were tall shadowed figures across the halls.

You grabbed your phone and a few other items, then stuffed them into a small backpack that you soon slung over your shoulder. It wasn't like you were going camping, but at this Academy, you wouldn't know what to expect. You were the type to be quite adventurous, so there was a possibility that you were going to explore outside the academy walls as well.

You quietly opened the door to the classroom, and to your surprise, it was "Selvester!", You scolded the cat. Selvester, your beloved cat who also seemed to love to wander the halls, was trapped in one of your professor's classrooms. The cat meowed playfully in response. Selvester was a wise cat and often frightened many due to his black fur and heterochromatic eyes. And was often thought to be "bad luck". But you were far from believing those sayings. Ironically, you considered Selvester as your lucky charm.

As you were walking down the halls, you heard a soft cry coming from a nearby classroom. Normally, people who would come across this situation would slowly back up or move forward. But you were eager to see what could possibly make those noises. Could it be a monster? or could it be a possible trap? the list goes on.

You picked the black cat up and continued walking through the halls. By the time you reached the school gates, the sun was rising. 'A sight to see' for many. Thus, you went on with your exploration. Carefully open the locked gates by inserting a bobby pin into the key hole—a trick you've seen used in the movies but never thought that you'd be able to use until now.

Selvester softly purred, peeking his head out of your backpack. "Shhhh, kitty." You shushed the cat, bringing your attention back to the interiors of the shack. There were canvases with dark and haunting paintings plastered on them. 'This person must be into sombre art', you thought.

You made your way to a nearby forest to continue your journey. In the forest stood tall, dark trees that overshadowed you and Selvester. It was an eerie yet calming walk. You took the chance to scope out the remaining surroundings before you noticed a small shack in the distance. It looked old; parts of the roof were crumbling. It's a miracle that it still stood there.

You opened the rusted doors of the shack with caution, hoping to not draw any attention from possible predators waiting to attack. Going into the forest without a proper guide or a fellow classmate was a risky move. But what can you say? The risk makes the chase even better.

This was definitely owned by a student, since this particular shack wasn't far from campus. A black and blue striped blazer that was hung away in the corner proved your point. Diverting your gaze from the blazer, you took in the details of the painting infront of you. It was clearly unfinished; it was still on its easel.

Carefully stepping into the worn-down shed, keeping an eye out for any items that may pique your interest. The shack was quite untidy—paint brushes scattered on the floor, walls covered in red paint—or at least that's what you hope it was.

The painting had this sort of sense to it—as if it were alive. The unfamiliar creature had revolting red eyes that stiffened anyone who came in contact with them, sharp teeth that could cut a wound so deep, and a disturbing figure that could be recognized even from a mile away.

The lights in the shed flickered, causing you to look up and around. It turns out you weren't alone in the shed. Another student was exploring the forest as well, probably on an investigation.

You struggled to find a reply that wouldn't seem so stupid. You wouldn't want to look like a fool infront of a raven like her. After all, how were you going to tell her that you were out exploring because you had nothing better to do. Clearly Wednesday has heard better replies than that.

Wednesday seemingly appeared out of nowhere to scare the remaining life out of you. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" Wednesday asked, a slight inquisitive tone lasing her voice.

You gave in and sighed; it was no use lying to Wednesday. "I was just out exploring, then I stumbled upon this old shack. I thought that it'd be a great idea to check it out," you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your white sweater.

Wednesday scanned your face, unsure of what to do in this circumstance. You posed the same query to her. It was amusing that you had the same justification, but Wednesday was aware that the shed was nearby. She stated that she was conducting research in an effort to find fresh information.

Just as you thought nothing could ruin this moment, a low growl emerged from one of the bushes. Causing you and Wednesday to look back. Eyes wide, hands slightly shaking, you turned to look at Wednesday, brows furrowed. It seems like she understood your quiet questioning.

In response to her reply, your shoulders relaxed slightly. It was a miracle that the heavens hadn't come to get you with how fast your heart was beating. It never occurred to your mind that you'd be able to hold a conversation with Wednesday for this long. She slightly shook her head, Wednesday's obscure aura seemingly faltering. She quickly regained her posture and her Kubrick stare.

You tried your best to keep up and not fall over, and then you saw it. Eyes bloodshot red, jaw wide open with its canines out. The Hyde had incredible speed. It was so vile that you felt like gagging. You and Wednesday ran for 15 minutes without stopping, praying the Hyde would leave you alone and find something else to prey on.

"The Hyde," she cautiously said. Your mind flickered for a moment, not even processing what she said before she grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the shack. The growl was getting louder and louder. Without a choice, you followed Wednesday's lead. You both darted in a direction away from the 'Hyde', running so fast that you could barely breathe. Your lungs were starting to tighten up, your heart beginning to ache, and your mind fogging up. Did you bring an inhaler?

Wednesday crouched down once she noticed your situation. "What's going on?" Wednesday asked, a really ludicrous question, she thought. Obviously, you were having an asthma attack. She carefully took your bag, looking for anything that might help you in this situation. But seeing as you didn't have an inhaler, she had to think of other things that could possibly calm you and your breathing.

Once Wednesday felt that the coast was clear, you both stopped at a nearby oak tree. You quickly sat down, slumping over the roots, trying to catch your breath. But it was no use. You clenched your chest so hard due to the immense pain you were feeling.

Wednesday wasn't one to feel sorry for other pupils, but since she felt that it was her fault that your asthma flared up, she chose to assist you. which actually wasn't her fault. Yes, it was out of character but, you chose not to mention it. She made you sit in an upright position in order to open your airway. "Follow my breathing," she said sternly, so you did as you were told. Your beautiful eyes were glossed with tears waiting to fall. Her attempts to calm you down were harder than she thought. You kept moving, making it hard for your anxiety to ease.

Wednesday called out to Thing, who was hiding in her jacket. She had asked him to slowly rub between your index finger and thumb. While all this was happening, Selvester sat beside you, nuzzling his head on your arm. Everything was just so blurry; you hadn't realized that Selvester had jumped out of your backpack to comfort you.

After that, you loosened up. But the Hyde's visions continued to trouble you. Wednesday nodded in response to your thanks for her assistance. You may have appeared pitiful, but you didn't mind. "We should go." You nodded, wearily getting up from where you sat and picking Selvester up, to which he reacted with a meow. Thing hopped on Wednesday's shoulder, signing something to her before making his way into one of the pockets in her jacket. You couldn't really make out what he meant—but it didn't really matter.

Wednesday gestured, raven eyes facing yours. It was like a dream—a dream you never wanted to wake up from. In an effort to take advantage of the peaceful calm, you and Wednesday made your way back to the school grounds.

The sun had fully risen by this point, and your friends were likely looking for you. That was the least of your worries, though. As soon as you were in front of the gate, you cautiously crept inside to avoid attracting the notice of any school personnel and risk getting Wednesday and you into trouble.

You were startled out of your reverie by Wednesday's startling noise as she cleared her throat. As soon as you realized you had arrived, you looked up to find your dorm number. Looking across at Wednesday, you smiled a little. Eyes gesturing a thank you. Wednesday said, "I don't understand why you're thanking me, but you're welcome."

You both quickly made your way to Ophelia Hall, where both of your dorms were. Your cheeks began to heat up as your mind continued to race through the recent events that had come your way, but you made an effort to remain composed.

Even though your room and Wednesday's were in the opposite direction from one another and it seemed a little absurd that Thing would emerge from Wednesday's jacket to wave you off, you still thought it was really charming. You smiled sweetly at the appendage and said, "Thank you as well, Thing." Selvester meowed at Wednesday and Thing, making you laugh because it appeared that he didn't want to be left out.

"We should embark on more adventures, Wednesday," you said before entering, to which Wednesday softly responded, "We'll see," and then went away. You close the door to your room, letting your façade fall apart as you scream into a pillow from the euphoria you were experiencing. It appears that the heavens were indeed paying attention to your pleas after all.

— ⭐

Wednesday stood in front of her door, glancing back at yours before muttering, 'Til our next adventure, mi flor.' 

a/n:

Hello my sweet dolls, how are you guys doing?

☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ*🎀 ꒱ა

It took me 2 days to finish this one-shot, but since I was feeling particularly ambitious, I was able to publish it. I must admit that I am really pleased with the result, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. That's all, thankyouu luv u all xoxo!!! ♡ - unforgettwble-sumii

©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal modify, or translate.

[torreshalstead]

On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 12

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 12/15

Notes - sorry for all the pain and yelling last chapter but hopefully this one starts to make up for it! Happy Reading ❤️ AO3 Link

August 1945

6 weeks, that’s all that stood between Hailey and her marriage to Oscar.

The date had not been her decision, Oscar Senior had made the call and she had no reason anymore to fight it. She had no reason to fight anything any longer, she simply went through the motions every single day, plastering on a smile for her family and the customers in the store who were all excited for the wedding of the century.

That was how the newspapers were framing it anyway. A young couple who had put the needs of their country above their own desire to be together and postponed their wedding until the brave boys were back on home soil. They were pitched as heroes, self-sacrificing saints - it made Hailey sick to her stomach every time she read it. It was selling the papers and giving both Upton’s and Farrell’s a boost commercially as well. So it was a happy ending all around.

Though not for Hailey.

Her tears had dried up, she had stopped reading Jay’s letters, had folded them up neatly and placed them in a box in the bottom of her closet. The words that had been a lifeline for her throughout the past year, now caused her nothing but pain when she read them. Her copy of The Mysterious Affair at Styles was tucked away with them. She should have felt sad putting them away, but inside her chest was nothing but emptiness, her broken heart beating alone.

If her mother had noticed that she was not excited for her wedding, what should be the most anticipated day in a young woman’s life, she had not said a word. On occasion Hailey would catch her mother looking at her with an expression she could not quite read, but still she said nothing. And Hailey had given her word. She would not go back on it now.

In six weeks she would be Mrs Oscar Farrell. The title left a sour taste in her mouth.

Oscar came to pick her up one morning, apparently there was a discussion at his house that required her input. She doubted that was the truth, all the decisions regarding the wedding had been made without her, not that she minded. The less involvement she had, the less she had to try and force a smile and excitement over the guest list full of names she did not know or a menu with food she didn’t like. The wedding was a party that held her name only.

‘Mother wants your opinion on china patterns,’ Oscar said warmly, offering Hailey his arm when he greeted her. She wrapped her hand round the crook of his elbow, engaged couples could walk arm in arm without inviting comments from the elders of the community. To not do so could possibly warrant more questions so Hailey dutifully accepted every time it was offered.

‘I am happy with whatever she wants,’ Hailey said flatly. She really could not care less about which china patterns Mrs Farrell wanted. She was more concerned with a memorial that was due to be erected in honour of the towns fallen and she didn’t know who to ask to see if a certain name would be included. It had been on the front page of the local newspaper, a tribute to the brave and fallen. Hailey imagined it would give people a place to grieve, she just didn’t know if she would be among them yet - would his name be listed?

The boys from the front had been returning home in groups, some in much worse states than when they had left, though their sweethearts still ran and greeted them, thankful they had come home at all. Lists of missing were still posted daily to the papers but she had stopped checking. She knew in her heart she wouldn’t see Jay’s name there.

He had lost his life in battle, and no one had told her.

According to the paperwork and all official records that the army had to go on, she was nothing to him, so didn’t warrant a letter or a notice to let her know her loved one had died.

He was just another man who wouldn’t return home with no one left to mourn him. No one to miss him or to remember the good man that he had been.

‘She’s picking between a blue one and a red one,’ Oscar continued, clearly oblivious to Hailey’s less than interested attitude. ‘Patriotic she thought.’

‘Mhm,’ Hailey hummed, he wasn’t listening to her anyway so what was the point in talking.

She let her focus drift, staring unfocused at the shop fronts they walked past, all hanging Stars and Stripes banners and celebratory placards. It should be a joyful occasion.

Her eyes focused on a figure at the end of the street.

A familiar figure with dark hair and green eyes.

She blinked hard and shook her head a little before opening her eyes again.

There was no one there.

She must have been mistaken.

She was tired and was hallucinating.

But it had looked just like him.

As if someone had walked into her memories and projected an image of him in front of her.

But it couldn’t be.

And it wasn’t.

The figure, if it had even been a figure and not just a shadow, was not really there. The end of the street was empty.

Oscar was still discussing his mother and her incredibly difficult decision of which flowers were more appropriate for their wedding. He hadn’t even noticed her heart had jumped into her throat or that her blood had run cold.

———————���——————————————————

Hailey should have known her presence was not needed. Angelica Farrell never stopped talking long enough to let her get a word in, and after three attempts, Hailey ceased even trying.

She could tell the woman was excited for the wedding, and seemed to be pleased that it was Hailey who was marrying her only son. Hailey wondered how much she had been aware of her husband's influence in the arrangement or if she thought it was truly a love match. That her son had found someone to share his life with.

Hailey let her continue with her excitement, the older woman continuing to talk at her rather than with.

If this was what it took for her to have a quiet life, she would take it.

From what she knew, Oscar was not a cruel man and he would do his best to provide for her and any children that they would have. But still Hailey did not think she would ever love him.

Her heart belonged to Jay, whether he was walking this earth with her or had gone on to another plain. It was his and she hadn’t had the chance to ask for it back, so he had taken it with him.

He had promised to keep it safe, but it had shattered into thousands of pieces, those pieces fracturing inside her and stabbing her from the inside out. Her wounds and pain were not visible to the outside world, but the agony was true. It was with her always, waking or asleep, in the store or in the street. She imagined it would stay with her forever, although after some time, it might melt into a dull ache.

Part of Hailey wished it wouldn’t, wished it would remain as painful today as it would in years to come. The pain proved to her that it had been real, that her love for Jay and his love for her had been true. If the pain ever disappeared, the love they held for each other might disappear with it.

‘Mother, I think it is time I walk Hailey home,’ Oscar said, strolling into the front room where the pair were sitting. Apparently china patterns had not needed her fiancé’s input, it was a woman’s job.

‘Oh is that the time?’ Angelica said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘Time flies, doesn't it, Hailey.’

‘It does Mrs Farrell,’ Hailey forced a smile and a nod. The hours she had spent in this room today had anything but flown by. ‘Thank you for hosting me today,’ she said warmly.

‘Our home is your home Hailey,’ Angelica said sweetly.

The sun had not quite set as Hailey and Oscar walked down the street, the warm summer heat had stayed in the air so there were still bystanders out enjoying the last of the warmth.

Oscar was quieter on the return than he had been before, he had once again offered Hailey his arm but had chosen not to provide a running commentary as they strolled. Hailey was thankful for the peace and quiet if she was honest.

Glancing to her left as they passed the bookstore, she saw a man talking to Mrs Richards.

She yanked her gaze away.

Her brain was playing tricks on her again.

Because once again, the man looked so incredibly similar to the man who filled her dreams and her waking thoughts.

She just needed to sleep.

That would stop these visions, these lies her mind was trying to persuade her were truths.

She didn’t allow herself another look. She didn’t need to.

Another look would just prove what she already knew.

That she had imagined it.

Because why would Jay Halstead, her Jay Halstead, be in the bookstore talking to Mrs Richards? It made no sense. No sense at all. She pushed the thought from her mind as she walked down the street back to the store.

——————————————————————————

Although her father had allowed her to spend the afternoon at the Farrells, that didn’t mean he hadn’t left all of Hailey’s chores for her to do when she returned. He had closed up the store but the floor still needed to be mopped, the proceeds counted up and marked in the ledger and the trash needed to be taken out onto the street.

She wondered who he thought was going to do these things when she wed and moved out. Although the wedding didn’t bring her an ounce of joy, the thought that she could finally get away from the store brought a modicum of hope for her. A shining light in an otherwise grey sky.

She busied herself mopping the floor, trying to comprehend why her mind had decided that today was the day to provide her with hallucinations of her true love, when she should have been planning a wedding to a man who was not.

The sun had long set by the time she had put the mop away, she might have gone over the same spot multiple times as her thoughts were anywhere but in the store with her. Still, her father couldn’t complain that she hadn’t done it thoroughly. The floor was practically gleaming.

Deciding to take the trash out now, the ledger could wait until the morning so she wouldn’t have to do it by candlelight and risk dripping wax on the sheet. She grabbed the large bags waiting by the door, because taking them actually outside would have been too much for her father to do.

She only took two steps out of the door before the bags crashed to her feet.

Underneath the lamppost, his features unmistakable, was Jay.

‘Hi Hailey,’ he said.

[nanamin1117]

Yaakunaj Obstinado

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

➥ Yaakunaj Obstinado

Content warning: possible bpwf spoilers, slightly ooc Namor, tension, (highly possible) disappointing plot, cliffhanger (TBD)

Translations (Yucatec Maya): 

Yaakunaj Obstinado- Stubborn Love

Ki'ichpanech - pretty girl

In yakunaj - my love

WC: 559

A/N: I wrote this at like 3am in the morning so excuse the mistakes- but Camila Cabello’s song has been on repeat since the day it came out and Namor’s existence only fueled my big writer’s brain. Also, BARE WITH ME BC IM FAIRLY NEW WITH THIS WHOLE TUMBLR STUFF SO IDK WTH TO USE OR DO-

I had pride in my strengths; sheltering my heart from inevitable heartbreak being my strongest, until I met him—King K’uk’ulkan, ruler of the underwater city Talokan. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t fall in love with anyone, not even someone of a similar origin. Yet, here I was, across from the one who managed to break not only my pride but my walls too. His gaze was intense, so intense that I could feel it burning my skin. The queen’s plan to trade materials for Vibranium went in one ear and out the other, both of us were too focused on each other. If she wasn’t here, I would have probably thrown all of my morals out into the sea and let him take me right then and there.

“Y/n, did you hear me?” The queen asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I could feel my face heating up from being called out so suddenly. I knew there was no way of getting out of this so I had no other choice other than to be honest…

“No, my queen, I apologize. What were you saying?“ I asked politely, trying my best to mask the evident red tint on my cheeks. She gave me a stare that looked as if she was saying, I see what’s going on here, before getting up.

“Very well then, I’ll explain everything again while you walk me to my bedroom. Goodnight, King K’uk’ulkan.” She playfully smirked, leading the way back to the palace. The whole way to the queen’s bedroom, she had that smile stuck on her face—I could only imagine what might be going through her head…

Before taking my leave back to my quarters, I made sure that she went into her room safely. The whole walk to my room felt like hours, I couldn’t shake the thought of Namor out of my head. I craved his lips, his touch, his warmth. I craved him. Opening the door to my room, I am faced with the back of the very man that had been occupying my mind since the day started. 

“Namor, what are you doing here?” I asked softly, watching as he put whatever was in his hands down. 

“I came to see you ki'ichpanech. I couldn’t help but notice the way you would look at me during the meeting.” He spoke with a smug grin plastered on his face as he walked towards me. I didn't know what was worse, being caught by the queen or being caught by him, either way I wanted to bury myself in a hole. 

“Preposterous. You must be imagining things, I was looking at the ocean. You just so happened to be in front of it.” I scoffed, crossing my arms and turning my face away from him. 

“You’re not a very good liar, and even if you were being honest your eyes tell the truth about how you really feel.” Namor exposed, gently turning my face towards his. My breathing became unsteady as I met his eyes once more, the pounding of my heart ringing in my ears.

“So allow yourself to indulge in your desires in yakunaj. We both know you so desperately want to.” He smirked as his lips hovered over mine, only mere inches away from touching and yet he chose to tease me—wanting to see me cave in. “You’re insufferable…” I shakily breathe out.

Ngl I was gonna finish this, but I’ll wait to see if it blows up🤭

I might even turn it into an actual ff-

God this is so bad, I might fix it (or take it down-) in the morning idk bUT GOODNIGHT <3

[korra-northeast-germany]

Run!

Was all thst plagued your mind

Don't let him catch up!

Who knows what would happen if he's caught

Turn corners!

Throw him off your trail

Hurry!

Careful!

Be wary of your surroundings

Faster!

Hes catching up

Faster damnit!

Why are your legs moving slower you can't STOP!

Hide hide Hide!

You must find a hiding spot

Shit! Not you tripping

Oh Fuck-

"Hello my beloved queen"

It's too late.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Mammon found himself in a room he had not recognized, pictures of him plastered upon every wall some from his modeling gigs other taken at random parts of the tag wether it be at RAD or at HOL. Pictures of him and Mc littering the one part of the wall, only mc's face was cut out and instead replace with a headshot of the culprit. It frightened him. Slowly he leaves the bed to look through a note-book he had found which had the names of people Mammon were closed to crossed out. His name riddled not of the pages and Who ever ideas that desired him seemed to plan everything. He gulps. "Why would He?" The avatar shook his head. "Whatever I just gotta find a way out of he-"

"Mammon~♡" a voice called carrying in what was meant to be his breakfast, a meal which consisted of a breakfast meal you get at a restaurant. The person froze seeing his 'queen' had awoken. "well I did not expect for you to be up so soon!" He smiled. "Well I brought you breakfast. Take a seat on the bed and I'll feed you alright." Unable to protest Mammon takes a seat allowing his capture to feed him. "You know mammy I usually wouldn't take such drastic measures. But seeing you sad like this always makes my heart break" he says. Followed by a pout as he fed the greedy boy the eggs. "I know they were one of your only friends, and that's okay...right now They're watching over you from wherever they are. That's alright my little crow, cause now I'm here and I'll be taking their place."

No response. This made the captor frown. "I promise Mammon. I'll make you feel loved like never before. Whatever you want I'll get it for you. Want me to kill or harm someone all for you. Your every wish is my command my queen" he gave the avatar the world's most sincere eyes one which held 0 lies and could be trusted. Mammon only blushed "your too sweet. But...I'm going to need to make time to grieve...they were my human and best friend" greed's throat swelled. "But thank you. Even if you did take drastic means to show how much you care about me I appreciate it." A pause "but did you really need to replace pictures of them and me with well.. yourself?" "Sorry my queen I just wished it was us" "fuck that's cute"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It's been a momth of absolute silence from Mammon. At first he was happy about it no one to sure destruction in his libary but then he learned about Mc's death which made him worried. Not a single brother had seen Mammon since a month prior even Lucifer was worried. "We should look for him" mumbled Levi "I- I mean he owes me something anyway so we better find him so I can get it!" Levi's call to action was something all the brothers agreed on which lead to where Satan was now.

In front of the person who took his brother.

"I should have known it was you" the wrathful avatar would hiss. "You always seemed too have information on all of my brothers, but to find you have taken mammon from us? That is too far!" "Is it?" Those words made Satan raise his brow. "What do you mean by that!?" The person smirked. "I mean you don't deserve him, none of you do. It's clear your treatment of him is very unkind. Maybe if the 6 of you were better brothers he wouldn't feel the need to confine and vent too me. Oh and before you ask about his return, that won't happen unless he chooses so and right now he is not willing to see any of you."

"You're lying!"

"Am I? Or are you too blinded by your rage to see the truth? Mammon is happy with me, more than he ever was with you" the lower demon could sense the avatars wrath acting up. "It took you a month before you to even bothered looking for him. What kind of brother you are"

"We thought-"

"Shut up. I should have you killed" the yandere hisses. " But alas my queen wishes for his kin to be alive healthy and happy" he hum. Responding to Satan's glare with a deadly one of his own. "Now leave me and my queen alone unless you want to go the same route as MC" an evil smile crept up up on the lower demon, one that me an serious business. This forced Satan to leave, he did not wish too die not at the hand of a demon lower than he. He'll get mammon back! He know he Will!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆���☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Being hugged by the 4 born really shocked Mammon, his grip tugt s he'll as he cried into his shoulder. Demanding his brother never leave him never again. "Oh gee what's gotton into you?" He would question the younger male. "You were gone for so long mammon! And your crazy boyfriend threatened me and said we were bad brothers do you really believe us to be bad brothers?!"

Mammon really wants to say yes but didn't not when his brother was like this. "You aren't., the nicest but i don't hate ya guys I could never" he pet his head. "But what did to me the stem you with?" "He threatened to kill me!" Mammon froze burrowing his brow before taking his brother and stomping over to his boyfriend. "What is this talk about you threatening my little brother!" He demands. Ink to watch his beloveds return to that of s kicked puppy. "I just wanted them to not treat you so badly and threatened that if they were to bother you e hen you don't wanna talk to the then I would uhm...kill them I'm sorry mams"

"Meph you really are the world's cutest yandere. "But no more threatening my family or friends or else no more cuddles. "noooooo!!!!!!"

A/n: I think I accidentally wrote fluff. Also b4 u ask how Mc died, meph made it look like they died naturally

[lowlyroach]

338) The Trunk

My chest is tight

Overloaded heart on stimulants

Every time I leave you it is as if a year has passed

Chasing fresh memories as if looking through stained glass

A hazy fog of chemical love

I talk to God again on the walk back to my car

We're in this one deep, huh, you fucking cunt

I'm going to tear you from heaven

And beat you with my own two hands

Is everything predetermined?

If you knew all of me would you be able to know

I would continue choosing you?

I sprint under the lamp post again

We walk to the car

You yell at me as I set everything up

Playfully, of course

I climb in the trunk with you

You are the greatest feeling in the world

How long was a smile plastered on my face?

Until my cheeks grew sore and still I smiled

Oh, sweet everything of mine, touch me more

Watch my skin react as you melt me

Abs and chest tensing

Deep breaths as if I could engulf the feeling into my lungs

Leave me fluttering

Eyes unfocused as I come to

Blink the feeling away

Come back and I see your face

Looking at my body

Eye contact

You lean in, try to peer at me in the shadows

In these moments I really feel as if it's just us

That you are mine

I am becoming more deluded

But God, do I wish it was you

Every day waking up to this

You stare at the plate in your hand

As if to dare the noodle to fall

And it does, as if in protest to your glare

I am a fly on the wall, here

I love watching you for hours

We talk in the car for a bit after your shift

I am exhausted, can you tell?

Yet you light that fire in me, still

You teach me how to play rummy in the trunk

I crush you three times in a row!

DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!

I stare at you as you shuffle the cards

Are you doing the same when I do?

Isn't this so cruel?

Am I digging a grave

Or bathing in heaven's grace

Which answer is worse?

Which one of us will leave first?

When will the light fade?

Or the dirt smother me, permanently?

You can't focus when I massage your back

Are you melting?

Your eyes flutter when I play with your hair

Is my touch too much?

Relax into my hands

I want to make you feel amazing

Let me touch something as beautiful as your skin

Let me feel like I can be good

Your legs are sore, but you won't let me touch them

Won't you let me make you feel better?

You are worth the weight of the world

I will carry the sky for you

Won't you let me show you?

Unconditional love.

Perhaps, it feels like that

Maybe there is a condition somewhere I haven't found yet

I suppose I was trying to, once

In ten years I haven't found one

You tell me to keep my hands to myself

I don't have to massage you

Of course not, I know that

I want to, so badly

But you say it's enough

So I resist touching you

Keep my hands to myself

You set them aside

And you melt me with yours

I hastily take off my shirt

Please, touch my skin

I want to feel it

Do you have fun with me at your mercy?

I can't do anything as you trace me, there

I am a speck in the infinity you wield

Do you see me begging wordlessly?

Your hands cup my face

Oh, how could heaven ever compare?

Pinch my cheeks

Oh, how will I resist?

I can't

I won't

You would crumble any wall I set

You are the force of nuclear detonation

A black hole's gamma radiation

Leave yourself in my every cell

I will carry them with me forever

You slap my face lightly

Oh my god

wow

I didn't think I'd be into that

Hit me harder

You tug on my hair

How are you doing that?

I've never even been into anything close to this before

Slap me

Grab my chin and turn me to face you

I am nothing in your hands

You are creator and destroyer

I don't think you understand

Good GOD! HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?

Please slap me more

I am your play thing

Ugh

Shape me like clay

I will take whatever form you desire

Do you enjoy making me squirm beneath your hands?

A tsunami across my torso

Sink me into the blanket

Let's never leave

Won't you be a statue here, with me?

Blissful harmony

We walk back and you mention

You wanted Friday to be the last time

You planned to never speak to me again

You say, you can't stay away

Neither can I

Is this right?

Are we both avoiding the truth?

I grab two hugs before I leave

I cry on the drive to work in the morning

I am up for 44 hours before I find sleep again

It was worth every second

Every second in this heaven

I'll shoot for the stars

If i miss I'll just

Die alone, in the vacuum of space

[wkemeup]

The Offer

summary: Zemo offers to sell the Winter Soldier in exchange for information. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 3k warnings: vaguely implied unwanted sexual contact a/n: this is based around the Madripoor scene in TFATWS ep 3, particularly Zemo’s suggestion of “he will do anything you want.”

“You must maintain your cover,” Zemo’s voice rang in your ear, drowning out the heavy bass of loudspeakers from the club down the hall. “If you break character, they will know... and they will kill us.”

You held your breath; arms folded tight across your chest, nails digging into the exposed skin on your biceps. It did little to ease the strain within your muscle as you watched Bucky standing guard at the edge of the room, his eyes overcast in a cold, emotionless haze. Ready for command. Empty of the needs and desire that made him human. Portraying the shadow from his past he was so desperate to escape.

Slowly, you shifted your weight on heels sharp enough to pierce skin. The clothes Zemo had dressed you in were unforgiving, exposing every dip and curve on your body, though you supposed that was his intention. You were meant assume the role of a wealthy arms dealer known only as Lilith, a woman whose reputation for the bedrooms of Madripoor outweighed even that of the weapons at her disposal. An affinity for the finer things in life, Zemo had snickered to himself. Sex, drugs, and power.

Bucky’s eyes shifted to the floor near your feet. You could tell he was watching you from his peripherals though his expression remained vacant. It was shocking to see him like this again, worse that he seemed to fall back into the role of the Winter Soldier so easily – like he’d never truly believed he could put his past to rest at all.

Zemo paced at the center of the room, discussing terms while Selby lounged on the couch. Her brazen comfort in a room of powerful agents on the dark market told you she had more leverage than any of you anticipated. You felt for the slight weight of the gun strapped at your thigh, keeping careful watch of the guards stationed just outside the door. The four of you were easily outnumbered and outgunned, even with Bucky throwing himself back to the Winter Soldier.

Sam caught your eye across the room, his face stern enough to communicate his uncertainty. He didn’t trust Zemo anymore than you did. The man was responsible for dozens of deaths, including the King of Wakanda, and he’d done the Avengers no favors by planting a seed of war between the most powerful people on the planet. You tried not to follow Sam's gaze when his eyes flickered to Bucky, a softening in his brow to see months of progress virtually erased within seconds.

“What’s the offer?” Selby’s voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t realized how focused you’d been on Bucky until you began to notice the music thumping through the walls and the scent of stale beer lining the floors – a disorienting state amongst precious stole artifacts and original paintings.

Zemo stood from his chair, crossing the room. He picked up a relic from the center table, admiring the shiny copper edges as he tossed it in the air. It nearly slipped from his grip and he shuttered out an apologetic wince at Selby before placing it back on the table. You rolled your eyes.

Adjusting the fur lined collar of his jacket, Zemo circled the edges of the room. He came to a pause over Bucky’s shoulder, gaze slowly trailing down his frame, tracing over the lines on Bucky's face as if he were studying for imperfections. A sinister smirk curled at his lips before he turned back to Selby.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum,” Zemo bargained, waiting for her interest to peak before he continued. She shifted in her seat; a brow raised. His lips curved in a devious grin enough to make your stomach twist. “And we’ll give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

Bucky didn’t so much as flinch, his stare maintaining the same emptiness you saw the day on the bridge when he’d been muzzled by his captors and made to be a weapon. Nothing in his expression gave way to whatever was going through his mind and part of you wondered if he’d allowed himself so far into this role again, that he’d embraced the cold arms of the numbness it carried. It was easier than allowing himself to feel any of the rage that was rapidly boiling under your skin, you supposed.

But then, Zemo’s knuckles grazed at Bucky’s cheek. Lingering over unshaven stubble, a shadow along his jaw. A delicate touch though it seemed to burn as if steam could rise from the contact alone.

Zemo turned, grinning at Selby. “He will do anything you want.”

It was so impossibly subtle, you weren’t sure anyone else had noticed, but Bucky’s jaw clenched. The muscle shifted the shadows on his face, his breathing coming to a stop as his chest no longer carried the steady rise and fall under layers of leather and Kevlar. Zemo’s hand moved along Bucky’s jaw, fingers dangerously close to his lips, and you felt for the outline of the gun strapped to your thigh.

"Anything?" Selby inquired. Her tone was even though her eyes widened just enough, the dark of her pupils expanding as she glanced over Bucky's frame.

"When he is properly activated, the Soldier is incredibly–" Zemo paused, tapping the edge of Bucky's chin, "–eager to please. There's nothing else inside that brain of his except his mission. What that mission is, is entirely up to whoever recites the triggers."

“Fascinating,” Selby grinned as she slowly stood from her perch.

You followed her stride with every agonizing step towards Bucky. Just as she crossed in front of The Smiling Tiger, Sam’s gaze met yours. He narrowed his eyes, the slight shake in his head barely noticeable. He must have seen you reach for your gun – an instinct to protect Bucky from the demons of his past, a tangible weapon you hadn't been able to use against the monsters in his sleep. It took every ounce of your strength to relax away from the comforting metal.

You watched as Selby’s eyes roamed over Bucky – hungry, and like a vulture, she licked her lips. As she began to circle his frame, gaze trailing down from his shoulders, to his thighs, down to his feet, never once daring to meet his eyes, you found yourself inching closer. Bucky’s hand curled into a fist so tight his nails broke skin in his right hand, blood prickling at his palm. And still—his expression remained stoic, unfeeling. A paralyzing thought crossed your mind and you questioned if this dance was a familiar one – the art of being sold to another human being.

Selby paused as she faced him; examining the features on his face as if he were something other than human – a prize to be won, a possession to own, a trophy to show off.

“And he’s still in working condition? After all these years?” she inquired toward Zemo, standing so dangerously close to Bucky. His stare focused straight ahead, far beyond the wall across the room as if he could burn holes into the plaster.

"He's quite impressive," Selby murmured. Slowly, her hand reached towards his face.

Your grip was around her wrist before anyone realized you’d crossed the room. She flinched, startled by the vice-like hold wrapped around her wrist and a pained sort of whine escaped. She flexed her fingers and still, you held your ground.

“Is there a problem, Lilith?” Selby smirked, curiosity glaring as her eyes flickered between you and Bucky. You said nothing and yet, her lips parted in understanding. “Oh, I see. You control him. Don’t you, dear? He belongs to you.”

You tasted bile on your tongue – the very thought of owning Bucky as if his agency was not even in question made you sick to your stomach. Your grip tightened on Selby’s wrist and you would have broken it clean in two if you had the strength for it. But one look at Zemo and the cautious gaze upon his face, and you forced yourself to swallow back the venom in your mouth. You didn’t allow the disgust to touch your features or the shame to burn hot into your neck. Lilith would not be fazed by the selling of a weapon—even if that weapon were a man with heart so heavy, so full and so kind, he could hardly carry its burden on his own.

“Make your deal, Selby,” you hissed in an accident belonging to the weapons dealer you portrayed, “then, you can play with your toy. Until we have our intel, hands off the product.”

You released Selby’s wrist and she stepped back a few paces. She slid her left hand over the red marks forming over her skim, gingerly massaging at the area and still – the grin did not falter from her cheeks. Impressed, intrigued. She seemed inclined to ask you more about your bond to the Winter Soldier when you stepped in front of Bucky, blocking her view as she unabashedly stared down her hopeful new possession. Sam and Zemo exchanged a glance, though their expressions did not carry the weight their eyes did.

Behind you, you could hear Bucky exhale a heavy a breath, could practically feel as his fists released to be out of the woman’s eye line. It was short lived, of course, as all things in Madripoor were. A gunshot pierced through the window and lodged itself into Selby’s head.

***

You woke with a sudden start, the sticky smell of stale beer still on your skin as you jolted up on an unfamiliar bed. The room was vaguely a blur thanks to the pounding ache in the back of your head, but you could see enough to know it was not a place you recognized. To your left, the bed was untouched; sheets perfectly pressed as if they’d never been laid in at all. Glancing down, you saw you were still wearing the dress from the club, makeup smeared over your face and onto the pillows. You brushed at your cheeks to remove the mascara stains.

At the end of the bed, laid a fresh pair of clothes. Blue jeans and a black pullover. You sighed, pressing a hand over the soft fabric and bringing it to your face. It smelled of lavender and vanilla – fresh and inviting compared to the sweaty stale air of the night club.

The night before was mostly a blur. You didn’t remember much after Selby was killed; only Bucky’s hands on your waist, pulling you back towards the door as you tried to locate the shooter. You’d kicked off your heels and sprinted next to him in your bare feet – a man who could challenge the speed of moving vehicles and he was running in line with you and Sam while gunshots reined from every direction. Self-preservation was not a concept in Bucky’s vocabulary.

Your feet were bloodied by the time you caught your breath again and within the impossibly small moment you took to pause, an assailant had knocked you out from behind. Cold darkness. Instantaneously. After that, you could only catch vague memories of Bucky lifting you into his arms and Sharon Carter’s voice. But you hadn’t seen Sharon in years. Not since the aftermath of Vienna. The theory didn’t make much sense.

You felt along the dresser for your gun, only to find it empty. With a tired groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, hoping you could find Bucky or Sam before you found trouble. Your feet were wrapped in bandages carrying a slight pink color on the soles – courteous of Zemo’s ridiculous heels you’d left behind the chaos and the mile worth of pavement you’d run barefoot on.

The chill of the hardwood floors was a relief on the undersides of your feet, but you hadn’t accounted for the dizziness from your concussion to take over once you stood. The room went dark and you began to sway, trying to feel for the bed behind you, when suddenly you hard footsteps rushing into the room.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing out of bed?” Bucky’s arms wrapped at your waist, holding you steady. He guided you back to the bed, helping you to sit on the edge as you regained your vision. He sat down beside you, keeping a hand on your arm to help ground you as you focused on the permanence of the room, the sturdiness of solid ground.

“What happened?” you sighed, pressing your palms to your eyes. Your head was still ringing from the blow you took the night before. When you finally allowed yourself to adjust to the sunlight in the room, you turned to face Bucky. He was dressed in a plan black t-shirt and jeans; his Winter Soldier attire hung in the corner of the room.

“Sharon happened,” Bucky chuckled with a short shake of his head. You thought you might be surprised at his answer, and somehow, you weren’t at all. Bucky softened, his fingers brushing at the hem of your dress. “You should change into something more comfortable. Sharon left some clothes for you but um... you were pretty out of it last night and I didn’t want to... um...”

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled at him as you placed your hand on top of his. You squeezed at his fingers, curling under his palm against your thigh. For a moment, you nearly lost yourself in the sunlit reflection of blue within his eyes – the delicate intricacies of a complex man. So impossibly sweet and kind in the daylight; cold as stone in the night under the guise of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky helped you to stand, giving you time to adjust to the sting of healing wounds on the soles of your feet. He turned his back to give you privacy, though he kept close enough that you could grab hold of his shoulder for support. He pushed the clothes down the bed for you to reach easily.

Slowly, ignoring the ache in your body, you slid the zipper down your spine, letting the dress fall to a heap at your feet. You tried not to notice how Bucky’s shoulders tightened at the sound, his stance a little less balanced at the fallen fabric. Gingerly, you dressed yourself in the jeans and pullover Sharon had provided for you, trying to stifle a wince as you shifted on your feet. Bucky’s head tilted at your whimper, his instinct fighting to turn to you, to help you, but he held himself still.

When you were done, you reached for the necklace at your bedside, one you hadn’t worn on the mission but you carried it with you wherever you went – the last token you had of a distant life before the Avengers. Sam had kept it in his pocket in Madripoor.

“Would you mind?” you called softly, tapping a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He turned cautiously, almost timid in his movements, and you smiled at him as he held his hand out. The delicate gold chain dropped into his palm – a beautiful contrast to the black metal, in mirror to the detailing work along his shoulder.

Before you could turn your back to him, Bucky stepped closer. He held each side of the necklace in his hands and brought them around the back of your neck. This close, you could smell the bar soap he’d used that morning, you could see the lines of scruff along his jaw he hadn’t been able to shave.

When he clasped the chain, he stepped back slowly, but only enough to admire his work. He brushed your hair away from your collar, a ghosted smile on his lips at he touched the pendent at the center. This wonderful, beautiful man who learned to find comfort in touch again, who sought you out when it felt impossible to reclaim that part of him. Memory of the night before etched into your mind and you swallowed back the lump in your throat.

“Bucky?”

He smiled a little wider, focused on tracing his fingers along your jaw, brushing away your hair. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

Bucky paused, his touch upon you skin turning near to stone before he pulled away. The smile he’d worn slowly faded from his lips, the cold rush of reality piercing through the tender moment, and you hated yourself for being the cause of such pain. Bucky sighed, sinking down onto the bed, his hands gripped tight to the edge of the mattress.

“Not sure there’s much to say, doll,” Bucky exhaled.

You sat beside him, close enough for your thigh to brush in line with his. He looked down at the little space between you, his eyes fluttered closed at the contact – the grounding sensation of welcomed touch.

“You're not him anymore, Bucky,” you said softly, setting your hand over his own. “No one is ever going to control you or... or own you again, okay? They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to... not anymore. You’re free. You know that, don’t you?”

Bucky nodded, though it was slow, almost aching. He squeezed at your hand, pushing out a pained smile as he looked at you. “I do.”

You reached towards him with your free hand, cupping the side of his cheek where Zemo had touched him the night before. You traced your thumb over his jaw line, tingling over the short hairs on his skin. So beautiful and lovely after decades suffering under the hands of cruel men.

“You know I’d kill anyone who tried, right?”

Bucky chuckled at that and you were grateful to see the lines by his eyes again, the smile pushing bright into his cheeks. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know that, too.”

He leaned forward a pressed a kiss to your temple. Short and lingering and not nearly long enough. But it was welcomed and warm and enough.

—

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[edie-baby]

Can we please have a smut with Lando where he’s never been that dominant before and decides to try it one evening

whiskey soaked cherries | lando norris smut

summary: Lando Norris decides one day that he'd like to try dominating his partner, and well, he's actually pretty good at it.

word count: 4541

warnings: swearing, smut; face sitting, choking, bound wrists, daddy + sir kink, hint of a breeding kink, aftercare

notes: i'm sorry this took so long, i kind of got carried away

There were always a few indicators when Lando Norris was thinking. It was a common occurrence, the man was an over-thinker till the end, yet it meant he never did anything without being sure. There were levels to his thinking moods however, and they usually gave away the true depth of his immersion in his brain.

Level one: glazed eyes, and slow reaction times. Often when you spoke to him during this time, it would take multiple seconds for him to even acknowledge that you had said something, the journey from his head to in front of you could take a while, but he was usually pretty easy to distract.

Level two: sitting completely still and not blinking. The first few times you saw him lost in thought like this, you were unnerved. He could stare at a spot on the floor for five minutes, unblinking, the only indicator of life being the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic breaths falling from his lips were reassuring in this state. You had noticed once that he was so lost in thought he didn’t breathe for multiple moments. Your head was against his chest, the subtle movements you had felt for many hours before that ceased, and after a few too many seconds, he gulped down a gasping breath. This level was usually reserved for racing thoughts, strategies and tracks all consuming within his chaotic brain.

Level three: mindlessly walking, parted lips, slow, laboured breaths. You had seen Lando like this only once, walking around his house for nearly an hour, never reacting to your voice, never stopping for longer than it took for him to pivot and turn back around at a dead-end hallway. The day after you saw him like this, he had asked you to move in with him.

Level four: laid still on the floor, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, lights on. You had only heard of this Thinking Lando, Jon and Charlotte having caught him laid in offices or empty rooms on the floor, looking like a perfectly posed corpse. You questioned him about it, and he had never had a true answer for you, something about the rigidity of the floor was grounding whilst his closed eyes let him wander as far as he wished.

But level five, you weren’t entirely sure existed. So, when you arrived home after work one day to a completely dark house, curtains and blinds drawn with every source of light turned off or obscured, you were rightfully shit scared.

“Lando? Honey, I’m home!” You called, your voice wavering slightly as it bounced off the walls of the entryway, travelling through the house in eerie echoes.

“In the living room.” Lando replied, his voice oddly composed, and you began traversing though the house, avoiding walls and furniture from memory. You were tempted to use the flashlight on your phone to get an idea of what was going on, but figured you trusted your boyfriend enough.

“Hey baby, what’s with the lights?” Your voice was laced with confusion, eyes trying to find the silhouette of the man speaking from somewhere within the room, but you were completely lost.

“I’ve been thinking.” He simply replied, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath fanned on the back of your neck. You thought his voice had travelled from the other side of the living room, but there was right behind you. You tried leaning back, desperate for some contact in the makeshift sensory deprivation room you had found yourself in, but he was gone. You jumped when you felt his hand brush against your calf, his other hand tracing up the outside of your leg to your thigh. You sighed in relief, the barest of touches from him always made you feel alight with pleasure.

“You don’t usually think like this. What’s on your mind?” You asked, voice breathy as you felt the constantly moving palms on your legs, the skirt you had worn that day a barrier between where you really wanted him, and the rough calloused hands that left goosebumps in their wake. He didn’t dare move the hem of your skirt, choosing to roam over it with lazy strokes.

“I want to try something with you. But, I need your full consent, and we need ground rules.” Lando replied, the languid strokes turning to loving touches, the brief brush of his fingertips against a scar on your knee, the same fingers caressing a path down your calf to remove your shoes.

“You know I’d trust you to do anything. Anything you want to do, I consent to 100%.” Your voice was sure, strong and assured. You felt Lando’s fingers still for a bare moment, a long intake of air telling you Lando was revelling in the romantics of your words. He often did that when you spoke about your admiration for him, honey-sweet words warming his heart like nothing else.

“No, I need you to listen to this. I want your explicit consent.” Lando continued, his words firmer, causing anxiety to swirl in your stomach for a brief moment before you realised exactly who he was. It was Lando, your chaotic boyfriend who screamed instead of laughing. A man you had been hopelessly in love with for nearly three years, who treated you like a goddess, who worshipped you for your flaws as much as your perfections.

“Okay. So tell me.” You stated. There was no question, no anxiety, no confusion in your words. Because you knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew he knew you just as well, if not better. His fingers, which had still been brushing against your skin like a whisper suddenly gripped into the skin of your thighs, a comforting presence as he prepared to let the words tumble from his lips.

“I want to be in charge. I want to have complete control over you. For you to submit to me. Be one hundred percent mine to do whatever I want to do. I want to tie you up, have you completely at my mercy. I want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t take it anymore. And then I’m going to give you one more, because I can, and because I get to decide what happens to you. I want to drive my cock into your pussy until tears of pleasure stain those gorgeous cheeks of yours. I want to spank you until you can no longer sit down. I want to wrap my hand around that little throat of yours until you see the stars I see in your eyes every day. I want to cover your body in marks, fingerprints, hickeys, bites, whatever I can to make sure everyone knows who the fuck you belong to. And after all that, I want to cum inside this pussy, because it’s mine and no one else’s.” Lando growled, his grip on your thighs wavering as he detailed his fantasy, one that you were all too happy to bring to life.

“Yes. I consent. To all of it. I’m yours Lando, and I trust you with every fibre of my being.” You spoke clearly, wanting him to hear just how willing you were to help him fulfill the dreams he had obviously been thinking of all day.

At your reassuring words, Lando surged forward, his eyes obviously more adjusted to the dark room than yours as he found your lips with ease, finally indulging you in your own desires of finally having his lips against yours after a day spent apart. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, an involuntary gasp leaving your mouth and allowing Lando’s tongue to move slowly against yours. His hands, still with a grip on your thighs, slid them apart, which allowed him to shuffle further forward on his knees.

His lips travelled to your neck, nipping, licking and sucking on the flesh that he knew would make you whimper. Your hands, previously resting on his muscled forearms, reached for the lamp next to you, your eyes desperate to see the hungry look you knew was plastered on his face. The warm light flickered on, bathing his tanned skin in rays of honey-gold that only served to make him look more like a God among men than he already seemed to you.

“Get up. Go to the bedroom. When I get there, I want you naked and spread on the bed for me. You’re at my mercy tonight, darling, so you best not disobey or there’ll be hell to pay.” Lando growled, the intrusion of the light having snapped the remaining thread that held the usually sweet, albeit passionate and hungry, man that you had been sleeping with for so long.

Your breath caught in your throat, the dominance Lando was showing shot heat and pleasure to your core in a way you had never experienced. You stood quickly, beginning a fast walk toward your shared bedroom. Charged nerves surged through your body when you heard Lando’s steps trailing behind you, your hands moving in a frenzy to rid the clothes covering the body Lando was about to devour. When you finally got into your room, you only had a black lace thong remaining, so you threw it across the room and dove onto the bed just in time for the shirtless Brit to appear in the doorway with an impressed look on his features.

“I’m surprised, and almost disappointed. I was sure I’d get to punish you tonight, but I guess I’ll have to leave that for another day. Look at you though, all laid out and ready for me like the needy little whore you are. I bet you can’t fucking wait to be wrapped around my cock, to be filled up with my cum and feel it drip down your thighs.” Lando’s words had you keening, your body almost curling in on itself as he spoke all the words, pressed all the buttons that you didn’t know you had. You already felt like you were dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, and from the way Lando’s eyes were transfixed on your pussy, you were sure he could confirm your hypothesis.

He started towards you, kicking himself off the door frame with a smirk that would make you jump his bones at any given moment. His gaze was predatory, planning all the different ways he could tear you apart and put you back together before you would be sobbing with pleasure, overstimulated to the point of pleasing pain. Lando stopped as his shins met the side of the bed, staring down at you like prey. You whimpered, this new dominant side of your boyfriend was ruining you, and you wished for it to never end.

“Please, Lando, touch me.” You whimpered, skin alight with anticipation and wanton lust, your hairs standing on end, waiting for the prickling feeling to dissipate with the touch of his skin against yours.

“Please Daddy. And I’ll decide when you get touched.” Lando growled, the title more of a command than a suggestion, and that alone had your body curling.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” The name tasted like whiskey soaked cherries on your tongue; all sweet and spicy, innocent and sensual, an invitation and an offering. A spark behind Lando’s eyes let you know exactly how much he liked the keening way you spoke, and in barely a moment, his body was covering yours.

Your legs already opened wide for him, allowing his hips to slot in right between your thighs, your wet core lining up with his denim covered cock, already straining against the material purely from words spoken and the way the light from the lamp in the corner made your pussy glisten with its juices. His hands beside your head caged you in, holding the weight of his torso and unbridled dominance from crushing you.

Your breath came out shaky, bottom lip quivering in anticipation of feeling his lips on yours, every muscle in your body working to keep you from launching upwards and taking exactly what you wanted. Lando granted those wishes, diving down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, the frustration he usually held back while fucking you finally manifesting itself as hot, fiery passion. He needed this release, and you were the perfect vessel to release into. Every nip of his teeth, stroke of his tongue and bare touch of his fingers against your naked skin, it was too much and not enough.

“I need you to tell me if you need me to stop, we need a safeword. Use it if I go too far, or if I hurt you, or if you just need a second. Because I don’t want to lose myself in you and not realise I’m doing something wrong.” Lando spoke, breathless from the head spinning kiss, and you almost cooed, there was really nothing Lando could do to you that would hurt you, and it was sweet that he still didn’t understand that fact, but you followed along for his peace of mind.

“Orange.” You replied, almost instantly. The colour was so deeply ingrained in your relationship that you felt it both fitting and comforting, and Lando agreed as he nodded along, repeating the word in his mind and tying alarm bells and stop signs to it.

“Good. Now sit on my face.”

“I’m sorry what?” You squeaked, the request having given you whiplash, and as you stared into Lando’s eyes, no hin of remorse or asking, you realised the man was dead fucking serious.

“Did I stutter?” Lando asked again, his eyes glaring at your face as you continued to try and process the last seventeen seconds, but when your body was flipped from lying comfortably against your mattress to straddling a muscled chest, you realised you’d have to be a lot quicker to keep up with Lando tonight.

“If I have to ask you one more time, you won’t like what happens.” Lando growled, the deep tones of his domineering voice filling the room and hanging heavily in the air. You looked down to his face, his chin barely five centimetres from your pussy, and decided it was now or fucking never. So you shuffled awkwardly up the bed, apparently too slow for Lando, because he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged your body to exactly where he wanted it. Your dripping core suspended above him, his nose brushing your clit each time your thighs spasmed in your pleasure.

“Is this okay Daddy?” You whispered, your hands gripping the headboard in front of you like a lifeline. Lando’s entire body spasmed, his arms tensing around your thighs and pulling your wet cunt to his face just as a guttural moan tore from the depths of his chest, his arms shaking with the force of containing whatever beast had just been awoken inside of him.

Lando ate you out with a ferocity you had never expected a man to possess, his tongue lapped, tasted, prodded and fucked through your folds like a man starved. His nose brushed your clit every so often, jolting your hips and causing you to ride his face until a swift slap warmed your ass cheeks.

“Sorry Daddy.” You mumbled, embarrassment warming your cheeks as the pleasure built up much faster and harder than ever before. Lando slid one of his calloused digits into your cunt, his mouth moving to focus on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves while you clenched around his fingers with a passion.

“You better not cum until I say you can.” Lando’s voice was muffled, but you understood exactly what he meant. Your whimper that followed made Lando chuckle, and you moaned as the vibrations and exhaled breath hit your core and made your entire body convulse, the pleasure was blinding, but your brain was fixated on not cumming until Lando allowed you to.

Your body was so hot with pleasure, your vision coated white to the point you didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed, and your perception of time had vanished long ago. Lando could have been eating you out for five minutes or five hours, you had no clue anymore, all you knew was that it felt so good, and it was Lando making you feel this way.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck. If you keep making those sounds I might cum before you even touch me.” Lando’s voice brought you back to reality, as you had been so lost you didn’t realise you had been moaning, the sounds of pleasure verging on screams as you passed ‘about to cum’ and entered ‘about to pass out’.

“You make me feel so good Daddy. So fucking good, shit.” Your reply was garbled, moans and whimpers cutting off words. Lando hummed, his lips latching onto your clit and sucking exceptionally hard as his fingers curled just the right way, and you knew you were a goner.

“Cum now baby girl.” Lando mumbled, syllables lost to the flesh of your pussy, but you got the message. The relief that coated your body was like cold water on a hot summer day, drenching your screaming senses in a blanket of calm, your vision returning in flashes of colour, your ears ringing with high pitched screams, ones which you realised after a moment were your own sounds of pleasure. Lando continued his ministrations as you came down, prolonging your pleasure while you regained consciousness and became fully aware of what was happening around you.

Lando stopped, his eyes opening to see you already staring down at him in awe, and he helped you move from your position over his head to laying beside him on the bed, your skin already shining with a thin coat of sweat.

You looked over at your boyfriend, disbelief in your eyes as you stared at the wetness covering the bottom half of his face, and some of his neck. He looked smug as ever, a sliver of your young boyfriend shining through the dominant facade he had on tonight, but as soon as you started picking out the familiar pieces, his eyes turned cold again, the smirk being replaced with a tensed jaw. Your heart stopped for a moment, the one-eighty made your pussy flutter around nothing, and suddenly you were painfully aware of just how empty you felt.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, eyes wide and innocent, your bottom lip pouting as you looked up at Lando, hoping to run your hands across his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath the taut skin, to drag your nails across his thighs, dig your fingers into his skin as he fucks you.

“Do you want to try asking that again?” Lando replied, his tone almost patronising as he looked at you, practically vibrating with desperation to touch him. It filled him with unbelievable pride, to have you so wanting just to feel him, it stroked his ego more than winning any Grand Prix ever could.

“I’m sorry sir. Can I please touch you? I want to make you feel good too.” You whimpered, the new title falling from your lips naturally, and though he hadn’t answered you, or granted you permission to touch him, he pounced.

His lips collided with yours, sharing the taste of you in the kiss and you moaned at the sensation, your nails reaching up to claw at Lando’s back. His hands where everywhere, grabbing your tits with rough hands, flicking your nipples with calloused skin, gripping your hips with intent to bruise, desperate to leave the evidence of his claim on you. His lips traced the familiar path to your jaw, up to your ear where he sunk his teeth into the lobe, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

Except the sweet nothings tonight were anything but.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum. Watch it drip out of you and then fuck it back into you with my fingers. Gonna make you a mummy, huh? Have you walking around the paddock with my baby in you. That way everyone knows you’re mine and that I was the one that fucked you so good.” The filthy words being fed right into your ear, along with the strong grip on your hips and the rolling of Lando’s hips pressing his bulge into your core was going to make you go feral.

“Fuck me, sir. Put your baby in me please. Wanna be a mummy for you.” You purred, the words rolling off your tongue in waves that sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He leant back, sat back on his haunches as he took in the sight of your body, still trembling slightly from the powerful orgasm. He slowly undid his belt, your eyes trained on the movements his hands made, biting your lip as you got one step closer to seeing his cock, a sight you could and would never tire of. With his belt gripped tightly in his hands, Lando made a decision he would never regret.

He scooped your hands up in one of his, the other holding the belt, and positioned your hands above your head, fingers brushing against the headboard. He looped the belt through the wrought iron, fastening the leather around your hands tight enough to keep them there, but not tight enough to do any damage to you. You tugged on the restraints lightly, pouting when you found there wasn’t enough give to touch Lando while he fucked you into the mattress.

Lando gave the restraints a few investigative tugs, and when there was little movement and he was satisfied with the results, he leaned back, staring down at you yet again. You were starting to think he was getting more enjoyment out of just staring at you than anything else.

With heavy breathing and the occasional squeak of the headboard as you attempted to break free of the belt holding your wrists hostage, Lando finally began removing his sinfully tight black jeans. He pushed them down his legs with a carefree attitude, as though he had all the time in the world, whilst you were squirming around on the bed, desperate to get a look at, a hold of, a taste of what was hidden now by the thin black cotton that stretched over his painfully hard cock.

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll tie your ankles next to your wrists and fuck you like that. Is that what you want?” Lando growled, pausing in his tantalising show of getting undressed to glare at you. You halted almost immediately, the image of Lando plowing into you while your wrists and ankles were bound together. You gulped, the vision was certainly tempting, however your pussy wouldn’t be able to take such a beating.

“No sir. I’m sorry sir.” You whimpered back, your words sent shocks of electricity through Lando’s body, and having abandoned his teasing display, he tore his underwear off and climbed onto your bed in a hurry.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping a few times and letting out a shuddering sigh. His eyes cut to yours, a blazing fury warming them from the usual cool blue green to a warm green that made your pussy flutter. He slid the tip of his cock through your wet folds, biting his lower lip to contain the moans that were ready to fall past his lips. Your fists clenched around the belt, desperate for something to hold onto.

Lando thrust his hips into yours, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both moaned, the sweet relief of finally wrapping your velvety walls around his cock was overwhelming. Quite quickly, Lando set a punishing pace, his hips rolling out of you before snapping back to meet yours, his pubic bone putting delectable pressure on your clit, forcing moans out of your lips at an alarming rate.

His hands held a death grip on your hips, keeping your squirming body in its place while he used your body for his own pleasure. Your moans became louder, his hips forcing his cock deeper into your cunt, but Lando didn’t like that.

“You shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, yeah?” He spoke, his right hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, his fingers squeezing around the sides. The pressure only added to your mounting pleasure, Lando squeezing intermittently when you let out a particularly loud moan, reducing you to a pile of whimpers and pleas.

His hips began stuttering, the pleasure he was feeling overwhelming the perfect pace he had set. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him further into your hungry cunt, clenching around him like you were trying to pull his entire being into you. And maybe you were, if he kept this up, you were never going to let him out of you again.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He whimpered, the first show of your usual Lando shining through, his hips moving with a renewed vigor. You couldn’t form words, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each thrust, forcing your body higher up the bed, your arms still bound above your head. The hand around your throat squeezed harder, and for a moment all you saw were stars, the pleasure of your second orgasm ripping through your body like a tidal wave. Each atom in your body was torn apart and stitched back together with the threads of Lando’s hot seed and rough hands.

Lando pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down your thighs for a moment before he jumped from the bed, hurrying into the ensuite as quickly as he could on shaky legs. You could hear the tap running, and after a few moments, he returned with a wet rag and your favourite lotion, leaving the bottle on the side table while he cleaned the mess between your thighs, becoming entranced with the sight for another moment before he finished up, tossing the dirty cloth into the ensuite. Lando crawled up the bed to you, undoing the belt that had begun to rub your wrists raw, and with your finally free hands, you cupped your boyfriend’s cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss to stop the steam train of thoughts inevitably running through his head.

With soft hands and caring eyes, Lando began rubbing the lotion onto your red wrists, kissing the skin briefly, then leaving another sweet kiss on your lips.

“Was that okay?” He whispered, insecurity rearing its head yet again, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the nervous look he was giving you.

“More than okay, baby. That was amazing. 10/10 would try again.” You giggled, caressing his shoulders with slow hands, grateful to finally be feeling his skin again.

“Well, I wouldn’t be mad at that. I have some ideas.” Lando replied, a cheeky lilt to his voice as he laid down beside you, pulling the covers up to cover you both.

“Oh, do you now? I’m all ears.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

♡ GENSHIN IMPACT + HOW LOVE FINDS THEM ♡

➳ ft. kaeya, diluc, zhongli, tartaglia

➳ tags ;; tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol as a coping mechanism, a little angst but happy endings always, extreme kaeya bias ngl, spoilers for kaeyas story, nonsexual nudity, gn!reader 

➳ a/n ;; first time writing for genshin so if the characterization is funky.. my fault 

➳ summary ;; genshin impact characters and how i think love finds them when they find you 

ZHONG-LI

Sometimes, he admits to himself, it feels forbidden to love you. 

When love finds him, it is on the stairway of a small cottage, tucked into a corner of Liyue. It is quiet and unassuming, more importantly shared. A place you’ve decided to spend hefty mora on to live in. 

There’s a backyard and a space for a garden and there are sweet flowers that always seem to regrow after you pick them. On the walls are weapons and hunting gear but in the drawers are spare clothes and change. It’s got two stories but it’s not big. It’s a home, still. 

You’ve invited him inside, an adopted street-cat at your feet as you make dinner. Zhong-li is a working man, but he spends his days off here. You are an adventurer, strong with a big heart and bigger dreams. Your silhouette makes up all the shadows that dance on the wall and you sway to the beat of a soundless song. A smile makes the corners of your lips twitch up and you stir the pot of whatever you're making with boundless enthusiasm. 

Zhong-li would not wish godliness on anyone. He thinks about it often. Where Rex Lapis ends and where the human, the mortal Zhong-li starts is a blurred line. Humanity is a grieving thing. People live and are happy and then they pass and it is the only thing someone can guarantee. You will be born into the world tearful but you will pass silently - like a wind. 

Godliness means little is forbidden to you. Reality is something you fumble with in your clumsy hands and hope you can get right and humanity is a grieving thing. Always in that order. He knows there is no such thing as love that is truly forbidden - feelings like love and sadness and joy are things that cannot be settled by contracts or understood. They simply exist as if they are their own religion. 

Zhong-li watches you pick up a white furred cat and let it’s nose rest against yours for a brief moment. You hug it and sing to it like it is a child and when you’re done, you let it fondly nudge against your legs.

“Stop being bad and let me cook dinner,” you’ll say, like it knows. And maybe it does - Zhong-li thinks to himself that it might. It prances off and sleeps in the basket you’ve bought, covered in blankets and linens. He stares at you for a long while, his eyes dancing down your silhouette.

There is something remarkably human about love. Perhaps love is the one thing gods cannot truly get their hands on. This greed, this loneliness, this tender feeling - so soft it might fall apart in his hands. In all of his years of living, he likes to believe he has known love. For his companions and for his people. 

But this affection that soaks his bones, greedy and aching to be cared for, must be something only a human could get their hands on. He thinks he could only love you like this with his mortal body, his beating heart and dry mouth. With golden eyes that blink at you, curious to know what you’ll do or say next. If humanity is grieving, perhaps love is acceptance. Reconciliation. Maybe the reason no human complains about a short life is because they, at least once, have loved. 

He thinks he understands it briefly. If redoing everything meant he couldn’t be with you, even once, he would keep it all the same. What a sentiment. He smiles at you as you dance and the sunlight hits the bare skin of your thighs, buried in the expanse of your skin. He longs to be so close to you too. 

Remembering he can choose to be so close to you. That he can act upon this insatiable desire to be loved. It feels forbidden and unreachable. 

But it isn’t. 

He holds out his hand to you and you pause, tilting your head before taking it. He stands and wraps his arms around your waist and stares down at you with so much affection you falter. His lips press against the crown of your head. You’re warm and real.

When love finds him, it is just like this. Under the setting sun of Teyvat, harbored in his mortal body. 

TARTAGLIA 

You never wrap his wounds with care. 

The process is rough and not very quick. It must be comfortable for you to put your hands on him because you never seem to show him any mercy. He’ll enter your quarters with something like a wince. A wound - red and bleeding in his shoulder. He’s got his blazer dragged down his biceps, an uneasiness on his face as he drops into the room. You’re clearly busy doing something, but that’s never stopped him before. 

Wordlessly, he drops himself into the chair to the left of the little table in your room. He sits in it before dropping his head back, looking at you upside down. A frown etched into your features, eyes low and exasperated. You give him a look of discontent that he returns with a shit-eating grin. His heart stutters when you stand but he says it’s blood loss. You shut your book and place it on your bedside table. 

Underneath your bed is the first aid kit, which you grab - swift like ocean waves. He scoots back until he’s facing you. You stare down at him for a long while, brow furrowing. He gives you a dizzying smile. 

“You’re staring,” ― he proclaims, brunette hairs sticking to sweaty skin ― “Do you like the view?” 

You ignore him. Instead, you place your first aid kit with a slam onto the table and rummage through it. Nimble fingers quickly take out clear vials of alcohol, bandages, a pair of small scissors and some creams of your own making. He thinks you’re brilliant and he wants to tell you as much but the words feel too unruly, too soft spoken from his mouth. He stares at you for a long while, his eyes so forlorn by your lack of attention that you speak.

It’s a sigh first like the wave of a white flag. 

“Take your shirt off,” 

“Take me for dinner first at least,” 

You give him an unimpressed look. 

He replies by sliding his shirt off his shoulders with a little grunt. Worry plasters itself all over your face and you don’t make any attempt to hide it. He watches as you walk towards the opposite end of the room - grabbing a towel and a bowl of water. You clean the wound by pressing on it, even though it seems like the blood has dried. It’s rough - you’re rough with him. A sharp inhale of air makes its way through his teeth. 

You don’t apologize, nor do you want to. He watches as you clean the blood off and then inspect the wound for a long while. Afterwards, you mumble underneath your breath, speaking mostly to yourself than to him. 

“No stitches needed.. that’s good,” 

You sound so relieved his heart aches. There’s a brief moment of silence where neither of you know what to say and Tartaglia stares at you with soft eyes. There is always this longing feeling. A constancy to his need for your touch that brings him to his knees, weakens his resolve until he’s stumbling to your bedroom instead of going to see a doctor or a god. He needs you before he needs forgiveness or life. For him, loving you is an act one can only describe as selfish 

He knows this because he still comes to you like this, body bruised and battered. When your worry filled eyes look over his skin, he feels like a second rain has come. Your concern is it’s own addiction, intoxicated by it. It is selfish to want you to worry, even more so to make sure of it. 

But how else can he hold your love if not to make you look at it? How else can he know love if it’s not in the furrow of your brow or the way you push him so hard. When you get angry for him and at him. What is love if not a violence? If not teeth in the nape of his neck or your fingers on his bruises?

You rub alcohol in his wounds to clean them before taking your fingers and dipping them into a cream. It smells like mint, making his eyes water. You do this step with care, running your hands over fierce marks and scars with heartbreak written all over your eyes. 

Love must be a violence. It must be - this stinging feeling in the way you look at him like he is a dead man walking. Love must be a hurricane that rips through him. A storm, an uncentered and reckless devotion. He thinks, even if it was your hands who gave him this wound, he would ask you again to heal it. 

Tears spill at your lashes. He softens, smiles. 

“C’mere” 

You relent, give in. Exhaustion settling in your bones you let yourself be wrapped into his arms. He holds you to him, lets you be frustrated with him. He is too, would you know?

Love finds him like this, in your room. Begging you to look at him, getting drunk off the taste of your devotion. You squeeze his heart in your palms and he lets you. He would let you a hundred times over. 

KAEYA 

Sobriety is a fragile thing. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like being sober, but he spends most of his time around liquor. It’s comforting - the smell, the rush of heat - not scorching but warm, the dizziness. Kaeya doesn’t drink enough to have a drinking problem but more times than not, he wonders if there are answers at the bottom of a bottle. If maybe he chases the end of the pint, he can find answers on his own misery. 

Sobriety is.. fragile in that way. So easily he could drink himself to sleep but he has duty and responsibility. A life to live and sins to atone for but the laundry list of them just keeps growing larger. Bigger than his dexterous hands can cover for. It’s not that he’s miserable or lonely, but there is this lingering hollowness in his chest. 

On his fathers birthday, he sits on the rooftop and drinks. He takes about 3 days off, every year, just for this. He’ll sit on the rooftop of the tavern day of, legs swinging off the edge as the world becomes an array of color beneath him. His thumb is over the mouth of the wine bottle, and he moves it just to drink. 

The sound of your voice doesn’t startle him, but it makes goosebumps appear on his skin. He’s clad in a thin white dress shirt and it prickles as the breezes brushes by him. His chest is warm as you drop yourself down next to him. 

At first, all you do is sit silently. Leaning back on your palms, you watch the stars and constellations shimmer like they always do in Teyvat. He smells strongly of alcohol but it’s nothing to scrunch your nose at. He takes another drink. Unsure of how to handle his misery, his grief gracefully at all - he gives you a strained smile. 

“Has someone come to join me in my demise,” ― his voice is raspy when he speaks but he doesn’t miss a bit ― “How apt,” 

Wordlessly, you take the bottle from his hands. He’s about to argue with you to give it back but instead, he watches you take three long gulps before pouring the rest out. Shocked, he watches it drip down the tile and onto the concrete below. 

“Why’re you...” 

You don’t reply with words but instead, lay back and drag him down with you. He can’t help but wonder what you’re doing. He lays down anyway, back hitting the tile as he blinks. 

“How long do you plan on living like this?”

There’s no hidden meaning to your words. They are straightforward and laced with nothing but honesty. It makes him choke back a sob, the way you ask. Without much left to give, he cracks a barren smile. 

“What could you possibly mean?” 

Normally, you’d laugh at his despair. At his attempt at nonchalance. But you don’t, turning to your side to look at him. You reach your hand out to rest on his chest and he grabs your hand, shutting his eyes. Tears pool at his lashes but he laughs anyways. 

“Kaeya,” ― you say, rubbing his chest and scooting in close to him. He turns to face you, for real, for the first time ― “How long, Kaeya?” 

He doesn’t sob. Doesn’t cry or let himself be hurt. He gives you a misty smile and laughs as tears falls horizontal on his cheeks. You can hear his heart rate, erratic but slow. 

“When it feels like enough.. when I’m forgiven,” he tells you. 

“Whose forgiveness will it take? Dilucs?” 

He shakes his head, unsure. You press your hand onto his skin, golden even in the cold blue of night. His cheeks are in your palms, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. You sigh as you wrap an arm around his waist, loose. You bring his body to yours, letting your fingers rest in his scalp. In the nape of your neck, warm tears rolls down your shoulder. Your body is a safety like a brick house - like no wind or storm and disaster could ever take him from you. When he lets his cries turn into sobs, he mourns. 

A life he doesn’t remember but atones for. The only family he ever had. For Kaeya, love finds him like this - grieving. A loneliness tearing him apart at the seams, frayed and long forgotten. Love comes to him while he is in tatters, offering itself to him. 

“I forgive you, Kaeya,”― you repeat to him, over and over like an incantation ― “I forgive,” 

This is how love finds him, in your arms. Forgiven

DILUC 

He rests his head against your knee, body stiff after a long day. It’s a wordless evening - sky painted with a layer of pink and orange. It pours into the room in heavy waves, paints his pale skin with a warn shade of pink. His skin is warm from the heat as his shoulders slump in exhaustion. 

You drag your fingers down his scalp before letting them slip beneath the hairtie that keeps his red hairs up. You drag it slowly, carefully down his back until it’s free. Red and unkempt - tangled from days out in the wilds. You give it a quick brush through, a quiet sigh leaving your lips. 

There’s not a proper bathroom here - far out and away from the city. It’s an old house with an outhouse and dusty floors. After a particular difficult encounter with an Abyss Mage, you’d found refuge into the abandoned location. Without a bathroom, it would be hard to freshen up but you gave Diluc a playful half-grin. 

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,” 

He thought you were kidding but now the two of you are out by the lake. And this is too intimate for two people who are really only supposed to be working together. It’s too gentle, the way your fingers comb through his red hairs and the little bottled shampoo you keep in your bag. 

There’s something about the way you touch his scalp so careful that is too intimate. His shirt is somewhere inside, over the back of a chair. Pale skin that’s hot to the touch as your fingers work through each individual hair. A long, tired sigh leaves his mouth. 

“So much hair,” ― your murmur under your breath. A blush turns him hot. His father was a good man.. affectionate and caring and proper. But this is different. Too much, even ― “But it looks good on you,” 

You say it so easily. Just like how you touch him - unconcerned for what it means. For Diluc, the idea of romantic love is something awkward. It is clumsy and confusing. Love, has always been something that hurts, more than it has healed. 

But his head is resting on your thigh and you’re touching him like he’s precious. As if he’d break if you’re too rough with him. There is an intimacy in it. A well-meaning and innocent love in the shape of your fingers and how they drag against his skull. 

“...You’re so forward,” he tsks. You give him a gentle laugh, running your hands down his jaw and tilting his head back so he’s facing up at you. Your hands cradle his face with delicacy, thumb dragging across his jaw bone and admiring him. You’re being sincere, but he can’t meet your eyes. 

“You don’t like it?” you ask him. He grabs your hands and puts them away, huffing under his breath. He is childish like this, with you  and only you. No longer the Dark Knight or Master Diluc. Easy to jealousy and even easier to agitation, the kind of man who the world stops for seems to crumble at your feet. 

“No,” he replies, unusually dishonest. 

You lean forward until your arms are wrapped around his barren shoulders. He can feel your skin against his, the way your heartbeat sounds, the fanning of breath of his throat. It’s too much but he can’t move as your arms wrap around his shoulders. You know too much, see too much. There is something so all-knowing about the way you love him. How you tease him. 

Love is a worship when it finds him. You are the closest thing to heaven he has ever believed in - sheer bliss in the way your eyes linger on his silhouette. Diluc is a devout lover for you, a follower in your all-knowing religion of love. Of affection. He leans his head back again to look at you as you look down at him, smiling. 

“You’re troublesome to love, you know that?” he admits to you. You bend down to meet his lips in a kiss. Chaste. Holy 

A smile parts your lips that Dliuc finds himself mirroring. 

“Of course I do,” 

Love finds him like this, in your arms - skin to skin underneath the summer sun. Alone in the fields of tall-grass and wheat. Love finds him like a religion, so much devotion and prayer for you to keep him in your heart always. He knows he would do anything for you. 

[chiwhorei]

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[lilithbasically]

PITA

Pt. 9

*Minors DNI*

(Bakugo x Reader)

Warnings: Vanilla sex doesn't exist in my head so: spanking, quirk play, degradation, praise, oral (f receiving; don't worry, he'll have his turn later), fingering

This'll be a little different from the rest because I won't be doing Bakugo's POV for this chapter. So, it'll have a mix of Bakugo and reader reactions and feelings and whatnot.

< Prev. | Pt. 9 | Next >

_________________________________

As soon as Bakugo crossed the threshold of your bedroom, clothes were being ripped off, thrown to god knows where, and you were dropped onto your bed.

"Katsuki...please..."

"I've got you baby. Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

Ripping your panties off, he settled between your legs on his stomach and pulled your thighs over his shoulders to admire his view. Trying to pull your knees together to shield you from his eyes, Bakugo growled and kept them open.

"This is mine...don't fuckin hide from me, baby. You're beautiful."

"Katsuki...s'embarrassing...don't stare...," you murmured.

"How the fuck am I supposed to not stare, Y/N?" He asks, removing your legs to plant a kiss on your collarbone, "How am I supposed to ignore," kissing between your breasts, "how absolutely fucking gorgeous," a kiss to your hips, "you are?" Finally, pulling your legs back over his shoulders, he landed a kiss against your clit.

"Fuck, Katsukiiiii, please...I need you..."

"Y/N...you can't be saying my name like that...I'm trying to be good here, baby..."

Before you could say anything else, Bakugo started giving little kitten licks to your clit while inserting a finger into your core, making your back arch and moans fly out of your mouth.

"Fuck, Katsuki..."

Pushing a second finger into you, his mouth still focusing on your clit, he struggled to keep his composure. His dick was straining painfully against his boxers and just the sight of you was enough to set him off but he was absolutely determined to make you fall apart before he even considered his own desires. Because just like with everything else, Bakugo had to be the best.

"Goddamn, baby...please fuckin cum so I can fuck you...fuckin hell..."

"Oh god, Katsuki...fuuuuhuuuckkkk...daddy, please...please don't stop...oh god...," your hips jerking, coaxing him to give you more.

"Whatcha need, babygirl?"

"Ahh...you, daddy. Please I need you...wanna cum...fucking pleeeease...," you whined.

As soon as his lips surrounded your clit and he curled his fingers up, you fell over the edge; a moaning, writhing mess. His name falling from your lips like a prayer and he couldn't have been more in love with how you sounded.

Reluctantly pulling his mouth away, he sat back to let you catch your breath. You just tasted so fuckin good...he could keep his face buried in you for hours, and definitely fucking would at some point. When he thought about the greater reward waiting to happen though, he felt his impossibly hard cock grow even harder and twitch in anticipation.

Crawling up to hover over you, he planted sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder, up your neck, across your jaw, and finally met your lips with his. "You good, baby?"

Still panting and coming down, all you could think about was Katsuki's dick stretching and filling you. Unable to form words, you meet his gaze and give him a small nod.

Breathing a small chuckle, he reached his hand up to tuck stray hairs behind your ear, "Sorry, baby. You need to use your words for daddy."

Licking your lips, you finally find the ability to speak, "I'm perfect, Katsuki. Please...please fuck me..."

"Fuck, Y/N...," he breathed.

Lining up with your dripping core, Bakugo starts to slowly slide into you. He knows he's big so he tried to take his time even though his body was screaming at him to just fucking impale you. When you rock your hips up into him, any minuscule semblance of restraint he had was gone. Slamming his hips against you, he sheathed his length into you in one fluid motion.

You couldn't help it. He'd built you up so fucking much and you needed to feel him so bad that when the tip of his dick rubbed all the spots that made your vision blur, and his thickness stretched you so deliciously, you came. Eyes rolling back, teeth biting into your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping your throat, you came and you came fucking hard.

"Fuck, baby...did...did you just cum?"

Panting and rolling your hips up into his, you whined, "Couldn't stop it, daddy...m'sorry..."

"Holy fuckin hell, baby," Katsuki groaned as he grabbed your hips pulling out of your heat excruciatingly slow just to slam right back in. Lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders, he set a brutal, cervix bruising pace.

"Fuck, baby...fuck...," he groaned, your moans and pleas fueling his desire, "need'ta be deeper...need'ta fill you...fuck, Y/N."

Stopping only to flip you to your stomach, he pulled your hips up, lifting your ass in the air. Activating his quirk letting a few small explosions light up, he landed a sharp slap against the curve of your ass, eliciting a sinful moan from the lips of the woman he was so madly fucking in love with.

Lining up, he leaned over your back to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. Bringing his lips to your ear, Bakugo asked, "Are you gonna be daddy's good little slut and let me fuck you stupid?"

"Fuck yes, daddy. Whatever you want...please...," you pleaded.

A satisfied groan left Bakugo's lips as he thrust into you, forcing your back into a formidable arch, you felt his balls slapping against your clit, bringing you dangerously close to another orgasm. You could barely register his words but still managed to whimper about how deep he was...how big he was.

"Goddamn, baby...need you to cum again. Please, cum for me...need to feel you milk my cock, babygirl. Let go...daddy's got ya...fuck you feel so good. Wanna fill you, baby...fill you up with my cum...wanna see it drip from your perfect little cunt."

"Katsukiiiii, please fill me. Please, oh fuck, oh god, I can't- I need..."

"Let go, Y/N...I'm right here, I've got you..."

Trailing a hand from your hips around to lay gentle circles over your clit, Bakugo leaned forward to bring his lips right behind your ear to whisper, "Be a good girl and cum."

On command, you felt chills break over your skin, the dam breaking, welcoming in the euphoria that was named Bakugo Katsuki, "Fuuuuuuuuck, daddyyyy..."

As soon as he felt your walls squeeze around him, he painted them with thick, white ropes of cum. Breathing heavy, he smoothed his hand up through the valley of your breasts to pull you up by your throat and hold your back against his chest. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, he turned your head to swallow your dying moans with his kisses as he kept deep, slow thrusts, fucking his cum into you. Because as much as he wanted to fuck you stupid, he wanted to show you just how much he loved you even more.

Both of you finally coming down from your highs, he pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling out of you to pull you down to the bed with him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You laid there for a while, Bakugo rubbing nonsensical patterns into your arm and back, you doing the same to his chest, listening to each other breathing.

Bakugo cleared his throat and chuckled, pulling you closer to him he said, "Huh...I guess you did end up calling me daddy after all."

Smacking him on the chest you giggled, "Ohhhh my god you're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Oh no fuckin way, PITA. That's one of my favorite memories. Your face was so damn red," he laughed.

"It's not my fault you were sculpted by the gods, okay? Geez."

Lifting his arm from under you, he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you. His signature smirk plastered on his face, "You wanna get cleaned up and get some dinner with me?"

Just as you opened your mouth to agree, someone knocked at your front door.

"Were you expecting someone?" Bakugo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nu uh, maybe it's Layla. I haven't talked to her since yesterday so she may have gotten worried about me..."

His scowl grew deeper, brows furrowing, "Worried about what, baby? Being with me?"

Worry and something akin to fear flashing through his eyes, you felt your heart squeeze in your chest, "Oh god no. Um, this may be a conversation better had over--," you started to explain until an unwelcome and familiar voice sounded through the door.

"Angellllll...I know you're in there..."

Bakugo felt your entire body go rigid, saw your eyes gloss over, heard your breath go shaky before you choked out, "That. That right there is why I thought Layla might be worried."

__________________________

@lordmypantsaresocool @riot-race @fatbitchgeek-blog @sunflowers-rae @totally-not-bakus-hoe @whatever-the-fuck-i-dont-care @suckerfor-fanfics @aomi04 @narcoleptiiic @missalienqueen @sweetienans

[monodipita]

PET (Yandere!Douma x Reader)

Hello again! I am once again quietly pushing my commissions out and encouraging people to check them out to help me out with vet bills. Please take a look if you can, it’s greatly appreciated!! 🙇🏽‍♀️

Word count: 2,083 Warnings: Yandere content, gore, death (not of reader!), master x pet dynamic (loose) His hands touched your face so lovingly.  Each gentle caress came with a new wave of love that washed over you and pushed you deeper into the delirium.  His sharp nails dug themselves into your cheek, but it was merely by accident. Every time it happened, it was.  His rainbow eyes stared into your own as a smile creeped onto his lips.  "How beautiful you are, [Y/N].  My pet."

Your eyes closed and you absorbed his words.  Compliments from him never became tiring, that was Douma's charm.  How could you have been so afraid before? "You have done so much for me, Douma," your words poured effortlessly from your lips. "Oh?"  Douma pressed a bit harder into your cheek before releasing you from his grip.  He pulled away and allowed you to rest in his butterfly-folded lap without pestering you for much longer. "Tell me of what I have done for you, dear pet." "You've provided for me in ways I have never seen anyone provide for me before, not even my own family," you told him.  You took his hands that rested idly off of his knees and squeezed them tightly while you gazed into his eyes. "You've saved me from a life of running away from demons.  I will forever and always be grateful to you, Douma." His smile remained plastered on his lips as he ate up your words.  "You are so utterly divine, [Y/N]."  He purred and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.  His hands moved from yours and wrapped themselves around your body, pressing against your back and threading themselves together at the base of it. "The only one I need in my life..." his eyes hooded. "No one else will ever compare to you, my love."  His words were so gushy.  You can tell by the way he looked at you that he truly meant every word that came out of his mouth.  "Do you love me. [Y/N]?" "I love you, Douma." "Kiss me." You obliged.  Your lips pressed with his, and you instantly melted into his tightening embrace.  The tighter it became, the more passionate his kiss became, until you could taste iron in your mouth.  You were only given the right to breathe once he felt like it was right to give way.  Lightheaded, you pulled away from him.  "Was that good?"  You ask meekly.  "Only the best, as always."  Douma responded, his blood-tinted lips showing themselves off.  "Now... I believe lunch time is soon." Sometimes it was easy to forget that this was a community home, ran by none other than Douma himself.  The people that lived and worked here were all indebted to him in some way, and you were included in that mix.  He took you away from your family and gave you a better life.  You were his consort, his significant other.  Wasn't that such an honor?  So many people were envious of you and what you had.  Expensive clothing, people to cater to your every whim and need.  It was the life of royalty, all given to you by Douma.  "Right," you beamed to him with a shy smile before you stood. "I'll make my way to the dining room, then.  Will you be joining us this time?" "I have important matters to attend to, dearest pet."  He tilted his head and frowned when he noticed your disappointed look. "Must you always seem so saddened by my answers?" "...it's just... I'd like you to join me, this time."  You pouted, slightly. What a spoiled brat. "Please?" "..." Douma flicked his fan open, revealing the pristine, sharp, golden blades within it.  He hummed aloud for just a moment before standing and making his way close to you.  He stopped before you and folded his fan closed, before pressing the golden fan into his cheek dimple. "I'll think about it."  He stated. "Is that enough of a sufficient answer for you?" Well enough.  The answer didn't vibe well with you, but persisting only put Douma in a strange mood. You nodded your head instead, and the two of you shared another kiss before departing.  You stepped out of the room and gently closed the shoji behind you, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh.  Yes, dinner was indeed soon, you could smell it in the air.  Your stomach growled, making your cheeks flush with embarrassment.  At least he wasn't going to hear that. "Are you [Y/N]?" "This must be Lord Douma's room." You turned your attention to whoever spoke, your eyes spotting two timid individuals.  You quirked your brow in bewilderment. "What is it?"  You asked. Neither of them responded with coherent answers.  Instead they rambled, which made your eyes narrow with suspicion.  Even moreso when Douma opened the shoji up to greet the two young

women.  "Oh, my love, you're still here."  Douma seemed surprised by that fact.  "These are our newest guests, Aoi and Chieko." "N-nice to meet you," the one identified as Aoi bowed, and the other identified as Chieko followed suit.  You said nothing and looked down on them with jealousy, before swiftly turning on your heel and disappearing around the corner.  You were undeniably jealous of whatever they were doing.  You liked to be the center of his attention.  Like many who worshiped him, any attention at all was enough to make your heart pound until it was all you could hear. You needed to know what they were doing.  You needed the confirmation that he wasn't doing anything with them... you wanted the comfort in feeling safe. You stopped at the corner, just when you were out of sight.  You waited for some time to pass before you would try to figure out what was happening.  You could hear people beginning to migrate toward the dining hall for dinner, and you needed to go too, but you held off.  It was more important to you to find out what he was doing with those girls. After waiting long enough and hearing the halls go silent, you decided to make your move.  You quietly headed toward his room and stopped outside of it to listen in on their conversation, if there was any.  At first it was eerily quiet, but there was noise soon following your arrival.  They seemed to be conversing about something. "I would appreciate this chance, lord Douma," Aoi's voice sounded... at least you thought that was her name, you couldn't quite remember.  "Please use me as your heart...desires..." Silence.  You felt your stomach tighten with nausea.  What did she mean by that? Was he... performing sexual favors on her!?  You felt hurt! You ripped your head away from the door and squirmed in place.  You wanted to leave, but you wanted to know what was going to happen.  You let out an inaudible sigh and pressed your ear to the shoji again to listen to what was going on.  You ripped your ear away as a loud scream sounded from the room, followed by Douma's charming laughter.  It became rapidly unsettling, making you swallow thickly with worry as your nose began to flood with the same, familiar smell of iron.  What was happening?  Did you want to know? No... you needed to know.  What was he doing? You slowly pushed the shoji open, slowly enough to not be heard under the loud screams of the girl.  You slowly edged into the room to see the horrible sight that you dreaded.  Now that the sound wasn’t muffled by the walls, you could hear the disturbing sound of something ripping.  Not clothes, not hair, but something else... The smell of iron became too much to bear, it was nauseating, even.  You tried your best to beat the smell, just so you could get a good glimpse at what was happening.  You... weren’t quite sure why you were pursuing the truth, but something just told you that what was happening wasn’t real.  Could it have been true? “Silly, silly humans.”  Douma chuckled to himself while his fingers plunged into Aoi’s eye socket to retrieve her eye.  Her screams were deafeningly loud, much to his glee, and your dismay.  “You almost ruined my day... oh, how I would’ve lost it if you interfered with my pet’s happiness.  [Y/N]’s happiness is important to me!  But I digress, you’ve fulfilled your purpose.  You’re making me a happy, happy boy with your pathetic carcasses!” He purred. ”D-douma—!”  You blurted in the form of a scream.  You didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it did. Blood caked his clothing, his face, his fingernails.  The more disturbing sight lies within the scene on the ground... the girl’s bodies.  The Chieko girl was dead.  Blood surrounded her body in a large pool, kept intact, except for the decapitated head sat on her back and was positioned to stare at him while he tortured Aoi.  Aoi’s eyes were removed, and her body weakly fought against his while she screamed bloody murder, but it didn’t matter. His thumbs were pressed so disturbingly into her empty eye sockets... “...[Y/N]!  My dear pet. You weren’t

supposed to see this...” he tilted his head, a frown appearing across his lips. ”HELP ME!  HELP ME, PLEASE!”  Her wails were deafening, even when you were so far away. ”Oh, that is so annoying now,” Douma’s frown soured.  He looked down at Aoi and shook his head at her.  “Pathetic girl, don’t you see that you’re in the presence of my love?  Be respectful.” His blue-painted fingers forced themselves into Aoi’s throat, causing blood to splatter on his face while he jerked his hand out of her throat in one quick motion.  He undoubtedly just killed someone in front of you.  “Oh!  She’s dead.  I tend to forget how fragile they can be!  I lose myself when I play with their intestines... that’s usually how they stay alive the longest.  Oops!  I forget to control my tendencies...”  Douma pouted.  “Forgive me, my love.  You were never supposed to see me like... this.”  He started to walk toward you. You lost it.  You doubled over and lost the contents of your stomach on the floor.  You placed your hand against the wall for support to keep yourself steady, to prepare yourself to get out of here.  You couldn’t even gather your bearings when Douma’s arms pulled you into a constricting embrace.  He squeezed you taut against his body. ”You... you’ve been lying to us all,” you croaked through your sobs. ”I’ve only been lying partially to you, my pet.  To everyone else, yes.”  Douma tilted your head up and forced you to look at him with a firm grip on your chin.  You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. ”Look at me with your eyes, [Y/N].” Douma purred sweetly. "Don't make me hurt you." You reluctantly looked up at him.  He noticed just how upset you appeared to be and frowned.  “Oh, my love!  Don’t be upset for what’s happened to those girls. That will never happen to you.”  He cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer to him, only causing you to sob more as the stench of iron and flesh wafted off of him in droves.  “They’re in a better place now, don’t you think?” ”Why... why don’t you do that to me?  Right now?”  You asked weakly. “I can’t do this... I can’t do this...” ”Because you’re my pet, of course.  Even if I want to eat you, I could never bring myself to.” He reached up to kiss your forehead.  “Killing you would be like losing part of myself. I love toying with you, I love your cute little reactions...” he trailed off, before hooding his eyes. “Killing these humans mean nothing to me.  But for a pet like you... you mean everything to me.” ”M-my parents,” you sputtered, “w-what did you do to them?” ”They didn’t care about you.”  Douma said soberly.  “That’s why you’re here, with me.  They dumped you here.  They gave you to me.  We were destined to be together as a man and his adoring pet, isn’t that so romantic?”  He smiled at you. You felt yourself beginning to sob harder.  You squirmed and thrashed in his arms, but it didn’t matter.  He was so much stronger than you.  “My poor baby,” Douma frowned and pulled you closer into his arms, reaching up and stroking your hair as if it could calm you down.  “Don’t worry, my dear pet.  You’ll always be kept alive...”

[whumpiary]

content warnings: strong warnings for noncon/dubcon, fucky consent thoughts, overstimulation, self harm through sex, implied drug use.

Cassius can feel the pulse of the walls, his body, the bed, the springs. He can feel where the hands were. He can feel where they’re not. He hates that they’re not.

“I have something I want to do with you this weekend, darling boy.”

“What kind of something?”

“How would you feel about testing some of your limits?”

Room full of people. All wanting the same thing. All hungry for the same thing. Hungry for him. The feeling leaked through his skin. Into his bones. Thrums through his veins. In the muscle fibres. Through his cock.

“You don’t have to be totally present for it if you don’t want to be.”

“The chocolates?”

“If you like.”

They were hungry and wanted to eat him whole so of course he was hungry too.

Thoughts of too much, thoughts of not again, thoughts of God, please stop wrung out and replaced with the heavy hunger of strangers. Replaced with yes and touch me there and fill me up and whatever you want. With more, more, more.

“How many of us will he take?”

“As many as you like.”

“And how long will he go for?”

“As long as I like.”

He’s not a person when he’s like this. Just a body. Just a tongue. A couple of holes. Meat and bones. And want.

And want and want and want.

“I want to see how many times he’ll go before he breaks.”

How many times has he come undone today? How many times? He can’t remember

“You won’t break him.” An order as much as it was a promise.

There had been so many hands on him.

“Oh he’s just gone, isn’t he?”

Delicious, devouring hands on him.

“God that’s good.”

Pair after pair after pair.

“Come on, my turn.”

Each with their own weight, their own heat, their own tugging desires.

“His mouth’s free isn’t it?”

There were hands and hands and hands. He doesn’t understand where they’ve all gone now.

Everything is empty in the wake. His skin, the air, his head, the room. People were filling it all with sound and movement and want, want, want and now it’s just an aching valley of nothing.

“More… m-more.”

His voice hits the walls and bounces back in a spiralling echo. He’s pushed out to sea. He’s in the void of space. He’s falling down a well, down a rabbit hole, off a cliff. He’s hungry, he’s starving, he’s far too used up.

But at the end of it all, at the end of all things, there is Christopher. There is always, always Christopher. He’s here now. In front of him. Hand on his face, cool and strong. The strongest pulse in the room, the strongest pull.

“I want… I want…”

“Shhh, darling boy. You’re done. You’re all done.”

That can’t be right.

“No. More. I want… want more…”

“No you don’t. We’re all done.”

“Need more… Please, I can feel it-”

“No.”

“I can feel how much you want-”

“Darling, when I say you’re done-”

“Please.”

“-You’re done.”

“Christopher.”

“Cassius.”

“More. Please. Please, more.”

Cassius is shoved tenderly away and he sobs and he shudders and God his skin burns and burns with everything it wants and everything it needs and the desire for more touch and more touch and more touch.

“I want more, I can’t-“

He can’t soak himself in the desires of a dozen other people for hours and then turn it off like a switch. It doesn’t work like that. It’s like an exposed nerve now.

Every breath, every movement, every beat of his heart fuelled and fed through raw and brutal desire. Slicing him through.

“Please, I can feel it. I can feel you.”

“I think you can feel everyone else, darling.”

“I need- please.”

He needs to fill needs that aren’t his. Satisfy cravings he doesn’t recognise. Satiate hungers he’s never had. He needs more. He wants-

“More.”

He grabs Christopher’s hands, drags them to his body. To his exhausted, aching, sweat-slick body. He sobs. He aches. He sobs.

“More. More.”

He needs it. God, he fucking needs it. Everything is too much and it needs to keep being too much. Christopher’s hands are warm and gorgeous. Christopher’s gaze is heavy and hurts.

“Please.”

He needs Christopher to slide inside of him and feel himself made whole. To reach and grab and cling to whatever of Christopher he can reach.

“More.”

To have the hands he knows and loves and hates to love wring him drier and drier until he cracks and crumbles like plaster.

“More.”

He needs to sob and wail and scream and for Christopher to fuck him through it. He needs this. He needs it. He needs Christopher.

“More.”

But Christopher pulls his hands away.

“I said no.”

Cassius closes his eyes with the sharp stab of the rejection and nearly falls into unconsciousness right there. He’s falling down a well, down a rabbit hole, off a cliff. His body shaking. From exhaustion or crying or just adrenal system in overdrive. He’s not really sure which.

He can feel the itch in Christopher hands. The desire to touch and grab and caress and stroke. But he holds off and holds off and Cassius burns.

A cashmere blanket is wrapped around, far too soft and far to textured to be what he needs right now. He whines. He’s shushed. No hands touch him. He sobs.

He slumps down into himself as the blanket is curled around him and after a few minutes the weight of a hand sits square on his back, between the shoulder blades, blanket too thick to properly feel the heat of it.

Everything in him whispers not enough, not enough, not enough. He moans with the relief of the contact anyway.

A second hand trails up his leg, between his thighs, squeezing the hard and heavy heat there, wants burning white hot in response to the whine it squeezes from him.

“Oh, darling boy.”

He shakes his head and buries his face into the mattress below him.

“Oh they just left you wanting didn’t they?”

He can practically hear Christopher’s thoughts. The just gorgeous, the made for this, the perfect.

Cassius sobs. “More.”

Christopher’s touch leaves him again and when it returns it’s to guide Cassius’ hand between his own legs. He shakes his head. He shudders. He begins stroking obediently.

He aches. He sobs. He aches.

Christopher manipulates him like a doll. Like his limbs are wire and clay. But they’re not. He’s flesh. All of him is hungry flesh.

He’s starving. He’s rotting. He’s raw.

Christopher slides in behind him and then slides effortlessly inside him.

“Its okay, darling. I’ll give you what you need.”

He chokes on his thank yous until he’s feeling so much he can’t feel anything at all.

[candychronicles]

heavens // t. keigo/hawks

A/N: my take on the roommates theme for the bnharem collab! honestly didn’t know where i was going with this one and it seems a bit random/rushed so i apologize in advance but hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo/Hawks x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,491

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), some language 

SYNOPSIS: despite his growing popularity, you two remained steady roommates, which confused you to no end. what was his true motive in keeping you around? 

And they were roommates! Click here to read more!

Hawks was an interesting character to say the least. when you first moved in, you weren’t all too sure what to expect. he was, at the time, a fairly popular hero, but nowhere near the status he held today. he was charming, suave, friendly and it seemed genuine at the time. things went downhill quick though as his popularity rose and along with it, his annoying, god-like tendencies. 

what you didn’t understand was why he kept you around after all this time. you didn’t necessarily need to live with him still, but as he got more popular and therefore gained more money, the areas he lived in grew nicer and nicer until you were on a gorgeous top floor penthouse with a stunning view, all for the price of your original, dingy apartment. what you could afford on your own would be nowhere near the luxury that he was offering. that’s why you stayed, but you weren’t sure why he offered to let you continue to stay with him after all this time.

sure, you were friends, got along for the most part and when you didn’t, stayed out of each other’s hair, but he didn’t owe you anything and you certainly didn’t want to feel like you were in his debt. yet something attracted the two of you together continuously despite it all. 

what you didn’t know was that Hawks very much enjoyed having you around. you’d deny it until you were blue in the face but he heard one too many times you touching yourself in your bedroom, muffled moans matching those of the girl or guy he was fucking that night. he often did his best to give you a show, cursing, spitting, hitting, anything he could do to rile you up, get you to hear the lewd sounds coming from the apartment. you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about, scoffed when he invited you to join him or give you his own private show and acted like you didn’t know he was doing that all on purpose just to tease you. 

truth be told, you pushed all those thoughts aside when it came to him. he was attractive, very much so, and also very unattainable, in your eyes anyways. his god-like complex was annoying at times but also very warranted. he was popular with everyone he met-children, women, men, the elderly, hell, you don’t think he ever met a dog that didn’t like him. he was strong, powerful, commanding of the quirk he weld so well. his personality was nothing short of smooth, like honey over ice cream melting on your tongue. you felt so incredibly drawn to him that your brain absolutely shut out any idea of it, giving yourself no hope that he would ever reciprocate the pure feelings of desire you felt towards him. after awhile, your convincing became reality and you began to question everything, desperate to detach yourself from his enigmatic ways. 

hey sweetheart, will be gone for most of the day. left some money for groceries and a little extra for whatever you want. don’t miss me too much

-H

you scoffed at the note pasted to your refrigerator, neon pink glaring at you in the morning sun trickling from the balcony window. he had been gone a lot lately, sometimes bringing home people at night, mostly crashing straight on the couch before he had even gotten a chance to change clothes. you acted like you didn’t miss him, miss his presence, the lingering touches that you swore were just him being an ass and making fun of you, but in reality, you missed the hell out of him. the domesticity that he showed when it was just you two vulnerable late at night, tired from a hard day of work, it made you realize that he wasn’t a god all the time after all.

that thought didn’t change your mind about his attainability, however. in fact, it only seemed to spur your ideals on more, convincing yourself that a man who could be so vulnerable and yet so strong was one who deserved more than what you could give. it would never be you and you were content with that fact, or so you thought.

your day was long and grueling, working patrols and small missions as a pro hero. you were likeable enough but when it came down to it, you didn’t care to be popular, didn’t care to make a ton of money or be interviewed by dozens of people a month. you just wanted to do your job and keep people safe and at the end of the day, that was what you accomplished. 

it was nearly midnight when you returned home, the elevator dinging closed behind you as you walked into the penthouse. the lights were still off, everything in place from this morning, which meant that Hawks had not arrived home yet despite him being gone for nearly the whole day. anger bubbled up underneath your skin. you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you were nothing more than roommates, but sometimes feeling so isolated and alone in this big space with no one to talk to or do anything with left you antsy and annoyed. in simple frustration and retaliation, you locked the balcony window, forcing him to come up the elevator like a dignified man, bringing his nightly fuck in through the lobby instead of sneaking them inside like he often did.

it was nearly six am before you were woken up to a loud thud, the door smacking against the wall. you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down before you tried to go back to bed, but before you got a chance, a knock sounded at your door.

“what?” you asked irately, not in the mood to entertain him and his antics.

“why’d you lock the balcony window?” he asked simply, arms crossed. 

as you sat up to answer, you noticed his calm demeanor not so calm anymore. his chest was flaring up and down, body wobbly, and he reeked of alcohol.

“so much for a calm night,” you muttered. “i locked the door because i didn’t want to hear you fucking any of your whores while i was trying to sleep.”

“oh baby, you know you like it, like the sounds i make, the words i say. all you have to do is admit it and i can be all yours.”

“you wish bird brain,” you spat back at him, done with the conversation as you shimmied yourself back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and promptly shutting your eyes, ignoring the feeling of his stare burning into your brain.

“i do wish. i wish it were you i was fucking. i’ve wished that since the day i met you, all excited and doe eyed, ready to take on the world and all of its challenges. you never let my fame get in the way, never treat me any differently. you’ve been by my side throughout it all and yet you won’t let me get too close to you. why is that? afraid i’ll break your heart little one?”

you sat back up again quickly only to realize that he had moved to the foot of your bed. he sat down, taking off his boots and shucking them on the floor only to crawl practically into your lap, snuggling into your thigh.

“i won’t break your heart. i’ll only hurt you if you want me to, which i know you do, at least a little bit. but i’d n-never hurt your heart. you’re too precious for that princess, so sweet to me, so so angelic. and yet i can hear your moans through the walls, practically feel you arching off your bed as you chased your high, desperate for a release, wishing it were me who was touching you instead of your own fingers. i can do that you know. all you need to do is say the magic word and i’m yours. no more fucking other people, just me and you. i’ll spoil you rotten, anything you could possibly want and it’s all yours. you’d never have to worry about a thing again, yeah? what do you say?”

your heart hitched into your throat at his babbling confession. surely he wasn’t serious, right? it must’ve been the alcohol talking. you knew that if you said yes he was just going to tease you and tell you that he was joking and never wanted to see you ever again. you were just sure of it… but, in the off case that he was being serious… you couldn’t mess this up.

“yeah, okay,” you replied, voice hitching in your throat as you agreed with him.

you waited a few seconds for the harsh sting of a reply but nothing came. you cast your eyes down to see Hawks passed out, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. sighing, you flopped back down onto the bed, heels of your palms pressed into your eye sockets, brain full of thoughts as you tried to sift through your feelings. eventually you just gave up and passed out against the cool sheets of your bed, too tired to deal with the emotional turmoil you were putting yourself through.

when you woke up the next morning, Hawks was no longer against your thigh but rather plastered to your side. you weren’t sure how you ended up being spooned by the lanky man but it wasn’t necessarily the first time you had cuddled. your brain began working against you almost immediately, convincing yourself that the previous night's events were nothing more than a drunken spur from your roommate and that he did not, in fact, want to be with you.

with those thoughts in mind, you began to wiggle your way out of his grasp, nearly making it out of bed before you felt a hand shoot out and grab you by the wrist. 

“where are you going beautiful? sleep with a man and then ditch him before he even gets a chance to wake up? how heartless of you.”

“oh shut up, you know damn well that we did not sleep together. in fact, you came in here at six in the morning just to simply annoy the hell out of me. now that’s what i call heartless.”

“we didn’t sleep together but we could’ve,” he teased, fingers rubbing gently up and down your arm as he attempted to coax you back into bed, but your mind worked on overdrive, simply not believing that he was interested in you at all. 

“why do you always like to make fun of me, huh? does it give you some sick satisfaction to dangle hope like that in front of my face only to snatch it away from me if i ever say yes?” you spat, getting sick and tired of his games.

“princess, i’m not lying to you, nor am i making fun of you. i would never offer something like this if i wasn’t serious. i want to take care of you in any way i can-emotionally, sexually, financially, anything you need, i want to give it to you. i was trying to drop you hints, give you the space to come to your own conclusions but it seems that i miscalculated how that pretty little brain of yours works. instead of believing that i was seriously flirting with you, it seems as if you thought that i was making fun of you instead. how funny that the mind works like that sometimes. i must admit i was a fool for not seeing it sooner, but now it makes so much sense.”

“what are you rambling on about?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion as you tried to make sense of the fact that he was not only dead serious about wanting to be with you but also psychoanalyzing your thoughts at the same time.

“how you would always get mad when i brought people home but never said anything to me, how you always scoffed at my sweet words, would never take money from me despite me leaving it very clearly for you, never getting too close to me despite living together for years. i’m honestly dumbfounded that i didn’t realize sooner. you’ve been in love with me for a long time too, huh? except, unlike me, you truly never thought you had a chance.”

“u-uh, yeah, i-i just, Keigo, what are you really trying to say to me?”

“sweetheart, be mine, wholly and fully in every way possible. let me take care of you like i’ve always wanted, always tried to do. this isn’t some joke or elaborate ruse, i’m not lying to you or trying to hurt you in any way. i really, truly want to be with you.”

you exhaled heavily, not realizing you had been holding your breath the whole time, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, not finding anything except sincerity and hope.

“okay,” you relented, nodding your head. “yeah, if you say you’re not lying to me, i’ll trust you. i just, i don’t know. i never realized that you actually liked me back. i never would’ve guessed it in a million years. never would’ve thought i would hear any words like that come out of your mouth let alone so sincerely.”

you looked down, twiddling your thumbs as you contemplated the situation once more, but before you could let your brain get the best of you, Hawks placed his slender fingers underneath your chin, lifting your face up so that you could peer at him. he leaned forward slowly, foreheads pressed together.

“is it okay if i kiss you?”

you nodded your head, squeaking out a quiet “yes” before surging forward to place your lips on his, desperate to feel him, desperate to quiet the negative voices in your head and surround yourself with him instead.

he matched your pace eagerly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward even more, his own desperation leaking through the kiss. he was so enamored with you, the way you smelt, your mussy hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the feeling of your soft lips against his own. it was almost too much to handle. he hadn’t been with anyone in awhile, preferring to wait it out and confront you when he had the courage to do so, and he felt himself getting more and more antsy as time went on. he wanted to respect you, treat you with the dignity and honor that you deserved, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was ruin you and mark you as his own.

“baby, you need to tell me if i go to far, yeah? i just want to make you feel good, never uncomfortable. let me take care of you like you deserve,” he panted, adjusting himself closer to you.

“i trust you Keigo. i’m yours.”

he groaned at the sound of you, of how pathetic and weak you were towards him, how you trusted to be vulnerable around him, trusted that he would take care of you. he had never wanted to ruin anything so badly in his life and he was going to do his best to make sure you knew you were his.

the kisses turned more sensual, tongues dipping in and around each other, exploring one another for what felt like the first time ever. for you, it had been awhile, telling yourself that you were too busy to be sexual with someone else when in actuality you had been craving a certain blonde all along. for him, this was something entirely new and special. he never got the chance to be truly intimate with anyone, let his guard down, want to please his partner more than himself, but you were different, special in the fact that you loved him for him and no other reason than that. 

“please Keigo, i need more,” you whined, fisting at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to your body. 

“anything for you princess.” 

his shirt came off first, a delicate process he mastered years ago. he reached for your own shirt, fingers playing at the hem as he once again asked permission. you replied by pulling it off yourself, exposing your breasts to him. he immediately latched onto your left nipple, hand coming up to pinch the right, gently coaxing you to lay back down on the bed as he followed, hands and mouth never leaving your body. he laved you with his tongue, leaving a trail of cool moisture in its wake, sucking and biting at every soft spot he could think of, wanting so hard to hear you moan. 

“that’s it baby, don’t be shy. i want to hear you moan, say my name.”

you responded with a groan as his hand came to rest on your clothed cunt, feeling the wetness through your shorts. he smirked at the realization that you did truly want him as bad as he wanted you and the thought had his cock straining in his pants. it wasn’t long before he had freed himself from his confines, watching the way your eyes drank up the sight of him through the filtered light. 

gently, you reached out your hand to paw at his cock, marveling in the way it twitched at the slightest touch. you were enamored by him, all of him. before you kneeled a greek god willing to worship you, a mere mortal. you didn’t know what you did to deserve this but you figured you’d spend the rest of your life thanking the heavens.

“don’t worry about me right now, yeah? let’s just focus on making you feel good,” he cooed, reaching down to gently tug at your shorts.

you lifted your hips up without question, allowing him to pull the fabric down your body, your underwear coming along with it. he greedily watched as your slick stringed against the fabric before snapping. he was amazed that he could make someone so wet just by kissing them and was more than curious to see how soaked he could get you by the end of the morning.

he slowly dropped himself down to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. kisses were placed to the soft flesh on your legs, pinching and nipping along the way, relishing in the squeals and moans you let out of your mouth. experimentally, he licked up your slit, watching how your breath hitched and your hands grasped the sheets below you, desperate to hold onto something. he licked again, this time using one of his hands to hold you down and the other to come and open you up. you responded immediately, back attempting to arch off the bed at the already intense situation.

he started up a steady pace, watching each little movement, breath, moan, grasp of the blanket to analyze what you liked best. he was enraptured with you, everything about you. you were so strong, fighting crime like it was nothing, doing anything you could to keep citizens safe and yet here you were, putty in his hands, baring your heart for him, trusting that he would take care of you.

the pressure inside of you slowly built up. it was like an intense heat you had never felt before, white hot and pulsing inside your abdomen. you clutched the sheets, your thighs, his hair, anything you could to purchase yourself to this earth as he brought you closer and closer to the promised land. finally, with one final lick, you came, crying out his name in a symphony of praises, singing to the high heavens.

he watched as you came done around his tongue, how your breath labored, eyes screwed shut, face flush and face twisted in pure pleasure. it was a magnificent sight to see, you so relaxed and carefree, enjoying every feeling that flooded over you.

when you had finally come down and your breathing began to even out, you opened your eyes to find Keigo still nestled between your thighs, head resting gently on you.

“how are you feeling love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“like i just left this world and came back,” you answered truthfully, laughing at his proud expression.

“are you okay? is there anything i can get for you?”

“no, Keigo, i think i’m okay,” you answered truthfully.

for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. your body was relaxed, your mind foggy from the pleasure and you had the man you loved staring up at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“good, i’m glad you’re okay because we’re not done here. lay back down baby bird, let me make you feel good.”