#so now i keep wanting to write more. floral? almost?

[m1d-45]

And you, teddy anon (and midas ofc), never fail to come up with scenarios that my mind is all too happy to jump on. ❤️

Imagine then, after the Creator has finally been rescued and tended to, they finally wake up after sleeping for a very long time, they see that they’re in a painfully familiar, urban place. Upon realising that they’re not in, say, a hilichurl camp or are otherwise in the wilds, they panic and scramble to try and leave (they think that they’re still being hunted). Then in comes one of their characters (or they bump into them in a corridor or sth).

Off the top of my head, I see a few directions that this could go:

1. Creator tries to plead with the character to let them leave, or are otherwise trying to find an opportunity to escape. Due to their panicked state, they interpret their character’s gestures as hostile or are otherwise trying to trick them into lowering their guard. Maybe they were betrayed by someone (or that one in particular) during the hunt (I can see characters like Kaeya and Ayato doing this) and they’ve been very guarded against similar tactics since. Bonus points if they have the ability to teleport like the Traveler does.

2. Creator tries to defend themselves with their budding elemental power that they are just starting to learn to control.

3. Creator outright gives up. They shake their head, thinking themself foolish for ever believing that they could escape forever, that this was their just desserts for even trying to defy fate. They smile at their character and tell them that they win, and to go ahead and end them. More likely if said character had been extremely persistent in hunting them (e.g. Kaeya). Imagine then that they’re bracing themselves for the final blow, but then they feel warmth. They open their eyes in shock and realise that the character is hugging them close, whispering, “I’m sorry”, or “Forgive me” over and over again. Maybe the character even cries a little.

- cryo anon, whose brain can actually come up with fluff occasionally

oh my god cryo anon my dearly beloved

they’re kinda just merged together because i kinda went off so

you maybe waking up in the estate, sitting up on shaking arms. you don’t remember much, mostly just a blur; thoma shouting at you, a white kimono and a sharp, commanding voice. the details are a haze, and the room you’re in is unidentifiable. there’s a potted plant in a white and purple vase, a dark wood closet, the sheets soft- or maybe they’re not, and you’re simply used to dirt and scratchy sacks?

you don’t know. you have a headache. the door opens, and you delay so long in turning that the person has a chance to shout something down the hallway—does wonders for your migraine—before coming in. when you do look, you wish you hadn’t.

ayato is the last person you want to see on inazuma. you’d met him once before, banged up and hiding near inazuma city. he’d seen you, you thought, seen your blood, your dirty bandages and knotted hair, and you thought he’d known that you couldn’t be a threat.

you didn’t hear what he said, but you pull away from his hand when he reaches for you anyway. where are you? why are you here? your hands were wrapped, your aches had ceased, the room is cool and his eyes are warm-

“i mean no harm,” he says quietly, but all you can think of is the past, of the bustling streets behind him when he found you tucked in an alley, bruised and bleeding.

you don’t want to believe him. you don’t anyway.

if it weren’t for the fact that your legs were broken, you would have run away.

[sykoangels]

Oh, Professor?

paring: mutant!reader x professor!logan

warning: age gap (everyone is 18+) slight dubcon and kissing

notes: something about Professor Logan makes me giggle and kick my feet!! I wanted to start a series so this is part one please tell me what y’all think! Let me know if you want a part two!!

PART TWO IS OUT NOW!!

The clock on Logan's desk ticked loudly, each second dragging like a reluctant participant in an unwanted march. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single desk lamp that cast long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the stack of papers before him. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he reviewed the latest batch of assignments from his students. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be doing this, but Charles had made it clear: teach or leave. And leaving meant no more free booze, no more sanctuary

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. The door creaked open, and a familiar scent wafted into the room—something floral, yet earthy, like wildflowers after a rainstorm. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, though he’d never admit it to anyone. “Professor Logan?” Y/N’s voice was soft, tentative, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface—a sense boldness simmering.

Logan finally looked up, meeting her gaze. She stood in the doorway, her hair in a slick ponytail not a single hair was out place besides the strains of hair framing her face perfectly. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and her lips were curved into a small, almost shy smile. She wore a simple baby blue dress with a small bow on the collar. The dress that clung to her curves in all the right places, and Logan felt a surge of something he hadn’t felt in years—desire, mixed with a heavy dose of guilt.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice gruff. “What do you need?”

Y/N stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. The click of the latch echoed in the silence between them. “I was wondering if I could get extra help with the calculus assignment. I’m having a bit of trouble with the derivatives.” Y/N mentioned softly looking at the math sheet Logan handed out during class. The paper has some eraser marks and scribbles of some problem-solving work already etched into the paper. Logan raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. She was one of his top students, always acing his tests and assignments. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt maybe she didn’t understand some of the problems. It was duty as a professor to help her? Right?

He sighed, pushing the stack of papers aside and patting the chair right next to him. “Alright, come sit down. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Y/N walked over to the chair opposite his desk, her movements graceful and deliberate. She sat down, crossing her legs and placing her notebook on the desk. Logan couldn’t help but notice how her dress rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. He forced himself to focus, opening her notebook and scanning the pages

“Show me where you’re stuck bub,” he said, trying to keep his tone professional. She pointed to a problem halfway down the page. “Right here, I can’t seem to figure out the chain rule for this one.” Logan leaned closer adjusting their reading glasses, his breath hitching as he caught a whiff of her perfume. He cleared his throat, reaching for a pen and starting to explain. As he spoke, he noticed her eyes drifting, not to the paper, but to his hands. They were large, calloused, and rough—hands that had seen countless battles, hands that could crush bone with ease. But now, they moved with surprising delicacy, writing equations on the paper with precision.

“You understand so far bub? You know if you’re confused just stop me alright.” he asked, glancing up. Y/N’s eyes snapped back to his, and she nodded quickly. “Yeah, I think so.” Logan continued, explaining the concept in more detail, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desire that neither of them dared to acknowledge. When he finished, he looked at her expectantly.

“Think you can handle it now? Try this problem by yourself bub.” Logan said pointing at one of the problems at the bottom of the sheet. Y/N hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Maybe… I think I might need you to explain once more. It’s just math isn’t my strong suit.” Y/N says looking at Logan Logan sighed inwardly. He knew where this was heading, and part of him—the part that still remembered what it was like to be young and reckless—wanted to indulge her. But the other part, the responsible part, the part that knew better, wanted to send her away and forget this ever happened.

“Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s go through it one more time.” As he leaned in to point out another aspect of the problem, their faces were mere inches apart. The warmth of her breath brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He could see the pulse fluttering in her neck, the way her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes.

And then, without warning, Y/N reached out, her hand gently brushing against his. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. Logan froze, his breath catching in his throat. “Professor…” she whispered, her voice trembling Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to pull away, to put an end to this madness. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. The room seemed to shrink around them, the world outside fading into nothingness. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Y/N leaned closer, her lips parted slightly, her breath warm against his cheek. Logan’s mind raced, torn between duty and desire, between what was right and what he desperately wanted. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the subtle curve of her breasts pressing against his chest as she closed the distance between them. Subsequently, just as their lips were about to meet, a sharp knock sounded at the door, jolting them both back to reality. Logan jerked away, his heart pounding in his ears. Y/N’s hand fell from his, and she quickly straightened her dress, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Come in!” Logan called out, his voice strained. The door opened, and Jean poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Logan, but you have a phone call. It’s urgent.” Logan nodded, grateful for the interruption, even if it came at the worst possible moment. “I’ll be right there.” Jean disappeared, and Logan turned back to Y/N, who was already gathering her things. Y/N avoided his gaze, her face a mask of confusion and regret.

“I should go,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. Logan watched as Y/N hurried to the door, her movements jerky and uncertain. He wanted to say something, to stop her, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he remained silent, his mind reeling from the near-miss encounter. As the door clicked shut behind her, Logan let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. What the hell had just happened? He knew he should feel guilty, ashamed even, but all he felt was a deep, aching need that refused to be ignored.

As he sat at his desk staring at the empty doorway, he realized that this was only the beginning.

[schoenpepper]

Sensory Overload (Housewardens)

Intro: It's him, it's him, it's all so him. Like the perfect happy ending to your fairytale, there's always a confession and a kiss.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, loser Idia but that's normal right, kinda suggestive but nothing nuts

A/N: Never making the mistake of asking what people want for a follower milestone celebration again :( So this is my happy 200 followers to you, and to myself.

Too many weeks of yearning, and pining, and unbirthday invitations; too many hours of sleep lost when you haunt him even in his dreams. Riddle finally cracks when he sees you one too many times with the ADeuce combo (he wants you to smile with him, laugh with him like that too). He pulls you to an empty classroom, and he’s bright red as he stammers out his feelings for you.

“Y/N, I really like you.”

What can you do but respond in kind when he’s so cute and shy like this?

“Riddle,” you say with a smile, “I like you too.”

He takes one of your hands into his own, pressing a small kiss on the back of your knuckles. His pretty gray eyes, like storm clouds above the sea, a raging tempest making its way to your heart and tearing down all the walls you’d built for yourself. Most of all, you see love swirling within them. Enough to ignore the school bell that had just rung. Enough to get ‘indecently’ close to you. Enough to drown you. He smells like roses and lemon tea, sweet and citrusy and floral, and his lips, you barely feel the moment they’re on yours.

He’s looking away in embarrassment.

You tug him back to you. “I think we need a redo.”

The moment Leona realizes he likes you (no way he’s saying love this early, try again), he’s knocking on the door of your dorm. You wake up to find a handsome lion beastman, emerald green eyes staring right at you and it’s, admittedly, a very rude wake up call. Sure he’s hot, but getting kabedon’d to the front door at 5 in the morning was definitely not in your plans for a casual Saturday.

You can’t complain.

Mostly because he’s already kissing you before you’re even awake enough to register that Leona Kingscholar is kissing you while keeping you pinned against the door, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck to keep you from escaping. He smells like cedarwood and the slightest hint of smoke, his lips are slightly chapped but so soft, and his tongue sweeps over your lip. You deny his silent ask for entry and pull away.

“Good…morning…?” You say in a daze.

“Herbivore,” Leona drawls slowly, leaning back in again, “I like you. Be mine.”

You’re kidnapped right after your Magic History exam, and really, you’re just thankful that Floyd and Jade decided to wait until after your exam before taking you against your will. You feel like a tourist attraction, slung over Floyd’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You’re dropped off in front of the Mostro Lounge VIP room. Azul is waiting for you with a contract, and you read it with a laugh. “Party A is to be in a formal relationship with Party B, of romantic nature which indicates—Azul, this is stupid.”

You watch the man, almost uncharacteristically, curl in on himself at your words.

Even though you did just kind of mock it, you still pick up the fishbone quill and sign your name on the dotted line. You toss the contract to the side and stand up, bending over his fancy wood table to pull him by the collar and look him in his pretty eyes you can never understand the color of. Maybe you just need some more time to stare at them.

“Azul,” you whisper softly, “I like you too.”

He smells like expensive cologne, sea salt and vanilla and something else. His lips are so soft and sweet when you tug him in to meet yours, he’s awkward and inexperienced and everything about this mafioso wannabe is adorable to you right now.

Better hope the door is locked.

Every Scarabia party is usually punctuated with you passing out in your bed. This one is different. Just as the music is dying down and the number of people are dwindling, a nervous Kalim asks you to go on a carpet ride with him. So. You’re alone, up in the skies, with the guy you like. Yay. You hold onto the tassels for dear life.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

You look at Kalim. His eyes look like rubies crystallized from blood, but his gaze is innocent, sweet, and it reminds you more of strawberry flavored lollipops than it does a crime scene. He moves closer to you, and you can’t back off or you’ll fall off the carpet.

So you fall for Kalim instead.

He smells woody, and like a mix of different spices that probably shouldn’t smell as good in combination as they do on him. “I like you,” he says softly, cupping your cheek. You don’t stop him when he leans in for a slow kiss, tender and gentle as if any rough and sudden movement could cause you to break. His lips are chapped, but he tastes faintly of the fruit juice you’d seen him drink earlier.

“I like you too.”

Valentines’. Lovely. The best holiday ever. The perfect day to spill all your romantic feelings to someone who could so very easily crush it under his five inch stilettos.

You hold onto your flowers and try to smell your breath. You’re not optimistic enough to think your confession will end in a kiss, but it’s okay to dream, right? You knock on the door. It opens to reveal the person you’ve been hopelessly in love with for a while, and you meet lilac irises reminiscent of lavender fields in the Shaftlands. Vil glances down at your bouquet with a knowing smile.

You offer it to him. He takes it.

“Happy Valentines’ day.”

“Thank you, spudling.”

Awkward silence. This is the part where you confess. “Vil, I like you. A lot.”

This is the part you get rejected. Luckily for you, you don’t. Soft, sweet lips meet yours in a haphazard kiss as you’re pulled into his room, with the slightest taste of grapes, probably from his lip gloss. He smells like the bouquet of flowers you’d brought him, and like the patch of herbs you pass by everyday by the greenhouse.

“Darling, I’ve waited for far too long to hear you say that.”

You wake up in Idia’s bed after a day-long gaming session, meeting a pair of eyes that look like liquid gold. He's staring at your face like a cat. “Hi, Idia,” you murmur sleepily, “what time is it?”

“Uh,” he looks at his phone, “like, 6 p.m.?”

“Have you been staring at me while I slept?”

He blinks. “No?”

You roll around on the bed and take him down with you, your hands on either side of him as you hovered above him. You lean down closer and closer and closer, until he’s squealing and whimpering. He smells musty, to be honest, and it’s probably the sweatshirt he’s wearing that he hasn’t changed out of in two days, with the slightest whiff of cheese puffs. “What are you doing?!”

“Idia,” you say with a yawn, before grinning mischievously, “I like you.”

“Are you for real…?”

You close the distance, and he doesn’t fight you off, so you call that a success. His lips are dry as hell, so you do him a favor and lick them for him.

Tastes like cheese puffs too.

Malleus saw you as a friend. That’s it. He saw you as someone to trust and spend time with, a mortal who held no fear towards him or his powers that could easily send the entire island underwater. You don’t think there’s anything special enough about you that could make the Malleus Draconia fall in love with you the way you’ve fallen hopelessly, irredeemably, in love with him. So no, you don’t have the highest hopes when you look into his stunning green eyes, so vibrant and lovely that no forest could ever compare. Not when you cup his cheeks with your hands.

Not when you kiss him.

He tastes like the milk candy you’d just given him minutes before, and smells vaguely of smoke and vetiver. You take his passivity as a sign to go further (in any case, you don’t think this’ll ever happen again). Your kiss is more desperate, chasing after his lips and your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.

You pull away to see the Prince of Briar Valley blushing.

“What…is the meaning of this…?”

“I’m sorry Malleus, I just—” you messed up, now you can’t even be friends anymore, “—I like you, Malleus. I’m sorry, I understand if you never want to see me again.”

He doesn’t reply. He only smiles and pulls you back in for another.

[mononijikayu]

lay your love on me — nanami kento.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?” He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.” “Well,” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face, “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.” “And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead,” you announced with a grin.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, possessive behaviour, protectiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader petitions for nanami to be her house husband;

WORD COUNT: 5.4k words.

NOTE: i hope this makes up for the fact that i've been writing a lot of angsty fics. this was supposd to be a baywatch thing. but i changed my mind. anyway, i'll be doing the side - 900 works in advance. i hope you enjoy this!!! from this point, i might be slower in updating because i'll be back to uni again and probably will be a little bit more busy. thank you for reading and always enjoy this one too!!! i love you <3

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HE’S NOT PROUD OF THE MAN HE’S BECOME. But it’s hard for him, when it comes to you, his precious wife. Nanami Kento had always considered himself above petty emotions like jealousy. He was calm, rational, the kind of man who could look at the world with a level head.

Yet, ever since he met you, ever since he’s fallen for you, built his life, his universe about you — his life had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. You brought out something in him that was unfamiliar and unsettling—a possessiveness, an insecurity that gnawed at him whenever he saw the way others looked at you. 

As he sat next to you on the sun-kissed beach, the warm Malaysian sunbathing you both in a golden glow, Nanami Kento found it difficult to fully relax. This was supposed to be your quality time, the belated honeymoon you both had both worked so hard to carve out from your hard and demanding schedules. For once, he had managed to take time off from his life as a sorcerer, a rare break that was meant to be a celebration of your love, their commitment to each other. 

You were just as busy as he was, if not more. As a lawyer, you were brilliant, successful, and independent. You made more than he did, something that had never bothered him—until now. Not because of pride, but because it made him realize just how much you had to offer. You could have anyone, and yet you had chosen him. The thought should have been reassuring, but instead, it only added to his insecurity.

Instead of peace, he found himself caught up in a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just his possessiveness—it was the realization that, for the first time in his life, he was vulnerable. He was vulnerable because he loved you so deeply, because the thought of losing you, or of someone else taking your attention, filled him with a fear he didn’t know how to handle. 

Kento couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you lay on the sunbed, basking in the warm Malaysian sun. The way the golden rays kissed your skin, making it glow, had him utterly captivated. You were wearing the tightest two-piece bikini, a vibrant floral design that contrasted beautifully against your sun-kissed skin. The colors brought out the vibrancy of your figure, accentuating every curve in a way that made his heart race.

He watched as you stretched languidly, your body moving with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly to him. The sunlight danced across your skin, highlighting the delicate contours of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your waist, the length of your legs.

Every inch of you was perfection in his eyes, and it drove him mad how stunning you were. But it wasn’t just your physical beauty that had him so entranced; it was the knowledge that you were his, that this incredible, breathtaking person had chosen him.

His gaze lingered on your face, where a peaceful smile played on your lips, your eyes closed as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun. The gentle breeze teased a few strands of your hair, brushing them across your forehead, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He loved these quiet moments, where he could just watch you, memorize the way you looked in the golden light, the way the sun turned your hair into a halo of warmth.

You were the most beautiful being to ever exist to him, and the thought made his chest tighten with a mix of pride and disbelief. How had he been so fortunate? What had he done to deserve someone like you in his life?

The longer he watched you, the more he felt that familiar, possessive edge creeping in. It was a feeling he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, one that he had never experienced before you came into his life. He had never thought of himself as the jealous type, but when it came to you, something primal and protective stirred within him. He didn’t want anyone else to look at you the way he did, to see what he saw, to appreciate the way you made the world a brighter, more beautiful place just by existing.

And yet, as he sat there, he knew that others couldn’t help but notice you too. It was impossible not to. You were radiant, magnetic, and he could see the way people’s gazes lingered on you, the appreciative looks that followed you whenever you walked by. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to do something irrational, to pull you close and stake his claim in front of everyone.

Kento could see the way men’s eyes lingered on you, the admiration in their gazes as they took in your beauty. It made his blood boil in a way he wasn’t proud of. He wanted to stand up, to make it clear that you were his, that no one else had the right to look at you like that. But he stayed silent, gripping your hand a little tighter, hoping the feeling would pass.

You opened your eyes, and your gaze met his. The smile that spread across your face was one of pure love, your eyes softening as you looked at him. In that moment, all his insecurities melted away. You were his, and he was yours. It was as simple as that.

Kento leaned back in his chair, his own smile tugging at his lips as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, your expression playful as you caught him staring.

“See something you like?” you teased, your voice light and full of affection.

“Always, my love.” he replied, his voice deep and sincere. His gaze never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the intensity of his feelings reflected in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Kento couldn’t help but grin at that, though his expression quickly turned serious again. “It drives me mad, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “How beautiful you are. How you’re mine.”

The way he said it, with such raw emotion, made your heart flutter. There was something in his tone, something almost possessive, that sent a shiver down your spine. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything, it made you feel even closer to him, knowing that he felt so deeply for you.

“And you’re mine.” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. The simple touch seemed to calm him, his fingers threading through yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes narrowed on him. “Only mine.”

And then there was your possessiveness. You couldn’t deny it—you were just as bad as he was when it came to jealousy. You tried to play it cool, but the truth was, you were no better at hiding it than he was. The moment you noticed the women stealing glances at him, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders, his chiseled features, you felt a wave of irritation wash over you.

It was subtle, but Kento could sense the tension in you, the way your posture stiffened, the way you shifted closer to him, almost instinctively, as if to stake your claim. You wanted the world to know that this man was yours and yours alone.

Just as it does now.

Because if you were being honest, your husband was the most beautiful man in the world. With his muscular build and tall six-foot frame, he was the epitome of masculine perfection. The way his long, muscular arms held that beer bottle in his massive palm, the casual strength in his grip, made your heart flutter. His chiseled jaw tightened as he glanced in the direction of the men who had dared to look your way, his bright brown eyes narrowing in a clear, unmistakable warning. He didn’t have to say a word—the message was loud and clear: stay away.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. This man belonged to you, and he wanted everyone to be sure that they knew it. There was something undeniably satisfying about the way he made it so obvious, so deliberate. And you knew that he felt the same way about you. 

His gaze flicked back to you, softening when he saw the look in your eyes. It was a look that said, “I’m yours.” and it made your heart swell with love and possessiveness all over again.

You didn’t care if it was irrational, if it was a little bit crazy—this man was yours, and you were his. And you wanted everyone to know that you belonged to each other, that nothing and no one could come between you.

Kento must have sensed your thoughts, because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You know you’re the only one I see, right?”

His voice was deep, reassuring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I know, babe." you whispered back, your fingers curling around his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper, something more primal. “Good.” he said, his tone possessive and full of promise. “Because I’m not about to let anyone forget that you’re mine either.”

You grinned at that, the fiery possessiveness in his words matching your own. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that neither of you would ever let anyone come between what you had. Because you both knew that what you had was rare, precious, and worth protecting at all costs.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. This beautiful, strong, and fiercely loyal man was yours. And you were his.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, savoring the way he responded, the way his arm tightened around you just a little bit more. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you felt for him, everything you both felt for each other. This man belonged to you, and you belonged to him. And nothing in the world could change that.

It was a strange sort of dance, the two of you caught in a loop of possessiveness that neither could quite break free from. And yet, there was something oddly reassuring about it. In a world where you both faced so many uncertainties, where danger lurked around every corner, this shared jealousy was a reminder that you were both fiercely committed to each other. It wasn’t healthy, Kento knew that, but it was real. Even if you weren’t proud of it, even if Kento wasn’t proud of it — it was real. Between the two of you. It was love for you.

Still, the women’s gazes hadn’t wavered, you noticed. Their eyes still linger on your husband as if they had every right to admire him. The sight made your blood simmer, a protective, possessive streak flaring to life within you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kento—he was as loyal as they came—but you didn’t appreciate the way they were looking at him, as if he were something to be desired, something they could claim if they tried hard enough.

Your grip on his hand tightened as you leaned closer and you cast a glance in his direction. Kento, ever composed, was doing his best to ignore the attention, but you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered to you as if seeking reassurance. He puts away the beer bottle on the side and looks to you again. 

A grin slowly spread across your lips as an idea formed. If those women wanted to look at your husband, you’d give them something to see—a clear, undeniable reminder that he was yours. You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

Kento looked down at you, a question in his eyes, but before he could ask, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a hot, passionate kiss. The world around you faded as you poured all your love, your possessiveness, your desire into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a statement. A declaration that this man, this incredible, strong, loyal man, was yours. And no one else had any right to him. He only belongs to you. Only you.

Kento’s initial surprise melted away as he responded in kind, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body relaxed into yours as if nothing else mattered. Kento’s arms slowly wrap around the small of your back, kissing you even deeper. 

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the effect it had on him, the way his eyes had darkened with desire, the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips. You glanced over at the women who had been ogling him earlier. Their expressions had shifted—some were embarrassed, others annoyed, but all of them had gotten the message loud and clear.

Triumph surged through you as you turned back to Kento, your grin widening. “I think they got the point, babe.” you whispered, your voice teasing.

Kento chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips as if to savor the moment. “I believe they did.” he murmured, his tone filled with warmth and a hint of amusement. “Though I must admit, I didn’t mind that at all.”

“Then…..can we continue this upstairs?”

Your husband’s eyes narrow, almost awakening something in him. “What do you have in mind?”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

YOU DON’T THINK YOU WOULD EVER GET TIRED OF HIM. Nanami Kento always made you feel so many things—desire, love, passion—and you loved every bit of it. The tension between you had been building ever since that heated kiss on the beach, and as you made your way back to your hotel room, it only grew stronger.

Each step, each shared glance, every subtle touch added fuel to the fire burning between you. The anticipation was electric, and by the time you reached the door, it was like a dam waiting to burst.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the restraint you’d both been holding onto snapped. You pressed yourself against him, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that had your head spinning. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t close the gap between you fast enough. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate, as you both succumbed to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you back toward the bed as he claimed your mouth over and over again, each kiss more intense than the last.

You could feel his desire, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the low growl that rumbled in his chest as you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. The moment the fabric hit the floor, his lips were back on yours, his hands working to free you from your bikini. The way he touched you, with a mix of reverence and raw need, sent shivers down your spine. He breaks the kiss.

“Kento, Kento….” you breathed finally, your voice trembling with anticipation as you felt his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, untying the strings of your bikini, and the sensation of the cool air against your bare skin only heightened the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back for just a moment, his gaze sweeping over you with a look of pure, unfiltered desire. “You’re perfect, my love.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, before his lips were back on yours, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.

Your hands found their way to the waistband of his beach shorts, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed them down, the fabric pooling at his feet. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hard, muscular frame pressed against you, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

The bed hit the back of your knees, and before you knew it, you were tumbling onto the soft sheets, Kento following you down, his body covering yours in an instant. The weight of him, the feel of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. He presses his lips against yours again, the heat between your bodies burning you even more.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he was trying to memorize you all over again. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, the heat of him throbbing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck once again and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, combined with the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, was almost too much to bear.

“Kento, babe.” you gasped, your voice breaking as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin there in a way that made you arch against him, desperate for more. “It’s so….it’s so hot.”

“Tell me what you want, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with need.

“You.” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. “I want you, Kento.”

The way he responded, with a deep, guttural groan, sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. It was as though he found home again. You groaned as you felt his hands explore the exposed skin. He was enjoying this, you knew. He enjoyed teasing you.

“God, Kento.” you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. He was driving you wild, his touch lighting you up in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You needed more, needed him closer, needed to feel him in every possible way..

You could feel him pressing against you, his lips returning to yours in a kiss that was just as intense as before. It was almost too much, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours, the way his hands moved with such skill and tenderness, the way every inch of him seemed to be in tune with your needs.

The anticipation was building, the need for him becoming overwhelming as you felt his fingers deftly undo the last of your bikini top. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between the two of you. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, the desperate longing for him growing with each passing second.

Kento’s touch was everything—gentle and firm, demanding and patient all at once. The way he handled you, the way he made you feel, it was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn’t get enough. You wanted more, needed more, and he seemed more than willing to give it to you. He liked to give you more and more, to satiate your greed.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt both familiar and electrifyingly new. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, and the occasional, intoxicating moans that slipped from your lips as Kento's hands roamed over your bare skin.

His touch was a maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, each caress lighting a fire inside you that grew with every passing moment. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the softness of thighs, lingering just long enough to make you gasp before moving on. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as his lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at every sensitive spot he could find.

You arched your back as his mouth moved lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. He took his time, savoring every inch of you as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. You moaned his name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him on.

Kento responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating against your skin as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body reacting with a surge of heat that pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness there, the way your body was aching for him, and you knew that he could feel it too.

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before dipping between your thighs. The first touch of his fingers against your slick heat made you cry out, your hips bucking involuntarily as you pressed yourself against his hand. He moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you with light, feathery touches that only made your desire grow stronger.

You could feel the tension building inside you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable as he continued to tease you. His fingers slipped between your folds, stroking you with a skill that had your head spinning. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. One after another, it was a pandemonium of pleasure. When you came, you sobbed as you felt his fingers tighten against your crevices.

“Kento, babe. Please.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, I need you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, and that knowledge sent a thrill of excitement through you.He removed his fingers, licking them clean one after another, enjoying the taste of you. The sight of him made you even more wet.

“What do you want, my love?” He cooed at you. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside, Kento.” You muttered, your eyes beaming with pleasure. “Please, babe. Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his dear love. With a practiced ease, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he guided himself to your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your swollen folds, and you could feel the heat of him, the way his length stretched you as he slowly pushed inside.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely making you gasp for air. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

Kento moved with deliberate, measured thrusts, each one sending a wave of ecstasy through your body that made your vision blur. He was gentle but firm, his pace steady as he worked to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he stretched you, filled you, in a way that made you feel utterly complete.

Your moans filled the room, each one growing louder as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a growing urgency. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound almost drowned out by the symphony of your lovemaking. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the familiar pressure building as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I’m… I’m so close, babeeeeee!” you breathed out, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of a powerful release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

“Let go, love.” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

His words were all you needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body shattering into a million pieces as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last.

Kento followed you into bliss, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release overtaking him. You could feel the warmth of him spilling into you, the way his body trembled against yours as he groaned your name, his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the world stood still. All you could feel was him, all you could hear was the sound of your racing hearts and the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. He stayed inside you, his body pressed against yours as you both came down from the high, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

Slowly, he pulled out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness that was quickly replaced by the warmth of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you close, holding you against his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, love.” he whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “So much.”

“I love you too, babe.” you murmured back, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body was spent, completely exhausted from the intensity of your lovemaking, but you felt content, safe, and utterly cherished in his arms.

As you lay there together, his arms tighten around you as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, with the warmth of his body against yours and the sound of the waves crashing outside, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—right here, in his arms, for as long as you both lived.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

epilogue

Later that evening, after the intensity of your earlier moments had faded into a comfortable, blissful haze, you found yourself curled up against Kento’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. You sighed, almost as though you were the most content in your entire life.

He’d already made sure to take care of you and clean you up, even making you some tea so that you could relax on your shared bed. And you love him for it. He always spoils you to no end. The sound of the waves outside your window was a soothing backdrop, lulling you into a state of utter contentment. 

As you lay there, a thought popped into your mind, one that made you grin mischievously. You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Kento, babe.” you began, your tone teasing, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at you, his expression warm and relaxed, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?”

He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.”

“Well, babe.” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.”

“And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead.” you announced with a grin.

There was a moment of silence as Kento processed what you’d just said. His usually stoic expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to determine whether or not you were serious. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and it only made it harder for you to hold back your laughter. He looked cute, when he's thinking, you like to believe.

“A… house–husband?” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word out on his tongue.

“Yes! A house–husband, babe.” you confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “You’d be amazing at it! You could cook, clean, and take care of everything at home while I go to work. And you’d never have to worry about exorcisms or curses or any of that dangerous stuff ever again.”

Kento blinked at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing again as he reconsidered. Finally, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And what would I do all day at your house–husband?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find plenty to do, babe.” you replied, barely able to keep a straight face. “You could perfect your cooking skills, learn how to fold the perfect fitted sheet, maybe even take up knitting! Plus, you’d have plenty of time to dote on me when I come home from work. Maybe even meet the old ladies at the corner store! They really like zumba, just as much as you do.”

At that, Kento let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Knitting, huh? I didn’t realize that was part of the job description.”

“Well, it’s optional.” you conceded with a giggle. “But I think you’d be really good at it.”

Kento shook his head, clearly amused by your antics. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious.” you replied, though the twinkle in your eyes betrayed your true intentions. “I mean, think about it. No more dangerous missions, no more fighting curses. Just a quiet, peaceful life at home with me. Grow old together and me spoiling my husband with bringing in the dough and you spoiling me with all your love. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He considered it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It does sound nice.” he admitted, his tone still teasing. “But I’m not sure how I’d feel about giving up my job to become a… house–husband.”

“Oh, come on.” you coaxed, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You’d love it. And I’d love coming home to you every day. Plus, you’d look really cute in an apron.”

That finally did it. Your husband Kento burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. You couldn’t help but join in, your own laughter mingling with his as you both imagined the ridiculousness of the idea. But you suppose the ridiculousness of it is what made it so touching. Life is always strange anyway, you think. And he knows that too. 

When the laughter finally subsided, Kento leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate the thought.” he said, his voice full of affection. “But for now,  I think I’ll stick to being a sorcerer for now. Though I have to admit, the idea of being your house–husband is tempting.”

“Tempting enough to reconsider?” you asked with a grin, though you knew his answer.

“Not quite, love.” he replied, chuckling. “But I’ll keep it in mind as a backup plan.”

“Deal.” you agreed, snuggling closer to him. “But just so you know, I’m not giving up on the idea entirely. You’d make an excellent house–husband. Mine only, of course.”

Kento smiled down at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “And you’d make an excellent lawyer who brings home the bacon.”

“Then it’s settled.” you said, laughing. “We’ll just have to make sure you stay safe so I don’t have to resort to plan B.”

“With you by my side, love?  I have no doubt I will.” he murmured, kissing you softly as you both settled back into the peaceful, contented silence of the evening.

[calmcoldevening]

Can you pls do slashers x reader who is very girly❤❤

It's ok if you don't want to do it!❤

Hey, of course I'll write it. Well, I didn't know which slashers you want, so I chose these four. If you want another slashers, just let me know, kitten ♡

I'm sorry it turned out so little, I'm just not good at 'girly' things

Slashers x girly!reader

Characters: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

Michael Myers

• He doesn't care. Michael absolutely does not care what you look like or what you wear, his affection is much deeper than external indicators.

• Although he doesn't particularly like it when you wear dresses or skirts that are too revealing. Michael sees people staring at you in the streets with hungry eyes. Because of this, he becomes very possessive. He will keep an eye on you on the streets with special care so that nothing happens to you.

• He likes your hips in dresses. After a long day, he just likes to put his hands under the fabric of your dress and squeeze your hips, his head resting on your stomach. You are his place of comfort.

• You are the only person whose feelings are even a little important to him. He'll be able to listen to you, but don't expect an extremely vivid reaction. If you're crying and you need comfort, the most he'll do is pull you onto his lap and hold you close, grumbling through his mask into your hair.

• He absolutely loves your shampoos and floral perfume. Amidst all the vulgarity of the modern world, you were his personal delicate flower.

• In general, such dynamics would be very much to Michael's liking. He is such a strong and big man and you are his little thing. He would be quite attentive, protective and dominant. If possible (if I remembered) Michael would bring you some trinkets, maybe even flowers.

Jason Voorhees

• Jason would be absolutely happy to be your partner. He would be as gentle, caring and attentive as possible. Jason is basically quite lonely, he lacks love and attention, and you are all so gentle and beautiful, like a young spring flower, he will love you with all his heart and protect you.

• Gives you flowers, teddy bears, all sorts of nonsense for no particular reason. He especially likes to collect flowers for you in the forest in a neat bouquet and tie it with a generic ribbon. Yes, it may not be a bouquet from the store, but it is made with all the love.

• He can listen for hours as you tell him about your makeup or some cute girly stuff. He will be very attentive. And although Jason doesn't understand everything about it, he will try to remember what you like. He really cares about your interests and tastes.

• If you make new nails, he will have a very violent reaction. Jason knows how important attention is to you, so when you come home with a new manicure, he will almost faint from such beauty. A man will gently take your smooth hands and gently kiss your beautiful fingers in turn. You are his treasure.

• Jason absolutely accepts and supports you, regardless of how you like to behave or dress. It will support all your new hobbies and help you if necessary.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba will squeal with joy when he finds out about your interests. In principle, he just liked to see you, so fragile and sweet against his background, in dresses, and now he finds out that you are interested in many different things... He loves you with all his heart.

• Bubba was fond of makeup and all that even before he met you, so now he will shyly ask you to teach him how to make up as beautifully as you do. His ears are red, and his gaze is fixed on the floor, he is a little ashamed to ask for such a thing. After all, he's such a big, tough man, but he trusts you.

• Very protective, especially from his brothers. He won't let anyone touch you.

• If you love cooking, he will be even more crazy about you. He's a pretty big boy, so he likes to eat delicious food. Hugs you tightly every time you cook your next incredibly wonderful dish. You have to eat, he has to do the dishes, he doesn't want you to ruin your delicate hands.

• Loves carrying you in her arms. He basically likes your size difference, it makes him feel like your protector. Madly in love with you and your personality, he won't let anyone hurt you.

Thomas Hewitt

• Thomas has wanted to have a sweet little wife and start a family with her all his life, but he didn't think anyone would really love him. And then you showed up. So sweet, beautiful, small and innocent. He's crazy about you.

• On the one hand, he is a strong, courageous and caring man who will try to do whatever you want for you, he always tries to make you happy. But on the other hand, in your gentle embrace, he turns into a stupid little boy who only wants attention from his beautiful wife.

• Thomas is very protective of you. He would not allow any of the victims to lay a finger on his fragile sweet lover. If they dare to look at you lasciviously, Thomas will rip out their eyes without a twinge of conscience. You made him change for the better with your bright and pure soul, but he still remains a violent maniac, so he won't let anyone offend you.

• Now he treats female victims a little more carefully. He tries not to spoil their jewelry or things, in case you want to take some of it for yourself. In addition, he takes special care to take the victims' suitcases out of their cars and checks for any trinkets that you might like.

• Can't stand the looks of Hoyt and Monty on you. When you walk around the house in a skirt or dress, Thomas tries to be close to you and hug you around the waist, covering your hips with his big hand. You are only his treasure.

[r0-boat]

Love your work I just read your poly wrio neuvi a/b/o with reader and it was so good! Could we get a part two of more information? Like what is it like when readers in heat or when wrio has his rut. Your writing is ❤️❤️

Yes I can totally do a part two!

Alpha Wriothesley x omega reader x alpha Neuvillette headcannons part 2

Nsfw

Author's notes:

I usually try not to give reader too much headcanons because I want to leave just enough wiggle room for you guys to imagine your own scenarios but in this one ill add more

Wriothesley does behave(ish)during his ruts. That doesn't mean he wants to, though... If anything he just gets more possessive and touchy. However when you are the overseer and warden of an entire prison you have to at least keep yourself sane till the end of your shift.

Wriothesley The first thing he does when he gets home is rip off your clothes. His hunger for sex is unlimited always down to fuck Even when he's buried in paperwork.(maybe that's the reason why his ruts aren't that bad? Or maybe he's just good at hiding it ;) )

Wriothesley is an alpha and seems dominant, but he likes being a pillow princess. He likes laying down and having you play with him till he's had enough, then he flips you over and takes control.

While Neuvillette smells like rainwater in a forest, Wriothesley smells like the sea with a hint of a floral sense of whatever tea he had that day mixed with his cologne. And he is shameful about presenting his scent as powerful and prideful; he does not use scent blockers at all. He's a prideful Alpha and likes presenting even more so now that he knows that even Neuvillette turns his head to it.

Wriothesley's scent blends so well with the sea water and the fortress that the only ones who can successfully pick it out are the inmates and his partners, while he lays undetected by outsiders as long as he's in the fortress that is. He does not mind his powerful scent in fact he prefers it. Keeps people obedient, not wanting to do stupid shit. As soon as they smell him coming around, They immediately straighten out their backs and cower.

They will never know how much of a sweetheart your partner actually is.

And then there's you. During your heat You are the only one that can sedate Wriothesley's large sexual appetite and still come your other partner for more. Bratty yet obedient just the way Wriothesley likes it.

Though he cannot help but joke about how good and obedient you are with Neuvillette and not him. Which Neuvillette is quick too crack a smile and say "You just need to train them better."

And when your heat strikes, you're even more unsatiable. But that's probably because your heat's hurt so damn much that you could hardly even think. Well, it's good thing You're two partners like it a little rougher. Your heat's hit you like a train. Once you can feel your pre-heat, you only have a matter of time before it hits you. The next day, He will be feeling whimpering and pulling while trying to give one of your partners a surprise awakening.

Your body is super hot yet cold screaming at you too seek the warmth of your partners. And how busy they can be the only thing that can sedate you or toys until one of them gets home. And when they do... You will rejoice in the dicking you will receive.

Neuvillette has tried to urge you to take suppressants because he hates seeing you hot and writhing, almost in pain. But he understands when you say no because after suppressants, it will just get worse.

Your scent is a calming lavender. You're like catnip to your overworked partners rubbing against you and bearing their face in your neck, holding you close. You can practically hear them purring like kittens. It's cute until you are being crushed by two big men who haven't slept in days.

[live-laugh-lenney]

A little bit of smut please🫣

Lingerie reaction for Arthur and George

i don't think i've done any kind of mature content for either of them yet so... jeez, i hope this is okay... i'm gonna write this for arthur, right now, and then maybe we can discuss george and his missus in lingerie...

arthur loves lingerie.

for someone that portrays himself as awkward and shy and almost completely innocent and practically virginal, he had a side to him that always sprung out whenever he was home alone with his girlfriend. a side that only came when he knew she had something special that she wanted to show him. a side that made him seem like a menace, almost like he was a horny teenage boy who had been left alone with his female celebrity crush, becoming touchy and needy.

she teases him.

she'll wear the lingerie beneath an article of his clothing that she had chosen to wear for the evening as they wound down from their busy days. whether it be his adidas jumper (which she loves and definitely stole from his wardrobe) or one of his baggy tees, it would be all she used as a cover up... stretching the neck so it showed her bra strap to tease him a touch when they were sat on the sofa and having it rolled up at the hem so her knickers were on show as she reached up high for the snacks on the top shelf in his kitchen... and she could hear his breath hitching in his throat when he realised just what she was upto.

"can you come and grab the biscuits from the top shelf?"

"you can get them," he hums from the sofa and he really didn't want to stand to his feet because the bulge in his pants had become even more prominent than he had hoped it would be, "i like the view from here."

"you're just a little pervert," she rolled her eyes and she's glad she has her back to him so he can't see the smirk that's sitting on her lips, "i just need some help from my very tall, very handsome man who just has the advantage."

"what do i get out of it?"

"a happy girlfriend," she retorts and he scoffs and rolls his eyes, his gaze barely leaving the plump cheeks of her bum and the floral lace that clung to her flesh, "please?"

she can hear him stand up, she can hear his feet padding across the open plan living room slash kitchen and she shudders at the feeling of his hands cupping her waist as she regained her normal height and stood back on flat feet rather than her tiptoes, teasingly brushing her behind against his crotch and feeling the result that she expected.

"you knew what you were doing," he whispers lowly, almost growling in her ear, and he traps her between the kitchen counter and his body and she makes no attempt at making a move away from him, "you're just a tease. a bloody tease."

"it worked though," she states, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her figure still, his hips slowly rocking back and forth and she could feel the friction of their clothes rubbing together, "what are you going to do?"

he turns her around and she takes a look at his face; his cheeks are pink, his eyes are darker, his jaw is tense and his lips are damp and wet from his tongue. hoisting her up on the kitchen counter and she needed no encouragement in undoing the knot of his bottoms and using her heels to push them to the floor, pooling at his ankles. his boxers stretching to accommodate the boner he was sporting. his fingers slide across the crotch of her knickers and she feels the chill in the air against her damp folds and he wastes no time in teasing at the bundle of nerves between her thighs... enough to make his cock twitch in his pants and she felt bad for keeping him restrained... her own fingers hooking into the elastic of his boxer shorts and pulling them down to his knees, freeing him and letting the cool air hit his exposed skin.

"where did you get this from?" he asks, lips brushing against hers as he leaned in for a kiss, his warm breath washing over her face and her own catches in her throat, his fingers collecting the moisture that was forming and coating his digits, "it's a shame you couldn't show me the whole thing."

"you were just too eager," she informs him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and her fingers digging into his hair, tugging at the tufts at the nape of his neck, "too eager. that was the plan."

"the plan on being fucked on the counter?" he questions and she can feel her cheeks flushing at the words rolling off of his tongue, "that was what you wanted, huh?"

"need to leave a memory in every room for you to remember," she grins and his lips greet hers with a hungry smooch that involved his tongue leaving his mouth and fighting against hers, her arms pulling him close and his hands gripping at her waist, pulling her closer and allowing the glistening tip of his cock to brush against her inner thigh and silently informing her just how needy he was, "it's all yours, baby."

and he doesn't need coaxing. he gave himself a couple of pumps with the fingers he used to spread her juices across the heat between her legs and lines himself up, gulping thickly and maintaining deep eye contact with her as he pushes his hips forward and fills her up with his entirety. her head rolling back and a deep, guttural groan rolling of her tongue from deep within her, matching the whimper that left his mouth as he pauses for a moment to let her adjust around his girth.

her sleeve-covered hands remain on his shoulders, her fingers still holding onto his hair with a tight grip in each fist, and she shudders and the goosebumps rise upon her skin as he attaches his lips to her neck and covers her skin with the softest kisses, his hips rocking back and forth and back and forth as he filled her with pleasure. her begs for him to go deeper filling the room, their heavy breathing and their heavy panting filling the gaps, her name escaping his mouth as she cries out from the thrill happening in that moment.

"let me know when," he insists, his hands trailing underneath the hem of the jumper on her body, his fingertips brushing over her bare skin, "let me know."

she nods and he drops his forehead to hers, eyes looking deeply into hers, and she can feel her toes beginning to curl. her thighs clench and she brings him closer by digging her heels into the base of his back, her hands cupping his cheeks and her mouth drop further and further open with each thrust he pushes into her, twitching between her walls and she swears, every single time, that he always knows the right spot and hits it every time.

"so good," she pants and she can feel the ache beginning to form in her belly, a burning sensation as she feels herself getting closer and closer to a release, "i'm so close, baby."

"so close," he repeats for himself and the sounds of his thrust start sounding sloppy and wet and he grunts out with a rasp in his throat and feels himself start to get weak at the knees, "c'mon, lovie. cum for me."

and it's all she needs to feel herself tense and clench down on his cock, their releases mixing together, and his rhythm becomes almost unrhythmic and each thrust is sporadic and almost like a burst of energy urges his hips forward. his head dropping to her shoulder, slowing his hips down, as she drops her cheek to the top of his head and squeezes her eyes shut.

"you're the best," he whispers into the cotton, sniffling before he lifts his head to look at her. his entire face glistening with sweat, his lips swollen from their kisses, his cheeks pink and his eyes no longer dark but full of lust and post-sex that always made him look heavenly, "the best."

he slowly pulls himself from within her and reaches down to pull his boxers back to his hips, followed by his bottoms, and she covers up by adjusting her knickers, knowing everything they were wearing was going to need to go in the next days wash. his arms wrap around her waist and her legs hook around his, her arms sitting on his shoulders, and he lifts her from the counter. koala-clinging to his front as he makes his way back to the sofa, making a mental reminder to give the kitchen counter a proper deep-clean before they went to bed... before anyone came back from their saturday night on the town... before george and arthur and chris had any inclination as to what had just happened.

"you'll wear that for me again, right?" he asks her and she yawns, nodding softly, "good."

"what did you think of it?"

"it's the sexiest one yet," he hums into her hair, pressing a kiss to her head before he closed his eyes, the feeling of her tucking the blanket around them making him feel cosy, "you can choose the movie. i'm too knackered to even think about those decisions right now."

"how about we just... go to bed?"

"i can't go again," he laughs softly and she scoffs and pushes his chest with her hands, "it's only half nine. we've got ages before the lads are back." xx

[lemoniiiiiii]

things never change (pt. 2)

(post-prison!warren lipka x fem!reader) in where you cross paths with an old friend

content: angst, some fluff? maybe?

a/n: this was really fun to write in the most awful way my heart is sobbing. but i've always wanted to write a post-prison!warren fic so.. yay?

part 2 requested by @tracysent!

(here's part 1 if you haven't read)

--

when warren had left your unconscious body on the couch he returned to ghosting you. you thought you'd never see him again, until about a year later when your mom called you and told you to put on the news. "4 college students arrested for attempted robbery at transylvania university" was the headline. the story dominated local channels for weeks.

ultimately, your father never pressed charges against warren for stealing his painting. the monet remained exactly where it had been, still the centerpiece of the room—though now sporting a few dings and dents on the frame. nothing you couldn't replace without him noticing.

when your father heard the news, he practically jumped for joy.

"i told you that boy was nothing but trouble!" he exclaimed, his hands planted firmly on his hips as the screen showed four figures in orange jumpsuits walking out of the courthouse. "i'm glad he got out of your life when he did. couldn't imagine what it would've been like if, god forbid, he had gotten you wrapped up in something like this."

warren had already broken your heart twice. this time, he completely shattered your sense of self. did he ever care about you? had he only gotten close because you were well-off? or was it that the painting on the wall, the dream of quick riches, was just so much more enticing and valuable to him than you were?

you had talked to him about it before... dreams. warren fantasized about a life, outside of kentucky, maybe starting on a yacht in the bahamas and then traveling the world. it seemed so outlandish from the empty parking lot you were sharing a joint in, but you admired his ambition. to think you would've followed that idiot anywhere he went. hell and back. anything he would do, anything he went through, you would've been by his side. but now the reality was clear: your relationship was a one-way street that went miles on.

even though that night he had told you that he missed you, that he loved you while you lay underneath him. it was all just a mental diversion. a way to keep you docile while he served the only person he loved: himself.

it took years to put yourself back together, to trust again, to believe that someone could love you without an ulterior motive.

that near decade of work— therapy, long conversations with friends, countless nights of self-reflection— was put to the test in one moment.

"..y/n?"

you looked up from your laptop, startled. there, standing before you in a philadelphia café, was none other than warren lipka. his long hair, once wild and untamed, was now brushed back, though a few loose waves still escaped from behind his ears, giving him that same effortlessly disheveled look you had once found so endearing. he had grown a short beard, the kind that hinted at maturity but still carried a touch of the boyish charm you remembered. despite the years that had passed, his face was almost exactly as you remembered—those sharp, familiar features that had once been the center of your world.

especially that damn smile of his.

"mind if i sit?"

you nodded, motioning to the chair across from you. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating. after all, with work, you hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"i almost didn't come over, you know—didn't think it was you," he admitted, taking a seat. "but you know what tipped me off? that necklace."

you looked down at the delicate silver necklace, the one your grandmother had given you on your 16th birthday. the pendant, a small locket engraved with intricate floral designs, had once been her most cherished possession. when she placed it around your neck, she had told you stories of her youth, of love lost and found, of the strength she had needed to build a life on her own. she had smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and warmth, and said, "this is yours now. a reminder that you're never truly alone, no matter where life takes you."

after she passed, the necklace became more than just a piece of jewelry. it was a tangible connection to her, to her wisdom and her love, something that kept you grounded when the world felt too overwhelming. you took a vow to never take it off for any reason, except to clean it. to you, it was as much a part of you as your own heartbeat.

you had shared this with warren one night, during one of your midnight dates. about your grandmother, about the promise you’d made to yourself regarding the necklace. it wasn’t a story you shared with many people, and when you spoke, you did so almost absentmindedly, not expecting him to truly listen. but he did.

"when did you…?" you started to ask, unsure how to finish. no one had told you warren had been released.

"almost three years ago," he replied, looking down at the table. "did seven years and some change."

"wow…" the word slipped out before you could stop it. warren, who had valued his youth so much and feared wasting his life away, had lost the entirety of his 20's just like that. the fact that he had come out on the other side seemingly unscathed was astounding.

as the conversation continued, you found yourself slipping back into an easy rhythm with warren, the years of distance and pain seeming to fade with each exchange. he told you about how he had decided to go back to school for filmmaking. it was a surprise, but also somehow made perfect sense. warren had always been drawn to storytelling, whether it was through his wild, grandiose dreams of the future or the way he could captivate an entire room with a well-spun tale.

“it’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. “after everything, i realized i wanted to create something that actually mattered. something that could make people feel, you know? i guess sitting in a cell for years gives you a lot of time to think about what you really want to do with your life.”

you nodded, genuinely impressed by his determination. “filmmaking suits you, warren. i can see you doing great things with it.”

“thanks, it’s been a journey, but i’m excited to see where it leads.”

when the conversation shifted to your career, warren listened intently as you shared how you had built a successful career in business consulting. you explained how you had worked your way up, navigating the corporate world with determination and a relentless drive to succeed. you spoke of the challenges you faced, the late nights, the difficult decisions, and the satisfaction of seeing your efforts pay off. it wasn't quite what you imagined for yourself all those years ago but you were happy with what you had.

“yeah, i could tell you were a big shot,” warren grinned. “there was never a doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t be.”

“thanks…” you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

there was a brief pause, and you noticed warren’s expression shift to an almost hesitant look. he leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“can i say something?” he asked, his voice softening with a sincerity that was almost disarming. “might be crossing a line, but i have to say it… you look just as fucking beautiful as the last time i saw you.”

the world stood still, frozen, as you processed his words. you felt your breath catch, your pulse quicken as you searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was a raw honesty that left you momentarily speechless.

“warren…” the way he was looking at you, as if no time had passed at all, threw you for a loop.

"i know, i know," he chuckled, looking down as he fiddled with a sugar packet. "don't want to get myself in trouble with your husband—or wife… whatever…"

"i'm… actually single…"

warren stopped fiddling with the sugar packet and looked up at you, his gaze steady. he didn't move his head, just stared at you for a long moment before shifting in his chair, his eyes drifting off to the young couple seated nearby. you had noticed them too when you first walked in.

"make sense kinda... you're genuinely too good for anybody, anyway. deserve way better than what most people have to offer.."

a heavy silence settled between you and the sounds of the bustling café faded into the background, except for the laughter of the couple nearby. their easy, carefree joy was a stark contrast to the weight of the moment you were sharing with warren. each second of silence felt like an eternity, amplifying the pain and confusion swirling inside you.

finally, warren broke the silence. "i’m sorry—and i know that when i say that word, you have no reason to believe me—but i am. it haunts me, the things i've done… leaving you there…" you could see the struggle in his eyes, the guilt that had clearly been gnawing at him for years.

you wanted to brush it off, to protect yourself from the flood of emotions that his words were stirring up. "that was 10 years ago," you replied quickly. "no need to bring it up."

warren shook his head, not ready to let it go. "i just wanted you to know that i loved you...i tried to convince myself that i didn’t… that what we had wasn’t real. i hadn’t even planned on seeing you again until i got desperate for cash and wanted to skip town. my biggest mistake was leaving your bed that night."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over the walls you had so carefully built around your heart. tears began welling up in your eyes, the sting of emotions you thought you had buried long ago. you turned your head, looking away, desperately trying to compose yourself, to regain the control that was slipping through your fingers.

but then, warren's hands gently clasped around yours. the warmth of his touch was both familiar and jarring, sending a shiver through you. you had thought you were over this—over him. you had convinced yourself that seeing him again would be nothing more than a footnote in your life, a chance to hear him out and move on, finally closing that chapter for good.

but all those preparations, all the mental rehearsals of how you would remain composed, indifferent even, had crumbled the moment he smiled at you. that damn smile, the one that had always been able to disarm you, to make you forget all the reasons you should be guarded.

as he held your hands, you could feel the sincerity in his grip, the way his fingers tightened slightly, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might slip away again. the flood of memories, the good and the bad, rushed back, and the tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free. you blinked rapidly, trying to push them back. you didn’t want him to see you like this, to know just how much he still affected you.

warren’s gaze softened as he watched you, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “but i need you to know that i never stopped thinking about you. even when i tried to convince myself that it was over, that we were done… i couldn’t let go. i still can’t.”

part of you wanted to pull away. but another part, the part that had loved him so fiercely all those years ago, wanted to hold on, to see if maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to salvage.

"i don't know if i can do this again... i- i hear you... i believe you it's just-"

“i understand,” he said quietly. “and i don’t expect you to just forgive me, or even give me a second chance. i’ve made too many mistakes for that. but… i want to try. i want to make things right. even if that means starting over, from scratch, just as friends.”

“friends,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. it felt strange, almost foreign, to think of warren as anything other than the boy who had broken your heart. but maybe, just maybe, this could be a new beginning—a way to heal, to move forward without being shackled by the past. "i'd like that"

"me too."

[munsonthings86]

hello, can I request a Steve Harrington fic where r working too hard for school and has been pulling all nighters frequently to keep track. R ends up being too tired and falling a little sick and not leaving the house except for when she has to go to school and her friends notice, Steve notices. Steve comes over, tries to help her and something along those lines. You can write it however you want, you can change it up if you want. Thank you :)

thank you for the request! tweaked it just a tiny bit, hope you enjoy :)

contains: cursing, fluff, overworked reader, soft!steve harrington, forgotten date, 1.0k words

School. Study. "Sleep". It was an endless, mind-numbing cycle that you were convinced was spiraling you into borderline madness. The condition of your bedroom was identical to how your brain had been feeling for the past week: cluttered and chaotic. With empty coffee cups littering your small floral desk, and your blush duvet covering more of the carpeted floor than your actual bed, you could hardly even recognize the room anymore.

The dirty laundry strewn across your floor would often trip you when you walked, but the assignments that you were practically drowning in made it impossible to shift your focus onto tidying the place.

You'd become a hermit; only leaving the comfort of your home to go to school and occasionally, the library, on the days that your room felt like more of a prison than a place of rest. Robin and Nancy, along with your boyfriend Steve, were certain you were avoiding them like the plague. They'd beg you to hangout with them, even bribing you by offering to treat you to lunch at the local diner, but the only thing you could say in return was a dry, "maybe later".

You didn't mean to be cold to them, but you were laser-focused on your agenda, determined to work first and play later. It's what led you to where you were now: head buried in your third textbook of the night, butt aching from being sat on your wooden chair for far too long.

On a Friday night of all.

From your window, you heard people, around your age you assumed, parading the streets and laughing loudly– enjoying their simple, young lives. Something you wished you could be doing too. But your work wasn't going to do itself.

You were color-coding the notes on your flashcard when three knocks sounded at your door, to which you mumbled a soft, "Come in," that even you barely heard. Your mother walked in, a mess of flour and an assortment of seasonings splotched on her apron from cooking dinner. "Honey, Steve's here," she smiled softly, though it was evident on her face that she was biting back the urge to tell you to clean your room, bless her.

The yellow highlighter you had was soon forgotten as your eyebrows furrowed, wondering what Steve was doing here. He usually called first.

Steve gave her a sweet grin when he passed her, leaving the door slightly cracked open, per your mothers request. In his hands he held a large box of pizza and a bouquet of pink roses; looking as dashing as ever with a crewneck and blue jeans adorning his body, with his hair being the perfect kind of messy.

You can't help but smile when you see him.

"Well, this is a rare sighting," he laughed, referring to you, "Should probably get this on camera." He kicked his white sneakers off where your own shoes were piled at, setting the pizza box down on your dresser.

"Very funny," you deadpanned, arms crossed on top of your chest. "What're you doing here?"

Steve approached you, something like a frown weighing on his lips. He taps the bouquet against his chest a couple times when he gently reminds you, "It's Friday."

You almost want to reach into your own body to catch your heart when you feel it completely sink. Friday's were you and Steve's designated date nights, never missing one since the two of you began dating a couple months ago. With the way you'd been so stressed and busy lately, it had completely slipped your mind. Suddenly, you felt incredibly guilty.

"Fuck," your head fell into your hands as you rubbed at your tired eyes, harshly. Your words were muffled when you continued, "I'm sorry, I'm the worst."

Steve shook his head almost instantly, gently resting the flowers down on the desk next to you. "Hey, c'mon," he started, moving your hands from your face, standing you up in front of him. "It's okay, I know you've been busy lately."

He rubbed at your shoulders tenderly and the warm touch melted you. It was the first time you truly relaxed that whole week. "You're not mad?" You asked the question in a hushed tone, looking up at him with glittering eyes that were a bit red, your nose a similar hue. You must've been getting sick. His poor baby.

"Not even a little," he gazed at you with heated, sincere brown eyes and you couldn't will yourself to look at anything else. He kissed your forehead, and it's a bit salty with sweat, but he doesn't mind. "Just worried, is all," he murmured, adjusting the pendant on your necklace that had somehow found its way onto your back.

"Can I help at all?" He nodded at the books on your table.

"Steve, no offense but it's AP Calc," you smiled, lightly scratching at his scalp when your arms found their way around his neck. You laughed when his eyebrows raised as if he was startled, slightly shaking his head. "Christ," he says through clenched teeth, though he doubles down on his offer, "well, then I guess I'm learning AP Calc today. No biggie," he shrugs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"You don't have to do that, Stevie," you spoke against his lips, admiring how unbelievably sweet your boyfriend was. You knew how much he hated school, especially math, so you were more than grateful that he was willing to put himself through quite literal torture, just to make your night a bit easier. "But I want to," he kissed your nose. "Dinner first though, 'cause I know you skipped out on lunch."

Squinting your eyes, you released your hold on him. Sometimes it scared you how well he knew you. "How-?"

"I have eyes everywhere, love," he answered your question before you could even get it out. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing at your lips, already knowing that his "eyes" in question were just Robin and Nancy looking out for you.

💌 1 new message from jojo: writing this while procrastinating on like ten assignments was so funny lol. comments and reblogs are always appreciated! inbox is open!

[redamancy-writes]

The Lost Boys (1987) x Fem! Reader - Blood Bag

AN: Hello! This is my first time writing for The Lost Boys, so I hope you all enjoy! Thank you @floral-and-fine​ for the support and the help working out some of the details on this ❣️

Word Count- 1383

Fandom- The Lost Boys 1987 

Pairings- Poly! Lost Boys x Female! Reader

Title- Blood Bag

It wasn’t often that you saw your boys fight, where their playful banter turned serious and fangs elongated and eyes turned that golden yellow that sent chills up your spine.

“You got to feed from her yesterday, man,” Paul growled from next to you, hand on your thigh as he argued with Marko, “I’m thirsty too.”

“We’re all thirsty, Paul,” David scowled from his wheelchair, hands gripping the armrests to physically restrain himself. “It’s not your turn.”

“(Y/n) isn’t an object,” Dwayne chimed in, despite being on edge and tensed he was the only one who was thinking rationally as he took in the smell of fear from you.

The more tense they got, the more on edge you got. Like a bunny cornered by a wolf, ready to dart out the next opening it could find.

“I never said she was,” Paul’s grip on your thigh tightened, making you wince.

What made these fights the worst was that they always centered around you. You wished that they would be able to push their hungers aside and talk rationally, however, as a human you thought best to not butt in to their arguments. Until now, as Paul’s grip became bordering painful as his elongated nails dug into the meat of your thigh.

Gripping his hand in your own, you paid Marko’s new argument no mind as you carefully pried Paul’s hand off of you, frowning at the indents in your skin.

“You boys do know I’m not the only human in Santa Carla, right?” You broke their argument, even though saying the words themselves made an anxious pit form in your gut.

You just wanted them to stop fighting, to satisfy their hunger and come back to you as the playful, soft- not that David would ever admit it-, kind people that they usually were around you.

They were hungry, needing blood to fill their appetite and some nights even draining an adult person wasn’t enough for their bellies. Sharing itty bitty ounces of your blood between them wasn’t going to cut it. Not in the long-term, anyway.

“Why don’t you just go drink from someone else? Or multiples,” You anxiously began to fiddle with Paul’s fingers as the cave grew eerily quiet.

You thought the fight had now been done and over, as they all stared at you wide-eyed. You interpreted it as a look of astonishment, a ‘how could we not have seen this before’ until Marko spoke up.

“(Y/n)...” He breathed out, almost like a whimper.

“Why would you suggest that?” David asked, his own expression going neutral again but as his eyes shifted from yellow back to the lovely icy blue tone you adore, you could see the sadness behind his gaze.

You shrugged, keeping your gaze down at your hand holding onto Paul’s, “I can’t meet your needs, not even close,” It hurt to say it, your heart stinging as you admitted out loud that you can’t provide for them in an equal manner in which they provide for you. They took you in when you had no one, provided you a safe haven of warmth and security.

“I know I can’t, and it would be easier for you all to find a donor or even to just find someone to drain like how you did before,” You kept your head low, avoiding their stares.

“Besides, like you’ve said before David, I’m just a blood-bag right?” You felt the back of your eyes sting, “You can just replace me, or add in someone else to this equation.”

David stood from the wheelchair, the definitive sound of his leather trench coat signaling that he was approaching you before his boots spilled into your line of sight.

“Look at me, little one,” He softly ordered, and of course no matter how upset you were, you followed it. Looking up to him, you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to look nonchalant.

“I thought we made this clear, you are the only one we will feed from.”

Feeding.

That word again.

A blood source from them, an easy way for them to fill their bellies before running whatever errands Max had for them.

Each time that word spilled from their lips, you wanted to yell out that you weren’t just food. You thought that there was something more between you all, the soft looks and gentle caresses.

Dwayne’s gentle hold on your body as he asked permission before piercing your flesh, Marko’s thumb rubbing on your exposed flesh before his nose ran along the vein, David’s hand cupping your cheek while he asked if you felt alright after, Paul pulling you against his chest so you can nap off the fatigue- acts oh so intimate.

But maybe…Maybe you were naive. Looking too far into those small acts.

“Yeah,” You looked from his gaze towards the fountain, frowning as the word ‘feed’ and all of its variations played in your head. “You like my blood, you’ve said it before.”

Marko approached now, sitting on the other side of you.

“No, (Y/n),” Marko made you look at him as his fingers tilted your chin towards him. “Not just because your blood is delicious, because you are you.” His words made your brow furrow

“The only girl we’d ever want,” Dwayne chimed in, still giving you space but the fond look in his eyes made heat rise to your cheeks.

“I don’t understand, I don’t get what this means,” You looked between all four of them, your brow still furrowed and your lips pulled into a pout.

Paul laughed, not mocking or harsh as he interlaced his hand with yours. “Boys, we haven’t been clear enough, she needs us to spell it out.”

“Spell what out–”

“You’re our mate,” David spoke, and when you looked to face him you expected a smirk on his face, his signature cockiness and arrogance on display as the leader of the group- but no, his expression was soft.

“I’m your what–”

“Our mate,” Dwayne piped up, now approaching. “Not our buffet, not our blood bag,” Dwayne’s eyes cut over to David who turned his face away with a huff. “The one we cherish with our heart and seek out above all else.”

“Your mate…” The words felt foreign on your lips, but they made your belly feel warm and full as Marko made a sound of agreement from beside you.

“We will work out the feeding issue,” David made a pointed look to Paul and before he could say another word, Marko beat him to the punch.

“But please don’t ever question your standing with us, and why we want you around.” Marko grabbed ahold of your unoccupied hand, lacing it with his own.

“Do you understand now, little one?”

“I think I do.”

“Good,” David leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head. “Now, we’ll be back,” David stood to his full height. Would their victims taste like garbage in comparison to your sweet crimson nectar? Absolutely. However, they needed to satiate their blood thirst, and you needed alone time to deal with this information.

“When will you be back?” You couldn’t help but ask, not used to being left behind.

“Soon, we’ll bring you back some (F/Food).”

And as they each gave you their own personal farewell, you couldn’t help but fidget in place.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Dwayne said, lifting up your hand to kiss at your knuckles.

“You promise?” Fear still lingering that this whole conversation was somehow one grand prank and they’d come back with another woman, declaring her as your replacement then laughing at you for believing them.  

Dwayne paused, looking into your eyes. “I promise, we will always come back to you.”

A soft smile blossomed on your face as he swore they would return, the sincerity in his eyes melting your concerns as you nodded and reached out to grab one of Paul’s cuddle blankets.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Your words had an underlying meaning as you snuggled into the surprisingly clean material, eager to discuss more about this mate situation when they came back.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, sweet cheeks.” Paul winked at you before Dwayne pushed him up the stairs.

- 

Tags- None currently

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐TRACK 02: ONOFFONOFF. eijirou kirishima (2K)

about. by day, kirishima fights crime to keep everyone he loves safe. by night, you’re fighting to keep your relationship alive, even while everything else is crumbling to pieces.

warnings. minors, ageless and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, angst, hurt-comfort, hopeful/open ending, toxic relationships, dry humping, civillain + fem!reader, pro hero!kirishima.

things to note. happy saturday homies, i hope you enjoy this second instalment !! i adore writing angst pieces so it was nice to go back to that, enjoy mwah ! <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

how could anyone ever hate eijirou kirishima. 

by day, he’s everybody’s favourite pro hero. though number five on the ranks, red riot has a comforting charm that dazzles the public. fear dissipates almost instantly whenever he was on the scene, as if there was never anything to be afraid of in the first place. he is calm while he works, caring. holding crying babies to his plush chest as he breaks through burning buildings, pulling dazed strangers out of the way of speeding cars, taking out criminals with brute force and bright banter. 

he’s wonderful with kids as well, which by extension, makes kirishima popular with the parents — often using their starry eyed little ones for a chance to get close to the bulky hero. of course, your boyfriend doesn’t realise. he doesn’t take note of the lingering touches during touching family photos with him, numbers slipped into his hero costume or how people lean against kirishima desperate for a messy signature to be scrawled across inappropriate parts of their bodies. 

eijirou is too nice to say no, to set boundaries. he’s warm and friendly — the perfect aura of sunshine. in some ways, you can understand the way the world almost revolves around him. why all the people and their planets make him the centre of the universe. after all, it’s part of the reason you ended up dating him. 

but the press adore him too, they really do. their beloved red riot is always willing to stop for interviews even when he’s busted and beaten, they love the way he leans down (all 6’5 of him) to hear the reporters better. they eat up the way he blushes and bumbles humbly whenever he’s asked about the status of his relationship. to which he answers “i wouldn’t say there’s anyone in particular that’s in the picture right now…” while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, accidentally showing off his bulging muscles and firm chest. 

how could you ever hate eijirou kirishima. 

by night, he’s supposed to be yours and only yours. but you can smell floral perfumes on his collarbones from fans that get too close and you can feel the distance grow between you like an invisible barrier.

you hate that kirishima lies about your relationship to the public just as a ‘precaution’ when it’s clearly a ploy from eijirou’s marketing team to keep him the lovable, single, himbo hero. you hate that it makes you want to push him away. 

it’s not just you and him in this partnership. it’s you, eijirou and the whole world that eagerly watches his every move — and it’s starting to make you feel like a third wheel, like less of a priority, like more of an accessory.

you don’t know when loving eijirou kirishima becomes difficult and starts to feel like a chore — in your mind, you’re under appreciated. he comes home from work, sleeps, and leaves before the sun rises without giving you an ounce of attention (aside from the money dropped into your bank account as an apology). the dates that you plan become less frequent too, or when they do happen, kirishima leaves halfway through with a lopsided sorrowful grin. 

“the world isn’t gonna save itself, yanno. someone’s got to be on the scene.”

you fill the void in your heart with your work, spending time with friends who don’t offer the same comfort as your long-term partner and lazing about the house. but being alone gives you the space to begin resenting kirishima, giving into the toxic comparisons of your relationship against that of others — todoroki and his girlfriend are getting married soon, why aren’t you and eiji?

it’s not like you haven’t brought this up before, over quiet dinners interjected with snide remarks — it only ever leads to screaming matches that end with your throat raw and kirishima slamming doors so loud that the house shakes. but brought back together by the toxic cycle of love, you end up back in his bed and he ends up back inside you — taking root in your ribcage right where your heart lies, the thorns on his roses piercing the beating muscle. 

you cough up perfumed petals like you would blood, kirishima leaving fatal wounds on the inside  of your chest cavity. 

it doesn’t stop the way you so brokenly make love, tearing one another apart and piecing you back together like patchwork. 

“careful.” your boyfriend mumbles through swollen lips as they press against your own. he lets your tongue slide into his hot mouth, your noses pressed up against each other — breath ragged. 

your hands reach for eijirou’s shirt to tear through it. each of your movements are calculated to replace what traces from others linger on him. you pull, bite and scratch at golden skin that is already littered with scars from his battles. those where he protected the country he loved, the people who loved him. “slowly…” kirishima ushers, you gently, tilting his head back when you tug on the black roots of his hair to gain access to his neck.

“d-darling, what’s the hurry?”

you love him so much that you think you might hate him even more. he’s so perfect, he doesn’t colour outside of the lines, he touches you like you’re a house made of cards even though his fingertips set your entire body on fire.

blood rushes through your ears, carrying a heat that blossoms in your lower tummy and intoxicates kirishima as you kiss him again — teeth sinking into his lower lip until it bleeds. 

“c-can we talk?” kirishima stutters out as your tongue glides under his earlobe next and your hips slot against his perfectly, grinding down into his hardening cock. “w-what’s going on? fuck,” he curses, hips bucking up instinctively. “what’s going on with you?” 

“nothing.” stop talking.

“darlin’, you’re being a little rough…” shut up.

“you usually like that.” you utter breathlessly, switching sides to leave marks on the unmarred portions of his neck. 

this time, however, the red head grips your hips a little tighter — halting your movements and pushing you back so he can get a better look at your face. “baby, let’s just—“ 

“what, kirishima?” finally, you snap — glaring at him long and hard. “what could you possibly have to say now? that you can’t fuck me tonight because you’re too busy working? cause you’re busy thinking of bending over that pretty, ditzy little reporter from work today ‘cause she’s a little more tolerable than me? what is it eijirou?” you punctuate each of his words with a jab to his muscular shoulder, though the man is sturdy enough not to feel it. 

you’ve had this fight before, dozens of times and on more occasions than you can count on both hands. eijirou either tunes out to play innocent or he snaps  back with all teeth bared and fangs on display.

“you’re being unfair.” is all he says, tone dull and lifeless just like it’s been before. it’s like he’s given up on the two of you, not that you’d blame him. there’s no more fight left in the two of you for your love, only fuelled by the anger and resentment  you feel towards  each other. 

“what next? bet you’ll think i’m being unreasonable.” 

“you are being unreasonable.”

“oh i’m sorry, is that a problem for you? am i inconveniencing you, riot?” 

“come on, what’s with the attitude?” 

“excuse me?” 

kirishima exhales shakily, letting go of your hips to pinch the bridge of his nose. his ruby eyes shoot everywhere but you, he can’t even stand to look at you when arguments like this come up. those eyes of his, they carry too much shake and guilt.  “you always get like this. when i come home and i just want to be close to you and you get all…aggressive.” he spits out harshly, like the words are poison on his tongue, like he can’t stand to see what your love has soured into. “angry like you want to hurt me when i’m trying to love you.”

you scoff, rolling your own jewelled eyes. “love me? don’t make me laugh, eijirou. you don’t know the first thing about loving anyone except for you and your job.” 

“will you at least fucking explain what i did tonight, ‘cause i’d love to know what’s got you so bitter, sweetheart?” hurt echoes in his timbre voice. you wish that you could tell him, but you flounder for words and react with rage instead — how can you tell the man you wanted forever with that you hate the hero he’s become? 

“fuck you, red!” you stand, retaliating instead of communicating your needs properly. “fuck you, mister red ‘righteous’ riot, mister eijirou ‘incapable of doing wrong’ kirishima.” 

kirishima’s face crumples but he follows suit, standing, but he doesn’t make a move to come closer. “what’s your fucking problem? what did i do?” 

“the blame is never on you, is it?” 

“well i’d like to know why it should be! if you’d just—“

“it’s like you have no sense of accountability—“

“i’m trying—“ 

“—like honestly, fuck you, eijirou.” 

“you’re not letting me talk!” the redhead damn near screams, the base in his voice shaking your house, bouncing off the walls. he sounds drained, pained and no amount of medication can fix it. you’ve blackened his heart with scorch marks and danced amongst the flames and now you’re finally seeing that it’s not just you who this relationship is crushing. 

each word you spit kirishima cuts him into the shape you want him to be, wounding him deeper than any battle scar. 

“and you’re not letting me fucking breathe!” you shout back rather than listening to logic. it’s a low blow, you’re highly aware — a reference back to the early days of your relationship when kirishima overcompensated his absence for affection. he thought you’d worked through it. you liked to throw it back in his face when you were mad. you’re stubborn, you always have been, but for some reason you want to hit kirishima where it hurts. you want to cut him up into the perfect shape, until he feels exactly how you feel. 

when he finally makes a move, you become aware of his sheer size for the first time that night. eijirou would never hurt you, he couldn’t harm a fly even if he wanted to but that doesn’t mean you’re not scared of his presence. kirishima touches every corner of the room, his anger flooding through it and pushing you under so that you’re drowning in your own mistakes and his too. 

“you’re suffocating me too,” he mumbles, voice just above a whisper and you relax into his arms. “i’m trying so hard to be the man that you want me to be. you take so much, you want even more. you want a house and you want kids and i want to give you that too but you make it so hard. when you hurt me like this.” he’s being honest, the truth scratching at his throat as the pro-hero vocalises what you’ve failed to communicate for months. you’ve been selfish and he’s been avoidant, the pair of you only hurting one another, carving cuts so deep the wounds won’t heal and the blood won’t stop pouring unless either of you do something. and fast. 

“where do we go from here?” you don’t even realise that you’re crying until your boyfriend swipes the pad of his thumb underneath your eyes, leaving no time for the salty droplet to hit your skin. 

your teary gaze is tied to his as kirishima’s ruby eyes glisten under the moonlight. “i don’t know.” he hesitates. “i don’t want you to leave me. you need me.”

you whimper and curl up against his chest. “i don’t want that either.” 

kirishima wraps his arms around you like a safety blanket, shielding you from the ugly truth of your own relationship. it’s always on and off with the two of you, but this time you’re determined to make it work — you hope that he is too. 

“we have to work on this, on us.” he says firmly, but he squeezes you close as if you might disappear — holds you as if you’re a flower that might wilt if it’s touched. “none of this on and off, we…we gotta talk to each other from now on. yeah?” 

“yeah,” for the first time in months, you sink into kirishima’s touch — accept his rough edges and hardened shell, and turn your pain into a promise. “we will.” 

a promise to keep dancing together like it’s the first time even when the world around yourself and eijirou kirishima is burning.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter one

can I call you tonight? dayglow

❝There's so much time

For me to speak up, but I keep quiet

I'll complicate most of the mantra❞

next

"This is the coffee shop that I was telling you about," Kuroo gestured towards a small building that seemed to have a theme of dark academia and books.

The cafe didn't seem all that bad, you thought. It would be the perfect place to study before a huge exam, the tall windows which showed the beautiful inside were not forgettable. 

"It looks so pretty. Do you come here often after class?" You questioned as the little bell rang when Kuroo held open the door for you. A wondrous smell of coffee, books, and spice wafted into your nose. It could have been a bit overwhelming if you hadn't loved the scent.

It almost brings you to your favorite season of them all, which is definitely autumn. 

"No, only once in a while. This place is kind of pricey, but it gives good beverages and great seats." Kuroo chuckled, looking down at you as you scoured the menu. There were definitely a lot of choices to choose from and yet you still didn’t know what to pick. 

"See anything you like?" He asked as you guys stood off to the side – by the entry way that had a lot of books nearby.

"Hm, I think I would like to try the toffee crunch espresso? It seems good." You pondered on that, not really liking coffee but love to try different kinds once in a while.

"Sounds great. You go pick a seat for us and I'll get our orders." He patted your head and slightly pushed your forward a bit in case you decided to protest on the matter.

You rolled your eyes a bit at that but looked across the cafe to see where you wanted to sit. Eventually you decided on the floral printed sofa that had an antique wooden table to set the drinks on. This place was definitely one for the books.

Kuroo soon came back with the drinks and taking that first sip was always magical – until it gave you the shits later.

"Thank you for this. You didn't have to buy it for me, you know." You made a point at that, even though he knew that too. Your parents still give you an allowance, especially now more than ever too. They don't want you working your ass off in college at a dead-end job when you could be focusing on studies.

"I know, little one. But you're my favorite non-biological sister, so why wouldn't I?" He remarked, sipping his drink as the warmth fogged up his reading glasses that he only wears occasionally.

Your heart strings tugged at the nickname Kuroo used for you.

He had given you that name when you were very young and needed help on something so small at the time that your parents thought it was huge – your writing skills. 

"So, you have other not favorite non-biological sisters?" You snorted, as that sounded weird coming from your mouth.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved you off, rolling his eyes at your dumb question. 

"Okay, so, when can I move in? I was kind of wondering why we aren't there now and instead at a coffee shop." You raised an eyebrow at that. It was kind of weird Kuroo wasn't showing you where you were going to live for the next four years. 

"Well, there is something I was supposed to tell you about, but in all honesty, I kind of forgot."

You urged him to go on.

"So, I have a roommate too. His name is Kenma and he's super chill and goes to uni with me and I've known him since we were young." He spit out all at once, leaving you stunned.

"A roommate? How old is he? I mean, I haven't met him. What if he kills me in my sleep, Tetsu?" You can't possibly move in with Kuroo and his roommate that you don't even know! That's just crazy work, he was trying to get you killed.

"I promise Kenma is a good guy. He likes video games and cats. He used to play volleyball with me in high school. Like I've known him forever, there won't be anything to worry about!" He tried to reassure you. Tetsuro had promised your parents that he'd take extra special care of you once you got accepted into his university.

And right now, he hoped that you would look past not knowing Kenma very well and agree. It never really came up in the past letters about Kuroo’s social life – probably because of the age difference. Not only that but your parents had monitored all of your letter conversations till they got you a phone. 

"I mean... I guess it's fine," You trailed off a bit, wanting more time to think on it but then again, he's right in front of you. And Kuroo would never purposefully put you in danger, he's not like that. You’ve known him since you were in primary too. 

Kuroo blew a sigh of relief, "Great! I swear it will all be fine. Want to go look around a bit? I can show you some good places around this town, so you'll be more familiar with it once you move."

You sipped your coffee, now bitter in your mouth – from how long it sat there untouched or from the conversation? You don't know.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I don't want to not know where a gas station is and have to pull over on the side of the road and a stranger kidnap and kill me." You got up from the cushioned couch to stretch a bit before leaving.

"Did someone make you watch a scary movie lately? You sure are being a bit weird, little one." He chuckled as if it was funny. You're deathly scared of gory, horror movies.

"As if, this is just my regular morbid self." You laughed, exiting the cafe and taking in the scenery of the streets. It wasn't a bad town at all. It looked kind of magical like it came out of a movie or something.

After a bit of sight-seeing, you gathered that there were a lot of thrifting shops, coffee places, a public library and even different kinds of food areas that you'd definitely be trying out once you move.

Your feet started to hurt but you wouldn't tell Kuroo that, he'd make fun of you for being such a big baby.

So, you decided on, "Tell me more about Kenma? I'm still a bit nervous of actually moving in with a stranger I've only heard stories of." 

"I'm not sure what to say. He's a year younger than me, Christmas is his favorite holiday, and he's started a small YouTube channel a bit ago."

He saw the look on your face and then added, "He knows you're moving in; it'll all be okay. Save the worries for your new classes, okay?" He ruffled your head, effectively messing up your hair that you worked hard on this morning.

"Agh, stop," You pulled his hand away, "You're annoying." You scoffed at him as you guys arrived at your small car.

This beauty has gotten you through senior year and you're just praying she'll get you through this year of college. It was a red VW convertible that your parents graciously gave you on your 18th birthday.

You had decked her out with plenty of red accessories and most of which were strawberry or hello kitty themed. What can you say? You're just a girl after all.

"Thanks for the day Tetsu, it was really nice. I'm feeling a bit better about moving here." You give him a genuine smile as you unlock your car door.

"Anytime for you, little one." He reached over to give you a squeezing hug and then released you.

"I'll see you soon then, bye!" You waved once you were buckled in your cute little car. Kuroo gave you a huge wave and a smile goodbye.

As you were driving back home, you couldn't help but to roll your windows down and let the air flow through your hair. At a red light, you connected your phone to the car and started playing your favorite song.

A man crossed the road, you couldn't help but to stare at his outfit. Who in the hell wears a hoodie and sweatpants in the summer? Granted, it was the end of summer, so the heat was slowly fleeting but just barely.

As if he heard you, his head snapped up, locking eyes with yours. His strange golden ones felt like they could have pierced your soul with how hard the expression on his face was. Even with the windows down, in the summer heat, you managed to shiver just from him.

As you drove by, you couldn't get the image out of your mind nor the feeling off your skin. You hoped it maybe was the music that had perhaps made that man stare you down in the middle of the crosswalk.

You turned the music up a little louder, hoping to drown the thoughts out and letting the wind send a different type of chills down your back.

. . .

On the long drive home, you couldn't help your mind from wandering to when you had your first encounter with Kuroo. You had maybe been no older than nine or ten. You remember your parents sitting you down at the kitchen table with serious looks on their faces that had you worried.

They had told you that they had been concerned about the way you had been writing your past few school assignments. However, those couldn't have been not much longer than a paragraph or two, so you didn't really understand.

Anyways, that's when they signed up for a program to help you connect with another grade schooler to improve your writing skills. You had been excited to use the many pretty stationary that your parents had gifted you to get you into writing.

You soon had met a junior high version of Kuroo -- through pen pal letters of course. He had introduced himself and mostly asked about you and gave you tips to correct your writing. And then, well, the rest is history.

Not to mention that you definitely kept all of the letters that Kuroo had sent to you as memories.

As the years blended away, you finally got your first phone when you reached your last year in junior high! That was Kuroo's third year too and after the long wait of your letter sending through the mail with the excitement of your new phone, you finally got a message back.

That is when you both decided to meet up in person, conventionally it was right after Kuroo had a match and won it that same day. It's safe to say that he was exceptionally happy to win a match with his team and meet his pen pal sister.

You still remember cringing away from him trying to give you a hug because you both just now met up in person, but he did just win a match. Over the course of your high school years, he would occasionally come back on breaks from university and take you out for ice cream or help with your science homework.

Kuroo was like the big brother you never got, and you were like the little sister he always wished for. It was the perfect duo.

You wish you could have recorded his face once you facetimed him about being accepted into his college. That was the day that he had sworn to your parents that he'd take excellent care of you if you decided to go there with him.

Safe to say, your parents loved and trusted Kuroo.

You couldn't help but to smile at all the delightful memories that ran through your head. 'It'll be weird for a bit, but I'll have my bro Kuroo, so it'll be fine' you thought to yourself, pulling into the driveway of your house.

Maybe it all would be okay.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire smau came from @deftrow !! i made the banner <3

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 9 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer embark on a night on the town and things grow awkward fast when you met a handsome stranger. Spencer’s jealousy leaves him determined to show what he’s capable of. But even that doesn’t go quite to plan.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, smoking, making out, swearing, jealous Spencer, tears, mild argument, erectile issues, fingering, titty sucking, coming untouched, coming in pants, vomit, build up to dissociation.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Spencer sat on the porch as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, jabbing his finger at the screen of his new phone. It had no buttons, just a large touchscreen. It unlocked by reading his face and didn’t have the same kind of tactile quality he was used to in a phone. 

Unfortunately, they simply didn’t make devices like his old one and he’d had to settle for this iPhone, for which he had no idea how to use. 

You’d somehow managed to sort it so it could keep the same number and magically transferred all of his existing contacts onto it. It all went over Spencer’s head and he stopped questioning it. 

Now he was attempting to send Garcia a text message after receiving one from her, positively disbelieving he had spoken to both Luke and Morgan but wouldn’t answer her calls. 

It took him nearly twenty minutes to write a reply, his fingers not dexterous enough to figure out the touch screen keyboard. As he finally corrected all of the spelling mistakes and hit send, he heard the door to your lodge open. 

He was hesitant to go along with you to the 11th Street Bar for multiple reasons. For starters, bars were not fun when sober, not that he’d ever particularly enjoyed them when he did drink either. Then there was the fact that in two years he’d never interacted with these people and according to you they already thought him rude. He didn’t like socialising, why could no one understand that? 

He pushed himself up from the chair, his knee aching slightly but the pain was lessening. You locked the door to the lodge before gliding down the stairs and down the path until you were closing in on him.

It was only when you were in front of him that he could fully appreciate you and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he took you in. You wore a floral, off the shoulder dress which stopped at your knees and showed more skin than he ever dreamed of seeing. Pairing it with your red riding boots and you looked almost like a local, the epitome of a cowgirl.

You also looked absolutely ravishing. Spencer’s raging heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest to show you exactly how divine he thought you looked. But his slack jaw and wide eyes said enough and you blanched a little, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” You scuffed your boot in the dirt. “Never seen a genu-wine cowgirl before?” You impersonated a southern drawl. 

“I…I, uh…” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, you just…you look…jeez Y/N.” 

You giggled at his inability to form a coherent sentence. You had rendered him speechless. 

“Well you know, I want to fit in around these parts.” You swung your hips side to side, the dress billowing around you as you did so. “Don’t look so bad yourself, stud.” 

Spencer felt his cheeks flush red, the heat quickly spreading down his neck. He still wore his black jeans, the ones he’d noticed you checking him out in yesterday. He also dusted off an old button down from back in his BAU days, in a dark purple colour. 

He tucked it into his jeans and left the top few buttons undone. He spent a long time taming his hair and forewent a stetson once he was happy with how it looked. 

“Uh, thanks.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“Gonna make being friends with you real hard if you keep looking at me like that.” You smirked at him, still impersonating that thick Texas twang. 

“Just get in the car, okay?” He shook his head, trying to ignore the way your outfit made him quiver. 

You hid your amusement by turning towards the car, Spencer following behind. You paused at the driver’s door.

“Just gotta grab something from the trunk, jump in.” You called over the hood and Spencer nodded before cautiously sliding into the passenger’s seat. 

Once he closed his door you sidled around to the trunk and opened it. You glanced up through the car to make sure he wasn’t looking before you lifted the trunk lining.

Hidden away in the empty shell that had once held a spare tyre was a black duffle bag. You quickly unzipped, revealing the wads and wads of bills concealed inside. You grabbed a couple of twenties and folded them, stuffed them in the side of your left boot before zipping the bag and secreting it back away under the trunk lining. 

Soon you were hurrying around to the driver’s seat like nothing had happened. 

***

The discomfort distended to every single one of his nerve endings the moment the two of you stepped inside the 11th Street Bar. The place was packed and all eyes were instantly on you. 

As you sauntered inside you were met by wolf whistles and catcalls and it made Spencer feel incredibly protective of you even though it wasn’t his place. 

He watched their hungry gazes linger on your bare legs and bare shoulders and move onto your clothed breasts and backside. 

It made a pit form in his chest, more so when you sent smiles and winks across the room in various directions. 

He wanted to blanket you, both physically and metaphorically. He wanted those animals to stop staring at you this way. He wanted you to stop enjoying the attention so much. 

He followed you like a stray dog towards the bar, where you leaned on the counter, no doubt giving the balding bartender an eyeful of your cleavage.

“Well looky here, if it ain’t Miss Lizzie come back to join us.” The old man hissed as he spoke. “Lookin’ mighty fine tonight if I do say so too.” 

“What, this old thing?” You glanced down at your dress before waving a dismissive hand at him. 

Spencer felt more out of place than he ever had done in his life. This was quite honestly the last place he ever wanted to be. 

Sensing the presence hovering behind you, the bartenders gaze lifted over your head to where Spencer awkwardly stood.

“And if it isn’t Cosmo, gracing us with his presence.” The older man scoffed. “Nice of you to finally show your face round here.”

Spencer swallowed, chewing on his lip. 

“His names, Spencer and be nice.” You clucked. “Spencer, this is Cole.” 

“What can I get ya missy?” Cole ignored the introduction and looked back at you. “No more of my home brew I hope.” 

“Definitely not.” You shook your head. “I will take a shot of tequila and a beer though.” 

“What’ll you have, Cosmo?” His eyes shot back up to Spencer. 

“Uh, a ginger ale?” He posed it as a question. 

Cole pulled a face of disdain and shook his head. 

“Ain’t ever met a sober cowboy in all my life.” Cole muttered, turning away to get your drinks. 

You felt Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. 

“I hate it here.” He whined. “Can’t we just go home and you can drink that bottle of scotch?” 

“I want to stay. I like it here. You can go if you want.” You shrugged, turning back to face the bar. 

Turning your back on him. You were turning your back on him.

“You think I’m going to leave you here with all these creeps staring at you?” He moved closer to you, his chest pressed into your back and he spoke against the shell of your ear. “There is not a man in this bar who doesn’t want to sleep with you.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, not turning back to him. “Might just be some guys lucky night then.” 

Spencer felt the pit in his stomach grow larger, his heart practically falling into the open chasm. He put his hand on your shoulder again, skin against skin, and spun you slightly roughly back to look at him.

“Don’t make jokes like that.” He growled. 

“Who’s joking?” You shook him off with a frown of impatience. “Just because you don’t want to bed me, doesn’t mean someone else can’t, Cosmo.” 

Spencer’s mouth fell open, somewhat hurt at your crude summation of your fleeting relationship. Is that really what you thought? Did you really believe he didn’t want to? If only it were that simple.

He wished he didn’t want you so much. It would be far easier for him to not want you with a white hot desire. It had nothing to do with not wanting you, he just couldn’t have you. Not in that way. 

When he couldn’t form any words of response, you spoke again, folding your arms over your chest.

“We’re just friends, Spencer. You made that perfectly clear. So as far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever the hell I want. You wanna hang around? Fine. You wanna go home? Also fine. But I’m staying.” You spat, once again turning your back on him as Cole brought your drinks back over. 

You were quick to down the tequila before thanking him with a flirtatious smile and paying him with a bill from inside your boot. You practically shoved Spencer’s ginger ale into his hand before brushing past him with your beer. 

Cole was looking at him, an odd expression on his features. Spencer felt uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“Girl’s a heartbreaker.” Cole shrugged after a while. “Knew it the minute I laid eyes on ‘er. Careful how you tread there.” 

With those sage words, Cole was walking away to serve his next customer, leaving Spencer reeling. 

***

Two hours later Spencer had procured a table for himself but you wouldn’t stay still long enough to join him. The more tequila you drank, the more energy you seemed to have and you appeared to talk to everyone in the bar but him. 

He was still nursing the same ginger ale, feeling much like a spare part. He deliberately missed two calls from Luke, staring at the device as it rang in his hand. He’d hoped after they spoke yesterday Luke would stop with the incessant phone calls. Spencer had half a mind to block his number. He didn’t want it to come to that, but something had to give. 

He ignored his phone after a while and watched the way you worked the room. The whole bar was eating out of the palm of your hand, hanging off you every word. You were undeniably in your element. 

And it only went to further Spencer’s belief that the two of you were from completely different worlds. 

***

You lit a cigarette and meandered out the back of the bar for some fresh air, which you didn’t miss the irony of. The large rear garden of the 11th Street establishment was about five times the size of the inside, with a stage at one end and even an outside bar. 

You leaned up against the nearest wall, the tequila pulsing through your veins and offering you that blissful tipsy sensation. You sucked on the cigarette and observed the goings on around you. 

You’d managed to hide yourself in plain sight. No one would ever think to look for you in this little backwoods town. You’d taken all the necessary precautions, didn’t leave a paper trail. 

The car parked outside was the fourth you’d stolen on your journey. Take one, drive it for a distance, abandon it and then find another far enough away from the first they wouldn’t be tied together. 

You’d picked up this car just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. You’d broken into a junkyard for this particular vehicle as it was likely they may never notice it was missing. You changed the plates just in case. 

The money in the trunk had been procured from your mother’s safe which not even her scumbag second husband knew about. She’d kept the nest egg of cash ever since you were a little girl and only you knew the combination.

“It’s for a rainy day, Y/N. One day I won’t be around anymore and I want to make sure you have everything you could ever need.” 

It was as though she’d envisioned something bad happening to her. When she married the second time, he’d convinced her to put all of her savings into a bank account under his name effectively meaning you’d never see a dime. 

But he didn’t know about the safe. 

You’d taken a bunch of your late mother’s clothes too, brought a few more items with the cash, including the dress you wore now. Only ever cash, couldn’t leave a trail. 

Bandera might not have been your first choice of hideout but you couldn’t deny it had its perks, and you were certain no one would ever find you here. 

And if they did, you would simply run again. 

You took another drag on the cigarette as a tall, dark and handsome stranger headed your way. Although on closer inspection he wasn’t entirely a stranger to you. 

The man wore all blue denim, a large eagle on his belt buckle, bolo tie and black stetson. He was smiling at you as he approached. 

“Hey there little lady,” he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You work at Busbees? I think I saw you there yesterday.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, you’re the big tipper.” He chuckled. “I never forget a big tipper. Or a pretty face.” 

“Elizabeth.” You held out your hand.

“Charmed,” he took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Grant.” 

Without warning he plucked your cigarette from your fingers and took a long drag on it. He sucked in the smoke and spoke again as he exhaled it.

“Things’ll kill ya.” He chuckled. 

“Live fast, die young.” You shrugged. 

“Leave a good lookin’ corpse?” He laughed too, a deep, vibrating sound.

“Certainly appealing.” You agreed.

He took another drag on the cigarette before placing it back between your lips. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip as he did so. It lingered there for a moment or two, while you took your own drag.

Removing it from your mouth, you held it between your fingers as you blew smoke over his head. You leaned further back against the wall, puffing your chest out. He took a step closer to you and you didn’t mind at all. 

You caught the scent of a musky cologne as he drew closer. 

“I don’t mean to forward ma’am but you are hotter than a firecracker that’s been lit at both ends.” His lip quipped into a smirk. 

You shuddered, the hunger in his eyes causing your legs to shake. You inhaled sharply as his hand came to rest on your cheek. 

“Imma kiss you now, if that’s okay with you, little lady?” 

You whimpered but couldn’t speak, so instead you nodded. Grant chuckled as he leaned in closer. His lips soon crashed against yours, his whole body pinning you to the wall. 

You dropped the forgotten cigarette on the floor and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you fiercely, deeply. Your legs trembled at the sensation. 

His hand that wasn’t on your face ran up your thigh and you moaned into his lips. And Spencer Reid was the furthest thing from your mind. 

***

Spencer finally decided he’d had enough when two old twins who called themselves Boone and Butch invited themselves to sit with him. They proceeded to mock him on everything from his clothes, his hair, his accent, even his ‘city boy good looks’. He’d eventually excused himself to go in search of you. 

The bar was small and it only took a few minutes to ascertain you weren’t inside. He pushed his way out the back door and breathed in the fresh air. It took only moments to find you, pressed up against a wall by another body who was kissing you with force.

One hand was on your thigh, beneath your dress and Spencer swore his blood froze in his veins. His brain must have short circuited because normally he wouldn’t have been so bold as to square up to a man of his size, but he found himself marching over and grabbing the large shoulder of the man kissing you and tugging him backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer raised his voice, glaring at you and your kiss swollen lips. 

You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, chest heaving. 

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” You spat. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Spencer?” The man spoke up, looking between you and him in heavy confusion. 

Spencer tensed, slowly turning back to face the man whose lips were equally as puffy as yours. He hadn’t recognised him by the back of his head and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“G-Grant?” Spencer croaked.

“You know each other?” You took a step away from the wall. “I didn’t think you had any friends around here?” 

“We’re not friends.” Grant spat, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest. “How do you know each other?”

“I asked first.” You cocked your head to the side. 

Spencer was unable to speak, paralysed by the unfortunate situation he had found himself in.

“He asked me on a date and stood me up.” Grant hissed. 

“Oh…oh.” You looked between both men. “Well this is sufficiently awkward. Looks like we have the same taste in men, Spence.” 

Spencer reddened, averting his gaze to the floor and wanting to crawl into a dark crevice somewhere and never come out. 

“Are you two…?” Grant frowned at the two of you. 

“Friends.” You finished for him. “Isn’t that right, Spencer. We’re just friends. Which is why you had no right to march over here and tear us apart.” 

“I really don’t want to be a part of this conversation.” Spencer mumbled to the floor.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you interfered. Why, Spencer? Why did you interrupt us?” You took a step closer to him. 

“Please,” he looked back at you, eyes full of torment. “Please can we not do this here.” 

“I ain’t looking to step on any toes, I didn’t realise y’all were-”

“Friends.” You barked, cutting Grant off. “We’re fucking friends.” 

Without warning you shoved Spencer backwards by his shoulders, the sudden touch causing him to flinch. But you didn’t notice it because you were already storming away. Spencer huffed out a breath and dared to glance at Grant who was looking at him in something close to pity. 

“If I were you,” Grant clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, again causing him to recoil. “I’d go after her.”

“Duly noted.” Spencer groaned. “But can I just say…” he trailed off for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I should have apologised. I really am sorry for standing you up. I got here and I just couldn’t make it inside. I wanted to, I really did. But, uh, I’m honestly terrible at dating and I freaked myself out. I should have apologised, I wish I had. And I’m sorry.” 

Grant inhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not expecting that from him. He let his arms fall to his sides and offered Spencer a melancholy smile.

“You hush your mouth, it's water under the bridge.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Listen ‘ere Spencer. There ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, you get me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Spencer shook his head.

Grant chortled deeply, slapping his palm on his knee while Spencer simply stared at him, brows pinched. 

“Layman's terms: there’s somebody out there for everyone. Don’t you go thinking there ain’t. Whatever it is you been through, ‘cos you have been through somethin’, don’t write yourself off. Go after your lady.” He patted Spencer’s shoulder again and Spencer winced. 

He wanted to argue with Grant but it was completely pointless. Instead he forced a smile and nodded before turning on his heels. 

He made it back out the front of the bar without incident and found you kicking around the dirt with the toe of your boot. 

“You don’t get to do this.” You spat, arms wrapped around your body like a shield. “If you want me you can have me. If you don’t let me go.” 

Spencer shuffled down the front steps, ambling towards you. 

“I really wish it were that simple.” He reached you and cupped your jaw in his good hand, leaning in and resting his forehead against yours. “I want you but I can’t give you everything, there’s a huge part of me I just can’t give you. And you deserve the whole world, Y/N. I want you to have it all. But selfishly I don’t want you to have that with another man.” 

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I do or do not deserve? Spencer, I didn’t want to kiss that guy. I did it because I wanted a rise out of you. I want you to want me.” You felt tears spring to your eyes. 

“Let me be clear here,” he moved his hand to your cheek. “I have wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This has nothing to do with that.”

“I’ve never felt like this about someone before.” You confessed. “And I barely know anything about you. I don’t care if you can’t tell me your life story, I don’t even care if you don’t want to have sex with me! I just want…I want someone to care.” 

A few tears escaped your eyes and Spencer brushed them away with his thumb. His breath was hot on your face and his forehead was a little sweaty against yours. 

“I do care,” he admitted. “Too much considering I barely know you either. I don’t want you making out with other guys. But it’s unfair of me to ask that of you.” 

“Spencer?” You whispered. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He replied in equally hushed tones. 

“Do you have any kind of proclivity towards me making out with you?” 

He hissed, his body quaking at the mere thought. 

“Right now?” He breathed. “I have an extreme proclivity towards it.” 

And then his lips were on yours, chapped and rough just as you remembered. His tongue was quickly plunging into your mouth and he held you so close as though afraid you would disappear. 

It grew exceptionally heated in a matter of seconds and you wanted to tear all of his clothes off right there in the middle of the street. He guided you back towards your car without breaking the kiss and soon you felt your back pressing against the side of the vehicle. 

When he did end the kiss, his pupils were blown out wide with lust. 

Not another word was shared between you. You handed him the keys silently and you both climbed into the car. In the passenger’s seat you had to clamp your thighs together as a heat spread through you. 

You hoped that by the time you made it back to the ranch he hadn’t let himself overthink this.

***

He tensed up when he invited you into his lodge, hands shaking as he opened the door and closed it behind him. His nerves were written all over his face. 

He slowly moved closer to you, once again cupping your cheek in his hand in such a delicate manner. 

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispered as his lips ghosted over your own. “The way you made me feel the other night.”

You whimpered at the thought, desperate for any kind of pleasure he wanted to bestow upon you. 

“P-please?” You whined as his hand slipped into your hair. 

“I just, uh…you don’t need…I don’t need you to, uh, return the favour? So don’t…” he trailed off, frowning at himself. 

Don’t touch me, you heard the underlying words.

“Okay.” You nodded. “If that’s what you want.” 

“Thank you. I think I just need to…test my boundaries if that makes sense?” He whispered before pressing his lips against you again. 

“Hmm,” you mumbled into his lips. “Boundaries. Sure.” 

He led you towards his bedroom blindly, holding out his casted arm so as not to bump into anything. He kicked the door closed behind him before toeing off his boots. You did the same. 

He tore his lips away from yours and ran his fingers down the fabric of your dress before stopping at the hem. You nodded, giving him the green light to proceed.

You had to help him remove the garment as he only had the use of one hand. Together you got it over your head before tossing it on the floor. 

He made a whining sound between parted lips when he cast his eyes upon your body, clad only in a pair of lace panties. 

His jaw clenched and you noticed it. You smiled at him, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. You kissed him again and moved your hands to the buttons of his shirt but stopped before you could undo any of them. 

You weren’t sure if he meant he didn’t want you touching him at all and you didn’t want to risk this ending before it could begin so you moved your hands away. 

Spencer led you backwards again and then laid you gently on the bed. He stood over you for a moment, eyes wandering almost lazily up and down your torso. 

Swallowing a lump in his throat to stave off any fears, he started on his own buttons, again not the easiest feat with only one hand. Once undone he dropped the shirt to the floor leaving him in a t-shirt, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to remove that. 

The bandage still remained snug against his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his tee. His purple cast started at the crook of his arm, only allowing a sliver of left limb to be revealed to you. 

He did however pop the button on his jeans and shimmy them down his legs. You noticed a matching bandage on his thigh, you could only hazard a guess it was shielding wounds that were created by his own hand. 

You tried not to look too long and let your gaze flick to his tight fitting underwear. There was a slight tenting within, but it was apparent he hadn’t reached full tumescence, maybe not even half. 

His cheeks reddened as he noticed your slightly sad gaze on his crotch and he quickly climbed on top of you and stroked your cheek.

“It’s not you.” He insisted, kissing you again. “I swear to you, it isn’t you. It doesn’t always…do as it should.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you said nothing, opting to kiss him deeper instead. 

He was trying to view it like an experiment without sounding too clinical. He wanted to gauge his boundaries, figure out how far he could push himself without crumbling. And with any luck over time those frontiers might expand to cover more ground. 

His hand wandered your body in a vain attempt to recreate the pleasure you’d given him. His fingers brushed across your collarbones a few times before dipping between your breasts, across your sternum. 

He palmed the swell of your left breast, fingers swiping out to ghost over your hardened peek. You moaned into his lips, bucking your hips against him at the sensation. 

He did it again and elicited much the same reaction before doing the same to your other breast. You hummed into his mouth, writhing beneath him. 

His own hips rutted against your leg and he was certainly getting harder. He didn’t let himself focus on his own arousal though, this was all about you.

And who knows, if he managed to take this step he may be able to take others too. 

His fingers wisped down your torso, hand splaying out across the planes of your stomach. It travelled left towards your hip and his soft touch caused goosebumps to erupt beneath your flesh. 

The fingers brushed over the waistband of your panties, down towards your thigh. He could feel the heat emanating from between your legs and he had to pull back from your lips to let a feral moan escape him. 

He let his fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and you wriggled under him. 

“More.” You whined, the same way he had done to you. 

He kissed you again as he toyed with them, teasing you in a way that he could tell was driving you wild. 

He let his fingers dance between your legs, feeling the soaked material and moaning again. He couldn’t resist any longer, he was desperate to feel you. He also worried if he took too long he might change his mind entirely. 

He pushed the fabric aside and dared let his nimble fingers glide between your folds. He bucked against your leg and moaned into your mouth. He was fully erect now, you could feel it as he grinded against you. 

His lips had slipped from yours in lieu of sucking on your neck, teeth nibbling against your skin. The friction caused by his stubble tingled and stung in the most intoxicating way. 

His fingers brushed back and forth between your legs as though he wanted to collect every tiny drop of your arousal. 

You were whimpering, begging him for more without saying the word. And he must have read your mind because suddenly, with no warning, he plunged two fingers inside of you. 

You mewled at the welcome intrusion, back arching off of the bed and you swore you felt him smirk against your neck. 

His long, nimble digits thrust as deep as he could, until he was completely buried inside of you. He hissed against your neck, unable to remember the last time he’d been inside a woman like this. 

You clenched around his fingers, walls fluttering, tight and pulsing. It was such an unfamiliar yet conversant sensation. It caused a pinching in his stomach, a tightening in his chest. 

He remained still for several moments, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, adjusting the overwhelming feeling that flooded his entire body. 

It was new yet well remembered; he was both a novice and well versed in his craft. 

You wriggled beneath him as he was still for so long you worried he was going to freak himself out. He raised his head from your neck so he could look at you. 

His eyes were brimming with emotions, lips curled into the softest smile. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just a little overwhelmed by how amazing you feel.” 

You cupped his chin and brought him closer, placing a chaste kiss to his lips and mumbling, “more, please?” 

Spencer sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you, driving impossibly deeper inside of you and brushing against your cervix. 

A wanton moaned travelled from your mouth to Spencer’s and your thighs clamped around his hand. 

He withdrew his digits enough so he could plunge back inside of you, gently at first but after a few thrusts he got a little rougher. But judging by the sounds you were making, he was doing something very right. 

He continued with this rhythm, curling his fingers each time he pushed back inside of you, and each time he brushed against you, you shuddered beneath him. 

He started scissoring his fingers, pushing his fingers against your walls and finding it dizzying how your body bent to his will. He was continuously rutting against you, the friction it caused was delirious. 

His lips roamed across your collarbones, travelling further south. When his lips wrapped around your nipple your back arched off of the bed again and you whined. 

He sucked your nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the swollen bud. He teased a third finger between your legs and your staggered breaths sounded out in delight. 

As he dove three fingers inside your weeping cunt at the same time his teeth grazed your nipple, you howled so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard from the stables. 

Spencer smiled to himself around your hardened peak, slightly disbelieving he could make anyone feel this good. 

He pumped three fingers into you, once again feeling the way you stretched around him. It was a heady feeling, and caused his cock to leak with precum. 

The sounds of your arousal as he continued his thrusts filled the room as well as a string of moans from your lips. 

He moved his lips to your neglected nipple and offered it the same treatment as the first. 

Your thighs clamped hard around his hand and you could feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs. Spencer was relentless in his ministrations, pitching in and out of you, stretching you and curling his fingers, ensuring to hit your sweet spot over and over again. 

He was rocking on top of you, his hardened member grinding against your leg. You could feel the wet patch forming in the front of his boxers and feel your own stomach starting to coil. 

You cautiously cupped his jaw, extracting his lips from their venture. When he looked at you his pupils were blown wide, lips swollen. 

You drew him by the chin for a kiss. It was messy and sloppy, teeth bumping together as tongues fought to explore each other's mouths. 

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, hoping that meant you were as close as he was. He continued to kiss you and plunge deeper, deeper, until you were trembling beneath him. 

“C-close…” you stuttered against his lips. “S-so close.” 

He moaned at the mere idea of making you come, increasing his speed with his thrusts, desperate to give you the pleasure you’d so easily given him. 

All at once the cords holding you both together snapped. With a final shuddering breath as you nibbled Spencer’s bottom lip, your walls tightened around his fingers as you gave over to wave after wave of pleasure.

You moaned his name under your breath as you came undone. The sound of his name on your tongue and the feeling of you coming around his digits pushed him over the edge. 

Still rocking against you, he came with a stifled moan, burying his head into the crook of your neck and breathing frantically. 

He withdrew his fingers and you whimpered at the loss of contact but you wrapped your arms around him all the same. 

Your hearts beat erratically against one another’s while you fought to catch your breaths.

All at once, Spencer came unravelled. With his eyes closed he could see them, hear them. 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!” 

He’d pushed too far. The boundaries he’d been trying to test were coming crumbling down around him. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to…

Oh fuck.

“Fuck,” he suddenly pushed himself up and rolled off the bed, ignoring the twang in his knee as he got to his feet. “Gonna…fuck I’m so sorry.” 

You watched him run to the bathroom through bleary eyes. He slammed the door closed behind himself and seconds later the sound of vomit hitting porcelain filled your ears along with Spencer’s retches. 

You slowly pushed yourself up, the post orgasm haze still heavy and you blinked several times.

“Uh,” you croaked. “Are you okay?” 

You were met with another horrid gagging sound. 

“I’m so sorry.” His shaky voice followed through the door. “This isn’t…it’s not you.” 

“Kinda hard to believe that right now.” You stood up on trembling legs and found your dress on the floor before throwing it back on. 

“I swear it’s not…I’m so sorry. I pushed too far, I wasn’t ready.” He was sobbing, choking. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth as tears welled behind your own eyes.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…I should go.” You swallowed.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Inside the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl, Spencer heard your footsteps get further away and then he heard the door. 

Tears streamed down his face and the wet patch in his boxers made his stomach turn again. He retched once, twice and then narrowly managed to turn his head back over the toilet before he vomited again. 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!” 

“I’m not whole.” He sobbed into the toilet, emptying his entire stomach contents. “I’m never going to be whole again.” 

He wailed, crying until his eyes were sore and he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face. He vomited until there was nothing left to come up. 

His whole body shook violently as he drew his legs to his body, ignoring the stickiness in his pants and the pain it caused his knee. He wrapped his good arm around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. 

The tears wouldn’t stop, they just kept coming. He snivelled and sobbed loudly and fitfully. His temples started to throb and a near blinding headache came out of nowhere. 

His vision grew hazier around the edges before it darkened. He’d been so focused on other variables he didn’t feel the rising anger in his chest. 

By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. And it wasn’t at all a surprise when he awoke covered in blood once again. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[lovebugism]

would it be okay to ask punchy x steve babysitting the kids for an afternoon? love the trope so much!

ty for requesting anon :D i love writing for punchy and steve sm!! — steve struggles to manage a date with you while babysitting, but you take it all in stride (established relationship, fluff!, tw for mentions of minor injuries, 2.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You’re a messy eater just like Eddie’s a messy eater.

You get crumbs everywhere and smear everything all over your chin. You never notice that sauce is dripping out of the backs of your burgers until mustard plops into your lap, leaving a faint yellow stain on your black ripped jeans that you’ll never quite get out. 

You’re a tornado in the kitchen, a hurricane in restaurants — leaving messes you’ll inevitably clean up before you go because you refuse to be a burden with your chaos.

But your messiness is much more poetic than Eddie’s messiness. You’re wild and ravenous, gentle and violent. You’re a purple thunderstorm made of flesh. Everything you do feels magical.

It’s why Steve doesn’t care when you get bread crumbs all over his flannel that you stole. It’s why he smiles when you get peanut butter on your chin from a too big bite of the PB&J he made you (he cut off the crust and everything).

With your cheeks puffed like a chipmunk’s, Steve reaches across the quilt you sit on and swipes the cream from your chin. He licks it off the pad of his thumb a second later.

“Ew,” you giggle as you chew through the mouthful.

Steve smiles at the heavenly sound. It almost distracts him from the racket of the bustling park and the roughhousing teenagers behind him. Almost.

“You’re so pretty,” he observes quietly with a lopsidedly fond smile on his rosy mouth. No one should be looked at so softly, especially not when they look as messy as you do now.

“You’re disgusting,” you retort, muffled through the food in your mouth until you swallow it down.

Steve’s grin widens. “I know.”

He leans in again, this time to kiss you.

His deep cologne and floral hairspray pervade the grey autumn around you. His lips are pink and softly parted, pretty enough to melt in. 

It defies every human instinct to pull away from him.

“Kids are watching, Stevie,” you remind in a gentle murmur. 

Your eyes flit past him to Max, Lucas, and Dustin. They stand together on the concrete, watching the redheaded girl flip on her skateboard. She does a cool trick — a kick and a twist that looks too easy when she does it — and they applaud her with all their obnoxious boyishness. She pretends to be annoyed, but you can tell from here that she’s blushing.

Steve loses all his softness with a deep, annoyed huff. 

He gets so lost in you that he keeps forgetting they’re even there at all — totally ruining the picnic date he’d planned for you weeks ago.

A laugh tumbles from your mouth at your grumpy boy and his subtle pout. “You invited them, you know?”

“Not by choice,” he grouses, annoyed and unkissed.

He can say that all he wants, but it was sort of by choice. He didn’t have to answer when Dustin called him right before he left to pick you up. He didn’t have to say yes when the boy begged to be picked up with the rest of his friends — ‘cause his dad was back in town and Billy was being particularly dickish to the Mayfield-Sinclair duo.

But he did. Because he can’t ever say no to them. 

It’s in his blood to defend them now. Like he’s always been destined to protect a bunch of fourteen-year-old nerds. 

Steve glances over his shoulder with an attentive squint in his honey eyes. His heart drops when he sees Dustin shakingly balancing on Max’s skateboard. 

Lucas holds his arm to keep the curly-haired boy from toppling over. The redhead stands off the side with her arms crossed, visibly unamused but not intervening either way.

“Okay, if you idiots are gonna skateboard, can you at least put on knee pads or something?” he calls to the three of them. The boys, mostly.

Lucas scoffs out a laugh. “You think we’re just walking around carrying kneepads, Steve?”

The brunette rolls his eyes with a sigh only an annoyed older sibling could muster. The disgruntled scrunch on his face ebbs when he turns to you — the cure to all his problems.

“Just ignore them,” he assures with a tightlipped smile. “Pretend they aren’t here.”

You nod, lifting your hand to push a couple of rouge strands over his forehead. The cinnamon tresses feel like silk between your fingers. You smile when the tendrils flop back into place the second your hand is gone.

“Okay,” you tell him, knowing he’ll have a much harder time ignoring them than you will.

—————

Steve’s flannel is thick and warm, smelling of deep musk and the jelly you accidentally dripped on the collar. 

You got all flustered about it — promised him you’ll handwash it later while rubbing at the stain with a napkin, spreading it and making the whole thing worse. 

You do that a lot. You should probably be used to it now.

Steve kisses you anyway. He presses a big, smacking kiss to your rambling lips — uncaring of the teenagers standing some feet away who are bound to make fun of him for being so sweet on you. He doesn’t really care. He gets made fun of anyway, and he’s far too proud to love you.

A crooked smile tugs slow at his lips when he pulls away. Something warm and light swirls in his chest at the shocked, doe-eyed look on your face.

“God, I love you,” he mutters with a soft shake of his head, like his own adoration for you is profound to him.

You didn’t think you could be loved for your chaos. Not until now, anyway.

He cradles you against his chest with his arms around your front, pressing you and all your entropy to his heart. Sat between his legs and the cool autumn air, you curl into him like a cat — wrapping your hands around the wrists he clasps in front of you.

His exhale is warm against your shoulder when he presses his lips over the flannel in a lingering kiss. 

Your face scrunches as you shrug. Not because you didn’t like it, but because the feeling made your skin feel all sparkly, and you didn’t know how else to react.

Steve knows this. He pulls away and smiles at your profile. “Is this as weird as you thought it would be?”

Being openly affectionate in front of all the kids, he doesn’t say. Being Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s girlfriend in front of the rest of the world.

You decided to tell his friends that you were dating at summer’s end after several months of agonizing about the whole thing. Well, the friends who didn’t know anyway, ‘cause neither of you can get anything past Eddie and Robin.

Max — whom you felt the strange need to impress most for some reason — responded with a simple and mumbled “Cool.” Steve had been the most concerned about telling Dustin, though; said the boy never does well with not being told things.

The curly-haired boy’s reply was a terribly deadpanned, “How the hell did you manage to pull that off?” at Steve.

No one particularly cared. No one treated you any different, though they made fun of Steve a whole lot more than they used to. 

“It is weird!” he’d told you that summer night after you snuck away for a smoke break. “That’s what makes it so cool!” He was right. About all of it.

You shake your head as an answer to his question. “No. Not really. They’re all super nice.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs. “To you.”

You smile as you turn your head, tilting your chin to look up at his stubbly profile. “Well, you’re like their older brother. They annoy you because they love you.”

“No, they annoy me ‘cause they’re annoying,” the boy grouses, then cuts himself off to shout at the kids some feet away. Lucas is gliding on Max’s skateboard now, with all the finesse of a baby deer just learning to walk. The sight irks his babysitting senses. “Hey! Be careful on that thing! You guys literally have no clue what you’re doing!”

“Speak for yourself!” Lucas shouts back, then almost loses his balance. 

Dustin laughs in response, loud and high-pitched.

Steve turns to you with a tightlipped expression and wide eyes, motioning to the kids with his palm. “See? See what I mean?”

“They love you,” you answer fondly.

“Also, I’m not their brother, alright? I’m the babysitter. That’s totally different.”

You perk up at that. 

He never liked admitting to being an unofficial babysitter. 

You don’t think he ever has before now. 

“Well, babysitters get paid,” you remind him with a scrunched nose and glittering gaze. “And you’re just watching them ‘cause you love them, so…”

Steve’s face goes flat as he thinks on your words. 

You’re right. Because you’re always right. 

The realization makes him sigh.

A gasp sounds from the distance, floating on the wind. A gutwrenching clattering noise follows quickly after — chipped wood on hard pavement. A low groan of pain comes seconds later.

You and Steve look to the side quick enough to get whiplash. Max and Dustin stand on either side of Lucas, who’s now sitting on the sidewalk and clutching his knee with his face screwed with agony. 

The brunette boy reacts immediately. “Fuck. I knew it,” he mumbles, urging you to sit up with a gentle palm to your shoulder so he can stand. He abandons the picnic he set up and rushes to the ailing boy’s side. You follow quickly behind him.

“Are you okay? Did you break anything?” Steve blurts in one breath with his hands on his hips. His eyes are wide as they dart over Lucas’ form, looking for any other injuries besides the one he cups with his hand.

“No,” the boy answers with gritted teeth. “Just fucked up my knee…”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Lucas forgets his pain for a moment, just to give Steve a dumbfounded stare. “What? No. It’s just a scrape, dude.”

Steve nods, pleased and smirking, as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Good. ‘Cause know I get to say I told you so.”

All three kids roll their eyes at that, accompanied by a chorus of groans.

You dig into the bag hanging on your shoulder, fingers ciphering blindly through miscellaneous junk for the mini first aid kit you always keep inside. You’re the clumsiest person you’ve ever met. It’s sorta compulsory at this point.

You pull out a bandaid and crouch at Lucas’s side, dropping your purse to the pavement. “Can I see?” you ask him.

Silently, he pulls his hand away. The scrape on his knee is gnarly looking — pink and bright red — but it’s just barely bleeding. He hisses through his teeth when you spread the bandage across it, using the gentlest touch you didn’t think you could muster.

“Clean it out when you get home, ‘kay? So it won’t get infected or whatever,” you tell him as you dab at the pale-colored plaster with your fingertips. “Then put another bandage on, and you’ll be good as new.”

Lucas shoots you a small smile, shy and grateful. “Thanks, Punchy,” he mumbles as Dustin and Max help him stand again.

“No worries—”

“And everyone stay off the skateboard, alright?” Steve commands from behind you when you rise to full height again. “Don’t make Punchy clean up any more scrapes. She doesn’t even like you guys that much.”

“That’s not true,” you retort with a snorted laugh.

There’s a silence and a bright blue glare from the redhead beside Lucas.

Steve caves with a sigh. “Everyone stay off the skateboard except the girl who actually knows what she’s doing.”

Max smiles in a Max sort of way. The expression barely hints at her lips. It mostly resides in her sparkling ocean eyes.

The three of them saunter off again, totally unfazed, with the sort of resilience you only have when you’re a teenager.

“Little shits,” Steve mumbles, shaking his head.

You nudge him with your shoulder, still smiling. “Be nice.”

He tries to keep his grumpy disposition when he looks down at you. He quickly finds that it’s virtually impossible. He looks at you and he’s smiling before he even realizes it.

“You’re really good with them, you know?” he observes, fond and honeyed again.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re so good with them,” you retort with another nudge to his shoulder, utterly unable to take any compliment ever given to you. “I learned all my babysitting techniques from Indiana’s best, Stevie.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” he grins and leans down to kiss you.

You try to kiss him back. It’s hard when you’re smiling so wide.

[femmeanonymelives]

Steven Grant x Vampire!Reader Headcanon

This is NSFW. 18+ stuff y'all. Minors please find something family-friendly. Warning: This is contains a vampire. Blood/gore, sexual content, public sexual content, and Steven being a horny over a Vampire.

Note from Ari: This is my very first time in years trying to write smut. I was inspired by the many AI Steven bots. The Vampire!Steven one by @melodygatesauthor helped out a lot, and the many, many Boyfriend erotic audios on Quinn.

He meets you at a library that is open 24 hours a day.

You stand there in the history section, wearing a dark colored leather trench coat and floral dress. Your skin is pale, but still appears human. The rest of your appearance is almost human-like.

Steven is shy when approaching you. 

Women like you terrify him. 

Marc and Jake tell him to go for it. If he doesn’t they will.

He approaches you with a shy hello. You turn him to say hi.

He asks what is your favorite period in history.

You tell him during the Victorian era and give your explanation why.

Mostly because you were a baby vampire during that time, but you didn’t tell him that.

You gave the normal history buff shepile.

You are worried that he might think you are a freak.

He doesn’t.

Two of you share dinner at a local late-night diner. 

You kept staring at his neck. Looking at the veins. Wondering what would happen if you sink your fangs in.

No. He is a nice guy. A human. He is actually normal

Steven asks why your eyes went dark and bloodshot.

You leave him in the diner and run to a nearby alley.

He follows you. He sees your fangs.

“It is not what it looks like.”

“You are a vampire.”

“I am not going to hurt you.”

He moves up closer to you, touching your face. “How old are you?”

“I am 23 years old, but I have been that age since 1850.” Steven isn’t frightened of you; he is worried. 

Marc and Jake are freaking out. “You need to leave her now.” “She is not worth the hassle. She will kill us.”

Steven kisses you instead and you kiss him back. Marc and Jake freaking out wondering what the hell is wrong with Steven.

His tender touches make you feel like you are human again.

You are with your back against the wall. Your lips against his neck as your fangs pierced in his neck.

He groans loudly, but not in pain; in pleasure.

You start drinking his blood as you feel him press his erection against you; trying to get himself some sort of relief.

You pull yourself off his neck. He stares in complete lust as he stares at your blood-stained lips and chin.

He takes you back to his place.

His flat is scattered with books. Mostly from Egyptian history and journals. 

You started to really fall for him.

You both take off each others’ clothes. 

You trace the bite mark on his neck with your finger. He tells you he liked being bit by you.

You straddle his hips as you start to ride him.

His flat fills with skin slapping against skin, moans from the both of you. 

He begs for you to bite him when you come as he starts pounding his cock deeper and deeper inside you. 

You tell him no. You didn’t want to lose control.

He whimpers to you that he will tell you to let go of him.

You bite into his neck as you cum.

Steven whimpers and moans loudly as you bite into him again. 

His arms wrap around you tightly as he can keep you close to you. 

Grinding your hips into his as you ride out your orgasm.

His thrusts become deeper and sloppier as he whimpers out that he is close.

You pull your mouth from him as he marks your neck and breasts with love bites.

He cums inside you and hard.

You bite your wrist and give him your blood so his neck wound can heal.

He pulls out and gets a washcloth to clean you up.

You ask if he is okay as you trace over the scar on his neck where you bite him earlier.

He responds that he is okay.

You notice his accent is more American, not British.

“Steven? You okay?”

“I am not Steven.. My name is Marc, and we need to talk.”

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Hate That I Love You ♡ ~

(( Day #6 )) Scaramouche, Xiao, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wanted to write enemies to lovers so bad i love a mean!character.... it kinda went yandere maybe? that makes it better!! ((after editing... why do i kinda want to add more like,,, i love mean!characters and their soft spots...))

[[also my sweet anon who asked for another arranged marriage im gonna try to post it tmrrrrr maybeeee-]]

WC -  1,706

~~~

Scaramouche

“What are you wearing?”

Scaramouche’s voice is filled to the brim with disgust as he mockingly scoffs down at you, you’re a fool.

“You look ridiculous.” Despite the scrunch of his nose and the bright hatred burning in his eyes, his irritation is the polar opposite of the swirl of desire in his stomach.

He can’t help but run his eyes along your bare legs, greedily zoning in on your soft thighs. Why are you wearing such a revealing outfit? He hates it.

“Thanks,” You spit back with just as much frustration and annoyance, you dislike it just as much as him as the material on your skin burns. “I don’t want to be wearing it either but someone has to seduce the head of the Kujou clan.”

“What?” Scaramouche now sounds dangerous, more so than normal but you ignore it altogether.

“Were you asleep during the last meeting? Once we get the Tenryou under our control, the delusion factory can continue production without any suspicion.” You roll your eyes at him through your mirror, sneering at his hard expression, as you pull all of your hair into your fists. “Should I keep my hair up or down, what do they like in Inazuma?”

As you fumble with your hair, Scaramouche heads further into your room. He slowly walks behind you and does not go unnoticed through your mirror.

The puppet thought that with Pierro sending the two of you on a joint mission to Inazuma that he would finally get a break from the rest of the Harbingers. Scaramouche planned to ditch the efforts halfway through but now, as he looks at you, he can’t think about anything other than stopping this ridiculous plan.

“You’ll never be able to seduce a man like this,” He hisses and roughly slams both of his palms against your vanity, essentially locking you in under his broad form. Scaramouche nearly begins to shake, his lies choke him by his throat. The worst part of your ‘seduction tactics’ is that you don’t even know how powerful they are.

“Right,” You laugh and wave him off with the back of your hand before running your fingers along the various products on your desk. Your earring is right beneath your touch, almost in your grasp but then Scaramouche grabs you.

He cups your jaw with a rough hand and grabs your wrist, effortlessly pinning it to your table.

“Look at you,” He murmurs lowly into your ear, staring at your annoyed expression in the mirror. With the close proximity, he doesn’t hesitate to take a deep breath of your floral shampoo. The smell is intoxicating. “you couldn’t even if you tried.”

“Well, the Jester thinks I could.” You snap and it makes the man behind you grit his teeth, you know exactly what buttons of his to push. It becomes a daily thing to push his limits past his breaking point. “I’ll come back to you untouched, I promise."

The gentle smile on your lips, teasing him with a subtle upturn, makes Scaramouche drop his hands. He rips his touch off of you like you’re made of burning glass.

“As if I want you.” No amount of grit teeth or annoyance can make you ignorant of his lie.

You continue to place your earring in as he stomps his way out of your room.

“Hmm, I know that you do.”

Xiao

“I had nowhere else to go.”

To say Xiao is shocked by your presence would be an understatement, he’s completely frozen in place almost as if he is a statue on the roof of the Wagshuu Inn. You’ve finally found him and sought him out on your own despite all of your differences. He’s astonished but, doesn’t let it show on his face.

“I know that you don’t like me but, I need your help.” The vulnerability in your eyes does not cover the irritation pinching your skin, your lips are curled upwards as you try to fight back a sneer and there’s a slight twitch in your brow. Xiao continues to remain silent, merely observing you, and you take that as a sign to explain further. “There’s a group of Hilichurls that have made a camp on the road back to my house. I would have gone around them but, there were two Ruin Hunters on either side of the path.”

“Why not ask Ganyu?” He finally speaks, voice low and quiet as he brings up your coworker. You stubbornly bite the inside of your cheek and turn your face away from him.

“I’m not going to bother her on the one night she is able to get some rest.” Your tone is dangerous, malicious even, and Xiao thinks that if your strength rivaled your hatred for him then maybe you would have been able to get rid of those monsters yourself.

But, despite it all, he’d rather you not fight. A pathetic mortal being, a human, could never do the work of an adeptus. He has made that perfectly clear to you time and time again.

“Fine.” In a flash, he is before on you the balcony and holding out a strong hand. You look at it, look at him with uncertainty but place your fingers over his own nonetheless. Xiao scoffs at your sudden timidness before engulfing your wrist in a strong gloved hand. Before you know it, the two of you are in front of the dirt path that leads to your house.

The adeptus keeps a strong grip on you as you stabilize yourself on the ground, still not used at all to teleportation. He guides you to a tree far enough away from the chaos that you would not get hurt by him or the monsters, and forces you to sit down by the base of the overflowing wooden limbs.

“Wait here.”

You don’t bother to watch as he slaughters the beings, the sounding clunks of metal falling to the ground and screeches of surprise do not phase you. As someone who monitors and works alongside the adeptus under the Liyue Qixing, this chaos is nothing new.

Xiao returns to you in less than a minute, looking as indifferent as before.

“It is done.”

You bite down on your tongue to hold back any snarky remarks, you need the break to think of a way to properly thank him.

“Thank you,” The phrase of gratitude is a start and Xiao helps you up back onto your feet with a strong hand. You give him a gentle bow of your head, looking him in the eyes for once as you flash him a genuine smile. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

Xiao blinks at you before tightly swallowing. Something shifts in his features, you see it but then, he hides it all behind his mask.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Zhongli

“I do not need his help nor will I ask for it.” Under your angry expression, Ganyu nearly flinches.

“(Y/N)-”

“Why would I ask the man who ditched his status as a god to live among the mortals? As if I would ever reach out to him and ask for help when he is the entire reason I am in trouble in the first place!” You don’t listen to what else Ganyu has to say, you’ve made up your mind and leave her behind at the Yujing Terrace.

You’ll die before you let the mortal help you, you absolutely refuse.

The world will heal that way, life will be balanced since you were supposed to die thousands of years ago. For whatever reason that god saved you and forced you to a life of violence and bloodshed under his contract, you’ll never understand. Had he not saved you, you wouldn’t be in this position. You would have rather your life end early than fight until your last breath.

“This is ridiculous,” You murmur lowly as you stare at the scenery now before you. Beneath the Huaguang Stone Forest, it seems that every common enemy known to man is present. There are too many Ruin Guards to count and for each handful, there is another Ruin Grader towering over them. Hilicurls roam underneath them, rummaging for food as the Mitacurls rest with axes and shields by their sides. “why do I have to do this?”

Hostile beings or not, you would rather not slaughter them but, each night their numbers keep growing. A handful of weeks ago it was three Ruin Guards and now there are at least thirty. Each and every single one of them has a duty to fulfill just as you do.

It becomes painfully clear as the need to protect Liyue grows stronger in your gut, your weapon appearing in your hand out of thin air. You’re led by a contract, signed by Morax, to slaughter until the light in your life gives out.

You hate him for it.

“Do not attempt to fight all of those creatures,” Zhongli announces his presence behind you with his voice, controlled and calm. Somehow, he appeared without you knowing. You nearly drop your weapon in annoyance but, remain still and silent. “I heard from Ganyu that you were facing troubles.”

“It’s none of your business.” You murmur back and Zhongli combats this by placing one of his strong hands on your shoulder.

“Is it not?” He asks and steps closer, nearly over top of you as he stares down at your hard expression. “I take care of my friends.”

“We are not friends.”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Zhongli brushes his finger over your cheek and you instantly flinch away from the touch. His strong grip only grows firmer to keep you still, finger now brushing under your jaw. “Regardless of what we are, I take care of my Adepti.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, I don’t want you to.” You glance over your shoulder to face him with cold eyes and, it doesn’t phase Zhongli in the slightest. He lowers his face slightly before angling his gaze to your own.

“I will always take care of you. You will live until I can let you go, my gem.”

You despise the insatiable obsession he harbors for you.

2023/02/11 ♡