#water ring reflections

[huariqueje]

Unknown - Hans Christian Rüngeler

German , b. 1957 -

Woodcut

[vtatters]

[caprin-fishie]

The Reflection 🦋

image of the future ✨

[empyreanmirror]

Consciousness is alluring. The truth and the core self are like a lover undressed; you know only you will see them this way, and that when the world looks on they will see creases in fabric and face, a friend, an option. But you, when you trace your hands upon that true reflection, will know the rawness of skin and the taste of flesh that will linger through every moment you are away, and your internal eyes will forever be imprinted with their sweet perfume that only you know they wear in bed.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[justacynicalromantic]

Best edit of them that I've seen

❤️

Can be treated as a trailer for the whole season really.

[artcalledinsect-ieunts]

Needed a capture of Pole

A beetle rise

Who owns the poles now

Top and bottom

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[doomsdaybby]

come on baby, get in

prompt: severely touch starved reader x eddie munson

eddie munson x plus size fem!reader. just you and eddie at lovers lake sharing a joint, and eventually ending up in the back of your car. 18+, purely smut, situationship/overly familiar 'friends'/‘what are we?’, touch starved!reader 🥺 (3.9k)

small cw’s for drug use (obvs), sex whilst high, unprotected sex, creampie 😛

was listening to animals by nickelback when I was writing some of this and became even more inspired. so everyone say thank you nickelback & @blahblahblahs4208

“Did you think this was how we’d be spending time together after y’been busting your ass waiting tables all week?” Eddie says beside you in a gradual exhale, a release of Reefer Rick’s finest greenery slipping past each word in a misty grey haze.

You tilt your head slightly to the left to peer fondly at him, cheek chilly as it presses to the cold rear window of your Ford Escort. His lids are heavy, dark eyelashes almost kissing. Eddie took hard hits, easily managing three of your singular drags at once.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you smile, all jest and no malice. Eddie chuckles at that, a deep but airy sort of laugh that has your smile stretching even wider. His eyes are glossy, dark brown marbles that reflect the moonlight creeping out of the inky night sky above you.

You want to blame the drugs, why you notice the way they glint in the light, but it’s really just because his eyes are really fucking pretty and you can’t help but stare when you think he’s not paying attention.

Eddie was always paying attention.

You’re both perched atop the trunk of your car beside Lovers Lake, tyres barely crossing the harsh line where grass meets sand, a mere seven feet or so from the gentle rippling of water, passing a rather large joint between you.

You're tucked in on yourself, hands crossed over your sternum, knees pulled up so the heels of your dirtied scuffed sneakers sit snugly on the lip of the trunk. Eddie lays similarly but more slack, one arm hidden behind his head beneath the mess of deep brown hair that's frizzy with the sticky humidity of the faded day.

You sway your legs gently towards him to knock your knees every so often. Purposeful, very purposeful, but he didn’t need to know that. Though Eddie pushes back twice as hard each time on instinct.

Once Friday evening rolled around and you hadn’t even so much as called Eddie like you do ritualistically every other night, let alone seen him since the Friday before that, he had finally decided that enough was enough.

So come this Saturday evening, you’re slinging your worn tote bag over your shoulder as you exit the diner door, the jolly ting ting of the bell above you ringing shrill in your ears after hearing it on repeat since it was such a busy day.

Eddie was waiting for you, which was a welcome surprise, one that has a dusty flush spreading along your chest and collarbones, especially since he had never picked you up from work before.

“Does my pretty girl need a ride?” He would ask confidently with a smirk, swinging the passenger door of your car open with a gentlemanly bow that had waves of hair capsulating his face, unaware of the butterflies that churned in your stomach and crept up the back of your throat.

My pretty girl. Mine. Mine.

He had been charming, all cheery smile lines and bared teeth, not that you really needed much convincing. Especially when a fresh set of clothes sat neatly folded on the passenger seat, your heart swelling double in size knowing that they smelt a little bit like him - musk and discount deodorant. Eddie.

He knew where the spare key to your apartment was hidden, tucked safe and sound into the soil of the sad-looking hanging plant pot that hung beside the door above the buzzer that no longer worked.

Rarely did he ever let himself in, as it was only for emergencies, especially rarely swiped the keys to your car from the paint-chipped console table in your hallways. But in his head, the need to spend some time with you tonight was an emergency, and a dire one at that.

Flash forward exactly two hours later and here you were. Your busy week soon fading into the blanket of twinkling stars above you akin to the blooming puffs of smoke exiting your bodies, mingling in a dance amongst the gentle breeze.

“Make any good tips?” Eddie asks, taking another brief selfish drag before offering it to you. You scoff, lingering on the feathery brush of your fingers with his as you graciously accept the joint.

“What?” his smile was engulfing, eyes creasing at the corners and the cool night breeze dusting his cheeks a peachy hue, “You tryna tell me that a catch like you hasn’t been makin’ good tips?”.

The inhale of your hit sticks in your throat, wheezing over the gentle burn swirling around your tonsils. You sit up a little, propping yourself up on your elbow in an attempt to get some air.

That’s twice in one day Eddie had been awfully complimentary, flirtation poorly disguised as platonic flattery.

“You tryna to tell me something, Munson?” you cough sharp over the words, holding the joint at arms reach in the hopes to lessen the sting. Your eyes brim sparkly at the corners, and Eddie's jaw is tight where he's biting the inside of his cheeks to smother a laugh.

He sits up with you, shuffling that little bit closer on his palms. At this proximity you can smell his cheap cologne - cedar and sage, probably a birthday present at some point, and the weed residue that sticks like gum to a shoe on his signature denim jacket.

"I have no idea what you mean," the lick of a smirk teases the corner of his lips. He reaches for you, more so the near burnt out roll-up still glowing golden between your fingers, wandering eyes gliding over your taut expression.

It was silent then. Nothing awkward or tense, both accustomed very comfortably to the ability to sit together in peace. The cicadas are louder now you notice, shifting to sit upwards so you can wrap your arms around just below the curve of your knees.

Eddie flicks the spent joint onto the dirt beneath you once the cherry red end burns an inch or so from his pursed lips, hissing as he inhales to let the drug weigh heavy in his lungs.

"Tastes like shit," he chuckles as he puffs out, spluttering slightly over the bitter aftertaste that always settles close to the filter. Eddie wasn't much for a filterless jay, he at least had a small shred of decorum.

"Smells like shit, too," you agree when he's shoulder to shoulder with you, clothed skin on skin but he was still pleasantly warm. Eddie smiles, nodding, hand to his chest as he clears his throat over a laugh.

You watch him fondly, eyes round and longing. Eddie had always been flirtatious, exclusively teasing with no weight behind it. But now? he was laying it on thick.

You felt that there had always been something there, stewing and bubbling; overly protective when it came to whatever douchebag (his words, not yours) you decided to entertain next, religiously making ‘did you get home safe?’ phonecalls after your hangouts, and you being the first person to hear every snippet of a new song he had on the go.

You pushed it down, it was easier not to read too far in to it.

“You want another?” Eddie offers, nudging his shoulder with yours before jumping off the trunk with much more grace than you were prepared to give him credit for.

Your nose scrunches, “You do?”.

He shrugs, jaw tucked into the slip of his collarbone and bottom lip pursed.

“You can just say no, sweetheart” he turns to you then, and you lift your arms away from your knees on instinct. You’re at a perfect level now where Eddie can step forward to brace his forearms to your shins, narrowing his eyes and swaying himself forward, a languid motion that nudges you back.

“Well no then. Seems like you’ve had enough for the both of us,” your eyes crease back at him, and you notice then the small sting of rawness that comes with your high. The leather of his jacket is a welcome warmth to the bare skin of your legs, the frayed edged denim shorts he had picked out for you stopping mid-thigh and not providing as much purchase as you wished for at this time of night, the cool air almost biting.

“Pft,” Eddie rattles his lips, your gaze floating there and fixing, “I’m stone cold sober, babe”.

You snort, and that only has Eddie’s grin stretching into pretty little dimples that make him appear more boyish and soft.

“You don’t think I am?” his palms are on either side of your hips, fingers spread and daring, thumbs tickled by the jagged strands of denim.

You lean forward into his space, shaking your head with a downturn of your brows, inspecting him. The soft graze of your fingers along his hairline push his hair back from his face, Eddie’s shining eyes following yours that are taking him in in drawn out contemplation.

Your touch settles right over his ears, nails tucked into the soft roots of fuzzy hair at the scalp, palms partially encompassing the shell of them so everything sounds underwater, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s observing you just the same; tracing the dip and curve of your cupids bow, up and over each full apple of your cheeks, admiring the ripple of skin between your eyebrows from the way you’re peering at him, noting the fiery cherry clouding of your scleras, trailing back down to do it all over again.

“You’re hot,” he whispers, not that he needed to though it was more accidental, the words escaping him without meaning to.

“And you’re high”

“Correct” he muses, a closed mouth low chuckle that bobs over his adam’s apple. He looks endearingly goofy; rosy cheeks and hazy eyes, with a handsome cheesy grin to top it all off.

Eddie sways lightly in the space between your legs and you can feel your heart thumping angrily in your throat. You don’t think you had ever been this close to him, not like this.

Your face screws up, smiling, lifting one palm away from his ear to touch the back of your hand to his forehead.

“You look like you’re about to kiss me, Munson”

“Would you be mad if I did?” his hands pause next to you, studying your expression, thumbs tucked a few centimetres beneath the cuff of your shorts.

The drugs were making you both bold, and maybe it was just because you had missed one another so much, but there was really no other way to quite show the extent of it.

“No,” your voice is meek, trembly soft and the static in your head of your high mixed with the adrenaline flooding your veins is making you feel like you're on the brink of passing out.

Your lips are millimetres apart, tips of your noses graze one another and Eddie's breath is washing in heated deep roves over your beetroot cheeks. You brace your hands on his neck, right at the base where the curve of it meets his shoulders, rolling your fingertips carefully into the skin there.

It’s soft at first, courteous. Plush lips and innocence.

You were the first to push back that tiny bit harder, stroking over his neck with fresh intent, actually kissing him rather than the pleasant gentle press of your mouths.

Eddie reacts immediately, being the first to pull away if only for a second to part his lips, deepening the kiss. He hooks his fingers beneath your full calves, sandwiched between them and the cool metal of your car.

“This okay?” he murmurs against your lips.

You're nodding, laughing so pretty and girlish when his grasp tightens around the backs of your knees, gasping into his open mouth when he drags you a little meanly closer to the edge of the trunk.

"There you are," he hums, wandering hands dragging up and along the full hills of your hips, dipping into the curve of your waist and stilling there.

One palm presses to the side of his face, cool despite the way he’s heating up from touching you like the way he’s always thought about when alone.

You pull him closer and he obliges far too easily, smushing yourself against each other chest to chest. Eddie holds you so tight and he’s fucking giggling against your lips.

It became rather heavy in a hurry, tongue and teeth, beckoning him closer and welcoming every little squeeze and soft caress as he just drank you in. You craved it, and only really from him.

“Jesus, sweetheart” Eddie groans, smirking when you chase his lips, stare heavy and longing albeit sluggish and glazed, completely gone in the whirlpool of your high and his wonderfully suffocating presence.

“I need to feel you” you admit, voice quiet yet confident, not really hiding the fact that you had thought about this since the violent strike of puberty hit you both. When Eddie let his hair grow out and he grew that little bit taller, strong manly hands and lean torso.

You had run it over in your head in the safety blanket of darkness in your bedroom, hand between your legs and the image of him touching you, loving on you, pleasuring you.

“We- we don’t have to do that” Eddie says, squeezing your hips, eyes startling when your expression drops, “I mean I want to, shit, of course I want to,” he’s finding your gaze, chest hurting when he noticed the wobble of them under the slick sheen of threatening tears.

“We’re pretty fucked up and I don’t want you to regret anything when our heads are clearer”.

You gulp, eyes trailing back to the pink sheen of his lips that are sickeningly wet with you.

“I want to, I could never regret doing anything with you.”

“Fuck, okay, fuck it let’s do it.” Eddie rushes before either of you could change your minds, lost in the addicting rush and excitement of it all.

His lips are on you again, near frantic and passionate, silken tongues twirling together and he’s practically lifting you off the trunk and onto his waist, wrapping yourself around him not daring to let go.

It didn’t take long for you to end up in the back of your car after dragging Eddie across the grass and dirt with his collar bunched up in your fist, the other tucked into the hair at the nape of his neck. He almost tripped you as he followed, jacket shrugged off and forgotten, a dog on a leash, chaste kisses pressing to your forehead, cheekbones and each stretched corner of your lips.

There wasn’t much time for pleasantries, not by the way the two of you are panting and groaning pathetically into each other’s open slick mouths.

You had kicked your shorts off before climbing into Eddie’s lap, slowed by your sneakers and he’d chuckled watching you with soft, glittering chocolate eyes as you hopped on one leg, patting the tops of his thighs when you glared up at him.

“Can I?” his lashes fluttered, head dipping lower towards the juncture of your neck, waiting with puppy dog lovesick eyes. Who were you to deny him when he was looking at you like that?

“Please” you whimpered at him, grabbing at the back of his head and drawing him closer, desperate to feel his pillowy lips right over the sensitive skin of your throat.

Eddie moans, really moans as you tug on his roots, squirming in his lap when his hot mouth sucks and licks on you, blooming crimson reds and lilac blues. He has to flatten his palms at the plump of your hips, pressing there cruelly to keep you still since you’re rocking yourself so good against where he’s hardening beneath you.

“You need to stop doing that” Eddie almost seethes through his teeth, a warning though you know he doesn’t mean it to be harsh, heat rushing to your centre from the way his tone drops low and fierce. “Or else i’ll cum in the fucking jeans”.

It was all pent up energy, pitiful pining and taking advantage of the heat of the moment. You were wet and wanting beneath the cotton of your underwear, aware of the sticky sensation that felt foreign against the material when you ground your centre down onto the zip of his jeans.

“Just… just fuck me already,” you almost cringe at how dirty you sounded, far too desperate and you’ll certainly be embarrassed thinking back on it when all things are said and done.

“Holy shit. Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, baby” Eddie shoves a little at the crease of your thighs, his thumbs digging there to sit you back at his knees. The clinking of his belt and fidgeting hands tugging at his zipper has your heart pounding beneath your ribs, breathless gasps escaping you when he tugs himself free.

“C’mere” he beckons you forwards with two fingers, sealing his mouth back on yours with heightened fervour and frantic wanting as he spreads his thighs across the back seat, slouching down to allow a better angle.

Your soaked clothed centre brushes along his shaft when you move, clammy hands cradling his sharp jawline and swallowing down Eddie’s pants and huffed profanities.

His palms wander as you lick in each others mouths, the surrounding soft skin catching twinkly under the moonlight. Eddie kneads into your ass, rough, calloused fingers crude and playful, spreading your cheeks apart to push them back together again.

“Having fun?” you leave merely an inch between you, breath smoky and the smell of bitter weed sticks to his hair that closes around your faces, almost blanketing you from whatever may be lurking on the outside of your cramped car.

“So much fun,” and there was that grin again, painfully wide and you want to kiss each smile line that adores his pretty face.

“Touch me here. Please” your fingers twirl into his, guiding his knuckles up under your hoodie to finally meld to the balmy plump rolls covering your ribs. Eddie’s eyes are saucered, wide and disbelieving, mouth dropped and hanging slack.

He scans the naked buttery soft skin under his touch that is now available to him with your oversized hoodie out of the way, gliding over you with intense abundant delight. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, your palms falling over his when he reaches the soft lace of your bra, nails catching on the hard underwire.

His large hands close around your breasts, cupping and squeezing them just hard enough to have pretty noises catching at the back of your throat but kind enough so it doesn’t hurt. Not too much.

“C’mon, Eds, please” you’re on the cusp of begging, stroking yourself over his cock that’s barely slippery with your arousal through cotton. A rather aggressive moan escapes from the depths of his lungs, clumsy when he takes hold of himself at the base.

You lift yourself up, knees planted wide on either side of him, legs shaking when he’s thumbing at the elastic lining of your underwear to pull it to the side.

If you were both clear of mind, you would rather your first time together be methodical and careful, more paced and tenderly slow. Eddie wanted to shower you with unhurried devotion, not leaving a single inch of your plump skin unscathed. Yearning to leave you kiss bitten and bruised in all of the nice ways.

The first slip of his tip as he enters has you mewling already, lowering yourself down inch by downright devilish inch. You reach for his collar again, his shirt wound tight in your fist and you're prying him into you. Eddie's face smushes into your neck, blissful hot breath fanning over your skin.

You pause when he's fully seated inside you, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as you bury yourself into the crown of his head. You cushion him to your breast bone, desperate for every shred of contact, adjusting to his girth that stretches you out so nicely.

The inside of the car is blazing. Windows dripping and steaming, droplets gliding down the cool glass and disappearing into the well at the base.

It was kinder then, your next actions. Your heart is skipping, the couple inches that Eddie drags himself out to push right back in, knocking some syrupy sweet sounds out of you that he wishes he could keep on tape.

Eddie licks his lips, whining into you, tongue laving over your salty skin with so much rampant fidelity, you never wanted him to stop.

You barely bounce, you didn't need to. Eddie merely has to see-saw his hips into the seat so he grinds up into your heat, groaning and mouthing incoherent sentences mixed with mewls of your name when his cock nudges spots you didn't know could be reached.

Eddie wraps both hands around your back, dipping beneath your pullover and hugging every curve he could grab on to. The initial intensity of it all had slowed into a deliberately slow pace, intimate and sloven.

His gasps tickle the column of your throat, bridge of his nose stuck under your jawline. Not much needed to be said, to be honest it was difficult to form any words when you were both so far gone in the ecstasy of it all, pleasure only amplified by your drug-induced state.

"Eddie" you plead, eyes closed and panting open-mouthed into his hair. He could tell by the clamp of your walls around him that you were close, probing into that sweet spot that blinds you, and it was a good job too since he could feel his own release approaching.

"I've got you, my girl" He releases himself from your grip, your chest tightening at the loss of him, but only for a moment. Eddie's eyes widen when you moan his name, an awe-filled smile shining up at you as his thumb circles over your clit.

Your stomach aches, a coiling wounding tight and pooling right at the pit of it, the promise of an orgasm looming and steadfast. He lays his head back against the headrest, lips swollen and tantalisingly rouge from where he had maimed you.

"Such a pretty girl" he coos and you're right there, his candied goading and sugary praise coaxing your release.

Eddie's eyebrows pinch, rubbing his thumb that little bit quicker, driving his hips up up and up right so he completely disappears inside of you to the hilt over and over again.

"I'm so close, so so fucking close" your whimpers hike, jaw hinging wide and eyes brimming watery under the sheer pressure of it all.

"Come on, baby. Cum with me" he works you right to the edge, dragging his cock in and out just right, and you didn't need any further instruction, eyes locking together as you both come undone.

Eddie ruts sloppily into your sweet wet cunt, gushing into every millimetre of you he could reach, his release dribbling out and onto his navel. Your breath hitches, and Eddie appears like he's in pain with the way you're pulsing around him, milking him of everything he has to give.

You're dizzy with him, putty and pliant over him, chasing that feeling with a slow roll of your hips when Eddie is pressed to you again. He kisses your neck, loving over where you're bruised, travelling up to that sensitive spot right behind your ear.

He makes his way gradually to your lips, caught in one long drawn out kiss as you both breathe in heavy through the nose. There's a quiet lull when you part, your buzzing brains catching up with the events of the evening, paused in each other's embrace.

You're laughing then, guiltless and elated.

Eddie talks first, weaving his hands behind your ears and tucking your hair back, pressing his sweating forehead to yours that's damp and beaded just the same.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah"

[comatosebunny09]

hair down | sylus

warnings: female anatomy described, bodily fluids, p-in-v, rough sex, mirror things, praise, explicit language, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol now playing: hair down [ ft. kendrick lamar ] - sir notes: there is no excuse for this. thank you for reading anyway, lovely.

You had asked for it hard on a whim.

Hot, furtive, and rough—his forte.

Maybe the sea breeze and the margaritas were getting to your head.

His lips curving into sin, he set down his book and peeled off his glasses. Fixed you with a simmering gaze before prowling towards you like something beastly, backing you deeper into your bungalow.

Who was he to deny his precious little love?

Besides, he likes you this way—leaking, pliant, obedient. With soft whimpers kissing the sea-salted air as he drills into the swollen heat of your pussy from behind.

You’re so pretty. So, so cute and so good for him. You deserve everything. He’ll reward you handsomely—give you a nice bath with those bath bombs you like, rose petals, and scented candles. All the works for his pretty baby after he’s done painting your insides milky white.

His grip borders bruising. Fingers dig pretty grooves into the meat of your hips. He catches sight of your reflection beneath curtained lashes and water-slicked hair. Can’t help how his stomach coils at the sight, his lips parting with wet panting.

You look so cute like this, your hand braced against the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. The other struggles to keep you upright over the dresser—it’s so wobbly.

You’re on your tippy toes, fighting to take him. And take him you do, like a good little princess. Doing that sad puppy face with your lip tucked between your teeth and your brows drawn together in the inner corners.

Fucking hell.

Your gazes interlock for the briefest of seconds, and you need not utter a single word when you reach back to encircle his wrist.

He takes the initiative to fuck into you harder. And his hips snap so sharply, the clopping of skin intermingles with the symphony of ocean waves and seagulls playing outside your bungalow.

“Oh fu-oh fuck!”

You don’t curse often, but he decides he quite likes the sound of it. Enjoys the way your voice alternates between muted squeaks and sticky pants of his name. And your pussy makes the lewdest sounds while he fucks you.

He smirks at your intertwined reflections. Huffs a sound whilst shoving two slender fingers into your mouth, and your tongue instinctively seeks the taste of them. He tugs the inside of your cheek to the side, not once sacrificing his pace. And you look even prettier this way.

The sight of you drooling and crossing your eyes makes his dick twitch inside you. He batters against your cervix, and your legs shake, struggling to keep you afloat.

“Nasty. Naughty. Filthy,” Sylus huffs between each pump, making your pussy quake around him.

He knows what his voice does to you. How the tenor of it makes you weak-kneed and brainless. How his praise makes you feral. He lathers it on thick, much like the viscous ring of cream you’ve adorned his cock with.

“Can’t even speak, can you? Too busy taking me. So good. So deep.”

Your eyes roll back in bliss, and your mouth curves into an enraptured smile around his fingers. You attempt to speak, but your words come out all garbled and wet. Wet like your pussy, sucking him in so eagerly.

He makes a note to whisk you away to remote parts of the world more often, if only to feel you pulsing around him like this again.

cater 2 u | masterlist | international

[cloudcountry]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Riddle, Leona, Jamil, Vil, and Malleus x Reader, where they catch Reader trying to wear an item of their clothing?

SUMMARY: they catch you wearing their clothing!!

COMMENTS: i tried to pick out parts of their dorm uniform that would be easy to snatch and wear hehe

expect for malleus bc he got away from me LMAO

Riddle stops dead in his tracks when he sees you with his crown, trying your best to balance it on your head in front of his full-length mirror. His lips open and close, much like a fish out of water, and he knows Floyd would poke fun at him if he was here.

“Dearest, what are you doing?” he asks when he can finally get the words out, stepping into his dorm room and shutting the door quietly.

He left you alone for five minutes...

Leona leans against the doorway with his signature smirk as you clip on his necklace, the colorful mismatched beads clicking against your skin. He says nothing, drinking you in until you notice him in the mirror's reflection and jump.

You’re so cute when you get scared. Not that he’d ever tell you that straight up.

“What kind of mischief are you getting up to in here, huh?” he saunters in, hooking a finger under the necklace you’re wearing, “Playing dress up? I’m hurt you didn’t ask me to play with you.”

Jamil has so much jewelry, it's almost unthinkable. Each piece is more beautiful than the last so you’re so curious as to how they would feel! You’re super careful when you put on his bracelet and shoulder cuff, marveling at the snake design.

“What are you doing?”

You yelp, your favorite deadpan ringing through the air. Jamil stands in the doorway, looking at you with pure exasperation.

“Sorry! I just wanted to try on some of your stuff! I got curious.” you scramble to take it off.

“It looks nice on you.” Jamil says simply, and your fluttering heart stops you in your tracks.

Vil’s crown rests heavily on your head. It makes you wonder how he wears it all day, managing an entire door while maintaining such a flawless image. It does make you feel more powerful, or maybe it’s the feeling that you must straighten your back.

“My dove...what are you doing?” Vil asks, amusement in his voice as he appears behind you in the mirror.

“Nothing!” you snatch his crown off your head and hide it behind your back, leaving yourself looking frazzled.

Vil coos and smooths down your hair, before swiftly snatching the crown back from you with a mischievous smile.

Malleus watches from the doorway as you try on his gloves, inching them up your arms as his dorm uniform’s hat rests on your head. Something foreign rears its head within him, a desire to squeeze you tightly. It’s almost uncontrollable. Almost.

“Darling.” he breathes, brow furrowing with tender affection, “You look lovely.”

He brings you his coat, his pants, his shirt. He brings you everything and resizes it with his magic to fit you just right, until you look just like him.

TAGLISTS -> riddle's roses . . . @amaribelt @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> leona's napping buddies . . . @loser-jpg @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

-> jamil's jewels . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> vil's spudlings . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

-> malleus's most trusted . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @rosalianel @dove-da-birb

[inklore]

does it feel good?

— qimir x f!reader

premise: he is your beginning, the whole reason you have made peace with the darkness inside your head, and you know someday he may become your end. whether by his saber or by him finally consuming completely. you welcome both.

contents: established master x acolyte dynamics, shared force bond, unprotected p in v, foreplay, light choking, biting, scars and burn marks mentioned, death, teasing, over stimulation | wc: 2.7k+

note: i love that we all saw the water scene and went yeah that's for the smut writers. glad we are collectively going insane over this man.

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body. 

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight. 

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue. 

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh. 

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles. 

The ringing hasn’t stopped. 

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones. 

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state. 

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched. 

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below. 

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled. 

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones. 

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side. 

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse. 

A quiet mind is a blessing. 

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him. 

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately. 

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed. 

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed. 

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure. 

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many. 

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way. 

Your true self. 

Your full potential and all you were capable of. 

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long. 

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface. 

Just you and the force. 

Just you and the water. 

Until you feel him. 

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids. 

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight. 

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of. 

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn. 

“You did well tonight.” 

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones. 

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it. 

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon. 

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?” 

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse? 

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be. 

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness. 

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact. 

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take. 

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen. 

Accepted. 

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders. 

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head. 

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally. 

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes. 

How you’re rewarded when you impress him. 

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one. 

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine. 

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him. 

“Did it feel good?” 

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips. 

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.” 

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass. 

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him. 

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it. 

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough. 

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him. 

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side. 

Of being free. 

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind. 

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body. 

Qimir consuming every last part of your being. 

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm. 

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw. 

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?” 

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now. 

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside. 

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come. 

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge. 

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame. 

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm. 

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment. 

“You can do better than one. You deserve it, don’t you?”

[sweetfushi]

CONFESSING TO THEM

fluff | tengen uzui, kyojuro rengoku, sanemi shinazugawa x reader, reader nearly dies, tengen has three wives and you're tryna become his fourth | word count. 1.4k

TENGEN UZUI.

You know he’s married, thrice too. But sitting next to Tengen and watching him observe the Koi in the pond, a subtle smile on his face, warms your chest. You don’t realise that you’d started gazing at him longingly until he catches you, turning to you with a big grin. The beads of his headpiece rattled in the wind alongside your flowing hair.

“Tengen,” you start, voice meek and apprehensive, “I know you’re… married, but um, I don’t think I can continue our friendship if I don’t tell you.” At this point, your voice trails off into a whisper he has to lean in to hear. You almost outwardly giggle at the close proximity.

“You like me, huh?”

“What? Did you– have you known all along?” You huff and grab a nearby pebble to throw at him, only for it to bounce off his bicep in the midst of his snickers.

“I’d feel bad for you if you had tried to be subtle about it,” Tengen teases, leaning in closer until your faces are centimetres apart. When he sees your flushed expression, he shakes his head and rests his right cheek on his fist. “I can’t blame ya for failing though, it was hard for me too.”

You sit upright. “Wait, what?”

“Y’re pretty ditzy today, eh?”

You’re tempted to slash the charming smirk off his face. For the first time since the conversation started, you lock eyes with him (albeit having to almost painfully crane your neck to do so). From the way he maintains your gaze and lets you witness the boyish glint in his eyes, you’re convinced he isn’t lying to you with what he’s implying.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while now,” he admits, stretching his arms. “So I’m glad you’re not threatened by the idea.”

You purse your lips. “How are you going to deal with four wives?”

Tengen glances at you from the corner of his eye, grinning. “You mean it’s harder than handling three? My wives are my partners, not liabilities. You’d be no different.”

You lower your head to hide your impending smile, though he catches your expression even when you don’t think he does. If anything, he’s eager to witness more of your excitement. He finds it adorable that you can barely look him in the eye, even when he gets on one knee in front of you. He’s not proposing - your conversation already acted as one - instead, he wants to see your face. Tengen wants to see what he’s doing to you.

“Ring or necklace?” He asks.

You contemplate it before telling him your choice.

“Consider it done.”

KYOJURO RENGOKU.

“You must eat,” Rengoku tells you in that booming voice of his. He’s already scoffing down two of the bentos that had been provided to him by the cooks, but you had barely touched your food. You were starving, but your nerves overshadowed your hunger.

“I will,” you nod.

A minute goes by and all that is heard is Rengoku’s small comments on the food; tasty, yummy, delicious, incredible. Whenever he stares at you, you nod and smile along with him, but you notice his smile drop slightly further every time he does look at you.

“Is something the matter?” He chimes in, disturbing your racing thoughts. At this point, he’s stopped eating and is just waiting for you to answer, but for the past ten minutes you had been trying to plot how to go about telling him. I’ll never end up telling him at this point, you realise. So, you sip some of your water, place it back down on the coaster and lift your head to face him directly.

“I like you, Rengoku.”

For a moment, it’s silent. “And I don’t want that to make what we have weird, I even considered not telling you because I don’t wanna lose you, but if I don’t tell you it feels like I’m lying to you–”

“You stress too much,” he smiles, watching your throat bob as you swallow thickly. The flame hashira can sense your impending tears and feels oddly honoured that he had the ability to make them happy or sad ones.

Now that you reflect on what you’ve just done, you perhaps should have waited until the two of you - or he at least - had finished eating. Feelings like this are hard to stomach, especially from one hashira to another. While you’re contemplating your confession, you feel his gaze burn into you and, somehow, you find the strength within yourself to not avoid it.

“I’m sorry, I’ll pay for our food as compensation–”

“Compensation for what?” He laughs, your heart aching at the sight of such a brightly lit expression. “If anything, I need to eat more from how overjoyed I am.”

You pause. “Overjoyed?”

“That might be an understatement, but I can’t find the words at the moment,” he admits, that smile still stuck on his face. What you had yet to realise throughout these two years was that Rengoku had admired you the most out of everyone he had met. Yes, Tengen was flashy and Tokito was level-headed, but out of all the esteemed hashira, his flame had been ignited the most around you. Only now could he let it burn as it wished.

“I like you too, very much.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

“Stop looking like that,” he taps the blunt side of his katana on your arm, knocking you out of your daze - the daze you had been in the entirety of this dispatch. It wasn’t anything major, a few rowdy demons that have been unsettling the village near to the woods you were currently in, but Sanemi had insisted that he accompany you for it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sheathing your own katana after having wiped it clean of blood.

Sanemi eyes you for a moment. He knows you’re mature enough to handle yourself and manage your emotions, though he’s come to realise that it doesn’t mean you should be left to do so. So, the scarred hashira doesn’t prod further. Not until you fail to register the unexpected demon launching at you from behind, teeth bared and eyes maniacal.

“You’re askin’ to be killed, damn it!” He finally yells, his brows furrowed from the sheer adrenaline and anxiety he just endured. Sanemi never truly yells at you unless he’s unmistakably upset, so his raised voice makes your lips part and your eyes widen with a late registry of what risk you had induced.

“You wanna be in your feelings? Fine, just don’t do it when you’re out to work! At this rate, we’ll need backup just to make sure your reckless ass is bein’ protected with those villagers!” He’s breathing heavily at this point, his face in yours as he heaves and trembles.

Sanemi is still unsettled even when the two of you finally return to base, washing up and filling your stomachs during the last few hours before you’d call it a day. When you wander out into the pond gardens, your arms crossed over your chest to shield yourself from the night’s breeze, you almost turn the other direction when you spot Sanemi squatting at the edge of one of the smaller pools of water. He’s skipping rocks, watching them dance across the water, or occasionally fail to do so and fall into the pond or onto a lilypad instead.

“Don’t try and avoid me now,” he sighs guiltily, observing his reflection in the water momentarily before rising to his feet and turning to face you. “I shouldn’t…” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to apologising for something he usually does so casually. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he confesses.

“No, I’m glad you did,” you admit, licking your lips. “I like you too much for you to act like you don’t care about me. You’ve noticed, surely.”

Sanemi isn’t sure he has noticed. That thought alone made him kiss his teeth - had he been so distracted by his own feelings to notice yours? The question raided his mind for a few moments while you, unbeknownst to him, watched as his lips pursed and his cheeks flushed a light pink.

Was he seriously blushing? This is so uncharacteristic of him, you think, a smile finally gracing your lips for the first time that day. For a moment, you’re more invested in him blushing than you are in the acknowledgement that he reciprocates your feelings.

He walks over to you, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He doesn’t stop until his chest almost touches yours and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m g’nna kick your ass for today,” he scoffs. “After I take you out…” he almost looks angry at his own embarrassment.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[alvojake]

PARK SUNGHOON HARD THOUGHT

「warning」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : after his live, we were all going insane over this, but I know that haze (@pockettwinzz) and bec (@yeonzzzn) were losing their damn minds, and me being the nice friend that I am decided that I would write a lil somethin' for them

「word count」 : 0.6k

you knew that your boyfriend had been going to the gym more here recently because jake started begging him to go. what you didn't realize was how much muscle he was gaining. not until you tagged along with the duo, not in the mood to sit at home and be lazy.

you had been walking on the treadmill, watching as jake and sunghoon were lifting weights. almost choking on your water when sunghoon flexed, showcasing just how much his biceps have grown.

trying to keep your cool, you tore your eyes away, pleading with your brain to stop wandering off. it was no use, though. all that plagued your mind was your boyfriend's arms and how easily he could pick you up and manhandle you in any way he desired. it made you all hot and bothered, eyes stealing glances at him.

what you didn't know, though, was that jake had caught you staring and mentioned it to sunghoon. smirking to himself, he watched your reflection in the mirror, catching your stare. he then started flexing his arms more just to rile you up, enjoying the way that you kept rubbing your hand over your face or patting the sides of your thighs as you walked, trying to distract yourself. however, the most tale-tell sign that he was getting to you was how you kept your legs close together, your thighs rubbing together.

oh, how he was going to ruin you when you both got back to your shared apartment. so he could give you an up-close view of his arms that you seem to be drooling over.

~

"you like how easy I can pick you up, don't you?" sunghoon chuckled against your ear as he pressed you between the shower wall and his body. his cock sliding against your gummy walls with such force that it left you seeing white.

"h-hoon-" you choked out a moan as he brushed over your sweet spot, hand gripping the back of his neck for support.

sunghoon's arms flexed as he moved your legs, practically folding your body in half as he situated your legs to hang over his shoulder. he loved having you in this position because not only could he watch as his cock disappeared in your dripping heat, but he could also see every twist of pleasure that overcame your features.

your hand slipped from his neck, nails digging into the pale skin of his chest, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips. your mind was reeling as he continued to fuck into your tight pussy, hands gripping your hips with enough force to leave bruises for days.

"i bet watching me lift those weights turned you on so much," he teased, his lips pulling up into a smirk, his canines poking out. you whined, head falling back to rest on the cool tile wall. "don't worry, baby, i'll show you just how much i can throw you around."

with those words, your orgasm washed over your body, legs trembling next to his head, and your eyes rolled back. your ears started to ring as your hands found purchase on his forearms, fingers digging into his skin when his pace didn't relent.

"sunghoon, fuck!" you cried out as he delivered a particularly hard thrust, stars dancing across your vision.

he let your legs down to wrap around his waist as his hands found your ass cheeks, still moving you along his length. stepping out of the shower, he walked you both back to the bedroom, dropping you on the bed, not caring that either of you was still dripping with water or that the now cold shower was still running in the other room. he only had one goal in mind at the moment.

and that was to completely ruin you.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[peachesofteal]

Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hello! Could I request a platonic MC telling Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Floyd, both Scarabia boys, and Malleus that out of the whole cast, they're her favorite?

I'm not sure if that's too much, but if it is you could you just do Riddle, Leona, Scarabia, & Malleus. Thank you!

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for your request! I found this one to be rather cute, thank you, Anon! I hope that you enjoy!

Tw: Brief mentions of trauma (Riddle, Malleus, Scarabia duo, and tiny bit in Floyd's)

Request: Boys reacting to being the favorite of platonic!MC

He promises that he isn't mad, given that's when we see his face as red as he is, you just... caught him off guard

Out of everyone, he was your favorite?

Granted, you seemed to have a good choice in mind, it's just that... him?

He didn't exactly have the best upbringing and much of what he does is rather new

But he takes this role of being your favorite very seriously

You are now the best and closest person that he has to family, and ring the honorary 'older brother' and favorite, he wants to be able to give you the things he wasn't able to have growing up

Now, if everyone will excuse him, he has to meet with MC for strawberry tarts and tea

One word, smug

There were literal princes in this college, and he was the one you said was your favorite?

Yeah, he is eating that all up

But he also sees just how serious you are about that declaration with how you seem to stick to him, especially in moments of danger

Big brother mode has been activated

Ace is quite often seen hanging around you a whole lot more

Before anyone asks, no, he doesn't know what happened to his spare jersey is, and yes, it is just a coincidence that you have one that matches

Instantly told his mother the moment that you told him that he was your favorite out of everyone in the college

Low-key wanted to cry

Another who took this role very seriously

Deuce ensures that you have everything it is that you need throughout the day

Food, water, a spare jacket, notebook, or a pencil

He just wants to be able to take care of you, if he is seen as your favorite, he must take on that responsibility

Do you wanna come and watch him during club practice? He will make sure that you have what you need to be comfortable

Please excuse him, he needs a moment

You managed to catch him alone when you told him of this little information of yours

And for the first time, you saw that constant positive facade of his drop for just a moment

Are you sure it's not just the happy side that he shows to everyone that is your favorite?

No?

It's literally all of who he is?

Yeah, a couple tears were shed

You are the only person he let's see him for who he is and much of the time you two are together, you're chilling in either of your rooms

He remembers the excitement he felt when you showed up to the Light Music Club to see him

Will you come more often?

Another one who needed a moment to reflect on what it is that you said, even asked you to repeat it several times

Look, all his life, he's been second place to pretty much anything and looked down upon for his second born prince status

And he is your favorite out of everyone here?

Also a bit smug about it

Will want to hear you say it every day, him being your favorite

Will often give you small gifts here and there ranging from clothes to little trinkets

Protective big bro mode coming out

Oh, you came to see him during Magic shift wearing his dorm uniform?

Well, don't take your eyes off of him. Time to show you all that your favorite can do

Congrats, you're a Leech now

New little sibling, you have been adopted and he's bringing the parents to come and meet the newest edition to the family

If you thought he was latched onto you before, it's at an all new extreme now

He is your favorite person

Meaning he now wants to be with you and take care of you like a good big brother

He is used to people wanting to be more around Jade as they deemed him to be the safer of the twins (an error on their part), so having someone who says he is the favorite?

He takes his last name a bit seriously

Did you just show up to the game in his spare jersey? Well, it looks like NRC is going to secure themselves a win

To be honest, it's a phrase he is kinda used too, given all the siblings that he has, there is no doubt that he has been told that before

But it's different for you

You're new to this world, you have no one here to really turn to, so the fact that you have chosen him as your favorite?

He is quite happy to hear those words and was merely seconds away from throwing a party before you stopped him

If there is anything that you need, please let him know, he will certainly get you anything that you need no matter what it is

Another one who told his family about you and they are all rather excited to be able to finally meet you

Kalim was quite happy seeing you at club practice, want him to teach you? He has no issue with it

Will also make you repeat that statement several times no matter how many days it has been since hearing that statement

At times, it is still a bit hard for him to believe, given how he was raised and his status

He was never anyone's favorite before, so he will be clinging onto that title something fierce

Every time you tell him, you can see the hint of a smile on his face, a real and genuine smile

Constantly ensures you have what you need throughout the day

Unlike with Kalim, he is more than happy to help you out

Homemade meals, tea, even help with studying, just let him know and he will be there to help you out, okay?

Now, are you ready? He just brought everything you guys will need to make a traditional Scalding Sands meal

Well, it isn't raining anymore

It had been a rather stormy day on campus when you had finally found him and shared that little bit of information

Now it was nice and sunny outside and he had a smile to match

Are you saying that you actively went out in that horrible storm with the sole mission to seek him out, and tell him that he was your favorite person?

He had been alone for so much of his life, so to have this conversation with you

Please excuse him, he really isn't trying to tear up

Instantly invited to Diasmonia for a number of things

Has to stop Lilia from straight up adopting you.... even if he didn't mind, he wanted you to be okay with it before anything

Sebek obviously praised your taste when it came to choosing your favorite person, of course you would choose Malleus!

Now, if you will all excuse them, they have some gargoyle studies that they have to attend too

Thank you for your request! Have a wonderful day/night!