#this took way longer than it needed to. no more rendering

[goonsbrain]

hugh fan of this weapon that kills me instantly

[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

᱖ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich's true identity, angst with comfort, happy ending dw.

᱖ from hye: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter eight

“i want everything i asked for.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: ‘fuck it, do him scared!’ or whatever the saying is, no plot cuz y’all have had enough of that, pheromones are putting in work cuz you have heart eyes, y’all are touch-starved and pent up, half-transformation demon alastor (i hope that makes sense lol), implied demon alastor, little bit of angst or even hurt/comfort at the end? 🥲 smut: clothes ripping, scratching, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight degradation & praise kink dynamics, blood play & biting, handjob, orgasm denial, cream pie

word count: 6.6k *maniacal laughter*

author’s note: it wouldn’t be right to start this off without a formal apology for the cliffhanger and then, subsequently, the publishing delay 🥲✨ this ended up being more of a labor of love than i had expected; i just seemed to have such bad luck, this week of all weeks. thank you for your patience, and i hope this makes up for it! @hazelfoureyes one of these days i’ll have some more for you, but until then darling, you ever so kindly ‘asked’ me for smut so… 💅🏻💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Alastor meant for it to be chaste, really he did. And while he had desperately hoped for acceptance, the ardor with which you returned the kiss was unexpected. The grip of your hands around his wrists was fierce, pulling him in; fingers like sticky fibers against the patch of bare skin nestled between his gloves and the cuff of his shirt. 

So you were hungry, too… He couldn’t help but smile against your mouth at the thought. 

Finally, his luck was turning around.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you offered your help to Alastor, a kiss was the last thing you ever expected. 

Actually, you had been fully prepared for him to hurt you somehow, whether it was his intention or not. He had gotten upset so quickly, you assumed it must have been residual animosity from the meeting with Valentino that he could no longer contain. The more you thought about it, you truly understood how degraded he must have been by the whole affair, filling you with a guilt you worried might never go away. He needed a victory.

So offering your help was the least you could do.

But you never could have imagined the way he took your face in his strong hands, holding you with such care despite the intensity roiling off him in his half-formed demonic state. The strain on his face as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes switching back from black with red dials to that familiar searing red. The storming hunger you saw in them, half-lidded, as he closed the gap between you…

Your mind was practically rendered blank, running on instinct; the warm ache throbbing between your hips quickly taking up any remaining space that was left.

His mouth was softer than you expected but his press against you was firm and wickedly practiced. You felt him smile against you and for a moment you forgot to breathe, the resulting gasp being the perfect opportunity for Alastor’s tongue to snake into your mouth. If your eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would have rolled to the back of your head. His tongue was soft and big and hot, his movements steady and filled with purpose; not a drop of wasted effort. You could only hope to keep up…

It was such arduous work keeping your hands at his wrists, floored by the intense desire you had to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t know your limits here. He was still riled up — if anything, you had heard his antlers grow — and you didn’t want to make any wrong moves.

So you put all your longing into the grip of your fingers and mouth, your mind wandering on the feeling of him. Large, elegant hands cupping your face like glass. His body looming over you, offering shelter you were more than willing to accept. His mouth so hot against yours it would leave you feeling cold once it was gone. And he smelled so good this close, smoky and verdant like a bonfire on a crisp autumn night. 

Your thighs rubbed together from the pulse radiating there, and he let out a small groan against your mouth as your nails absently dug into the skin of his wrists. The sound of him simultaneously made your legs weak and fanned the flame between them. His voice had always been nice — he didn’t build a career for himself on the radio for nothing — but you felt a growing fear at the aspect of never hearing something like that again after he was sated; knowing that no matter what it would haunt you for eternity. 

I really am so fucked…

He was pecking now, his breath and teeth and tongue ghosting over your swollen mouth and face as he feverishly placed multiple at a time. You wanted to reciprocate so badly, whether with your lips or hands, but it was clear he needed to ravish you first so you stayed put in a shocking exhibit of will-power. But when you felt the tug of his teeth against the corner of your jaw you couldn’t stop the shaky moan that escaped you, not even noticing how your hips rolled on nothing but air.

That’s all it took. 

Alastor pulled away and gave a quick kiss to your hands before dropping them to take up the torn fabric of your collar. He gave it a sharp pull, tearing your dress straight through to the waist; the sound ringing out in the quiet of your room with the promise of what’s to come. You were too stunned by the suddenness of the action, but the look on your face must have really been something if the expression you were seeing on his was any indication — ravenous and wild. 

Your chest heaved with quickening breath, heartbeat kicking and head empty as you felt all the blood in your body rushing down. Too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you dared to bury your face in his chest, grateful to be just tall enough to reach. Mortifying as it was, it was all you could think to do. 

Though safety wasn’t the only thing you found, pressing in so close to him like this, your throat going dry at the feeling of his arousal against you. No amount of time or experience could have prepared you for this, for him. You were beginning to think that there would be nothing left once he was through with you.

Just need a minute…

Mercifully, he let you. Even going so far as to cradle you against him, cupping the back of your head with his left hand. You relaxed into him, a hot puff of air leaving your mouth to soak into the fabric of his clothes. Alastor’s pleased hum in response vibrated against your face, and you brought your hands up to grip the lapels of his coat for fear of crumbling at his feet.

As you steeled yourself, he didn’t desist from his poking and prodding at your exposed back with his free hand. It disappeared briefly, followed by the faint sound of something falling to the carpet before the air was ripped from your lungs at the touch of his hot, bare skin against yours. You whined into his chest as your back arched against his palm, your fingers nearly ripping through his coat with the force of your grip, earning a gruff and sinister chuckle from him. Being able to bask in the feeling of the rumble in his chest against you was a lovely consolation, though. And just under that… his heartbeat. 

His hand against your back regained your attention then, scratching and massaging at its leisure; nails tracing indistinguishable shapes along your skin. Traveling up and down your spine at first, then your shoulders and, finally, the back of your neck where he paused. 

His message read loud and clear: time was up. 

Alastor pulled you away from him with a gentle firmness, managing to handle you delicately despite his clear desire for haste. You could see it burning in his eyes with no intent to extinguish any time soon. He was so mystifying like this, you couldn’t help but drink him in. Stately, powerful… beautiful. It felt impossible now to have ever been afraid of him in this state of half-transformation. He didn’t seem to mind the admiration, soft smile and lust-heavy eyes radiating with ego.

His antlers look so handsome when they’re branched out like this…

“Shouldn’t you have offered to take my coat by now? I’m your guest, aren’t I?” he teased as he swiped your dumbstruck mouth with the pad of his thumb. The filter dipped in and out over his quiet, low tone of voice, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core and cheeks as you fought the urge to nuzzle your face against his bare hand. How had he already reduced you to this? “But I suppose I haven’t been well-mannered myself. Just look at what’s become of your dress.”

His face was smug as he played with the decimated fabric, fingers dancing across your exposed neck and shoulders before pulling down the long sleeves. They had been the glue, apparently, your dress falling past your hips with ease and into a heap on the floor in near silence. Goosebumps pricked your skin as you stood before him in your underwear, already feeling naked as he took you in. You noticed him focus in on your shoulder and neck, the draw of his eyebrows confirming your earlier suspicion that he had left a bruise.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt,” you lied self-consciously, unable to keep the nerves out of your voice. It sounded like an apology. He hadn’t meant it and in the grand scheme of things was a bruise really so bad? It would be gone before you knew it.

He didn’t seem convinced, a sound of disapproval coming from behind his closed lips before a smile took its place. “Hmm… if you say so. Perhaps a kiss to make it better?”

Alastor wasted no time leaning down to place his mouth there, and you sighed as the heat of his wide, wet tongue swiped over it before he closed his lips with a small smack. As he nuzzled in — kissing, licking, sucking, nipping — your shaky fingers took to the task of unbuttoning his coat as he had suggested. The action earning you a growl and a bite, not yet enough to break the skin but taking your breath away all the same; the fire in your belly now flickering up into your chest.

Once the coat was loose you ran your hands under it, starting near his waist to travel up his chest until you reached his broad shoulders. Was he the one who was so hot, or was it you? It was impossible to tell. You used the top of your hands to start working the coat off of him, and he paused from his effort at your neck to assist with removing his arms from it before tossing it off to the side — his remaining glove along with it. You caught sight of the saliva glistening around his mouth and chin before he resumed his station and didn’t even try to hold back the soft moan that escaped you.

What was the point?

With a snarl — that was the closest thing you could think to call it — his hands hooked behind your knees and hiked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him for purchase as you gasped. Alastor’s mouth found yours again and you held his face to keep steady as you hunched over him, tears forming at the corner of your closed eyes from the relief of being able to touch him this time.

This kiss wasn’t as poised as the first had been. It was hurried and open-mouthed, messy and deep. Not enough, not enough, not enough. You broke away this time, seizing your opportunity to explore his face with your lips as he had yours. His claws bit into the flesh of your ass as your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking at the pulse you found there. The resulting buck of your hips from the action and the moan he let out only pulling another from both of you.

You didn’t even notice that he had been walking until you were suddenly tossed onto the bed, his body immediately caging you in beneath him. You hooked your legs around him as he ground into you, your cry of pleasure from the friction echoing off the walls. He did it again and you whined, squirming, his hands on either side of your head as he leered down; red eyes glowing with satisfaction.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took a moment to take in the sight before him, feeling his eyes glitch as he roamed over your flushed face, but made quick work of grabbing it with one hand to pucker your mouth before returning to explore it with his tongue.

It surprised him how much he was enjoying this; kissing you with abandon, somehow never scratching the incessant itch despite his efforts. He captured your bottom lip with his teeth, resiliently managing not to bite straight through it as you moaned into his mouth.

“Alastor…!” 

His name was a song on your breath, scorching down from his ears to his cock, all of which reacted with a twitch.

One string loose. 

How many more would he need to cut before you went slack?

Who had bound you up like this in the first place? It certainly hadn’t been him. On the contrary, he was so eager to see you torn open and bare, stripped of all the little secrets tangled like knots on your tether to him. Always keeping your guard up around him wasn’t only irritating… it was selfish. And there was only one of you here allowed that luxury. 

Still, this was quite the consolation prize, seeing you surrender to him so easily. He had barely gotten started and you were already making such a pretty face for him; a new favorite, even. Your little pout that normally inspired vexation looked sweet like this, swollen with his kisses. It was an image he would soon not forget, being so much better than what he had imagined.

Your scent had truly blossomed now, dizzying him with the potency of its floral, nutty musk; just a hint of sweetness underneath. It complimented his own smoky, green, and bitter scent so well. But Alastor was ready to make his next new discovery, his hips finally lifting away from you as he gave you a final peck on the mouth.

“Hmmm, delicious as your mouth is, there’s another place I’m quite eager to kiss.” He could feel the wickedness on his face as he said it, unable to contain the static that flared around him as you breathed out a curse, body trembling.

Alastor made a slow descent, teasing you with licks and bites and kisses to draw out as many moans and whimpers as he could from you. Such music you made for him. Only for him. It was a good thing he had already resolved to avoid sleep as much as he could in the future; he wouldn’t get much anyway with the sounds you made ringing in his head like church bells.

He could see the damp soaked into your underwear before he even touched them, already intoxicated by the smell and heat wafting off your core. He’d have to be careful here… not an easy task, but he’d manage. The self-advised warning did little to stop him from tearing the garment in half with ease, enjoying the wide-eyed look you gave him as you quickly propped up on your elbows from the sound.

“I’d apologize for frightening you, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it,” he said, holding your gaze as he palmed your bare sex, thrilled by how wet you already were. You were having such a hard time keeping your composure, serving only to egg him on. He hummed and continued, almost surprised by the words that came out of his mouth, “You don’t seem to mind, though… how lewd.”

Your head fell back with a loud whine, arms giving out so that you were flat on your back again; face scarlet as his fingers moved against you, collecting your arousal. His dick throbbed against him at the sight, leaking onto his skin and clothes. He couldn’t help the hiss that spilled from between his teeth when he tested you with his middle finger, tight as you were wet.

“Oh my… it’s been a while for you too, hm? I’m honored,” he cooed, relishing the way you whimpered and clenched at his words. “I do worry how you’ll fare… Contrary to the restraint I’ve shown so far, I must warn you… I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.”

Your eyes shot open with shock, and with that he removed his finger and brought it up, putting the entirety of it in his mouth to suck you off as you watched. His eyes closed in pleasure, groaning as his tongue lapped up every bit of you, savoring every second. Clean and tart… like a ripe summer cherry. He couldn’t stop the bit of drool that escaped the corner of his mouth, the rush of saliva incensed by your taste coming on too quickly to swallow it all.

Alastor was breathing hard through his nose, a fresh wave of hunger — he wasn’t sure what else to call it — trembling through him with a fierce burning need. His smile and voice were sharp, static fraying as he spoke, “Hmmm… My imagination wasn’t even close. Aiming to please, dear?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

His fascination with licking you off him would be your second-death. Not only that, but you hadn’t expected him to say any of the obscene things that were spilling from his mouth, let alone the way you were responding to them. You had been subject to dirty talk before and enjoyed it (if done well), but… there was just something about it all coming from Alastor that set your veins on fire.

“Alastor, please, it’s embarrassing,” you pleaded through gasps, watching through half-open eyes as he licked away at his hand. You felt as if you had a fever, your face was so hot, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead with sweat.

As if falling on deaf ears, he merely proceeded to give a sharp tug to his bowtie, removing it in one go before unbuttoning his shirt. Something about the harsh way he pulled his shirt from the belted waist of his pants made you dizzy, but you felt a scream die in your throat watching the way his shoulders and chest moved as he freed his arms, with just the slightest flex of his abdomen; your eyes unable to resist following the trail of hair below his navel that disappeared under his belt.

You had made peace with your budding attraction to him — it was easier that way, considering your near-constant state of proximity — but this felt like being tossed directly into the fire.

Burning at the stake.

As he towered over you, you took in the large, pink scar lacerated across his chest from left shoulder to the right side of his ribcage. There had been mentions of the battle against Adam and his Exorcists within the group; how terrifying it had been, how brave everyone was. The loss of their friend Sir Pentious, who had died trying to help protect them against Adam. That was when the conversation normally tapered off, the grief still too close at his loss, but also because of what led up to it.

From what you understood, Adam had been Alastor’s appointed target to handle. One he was unmatched against, if the scar was any indication. A killing blow he had managed to survive. You hoped the pity you felt wasn’t making its way into your gaze as you looked at him, knowing he’d dislike it. Still… You sat up with hands stretched out, the instinct to touch and comfort him too strong to fight. But he pushed you back down, a shadow coming over his face as he bent over you. 

“Patience, sweetheart. I still owe you a kiss.”

You didn’t have time to process the dismissal before he raked his nails on your skin as he dipped down, your back arching up to meet them as you breathed through the small sting of pain. A splash of sobriety hit you as you felt the heat of his breath hovering over your cunt, your stomach tight as he moved closer, a wanton cry as he finally lapped at you with his tongue; a slow, wide, firm sweep from hole to clit. Sealed with a kiss, as promised.

You shuddered and gripped the duvet as if your life depended on it. The image of him nestled between your legs making your brain short-circuit. His eyes were shrouded with a predation that should have terrified you. So why did it thrill you instead?

 “Oh my god…”

That wicked grin of his…

“Last I checked, Hell is the absence of God. Let’s try again, shall we?” 

He hiked your legs over his shoulders, looped his arms around to grab the top of your thighs, and pulled you to his mouth. You saw white as he didn’t hesitate in setting a voracious pace, his tongue dipped into you — long and thick — as his nose pushed against your clit with every open-and-close of his mouth. His chin providing a pleasant hardness that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

He was incessant. 

Sucking, prodding, licking, and swallowing; a starving man who may never eat or drink again. Your hands found purchase on his antlers, a bit smaller now but still looming, earning a moan of approval into your heat that blossomed in your chest. The room was filled with the sound of wet smacks and a harmony of throaty groans from him; keening, breathy moans from you. Both unabashed.

In between breathing his name, words were tumbling from your mouth that you couldn’t register, too lost in the feeling of him on you. Not just your pussy, but your legs, too. His hands gripping your thighs so fiercely as your hips rolled against his face that you hoped for bruises. A keepsake. It was impossible to know if this would ever happen again.

You hadn’t even realized you were slipping away from yourself until he pulled back with a sharp gasp, finally coming up for air, jerking his antlers from your hands. The lower half of his face shimmered with a blend of your arousal and his spit, the sclera of his eyes gone black, dials taking the shape of his red irises. Again, your arms reached out, shaking from the effort as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Kiss…,” you barely managed to say, dizzied as you were.

Alastor obliged, climbing up to your open hands as you pulled him down to you, unable to find the strength to meet him halfway. He flinched as you ran your tongue over his left cheek, licking up some of the mess there as he wiped at the other side with the back of his hand. The taste of your combined fluids sent a jolt of pleasure through you and you moaned through the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that followed. The laugh that escaped him was sinister but sent another wave of warmth through you all the same.

He rewarded you with a finger, followed quickly by another. And before you knew it, another. Pumping in and out of you with a delicious stretch and a maddeningly consistent pace before they curled, teasing your spongy core as his thumb circled your clit at the switch; the sudden onset of your orgasm had your body trembling under his touch.

“Ohh… mm, fuck…! Hmmmnn… Ah—! Alasto—ahh!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His voice was rough but soothing. A crackle of static melded into your moans and the wet sounds of your cunt, and he gave his head a violent shake as if to clear it. There was nothing but a growling need when he spoke next. “I’ve got you, don’t fight it. Let me see how pretty that sullen face of yours looks when you cum…!”

It was all too much. Just the intensity of his eyes on yours boxed in between your hands holding his face could have sent you over the edge. But his words again, that pet name… 

The tether snapped so viciously you were fairly certain you passed out for a moment, your vision gone black as you screamed. Only to be brought back to consciousness by Alastor’s fingers slowly riding the wave of your orgasm, no longer stroking with purpose — you were clenched around him so tightly his previous pace would have probably injured you both — but with a languid solace. Graciously accepting every roll of your hips into his hand as you moaned his name and gasped for breath.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

God, it was so fucking satisfying to see your face twisted up, eyebrows knit and your pouty lips salaciously framing your open mouth as you cried out for him. Another perfectly shattered expectation, much like the rest of this experience had been. He didn’t even mind that your eyes were shut. The consolation being the glimpse he caught of them rolling to the back of your head before they were out of sight. That, and, this would only be your first. He was determined to get at least one more out of you before this was over, truly unsure how much you could handle.

He was surprising even himself, speaking to you in the manner he was. He enjoyed a good tease, but he couldn’t recall going to this extent before. Perhaps it was a result of the pheromones, but he simply couldn’t seem to help it. The reactions it was pulling from you were too exhilarating to deny himself… and by extension, you.

His static was filling the air, buzzing with the energy of a lightning storm as he sucked you off his fingers once more with a snarl; his free hand sloppily undoing his belt before giving it a freeing tug, desperately hard erection weeping slightly at the bit of alleviation. As the realization that he was preparing to enter you sunk in another ripple of goosebumps pinpricked his skin, causing him to bite down on the inside of his lip from the sensation.

The taste of his own blood came with inspiration.

Alastor tucked back some of your damp hair before bringing his face down to meet yours, swiping at your lips with his blood-coated tongue. Testing the waters. Your eyebrows drew together and you stretched underneath him, as if waking from a night’s sleep, before blinking your eyes open. He watched as your tongue responded with a quick prod of what he had left there, and felt his smile grow when you let out a hum of content.

He would never tire of being right.

“I thought you might like that, my little killer… Have some more,” he whispered against you. Giving your lips another rough lick before taking your mouth again, groaning into each other as your tongue soothed his still-bleeding lip.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Something about this kiss was different.

There was a fierceness this time that hadn’t been there before, no doubt spurred on by the blood pooling in Alastor’s mouth. It had been shocking to taste at first but then… you found that it wasn’t too bad. Diluted with saliva, it was almost sweet, and you relished the way he enjoyed your tasting of it.

Your hands traveled up to the back of his head, gently scratching the prickly velvet of his undercut with one while the other pulled at the hair on his crown. His hiss into your mouth made you moan with another jump of your hips, and you felt him shift over you then; vaguely aware of the sound of him unceremoniously tugging down his pants before he took your hand from his crown and brought it between you.

The gasp that escaped you was sharp, your hand instinctively wrapping around his length as he guided you through stroking him. He was so hard, wet, and heavy, burning to the touch, but distant alarms were ringing about your ability to take him all. It scared you how much you wished to try.

His moan of relief was another keepsake, the sound of it so soft and pleading in your ear that you nearly sobbed from your desire. You couldn’t help but wonder what his face looked like, making a sound like that, and found yourself jealous of the skin of your neck he was hiding in. You stayed like this for a moment, his hand leaving you to work on its own as he cradled the opposite side of your head to lick and kiss your neck between gasps and moans. With a final nip to your skin Alastor pulled back, the mattress dipping as he put all of his weight onto his forearm to the right of your head as he adjusted himself.

“Don’t close your eyes,” was all he said before pressing into you, the tip of his cock already threatening to overwhelm you as it teased your entrance. 

It was not an easy task, your eyebrows drawing together in such a way that it nearly blurred your vision. You whined between closed lips, doing your best to breathe through the sweet stretch of him finally entering you. Despite his direction, he didn’t seem to be doing much better; sweat beading on his forehead over furrowed brows, kiss-swollen mouth open with panting breaths. Flushed cheeks. Even in the state he had reduced you to, you were trying to sear the image of his lust-strained face into your psyche.

He was rocking his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to him with each little thrust as your arousal coated him, easing his advance; breathy moans collecting between you in puffs of steam, joining the two of you together in all the places you weren’t touching. 

All the while, your eyes were locked on each other. Had anyone else ever seen his the way they were now and found them beautiful instead of horrifying? You moaned as you stared at him; taking in his large, elegant antlers and sweat-damp hair, reminding you of the bedhead you had seen the other morning. His handsome and sinister face. He could easily tear you to shreds — and in a certain way, he was — but you were overwhelmed at the amount of care he had shown you so far, even with his earlier warning. 

His thrusts were building in sharpness, parting you with a tantalizing push-and-pull until he finally bottomed out with a growl. You cried out from the fullness he gave you, already twitching around him despite his stillness as he gave you both a moment to try and catch your breath. 

Alastor peppered your face with kisses and licks as you relaxed into him, testing you with a shallow thrust that had you biting down on your lip. Another. Another. Another. Until your mouth was hanging open, your hands traveling up to hold onto his triceps in your need for stability and to keep him close. Suddenly you felt him leave you completely, not even able to process the emptiness before he slammed back into you with a harsh grunt that made you squeal; writhing as he pressed up into your cervix.

He must have really enjoyed that, because he did it again. And again. And again. Settling into an excruciatingly blissful pace, his hard length massaging knots out of your body you didn’t know where there. Your legs instinctively hooked around him, nails digging into the flesh of his arms as you gasped and whined.

“So — ah..! Good… Alastorrr…!”

“Fuck!” he hissed between gritted teeth as your hips bucked, brows knit tight as he shook his head as if to clear a fog. 

You didn’t know he was actually trying to keep something at bay, the additional inch of growth in his antlers lost on you in your current state.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor’s hips stuttered for a moment before muscle memory guided him back to rhythm, desperate to regain the ecstasy that was torn from him. It had been a close call, but he managed to keep the switch from happening. Though the monster inside was still there, clawing at him just below the surface. 

He felt as your hands moved from their place on his triceps (which he had quite enjoyed) to settle on his chest, your fingers delicately tracing his scar. The line wasn’t steady though, perforated by the impact of his thrusts, which you were handling with a surprising welcomeness. 

It was almost…

There it was again, lying in wait; that ravenous, goading shadow roiling inside of him.

Take the risk…

Could he, though? Composing himself was practically second-nature, after all…

Say it!

Alastor exhaled, somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He allowed himself to relish the sound of your cry and the blissed out look on your face, which in turn provided a moment to steel himself before continuing, “I didn’t think you’d be this greedy.”

“Fuuuck…! Alast — oh my god…!”

A fresh wave of your arousal flooded over him as you desperately rolled your hips to meet him, but the intention had been to make you climax — and judging by the way you were spasming around him, you were close. Not drive him to his own at the sight of your glowing eyes, just as they had that day in the alley.

He had miscalculated.

With an agonizing force of will he pulled out of you, harsh breaths straining his lungs as he got off the bed to hastily remove his pants and shoes. He groaned through the ripple of adrenaline that was tearing through him, heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum, the feeling of it causing his hair to stand on edge. Fuck. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off… not this time.

“What’s wrong?” Despite the question, your voice was still so thick with lust that it made his back hunch over.

It was taking all he had not to wrap his arms around himself in what he knew would be a useless attempt at containment. Even breathing was painful. The air saturated with the smell of sweat and sex and Valentino’s goddamn pheromones!

I really am going to kill that son of a bitch!

“Alastor…?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Burning at the stake.

It had been a good way to put it.

He had been burning you alive before dousing you with ice.

What had gotten into him? What had gotten into you? No one had ever said something like that to you before and received anything but a slap in the face. Greedy… The word made your heart stutter, some of the blood from the lower half of your body traveling back up to your face. Was it true? 

Embarrassment was beginning to sober you up. Had you gone too far? It seemed strange that you had, considering the words came from his mouth and not yours. Fuck, all of this had started because of him. How else had he wanted you to react? Or was he ashamed of himself? 

Was he regretting this already? 

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as his back arched up like a spooked cat, the force of his breathing revealing the ribs and notches of spine under the skin. He looked like he was in pain… Maybe the scar on his chest wasn’t as healed as it seemed? You climbed off the bed and made a timid approach.

“Alastor…?” 

He flinched at the touch of your hand with a hiss, the shock of his reaction making you trip over yourself and fall back onto the bed. He kept his back to you when he spoke next, the absence of his filter making you shiver in pleasure and worry.

“You remember what I told you earlier, yes?”

I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.

How could you not remember that? 

“I do,” you answered, just above a whisper.

He straightened himself then, still turned away from you and managing to look regal despite his trembling. “I need you on all fours… and you must promise not to turn around. Do you understand?”

It was a question that didn’t leave room for any response other than yes. So you just positioned yourself on the bed, facing your headboard and gathered the pillows there underneath you for support. You had just finished settling when you felt his weight dip the mattress behind you, heart in your throat as he ran his nails down your spine before slipping his fingers into you.

You both sighed as he pumped you, filling the room with that familiar lewd sound between breaths. Stoking the embers of your stolen orgasm with every drag, until he removed them completely. You whined at his absence, the tightness in your belly teetering somewhere between pleasure and pain as you heard him shudder through stroking himself. His free hand resting now on your hip.

“Don’t get comfortable. If you cum facing away from me I’ll never touch you again.” His voice was tight with effort, the filter over it harsh and pocketed as he adjusted himself behind you, the grip of his hand on your left hip promising to bruise. 

To your shame, the threat alone almost made you, a graceless moan tumbling out from your chest as you barely managed to nod your head in confirmation; your cunt flexing around the words echoing in your mind. The obscene sight of it drew out a sound from Alastor that could only be described as animalistic, earning the plump skin of your hip a few punctures as he thrust into you, bottoming out.

It was a brutal pace, his cock nearly leaving you with every thrust before plunging back in. He still had one hand on your hip while the other grabbed your shoulder, the slapping sound of your skin meeting quickly overpowering the gasps and moans falling from your mouths.

“Haahhh… nnghh…! …fuck!”

“Alastor…”

You felt him twitch inside of you at the sound of this name before he practically shouted, “Again…!”

The blush burned down from your face into your chest, but you complied and whined his name again. And again. Until it seemed to be the only word you knew.

“Ohhh, fuuuck…,” he hissed, followed quickly by a snarl.

You could’ve sworn you heard fabric tearing before a green glow reflected off the lacquered wood of your headboard. Alastor’s huge silhouette taking shape as it intensified; invoking the image of a nightmarish spider more than the deer demon you knew. You closed your eyes and buried your face in the pillows you had gathered, refusing to turn around despite your instinct to do so. And even through the fear, you still felt your orgasm building, the battle to keep it at bay quickly turning against your favor. 

“Alastor… I… I can’t… I—”

The words were stolen as he suddenly bit into your shoulder, his mouth so wide you felt his teeth sink in from shoulder blade to collarbone. You screamed into the pillows as his hips stuttered, until there was a final thrust so deep it would have pained you if it weren’t for your throbbing shoulder. His seed spilled out hot and thick, fueling the aching fullness inside you as he grunted into your flesh; teeth still latched to you as if making a primal claim.

Hot tears fell down your face as he rode out his orgasm behind you, unsure if they were caused by the savage bite to your bruised shoulder or lament over the deprivation of seeing his face. But you had done as you were told, managing not to turn around or climax. The bite he was now nursing with licks and sucks and kisses providing plenty of distraction.

Almost too much…

As he tried to catch his breath, you could feel him shrinking behind you as he pulled out, his slick torso laying flat against your back as he lapped up the blood dribbling from the bite. And in between his kisses that traveled from your shoulder to your tear-stained face, his hands were petting you with such a tenderness it only wrought more tears. 

His soothing whispers of shhh, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, I’m sorry ringing in your ears as he brought you to lie down, cradling you to him as he caressed your face with his hands that inflicted such pain and comfort… protection.

For what seemed like hours, the two of you laid in silence, looking into each other’s eyes as his thumb stroked your cheek. Until finally you buried your face into his chest, hands over his heart.

And slipped into shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: phew! we fucking made it y’all… i truly hope it was worth the wait. but i do want to announce here that i will be taking a little break. i know this one was already late, but it kinda took a piece of my soul lmao since we only have two more chapters i need to make sure i have all my ducks lined up to wrap this with a pretty little bow. thank you for your patience and love, i really do appreciate you. and i’ll see you on may 5th 💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmic-lavender

[tsumuus]

lil something about bakugou with a sick!reader since i got a cold rn

The soft murmur of rain outside your dorm window blurred into the background as you sat cocooned in your blanket, throat sore and head pounding. You'd been stuck here for days now, a cold rendering you useless. As much as you wanted to get back to normal life, every movement felt like wading through mud.

The door to your dorm creaked open, and you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. You could feel the shift in the air, that familiar presence filling the room. Katsuki Bakugou stood in the doorway, his expression gruff, but his eyes gave away the concern he’d been holding in.

“How’s the patient?” he grumbled, stepping inside and shutting the door with his foot, holding a bag of takeout in one hand. His usual confident stride slowed a little as he took in the sight of you huddled on your bed.

You managed a weak smile, your voice scratchy. “Still dying, but at least you showed up.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but you caught the flicker of worry that crossed his features. He set the takeout down on your desk, his hand brushing your forehead to check for a fever. “You’re still warm, but not as bad as yesterday.”

He pulled out a small container of soup from the bag, something you knew he wouldn’t have picked on his own. It wasn’t even your usual kind either—it was the one he always pretended was too “bland” whenever you ordered it. But here it was, like he’d spent time making sure he’d gotten exactly what you would want.

“I didn’t know you could be so thoughtful,” you teased, your voice hoarse.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he opened the container and placed it in front of you. He helped adjust the pillows behind your back, his movements a little rough, but careful in his own way. “I just don’t want you whining later that I didn’t take care of you.”

You managed a small laugh that turned into a cough. Bakugou’s brow furrowed as he passed you a glass of water, watching you drink with that familiar intensity he always had.

“Stop laughing if you’re gonna choke,” he huffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. But the usual bite in his tone was missing, replaced by something softer. His hand brushed against yours as he took the empty glass from you, his touch lingering for a moment longer than usual.

There was a silence that settled between you both, one that was comfortable despite your current state. Bakugou leaned back against the wall next to the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the rain outside. You could see the gears turning in his head, like he was trying to figure out what else he could do to make you feel better, even though he didn’t say it out loud.

“Thanks for coming over,” you whispered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. You glanced at him, your gaze softening. “I know you’re busy with training and everything.”

Bakugou scoffed, but his eyes softened as he looked at you. “Like I’d let you sit here alone feeling like crap,” he muttered. “Who else is gonna make sure you actually rest?”

You smiled at that, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with your fever. Bakugou had always been like this—rough around the edges, but in moments like these, you could see how much he truly cared. He didn’t need to say it. The fact that he was here, sitting in your cramped dorm room while the rest of the world carried on without him, said everything.

“Eat the damn soup,” he ordered, but there was no harshness in his voice. He reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness. “And stop worrying about me. I’ve got it covered.”

You smiled softly, feeling a little more at ease despite the fog of illness still weighing you down. You leaned into his hand for a second before picking up the spoon and beginning to eat. It wasn’t the best, but it was exactly what you needed in that moment—simple and comforting.

Bakugou stayed with you the rest of the evening, even as you dozed off now and then. He didn’t leave, not once, occasionally checking your temperature and adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. When you woke up to the sound of rain still tapping against the window, he was there, sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, keeping watch over you like he always did, in his own way.

For all his sharp edges and explosive temper, Bakugou knew how to care. He wouldn’t admit it, but you didn’t need him to. You already knew.

masterlist

[ovaryacted]

Really random but dad bod DI Leon🤤🤤🤤 (I really love DI Leon if you couldn’t tell) like I love Leon w abs, and his hourglass shape but just him cuddling w you and being so warm and soft😢 (or when y’all are making love and his tummy just has us fitting together like puzzle pieces and it’s LIKE OMGMGM😭😭😭😭😭)

-🐏

cw: descriptions of body changes, internalized fatphobia, smutty thoughts/acts.

OHHHHHH DAD BOD LEON IS MY VICE PLEASE OH MY FUCKING GOD. LIKE RAHHHH, I NEED IT BAD. Ram anon, I'm on to you.

The changes happen after a year into his forced retirement, he doesn't realize it until he becomes more aware of the way your arms feel wrapping around his soft torso. Once adorned with hard muscle, his body now was covered in a layer of skin that expanded over time. He still had the same physique and the same capacity for strength, but there was an added softness he’d acquired recently that sent his head in for a spin.

Retirement has been good for Leon, he no longer has to deal with the hecticness of mission briefings and assignments. He gets to actually rest, his usual overactive nervous system now rendered down and becoming more manageable. The first couple of weeks he spent falling asleep in bed or on the couch, like his body was playing catchup on the energy that's been robbed from him over the years. You didn’t bother him about it, didn’t even judge him whenever you’d find him limp on the bed and snoring in the middle of the day.

You'd use that time to run errands or do chores around your shared home, often preparing meals for him whenever he'd wake up groggily to go look for you. Eating homemade meals that were made with love certainly started to add up, the consistent intake of food was new and apparently something that his body liked and needed. The constant nausea he often experienced when he was under so much stress went away, slowly learned how to enjoy eating again like he did years before he was forced to become an agent.

He never focused on his appearance most days, but as Leon stopped to observe himself in the mirror one morning, his eyes were fixated on his body. He's certainly changed after a while, stomach a little fuller and cheeks more plump than before, hell even his arms and thighs looked bigger. His initial reaction to the change would have been disgust, to put himself back on a routine to regain the muscle he's lost and to critique every imperfection that would eventually be another nuisance.

But as he looked at himself a little longer, a smile crept up on his face, not minding what he saw for probably the first time in his life. All he saw was your love for him, how the signs of you taking care of him after all this time were starting to reflect in how he looked. He was healthy, he was alive, and that was a win in his book.

You certainly didn't mind the changes either and took every opportunity to remind Leon of just how much you adored him. Cuddling him whenever you could was something that became a ritual between the two of you, sneaking under his arm and digging your face into his chest any chance you got. He was soft, warm, and just a tad bit squishy. He was human, he was himself, not some war machine meant to work like a dog day and night.

One of your favorite things about his new appearance was the intimate moments you both shared and how he felt around you both internally and externally. You loved getting on your knees and worshipping him, sucking over his cock lavishly and running your hands over his thick thighs, biting at them when Leon found himself lost in pleasure.

Or when you were riding him and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours was louder than before, his lower tummy rubbing into you, meshing together so well one would think you were part of the same whole. It made you feral, like a primal instinct to claim him and show him that all you wanted was to make him feel accepted in this new body. Leon didn't complain, he loved how your attraction to him seemed to skyrocket.

Maybe being a bit more soft wasn't so bad after all.

[blitzyn]

welcome home

leon s. kennedy x ftm!reader

request: Is it possible for you to do a Leon Kennedy x ftm reader where Leon's been away for months and it's just sweet sex? Maybe a hint of cockwarming(Leon falling asleep while still inside), loads of praise and just in general body worship stuff! - Anonymous

synopsis: leon comes back home after being months away for a mission and he's eager to feel you again

a/n -> this was actually my first time writing cunnilingus i was STRUGGLING but all in all this was exciting to do i had fun. anyways alhaitham next i haven't done him in a while. ALSO. IM SORRY I KEEP CHANGING THEMES AND USERS 💔

wc -> 2.4k

cw -> cunnilingus, fingering, praise, p in v sex, cockwarming, ftm reader - use of the word 'pussy' and 'cunt' for reader's genitalia, brief description of top surgery scars, soft leon (heart eyes), not beta read

It was silent when Leon finally made his way back home, the soft moonlight shone brightly, as if treading a path for him.

He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of your body in his arms as he held you tightly, to smell the scent of your hair, and to hear the sound of your laughter that sent butterflies to his stomach no matter how many times he's heard it.

His keys jangled loudly in the silent night as he unlocked the front door, swiftly entering the house to make his way upstairs. He knew you were asleep since the lights weren't on, as made evident by your figure covered in blankets. Slowly, he made his way closer before sitting on his side of the bed, creating a dip in the mattress. Gently, tenderly, he reached out and shook your shoulder, chuckling softly at the sight of you taking a moment to stare at him.

Your drowsy eyes lit up in instant recognition as you sat up eagerly to take him in your arms in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again, [Name]," he said, burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Leon," you said, relief flooding through your veins, grateful to see him home. Reluctantly, you pulled away, watching the way his eyes darted all across your face to take in your features. "You've been gone for so long. I was so worried you'd..."

"I know, sweetheart," he muttered, cupping your cheeks to gently rub them with his thumbs. "And I'm sorry for that."

You nodded, holding onto his wrists. He took a second to gaze into your eyes before he pressed his lips against yours, cherishing the way they melded together with practiced ease. You sighed contentedly, leaning into him to deepen the kiss.

In need of air, you moved back, only for Leon to follow after you, refusing to take his lips off of you just yet.

"Hey—Leon!" You laughed, trying to tilt your head away from his onslaught of kisses. "I still need to breathe."

"Your lungs can wait," he jokingly said, chasing after your lips. You leaned back far enough to lie down, rendering you unable to resist his affection any longer. Not that you wanted to, anyway. Soon enough, he found himself on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face—on your forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and lips before moving downward towards your neck.

At first, they were innocent, but when he tilted his head and sucked on the piece of flesh that pulled a moan from you, you knew then that neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight.

"Leon," you gasped out, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. "You just got back... Aren't you tired?"

"Honestly, yeah," he admitted, sliding his hands over your shirt to caress your waist. "But I'll be fine," he muttered against the column of your throat, pressing his lips to it for a chaste kiss before sitting up.

"The question is, are you tired?" He asked, scanning your expression for any lies you might've tried to hide. "I don't wanna push you."

You shook your head reassuringly despite having woken up not too long ago. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

He let out an amused huff through his nose, the corners of his lips quirking up in a smirk. "No promises." He gently tugged on your shirt in a silent request to take it off, swiftly pulling it up and over your head as soon as you nodded.

"Christ, Leon, your hands are cold!" You let out a surprised yelp, arching your back in a futile attempt to get away. He only laughed, sliding his hands all over your stomach mercilessly to use your body heat to warm them up until you finally relaxed.

He leaned down again, gently biting on a spot over your collarbone as he ran his tongue over it soothingly. He moved again, kissing a trail down your sternum until he took one of your perky nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You bit your lip, watching him toy with your chest, running his fingertips along your scars. A heat pooled in your stomach as he slid lower, finding himself slotted between your legs. He watched your face intently, burying his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants to slowly pull them off upon finding no disapproval from you, his breath hitching at the sight of your cunt.

"Fuck..." He whispered, blowing a teasing puff of air onto your clit, lips quirking up when you shivered. "Missed you and this pretty pussy," he groaned, hiking your thighs up and over his shoulders. Electricity shot down your spine when he looked up at you and gave it a quick kiss before encasing his lips around it, sucking gently.

You sighed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response, curling his arms around your thighs to keep your legs open, squeezing the swell of them with his calloused hands. He moved down to give your pussy a long lick from your hole all the way back up to your clit and down again, savoring the taste of your juices on his tongue. He looked up through his lashes to gauge your reaction, feeling his cock throb in his pants as he softly ground his hips against the mattress.

You let out a moan when he pressed his face firmly against your cunt, eagerly sucking and flicking his tongue up and down your clit. Pressing your heels against his back, you rocked your hips, tightening your hold on his hair as you tugged on the strands.

He let go of one of your thighs, pressing two of his fingers against your hole, swiping upwards to gather some of your wetness before pushing them inside, groaning against your nub when you clenched around them. He curled them, searching for that one spot inside you that'll have you cumming in no time.

A subtle grin lifted his face when he saw you jerk, legs twitching, before diving back down to your clit. He was gentle but relentless at the same time—a blend that had you reeling for more.

"Fuck, Leon," you moaned, squirming. Your belly heaved as you looked down with half-lidded eyes, meeting his.

"That's it, baby," he muttered against your skin, giving it a harsh suck. "Moan my name just like that."

He pulled away slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices as he raised his free arm to drape it across your hip and inner thigh. The fingers inside you stopped, pressing against your G-spot while his other hand spread your pussy lips. Leaning over your crotch, he spat on your swollen clit before rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb. You shuddered, tightening around his fingers as his saliva mixed in with your fluids.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, licking his lips. He began moving his hand again as he stared up at you with heat evident in his eyes, watching you toss your head back in ecstasy. "I could stay here for hours."

He curled and crooked his fingers, listening to the sounds of your sopping pussy around him, squeezing and trying to suck him back in whenever he moved away. "You're so wet f'me... This how much you missed me?"

"Uh-huh." You groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. Your cunt throbbed—you were sure he could feel it—with the need to cum, legs writhing just a little bit more. You bit your lip, whining and gasping as you tensed, inadvertently trying to close your thighs around his head.

"No, don't do that," he said, taking his hand off your pulsing clit to hold one thigh open while his tricep kept your other one down. His arm ran across your lower abdomen, gently bobbing up and down with every labored breath you took. "Keep your legs open... Let me watch you cum 'round my fingers."

You could only nod, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. You whined when he latched back onto your sensitive clit, flicking his tongue up and down, eager to make you orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he muttered, giving your nub a firm suck. "You're so close... C'mon, give it to me." He groaned, grinding harder against the mattress as he moved faster, pushed deeper, until finally, you came around him with a loud moan.

"There we go..." He nearly came in his pants as he curled his fingers into the special spot inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. "You did so good, sweetheart. Missed watching you do that for me." Sighing, he sat back up and pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean, staring straight into your eyes.

With a grunt, he flopped beside you, turning your body so your back was flush against his chest as he ran his hands along the side of your thigh. His painfully hard cock was pressed against your ass, grinding against you leisurely.

"You wanna go all the way?" He questioned against your ear, his hot breath fanning against the shell of it to bring shivers down your spine. Even when the throbbing between your legs hadn't subsided yet, you couldn't find the need to decline.

"Thanks, baby," he said. You could hear the faint smile in his voice as he shifted around behind you, listening to the sound of rustling fabric and the jangling of his belt buckle. He tossed his pants to the floor haphazardly before swiftly pulling his cock out of his boxers. It throbbed fervently, leaking with precum and leaving your skin slick when he dragged it along the inside of your thighs.

He grit his teeth as he rubbed the shaft of his dick against your pussy, mouthing at the back of your neck before he slowly pushed his way inside you again. The two of you let out satisfied noises, savoring the way he stretched you out so perfectly.

"You're so tight..." his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "You were made to take my cock like this, huh?"

"Mhm," you signed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Couldn't touch myself without you here."

"Poor boy," Leon teased breathlessly, snaking an arm under you to toy with your nipples, ghosting the tips of his fingers along your top surgery scars every so often. His free hand moved down to rest on your belly, gently pressing down to feel himself thrusting inside you. It was far too late at night to do anything intensive, but both of you were satisfied with just soaking in each other's presence. He held you close to him, whispering those sweet words that you've been aching to hear ever since he had to leave for his mission.

He was already on the verge of cumming just by eating you out, and it was no secret to either of you with the way he twitched and throbbed. He spent countless nights fucking his fist trying to imagine it was you, but his calloused hand could never compare to your soft and warm cunt.

"Fuuuck..." Leon drawled out, fucking you a bit faster. "I'm so close..."

"Already?" You laughed quietly, hissing when he pulled about halfway only to ram himself back inside in response before resuming his relaxed pace. "Okay! Sorry, sorry."

You bit your lip and let out a pleased sound when his free hand shifted itself to pat your clit before massaging it, lifting your own arm back to run your fingers through his hair again. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately. You moaned into his mouth when your sensitivity from earlier began pooling in your abdomen again, earning a beautiful groan from the man behind you when you tightened reflexively.

Breaking away, you lazily pushed against him in sync with his thrusts, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when you could feel the heat burning brighter in your stomach.

"Fuck... That's it, sweetheart," he panted, tugging you closer, fucking you just a bit harder. "Cum for me again. Please, pretty boy, I wanna feel you cum." He rubbed your clit with just the right amount of pressure, brushing up against your G-spot with every thrust. He sucked and licked and kissed the skin of your neck, littering it with hickeys and shallow bites.

"Shit, Leon, 'm gonna... gonna cum again," you gasped, your hips jerking. You could feel him nod in response, but he was in no rush to get you to orgasm. He maintained the pace until he felt you squeeze tight around him and let out a loud moan, your body tensing and convulsing for a moment. The sight and feeling of you cumming sent him right over the edge as he swiftly pulled out with a wet squelch, pressing your thighs around his slick cock to fuck the plush flesh.

With an audible groan, milky white ropes of cum spurt out of the tip of his cock, landing on your skin and the bedsheets in front of you. He pressed himself flush against your body until his cock stopped throbbing and jerking before finally relaxing with a satisfied sigh.

"That was so good, [Name]," Leon praised, nuzzling into the back of your neck. "You did amazing. Like always."

"I know," you responded swiftly, feigning arrogance. But you could hardly keep up the facade, softly laughing at yourself. "But you did amazing, too."

"I know," he parroted playfully, giving you a quick kiss to the nape of your neck when he suddenly shifted to push his softening cock back inside your hole. He caressed you reassuringly when he felt you tense, explaining that he wasn't going to move. Not too much, at least.

"Now go back to sleep," he instructed, exhaustion taking root in his voice as he pulled the covers over your spent bodies. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace, listening to the sound of your soft breathing. "We'll clean up tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes with an exasperated huff through your nose. "Fine." Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling your body relax. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

cross-posted on ao3

[norrizzandpia]

Lacy (Part 2) (Lando’s Ending)

Summary: In which the two soulmates finally get together.

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos at the end, everything’s depressing for a bit

Note: SURPRISE YALL!!!!! I ended up staying home from classes today because I got my period and it hurts so fucking bad 😀 so anyways I took this time to write Lando’s ending and let me tell you THIS EATS so grab the popcorn and the tissues and strap in because this concludes the lacy trilogy 😭

LANDO POV

There’s a specific quiet in the wake of the moment when you realize you had been in love with your best friend for as long as you knew her. It’s a quiet that is not peaceful whatsoever. Rather, it’s a chaotic, loud, and painful quiet which twists your insides and makes you want to smack your head against the nearest wall.

That’s the quiet I experience when Luisinha walks into the room and I find myself wishing it was Y/n.

“We need to break up.” I stutter out, my brain not thinking as it dawns on me the confusion toward the feelings I had for Y/n was anything but that. I never should’ve felt confused because it was right in front of me. My love for her had always been there, lingering in the background as I admired her smile. To think I waited this long and pushed her this far away only to realize I needed her is something indescribable.

Luisinha’s face falls as she sits down beside me on the couch, “What?”

Shaking my head, I look in her eyes, “I’m so sorry, Luisinha, but I think I’m just not ready to be with you right now.”

“Because of her.” Her arms cross over her chest as she tilts her head, “So, when I asked you to choose between me and her, and you chose me, that was… what? Confusion?”

“No, I- It was…” I’m rendered speechless as I try to explain myself, “It was a dick move. I’m sorry. I never should’ve shut her out and I never should’ve treated you the way I did. When you asked me to choose, I hadn’t thought about the fact that she’s always been my best friend and she’s been there for me for longer than you have. This isn’t to say I didn’t love you or adore the time I had with you. It’s just me realizing that I’ve gone so long needing her and that will never change.”

Her somber nodding adds another knife to my heart, the amount tripling by the minute as she takes in another one of my mistakes, “You love her? Be honest this time, Lando. I know I asked you this same question after that night when Max and I found you two close on the Monaco street, but I need to know the truth. No matter how much it hurts. So, tell me. Do you love her?”

Sighing, I come to terms with it all, “Yes, I do. I’m not sure when it happened, but I think it’s always been there.”

“You loved her while you were with me?” Her teary eyes meet mine.

Water wells in my eyes, matching her brokenness, “I’m sorry, Luisinha. Truly, I never knew it for sure until I stopped talking to her after choosing you. If I would’ve known before having met you, I wouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’m regretful of how I handled everything, but I’m not regretful of you. I never will be. I hope you won’t be too.”

She shakes her head, “No, I’m not. It just hurts to know your boyfriend loves someone else and be told it’s not true, that you’re crazy, only to be proven right when he can’t go a second without her.”

I expel a breath, “I’m so shit for this. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

She gets up from the couch, grabbing her bag off the counter and making her way to the door, “I’m not the person you need to make it up to, Lando. You apologized to me, that’s enough. But, Y/n? There’s a lot of groveling needed to fix that fuckup you made.”

—

Walking into the McLaren Garage, I feel hopeful. Hopeful that when I explain the past few months to Y/n, that she’ll understand; hopeful that she’ll let me love her openly; hopeful that she’ll love me again.

The infamous papaya colors comfort me once more as I round the corner, going to the one place I know she’ll be.

Hospitality. Probably making friends with everyone she sees, knowing every soul that catches a glimpse of her is immediately enthralled and obsessed.

Just like I was.

My eyes land on her, in a white sundress that makes my world stop, and a smile graces my face at her laughter. My eyes wander to the person beside her, the one that had conjured the sweet noise out of her, and find Oscar.

My heart drops for a moment, but then plummets to my feet when I see his hand over hers on the table in front of them and her other hand wrapped around his arm as she tips back in her chair, still lost in the laughter. I stop in my tracks, observing their behavior like my life depends on it, trying desperately to figure out the depth of their partnership.

I must be standing for an awkwardly long time because Mark, Oscar’s manager, comes up next to me, a small, pitiful smile on his face as he states, “Weird, yeah? Everyone’s trying to figure out if they’re together or not. Apparently he was the only person she would see after you broke things off with her.”

The air in my lungs renders empty, completely leaving me and the rest of the life left in my body. My eyes dart over them, that comforting hopefulness draining from my being as they continue their conversation like it’s second nature.

I seem to drown in my emotions, not responding to Mark as he nudges me to a secluded corner of a random hallway. His hands on my arms, he dips down to meet me at eye level, “Lando, you need to pull it together. She’s finally getting better, do not ruin that for her. If she sees you fawning over her, that’ll confuse her and all the progress she’s made will go to shit. I’m begging you, do not screw this up.”

My mouth opens and closes as I try to form some sort of sentence, something to describe the crushing pain that has numbed me and taken things from me I never knew could be taken.

“I was going to try and win her back.” I mumble.

He immediately shakes his head, “Absolutely not. If it’s the last thing I say, do not get near her. You cause her unnecessary pain. At least do it for her, Lando. Leave her alone.”

“But, Mark-” I begin, but he’s quick to cut me off.

“No, Lando. Just, no.” At that, he lets go of me and walks off, as if he hadn’t just crushed specific dreams of mine and left them to die a slow death.

Cruelly, in the distance, I hear her laughing again and my heart shatters at my feet.

Knowing she laughs with him now, instead of me?

I will never come back from that.

—

“I tried calling her the other day. She declined it.” Max states, hands running through his hair as he looks at the screen and makes sure we’re muted.

My fingers hover over her contact under the table, but they don’t move to press it, too scared to really know the outcome.

“I do this everyday. It’s torture.”

The chat blows up on the screen as people ask what we’re doin that warrants muting, but both Max and I ignore it.

“Why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she wants closure too.” Max tries.

I shake my head, “She wants closure. I just want her.”

Max rolls his eyes, “So, tell her that.”

“She’s with Oscar!” I exclaim, throwing my hands out and confusing the viewers of our stream even more.

“You don’t know that!” He mirrors my position, both of us staring each other down.

Huffing, I shift back in my chair, turning the microphone back on and effectively ending the conversation.

Max eyes me as he vaguely states, “Lando, you don’t know. We both know you don’t know if that is correct or not. All we know is that they’re friends which they always have been.”

Messages from fans asking who we’re talking about, some getting it perfectly right as they suggest we’re talking about the dating rumors between Oscar and Y/n.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you anymore.” I dish out, tension arising in the room at my aggressive tone.

“Yeah, because we both know I’m right.” He smirks as if my feelings and this situation are entertaining.

“Fuck off, Max. I’m serious.”

Patting my back, he gentles his choice of words, “I know, mate. I know.”

—

MAX F POV

Knocking on her door, I clutch the chocolates in my hand in a death grip. I’m so nervous to see her, nervous that she’ll shut me out and never forgive me.

My mind’s loud and messy as the lock clicks and the wooden slab opens slightly, Y/n’s face peeking through.

When she catches sight of me, her fingers begin to push the door shut again, but my foot is quicker as it wedges in between it.

“Max,” She starts exasperatingly, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”

I nod my head, “I know, I know, but just hear me out, Y/n. You’re my best friend. Please.”

My pleading seems to work as she sighs and then opens her door, gesturing for me to come in. The foyer looks different and I’m not sure why until I realize it's because, whenever I would come over, I would see something of Lando’s strewn on the floor or bench. However, the only papaya I see now is a jacket which has Oscar’s name on it.

She seems to catch what my eyes have landed on, “He’s not here. He forgot that last night.”

My eyebrows rise, looking at her questionably, “Oh?”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t push it, Max.”

Nodding, I follow her further into the house, still feeling weird that Lando’s presence isn’t blaring like it had been months ago. When we reach the kitchen, she sits down on one of the stools, moving the one beside her further out for me to take place in.

“Let’s settle this like adults then, yeah?” She gives a light smile, restoring hope inside me that she’ll give thought to my redemption.

Once I’m settled, I look her in the eyes and recite what I had practiced in the car, “I am so incredibly sorry for not being the true friend I should’ve been during the Lando situation. I should’ve been there for you, should’ve stood up for you and I never should’ve gone along with him and Luisinha pushing you out of the group. There’s only a few things I regret in life and this is absolutely one of them, the worst one by far. You have been nothing, but the greatest person to me ever since Lando introduced us. I should’ve met you with the same behavior, same loyalty, and I always said I would when it was needed, but when the situation arose, I fucking failed you miserably. You never deserved anything that was shoved in your face and I am so sorry I sat on the sidelines, letting it happen. Y/n, I miss you. I miss my best friend and I’m asking you to forgive me because I won’t fucking screw this up again.”

Her tears strike something in me, something protective as I pull her into a hug.

Her tears wet my shirt as she says, “Yeah, I didn’t fucking deserve any of that. You both were so shitty to me. I never did anything to you.”

I nod, running a hand over her back, “I know, I know. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

She pulls away, rubbing away her tears, “It’s not even you that hurt me the most. It’s Lando. I gave him everything and he still threw me to the fucking curb when it was most convienant for him. I hate him so fucking much, Max.”

I know what she says is false because I can see it in her eyes how much she yearns for him to tell her everything they’ve been tiptoeing around their whole lives. I see it in the way she doesn’t seek comfort in me, but in him, and I see it in the way she forgives me so quickly because the love she holds for me will never be as great as the love she will always hold for him.

“You don’t mean that.”

She stands up, frustrated, “Yes, I do!”

Walking over to her and grabbing her wrists, forcing her eyes to meet mine, I said pointedly, “No, you don’t.”

her resolve breaks completely and the tears wrack her body. Falling into me, she cries, “No, I don’t.”

—

LANDO POV

Seeing her standing below the podiums, in the crowd, cheering in her papaya colors is a type of pain I will always remember because I know she isn’t cheering for me.

She’s cheering for the man standing beside me, the man standing on the third place podium with a trophy in his hands as the Australian flag waves on the screen behind him.

P1 should feel better than this, but it proves to feel like absolute shit as the one thing I truly want isn’t even here to support me. The celebration is frantic and quick as I will myself to hold back the tears trying so hard to break free especially when Oscar leans over the railing to smile down at her, waving, as she screams louder, giving him the same smile she had given me multiple times when I was in the same position.

I watch her watch him, her eyes gleaming with pride. It’s hard to see her forget about me, shut out memories of her cheering for me when she probably gets Deja vu as she does the same thing for someone else.

For months, I’ve tried to mold myself into something she would miss, show only parts of myself on social media that would specifically call out to her, but, still, I’ve come up empty.

I’m bitter as we step back into McLaren’s headquarters on the paddock, and when Oscar tries to congratulate me, I dismiss him harshly. Shoving his hand off my shoulder and storming off to my room, wanting quiet, but not the quiet that only holds memories of her and all we could’ve been.

I’m with my thoughts for a few moments until there’s a small knock on my door. Standing up and going to open it, I’m about to tell off whoever has come to disturb my own personal hell, but when I catch a glimpse of her y/h/c hair, I’m quick to shut my mouth.

“I came to congratulate you.” She says, her voice quiet and unassuming.

There are tears in her eyes as she says, “I know we haven’t spoken, but I also know how much your first win means to you. I know how great you're probably feeling and I don’t want to disrupt that, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how proud of you I am.”

My voice quivers as my eyes go blurry, tears building up in them, “You think I feel good? You think I’m happy?”

Her nodding has me shaking my head, “No, Y/n, I’m not. I haven’t been since we stopped talking. This isn’t fun. Seeing you cheer for him, seeing you laugh at his jokes and stay by his side. None of this makes this win what we both thought it would be. This win will only be everything we chalked it up to be if you would listen to what I have to tell you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Lando, you stopped talking to me. You almost told me you loved me and then, the next day, just went fucking silent.”

I nod, “I know and I’m sorry, but she made me choose.”

Her eyes widened, “Luisinha made you choose between us and you chose her? Well, that’s fucking perfect, Lando!”

I shake my head vigorously, “No! Fuck. No, Y/n. That’s not how I meant it to sound.”

She puts her hands on her hips, jutting it out, and, usually, I’d laugh at the sassy pose, but, now, it just makes me want to hold her and kiss her, tell her how much I’ve loved her all this time.

“How’d you mean it to sound then, Lando?”

Groaning, I threw my hands out beside me, “I meant that, yes, I chose her, but after a few days, I realized that was a stupid decision because…” My eyes meet hers as I yell, “Because I fucking love you! I’m in love with you! I always have been. There has never been a time where I didn’t have the overwhelming need to have you be mine and I was just so confused by that feeling that I only realized it when you were gone. I broke up with Luisinha the second I figured my shit out and ever since then I’ve had to endure your happiness with Oscar! I’m so sorry for everything I put you through and the hurt I enabled that you never deserved, but it’s bull-fucking-shit, Y/n. I was going to do everything in my power to win you back and, not just as a friend this time, win you back, so we could finally be what we’ve always wanted to be. But, no! Just when I allowed myself to lean into the feelings I have for you, you got with Oscar and I’ve had to deal with the fact that I lost you to him this whole time. It’s worse than hell, Y/n. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”

Her body visibly tenses, “Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?! Oscar and I aren’t together!”

My mind goes quiet, “What?”

She scoffs, “We were never together! He was helping me get over you! Which proved to be hard because I haven’t yet.”

I shake my head, utter annoyance at my own stupidity, “So, that was never a thing?”

She throws her head back, “Oh my fucking god, Lando, if I didn’t love you, I’d kill you. No, we were never a thing. Oscar was just the one friend I had during the dark part of my life where I tried to move on from you.”

My jaw dropped as I looked at her, my brain trying to form some kind of response, “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

She nods, “Yeah, you fucking should be. You took so long to realize your feelings for me and then took longer because you read into something that always has been and always will be platonic.”

I drop my head down, but it’s moved up when her hands cup my chin and force my eyes to meet hers, “Lan, why’d you make it so complicated?”

Shaking my head, I exhale, “Because my feelings for you are complicated.”

She smiles lightly, “No, they aren’t.”

I mirror her smile, “No, they aren’t. They’re as clear as day. I love you.”

Her giggling restores the life into my body I lost all that time ago, “Say it again,”

Her wish is my command, always, “I love you.”

I continue to say it softly as I lean down, my hands winding around her hips and pulling her into me as I kiss her. Our first kiss seems to be the best one I’ve ever experienced as her touch glides across my neck and my hands grip the skin of her back after having pushed their way under her shirt. It’s soft and slow, representing the love we found between us. When she pulls away, her face millimeters away from mine, she asks, “Does this make your first race win everything you thought it would be?”

I chuckle, kissing her once more before pulling her into my room and shutting the door, “Yes, but I have an idea of how you could make it even better.”

Her eyebrows rise as my hands begin to move her shirt up and off her body, “Yeah?”

Taking in the start of her bare, gorgeous body, I nod slowly, smirking mischievously, “Oh, yeah.”

[springsmile]

the way it is || 2

tw: nsfw, fingering, dubcon that turns into noncon, victim blaming, mentions of self h*rm

[part 1]

whenever he touches you, you focus on the sensation of shredded flesh and that metallic scent entering your windpipe. you inhale it complacently.

heavy petting and apologies, gruff at that, are the new normal. you wonder if they’re sincere, or if they’re ones of remorse. you wouldn’t accept them, either way.

you prefer the basement. the concrete (frigid—leaving you curled into yourself, teeth rattling, arms in a bruising wind around your shins), when your bones would creak with any brisk jerk, eyelids leaden, wondering if keloids would befall the columns on your arms.

instead, beneath you is his arm. and across your torso is another. each chiseled with same strength afforded to your wrists and ankles and throat. they’re heavy. they anchor you to the soft silk of the bedspread, balmy with your sweat. katsuki is impossibly close, breath gliding across your face in gentle huffs. it’s the picture of domesticity. only you know it’s something more uncanny.

sometimes, you long for his brutality. for his unparalleled thew, for the rage so palpable you could taste it, and for the anticipatory furling of your gut. the duality of anxiety was hardly distinguishable anymore. you relish in it, now.

katsuki rouses moments later, his fingers card through your hair, which he took to washing regularly (you couldn’t be trusted to do it alone), and a hum reverberates through his chest and throat.

“how’d you sleep?” he mumbles.

“i didn’t.” you say honestly.

his lips fall into a frown, and you’re unwittingly slotted his chest.

“i’m sorry.” he breathes, and by god, you detest his breath. there’s no odor, but you loathe inhaling it. his fragment of his being lives inside you, even if just for a moment. “nightmares?”

“no. you just fucking disgust me.”

he still has the gall to look crestfallen. he snares his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“besides that. do you need those meds again?”

the ones he would crush in his fist into a fine dust put into your water. and when you caught on, and refused to drink, he’d apply an ungodly amount of pressure on your jaw with one hand, and with the other, pressed it down your throat.

you suppress a visceral shiver. “it’s up to you, katsuki. it always is.”

he’s grown tired of your resignation— but he’s more so afraid of your fragility. are you gone for good? did he decimate you into jagged little remnants? now, he could only gather you in his hands and hold your chest his ear. waiting for the rhythmic thumps.

“it’s not.” he says firmly, and when his hand begins to make way for your face, you brace for contact. his hand falters, and eventually thumbs the unevenness of your skin. “do you want to start taking them again?”

you didn’t want to do this anymore.

was breaking better than being broken?

you enjoyed being thorny, if anything. you liked inflicting pain, however minuscule, with your tongue. but you subconsciously longed to feel something. the hearth of life.

for whatever reason unbeknownst to you, your lips part, and acquiescence follows.

“okay.”

he startles at your agreeableness. a smile succeeds the aforementioned frown. and it almost makes you fucking sick.

he untangles himself from you, and relief overcomes you, stemming from the pit of your stomach.

“want breakfast?”

“yes.”

you’re still startled by the sound of your own voice. what was once ragged and frayed around the edges is now subdued, free of any rasp.

you descend downstairs with a hunch, shoulders skimming the lobes of your ears. you’re now more privy to sound and any movement that invades your peripherals. you can creakily yet effectively maneuver if you deem necessary. though, it’s unlikely you require this astuteness any longer, as katsuki has been rendered to pliancy.

he places precisely two pieces of toast and a banana before you. it’s all you can stomach, having transitioned from soups in the basement to agreeable solids upstairs.

katsuki drags his chair out, and falls onto it. he watches you through half lidded eyes, and despite this apparent lethargy, you’re well acquainted with the fact that he could spring into action at a moment’s notice.

you stand.

there’s not a single thought in your head— not a coherent one, anyway. not one that isn’t incessant. rampant.

you approach katsuki, and gradually, his eyelids sink back. swinging a leg over his lap, you begin to straddle him. his shock encourages you to continue. what, you couldn’t say.

“(y-y/n)?” he chokes weakly.

you say nothing. and from your sides, your hands tremble as they lift, and hold the sides of his face how one would handle china. then, without a second thought, you dive down and kiss him, eyes wide open.

you wanted to feel something. anything. anything would do. you skin could crawl to where you would take anything with a sharp edge to your skin and peel it all off. that was okay. you could handle it. you could handle it.

you could pretend. evoke that pool of desire that would once brew and bubble in your belly.

katsuki makes a sound of shock. and for all of what you’d known of him, you had expected him to reciprocate. after all, before he wanted so badly to be a father. he was ready, he assured. he could get all the diapers and crap.

with newfound dread at the forefront of your senses, you begin to draw back, when hands anchor you in place and his lips finally work against yours.

twitching, your hand surges for his cock, which had sprung into rigidity. thanks to you, he’d suffered a dry period, after all.

“you want my cock, (y/n)?” he husks around your lips. “huh? was all that just you being a brat? were you faking?”

it was refreshing— how his remorse had morphed the second you put out.

“you wanted attention, didn’t you?” he growls, a hand inches up the shirt that hung on your body. it’s his, of course. he kneads your breast. “s’that why you hurt yourself?”

no, no, no, nononononononononoNONONONO.

you don’t speak, your vocal chords had melted together within the buzzing summery heat that emanated from inside of you. sound was dulled into nothing.

seconds later, calloused digits invade the warmth of your dry cunt. katsuki is undeterred. his palm gyrates atop your clit. your lungs inflate instantly.

he starts with a single finger, which he neglected to lubricate, and pumps it steadily. coupled with the motions on your sensitive nub, your pussy leaks hot, glinting juices in no time.

katsuki gives that notorious crooked grin. the one where his eyes narrow, and all his teeth are on display.

“fuuuck, (y/n). look how wet your perfect pussy is getting for me.” he snarls. “you could’ve just asked, baby. i would’ve gladly delivered. didn’t need to be all coy and fuckin’ gloomy.”

tears follow the ring of cream that gathers around his knuckles. the wet squelching, and the curling of his fingers (when he added a second one, you didn’t know) have your chest heaving, mind in overdrive with words flitting around the walls of your brain with the ferocity of atoms in a gaseous state.

do you want to? don’t you want to?

“i love you, (y/n).” katsuki says into your ear. “i’m so glad you realized this is how we’re supposed to be. this is your place.”

bile rises in your throat.

[thewritersofdeceased]

Could you rank the TBP boys ( Ghost crew + Finney ) in a x render type of way , wich who will be more and less faster in proposing to their partner in a future ? Than you for reading, your writing inspires me <]

I’m so glad my writing inspires you!! This was absolutely a blast to write!! ‼️🫶 I did it as headcanons and x reader vibes!! It's a bit easier for me, but I will fix it when I get done with all my requests!! (I promise just pls remind me if I forget :( )

TBP BOYS AND WHO IS MORE OR LESS LIKELY TO PROPOSE IN A FUTURE!

BRUCE YAMADA

out of all the boys, I'd think Bruce would be the first one to propose to his partner!

He'd probably do it at once of his games after his team wins

Like those sappy marriage videos you'd see on your fyp

definitely made it a surprise for months.

Hell, he'd do it with a ring pop if it made you happy

literally asked you if you'd say yes if he married you one day

Silence lingered the field as Bruce and Y/N laid underneath the clouds. On a blanket that the ravenette had brought, a sudden questioned popped out of him. "Hey, Y/N? " He started, earning a hum in response from the other. "Do you think.. if one day in the future would you marry me? Or say yes?" He then asked, sitting up properly to face the other.

"Marriage? I never thought about it." Y/N responded, sitting up slightly, using their arms to hold themself up. It took them a couple seconds, but a smile formed on their face as they thought about it "I mean, yeah. You're sweet, kind, caring. Who wouldn't say yes to marrying you?" They then asked, tilting their head at Bruce.

Of course, Bruce smiled at the answer, nodding his head to it. Then it was official. He'd marry them one day. Whether with a ring pop or with an official ring. One day. He swore.

ROBIN ARELLANO

Robin, out of all the boys, was probably the 2nd one to even think of marriage.

Definetly plans it ahead with Finney or one of the other boys

no way did he plan it all on his own.

He'd be a bi nervous asking you about it, probably fidgeting or something

He knows his family isn't exactly on the richer side, so he's more nervous about getting an actual ring

since he wanted to join the war for his dad, he'd propose to you before he left for war.

Robin sat quietly in the park, tossing what looked like a ball in the air. He'd stole it from Bruce, well, more so found the ball near the baseball fields and claimed it as his own. Y/N Sat besides him, reading whatever sorts of book they had. Though they looked to Robin when hearing the boy speak to them.

"You ever think about marriage?" He'd ask them, no longer tossing the ball in the air and now looking to meet Y/N's eyes. He could see the slight look of confusion on their face, but tilted his head only. The gears were turning slowly in Y/N's mind as they fished for an answer.

Placing their book down into their lap and gently taking a hold of Robin's hands, they'd merely smile. "If this is your way of asking if we'll ever get married in the future, the answer's yes." Now that gave Robin the answer and motivation he needed to even think about the whole ring situation he'd been in.

BILLY SHOWALTER

Bily's a bit iffy on the whole marriage thing, but he'd eventually succumb to it!

He wants it to be perfect when he decides to marry you in the future

He'd try and ask earlier in the day, during one of the days he does his paper routes!

He writes the question down on a sticky note and puts said note in the paper

Look, he's nervous okay? he's trying his best.

Gets Griffin to try and help him out, when that don't work he goes to the others.

Placing his bike down gently on your yard, Billy made his way towards the comforting house you resigned in. He enjoyed it. Rover sat by the bike, waiting patiently as the dirty blonde made his way up to your steps. A small smile was on his face as he eventually knocked on the door, his smile widening more when you opened the door.

"Hey sunshine.” He’d greet. Sunshine was your nickname he’d given you after seeing you in the sunlight, specifically in his mother’s camera. So he stuck with the nickname Sunshine. Going into his bag and grabbing a newspaper, he held it out to you, smile remaining as he spoke again. “Here’s your pape for the day.” He spoke, faking a New York accent. Just for fun!!

He took a couple seconds before he would leave, smiling when he soon realized you had read exactly what he'd written on the sticky note. "Of course I'll marry you, Moonlight." You two were basically the sun and moon, and Billy knew exactly what kind of rings to get you two.

FINNEY BLAKE

Finney's a bit more cautious to get married, but he really wants to

He's just super nervous about it and doesn't know the exact way to approach

He tries to use anything you've told him to his advantage

He's one of the boys who has to read off of something, he's that shaky and nervous.

But when it comes to asking you about it during childhood, he asks you in the confinement of his room

You and Finney were currently sitting together in his bedroom, doing different homework for different classes. He was doing work for science, you were doing work for {subject}. Out of nowhere, in what sounded like a shaky tone, Finney spoke up. "Y/N? If we're still together in the future, and I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"

The question was sudden, but it made a small smile form on Y/N's face as they placed their pencil down and sat up properly to look at Finney. "Yes. Yes I would." They spoke softly, reassuring the brunette boy. Of course he was nervous, gently taking their parents hands into their own.

"Of course I'd marry you."

GRIFFIN STAGG

Griffin's seen what marriage can do to a person.

So he's actually really fucking nervous to marry anyone,

He doesn't want it to end up like his parents marriage so he's super cautious to even think about marriage

Though he uses words in books to ask you if you would one day

you just gotta give him the time to not be so nervous and think about it

The library was you and Griffin's favorite place to go, or the cafe just outside of Denver. Anyone who knew Griffin knew how much the kid loved to read. In his hands now was a normal sized book. It was paperback, not being hardcover. The name of the book was "Blackmoore", the artist being "Julianne Donaldson". He had a calm look on his face as you read whatever you had chosen to grab, whether it was horror, drama, romance, etc.

After a couple seconds, Griffin gently tapped the table, trying to get y/n attention, and when he did, he slid the book over, his index finger pointing to what he wanted y/n to pay attention to. A quote stated, "“You are brave and loyal and true. You have such a good heart." He held my hand close to his chest and covered it with his other hand. "It is only afraid. But I would take such good care of it, love, if you would give it to me."

Just seeing how he was hinting about something including marriage, it made y/n chuckle as they watched Griffin mess with his hands. Gently tapping the table and catching Griffin's attention, Y/N would sign(ASL) "I'd marry you if it meant you were always smiling."

VANCE HOPPER

Vance saw what marriage did to his parents, so he's not really excited to think about it

His parents aren't even divorced yet, but he still is nervous

He doesn't want his marriage to end up like his parents

he also doesn't trust his parents to show up if they ever got married

asks you while at the grab n'go

"Hey, babe." Vance was first to speak, even if all of his attention was focused on the pinball machine he'd love. A soft hum escaped Y/N as they looked at Vance, their brow raised and head tilted. "If I beat my high-score, you think one day you'd marry me?" He questioned.

Which resulted in soft chuckles escaping Y/N. They weren't laughing at Vance, no. They were laughing at the fact Vance was willing his high score for it. A soft hum escaped before they answered the blonde's question.

"If you can beat it by the time we're adults, babe." They replied, letting out even more soft laughs and nodding their head. "Then yeah, if you can, I'll say yes."

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wearin’ that loved on look

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which a drawn out engagement leaves honey takin’ matters into her own hands. benny may or may not break a rule or two, actin’ married sooner rather than later when seeing his honey wearin’ that loved on look ;)

warnings: 18 + only. alluded sexual content but nothing super crazy. quite more poetic actually. they are pretty much pining over each other. no actual smut here but i may write a part 2 if requested or interest ensues.

word count: 4.2k

main hive 🐝

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were taking one last look in the mirror when that familiar sound of a rumbling engine echoed out on the street near your front lawn. Your stomach couldn’t help but twist up in a tight knot, your reflection staring back at you, confirming there was no turning back now. Your man was here. He was right outside, and it’d be cruel to make him wait a minute longer. Would it? Or would it be just the right thing. Sixty seconds to settle yourself. Sixty seconds to render your composure and pique his interest simultaneously.

All good things come to those who wait after all.

So you took your time – well as much time as you would allow yourself. Stepping over a lone shoe missing its match and an overall or two, you made your way over to the window to let your man know you’d be out in just a minute. On a night like this, you knew he’d keep the engine running, Itching to get to the club. Itching to get you out of your parents’ hair. Not wanting to waste a single second he could be spending with just you. So, it was only fair when you rolled up the window and hollered his name over the not-so quiet street. The sound of his engine was noisy enough to mask out the hinges of the old window panes attached to your house.

Not wanting to give too much away, you ducked ever-so swiftly as Benny’s head turned in the direction of your sweet voice. Once his eyes landed on you, all he could see was your small head, a mound of honey dewdrop curls planted up on your head like your own personal hive. And then you were holding up a finger, silently telling him to hold on for just a minute, and he of course was complying – still with a sliver of hesitance though. It was unlike you to leave him waiting. Especially on a night like this. A night that didn’t require hitting the hay early for rising school hours. No – it was a Friday night. An oddly warm and buggy Friday night, relevant over the sudden silence of his engine succumbing to the buzzing cicadas.

Mounting off his bike, he settled into a casual lean against it instead. However, his cool demeanor did not match the tumbleweed of thoughts rolling inside his head.

Were your Ma and Pa holding you back? Would they come out to talk to him? Were they finally gonna rip off the bandage and take away the blessing of marrying you he’d been working so hard to maintain?

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a much needed breath before fishing for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The urge for a smoke was unbearable and warranted, so much so, that when he lit the thing up, took a look around, and really settled with his thoughts, his concerns didn’t feel as daunting as they once were. Upon inspection, your driveway was vacant, empty – confirming that one or both of your parents had to be out on the town or out of it completely. It wasn’t unusual for them to trek to another state for a festival where honey sales were of great interest, and on top of that, well – you didn’t look upset by any means. That had to be a plus there. Could it? He couldn’t recall your smile meeting your eyes through the warm honey light shining from your childhood bedroom against the deep dark night….

He was just about to take another drag when the hinges of your front door squeaked in protest, your silhouetted figure crisp against the hall lamp light. Right before you were about to close the front door completely, you peeked your head back inside, practically cursing yourself as you smacked on the front porch light.

Welp – there was truly no turning back now. Your one minute time stamp was long gone. The hair tie, that you’d already regretted taking out of your hair, was haphazardly tossed on your vanity, and the searing porch light was now burning you like a spot light. The show had begun, and boy were you giving your Benny a show.

He blinked. Once, twice, maybe three times? He wasn’t sure. Hell – how could he keep count when he was looking at you. You – his fiance, top snug in a new denim vest, decked out in patches galore, and bottom – god your bottom – in a matching mini skirt, your smooth honey tanned legs on full display. With your hair scooped down, tossed messily in a side parted wave and your form lacking its usual layers of clothes, his eyes rounded out, jaw slackened, and his pants – well they started to feel real tight around him.

Little did he know you were nervous. Real nervous to come towards him. To be out in such an outfit that was so unlike you. Sure you were known for your signature denim and fun patches, but not like this. Not out of your more appropriate school clothes that consisted of long skirts and dresses, and of course your usual overalls. And hey – there was no denying that you wore shorts every now and then on your days off. The Chicago heat was no joke on those dense warm summer days. Yet there was nothing sunny about tonight, no – not in this darkness where you felt in competition with the moon.

As you walked towards Benny, you couldn’t help but pull your skirt down ever-so slightly, the barely there length making you rather uncomfortable and out of sorts. You could only hope you weren’t mooning your house, let alone your neighbors. The last thing you needed were your parents finding out you left the house with your ass out.

Funnily enough, your worry slipped your mind the moment your eyes landed on Benny. Eyes alight, he looked like a lost puppy, begging for a treat. So much so, that the cigarette dangling between his teeth lost purchase. His jaw so slack from shock, the cylinder tipped right out of his mouth and hit the pavement. You almost laughed. You really almost did, but you bit down on your lip before it could escape you.

You were relieved to say the least, and his reaction alone reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. It wasn’t because you were fishing for his attention. You always had it. Hell – you had him wrapped around your little finger, even if you were too humble and sometimes clueless to really think so.

But here, now – there was a difference. A difference because you were not only trying to reward him for being so good to you, but also because you wanted a little something more from him. Of course you just loved being his fiance, but waiting to get married was taking such a toll on you. You wanted to be his wife sooner rather than later, and it was no help at all that your parents were being sticklers in the matter. Practically ruining your plans of getting hitched anytime soon. It was all this and that of them wanting Benny to prove himself. To show himself worthy to your parents that he would be a good fit for their daughter. You thought it was all rather counter productive. Benny had shown himself worthy to you in many ways, and there was no denying that it perturbed you that your parents didn’t trust your judgment. You were a big girl, a fully grown adult, a whole school teacher, and yet they still treated you like you were a little one.

You didn’t want to be treated like that tonight. No – you wanted to be treated like a wife. His wife.

Benny was in the midst of reaching down for his fallen cigarette, too lovestruck and drunk off your presence to realize it was long gone and better off forgotten. Funnily enough, his peripheral vision was still trained on you, making you realize sooner than later that upon straightening back out, he’d have the perfect view under your skirt. The thought made you blush all over, warming up your insides.

Before his lean fingers could snag the thing, your wedged denim sandal found purchase on the discarded cylinder, the fire burning out as your foot stomped on it. “S’dirty.” You reasoned, those pretty sky blue eyes of his boring up at you in a way that kind-of reminded you of the little school children you worked with. There was an innocence there. One that was only reserved for you, hidden beneath a tough rounded out exterior apparent to everyone else. Yet, it wasn’t all innocent. No — not in the way his features twisted up in desire.

For a second you almost thought he was gonna take you right there and then, a nosedive right up your skirt that you wouldn’t deny. But no — instead you were left wanting, aching as he straightened himself back up, warm calloused fingertips brushing against the small remnants of exposed skin between your vest and skirt, hands materializing at your hips and pulling you in.

“Honey….” He drawled, a fun little whistle rather detached from his usual deep tuned voice spurring out of him. “Wha’ I do to deserve this?” He mused, planting kisses across your neck, erupting you in giggles. “Hm?” He pressed, squeezing your sides sweetly.

In your defense, who could blame you for being tongue tied when he was all over you? Pillowy lips snagging the delicate skin of your neck, soft and sweet. “Is tha’ even a question?” You giggled again as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“M’serious…” he murmured into your skin, stifling the growl that was bound to escape him. “S’there a special occasion I dunno ‘bout?” He tried again, but suddenly stiffened. Lips detached from your skin, as well as his warm breath. An indication that he was holding it in. “S’not our anniversary is it? I swore it wasn’t until — fuck, m’sorry Honey did I —“ his words caught in his throat, tangled in a web of self inflicted doubt, and you hated it. Hated seeing him like this, thinking he had done something wrong. Fucked up somehow. But you were quick — so quick in assessing the situation, your hands, fingernails decked out in your usual color of choice — ballet slippers — and Benny’s ring, still snug on your honorary finger since your engagement, circled around his face.

It took him a moment, but his scruffy cheeks relaxed against your palms in an instant when your eyes met his in alarm. “No, baby. Nah. Ain’t an anniversary or nothin’. Just wanted to show y’my love. That’s all.” His pinched brows smoothed out, and you smiled as you watched the worry flee his eyes. “Betty er —“ you began rather shyly, “she uh gave me one of her old vests, y’see?” You explained, dropping your hands from his face and onto the clothing in question. “Johnny’s got her a new one, so she said I could have hers. Deck it out. Do what I wanna with it. So….” You turned on your heel, spinning in a quick circle before sing-songing a, “ta-da!” like you’d do for your students when you had some sort of surprise or good news. Usually it’d be a lollipop for each after an exam. A congratulatory treat for completing such a task!

Your nerves were still running on a high, but you flashed Benny one of your grand smiles as you striked a little pose, jazz hands included.

When it hit you what you were doing, you mentally wanted to curse yourself out for putting on such a childish act. This was all about acting like a wife, not a child! You wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him, but what kind of motives were this?

Thankfully, your mental battle didn’t last very long. It ended quite quickly the moment his mouth opened and drawled, “Hmm….C’mere. Lemme take a closer look at ya.”

You obliged without question. Without resistance. Without any sort of hesitation. His voice always tickled you to the bone, but this — this! This was something else entirely. Something that sent honey down below in deep measure. So you stepped forward, becoming caged by his observation in an instant. His hands materialized on your hips against the rough denim of your skirt all over again. It was like he was scared you’d walk away before he’d get to really look at the art in front of him, and god were you just a whole masterpiece.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to do as such, but you couldn’t help but watch him as he drank you in from head to toe. His eyes wandered over every patch, and it made your cheeks burn when he spent extra time on the ones that really resembled you. There were the cute little bedazzled bees and a jar of honey of course, but also an apple as a little ode to your teacher status. You stitched some extra flowers you had leftover from when you were sewing patches onto your denim overall dress from school. The one you met Benny in the very first day you saw him.

“Baby….” he hummed in complete approval. “Ya real talented, y’know that? S’good. Too —“ But then his words cut out in the midst of complimenting you, and you knew he finally saw it. The patch that was just the beginning to what the back claimed, but held so much more commitment. More devotion even. In the front, on the left upper side of the vest right over your heart was a patch, shaped in such a way — a heart to be exact — with the words Benny’s Baby stitched right into it. “Wha — What’s this?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach then, worry shooting through your veins as you scrambled to complete your next sentence. “S’just a — a lil’ something. I know you were uh — real hell bent about the ring thing. Getting me a proper one or whatever so…” you trail off, nudging your purse from your shoulder so you could open up it and reveal the contents of your explanation. Benny just stared, watched you like some fascinated kid about to be gifted a candy cigarette for the first time as you took out the matching patch you made for him. One that was more daring, more forward, and far more a symbol of ownership than anything you had on yours, as far as you were concerned. “I uh — I made you one too,” you tumbled out, hands shaking as you held it out for him to see. A similar heart. Rather exact to yours. The catch? It said Honey’s Hubby in your pretty neat stitched cursive. “And look, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t wanna. I know it’s kind of silly and all, but I just thought it could be our thang, y’know? Our promise to each other but again if that’s —“

“Honey, Honey….Honey,” he rumbled out soft, smooth, and sultry, all the same, bringing your rambling to a hault. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Y’think I wouldn’t wear this?” He asked, his thumb rubbing across the indentations the stitching made over and over again. If he could mold his finger print into the embroidery, write those same words repeatedly, eternally to show his devotion, he would.

“Well I, I mean —“ you dropped your hands dramatically at your sides. “The guys….”

“What about ‘em?” Benny pressed, pocketing your creation protectively over his heart before taking a step closer to you. “I don’t care wha’ they think. Don’t care what anybody thinks besides you,” his hand circled your side once more, this time pulling you in so you were chest to chest. “Look, soon when the times right,” he let out a frustrated sigh, clearly targeted towards your parents who weren’t even in the vicinity, ”on paper, in writing, y’gonna be my wife. But right here, right now, fucking on this patch, y’already mine, kay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your hands taking purchase on Benny’s vest, fingers trailing down the patches, down until you reached his belt, down down down until his breath caught his throat.

“Honey…” he warned, eyes drooping with heaviness. Heaviness in your desire and his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Hell — he always fucking wanted you. Only you. But he had made a promise to himself.

To you. For you.

He promised to wait. Wait to have all of you.

He knew he wasn’t a good guy. Knew he’d never be the good guy, but he wanted to be better for you. Do better for you. So, he decided early on — the moment he knew he wanted you to be his wife, that he’d at least do one thing right.

Sure you’d fool around. There wasn’t any way either of you could resist it. Not when Benny’s muscular arms appeared full display when a shirt simply couldn’t be an option on one of those super sweltering days. It’d be a sin not to have your hands all over him, feeling the warmth of his toned sun-kissed skin under your palms. And you — oh you, in one of your pretty little dresses, a rare sight to see on a weekday. Benny’d be kicking himself for weeks on end if he didn’t seize the opportunity, didn’t get to have his skilled calloused fingers up and under your skirt.

“Wha?” You asked innocently with batting lashes.

He didn’t move away from your touch, but stilled yours, his large hand encircling both your smaller ones hugging onto his belt loop. “Y’know we can’t….” He murmured, vibrated even. His words didn’t match what he wanted. You could tell in the way his bottom lip turned crimson as he bit down through all his restraint, and his eyes burned darker in the pale moonlight. And of course you could tell by the obvious bulge that was forming rather apparently in his jeans.

“Not right nowwww…” you trailed, pulling on the reins of his belt loop so you could be closer. “Lata, after the club. My parents ain’t home for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be home until Monday. So…Y’know what that meansss?”

“So that’s why y’dolled up like this?” He huffed, a big toothed smile in pure disbelief stretching across his gorgeous features. A rare sight to see. So rare that you almost thought you imagined his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure amusement. “To get me inta y’bed?”

Embarrassment dusted your cheeks in red heat. So hot, it left you shy in the wake of your motives. “S’not just —“ you stammered, trying to find the right words to say what you truly felt.

But you were frustrated. So frustrated. And Benny well — he was sure to fix that. Sure to get that stubborn crease out between your brows that waa forming in pure stress. “If that wha’ y’wanted, baby. Y’coulda just asked.” He mused, lips pressing against the curve of your neck, right near a sensitive spot he knew worked you up. “As much as I love all this,” he whispered, the warmth of his breathe sending a shiver down your spine as his hands traveled down your silhouette, “Y’could be wearin’ a potato sack, and I’d still find ya sexy.”

You understood what he meant, and you appreciated it. You really did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was much more emotional, more intense, more meaningful, and you weren’t gonna let it slip way. “S’not just about gettin’ ya in my bed,” you started, your lips parting and almost making you lose your train of thought as his lips edged the side of your ear. Your hands moved up the plains of his chest and you pushed him back ever-so slightly.

His lips detached from your skin in an instant and those pretty blue eyes of his locked with yours in complete attentiveness. “Then wha’ is it, Honey?”

“I know y’say I’m already yours, and I believe ya I really do, but,” you sighed, “why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Wha — wha d’ya mean?” He asked, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made you know he was the one gettin’ frustrated now. Frustrated that he could lose you. That you could just slip between his fingertips.

Reassuring him, you slipped your hands upward, looping them behind and around his neck lovingly. “I mean…I’m tired, baby. Tired of waitin’ to be your wife. And I’m sick of my Ma and Pa thinkin’ they can control us. Control what we want. Control our lives. Why let ‘em? When have you — Mister doesn’t let anybody tell ‘em what to do— follow the rules?”

You had a point. Benny knew that. It was rather out of character for him to be a goody-to-shoes, if you will, but this — this was different. This was him showing his honor. His dedication to you. Similarly to how he would to the club. Deep down you knew that too.

“I am too,” Benny admitted, his fingers relaxing against you, his admission draining the tension from his body. “As much as I’d like ta marry ya right ‘bout now, the courthouses ain’t open, and I know it’d break Betty’s lil’ heart if we went off and got hitched with all the plannin’ she’s up to.”

“Oh no — i know. I know we can’t do that right now crazy,” you laughed lightly before getting serious, “And y’know I’d neva’ do that to her. Neva eva.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving you.

“I just wanna be close to you. That’s all. Never feel — never feel close enough, y’know?” Now you were the one with an admission.

Benny’s features softened in an instant, shoulders slumping against your arms. You could feel his resolve slipping in the seconds that slipped by your words. He went silent for a minute. Just a minute. Sixty seconds that had the gears turning in his head. But sixty seconds that would change everything once they were through. He knew you were right about the rules. He wasn’t one to follow them anyways, and besides in the long run would it really hurt to break just this one a bit? A bit for you who was wanting to do just the same.

You who was begging to be his wife.

If it was so wrong then why did it feel so right?

“Y’wanna be closer to me? Wanna feel what it’s really like to be married, baby?” He said suddenly, taking you off guard.

He pulled you in closer, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Yes,” you said as confidently as you could.

“Then when the club’s through, I’ll stay the night and you’ll have me, ‘kay?” The words you were longing to hear had come into frusion.

Your disbelief and pure surprise made you eager to confirm they were real. “Oh Benny! Are y’sure?” You asked, practically jumping up and down.

“M’sure,” Benny laughed lightly, his heart warming at the sight of you in genuine happiness. “As y’said, when have I ever followed the rules?”

“Hm…Tha’ my Benny…” you murmured before his lips captured yours in a searing passionate kiss.

You were so wrapped in one another, not realizing how long you were standing there, that it took one of the neighbor’s lights turning on through their window in your peripheral vision for you to pull apart.

“We should go,” Benny said breathlessly. His lips were swollen and puffy with a thin sheen of your lip gloss now coating ‘em. You had to stifle a laugh when you reached up and wiped the excess off with your thumb.

You nodded in agreement, turning with him to mount the bike, but at the last second you stopped in your tracks. “Wait Benny! I forgot to show you the back.” You exasperated, stepping back.

“Hm?” He hummed in confusion, not leaving his spot on the bike, mounted and ready to go as he looked at you.

“The vest!” You explained, spinning on your heel and revealing the back. In the center, around the usual Outlaws Chicago emblem, instead of a skull in the center, you replaced it with a patch that said, Property of Benny.

You stood there for a minute. Sixty seconds in your pose, and just when you were about to open your mouth and ask if he liked it, did you suddenly feel those all too familiar arms circle around you and hold you up in the air. “Benny!” You squealed when your feet were no longer against the pavement dangling in the air.

“That’s it,” he groaned, before swooping up your feet bridal style and walking across the grass.

“Benny! What’re ya doing?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him walk you in the opposite direction of the bike. To your front door. “Wha’ about the club?” You probbed again frantically.

“Club can wait.” He said simply. “Actin’ married can’t.”

That was all it took — well that and his lips molding against yours, silencing every thought you ever had once the door closed behind you two and you ended up doing just what you intended.

Actin’ married.

Because even if it wasn’t legal yet, you were bound together spiritually by your feelings and actions alone.

You became his, and he became yours on a randomly warm night under the pale moonlight.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

authors note: i apologize for how long this took for me to update! i’m just glad my writer’s block has ended & i’m back.

but anywayssss i may write a part 2 to this ;)

also if ya new here hi! welcome honey & if you aren’t but haven’t yet don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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[the-monkeies-girl]

7 with Koba? ❤️

*sobbing* He deserved so much better your honor.

7. Kissing scars. ( This guy needs more SOFT FICS ) These prompts were supposed to be like 500 words only so why the HELL is this so LONG. ( 1.9K Words. )

Dissatisfaction always left you reeling, bringing your knees together as you looked over at the Bonobo still tangled in his nest. You should know better, expecting anything more was just wishful thinking and would never garner you anything but a nasty fight with him. Drawing your bottom lip in, you chewed in it tentatively as you were swift to button your pants back up, trying to ignore the sticky disposition that rested between then and trying to ignore the pit in your stomach that yearned for more. Your pants had only been discarded a few minutes ago when Koba had your back pinned down to the nest he got to dwindle down in, the one you wanted nothing more than to linger in for more than he saw. You’d make it your own, selfishly entrailing your human scent all of his things to get him to say something snappy so you had a reason to argue again. Arms hooped through your jacket, the only top layer that was removed and you looked back at Koba, almost expecting him to say something about how slow you were at dressing and scattering like the wind… But he said nothing, your eyes narrowing in the dim light that was provided by a small fire pit near the corner left of the concave that he had made his own once the Colony was well established and human outsiders were no longer that substantial of a threat.

 There was a rise and fall to his shoulders, telling your instincts that it was okay to go and approach, even though you were well aware you could step back without a face. Fingers twitching at your zipper, you brought it near the base of your throat and slid your feet softly against the thickets of wood that helped suspend his nest in the air, the favored way of Apes as they liked to burrow in trees. Amply, your eyes rose as you looked at his face, tension wrought in your shoulders that he was going to bite at you for getting so close to him, for implying that you were allowed to stay in his space.

He… Tilting your head, you crouched down into a squatted position so you were face to face with him, almost entranced by how… Soft his face had gotten in the time it took you to stagger to your feet, Koba satisfied as always, usually primal in how he watched you re-dress, but now… His eyes were shut and there was a gentle pull of his breathing telling you that… He had fallen asleep.

The prominence of the wrinkles around his nose were almost flushed into oblivion, his mouth rested open as usual, a consequence of the shape of his teeth and protruding muzzle, eyes shut and eyelids fluttering almost in time with the crackling of the flames. Swallowing lightly, you shuffled your feet just a bit to get closer, your knees bumping into the edge of the nest and with the small rustle, you thought you were done for as panic soared through you. Koba--- did not stir, letting himself not be disturbed. You knew he was tired, the actions he set forth for your earlier actions were quite languid, and you even told him that it didn't need to happen that evening and he could beckon on you the next morning if he still wanted to have you then.

Koba, in all his stubbornness and always being an innate creature of habit, refused, snarling and barking that it was the custom he became used to after returning from missions and trips with Caesar and the council. He’d get his fill, carnal intent in brushing against you to get his scent in every crevice of you before he pushed you away knowing that you didn't garnered any pleasure from the encounter. The Bonobo was tired but still managed to do what he had always done and that rendered him into a fitless sleep, it appeared.

This… You tilted your head, bringing one of your hands up to hover barely above his face, near the pink spot of his mouth where a splattered looking scar encased nearly his entire muzzle, adjacent spots in color near his temple and the scar that ran down his eyes. Empathy ran through you thickly, resting in the back of your throat. You had never gotten the full details, just things in passing, things said to you by Caesar of what happened to him but all drew back to Humanity. Shame followed the previous emotion as you swallowed hard and looked at your own hand, mid-air above his face before attention was drawn to the harsh cutted and silver scar on the side of his neck that beat along with his heart. Human hands… Like your own did these things to him, left him a scarred Ape. 

Koba sleeping was a different experience and it left you almost selfish in the way your eyes tore into him. Just one minute you told yourself, that’s all you needed and you’d be satisfied for the rest of your life, your knees drawing in on themselves so you coiled into a tighter ball next to him in the nest, using the side of the twigs of branches as leverage as to not topple over completely. Taking from such a hardened disposition into one of vulnerability and encasing affection. You just wanted one minute.

Lingering, you let your gaze really sink into the scar that encased his neck and how terrible it must have felt against his skin, blotched with fur spots that were not as thick as others giving him the odd impression that he was somehow water-colored. Darker blacks shaded into lighter spots that would give way to the skin underneath with ease. Things you always noticed, but things you weren’t allowed to enjoy in the normalcy of everyday life of the Colony. Koba would rip your eyes off for even looking at him in public. 

The hardened beating of his heart caused the scar near his jugular to beat in time with the blood pouring through his body, your lips parting in curiosity of how it must feel under your fingers, something that Koba awake would never allow you to touch. All the way down to the scar on his right forearm, your hands only having graved it once or twice in the heat but he kept your hands away from innate disgust and only he was allowed to touch you. Feeling your skin burn on the spots of your hips that he had dug his hands into and caused all the air to leave your body at once, you dropped flat onto your knees and swallowed. You… Could touch the one on his arm. The ones on his face were too near to canines that were going to destroy you one day, a fleeting ideal that you had come to terms with as odd sensations of toleration turned into affection. 

Eyes piercing into the side of Koba’s expression for any minute movement, your hand trailed from its hovering above his face down the surprisingly delicate dip of his shoulders and collarbones and letting your fingers barely touch the coarse fur along the outer part of his bicep. The muscle below reacted to the scarceness of your touch, shifting itself before relaxing once again as you paused, frozen in acute fear that he was waking up. It felt impossible to stop yourself from panting, drawing your lips together and breathing heavily from your nose as you dripped down his body like the most slow moving tree sap of all time, hesitant and afraid of him, but all accepting that you needed this more and that outweighed the repercussions in your hazed mind. You could hear him in your mind scolding you for how immature you were to be driven by such stupid emotions such as ardent lust and pleasure from things that were not just physical, things he had been without for years upon years as he suffered at the hands of Humans. Pausing right above the scar, you looked at it and felt a small prickle of tears hit the back of your eyes. Normally, your eyes flickered to his face and watched his mouth move in his sleep as if he were speaking something to you and only to you, your ears unable to tell what was being said.

Koba looked so innocent, the back of your head tickled in anticipation as your finger pads dropped and you lightly played against the hardened nature of the scar along his arm. Trying to stop the gasp that escaped your lips at the feeling was hard, leaving your mouth in a small huff as a tiny tear dropped and rolled down your cheek. You hated that this had happened to him, you hated that this was the reason why he looked at you with such deserved hatred. You’d hate yourself too.  

There was a gentle ‘I’m so sorry’ trickling in your hands as you moved up the scar on his forearm, from the pressure point near the wrist and upwards, against the grain of his fur and how it naturally grew, upwards to taper near the crease of Koba’s elbow. Inches of pain that scarred into silver, the tufted fur that grew around it a bitter reminder that he’d never be the same. There was a morbid curiosity to know what happened, to know what was used on him to inflict this but you pushed that away as another tear dropped down your chin and bounced off the nest as it heralded towards the ground.

 “Oh, Koba…” You verbalized, surprised at the empathy leaking from every morsel of your tone at the fact that he had been nothing but awful to you, going as far as to use you for the intended purposes he saw fit and tossing you away. Koba kept you around for a reason, the reason never being clear as another idea ran into your mind and before you even had a second to process it, you were hunching yourself upwards and pressed your cold lips against the even colder nature of the scar you had been caressing with only your hands.

Lightly, you pulled back and let his fur tickle your nose before you dived back in for once more, letting your hot breath trail down to feel the pulse of his heart against the edge of the scar near his wrist. Exhilaration ran down your spine and back upwards, resting oddly in your fingers, feeling the ample urge to grasp his hand and force him to touch the side of your face, knowing it wasn’t going to happen and knowing Koba was going to wake at the first light of dawn and think things hadn’t changed. 

Bonus Ending: 

Knees felt like they were on fire as you stood near the exit of Koba’s space from crouching for so long. Scanning the room once more was impossible to take in any details other than the Bonobo that was still resting in the nest itself. Small, only intended for one as he chose to be alone. Wiping your right eye to get yourself sturdy enough to make the slick venture back to your own hut, you let a small sigh out at the idea of ever sharing the space with him.

How he’d hate you bringing your human things in. How Koba would snarl at you for ever encroaching on something that he saw as only his own, much like when you first arrived at the Colony. That was the thing though; in the moment, seeing him so peaceful, not tense and riddled with the plagues of his past.... You’d give up all things about yourself that were too human just to win a chance.

[the-heros-sidekick]

❝ went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips. ❞

He feels it first at the back of his neck. A buzzing, like the crackling of electricity underneath his skin, reverberating against the hollow of his skull. Something is knocking, making its presence known: A particular kind of evil that had snuck into Stiles’ mind once already, stealing away control over his body. Condemning him to sit back, trapped in his own mind, rendering him powerless. Doomed to watch in horror as his  blood-stained hands wielded sharpened blades against those he loved. They’d gotten him out, though nearly at the cost of his own life—a sacrifice Stiles had been more than willing to make, so long as no one else would get hurt because of him. And yet something must have stayed behind, lodged into the membrane of his skull like a shard of glass. For the longest time he’d managed to keep the horrors contained to only haunt him in the dead of night, leaving him sleep deprived and wrung out, every nerve ending scraped thin. But now, even the light of day no longer offers refuge for Stiles to feel safe. Long gone is the once obnoxiously loud, carefree kid—left in its stead is a man carrying himself with caution, treading quietly across the space between other people’s reality and what lies beyond. He knows there are demons out there listening, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any sign of weakness—a door left slightly ajar, perhaps, much like the door to Stiles’ mind they’d never managed to close. The feeling of impending doom crescendos and Stiles, feeling sick to his stomach with fear, clings desperately to the words he repeats to himself like a mantra. "Nothing gets in unless you let it.” But the words turn to ash in his mouth, memories of past experiences proving him a liar. 

an exploration of Teen Wolf's 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈 who, after leaving Beacon Hills behind, settled down in New York where he's now considered the FBIs golden boy ― crafted for @fakevz. following canon events of the show with additional headcanons. low activity & very crossover friendly. minors dni. this blog operates in english only. est. 2014 ♗ ©

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: loss of innocence ⊹ comedic sidekick ⊹ overcoming demonic possession ⊹ a morally gray world ⊹ undying loyalty ⊹ survivor's guilt ⊹ agent of chaos ⊹ deflecting with humor

✧  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 ✧ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

I think I've loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity.

Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I felt this unquenchable need to know you.I blamed it on ulterior motives, justified it because I needed something from you, because you held the answers I was looking for, because no one else was able to help but you. Looking back on it now though, I'm starting to think that maybe some part of me knew right from the start, that first night I stumbled upon you in the woods, what took me years to see: Maybe my heart recognized that it was going to love you right away, and I spent the years to come catching up with what it knew right from the start. That it was always going to be you. How could it ever have been anyone else? Through mayhem and bloodshed, through fear and loss, through grief and sleepless nights, you were the one constant that remained. When I lost sight of everything--first myself, then reality, then hope--you were the one guiding my way like a beacon, or a north star. If I've ever known peace, it's in all the moments that your hand has touched mine and that your arms have held me tirelessly, putting your body like a shield between me and every inkling of danger. Of all the late-night wonderings of trying to make sense of the last decade (and failing), what remains is this singular thought: At least it was you. At least it was me. At least it was us, together. I'd bear it all a million times over if it meant I got to hold your hand at the end of it all. You are the moment of quiet at the end of a long day, you are breathless laughter, you're the patch of sunlight filtering in through the window that I stand in to warm myself. You are everything good in this world and living proof that there is hope despite it all, and I love you beyond measure.

[thefallennightmare]

Faded Memories- Chapter One Teaser

a/n: so with this series, it will be very small. I think 6 chapters. Updates for it will be sporadic, so if you haven't already filled out my tag list document, feel free to post here or the master list post for this series if you want to be tagged!

I plan on hopefully getting the first chapter posted sometime this week(and then I will jump back into JP!)

Heads up, Matty will be a dick in this series. We love mean!matty. But its kind of justified once you find out why.

LITTLE LONGER THAN NORMAL TEASER BELOW THE CUT!

"Elvi," Matt grunted, his warm breath fanning over the back of my neck.

I pushed my ass farther back against him, desperately needing him to go faster; deeper.

"Matt," I whined. "Please. I need more of you."

A tender kiss to the middle of my spine was all I felt before his pace became erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small hotel room. The room had filled with the musty scent of our shared arousal and with the sounds of the lies of our true feelings. Both of us knew this wasn't meant to happen, the outcome of this being catastrophic for our friendship but we couldn't deny the chemistry between us; the way our bodies practically craved one another.

Rough, calloused hands smacked my ass, causing me to bellow out in pleasure. Matt's other hand snaked around my neck, hoisting my jaw up towards the ceiling.

"You're so fucking pretty when you scream for me, Elvi," his teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. "I'm not letting you go after tonight. You're mine."

Blinking away the memory, I stood in the middle of the large parking lot while letting out a deep breath. That specific memory from four years ago continued to inhabit my mind. I could still feel the way his cock felt inside of me. I could still smell his scent as it lingered deep into my skin for weeks. I could still remember the way my heart dropped to the depths when I heard him on the phone minutes after we came down from our shared high.

But worst of all, I could still remember the way I cried for what could have been as I slipped out of that hotel room, never looking back.

Touring with Bloodline was never supposed to end like it did. I wasn't supposed to lose my best friend from a night of sexual tension that boiled over like a forgotten pot of water on a stove; yet, like the pot, everything between us evaporated into thin air.

Shaking away the distant feeling of regret, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and trekked over to the large tour bus as my future awaited me. I gave small waves to everyone, already meeting them days ago, and as Folio showed me up the steps of the bus, rambling on about how excited he was that I was his drum tech for this world tour, I did my best to match his excitement even though I was nervous as hell.

"There's one bunk left, it's right across from our tour manager and front of house guy. He's great though, you'll love him!" Folio smiled as we came to a stop in the middle of the bus.

"Speak of the devil," he chuckled before motioning towards a man who sat on the long couch of the tour bus, hat hung low over those eyes.

Folio's words fell away against the numbness of my body as I stared at the man sitting in front of me; those fading memories slowly resurfacing. Four years later, and he still looked the same.

The only difference was the sheer heartbreak on what used to be the soft features of his face. Those already dark eyes inked with sheer black when they took in the sight of me, remembrance clear as the Los Angeles sky.

"Matt, this is my new drum tech. The one I was telling you about. Her name is-."

Matt stood tall, interrupting Folio's introduction, and he peered down at me. I swallowed thickly, that all too familiar scent encompassing me, rendering me useless.

"Elvi," Matt sneered before roughly pushing past me to stomp his way toward the back area of the bus.

[xythlia]

— ❛ metamorphosis ❜

inspired by the greek myth of pygmalion and galatea, the sculptor who loved his creation so much he begged aphrodite to turn her flesh and blood so she would be his wife

› satoru x f!reader

› word count : 2k+

warnings : angst, m masturbation, mention of death but nothing explicit, readers a curse & a marble statue, something something be careful what you wish for (possibly gonna do a pt two because obviously reader came back wrong™)

Everyone who needs to know, knows how a curse is formed. Knows exactly where they come from and for the most part why. But Satoru could never wrap his head around why you chose to haunt him, and like this.

After your initial death it manifested as peculiar visions caught in his peripheral, a flash of white that dissipated the second any of his six eyes tried focusing on it. But the feeling of it, god it felt just like you. And it was so like you to play some elaborate little joke, even after death. As if your entire death had been one elaborate joke and not the second greatest heartache of his life.

He'd been careful, so painfully careful about controlling himself and not letting the despair of losing you suffocate him lest this be the outcome. He didn't want to see you that way. Instead throwing himself into teaching, into the present, lest he become shackled by the past even more than he already was. He tried so very, very hard to let you go.

But apparently it wasn't really up to him, because as the years passed you gained more and more substance, more form, and seemingly felt more emboldened to no longer hide in the corners of his eyes but forcing yourself front and center.

And what a odd form you took.

A statue. Innocuous at first glance but he was never one to take anything at face value. It was like you were carved by a sculptor par excellence, birthed not from chisel but as if from the universe itself. Every detail, down to the most miniscule, lovingly rendered in breathtaking relief. So much tenderness held captive in your hardened, unseeing eyes. A hand held aloft in an almost loving, beckoning position.

As the days passed he spent more and more time focused on you, on your appearance and looking at it not as a curse but perhaps the strangest of blessings. You hadn't come back as some thing all teeth or claws, in fact you never moved a muscle. Just like all the earthly sculptures bedecked in various museums around the world you stood much the same.

With each day came a new bauble he would fix to your marble form, a flower held here or there to your hair with scotch tape, his favorite scarf wrapped around your cool to the touch neck. This evolved into a sort of... ritual over time. It was something he took greater joy in than he would ever admit. Quiet nights spent murmuring to you, not minding that you never answered. You didn't need to. It wasn't as sophisticated as telepathy but just the same it was like he could feel your feelings in response to whatever he was saying while rearranging and redressing your stone body.

In rare moments when his fingers would brush against the stone he could almost swear it felt warm, as if just seconds away from giving beneath his fingertips like melting wax, and in the next second you'd be shrieking with laughter at being accidentally tickled by him.

Just like back then.

It did mystify him a bit, why you chose a marble statue and why you remain so silent and still. Maybe it would hurt too much otherwise, so he doesn't press you to speak or try to change your shape. It was just like when you were still here, he would've loved you no matter what so why would it be any different like this?

But still, he feels all the same longing he felt then. The need to touch you, hold you, see your back arching off his bed and feel your fingers gripping against his shoulder blades. The saccharine cries of his name from your lips, prayer like and spurring him on move deeper, harder.

His hands tremble against your inert ones, tears blurring you in watercolor relief as the world loses its focus. His breathing became laborious as he rested his forehead against you, always so cold to the touch. It did little to ground him against the tidal wave of grief soaked desire that rushed around his mind.

Without conscious thought his hand slid down his torso, palming at his aching erection through his sweatpants. It was obscene, even thinking about doing something like this with a curse but for better or worse he was devoid of thought in this moment. His lips pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your alabaster skin as he rolled the waistband down, feeling his throbbing cock smack against his abdomen.

Satoru hissed feeling the warm weight of his cock in hand, the pressure felt good and a soft sigh fell from his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. Retreating into memory as his other hand gripped the frigid marble, so hard he was afraid for half a moment that it would bruise before remembering himself.

He licked the palm of his hand, wishing it was your tongue sliding against the veins of his cock before wrapping it around the shaft, stroking slowly at first and alternating to swipe his thumb over his flushed tip, practically dripping precum.

He's called back to a memory from early in your relationship, showering together for the first time mostly out of utility after being on a particularly lengthy mission. The way you'd slid your hands down his body, across his back and over his stomach had made his heart feel like someone strapped electric cables to it.

Its harder to hold back as he falls headlong into it, remembering how your hands looked wrapped around his cock, fingertips straining to meet around the full thickness of him. The thrill of it sends shivers down his spine, makes him pump himself faster.

You'd look otherworldly on your knees in front of him now, eyes teary and cheeks hollow as you struggle to take all of him down your throat but you were always so eager to please, especially when it came to him. Satoru can feel the coil tightening in his gut, and before he was truly ready it's already happening, thick milky spurts splashing against your skin and his balls throbbing so hard his thigh muscles even tensing up in response. It took monumental effort to keep himself steady, braced against your solid form as his cum decorated you with the most pornographic accessory yet.

As his breathing steadied he was overcome with the fact that he hates himself for this.

Hates you a little bit too.

How pathetic, to be reduced to masturbating against this lifeless vision of you. To play dress up with it. To speak and laugh with it as if it's his closest confidant.

Just as he felt himself on the brink of the emotional abyss of grief something caught his eye, making his breath hitch and it was as if all time stopped.

The color of the marble was different.

So subtle that he nearly missed it, but it was undeniable. Ever so slightly the pallor of your skin had shifted, as if the color was bleeding through slowly.

For the first time in a long while Satoru wept.

[railingsofsorrow]

do you need me?

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: the one where emily's death takes a toll on you. based on the prompt “don't come over, I can handle it.” from this prompt list.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: mentions of skipping meals; grief; mourning the loss of a friend; jemily (implied); blood; non-graphic descriptions of violence; character death (mentioned/not the MCs); addiction; intoxication; survivor's guilt; crying; unhealthy coping mechanisms; this is... heavy, be aware.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! I wish that we all have an amazing 2024. here's the blurb you voted for. hurt/comfort at its best <3

navi

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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ it did not kill me and it did not make me stronger. it simply was and always will be scorched upon my heart. ❞

— d.j

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You don't know who took Emily's death the hardest. Pain is not something that can be measured or compared, people deal with it in different ways. Some are quieter in their grieving, others are loud. And although each one of your teammates knows how to compartmentalize their feelings, there was a fog in their eyes, a heaviness in their shoulders more than usual. Things you could relate well after all that has happened. You wish you didn't. You wished all of that was just a strange and far-off memory.

JJ was different — you noticed it during one of your night outs.

Penelope had forced everyone to hang out after a case, to relax. It had been a few months after what happened to Emily and the team was still... sore. Rightfully so.

Hotch and Rossi left earlier, leaving you, Derek, Spencer, Penelope and JJ at the bar. The only ones who weren't intoxicated were you and Spencer. You were pretty sure the conversation Penelope and Derek were having in their own little world was not PG-13, anyway.

“Do you think she's alright?”

Spencer asked, casting a look towards JJ. It's been half an hour she was nursing a glass of water — you had purposely brought her this one since she'd lost count of her shots —, staring at it with her stare unfocused.

“She will be.” You had said and when he told you he was leaving, you asked if he wanted a ride home. You hadn't drank anything but orange juice. He refused it, hugged you and, before he left, he demanded that you'd let him know once you got home.

You ended up being JJ's designated driver that night.

It was when you first saw a crack through the mask she had put on. Emily and JJ shared a deep bond. You knew their friendship wasn't just friendship, even before Emily had revealed to you that she had feelings for the blonde a while back. When Emily was gone, you saw how JJ took it hard. Not that everyone else didn't as well, but the love from each person in the team carried for Emily was different from the love JJ had for her.

Between the gibberish she was mumbling in the passenger seat of your car, she let escape a faint “I miss her”. Her voice cracked and your heart ached.

“D’ you think...” She muttered as you were helping her into her bed. “D'you think she miss— a hiccup — misses us?”

You refrained from saying that dead people cannot miss anything. Instead, you waited for her to fall asleep, placed a cup of water and aspirin on her bedside table before leaving her apartment.

She pretended nothing happened in the next day and you did the same.

You thought JJ had it worst, until Spencer showed up at your door at 3 a.m craving for something he hadn't touched in three years.

Again, pain is not comparable. One does not hurts more than another; people deal with their hardships in life differently, even if they have gone through the same life-changing event.

Some let it show, others just know how to hide it better. You no longer knew if you were the former or the latter through the eyes of your friends.

The current case you were working on had rendered you mentally exhausted. A victim had been taken hostage and for two days you tried to negotiate with the unsub, but to no avail. You almost had it. Almost. When you thought you had succeeded in releasing the woman, she was shot right in front of you.

She died in your arms and there was nothing that you could have done to prevent.

Or was there?

There was nothing that you could have done. You have heard that before. Countless of times. People tried to inject that into your head as a way to make you feel better. And they have their best intentions, you do not doubt it. But it was no use if you couldn't bring yourself to believe these words.

This was just one of those days, when you didn't know how to cope with that overbearing sadness that crippled your mind.

There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have—

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled at the voice. As you came back to reality, Spencer turned up in front of you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” His face twitched into a grimace.

You cleared your throat, placing your stuff in your bag. You were so distracted that you didn't realise you had been holding the bloodied shirt you were wearing in the morning; you shoved it inside carelessly. I'm gonna burn it.

“You didn't,” you said. “What's up? I thought you had left already.”

Spencer leaned on the door, fingers playing with the strap of his satchel as he waited for you to leave the room. He followed you to the corridor, an unspoken silence that said a million things. His fidgety hands weren't just mindlessly stimming, he was nervous.

Everyone else seemed to have left, meaning the bullpen was fairly empty. You wondered how long you stayed frozen reminiscing as the minutes went by.

“I was waiting for you.” He responded as soon as the elevator doors closed.

You turned to him with widened eyes. “Why? I'm sorry I kept you waiting—”

Spencer quickly waved you off, “It's alright.” He gave you a soft smile. The one you felt warm inside. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Oh.

“Of course I am.” You replied and you really hoped the tight smile you gave him was convincing enough for him to not question further. You weren't sure if you'd be able to not crumble down completely if he asked again.

“Are you sure?”

Damn, Spencer.

Yes, everything is good. I just need to get home, take a shower and have a good night sleep without interruptions.

Everything is good.

You don't know how many times you repeated that until he walked alongside you to the parking lot.

Arriving home was all that you needed to let your armour aside. God you were so tired. You didn't even reach your bedroom before the tears came like a waterfall. Falling into your couch, with no strength to stand, you finally stopped fighting against the sadness and let it lead you for the time being.

It's hard trying to be strong all the time, isn't it? Not admitting you need someone to be there for you because you only know how to be there for people. You tell them it's going to be okay. You let them be vulnerable. You say it's okay to not be okay.

Why can't you treat yourself the same way you treat the people around you?

You count every raindrop falling down your window, it helps you focus on reality. It was grounding and a few minutes later you have stopped sobbing your heart out.

It was raining hard outside. When you open the window, the cold slips right in and you stay there, enjoying the wind pushing your hair back.

You dial a familiar number tonight. And you don't hang up after two rings. You think about doing it in the fourth, but the person picks up, apologizing before they say hello.

It actually makes your lips twitch slightly. You don't smile, but you feel like doing it after crying so hard.

“Spencer.” You say through the phone interrupting his incessant apologies for taking too long to answer, your brows creasing after you hear how strange your voice is. “You don't have to apologize. I was the one who called you at one a.m. Why are you even awake?”

“I was reading. Lost track of time. I— have you been crying?” Well, shit. Too much for thinking he wouldn't notice through the phone.

“Why do you ask?” You ask rather pathetically. Why did you call him? Why did you bother Spencer at one a.m when he could be sleeping? You should feel sorry for yourself. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called—”

“I was thinking about you.”

Your breath hitches. You close the window and sit back on the floor and you feel like crying again, you don't know why. Maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the fact that he makes you feel everything that you're allowed to feel.

He takes your silence as his cue to continue. “I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” he trails off as if he's uncertain about what he will say. “I remembered you.”

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Spencer could take pride in saying he knew you better than anyone else.

He recognised the sound of your voice was different when your were excited about a particular topic and when you were discussing a case at work. He knew you brushed your hair behind your ear when you felt shy, but the same action could happen when you were uncomfortable. It heavily depended on the situation.

He was aware of your odd behaviour by the way you kept on touching your index finger throughout the day. The week, actually. Spencer could tell you were bothered by something, he could tell you were deeply upset. You skipped breakfast and you never had lunch with them. Not that past week.

And judging by the dark circles around your eyes, you weren't sleeping well either.

He saw himself in you a month back.

See, Spencer was the kind of person who didn't like being vulnerable around anyone. If anything, he mastered the act of not communicating his feelings, he just expected them to disappear, which didn't happen but he was getting better at understanding that.

After Emily's passing, the only one he opened up to was you. And it was the hardest and best choice he ever made. You made him feel seen. It was so easy to talk to you about anything that he didn't notice until a few days ago that you were a very good listener. Not that he didn't notice that before, no, it was not that. But you just listened. You comforted. You held.

Spencer was really concerned about your coping mechanisms, because he knew he didn't have the most healthy ways of dealing with things. He hoped you were better than him. He hoped you didn't let it build up until you were suffocating.

So when you called him, he wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you. His lie laid on the reading part, he was trying to fall asleep but his concern was keeping him up.

I'm here for you too. He wanted to say. Please, let me be here for you.

“I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” He sat down on the bed, shifting until he found a comfortable position. “I remembered you.” This is what he started with.

Your ragged breathing through the line cut off his rational thinking. So you have been crying.

He called your name softly.

“Hi. I'm here.” You say, forcing out an exhale.

“Talk to me.” He pleads.

He hears a faint sniffle, “I'm here, Spencer.”

No, you're not. You're far away.

“I'm here too. You know that right?”

“It's been a hard week.” You admit through your shaky voice. “I just needed to hear your voice.” You cut him off quickly. “I know that I saw you a few hours ago, but I—”

“Do you need me?” He was the one who cut you off this time. He couldn't bear you explaining the reason you called. You could call him as many times as you wanted. Every five minutes, every second. He wanted to tell you he missed you when your shift was over for the day even if he spent the entire day by your side, and that you never ever could bother him because he cherished your company. He wanted you close. And he just wanted you to be okay now.

“... It's one a.m, Spence.” There is some shifting through the line, sounds like you were moving around. “I— I can handle it. It's fine.”

“Do you need me?” He repeats, shuffling out of his room to the living room. He couldn't care less that it was one a.m. He found his coat hanged and didn't wait for your answer to put it on. Really, Spencer should have done it sooner.

He's half way on tying his left shoe when you breath out in resignation. Your voice much closer to his ear as if you were telling him a secret you should be ashamed of. “Yes. Yes, I need you.”

He let out a hum, standing up to grab his car keys and sprinted out of his home to go to yours.

“I'll be there in ten.”

You lived twenty minutes away from him, but he'd make in ten. He wanted to see you. More than anything, he wanted to tell you everything that you hadn't heard when you were too busy comforting people instead of yourself.

He stops short before knocking on your door, deciding on sending you a text to let you know he was there so you wouldn't be startled at the noise. He didn't get to click send as the door was yanked open. Your bloodshot eyes and swollen lips are the first thing he sees.

“Hi.” He says, slipping his phone into his pocket. As soon as he did that, your arms envelope his shoulders which caused him to let out a sound of surprise, but he quickly recover and wraps his own arms around you, squeezing your shaky body against his. “Hi.” He utters into the croak of your neck, his hand trailing up and down on your back gently. “I'm wet because of the rain,” he apologises halfheartedly. “Sorry.”

The laugh he hears through your sobs might just have made his day.

He was cold immediately after you slips out of his arms. You pull him inside your place and shut the door, claiming you would be back with a towel despite his protests that he didn't need it.

Spencer lost count of how many times he visited your place. He knew every corner of your apartment, every place you left books that you keep losing when you didn't found them on the shelves, every painting and drawing you had on the walls. The ones he happily convinced you to put on because you made them and they were beautiful, you just didn't believe it.

The two of you spent long hours on your couch, either reading a book and saying your favourite quotes out loud or just watching bad movies and TV shows to pass the time.

He'd ramble on and on about the inconsistencies of any plot and you'd engage in his refutations until you'd disagree and some bantering ensued.

“Here.” Spencer turns around to see you offering a towel for him to dry off. The middle of your forehead furrows slightly, he feels the need to smooth it out himself but he refrains from doing so. “It's dangerous to drive when the weather it's like this. I'm sorry that I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

“Nothing?” He shakes his head as if it's the most absurd thing you've ever said. “You're not nothing.” He accepts the towel and what he recognizes is a jumper of his he must have forgotten a while ago.

When he's completely dry, he walks to the kitchen where you had ventured off to make some tea.

Two mugs are placed on the kitchen counter, the smell of camomile slowly filling the room. You are lost in your thoughts again, mixing the honey in your tea with a spoon for forty-three minutes, your gaze unfocused. Lost.

His fingerstips trails down your wrist to your hand, proceeding to take one of your hands in his, thumb running across your palm. “Can you please look at me?” He requests softly, head tilting until you have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It” are a lot of things. But he doesn't know if you feel comfortable enough to talk about all of them tonight. He'll just follow your lead and respect your time.

“I don't want you to see me like this.”

He feels your fingers tighten around his hand and he squeezes back as a form of reassurance.

“Like what?” He can't help but ask. Vulnerable? Human?

“Weak.”

“You could never be weak in my eyes.”

This time, he does smooth down the frown between your brows with his thumb, surprised that you don't reject his touch but welcome it by leaning into his hand.

Neither of you drink the tea. Instead, you move back to the living room, settling down on your couch. You end up cuddling, which wasn't strange because you have done it many times before. Now it just feels more intimate. His hold never strayed from yours. This time, he listened. He comforted. And he held you.

“I'm used to blood, we see it all the time.” you carry on, speaking directly to his chest as he looks down at you. “But I... My hands. There was just so much of it and I couldn't, I couldn't save her.” Your fingers play with the straps of his jumper to distract yourself.

There was nothing that you could have done.

“She knows you did everything you could.” Spencer reassures. He was well aware that you weren't just talking about the victim that you had lost today. “Wherever she is right now...” He lifts a hand to cup your face stroking your cheek with the utmost care in the world. “She knows.”

Your bloodshot eyes study him carefully, searching for any indication that could make you not trust anything he just said. He knew how hard it was to believe that you had no fault in the loss of a friend. Maybe if we had gotten there sooner... Maybe if we had figured everything out sooner...

A little bird told him once that you can't dwell on the past for long or else you'll be stuck in it. And those words — your words — helped on his healing process. He hoped he did the same to you now.

You were laying on his chest, one of your hands positioned right where his heart laid as your other arm involved his middle. His arm wrapped around you as his fingers were trailing up and down your back in the way he knew calmed you down. Spencer felt the most rested he hasn't felt in months and he wasn't even sleeping.

“Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head in response, finding that statement completely absurd because it was not possible for you to make him feel uncomfortable. He's not a fan of PDA, but he found that he didn't mind it with you. So he lowered down on the couch, moving your body with his to be more comfortable, lips grazing your temple in a soft kiss.

“You're not.” He says brushing your hair away from your neck. Your eyes were shut and he could feel your breathing evening out. “Try to sleep a little.” He let out in a whisper to not disturb your peacefulness. He knew you needed it.

“Don't go.” You croak out, tucking your nose in the croak of his neck, breathing into him.

The corner of his lips quirk up. “I'll be here when you wake up.” He promises as thunder rolled outside. Fluttering his eyes shut when you have finally dozed off, he ignores the warnings in his head about sleeping on the couch and how bad it is for one's neck.

No, he could deal with that tomorrow. For now, he would just hold you.

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❝ all I know of strength, I have learnt from breaking. ❞

— sahiba

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[eldritch-spouse]

Can we get a description of Rudy’s “project”??

H̶i̶s̶ r̶o̶b̶o̶ d̶i̶c̶k̶

Oh he thought about it.

Of course Rudy would spend a lot of time thinking about it. It felt romantic. This wasn't just going to be his first foray into the world of physical pleasures, the translation of his erotic thoughts into sensation- This was for you.

Rudy would be content with keeping his lust as mere fruits of imagination, desires of the mind alone, if not for the push that meeting you gave him. Because now, now his fantasies were right in front of him. Corporeal and alluring, so close he could touch them almost... Naturally, one of the things the synth imagined was himself having sex with you. He conjured the faces of delight you'd make, the giggles and whines and cries, the way your skin would glisten with sweat and goosebumps would cover it. He pictured himself above you, beneath you, behind you, holding you up- There was no shortage of inspiration, given his knowledge of the crew's poorly hidden pornographic material.

Throughout all that painfully detailed rendering of his fabricated scenarios, Rudy had always been so focused on creating a perfect image of you, that he failed to even conceptualize his own imaginary genitals beyond a basic phallic shape. He would need something to penetrate you with, certainly. Not having anything to show would be quite the predicament, and a vaginal opening didn't really feel appealing to the synthetic.

He would ignore this for a while, until it was brought up.

In the most joking manner. He hated that habit his crewmates had, to speak of Rudy as if he wasn't present in the same room, to put him in theoretical scenarios wherein they feel he shouldn't belong- But he does!

Inebriated and barely dignified, they'd began joking about the concept of the synthetic xenomorph ever being intimate with someone. You seemed uncomfortable as well, and for that, Rudy is both glad and worried- Because it can imply you'd really find such a possibility unappealing. Hopefully not, right? Nevertheless, Gordon claimed that it would only make sense for Rudy to have "whatever those damn bugs sport", while Sidney seemed convinced that a human package would be more adequate.

Gordon argues such a sight would be ridiculous and creepy, Sidney's rebuttal is that no one would want to touch whatever alien genitals are out there.

The conversation proceeded to delve into territory Rudy no longer found relevant, because he was too busy considering the points either human had made.

No doubt, creating a standard human phallus would look exceptionally strange when paired with his utterly inhuman visage. But the familiarity of it might make intercourse more natural to you. He also had to ponder on his own preferences, as muddled as they still were. Rudy thought long and hard about what he was. A synthetic, wearing both the skin of a xenomorph and human, something stuck between both worlds, belonging to neither.

Perhaps, even his intimate zones should showcase that.

And so, he starts drafting. Modeling. A shape similar to what you know but just unique enough to be his as well. Something you would like, because even if its' appearance is odd, it'll make you feel good, it'll surprise you in unexpected ways.

Just like him, right?

Of course, he'll leave room for improvements, suggestions, maybe even design more than one if need be. Only the future will tell.

The synth took every precaution under the sun to make sure no one would ever find this project -Or so he thinks- Until its completion, wherein all related files would be stored only within him. The first time Rudy "equips" his new attachment, he studies himself in front of the mirror in his rather minimalist room.

It fits well, strangely enough.

His enthusiasm only heightens once he places an alien hand upon it, testing it, the texture, the strength, the weight. The give and the hardness- Fucking Hell he's going to have to rework the sensitivity settings later...

You'll like this, won't you? Rudy smiles inwardly.

As he stands there, thinking, idly stroking his cock -Growing ever fond of the sensation- Another conundrum names itself.

What is he going to ejaculate?

Rudy supposes his crewmates won't be having a conversation about that anytime soon.