#the sockets are purposefully whited out

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Read pt.1 here

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last

Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!

♡ ♡

She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.

It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.

She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.

She needed more.

♡ ♡

After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.

You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.

You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.

You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.

If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.

♡ ♡

Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.

It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.

A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test

Now you need me?

A.A: huh

Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?

A.A: need to get ahead

Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?

A.A: too loud

Okay coffee shop

A.A: I don’t like coffee

I didn’t ask

A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8

Little late for studying

A.A: do you ever shut up

If you promise you’ll be nice

A.A: I didn’t say that

I’m sure you’ll be a good girl

A.A: let me come over

See you at 8 tomorrow.

Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.

♡ ♡

When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.

When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.

She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.

You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.

You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.

“Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.

The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.

“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

“New game.”

She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”

You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“

“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”

She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.

Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.

You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.

You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.

“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.

“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.

You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”

She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.

You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.

“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.

Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.

“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.

The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.

“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”

“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.

“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.

“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.

Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.

“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.

“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.

Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.

“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.

This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby tlou #sub abby #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x you #abby a

[theladyoracle]

✧ Acolytes of The Collective - The Slenderman ✧

Creep Files Archive

𖦹⭒°｡⋆𖦹 By The Lady Oracle 𖦹⋆°｡⭒𖦹

a/n : Explaining my Creepypasta AU through my versions of the characters :) This is just my interpretation of the character, so I guess just a warning for non-accurate lore/personal interpretation/complete rewrites of concepts! Thank you and enjoy :)

The Slenderman, also referred to The Operator by his Proxies, is a paranormal entity in whom governs the entirety of the Slender Woods along with its inhabitants. With no specific origin, it’s hard to determine how old the Slenderman is. He is ancient, and his aura resonates with immortal evil. 

✧ Appearance ✧

He stands at a staggering 10ft, his body unnaturally thin and stringy. His skin is a ghastly white-gray color, stretched over his skeletal structure so tight that you can see the curvature of every bone - particular in his face and arms. His face is featureless, but in the light you can make out the impressions where his eye sockets and mouth would be. When he feeds, the skin on his face rips apart, revealing an unhinged jaw with monstrous needle-like teeth and a long, thin tongue. 

He most commonly wears a suit and tie

✧ Abilities ✧

His powers are quite expansive. Effects from merely being in his proximity can include; paranoia, delusions, nosebleeds, extreme ringing of the ears, migraines, coughing, vomiting, and loss of balance and eyesight. He is able to tamper with audio and video recordings. He is able to cast delusions onto his victims, such as posing as a familiar face, friend or family member. He can mimic familiar voices. He can send messages directly to others through telekinesis. He is able to control others, like a puppeteer, in order to carry out his bidding. He can teleport. He can seemingly faze through dimensions. 

He is able to form large black tendrils from his spine, allowing him to walk across great stretches of land without touching the ground at all. He can also use these tendrils to grab items and toss them around, or pick things up when needed. He can form these tendrils in such a way that they look like skeletal wings, although he can’t actually fly with them. 

✧ Slender Sickness ✧

Slender Sickness is common in those who come in contact with the Slenderman. This is something that Slenderman inflicts purposefully on others, rather than it being a natural consequence of all that goes near him. Slender Sickness is something that he uses tactfully, either as a defense against those who are poking around in things that they don’t belong or in order to break down an individual for his own benefit. 

Slender Sickness symptoms include those of being in proximity to the Slenderman, only much more severe. These symptoms persist even when not being near the Slenderman, and progressively worsen until an individual is at their weakest state. Oftentimes the symptoms drive individuals to seek out medications, particularly ones that they become reliant on (even without doing much good for the ailments.) 

✧ Motives ✧

He is otherworldly with motives that are difficult to grasp. He keeps all of his motivations under tight lock and key - he will never let his Proxies or Denizens know the true nature of his orders or actions.

He does not let them know that there is more beyond the forest. He keeps them in the dark so that they believe that they need him.

Despite what he makes his underlings believe, Slenderman is not the most powerful entity in the forest. He secretly works for an entity that is far greater than himself, and it is the source of all his power and abilities.

Although he tends to take on a very fatherly and professional personality when it comes to his ‘children’ (otherwise known as Denizens or residents...), at his core he is a monster.

There are often correlations between Slenderman’s actions and those of fairies from ancient folklore. Like trickster fae, Slenderman also lives in the woods and tricks individuals into giving up something precious. 

He is known for abducting children, young adults, and troubled individuals. Some could even argue that his Slender Woods acts as an enormous fairy circle. 

It is also notable that those who begin investigating the Slenderman will draw his attention. 

Some speculate that for every contract signed, and every child adopted he grows far more powerful. Years older. Years wiser. Infinitely stronger. 

Regardless, he is continuously, obsessively tracking down the most wretched souls (human or otherwise) to add to his collection of subservient children.

✧ Additionally... ✧

At his best, Slenderman’s character is gentle, kind, patient, calculated, and logical. At his worst, he is wrathful, evil, destructive and hungry. He is a monster of unimaginable power and ability, and when he sets his sights on something he wants - he gets it by any means necessary. 

The main role that Slenderman plays in my universe is that he is the connecting piece that separates the Slender Woods from the rest of the Collective. Sure, he still guides his 'children' who live in the mansion, and commands his Proxies to maintain order in the forest, but he is also up to his own unholy deeds. He spends a lot of time isolating himself within his study, holed up in his wretched mansion tending to his tasks.

#creepypasta #creepypastafandom #theladyoracle #creepypasta au #theladyoracleau #thecollective #thecollectiveau #creepypastacollectiveau #slenderman #slendermanheadcanons #acolytes of the collective #acolyte slenderman

[promisedangel]

Fresh Meat: Dirty Brother Killer- Chapter 2

First

Next

And with Confinement done, I can return to the squeal at long last. Learned a lot from Confinement and it does help flesh out the characters, but it’s not required to read to understand DBK. With this being a shorter project I hope I can bust this out before or around New Years in six months. Might be doable.

Chapter 2- Nothing Matters Anymore

Sans huffed in impatience. He had called out for the old lady beyond the Ruins door, but she did not answer. It was their nightly joke time, one of the few moments of sanity Sans had in this underground hell. Something he kept from Papyrus and Gaster. He paused. A bad taste manifested in his mouth at the thought of the crazed old man. The supposed 'Leader of Monsterkind' ever since King Dreemurr abdicated. He shook it off. He shouldn't think about him during his own time. Or any other idiots for that matter.

Sans tried to relax, as much as he could with the dogs in the forest. Sometimes it'd take a few minutes for her to show up. It wasn't often, but it did happen. Maybe another knock would speed her up? It was worth a try. After all, it had been about ten minutes. Sans knocked on the door with a little more force. He called out, “Come on, old lady.” The door moved slightly. His voice slowed and faded away. “Don't... leave me hanging...” He paused. The door moved with his knock. That shouldn't happen. There was a thin but powerful barrier over all entrances to the Ruins. It had been there since the old queen fled there. A pit welled in Sans's non-existent gut. His eyes went black. He called out one last time, unable to hide hints of his worry, “...old lady?” Silence. No footsteps. No voice beyond his own. He stood there for a moment, his arm still raised from his knock. He took a deep breath to steel himself, but deep down he suspected what was behind the door.

With his raised hand, he opened the door slowly. It did not creek, but ground against the stone. His eyes widened at the sight beyond the doors. Words were clawed into the stonework. Over and over again 'I'm sorry' was carved. Into the floor. Into the walls. But it was peripheral to him. Insignificant. He could only focus on the dust pile near one of the walls. Robes of purple and white mixed within.

Sans was silent as his emotions warred within him. A few cyan tears welled in his eye sockets, but none fell. She was dead. The old lady- the old queen- was dead. He always suspected it was her, but he ignored it. All for a shred of what little sanity was left in the Underground. A thought suddenly bubbled to the surface. Didn't the human kid come here? They had to have come from the Ruins. The entrances above Snowdin Forest would turn a human into a splattered mess for feral monsters to scoop up. Sans gasped as he remembered something strange the kid said before. When he brought out the substitute, the kid said something about not wanting to see someone off their meds again. Sans remembered he tried to pry, but Papyrus stopped him. Was the old lady the one they meant? Sans's tears began to fall. The old lady was fine until the kid showed up today. His cyan eye lit up as his mind connected everything. It was the kid. He chuckled huskily through his tears. Despite said tears, he declared sharply, “That. Kid. Is. Dead!” Sans teleported home. He landed in front of his bedroom door on the second floor. He sighed sharply. He took a moment to wipe the tears away and compose himself. He still had to compose himself in front of Papyrus.

Papyrus. Sans froze. The house smelled normal. Strange. Sans purposefully gave Papyrus half of his dose today. Left him on edge with the kid. There should be the scent of fresh blood somewhere in the house. But there wasn't. Only the normal clean smell the house always had. Sans relaxed his arms and opened his eyes. His eyes had returned to his normal white. The house was lighter than before. He turned toward the source of the new light. His sockets widened. The door had been broken. Sans jumped down with no issue. He approached the door frame to see the door was splintered into the snow. The door had been broken from the inside. Sans raised a confused brow. That shouldn't be possible. No way that kid was strong enough to break the door. Nor Papyrus with how weak he is, even if he dipped into his instinctual form. The pit in his gut returned. Where was Papyrus? It was only then that Sans realized the house was deathly quiet. He could hear the river in the distance from outside, but nothing else. Nothing moved within the dark house. Sans's dread built once more. Eerily similar to before he found the old lady. He smiled nervously. He hesitated before he called out, “P-Papyrus?” No response. That didn't bode well. Sans turned outside. No tracks in the snow. Both the kid and Papyrus should still be here. He rushed upstairs to Papyrus's room. He swung the door open. Nothing. No Papyrus snuggled in his bed. No mutilated human corpse. He peeked into his own room. Nothing once more. Sans began to shake. His cyan eye lit up with fear. Doubt swirled through his skull. He shouted, his fear readily heard, “Papyrus!”

Only one place left to look. Maybe he fell down in the kitchen again? He dawned a smile. Desperate, he clung to that last hope. He jumped down in front of the kitchen. He flipped the light switch. His eye darted around the room, ready to search every nook and cranny. But, it only took a second to find what he most feared. He froze. His arms fell to his side. His cyan eye disappeared, replaced by a black void. His gaze focused on the dust pile in the corner of the kitchen, bone-patterned pajamas intermixed within. Sans shakily stepped towards the pile. He gently pulled the pajamas out of the dust. He held them close. Turned them every way he could as he tried to prove to himself the pajamas were fake. That they weren't Papyrus's. He saw the tag. On it, Papyrus's name was carefully inscribed. There was no doubt. They were his.

Tears budded and fell from Sans's sockets for the second time in many years. Unlike with the old lady's death, these tears flowed heavily. He buckled to his knees and sobbed quietly. He hugged the pajamas close to his chest. The reality hit him hard. Everything that he loved. Everything that kept him sane in this hellhole was gone. Forever. Sans sobbed. His mind at first wallowed in his newfound misery. But, after a few moments, it began to question. How did this happen? Why him? Who would kill him? Sans's sobs silenced. His hands tightened into fists and shook. He gritted his teeth heavily. His cyan eye roared to life as anger burned across his skull. All focused on one thing. That kid. That fucking kid. They killed the old lady and Papyrus. They took everything from him in a single day. A large, crazed smile dawned on Sans's face. He began to chuckle. The chuckle slowly grew louder, madder. His arms felt like jelly and threatened to send him crashing to the floor. He steadied himself but tore Papyrus's pajamas, unnoticed in his madness.

Crack. The sound made Sans freeze. His laughs. His tears. Everything. He knew that sound all too well. His left hand, now free of the pajamas, drifted up to the back of his skull. He felt small spikes protrude from there. Sans frowned. He lifted himself off the floor. His right hand held shreds of Papyrus's pajamas in a death grip. He pocketed the shreds and chuckled, “Why should I hold back? After all...” Crack. Creek. Snap. Sans felt himself change. Grow. His skull elongated and became spiked at the crown of his skull. His teeth grew sharper. A slit of crimson red bled into the center of his cyan eye. His voice distorted slightly, “N O T H I N G  M A T T E R S  A N Y M O R E.” Sans's transformation halted. He kept his bipedal form. His mind focused on his target. His prey. He let out a bestial roar. All his anguish. All his rage. He turned to the door. In one swift motion, he leaped out into the snow. The hunt had begun.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frisk jogged away from the town of Snowdin deeper into the underground hell. Their mind still jumbled from what they'd done. They held the knife tightly in their right hand close to their chest. It felt natural in their grip, unnervingly so. Sure, they've played with toy weapons and sticks before. But, this was real. A sharp knife initially used for cooking, but turned into a tool of destruction. No. Frisk's thoughts rejected the notion. The knife was not a tool of destruction, but one of protection.

Frisk's mind tore away from their muddled thoughts. They realized there had been a strange noise behind them for a while. Cautiously, they turned their head back. They saw Flowey had extended his vines along the snow behind them. Frisk raised a brow. “Um... what are you doing?” Flowey rolled his eyes. “I'm covering your tracks, obviously. It'll give us a little more time. Hopefully enough to make it to the river.” Frisk looked over to their left. They could see the river yet there was no clear path to it. “Why the river?” “If we make it to the river, then we can skip past Waterfall. It's one of the darkest areas in the underground. It'd be harder to see the monsters sneaking around there, and with you not at your best, it'd be a bad area for you.” “...So... do I just swim thro-” Flowey cut Frisk off sharply but didn't raise his voice, “No! Don't ever go into the water!” Flowey's face went in front of Frisk's. “If I get untangled from you for even a second in the water, everything in the water will know you're there!” Frisk yelped, startled by Flowey's face close to theirs. They skid to a stop in the snow. They shook and brought their arms close to their chest. Their knife close to Frisk's and Flowey's faces. Flowey looked at the knife with contempt. He extended a vine to slowly push the knife away. “Urg! And be careful with that! I don't want to be cut and if you cut yourself, we're in a lot of trouble!”

Flowey growled in annoyance as his face went back to his perch on Frisk's left shoulder, “Geez. I thought you were smarter than this, Chara.” Frisk mirrored Flowey's annoyance. They muttered, “I'm not Chara.” Flowey shook his head. “Look like Chara. You move like Chara. You use a knife like Chara. What else do you need to make you see you're Chara?” Frisk paused. They took a deep breath. The cold air calmed their aggravation. Their arms relaxed to their side, all except the grip on the knife. “...Why don't you tell me about them? Not about how they fight. What were they like? How did you two know each other?” Flowey frowned. Memories flooded back to him. Memories of another life. Memories he'd forgotten for the sake of survival. How 'he' found Chara. How 'his' family took them in. Protected them. Trained them. Their crying face when they received their locket. Everything that would bring warmth, Flowey felt nothing but bitterness towards. Truly, memories of another life. He broke away from the momentary daze with a sigh. “Let's just say I was... different back then. I found Chara, they fell into the underground exactly where you fell.” Frisk's eyes widened as Flowey continued, “I was an idiot. I protected them, so they became strong. But, we couldn't fight back against everyone when monsterkind found out about them. They had this crazy idea to free those who helped them... and it got us both killed-” “Wait, you died?!”

Before Flowey could respond, the two heard a bestial roar in the distance. In the direction they had run from. Frisk turned to the source of the roar. A chill ran down their spine. Flowey snapped, “What are you doing?! Run!” Frisk didn't hesitate. They turned away from Snowdin and bolted. Flowey retracted his vines. “No point now. Just get to the riverside path!” Frisk's eyes darted to their left. They could barely make out a path in the distance, partially masked by shrubbery and snow. “There?” “That's it! Hurry!” Large footfalls echoed in the distance behind them. Frisk already knew what it was and fought against looking back. Flowey nearly did so, but quickly turned his gaze forward again as Frisk approached the path. A few steps from the path, Frisk and Flowey heard a distorted voice behind them, “T H E R E  Y O U  A R E!”

The sounds of heavy footfalls in the snow disappeared. Confused, Frisk slowly turned their head back to find where the sound had gone. But, Flowey was no fool. His petals stood on end once the sound of footfalls vanished. He knew what was coming. He whipped a vine out and grabbed the trunk of a nearby tree. With great effort, he pulled Frisk and himself towards the tree. Just in time to hear the familiar sound of teleportation from above where they were. In the next moment, Sans crashed into the snow where Frisk previously stood. Frisk screamed at the sudden noise behind them. The force of Flowey's pull and the minor shock wave of the crash sent Frisk onto the path to the river. They crashed onto the chest with a thud, the knife flat against them and the snow. Flowey growled, “Get up! You're supposed to protect me! Not the other way around!” With mild assistance from Flowey's vines, Frisk returned to their feet. They continued to flee towards the riverside. “What do we do?!” “Ring the bell, then jump on the boat!” “Boat?!” Sans growled as he realized he missed his target. He grinned madly. “Clever brat.” He stood. His gaze locked onto his target. He teleported again. This time he appeared on the riverside path, ahead of Frisk. Frisk screamed. They slid in the snow before they turned away from the path to the only way left; the entrance to Waterfall. Sans chuckled, “What's wrong? Scared to get your just deserts?” Tears budded from Frisk's eyes from the fear. Their voice wavered, “W-why does he look like that? Is that really Sans?!” Flowey growled, “The short answer is he's giving into his instincts. The river's out.” Flowey extended a few vines up to the cavern entrance to Waterfall. He wrapped into the cracks of the stone best he could. “So, we gotta hide.” Flowey began to pull himself and Frisk towards Waterfall. Sans roared, “You're not going A N Y W H E R E!” A blaster appeared above Sans. It fired at the stones Flowey's vines were planted in. Flowey cried out in pain as the ends of his vines burned off. He retracted what he could and curled deep onto Frisk's arm. Frisk hissed as Flowey dug his thorns deeper into their skin. In the next moment, they felt gravity take hold. They curled in on themselves to brace for the impact. All the while, thanks to the blaster's beam, stones began to fall from the cave's ceiling. Before Sans could react, Frisk had already fallen to the ground, as well as the stones. He smirked at the happy coincidence. He knew the kid would at least be injured if the rocks didn't kill them. Sans slowly walked toward the rubble. After all, what more could the brat do at this point?

In the midst of the rubble, Frisk groaned. Most of the rubble missed them, but they were struck in the head and back by fist-sized rocks. Their head spun. It was difficult to breathe as the impact winded them. But every muscle in their body screamed out one command. Escape. Frisk pulled themselves out of the rubble and crawled on their stomach. They hissed quietly when they pulled with their left arm. Flowey did little but hiss at his own pain. The rubble blocked out most of the light that normally poured into the cavern. Frisk could hear the water, but could not see it. They could only drag themselves closer to the sounds of rushing water. Their only source of navigation. They heard Flowey speak in a whisper, “Chara? What are you doing?” Frisk shushed him and continued to crawl. After a few moments, they felt water. Flowey's voice grew in concern, but stayed quiet, “Water? Wait, Chara! You have to get out! There's a ledg-” Before Flowey could continue, Frisk pulled most of their body into the stream. Only then did Frisk feel there was not much room around them in the water. There was ground to their left, but to their right, there was naught but water. The current pulled them into the water and Frisk no longer felt the ground. Only water and the feeling of the current, or was it gravity? Frisk couldn't tell. They went to scream, but water drowned out any scream they could make. They closed their mouth quickly, desperate not to drown. In the darkness, Frisk lost all sense of where they were. They closed their eyes to keep the water from stinging their eyes. Even with their eyes open, there were only tiny points of light, not enough to pierce the darkness.

Sans approached the rubble, unaware Frisk had slipped away. With a cursory glance, he did not notice Frisk, but he grinned at the scent of the human. He gripped one of the boulders and, with some effort, tossed it out of the way. He moved a few before he noticed a small stain of fresh blood on the ground. Human blood. Sans jumped at the spot. Without any thought or hesitation, he lapped up the blood in a few licks. Once lapped up, he realized Frisk wasn't there. With some of the cave-in removed, the light from Snowdin poured into the cavern entrance. With it, Sans noticed a small trail of blood that led beyond the light. He noticed the trail wasn't drops of blood, but a smudged thin trail. The brat was injured and dragged themselves. A final pathetic attempt at escape. Sans followed the trail and lapped up the stains as he went. Though his mouth watered at the taste, he did not pause to savor it. He only paused once he saw where the trail had led. A cliff with a waterfall, one that was underground until it reached the cliff. Sans's eyes widened. He dashed to the cliff and peered down into the darkness. Nothing could be seen. Nothing to be heard other than the echoed sound of water next to him. The brat was gone. Escaped. He gritted his teeth. A low growl escaped through it. He squatted, ready to jump into the abyss after his prey. But, he stopped himself. His survival instincts kicked in. Even in this form, he wasn't invincible. His eyes had not adjusted to the darkness, and his teleportation was useless without a visual of where he would land. And with the echoed sounds of water around him, using sound would be useless as well. Instead, Sans stood back to his new full height. He jumped into the shallow pool of water next to him. He stomped and kicked the water in petulance. Determined to take his rage out on something, where nothing could be found. His growls never ceased. But, some tears peaked in the corners of his sockets. Sorrow that he had failed to avenge his brother.

Yet. That keyword brought Sans back to reality. His tantrum subsided and he stood still in the water. He hadn't avenged his brother yet. As long as he lived, Sans still had a chance to avenge Papyrus. After all, there was only a finite area to run. Sans grinned impishly at the brat's futile errand. He began to walk the path into Waterfall. Slowly, his new eyes adjusted to the darkness. Both were cyan with slits of red. Though these eyes glowed, it was not enough to pierce beyond a few feet in front of him. But said gaze was focused. Determined. He chuckled huskily, “You can't run forever, you dirty brother killer.”

#predatortale #undertale au #undertale predator au #undertale fresh meat #dirty brother killer #fresh meat dirty brother killer #sans #frisk #flowey #chapter 2 #fanfic #fanfiction

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Request for @randomstuff7739

I wanted to make it look like mercyplates Papyrus because honestly, that shocked, slightly scared expression of confusion and maybe even disbelief instantly made me think of the yandere m!a over on the ask blogs. Trying to draw Paps' expression in the hdp style was not working out so I just did it my way. Not that I actually know what 'my way' is. It keeps changing.

Handplates/mercyplates belongs to @zarla-s

#gaster pulling out a rope #literally at that moment #where did he even get rope #heck if i know #my art #papyrus #handplates #mercyplates #ask blog #requests #asks #expression meme #the skull shape is a little off but whatever #omg :0 it's actually got colour for once! #the sockets are purposefully whited out #not sure if they're really glowing #or if it's just like those couple times in the comic #like when he first saw the house #digital #fanart

[2goth2moth]

Any sort of smut with a naga or feral mothman like creature please and thank you

Anon, you said "naga" and my lil scaly heart got so happy. I have no idea if this is even remotely in the realm of what you were looking for, but I just couldn't shake the idea of a human prince with a harem full of monsters. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Prince's Favour (M!Naga x M!Reader, NSFW)

For reference: Enéas is a Brazilian rainbow boa. I was 100% going to have a blowjob scene in this but rainbow boas have backwards hooked teeth (think fishhooks) that are designed to not let things back out, and having that near your dick sounds like a very bad time.

Word count: 3514

Includes: Power dynamics (prince x concubine), non-human genitalia, rough sex, double penetration, a little bit of crying

Being the youngest prince in a kingdom with a still-living king could be overwhelmingly boring. Matters of state were passed to your parents and eldest sister, matters of security to your next oldest sibling, infrastructure and agriculture to the next oldest, twin brothers. Your bloodline was long and vital, which was very good for the kingdom’s longevity. It was not so good for keeping you occupied. Your role, as well as your youngest sister’s, ended up being almost completely performative, with official duties being limited to keeping up a royal education and looking pretty beside your family during public appearances. The whole arrangement left you with a lot of free time to eat and draw and lounge about.

And have sex.

It was normal for royalty to have lovers or harems, if they wanted to and their spouses were okay with it. You yourself had several lovers, all of whom you enjoyed and cared about deeply. One of whom was currently lounging invitingly on your bed as you did your best to capture his likeness in paint.

“Enéas, beloved, can you hold still for me?”

The naga groaned, the muscular coils of his body shifting slightly as he did. “I’ve been sitting for hours now. When you called me, I didn’t think it would be for this.”

“Ten minutes, then we can do something else. I swear.”

The look that he shot you was long-suffering, but he settled back into the purposefully relaxed position you had directed him into earlier after taking a sip from the goblet beside him.The whole thing was mostly an act. You had been summoning him to your chambers to sit for this painting on a regular basis for the past month, and no matter where the sessions ended (often with you wrapped firmly in his powerful body), you never put on any airs about what those first few hours would entail.

Golden sunlight shone through gauzy curtains and spilled onto Enéas’ skin, setting the scales ablaze. The round black marks that lay over red scales the colour of baked clay were already beautiful, but under the sun’s rays he was cast in a rainbow sheen, every scale shimmering like an oil slick. The creamy scales of his underbelly flowed from his face all the way down, flashing like pale moonlight between his darker coils. Naga rarely wore clothing, they had no real need to, but Enéas had certainly developed a taste for finery during his time in the palace. Fine, sheer cotton, dyed snowy white and rich yellow, draped around him like woven light, held in place by gold clasps. Cuffs set with precious stones circled on his wrists and biceps, and a beautiful metal collar engraved with intricate patterns lay flat against his throat.

“You’re staring, little prince.”

The rasping taunt broke you out of your stupor, and you realized that your eyes had been locked on him, paintbrush unmoving on your canvas. You finished the stroke you had started with a careful flick. Stepping back a little, you surveyed what you had done so far. The hours spent on the portrait had been worth it, and even though it wasn’t done, you could stand to be finished for the day.

“I was distracted,” you said. “You were distracting me.”

A cheeky grin split Enéas’s face. It was hard-edged and full of sharp, hooked teeth, stretching far past what it would have on a human face, but managed to be as lovely and charming as it was frightening. “I have no idea what you mean. I was only sitting here, just like you asked me to.”

“Sitting there in a very distracting way.” You wiped your hands on the sturdy apron you wore before untying it and discarding it messily to the side. “We’re done for today, you can relax now.”

“Finally.” He stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly before flopping back and letting his eyes close. The movement sent his whole body rippling in the sunlight, and the sight made your mouth go dry.

You strode towards the bed, closing the distance quickly to sit beside Enéas on your plush bedspread. He didn’t even open his eyes when the mattress dipped under your weight. With a feather-light touch, you traced the features of his face with a thumb. The transition from red to white around what would be a hairline was first, the gradient of the small scales dipping low on his forehead and contouring under his eye sockets, the way it pulled back on his temples. The flat bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw, the mouth stretching almost the entire way along the hollows of his cheeks. He just barely leaned into every touch, doing a very good job of pretending like he didn’t care about you sitting next to him and touching him like he was something precious. Each one of his breaths fanned upwards, over your face, and it smelled like the sweet lime cordial he drank moments before.

Your thumb continued its path around his face until it caught on the center on his bottom lip. One of his eyes drifted open, pupil an inky slit on yellow-green sclera, and he parted his lips just enough for his long, forked tongue to flicker out. It wound around the digit, brushing against your knuckles and the sensitive skin between your fingers. Cold spit cooled even further on your skin as Enéas licked over your hand. In a single swift movement he dipped his head forward to take your thumb fully in his mouth. You froze. His lips tightened around it and he sucked, tongue still working you over. You could feel your cock start to fill and you pressed in and down, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the floor of Enéas’ mouth. A low, raspy moan rumbled through him, eyes fluttering closed and back arching prettily.

Putting more pressure on his mouth, you hooked your thumb behind the bone of his lower jaw and forced it down, exposing hooked teeth and making his tongue loll. “Get me ready, beloved, and be thorough.” You leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the edge of his scaly jaw. “I want both of them today.”

Enéas’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown wide in excitement and arousal, and he flickered his tongue out over your skin again before pulling you down next to him with firm hands. Those same hands didn’t hesitate to begin roaming over your body, making quick work of the fastenings keeping your tunic and trousers closed before pulling his own scant clothing off.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” he said. The sound was already breathless, and sounded so beautiful that it hurt.

He stripped you of your clothing with an impossible combination of speed and reverence, each touch against your skin burning with affection. Pushing you fully onto your back, he slithered around you, smooth scales dragging against your increasingly bare skin until you lay cradled in his strong coils. A heavy tail coaxed your legs apart as large hands began mapping a path down your body. They skimmed over your throat and chest, pausing to tease each of your nipples to full hardness, and drifted lower, caressing your waist and stomach, scratching soft patterns onto your hips and buttocks, before landing on your thighs. His cool, clever mouth soon followed. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss landed above your pulse, then the base of your neck, trailing cold saliva over your shoulders and down your breastbone. You moaned quietly, unbidden, and your back arched up off the bed, eyes fluttering closed. Your world narrowed to sensation: the chill on your skin, the plush mattress underneath you, the smooth rasp of scales around you. Enéas’ hands lovingly massaging your thighs.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp when you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples. You could feel his smile against your skin as he suckled on the hardened nub. A little jolt went through you as those wicked teeth grazed over the delicate skin, your cock twitching where it now lay fully erect on your belly. One of his hands wandered up to play with the flushed head, dipping into the pre-cum pooling under it before raising his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Gripping his chin, you dragged his face up to meet yours. “I believe I told you to prepare me, Enéas.” The way you said his name managed to land somewhere between sweetly teasing and bitterly displeased. “We may be lovers, but I am still a prince. This may have been my mistake, though, maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you.” You pulled him up further, tucking your mouth beside his ear so that you could whisper directly to him. “Prepare me, my love, and do it nice and thorough. After you’re done, you will fuck me, with both cocks, until I can’t speak or until you fill me with your cum. Whichever comes later. Am I understood?”

Enéas smiled, pupils completely dilated, and dipped his head down to kiss you. It was salty and bitter from your pre-cum, with the barest hint of the lime cordial underneath. “As you wish, my prince.”

He sat back and lowered himself so that he was lying on his front between your legs. The coil of his body that had been pressing one of your legs open dug in harder, pulling your thigh even further out, and he threw your other leg over his shoulder to get better access between your cheeks. His big hands dug in and pulled them apart, exposing your tight hole to the air of the room. He breathed over it, pressing wet, biting kisses onto the supple flesh of your ass before slipping his tongue out and running it all the way from your hole to your balls. The long, slender fork in the muscle wrapped around you, almost delicately, spreading cold saliva over your balls and the base of your shaft. The chill was a brief shock against your skin that sent sparks zipping through you, making you drop your head back onto the mattress and forcing your breaths out in stuttering pants.

Enéas continued alternating between licking at your rim, just barely breaching the ring of muscle with the tips of his tongue, and suckling gently at your sac, each motion drawing desperate little noises out of you. It felt wonderful, but it was nowhere near enough. Somewhere in your mind you had a brief argument with yourself about whether it would be worth it to abandon all semblance of power and control that you had in order to grind your hips back on his face. On one hand, you were royalty, even splayed naked on your bed, and you liked to hold onto that for as long as you could. On the other, the feeling of his cool scales and wet, fluttering tongue was very rapidly driving that particular thing down your list of concerns.

All of that was wiped from your mind when you felt the blunt tip of one of Enéas’ fingers, slicked with oil from a vial he must have hidden somewhere on him when he started moving. It circled your hole slowly, deliberately, pressing just inside every so often, coaxing the muscle to loosen with practiced care. You wanted to squirm, to tense up under the teasing touches, but you forced yourself to breathe through it and relax as much as possible. This earned you a raspy noise of approval and a kiss to your sensitive inner thigh from your naga lover.

Seconds later, it also earned you one of his gloriously thick fingers carefully worked all the way inside you. Your back curved off the bed, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. He pumped it in and out a few times, just starting to open you up enough for him to continue. As soon as you relaxed, unconscious fists unclenching from the bedspread, a second finger, thick and wet with oil, joined the first. He twisted the two about inside you. Each motion dragged the subtle ridges of his scales along your inner walls, and when he crooked his knuckles deep inside you, you arched up with a breathless moan.

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Enéas’ head emerged from between your legs, and he smirked at you as he began scissoring his fingers, stretching your rim, brushing up against the spot of blinding pleasure on every thrust. “Well, Your Royal Highness? Am I pleasing you now?”

“You would be pleasing me more if you got on with it,” you snarked at him. He grinned back at you, the tremor in your voice and the way that your whole body had begun quivering betrayed your pleasure too much for him to ever believe that you were honestly upset.

“As my prince wishes.”

He raised himself so that he was braced overtop of you, and he rubbed the head of his upper dick over your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him teasing his cocks erect and out of the slit that usually kept them hidden, but it wouldn’t surprise you if that was what he had been doing with his other hand while prepping you. A sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth was the only warning you got before he pushed into you with near-maddening gentleness. His cocks were more slender than the average human’s, but they were longer, and were covered with nubby barbs of flexible cartilage that caught deliciously inside you whenever he pulled back. He started rocking his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke, dick not close to filling you up but the barbs stimulating you plenty all on their own. You moaned slightly each time he drew back, cock leaking even more pre-cum between your bodies. Waiting until he was fully seated inside you, body flush against your ass, he began gently massaging your hole, the muscle already stretched tight around him. He moved his fingers in sync with his shallow thrusts, slowly but surely opening your hole enough for him to slip his second cock inside.

You were moaning even more loudly now, shuddering noises of pleasure leaving your lips every time Enéas fucked into you or pressed in on your entrance. His finger disappeared from your skin briefly after a particularly rough thrust left you panting and teary-eyed. You whined at the loss, wriggling further back on his dick. Another rough drive of his hips sent your back arching painfully, mouth dropping open as his index finger slipped into you alongside his shaft.

“Nngg, ah-- fuck, so-oo good,” you mewled.

Enéas started fucking into you with even more ferocity, making your whole body move every single time his hips slammed into your ass. Your cock slapped up onto your stomach with an obscenely wet sound, and left wet smears of clear fluid on your skin each time it hit you. The sounds coming out of you were starting to sound desperate, morphing from regular moans of pleasure to pitiful little whimpers and gasps. You were so overwhelmed by the way that his cock reached so deep inside you and caught so gloriously coming back out that you didn’t even notice a second fingertip tease your rim. You didn’t notice it until the smoothly scaled digit thrust into you alongside his first one. The feeling of it, the stretch of your rim definitely painful now, ripped a shattered cry from you.

Your whole body was tensed up, chest heaving with panting breaths. “Oh shit. Enéas, I’m going to…”

The hand he had been using to hold himself above you darted downwards and locked in a tight ring around the base of your steadily leaking cock. The crescendo quickly building in the pit of your stomach was stopped in its tracks, and you wailed at the blocking of your orgasm. Enéas smirked wickedly at you before lowering his mouth to graze lightly over one of your nipples.

“Patience, little prince,” he chided, “Just hold on a little longer, and you can cum on both of my cocks.”

Each word he spoke was punctuated by him driving his barbed shaft into you and scissoring his fingers wider and wider. Somewhere in the haze of your almost-climax he had stuck a third finger into your hole, and all of them were now stretching you out as far as you could go. His big arms wrapped around your back and he aggressively hoisted you upwards, forcing you to wrap your legs around his body. He slipped his fingers out of you, and almost immediately his lower cock replaced it. The shaft was thicker, the head a little more bulbous, and it filled you up so wonderfully next to his other one. Once he was fully seated, he went still to let you get used to the intense stretch inside of you. You tried to wriggle about in his arm to get him even deeper inside of you, but he used both arms to grip you tight to his body, keeping you still. That mouth of his kept lovingly licking over your chest, going slack to let saliva leak out over his lips and onto your skin.

With a firm grip on your hips and an almost painful amount of care, Enéas lifted you up until only the heads of his dicks remained inside of you. Realizing what he was about to do, you stopped writhing in his grasp, relaxing as much as the position allowed. He hissed a thanks into the thin skin above your breastbone. A slight shift of his weight so that all of his coils lay firmly beneath him, and he lowered you almost all the way down onto him. He pressed sweet kisses to the base of your sternum, then each of your nipples, then to the side of your throat. Settling his face into the warm crook of your neck, he began to raise and lower your along his shafts, using your body to fuck himself to completion.

This new position made his cocks reach impossibly deeper inside of you, spines rubbing against that sweet spot with each stroke. You dropped your head forward against Enéas’ shoulder, moaning loudly. With his previous fierce grip on your tortured cock gone, you felt your orgasm begin to build again. Clear pre-cum dripped out of your slick head and smeared between your bodies. He kept bouncing you on him, breath coming out ragged against your neck as he chased after his own climax.

“Holy shit-- that’s so good…”

Your mouth hung open as heat bubbled up in your gut. You tried to warn Enéas again, but all that came out was a strangled gasp of his name before you were cumming between your bodies with a cry. His sharp mouth curved into a grin pressed into the skin of your shoulder as you went boneless in his arms. He kept driving your body down onto himself mercilessly, paying no mind to your limp form. Your eyes filled with tears and drool leaked from your slackened jaw as you were driven to complete overstimulation from him using your body.

“Mmmmhh-hngg....AH!” You moaned desperately, squirming in his arms, trying to get away from the feeling of his cocks inside you that was quickly starting to get painful. Your hole was fluttering erratically around him, and the grip that Enéas had on your hips stuttered, betraying how close he was.

“My prince, I’m…” he managed to grunt out before he pulled you all the way onto his cocks and came inside of you, clutching your body close to his.

His twin dicks twitched against your sensitive walls as thick white cum spilled inside of you. You wailed at the sensation, your own spent cock trying fruitlessly to twitch erect again. Enéas held you against him for several minutes, catching his breath, before he carefully lifted you off of him and laid you down on the now-soiled sheets. The spines on his shafts caught on your puffy rim as he pulled out, making you wince. Your belly was still sticky from your own orgasm, and gobs of Enéas’s cum leaked from your hole, making you feel even filthier. You were completely and utterly fucked-out and content as you lay there in a warm stupor. Cold lips kissed away tears that you hadn’t noticed had fallen, and a hand rubbed comforting circles into the back of your neck. He shifted his body to wrap around you in heavy coils that felt safe and warm, despite his cold blood. You stayed there, cradled against his familiar body, being covered in soft kisses and soothing caresses, until the shaky aftershocks of both of your climaxes dissipated. Once they had, you curled onto your side so that you could nuzzle your face into his scaly neck,

“So?” Enéas whispered into your ear, peppering the side of your face with affectionate pecks. “Did I please you, my prince?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nibbling on his jaw slightly. “You absolutely did, beloved.”

#monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #terato #monster x human #naga #tw crying #smut #nsft #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #seriously if i see a fucking terf i'll fight you #bigots dni

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair. 

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good. 

You turned on the light. 

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around. 

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death. 

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television. 

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue. 

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all. 

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers. 

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily. 

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering. 

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips. 

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His  hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling. 

I do love you. 

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers. 

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile. 

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes. 

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song. 

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking. 

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi. 

Jungkook was sniffing your head. 

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

-

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

[enhypensimp1]

Raw nsfw

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

↝ Jay x Reader

↝ warnings: unprotected sex, explicit language

↝ nearly 2.1k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You were cuddled up against Jay, sat comfortably on his lap while a movie played in front of you. The boys had been practicing nonstop all week, so you decided to organise a cute movie night for all of them going out to buy food and snacks while waiting for them to come back. The sofa was too small for everyone, so you gladly took a seat on your boyfriend, Jay, and Sunoo and Niki were stuck clinging to each other on the floor under a mound of blankets, you were surprised their eyes were still in their sockets from how immersed they were in the movie. You found them adorable, they were like yours and jay’s kids.

After half an hour of the movie boredom took over you. This definitely wasn’t the most interesting movie you had ever watched but you didn’t want to disturb the other boys around the living room. You looked up at Jay, removing your head from his chest where it was previously resting to admire his features from the angle below. You honestly had no idea how you could get so lucky having the most amazing boyfriend ever and gaining six wonderful friends along with him.

“Stop staring at me creep” he grinned down at you pressing a light kiss to your forehead. You grabbed his chin and pulled him down to meet your lips, lingering slightly longer than you intended. Your cheeks flushed when you tried to move away, and he snaked a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. For a second you forgot you were still surrounded by the members, but your little moment was cut short when a pillow was thrown at both of you.

“you guys are so gross” “get a room” everyone started shouting when they realised what you and Jay were up to, you couldn’t help but laugh at their reactions.

No matter how much you tried to focus on the movie you were so bored and the feeling of Jay underneath you was making your mind go places it shouldn’t considering you were in a room with his whole group. You decided to play a little harmless game, one you like to call how far can Jay be teased until he punishes you. Shifting a little in his lap, you grounded your ass down onto his crotch, making his hands grip your hips tightly, warning you to stop. “What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered in your ear. You cocked your head to the side, the most innocent look plastered on your face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You kept shifting on him, purposefully applying pressure each time onto his growing boner until he couldn’t help but let out a low groan. You were lucky the blanket covered all of your movements because you couldn’t help but gasp when you felt Jays hand travel up your thigh.

He moved your hair from one side of your neck to other and uttered “in two minutes you’re going to say you need the bathroom and go to the bedroom to wait for me, and you’re going to do it because you don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.” A shiver went down your spine, mind clouded with thought of all the different things he could do to you if he didn’t obey what he said.

So logically, two minutes later you excused yourself from the room and made your way to the bedroom, knowing you were already in for a punishment and not wanting to risk any more. Jay followed shortly after, not even giving you enough time to close the door behind you before he had you pressed up against the wall trapping you between his arms.

"Did you think you could get away with your little game" he deepend his voice, trailing a finger across your jawline. You stayed silent, the brat in you and the obedient angel inside you fighting to come up with a response.

"Don't make me force an answer out of you" he breathed down your neck, the tone of his voice alone making you weak in the knees. "N-no I'm sorry" you bit your lip meeting his gaze. "Now that's what I thought."

He attached his lips to yours in a heated kiss, pressing up further against you into the wall. He held your thigh against his hip while you snaked your arms around his neck pulling him deeper. You hadn't felt him this riled up in a while and it was exhilarating. He sucked on your lower lip slightly, eliciting a moan out of you and using the opportunity to slide his tongue in. Your mind was in a state of complete emptiness focusing solely on the feeling of his hand making it's way under your shirt, leaving a fiery trail on every part of you he touched. He reached down trailing kisses on your neck while he let go of your thigh, moving his hand to touch your already soaked panties, a soft sigh leaving your lips from the pleasure. 

He walked away for a second to get a condom, rummaging through his drawers. “Fuck I ran out” he sighed running a hand through his hair looking at you with desperation. You walked up to him with a sly smile looking straight into his eyes “Jay I’m on the pill.” He raised an eyebrow looking down at you. “Look at my smart girl” he grinned and not a second later he had you lifted around his waist walking towards the bed.

Things picked up right where you left off, you pulling his shirt off him while he discarded of your pants desperate for each other. He trailed kisses between your chest, slowly removing your underwear, sliding a finger between your folds, a soft moan leaving your lips. 

“You have to be quiet baby the boys are down the hall.”

“Then stop teasing me-” you felt his finger enter you just as you said that, whining at how fast he was going. He placed his mouth on yours kissing you deeply trying to prevent you from making any loud noises as he added another finger, curling it inside you.  Soon enough you felt a tight ball form in your stomach slowly coming undone beneath him. He noticed you were close from the way you uncontrollably clenched around his fingers. He removed them, the feeling in your stomach disappearing and you let out a frustrated whine glaring at him and his stupid satisfied smile. 

“That’s for thinking you could get away with teasing me in front of my members.”

He began to unbuckle his belt as you watched him with anticipation. His member was so constricted in his pants you almost wondered if he was in pain. The thought of entering you raw excited him to no end, imagining what it would feel like to properly feel every single part of you and every single way your body reacted to him. Precum already leaked from his tip, his head filled with the dirtiest of thoughts as he aligned himself with your entrance slowly pushing his head in, a soft moan leaving your lips as you reveled in the feeling of him stretching you out.

He pushed further and further watching the way he disappeared into you until he bottomed out, “fuck how are you so tight” he practically cried out realising how hard it was going to be to stay quiet knowing his members were just down the hall. You nodded at him telling him to move and he couldn’t contain himself, pulling all the way out just snap his hips back into your, loving the way he can feel the wetness surrounding him and how your velvety walls encased his throbbing dick. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, his hand quickly flying to cover your mouth, keeping it there while he thrusted in you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, biting down on his hand when you felt his dick brush the edge of your cervix at how deep he was inside of you. Jay leaned down burying his head in your neck lightly biting down on your shoulder to prevent himself from losing control and letting everyone in the building know how good your pussy was and just how well he was fucking you. You guys really picked the worst possible day to go raw for the first time, wanting nothing more than to scream Jays name, the hand placed firmly on your mouth hindering you from making any noise.

You knew neither of you were going to last as long as you usually do already feeling yourself clench around him, the tight ball reforming in your stomach, every vein and twitch his member made was so prominent it made you go crazy. Him being buried in your warmth made his cock pulse, lifting your leg to get a new angle, trying to chase both of your releases. The new position made him hit your clit with every thrust going deeper than you thought was even possible hitting a certain spot inside you that made you simply see stars. You couldn’t help it, after being quiet for so long you needed some kind of relief moaning “ah… fuck Jay” slightly louder than you intended, biting your lip to hold back from saying any more. He also became more vocal fucking you into the mattress addicted to the feeling of him inside you.

He pulled you into his chest feeling your legs begin to shake signaling that you were almost there as he picked up the pace letting out low groans in your ear only for you to hear. “You’re so good to me” he whispered, and that was all you needed to be sent over the edge, nails digging into his back as you let out small cry of relief into his shoulder while he chased his own high. You clenched particularly hard making him hiss, his hips sputtering into your painting your walls white with his cum as he stilled in you. You brought his face to yours kissing him passionately to try and drown out the moans that were leaving his lips.

You felt every stream of cum filling you up beautifully, unable to stop clenching around him at the feeling. He laid you back down slowly pulling out of you, making you squirm as the cold air began to hit you. Jay went to his bathroom for a moment coming back with a wet towel to clean you up and a can of air freshener to try and get rid of the smell of sex that filled the room, erasing any evidence of your activities in case the members came in later.

"We should do that more often".

You laughed at him pressing an innocent kiss to his cheek before whispering “I love you” into his neck. A playful smile took over his face, his demeanor much different to how he was a few minutes ago, drawing little circles on your arm.

“Now are you glad I distracted you from the movie?”

“That’s a tough one I really liked that movie”.

You hit his chest while he laughed at you. Soon the tiredness caught up to so you snuggled closer to him, his chin resting on your head as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep. He softly caressed your face moving the strands of hair that were covering your eyes before pressing a kiss to your head and following you in dreamland.

A few minutes later the movie ended, and the members piled into the room gagging at the sight of Jay being absolutely whipped for you.

“They’re disgusting” Sunoo scrunched his nose at the two of you.

“Yeah, but I guess they’re kind of cute” Jake smiled at how the older was clinging to you.

Heeseung already planned a million ways to tease Jay the next morning having heard a lot of what happened, but for now, he ushered everyone out of his room telling them to go to sleep.

#jay smut #jay x reader #jay enhypen #enhypen #enhypen blog #suggestive #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop blog #smut #enhypen smut #park jongseong #jongseong imagines

[script-nef]

Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother. 

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not. 

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him. 

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan. 

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often. 

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter. 

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice. 

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths. 

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?” 

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him. 

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest. 

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor. 

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

[spxllcxstxr]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Request: maybe a blurb where the reader is dating Remus and one day, they randomly decide to miss classes and go on a date instead. maybe a walk, so it’s super simple but they talk about their life - their future and that makes it romantic. basically a fluff. lkshda I don’t know I just want him to hold my hand and kiss my forehead. Love your writing! — anon and hii, you asked for more remus requests and as a remus simp i just had to comply. i'd love to see more one shots that show both sides of remus: the softy, cuddly boy and the sassy, snarky comments king. so maybe have a moment where he's being cute with the reader and the immediate other they're sassing each other off and that's just how their relationship works :) — @moonysimpp

Summary: You skip a class and plan a wedding

Warnings: brief weed mention, skipping class, a little suggestiveness?, talks about marriage, no mention of Voldy/the war

Word Count: 1.4k

A.N: At first, I wasn’t going to combine these two requests...but I made Remus both snarky and soft so I thought why not? I hope that’s ok with the two of you, I feel like it just worked out well this way. As always, let me know what you think and love you all ❤️

Title: The Beach Boys - Wouldn’t it be Nice (I just got this vibe immediately after reading the request)

****

“Have I gone completely mental, or is the Remus John Lupin actually asking me to skive off History of Magic?”

Remus stands across from you, leaning his shoulder against a stone pillar, red and gold tie prim and proper, hands buried deep in the pockets of his slacks. His eyes lazily roll at your theatrical gasp.

“And in our N.E.W.T. year!” You continue, dramatically clutching your chest. “What a naughty boy you are, Lupin. Can’t believe Minnie ever made you a Prefect!”

He raises an eyebrow at you, the right one, with the white jagged scar cutting it in half like a bolt of lightning.

“Are you done yet, love?” He casually asks, amused by your antics.

“Am I done?” You repeat, shocked. “My bad influence of a boyfriend is trying to get me to play truant!”

He snorts at your claim knowing full well you and Sirius skipped Herbology yesterday to get high behind Hagrid’s hut. No one was a bad influence on you except yourself, and everybody knew it.

“C’mon, Lily’ll take notes for us.” Remus takes a hand out of his pocket and rubs the back of his neck. The very simple and casual action has your heart fluttering.

“Oh, yeah.” The red head beside you scoffs. “‘Lily’ll take notes for us.’” She mocks in a lower voice to imitate Remus’. “Y’know, as Head Girl, I should be taking points away from you, Remus.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you, Lily.” Remus chuckles, reluctantly dragging his body away from the wall and closer to the two of you. He brings his index finger to the bottom of his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Who was it again that let you off when you and James got caught in the Prefect’s bathroom—“

Your friend’s face gets drenched in deep red embarrassment. Her eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. “We agreed to never speak of that, Remus.” Lily’s voice is deadly serious as she interrupts his thought.

Everybody in the entire castle and their pets knew all about how Remus walked in on something happening between James and Lily in the Prefect’s bathroom in December, but nobody except the three of them knew the exact story. It was considered major drama in the castle and even after months, people are still whispering about it.

He smirks at her bright and flustered face before turning his triumphant gaze onto you.

“So, you joinin’ me, love?” Remus asks, his hand outstretched towards you.

You always had trouble saying no to Remus Lupin.

“Hm, spend time with my boyfriend or be put to sleep by Binns’ awful monotone lecture? What a hard choice.” You snark before immediately grabbing at his hand and interlacing your fingers.

“Thought so, love.” Remus cockily voices, still smirking.

Remus’ lips briefly connect to your hairline in a kiss before he starts pulling you outside.

You barely have enough time to call out a goodbye to your friend before you’re scampering to keep up with Remus and his extremely long legs.

The air is cool against your skin, when you first step out onto the grounds. It’s crisp and clear and it beats sticking around in the musty castle. Students with all different colored robes dart around you, trying to make it to their classes in time.

“So what do you have planned for us on this fine day, Rem?” You ask, sauntering down the green rolling hills, occasionally purposefully bumping into his shoulder.

“Ah, I don’t have anything planned exactly.” He admits, thumb stroking your hand as the two of you pass Hagrid’s hut. “Just wanted to be with you. And not go to class, of course.”

“Wanted to get me alone, hm?” You tease, swatting lightly at his shoulder.

You can practically hear his eyes roll around in his sockets, something he does frequently since he has to deal with both you and his four other best friends. You don’t think there’s been a day since first year when his eyes haven’t made their rounds.

“You’re positively obnoxious, y’know that?”

You’re stepping over the plants and underbrush making up the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, trying not to get your foot submerged in mud.

“Yeah, but you love me.” You tell him, trying to balance on a fallen tree branch.

“Eh...” Remus shrugs, watching you maneuver around a twisting vine.

You narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out at him as a response.

He takes you to the spot Kettleburn usually lets his Hippogriffs roam around between lessons, a large clearing with some boulders and tree stumps to sit on.

The Forbidden Forest is beautiful in the soft May sunlight.

The leaves are lush and green, alive with various creatures noisily chatting away with each other. You hear the faint trampling and pounding of hooves off in the distance. Sweet scents of spring flowers drift through the breeze, relaxing your tense muscles.

The Forbidden Forest is even more beautiful when you’re supposed to be listening to the ghostly form of Professor Binns drone on and on about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 in a stuffy old classroom.

Your back leans up against the rough bark of the nearest tree. It digs into your back and probably dirties your robes but you find that you don’t mind at all.

Eyelids flutter shut and you inhale the cool air deeply to ease your mind. The rustle of leaves from the gentle breeze and the chirping of surrounding creatures fills you with a sense of comfort.

Slowly, you open your eyes to see Remus sitting on a large dark boulder, gazing at you intently.

“Do you think Dumbledore would let us get married here?” You ask dreamily, observing the pale yellow sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Even from this distance, you can tell Remus’ body goes rigid.

“M-married?” He sputters meekly. “Is this a proposal? Are you proposing to me right now?”

Remus jumps from his seat, robes billowing behind him as he anxiously strides towards your spot.

“Do you want it to be a proposal?” You cock your head to the side.

“No!” He shouts, eyes wide. “I mean—fuck!” Remus continues to sputter, ears glowing pink.

You laugh at his fluster. “Relax, Remus, I know what you meant.”

“Oh thank Godric.” Remus huffs out a laugh before pressing his own back to the tree next to yours. “Just give me a few years and I’ll buy you a ring, love.”

“Well now I’m just excited.” You giggle, admiring how he’s carefully turning his head to survey the clearing.

The pale jagged lines of his scars dully glimmer in the rays of sunshine that make their way through the treetops. It’s almost angelic.

“It would be nice to get married here, wouldn’t it?” You hear him murmur, more to himself, you suspect.

“Just how many wizards you reckon been married in the Forbidden Forest?” You chuckle. “Darling, I think we’re obligated to be the first.”

Remus shakes his head fondly at the notion. His head lulls back to face you, eyebrow raised.

“Oi, you don’t need to convince me. Dumbledore’s the one you ought to ask.”

“Ah, he’s a softy.” You wave away his thought. “We’ll be fine.”

Remus raises his arms like he was presenting the wild and untamed forest behind him. “I don’t know love, it is called the Forbidden Forest.”

You shrug. “Well maybe they’ll rename it.”

“Oh yeah? To what?” Remus snorts, running a hand through his sandy curls.

You smile, making a grand gesture with your arms. “The Forbidden Unless You’re Remus and (Y/n) Lupin Forest.”

“Y’know what?” Remus smirks, kicking off of the tree. “I like the name change.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow as he ambled closer to your position.

“I particularly enjoy the (Y/n) Lupin part.” He places his hands on either side of your head, foreheads almost touching.

You hum in response, eyes gazing into his own honey brown ones. His eyes flick down to your lips before pressing his own to the top of your forehead.

Warmth spreads from where his lips connect with your skin, a smile instinctively growing across your face.

“Remus and (Y/n) Lupin.” He muses as he pulls away.

“Now that I think about it...” Your index finger taps against your lips in thought. “(Y/n) and Remus Lupin rolls off the tongue a bit better.”

“Whatever you say, love.” He happily sighs.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

Remus Lupin Taglist: @lunalovecroft

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #the marauders x reader

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Golf

Hannibal and cult girl have a long-overdue conversation about their future.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: slight emetophobia, threats of violence, workplace sexual harassment, sexualization of a minor, body-shaming, ED

"[F/N], wait!" Anna called after you, snatching your arm in both hands.

You pulled your arm away and seriously held back the urge to smack her across the face. "What? What could you possibly have to say?"

"You can't just storm out of a funeral like you did my wedding!" She protested. She said this as if you leaving her wedding after being purposefully triggered was the worst affront to her existence to ever happen to her. Given her sheltered life, it very likely was.

She was looking for remorse and you had none to give. "Watch me."

You shoved the heavy doors open, only to find that the room was silent. Everyone's eyes were on you. Hundreds of eavesdroppers who saw your life as their soap opera suddenly caught a glimpse of the defiant, ungrateful granddaughter.

Their faces began to loosen and they started to go back about their business. Just when you thought it was of their own volition, you felt Hannibal's hand on your shoulder. You realized you were witnessing the effect his stony glare had on the room.

You grinned and watched the crowd part in your path. For a moment, you knew what true power felt like, even if it was just vicarious.

"Why won't you give your poor grandmother what she wants?" A particularly bold onlooker blurted out. "If I had a daughter like you, I'd beat some sense into you."

Hannibal fixed his gaze on the man, but you beat him to it.

"If I had a father like you, I'd put you in a home." You snapped back.

The path to the door seemed to stretch further and further away. By the time you reached it, you were practically tugging Hannibal's arm out of its socket.

Outside, the golf course slowly turned white as larger and larger clumps of snow fell from the clouds. In the absence of sunlight, the ocean was black as ink. You suddenly felt very lightheaded. You let go of Hannibal’s hand and clutched your forehead. The courtyard began to spin. 

Hannibal gently guided you to a nearby bench before you could collapse. “Darling, are you okay?” 

You knew it wasn’t what he meant, but your physical wellbeing was far from your mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay even once in my life.” 

“You know what I mean, [F/N].” His voice was firm. “We can talk about the will in a moment, but I need to know that you’re not sick.” 

You wordlessly scooted closer to him, allowing him to examine you. 

He removed his glove and placed his bare hand on your forehead. “You are a little warm.” 

You saw what he was trying to do. You felt a bit comforted by it, but needed to assure him that you weren’t sick. “It’s twenty-five degrees outside. I think I’m going to feel a little warm comparatively.” 

“Weren’t you nauseated this morning?” He asked, feeling your cheek with the back of his hand. 

You released a breath, which froze as soon as it hit the air. “That’s what I said so I didn’t have to say what it really was.” 

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Menstrual cramps?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Those.” 

“I was a surgeon before I was a therapist, my love.” He reminded you with a soft smile. “I know what menstruation is.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, I should hope so.” 

“This is a lovely country club.” Hannibal said after a moment of taking in the view. “Not exactly to my tastes, but the view of the ocean is beautiful.” 

You leaned back in your seat. “It gets old after a while. But I always preferred seeing the golf course all snowed over.” 

“Because it meant you didn’t have to spend your school holiday doing free labor for Beatrice, right?” He asked. 

“Yep.” You said, folding your hands into your armpits to keep them from freezing up.

Theresa was seventeen, Anna was fourteen and you were ten. 

Theresa learned how to drive a drink cart before she could drive a car. She was the only one allowed to make tips, so you coveted her job. You wouldn’t have, if you knew what all those disgusting old men were saying to her as the money passed into her hand. It shocked you, how many of the club members knew the age of consent off the top of their heads. Grandma made her wear tank tops and barely-passing-for-shorts shorts. She said it was empowering to use her ‘blossoming womanhood’ to make money. 

Anna was a student athlete in middle school. She ran track and field and brought gold home to a struggling athletics department. She was made to carry bags of clubs that weighed more than she did. Grandma reduced her to a beast of burden. She said it was to work off all those carbs. That one day, she might receive the honor of taking Theresa’s place on the drink cart, and that she too could be ogled at by men four times her age. But only if she made up for all that weight she had the audacity to put on. 

You were a blank slate. A tablet to be written upon. Grandma decided that she would put you in your place before you could develop a healthy sense of self. You fished balls out of the water trap. Grimy, disgusting golf balls that would just be thrown away regardless. It was Sisyphean, spending grueling hours in the summer sun, collecting perfectly useable golf balls, only to see them tossed out without a second thought. 

“Hannibal?” You said, bringing an end to your pensive silence. 

“Yes?” He answered. 

You kept your eyes facing forward. “I’m really sorry that Beatrice took away the opportunity to have this conversation in our own time.” 

“You are not responsible for your grandmother’s actions, [F/N].” He said, softly.

“But I am responsible for getting you involved.” You bit back a sob. “You’re like, the best thing that has ever happened to me. But every time I try to look forward, my past drags me backwards. And now it’s dragging you down with me.” 

"You've clawed your way out before." He assured you. "You can do it again."

You forced a laugh. "I guess the trick is to stop telling myself that it'll be the last time."

"Would you like to have that conversation now?" He posed.

You shook your head. "You already know my stance."

"Your stance is that you don't know." He corrected.

"So what's yours?" You said, realizing you only talked about this as a doctor and patient. Never as a couple.

He looked away from you. "In the affirmative. Strongly so."

"I didn't realize you had strong feelings either way." You answered.

"Just because I don't talk about them unless asked, doesn't mean they don't exist."

"And you want to do it with me?" You asked. "Or just, in general? Like, someday?"

"Darling, I am not in the habit of planning my life in abstracts like 'someday'." He admitted. "I know what I want, I know what I don't."

"Well," You said, stretching out your legs. "What does it look like, to you?"

"We get married this summer." He recounted. "I whisk you away to Italy for a romantic honeymoon. Then, you return to school. You finish your doctorate. Once you've established yourself as an authority, gotten a job, then we settle down. We'll have a child."

You felt yourself smiling. You rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and held you tight.

"I like that. I like it a lot." You whispered. "But you know that means we probably won't get any money, right?"

Hannibal laughed. "We don't need the money."

"I know." You conceded. "But it would be nice to just... burn this whole place to the ground."

He tightened his embrace. "That could still be arranged."

"Please don't buy the golf course just so I can destroy it." You pleaded through laughs.

"Goodness, no." He shook his head. "Who said anything about buying it? I was thinking about some good, old-fashioned arson."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate #cult girl

[fatefulfaerie]

Merchant

Linktober 2021 day #28/31 (yes, it’s late)

Word Count: 639

Incarnation: The Minish Cap

Zelda accidentally threatened to yank Link’s arm out of it’s socket as she ran throughout Castle Town, pulling the hero of the Minish along with her. It was the first time she’d been here since she was petrified in stone and so she was jubilant, Link sharing in the glee after his recent victory over Vaati.

To Link, it almost seemed like nothing had changed, that they could very well still be at the Picori Festival and that the past two weeks never happened. They had a tasty lunch at the bakery, Zelda picked up her new shoes from the cobbler, they played games, they greeted townspeople, everything seemed as it was until they stopped at a bench for a moment of quiet, a moment perhaps too quiet, the things left unsaid getting louder and louder.

“We can’t go back, can we?” Zelda asked, decidedly not looking at Link. “To the way things were.”

The butterflies in Link’s stomach rose to his heart. So she’d noticed, noticed the way his smile would fade, noticed the way he wouldn’t let himself truly relax, noticed the way he had seemed to age ten years in two weeks.

Not physically, of course.

“I want to,” Link admitted. It was the innocence of childhood that they were referring to, the one that was torn away from them in the wake of Vaati’s attack. “But no…we can’t.”

Link had seen battle and Zelda had faced death. They couldn’t pretend they hadn’t.

“What will become of us?” Zelda asked. It was then that Link finally looked over, surprised.

“What do you mean?” Link asked. “We’ll still be friends, won’t we?”

Zelda looked over.

“We will?”

Link almost laughed.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Friendships grow and evolve just like we do individually, and even if that weren’t the case, I couldn’t imagine not being friends with you. The word ‘childhood’ isn’t the most important part of the phrase ‘childhood friends’, now is it?”

Zelda smiled, genuinely, excitedly.

“No,” she said. “I suppose it’s not.”

She bowed her head slightly and blushed a bit, bashful.

“I actually was going to ask…” Zelda hesitated, shaking her head to look into her lap. “It seems so childish now.”

“What is it?” Link asked, his eyes excited by the prospect. “We may know war first-hand but we can still be silly.”

Zelda was handling a small, brown pouch, turning it around and around in her fingers.

“I know you said you didn’t have a lot of kinstones left but I bought one from the Goron merchant and I was hoping…maybe….”

“Goddesses, why didn’t you say so!” Link said fumbling for his own kinstone pouch. Zelda wasn’t wrong, he only had three left. He prayed to Hylia that one of his matched hers. The tradition goes that if a kinstone match is purposefully set up to fit, than it would bring bad luck, which is why Zelda did not ask Link which ones he had before buying one. If, however, they fit by serendipity alone, then that warrants good luck for both parties. During his journey, this meant that Link was blessed with a variety of beneficial happenings across the land, but now that his journey was over, he wasn’t sure how such luck would manifest.

Zelda and Link both had a hand in their respective pouches. The princess revealed hers first, a blue half with an s-shaped curve. Link smiled, giddy.

He pulled out the matching half and paired it with hers, the two holding them together for a complete, blue medallion to forge itself together by a golden magic, before disappearing into nothing with sparkles of silver and white.

“The two kinstone pieces fit perfectly!” Zelda said. “Perhaps something good will happen.”

“Maybe,”Link said. “But nothing could be better than having you as a friend.”

#linktober #zelink #but I most just want to get these done #so I can work on other things #tease tease

[that-one-fluffy-anon]

i diid it *does li’l dance*

I actually wrote something and didn’t lose inspiration!!

CW: just general creepy stuff. closeness, pet names, and a bit o’ blood.

Now.

Without former ado.

Here is.

A MafiaTale Killer Sans Oneshot titled:

“;)))))))”

i’mgonnaregretthis

…

Oh.

Shit.

Welp. This was unexpected.

Quite honestly, you didn’t really work for a “real” mob. Just a group of people that stopped drug dealers without involving the police. You had one job- knock out a guy, steal his drugs, and leave.

But that didn’t happen.

You know what did happen?

The guy was a weapons dealer. That meant you’d been misinformed. Purposefully.

The guy was NOT the don of the mob. Just a delivery boy.

What am I forgetting? Oh yeah.

You killed him.

It was an accident! …For the most part. 

…okay maybe you’d hit a liitle harder than normal but he was an asshole so-

He’d made a VERY rude comment about your outfit, which- Jesus, that guy was horrible. So you’d punched him… and he landed against something sharp. Now he was dead.

And now the REAL weapons dealer was gonna be pissed.

Let’s refer back to your previous statement. Oh shit.

“HEY!”

Double shit-

You whipped toward the noise. A tall, broad silhouette stood against the night sky. It was blocking your exit from the alleyway.

And this looked really bad.

You BOOKED IT. Ran from the body- the guy’s weapon in hand, pushed past the shadowy person, and ran downtown- losing the other person- the ALIVE person- in the process. Thank GOD. 

…you did lose the person, right?

—

A few days later, you were taking another late night walk. 

Probably to calm your FRIED nerves.

So that guy you killed?

His boss found out.

Which meant you were gonna die.

This… particular boss was a bit of a nuisance. He had started out in another gang- then left to start his own. Something about control, you don’t know. But he had a reputation.

They say his name is “Killer”.

They say he kills whoever screws with his arms dealing.

They say you’re next.

They say so many things…. 

You were terrified. 

Apparently, that person you’d pushed past had ratted you out. 

To a fUCKING BOSS WHO WAS GONNA KILL YOU-

Okay. 

Calm down.

You leaned up against a wall. Damn, you were terrified. It only just occurred to you that..

You could easily die today. This boss could snap you in half.

Footsteps sounded. “Would you please be quiet, I’m tryin’ not to panic here.” you irritatedly said. Who the hell was out this late besides y-

You looked up.

…Shit.

It took every ounce of control you had to not scream. A skeleton, taller than you by a head, was standing there. It seemed as though his jaw was fused together. 

But that wasn’t the scariest part.

He was crying. Crying black tears from empty eye sockets...? It looked like that, anyway. Or perhaps his face had been stained by the tears, since they didn’t look steady. Whatever the case, he was terrifying.

Wearing a white button-up shirt and suspenders, he looked classy enough. Especially his driver’s hat. But… 

He still unnerved you. He was wearing an amused expression, one eyebrow- well, if he HAD an eyebrow- cocked at you. A smile with no warmth.

…An eyelight appeared in one of those sockets. It traveled up and down your body, taking in every inch. You didn’t move. How could you? 

The eyelight vanished, and he seemed to relax a bit. Whoever he was, he was rich.

…he pullled out a pocket knife. Grin never leaving his face, he started to throw it up and catch it.

“well, well. what do we have here?”

His voice… so deep it shook you to your core, velvety and laced with amusement. 

“a doll who thought they could kill one of my employees and escape without me noticing? heh.” He chuckled. …with little humor. “sorry, sweetheart. that ain’t how it works.” 

His relaxed posture became… less relaxed. He caught the pocket knife… and didn’t throw it. As he moved toward you, you pushed your back up against the wall, trying to keep away from him. He didn’t stop moving, just… kept getting closer.

He was gonna kill you. You were gonna die, you were going to die-

…he put a hand above your shoulder, pinning you to the wall.

“i noticed.”

He leaned in close to you.

You felt his breath on your neck.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

“and you ain’t gonna tell anyone, are ya?”

You shook your head an almost imperceptible amount.

“didn’t catch that.”

“N-no.” Your voice caught in the most pathetic way. Way to not show weakness.

He- he laughed.

He LAUGHED.

“aw, ya really believe that, don’t ya. ya really are th’ cutest.”

…his hand took your wrist. 

“nah, sweetheart. you’re comin’ with me.”

…you felt sick.

i’ll take good care of ya. don’t worry.”

…you hated the way you were shaking.

“ya don’t have to be so scared. you’ll be fine with me. in fact-”

His other hand traveled to behind your head, almost cradling it-

“ya might be better off.”

“I- i don’t-”

“s t o p p r e t e n d i n g y o u h a v e a c h o i c e.”

You froze. Something- something heavy- was pushing down on your chest.. An invisible weight, holding you in place.

“face it.

you’re mine.”

#killer sans #oneshot #fluff writes

[igirisuhito]

Title: Writing down all the things gone wrong Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Matsuda Yasuke Rating: Teen Summary: Upon receiving a gift from Hinata, Komaeda attempts to learn more about a student who once went to Hope's Peak academy. After a strange nightmare, he contemplates the trustworthiness of his memory. Trigger Warnings: Childhood trauma, Religious discussion (I guess?), Doctor/Patient, Medical angst, regular angst, Treatment refusal, Dementia Notes: Happy birthday Komaeda. I hope you like suffering. 

[Ao3 Link]

『••✎••』

"Hey uh, do you want this?"

Hinata's hand outstretches towards him, holding a thin paperback book between calloused fingers. It appears to be a school notebook; worn, ragged, really in a complete state of disrepair. The once white cover was now a full grey, bearing smudged writing and barely recognisable symbols. If they were symbols from any other organisation, Komaeda probably wouldn't have recognised them and asked why Hinata thought to insult him with this utter piece of trash.

"I know you like Hope's Peak memorabilia, right? This isn't really memorabilia, per say, but…" As he rambles away to himself, Hinata starts to look more and more awkward. Is he embarrassed? Ah, who wouldn't be humiliated, being seen giving such a thoughtful gift to Komaeda in an act of pity.

Before Hinata can try and make some other excuse, Komaeda reaches out, pale digits barely passing over the messy kanji. "Ry…ko… Oto…'s…"

He has to pause, squinting hard at the words. He wonders if there's a chance he's reading it wrong. "Memory notebook? Like a diary?"

Komaeda takes the notebook into his hands, accepting the gift. However, he can't suppress the grin that crosses his face as he looks back up at Hinata, the desire to tease the other just too tempting to resist. "Oh my Hinata-kun… why are you walking around with a girl's diary?"

"I-I got it from the Monomono machine, okay?!" He flushes bright red, beginning to stammer as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I-It could be a guy's!"

Doubtful, Komaeda flicks the crinkled pages open, carefully separating each one with his fingers. The way the ink is washed out on every page reminds him of when you would accidentally put a receipt through the wash, full of barely comprehensible writing and doodles. An overuse of love hearts and sparkles, however, proves his theory correct.

"Even if you didn't get it from somewhere weird... I'm not sure if it's really okay for me to accept this!" Sucking in a deep breath, Komaeda grips his elbows in order to calm himself. "There must be some incredibly bad luck waiting for me! For Hinata-kun to go out of his way to give me something so amazing… haha, I feel a little tingly just thinking about it!"

"Seriously, it's no big deal," it seems as though Hinata's face is just getting hotter, he must be truly embarrassed by how much of a fuss Komaeda is making over it. "Just take it, okay? We had a good time today."

"Well, thank you, Hinata-kun. It makes me unbearably happy that you would give me a gift like this!" Smile stretching impossibly wide, Komaeda holds the notebook close to his chest, careful not to crush it.

"Go home, Komaeda."

With an aggressive nod, he says his farewells, "Well then, I'll see you tomorrow, Hinata-kun."

And with that, Hinata turns away, already running off down the beach. He's sprinting like he's trying to escape something, though it wouldn't surprise Komaeda if he was just trying to run away from any possibility of them speaking again. Unfortunately for Hinata, their time on this island isn't nearly over, and he would have to face Komaeda once again tomorrow in Jabberwock Park.

A soft sigh slips past his lips with the thought. He glances towards the horizon, the glowing sea of orange as waves gently roll up on the shoreline. The sun is setting on another perfect day. A cool breeze plays at the strands of Komaeda's hair, knocking it into his eyes. He brings a hand to his face, tucking the loose white locks behind one ear as he glances back down towards the notebook in his hands.

"Memory notebook, huh?"

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda sits himself down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, placing his gift from Hinata at his side. It has been an unbearably long day, between spending the morning working to collect resources and the afternoon making sandcastles with Hinata, he was worn to the bone.

He leans down to undo the zips on his boots before kicking them off. As he wiggles his toes, he is overcome by the unpleasant sensation of sand sticking between them. With a groan, he begrudgingly pulls off his socks too, all too aware of the sound of the grains hitting the floorboard as he does. A mess to deal with later.

Quickly dusting off his feet, then brings them up onto the bed with him, laying back on the covers. An ache immediately begins to settle in his muscles, and a yawn forces its way out of his mouth. With the warm heat of the evening, it feels as though he could fall asleep right here and now. As pleasant as that would be, he has yet to properly examine Hinata's gift. He'd been brimming with anxious excitement to look at it the whole walk back to his cabin.

Bringing the notebook up to his side, he lays his head against the pillow and flicks it open. The first page is filled with rushed writing done in black pen, ink that has since been washed away. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely make out the characters, fill in some blanks. This is definitely a notebook once belonging to somebody going to Hope's Peak Academy.

How exciting!

He turns the page. There's a two page spread of nothing but blurry sketches and doodles, and from what he can tell, they're incredibly well done. The artist obviously had quite the knack for reproducing realistic details, honing in on fine points such as the eyes and lips.

Carefully flicking to the next page, he finds more hastily scribbled notes and drawings. It's unusual, the subject is the same in almost every occasion, and with each depiction Komaeda finds himself starting to build a better image of that person in his head.

The ballpoint scribbles illustrate a young Japanese man, bearing long shoulder length hair and meticulously detailed eyelashes. His lips are thin, often turned down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The owner of the diary was very clearly infatuated with him, and he could understand why. The man was naturally gorgeous even with such a pouty face.

And somehow, he felt strikingly familiar.

Komaeda turns through a few more pages, carefully poring over the illegible kanji and fuzzy details. No matter how hard he squints, he just can't understand what the words read, as though the information is purposefully taunting him, hanging just out of reach. With a sigh, he closes the notebook and allows his eyelids to flicker shut.

"How despairing."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

"Your dementia is progressing quickly." Crossing one leg over the other, the doctor spun around in his chair to face Komaeda.

His demeanour was… laid-back. Much too laid back for a doctor. And mean, harsh, unnecessarily cruel. It was clear on his face that he thought Komaeda was the most revolting thing he'd seen all day, and he was probably right.

"Ah, such is fate for someone as worthless as me. Perhaps I really am meant to die." He laughed softly to himself, gazing down at his lap.

"Shut up," the doctor hissed. "Are you taking your medication?"

Komaeda stared out the window, wordless in his thoughts. The sunlight streaming through the glass felt warm on his skin, unlike the chill of metal on the medical bed beneath him. It was a lovely day brimming with hope, a day he would have liked to be out there enjoying.

"It's a nice day isn't it, M̧̩̹̗͕̮̼̆̋͑a̦̮̟̠̓͜ť̇҉̺̙s̪̦̟̋ͤ̽͗͜ŭ̺͉̖̫͍̯̪ͯ̐͠d̷̬̤̹̩̱̫̻̺͊a̵̯͙͖̙̩͇͂͛̓̊-kun?"

"Huh?" The doctor blinked, before looking up from his clipboard and out the window. "What are you talking about? Answer the damn question."

He remained silent, continuing to gaze out the window at the campus below. There were students socialising, exercising, running to class. Blurs of smiling faces amongst a sea of brown, each student filled with a sense of pride. The air is filled with distant laughter and chatter. It's too quiet in the room.

"Why don't you wear the Hope's Peak Uniform?"

There was a loud clatter as the doctor's clipboard hit the floor. Before Komaeda can react, (as if he was going to), he's risen to his feet and practically pounced on the boy. The doctor's pale hands reached for his chest, securing a handful of his sweater. A soft gasp escaped his lips, being pulled forward until he came nose to nose with the doctor, warm erratic breaths coming short and fast on his lips.

His face was difficult to see when he was on the other side of the room, but Komaeda realised that distance was not the issue. Even when he was so close the details were hazy, Komaeda only barely being able to make a deep frown etched beneath his dark bangs. Every time he tried to take in more details, it was as though he were looking too closely at a painting, unable to take in the full image beyond a few brush strokes.

"I knew it. Of course you wouldn't take them." He spit, teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed. "You just think your fucking luck is going to save you, that this is all some big plan for 'hope'."

The doctor let go, allowing Komaeda to slump back into his chair. He looked distressed, unreasonably so to the point of unprofessionalism. The doctor swept back his hair, giving Komaeda a glimpse of glaring blue eyes before he pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

Komaeda couldn't help but chuckle to himself. And before he knew it, he was laughing. Laughing raucously, in a way that made his whole body shake with dread, his mind spin with despair. His fingers wound their way to his scalp and he gripped and pulled at his hair until he could see the doctor's horrified expression looking back at him.

"Hope?" The word dripped from his mouth like venom. "There is no hope in taking that. The disease is incurable! There's no point in messing with that fact! What hope is there in waking up every day sick as a diseased dog just so I can tack a few extra years of suffering onto my lifespan? Do you want me to suffer, is that it? Does the Ultimate Neurologist truly believe he can play God? That you can cure a terminal illness? It's embarrassing, you truly don't know when to draw the line, to give up on a piece of human garbage like-!"

"What the fuck would you know about God, you demented freak?!"

Komaeda bit his tongue, a sickening grin forming on his face.

"You think some God is going to sweep you away from this? There is no damn God!" The doctor near screams the words. "There's you, me, and a miserable little pile of pills. You're the one who refuses to see an expert, you're the one who insisted on seeing an 'Ultimate', and yet you refuse to do what you've been told. I don't know why I bother, shit, you can rot in that empty skull of yours for all I care."

By the time he was done with his rant, he'd fallen back into his chair, dejected, out of breath. Komaeda didn't miss the flush on his cheeks, the way his nails dug into his thighs. What a brash display of emotion.

"I never knew you felt so strongly about God, Matsuda-kun." Straightening out his sweater, Komaeda shot the other a wide smile. "I guess it makes sense, you are a man of science, after all."

The doctor did not raise his head, remaining in his hunched over position. He was shaking, fists scrunching the fabric of his pants as he tried to regain his composure, probably to stop himself from jumping across the room and choking Komaeda to death. He thought he would have deserved it at this point.

"Do you really not understand how privileged you are? Are you doing this just to mock me, to make me suffer? I shouldn't have expected any less from Komaeda fucking Nagito," his voice trembled and cracked. "Am I the incompetent one? Should I be coming to your dorm every night and forcing the damn things down your throat? I can't fucking listen to you, I can't stand you. Every time you look at me with that stupid fucking grin on your face it feels like you think this is all a joke. What if you do die? What do you think is gonna happen to the people who love and care about you?"

Komaeda opened his mouth to refute him, but quickly snapped it shut again when a scalpel zipped past his head, lodging itself in the wall behind him with a thwunk. The doctor had raised his head, arm poised with another scalpel in hand and eyes filled with deadly intent as he glared at Komaeda.

"Get the fuck out of my office you ugly bastard."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda opens his eyes suddenly, silently.

It's no dramatic waking up from a nightmare, no shooting up out of bed with his lungs burning and chest heaving. Just a sudden realisation that he is awake and that he has been dreaming. Perhaps he was kicked out of Matsuda's office, but how would he know? It was just as possible that he'd risen to his feet and beaten him senseless.

…Matsuda?

It's a familiar name, but not one that belongs to anyone Komaeda knows. "Matsuda-kun. Matsuda… Hope's Peak?"

He mumbles to himself, attempting to make sense of the information thrown at him. They say dreams are pulled from your memories, so why would he have memories from Hope's Peak? Why would he have memories of a person he has never known?

"Matsuda… I called him the Ultimate Neurologist, didn't I?" He asks the question to the darkness of his room. "I wouldn't forget somebody like that, would I?"

Komaeda sits up, pushing his hair back as he brings a hand to his forehead. "Would I?"

Eyes drifting along the covers of his bed, he spots the memory notebook. "I wonder if I should start keeping one too," he chuckles.

#Matsukoma #Matsuda Yasuke #Komaeda Nagito #Danganronpa #Danganronpa 0 #Fanfiction #Ficgiri

[vannahfanfics]

Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shota Aizawa, Emi Fukukado

Requested By: On_kamis_green_earth (Ao3) & @selmeuuh​ (Tumblr)

Shota clicked his tongue as he glanced at his watch, cursing every tick of the minute hand. Here he stood outside the restaurant, looking like a stood-up loser. Somehow he’d allowed Nemuri and Hizashi to convince him to meet them for dinner, and yet, they were nowhere to be seen. Where are they? 

Shota blinked when his phone chimed. It was a simple message from Nemuri: 

April Fool’s! 

“Fuck me,” Shota snarled and locked his phone. He cringed when he heard a delighted squeal float down the sidewalk towards him and slowly turned to feast his eyes upon his chosen torture. 

“E-Emi?” he croaked in shock when the seafoam-green-haired woman came bounding as fast as her white heels would allow. Her summer green dress swished around her knees, and her ruffled white cardigan fluttered in the wind as she clack-clack-clacked over the pavement towards him. Shota could only stand there, slack-jawed.

A cheesy smile adorned her face as she came to a stop, the pearly whites of her teeth complemented by the sleek gloss coating her lips and the rosy hue of her cheeks. 

“Shota! How funny seeing you here, huh?” She then snorted piggishly in laughter and began lightly elbowing him in the ribs. “Get it? ‘Funny’ ? Ya know, because I’m-” she dropped her voice into a harsh whisper and shielded one side of her face with the flat of her hand, “Mrs. Joke?” 

Emi began cackling hysterically and slapping Shota’s shoulder while he continued to stand there, stupefied. Emi quickly calmed down, sighing contently as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, man, how hilarious. So, what’re you doing here?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

“Mmm? Nemuri set me up on a blind date.” 

Of course she did. 

The female teacher frowned as she stood on her tip-toes to peer over Shota’s broad shoulders. “There’s no one else here, though. Shota, did you see anyone walk inside?”

A despicable part of Shota wanted to lie to her. Really, he did; he could feel it bubbling up in the back of his throat, ready to coat his tongue in abominable poison. He swallowed the urge, though, for he could not bear to lie to Emi even if it would get him out of this stupid prank. No, he couldn’t take it, he realized as he watched the happiness dissolve right out of her eyes. 

“Emi… I’m your blind date.” 

Emi gawked stupidly at him for a moment.

“I-I’m sorry, Shota; I’m just not used to you making jokes.” 

“I’m not joking, Emi.” His eye began aching, as it always did when he was stressed, so he cupped his palm against his eye socket while he scowled. “Nemuri and Hizashi tricked me into thinking I was meeting them for dinner, but in reality, they were setting us up for April Fool’s Day.” 

“Oh.” Emi’s voice was hollow as she clasped her purse tightly in front of her stomach. Her expression was blank as she swallowed the bitter pill of reality that Shota had just dealt her. “Oh,” she repeated, softly, and Shota tensed at the disappointment lacing her small voice. 

Oh, he wanted to kill them for this, and not even because it was an inconvenience to him. No, anger frenziedly boiled Shota’s blood because he did not like witnessing the sad tears brimming in the corners of Emi’s eyes. He clenched his fists and his teeth as white-hot fury seared just beneath the surface, but he kept composed.

“Ahahaha!” she suddenly burst into laughter and pressed a hand into her cheek. She could always flip a switch like that, hide her true feelings behind a mask of giggles. “That’s today? You’d think I would know that, considering— Anyway, I’m sorry those two dragged you out here for nothing, Shota! I should get home before it gets too late,” she hummed while turning on the slim heels of her white shoes. “Even for a hero, the streets are dangerous at night. See you la-” 

She stopped mid-sentence as Shota’s hand snatched her wrist. Her forest-green eyes snapped to him with a mixture of shock and wonder, and he met her gaze with narrowed eyes. Emi’s cheeks brightened to a rosy hue, and she shuffled her feet anxiously. 

“Sh-Shota, I don’t…” 

“Do you seriously expect me to let you leave?” he gruffed. With his free hand, he rifled his fingers through his wavy black hair and gave her a sardonic smirk. “Do you really think I’m that much of a fool, Emi?” 

Emi’s blush deepened, creeping down her neck and up to the tops of her ears.

“No, Shota…” 

“Good. Now come on.” 

Emi didn’t object as he pulled her off the sidewalk and into the ritzy restaurant. His dress shoes squeaked on the waxed tile as he strode purposefully up to the hostess, and their distorted reflections danced in the marbled glass windows framing either side of the entryway. He gave the young girl his name, unsure if it was all part of the plan. 

“Ah-ha! Here is it; two for Shota Aizawa at six-fifteen.”

Shota snorted and shook his head. He had to give it to Nemuri; she’d even budgeted time for the duo’s bungling discovery of the treacherous April Fool’s prank. Annoying as it was, Hizashi and Nemuri had this trick planned to a frighteningly precise degree. 

Shota finally released Emi’s wrist as the hostess led them into the dining area. They were seated at a table by the window, giving them a perfect view of the city streets. The golden glow of the streetlamps complimented the shine of the crystal chandeliers within the restaurant; the humming of the cars trundling by blended harmoniously with the string quartet band filling the air with pleasant sonata. 

Begrudgingly, Shota could only describe the atmosphere as romantic.

Shota pulled out the chair for Emi, which she eased into and neatly tugged her dress under her calves, a stunning picture of poise. Not wishing to embarrass himself in front of all the snooty well-to-dos, he adjusted his tie with a clear of his throat and stiffly sat down opposite Emi. She smiled sweetly as she clasped her hands on the table in front of her. It wavered nearly immediately, and she nervously traced the gem of the ring on her finger with the pad of her thumb. 

“Shota, you really don’t—” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he asserted, picking up a menu and unfolding it to plant it in front of his face and hide the blush appearing on his cheeks. “I’ve made my decision, so just decide what you want.” 

He could see Emi’s unsure expression melt into one of appreciation over the rim of the laminated menu. She hummed in response before daintily plucking up her own. After a second, he saw the edges of a big grin stretching over the top of the plastic. 

“I can have anything I want?” 

“Anything. I’m not a cheapskate when it comes to dates.” 

“So you acknowledge that this is a date?” she grinned, lowering the flap of the menu to lean across the table and trace the rim of the empty wine glass seductively. Shota raised the menu higher to conceal the blush now raging out of control across his cheeks. He cursed himself at the slip of the tongue, but in the back of his mind, Shota considered the notion that he really wasn’t malcontent with this surprise outing with Emi being designated a date. 

She looked gorgeous tonight. Shota’d be a moron if he didn’t admit it. Her sea-green tresses bounced in luscious curls around her face, which was adorned with just enough make-up to be classy. Her eyes were lidded as she gazed lustily at him, her lashes voluminous and long thanks to careful curling with mascara. Her eyelids shimmered with glittery eyeshadow that matched the shade of her dress, which hugged her curves in all the right places. Highlighter accented her cheekbones, and gloss brought a shimmer to her lips that Shota could almost call kissable. 

Shota snapped his eyes back to the menu. These were thoughts he should not be having right now. 

“Heehee! Shota, you’re so fun to tease!” Emi squealed, rearing back in the chair to clap her hands together delightedly. The plastic lamination of the menu crinkled as Shota gripped it excessively tight. 

“Laugh it up, Emi, while you have me for the evening.” 

“Oh, I intend to,” she purred and raised her wine glass as the waiter came bearing a bottle of champagne and poured a healthy amount into both their glasses. She sipped at the bubbling gold liquid elegantly as she stared intently at him from across the table. When he glanced up, he almost imagined the alcohol reflecting in her eyes, like rivers of gold running through the forests of her irises. “I intend to,” she repeated in a soft whisper, and her eyes grew lidded again as she looked at him like he was a dream. 

He couldn’t blame her, really. Considering the way he’d brushed her off for so long, if he were in her position, he’d be wondering if this was a dream himself. 

Wow. Maybe he was a fool. 

He dropped the menu down with a quiet sigh just as the waiter came to retrieve their food orders. The waiter delivered them a basket of fresh yeast rolls and some side salads to tide them over until their entrees arrived. 

They ate in silence, nothing between them but the occasional scrapes of their forks on the ceramic. 

Shota awkwardly searched for a topic of conversation. He’d never been the talkative type. As time went on, his surprise date reclined further and further into the ornate chair. Emi continued to swirl the champagne around in the glassware, sipping it occasionally and staring at the lace tablecloth with an expression that could only be described as sad. 

Frowning, Shota leaned his cheek into his elbow and narrowed his eyes, abandoning the Caesar salad. 

“Hey.” The deep timbre of his voice called to her like a siren. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. He smirked a little and gestured lazily with his hand at her despondent form. “What are you thinking about? You’re not one to…” he trailed off, eyes flickering across the room as he struggled to voice what he was observing. “You’re upset,” he said finally. 

“I can’t help but feel bad,” she admitted with a forlorn sigh. Her gaze dropped down to her lap, and Shota had no doubt that her fingers were digging into the folds of her dress to claw at her thighs beneath. “I’m trying to be happy and appreciate what you’re doing for me, Shota, but…” She trailed off, and Shota jerked up in his seat when she released a petulant whine. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, dyed black with the mascara. “Excuse me!” she gasped abruptly and jumped up to scurry off to the bathroom. 

“Emi, wait—!” he cried, reaching his hand out to grab her. But she was already gone, her dress fluttering like doves as she fled from him. 

She fled from him. 

Shota sat there in utter disbelief, and he searched, searched deep inside himself— and he came to the realization that he did not like seeing Emi this way. Not one bit. He did not like seeing that sad look distorting her pretty features or the mascara-laden tears carving down her face. That was not Emi. 

Shota wanted Emi. He wanted the happy-go-lucky woman who laughed at the simplest things. He wanted the woman who was so full of life and joy that it was infectious, bleeding even past his stone exterior to make his world just a little bit brighter. He wanted that smile like a supernova, so bright that it kept all the shadows that haunted him at bay— if only for a little while. 

Shota slumped into his chair, running his hands over his face. 

Maybe he was in love with Emi, just a little bit. Maybe after all this time, her jokes and bright smiles and random texts had finally slowly worked on him, and he’d fallen in love with her without even realizing it. 

He was a fool!

“Emi!” The chair scraped loudly as he pushed out of it, running towards the bathrooms. He nearly knocked over a waiter in his mad dash, but he only had time to sputter a half-hearted apology. He stumbled into the hallway panting and wild-eyed as he stared at the slightly ajar door to the women’s bathroom. 

He could hear her crying inside. 

“Come on, Emi!” Shota jumped as the air rang with the distinct sound of the woman slapping her palms against her cheeks. “You need to be happy! Happy! Shota’s nice enough to take you out even though he didn’t have to. You need to show how grateful you are, even if it’s not—” He could hear her voice wobbling precariously. “It’s not—” The bathroom echoed with a mournful sob. “It’s not real.”  

He slowly pushed the door open to find her leaning over one of the sinks, knuckles white as she clenched the granite countertop tight. Her sea-green hair hung into her eyes, but he could see the tears splashing down onto the swirls of brown and white stone and the flush in her cheeks peeking out between the curled strands. Emi heaved another sob, her entire body trembling as she tried desperately to suppress her emotions.

“I’m Mrs. Joke… I’m not supposed to hate April Fools’ Day. I guess it hurts when you’re the fool, huh?” 

“Emi.” 

She jerked violently as he spoke, whirling around. Her eyes flew wildly in every direction, searching for an escape. Shota calmly advanced towards her, his steps slow and deliberate so as not to startle her. Emi gulped and tried to side-step him. 

“Th-thhank you for a pleasant evening, Shota, but I— Eep!” 

She squeaked in alarm as he suddenly caged her in against the countertop, one strong arm on either side of her slim waist. Her hands splayed against his chest, but she didn’t make any move to push him away. They just rested there, her fingers trembling along with the rest of her body as she struggled to process what was happening. “Shota, please,” she begged meekly. “I can’t… I can’t take it,” she sniffed and dropped her head shamefully. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me, and I can’t force you to. So, please… Just let me go home...” 

Shota listened to her pleading with sad eyes. How could he have been so heartless? He’d always tossed aside Emi’s playful flirtations as just that— jokes — but he’d neglected to view them for what they really were: cries to be noticed. 

He whispered her name as he threaded his fingers into her soft green hair, cupping her cheek. She immediately pushed into his palm, relishing the warmth emanating from his being like it gave her life. Her lashes fluttered as she savored the touch, and Shota’s heart broke all over again at the realization that it was he who reduced her to this. 

“Emi, listen to me,” Shota said firmly. Emi obediently peered through her teary lashes at him, sniffling quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been blind.” His other hand gently grasped her waist, and he didn’t miss the way she tensed underneath his calloused skin. She stared doe-eyed at him as he nudged his leg between hers, pushing her back against the counter until her back arched a little. She gasped at the intimacy of it all, shuddering at the implications and the smoldering passion that had alit Shota’s dark eyes. He leaned down to press his forehead against hers, smiling bitterly. 

“You’re not the fool. I am.” 

“Shota? What are you saying?”  She gazed at him with measured fear, calculating if this was just another ploy to help her feel better or a genuine confession. 

Words had never really been his forte— so Shota acted. 

Her body jolted as he swept her up in a kiss. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his dress shirt, and she sucked in a breath through her nose as their lips met, body tensing with surprise and forcing her up onto her tip-toes. However, as Shota’s lips worked fervently against her own, she slowly melted in his hands. She languidly slid back down as Shota pressed into her, leaning her over the counter to elicit a small groan from deep within her chest. Her hands slid up to weave into his tousled locks, spreading apart the gel-slicked strands as her fingers twisted into them. One of his hands kept an iron grip on her waist, while the other traveled through those luscious curls.

He pulled away slightly only to angle his head and kiss her more deeply, finding himself addicted to the way her soft lips molded against his. Overwhelmed with the urge to taste her, he gently ran his tongue along her bottom lip, groaning quietly as her cherry-flavored lip gloss smeared a little. The groan grew louder when she timidly parted her lips to allow him in because Emi tasted sweeter than that lip gloss ever could. She tugged weakly on his hair as he explored her mouth like he was searching for something immensely important, and maybe he was. 

They both inhaled sharply when they broke apart, red-faced and panting. Emi's eyes were hazed with desire, slowly clearing as she realized what had just happened. Shota traced her jawline with his fingertips, appreciating how she instinctively tilted her head to present the column of her throat. He could feel her bounding pulse as his fingers slipped down. 

"Please tell me this isn't part of the joke," she whispered. Shota replaced his fingers with his mouth, pressing deep, passionate, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her neck before lingering at her collarbone. He felt so intoxicated by her now; how had he missed how maddeningly beautiful she was all this time? Or perhaps he always knew and pretended not to because deep down, he was afraid of someone loving him and loving someone back. 

He had to make up for the lost time. 

"Of course not," he murmured against her skin. He tracked his way back up to her lips with chaste butterfly kisses, leaving his mouth resting just over hers as he stared deep into her eyes. "You always told me I never had a sense of humor."

Emi snorted at his little quip. Her arms made a home around his neck and her fingers in his hair, teasing the wavy ends continuously. When she looked at him again, she wore that smile that was so bright that it nearly blinded him, but it filled him with such warmth that he sought it out nonetheless. 

"Always so serious," she hummed, bringing one hand to trace the stubble peppering his chin. "We make quite a pair." Shota just grunted in acknowledgment, too busy dotting her knuckles with more kisses. Emi watched him with love blooming in her forest-green eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize. You must have been hurting such a long time," Shota sighed. Emi shrugged, rolling her eyes indifferently. 

"It's okay. I have you now." Again, he hummed in agreement, this time while straightening up. Once he spied their reflection in the mirror, he smirked and pulled out his cell phone. He turned Emi slightly, baring her shocked expression to the mirror, and snapped a picture just as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He sent it to the group chat with only the caption, Fool indeed.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#eraserjoke #aizawa x mrs joke #mrs joke x aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #emi fukukado #fukukado emi #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

[writingsbychlo]

Types Of Kisses | Bellamy Blake

Author: @writingsbychlo​

Word Count: 6201

Notes: My first official Bellamy Blake thing, go easy on me if it sucks? Also, this was supposed to be headcanons and it really just got out of control. My bad.

Warnings: References to sex, references to death, references to injury, thats about it? It’s pretty nice and soft, really. As apposed to my other things. 

Quick Kisses When You’re Both Busy

Finding free time around the camp was hard, everybody was set to a job, keeping it running, keeping you all safe, pulling their weight. 

You were no different.

Somehow, it seemed everybody here had arrived on this planet with a useful trade. Monty was a genius in everything he tried, Jasper was a wiz-kid, Raven could fix, build or hack anything you threw at her, Clarke seemed to be a certified doctor within three weeks of landing, Murphy has an uncanny ability to steal anything anyone needed and Bellamy was just a natural-born leader. You, had a particularly good talent for drawing smiley faces, not that it was a talent you could transfer much here.

Instead, you opted to study underneath Raven, and help her out since she had limitations now with her leg. That is how you found yourself twenty feet up a metal tower, with a pair of pliers and a racing heart in front of an electrical box. 

“Okay, so tell me again which socket the red wire is connecting to?” She shouted up and you traced the wire gently with your fingers, following it along to the socket. 

“Top right! Where do you want the other end going?” Waiting but receiving no reply, you looked down, a familiar mop of deep brown hair catching your gaze next to the top of a pony-tailed head. Abby also stood with them, Clarke too, and you rolled your eyes, having given up on watching them argue and choosing instead to detangle wires you knew weren’t needed. 

Feeling a tug on the rope around your waist, you glanced down, Raven holding the end securely and you closed the box, unwrapping your leg from around the pole you had fastened yourself to and immediately swinging away from the tower and into the air. 

Being slowly lowered, you were surprised when you were met halfway by Bellamy, the fingers of one hand holding him to the beams he climbed up, the others wrapping around the knot at your waist as he pulled you back close to the tower. His lips landed on yours softly, your hands coming up to cup his face as you grinned. 

“Well, hello there.” You teased, and he smiled, pecking your nose gently. 

“Raven says to plug the blue into the middle and connect the two ends.” He grinned, placing another chaste kiss to your lips before letting you swing back out into the air. Raven pulling you back up to the box as he began his climb back down. “See you later!” He shouted, patting Raven on the shoulder before following Abby across the camp, leaving Clarke to chat with Raven and you with a smile on your face. 

Needy Kisses When One of You Wants Attention

It wasn’t like you were purposefully ignoring Bellamy, you weren’t, but your top had a hole torn in it from where you’d snagged it on a branch running from the acid fog, and being that it was the only one you had, you were trying to stitch it up again. 

That had been going well, until Bellamy had pushed his way into your tent, kicking his boots off from a stressful day and flopping down on your makeshift bed, the impact of his body nudging yours causing the sharpened piece of twig you were using as a needle for stitching to prick the end of your finger.

With a mumbled apology, he threw his arm over his eyes, the other stretched outwards for you to curl into his side. Except, you didn’t. Peeking up from under his forearm, your eyes weren’t even on him, actually, and all he wanted at the end of a stressful and busy day was your attention, and the fact that he wasn’t getting the aforementioned attention was irking him. 

Your finger was now placed between your lips, shirt clutched in one hand and he let himself finally take you in. The bra that had been a clean white when you’d first come down was now more of a murky grey, stained from continual washing in the river and working, and the strap that was near snapping had discoloured threads, strings stolen from spare materials holding it together, the thought bringing a smile to his lips. 

Your hair had been tied up out of your way in the messiest braid he’d ever seen, chunks that were too wispy and short to reach hung around your face as you concentrated, and he forced himself to sit back up, resting his chin on your shoulder and letting a loud grumble resonate in his throat, telling you exactly what he wanted.

“In a minute, Bell, I just gotta’ finish stitching this.” You promised, holding it up to show him you weren’t far off, but his arms snaked around your waist, squeezing you tightly, a huff leaving his lips. Using his nose to nudge the strap from your shoulder, he kissed along your shoulder blades and up to just beneath your ear, nuzzling into your skin as you giggled.

Letting the shirt fall to a pile in your lap for a moment, you turned to him, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. His response was almost instant, his lips pressing to yours just as firmly and he hummed happily, moving to lie back down, and you pulled away, his eyebrows furrowing, a pout forming on his lips as he whined. Pecking his lips again once, twice, you shook your head. 

“I seriously have to finish stitching this, otherwise I’ll have nothing to wear.” You teased, and he chuckled, his fingers dancing along your skin raising goosebumps to your skin as he sucked gently on your shoulder, working his tongue over your skin until a purple mark he could be proud of had appeared. 

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

As he moved to the next spot, he let his fingers play with the clasp, popping it open and slipping his hand around to your front, fingers tracing the now loosened support on your front and you sewed up a knot, having successfully closed the gash in the fabric. Using your teeth to snap the thread, you chucked your shirt to the floor, standing and letting your bra slip down your arms, popping the button on your jeans.

Watching, joyfully, Bellamy lay back, arms propped behind his head as he watched you shimmy out of your jeans. His bottom lip was caught between his lip and his features were playful, but his eyes were tired and you could see it. Kicking the pants from your legs, you placed your hands on your hips, a smile tugging at your own lips. 

“You say that now, Bell, but I don’t think you’d be too happy when Murphy’s eyes would be on me all day if all I wore was my bra, hm?” The smile immediately fell away to be replaced with an angry frown, and he shot up, hand reaching behind his head to tug his own shirt over his head as he held it out for you, tugging you down onto the bed with him when you reached out for it. 

Straddling him, he held it open, dragging it over your head until the material was bunched around your neck, and he used the opportunity to pull your forwards, your lips meeting his once again. His hands slipped up from the top to your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands and you pushed your arms through the holes, enjoying the warmth he’d left in it, his smell clinging to the fabric. 

Finally laying down with him, you peppered kisses along his jaw and he sighed happily, eyes closing as he got the love and care he wanted at the end of a long day leading the 100.

Goodnight Kisses

Your entire body ached, all your muscles were screaming out, and you were so thankful when you finally sat down on the edge of your bed. Echo had been teaching you some fighting methods, training you up, and it was really taking a toll on your body 

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back in the soft touch on your back happily. Turning to Bellamy, his eyes were equally as tired as yours, mentally exhausted and strained from spending all day with Raven working out how best to run and maintain the ring, and trying to find out how the hell they were going to get back down to earth in a few years. With a soft smile, you switched off the lamp beside you and crawled under the covers, relishing in the feeling of no longer having to stand on sore feet or put pressure on aching joints. 

Curling into Bellamy’s warmth, his hand immediately wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting happily on the pillow and his arm, your own hand folded under your pillow with the other on his chest, a content sound leaving you both as you stared tiredly into the dark, your breathing slowing as you matched up. 

Your leg hitched up, one of yours curling around his and his other hand found your thigh beneath the covers, holding onto you as his thumb absentmindedly stroked over your skin. Pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his neck where your face was pressed, he returned the gesture by pressing a series of kisses to your forehead and temple, pulling you impossibly closer and squeezing you into him. 

Rubbing your nose, against his jaw, you could feel the yawn that left his lips, and he turned to look down at you resting on his shoulder, using his nose to nudge your attention to him. Without even opening your eyes, you let the hand that had been resting on his chest come up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips to his languidly and tiredly as he returned the gesture, your lips barely moving as he smiled softly into the exchange. 

“Love you.” He muttered, kissing your nose before letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

“Love you, too.” The words were muffled, spoken through a yawn and on the edge of sleep.

Goodmorning Kisses

Kissing along the scruffy jawline of the curly-haired boy, you grinned, giggling against his skin as he turned his head away from you with a grumble about it being too early, and you only continued to kiss his jaw on the other side, trailing kisses up along his cheek to the corner of his mouth. When he puckered his lips, however, having accepted that it was a wake-up call, you pulled away, sitting upright in his lap, leg either side of his, and one of his eyes popped open to look at you. 

“You forgot one.” His morning voice was raspy, and you popped an eyebrow, leaning down, close to his face again as a satisfied grin broke out on his cheeks, and just when your breath was brushing over his lips and he leaned in, you swerved, pressing a kiss to his other cheek, sitting back up as he stared at you, incredulously. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, raised his own eyebrows, eyes twinking, mischievously. “So, that’s how you’re going to play it?” He teased, and you nodded, making to remove yourself from him,  but his hands locked on your hips as he flipped you over, settling happily between your legs, arms either side of your hips as he caged you in, your head on the pillows and the cover under your back. 

Touching the tip of his nose to yours in an eskimo kiss, he licked over his lips, pressing them to yours, and you wound the fingers of one hand into his hair, taking a nice handful of it between your fingers and scratching your nails against his scalp lightly, the other resting on his chest. 

Nipping at your bottom lip, he wanted access to your mouth, but you pulled away, giving him another chaste peck, before pushing him away with the hand on his bare chest. “Not until you brush your teeth.” The look on his face caused you to laugh as he sat back on his heels, and leaned down, breathing harshly in your face as you whined falsely, squirming away from him. 

“Well, good morning to you too.” He dragged the words out, breathing heavily in your face as you complained about his morning breath, a laugh leaving his throat as he placed a wet kiss to your cheek, rolling from the bed and wandering away to brush his teeth, leaving you with a nice view to admire as he did.

Toothpaste Kisses

The brush hung from your mouth as you exhaustedly cleaned over your teeth, the paste leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth, but it was the best any of you could come up with from the plants around you, and you were just grateful to have somewhat clean teeth as opposed to rotting ones. 

Letting your thoughts wander, you stared off into space, barely acknowledging the person who came and stood beside you, picking his own toothbrush up and dipping it into the jar, collecting an amount of the paste and scrubbing at his own smile. Jumping at the chuckle that sounded beside you, you snapped back to the present, eyes turning to lock on the man beside you as you raised an eyebrow. 

Reaching up, he used his thumb to swipe an excess dribble of foamy paste from your chin, a slight blush rising to your cheeks, and you held your hair back, leaning away and spitting out the residue, using your water bottle to rinse out the rest of the aftertaste. “Thank you.” The words were spoken softly, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to Bellamy’s tanned cheek as he frowned. 

“You mithed.” His words were muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste and being spoken around the handle of a brush, and you rolled your eyes, leaning back as he leaned towards you, his eyebrows raising. “Wan’ a kith.” Grinning, you shot him a look, your hand coming up to cup his cheek as you rubbed the tip of your nose of his, before pressing your lips to his gently, to which he happily returned. 

Pulling away, he once again reached up, cleaning the paste he’d put there from your cheeks and around your mouth. “Love you.” He grinned, tapping your nose before turning away to finish getting ready, and you just leaned up, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his shirt. 

“Love you too, Bell.”

Pre-Mission Kisses

The whole camp was bustling, everybody rushing from one location to another as different teams prepped for different aspects, in order to pull off yet another one of Raven, Clarke or Jasper’s ingenious plans. With a sigh,  you started your trek towards the main bunker, knowing exactly who you’d find there. 

You could hear him barking orders from inside before you’d even opened the door, and when you did, your eyes immediately locked onto his firm, one of a few, at the centre of the hubbub. He was standing tall, gun strapped to his back and arms crossed as he yelled at each person he saw. 

The light of the door opening caught his eyes and he spared a glance to the doorway, the harshness in his eyes never softening, he was in role now, he was leading, and he wouldn’t fall down at the first sign of you, not when he had to do what was best for his people. He did, however, tilt his head backwards in a subtle nod, motioning you towards him, before his eyes immediately snapped away to continue his instructions. 

Fighting your way through the crowd, you stood and waited as he bossed around the group before him, his fingers twitching at his side nervously, he wanted to reach out, to lace his fingers through yours and kiss along your knuckles, just like he did when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

When the group had dissipated to do as told, however, his attention was directed to you. Holding out his hand, just slightly, you laced your fingers through his, his hand instantly squeezing around yours, as a reassurance to both yourself and him. Using the connection to close the rift, he tugged you closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, your face buried in his neck as your own arms looped around his waist, holding him close.

His cheek was pressed to your temple, and your eyes were closed, as you both just stood, breathing one another in and taking a moment to acknowledge the situation. Barely moving, you tilted your head up, his down, until your eyes met, yours filled with worry and his filled with longing. Longing to stay, be in your arms all day and not have to risk it all.

With a hand on your cheek, he licked over his bottom lip before pressing his chapped ones to yours, pouring all the love and care he had for you into it, his lips moving slowly against yours, 

as you both relished being in the moment, before it was torn from you with unending possibilities and bad outcomes. 

Stepping back, he pulled his sad frown into a harsh look, nodding to you before stepping away, voice scratchy as he shouted, and you knew that while tears were pooling in your eyes visibly, he was hiding the same pain much better.

Post-Mission Kisses

Meeting Bellamy at the gate upon his return was a habit. You would pick at the wooden posts nervously, but it saved you chewing at the skin and nails on your fingers in fear. Harper often joined you if Monty was gone too, and while Abby would use the excuse of being a medical help closer than the bay, she was just as worried for Kane and you knew it. 

The minute the rover was heard within distance, you knew it would be minutes before Bellamy was back in your reach, or forever torn from it. Relief mixed with panic washed over you in waves as you waited, as always with bated breath, until they were close enough for you to see the driver.

With hair floppy and mussed, dirt splattered across tanned skin; he was there. The doors were wrenched open, and the engine came to a stop just metres away, and you took off in a run across the muddy path towards the opening door on the driver’s side. With arms held open, you flung yourself into his arms, holding him tightly as he gripped you just the same, hands undecided on where they wanted to sit, rubbing along your back and playing with your hair as you simply held him, knowing he was back.

He was dishevelled, as always. Hair that had been slicked back was now hanging messily from his head, skin that had been clean and pure was littered with dirt and blood, bruised and cut. Tracing your fingers over his skin, he leaned down, lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, all the pain and anger forgotten as you moved against him. 

Your bodies were pressed together, his tongue tracing your bottom lip as you granted him access, your hands cupping his face as he gripped bruisingly at your waist, holding you firmly to him, as if scared that when he let you go, you’d be gone. Sucking on his bottom lip, slightly, he let out a breathy moan, just for you to hear, and when you pulled away, his eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness, tears lining them and glittering in the light. 

“You’re the only thing that pulls me through.” The words were spoken breathlessly, barely above a whisper, and you would’ve missed it had you not been listening, and you just pressed your forehead to his, fingers slipping around to run through his hair soothingly and he refused to let you down, not just yet, he needed you close to him, he always did. 

Turning you both around, he trapped you against the cold metal of the rover, one hand slipping from your waist as the forearm of the other rested by your head, blocking you both from view as he leaned back in, a more aggressive kiss on his lips as he poured everything pent up inside into it, cheeks wet with shed tears.

Taking control, you submitted to him, knowing he just needed to know that he had absolute dominance, power, over something in his life, something he managed and could be responsible for, and you let him, because if there was one thing you knew, it was that Bellamy Blake needed you just as much as you needed him. 

Those Kisses that Intend to Lead to More

Eyes burned into the side of your head, and despite how many glares you’d already shot him, he refused to let up, eyes never leaving your figure, despite how many times you attempted to duck from within his eyesight. The shining bonus of not being an upstanding member of the leadership team was being able to make the most of your time on earth, and that when Monty arrived with a barrel of something strong and disgusting, you could partake in it. 

Bellamy, was not such a fan of this. Whenever these events arose, he stood back with the rest of the few that knew they couldn’t afford to drink, a cup of water in their hands instead of the bitter liquid everyone else was taking in like air, including you. He would much rather have you tucked under his arm in these events, or off talking, eating, fucking. 

He wouldn’t care what you were doing, as long as it was you and him. But when these barrels rolled around, you favoured taking part in the festivities, and who was he to stop you? He never wanted to control you, and he knew these chances for you all were rare, but God, he hated the way you were a little too carefree, and that you were a little too close to the hot fire keeping you all warm. 

He hated that because you were so close to it, you’d taken your jacket off, his jacket, and you weren’t revealing anything, but the only person who should be looking at you should be him, and he did not like Murphy’s eyes on you, or you and Jasper drunkenly exchanging jokes and giggling while getting another drink.

What he hated most, however, was how absolutely beautiful the orange flames of the fire made you look. They illuminated you, made you glow like an angel, and his fingers were almost crushing his cup, white knuckles, at how badly he wanted to drag you away from them all, drag you away from the group and take the opportunity of the loud noise and music to cover up the screams he’d be drawing from you.

When you were ready, you’d come to him, and until then, he had to be patient. But he was losing his patience, and they all knew it. Clarke had made several jokes already, and Octavia was rolling her eyes at him every time he managed to drag his eyes away from you for a split second to glance at anyone else and ensure anyone else’s safety. Due to the hot weather, they were currently enjoying on earth, a ‘summer’ it was called, you had sliced the legs off of one of your pairs of jeans, leaving you in shorts. Which he had no problem with. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, which he definitely had no problem with, because fuck, if he didn’t love seeing you in his clothes. 

What he didn’t love, was that your dancing was causing your shorts to ride up your thighs and the hem of his shirt was almost covering them. A sight that had his pants tightening just a tad, and his face flushing, because he loved seeing you pull on his shirt and collapse into his arms with nothing underneath right after he’d fucked the lights out of you, and your breathless form, flushed face and dopey drunken smile was very resemblant of that moment.

Deciding he’d had enough, he stalked across the camp, the short distance that felt like a mile to you was closing in, and your eyes had locked with his as he approached. Scooping down to pick up your jacket from where you’d discarded it on the ground, before closing the distance between the two of you. 

His lips crashed into yours before you could even think, fingers gripping tightly at your chin as his lips moved, yours sloppily trying to keep up with the pace he was setting. His free hand was drifting just a little too low on your back and he knew it, but he also knew he had the attention of the people around, and he wanted to make sure they knew that no matter how good you looked, and no matter how funny their jokes were, you were always the arms he was going to come home to in bed that night. 

He wasn’t a jealous person, no, he trusted you too much for that. He was, however, a weak-willed person when it came to you, and the way you moaned his name slightly, biting on his lip as you pulled away, rocking down from your tiptoes and onto the balls of your feet ended it for him. 

He could still taste the liquid on your tongue, feel your lips against his, and hear the way you moaned his name, the way he took your breath away. Now, you were looking up at him with innocent eyes, wide and glittering and he knew that he couldn’t wait any longer, and so with that, your hips met his shoulder as he hoisted you from the ground, arms wrapped securely around your exposed thighs, the smirk on his face prominent as you out up no fight, no squirming in his arms, just dropped your cup and held into his shirt. 

Those Kisses that Don’t Intend to Lead to More (but always do)

With a sigh, you pulled your hair up into a ponytail, laying out flat on the ground, sweat leaving a sheer layer on your skin. The sun was beating down and you were hard at work, your shirt sticking to you, throat dry, just like everyone else. 

Work had taken a serious slow down, and you were trying to pick up the slack of the ever-growing number of people with heatstroke and sunburn that neglected them from work. Wiping the back of your hand over your head, you stood up, rolling your neck from side to side and cracking open your eyes, a smile on your lips as you shielded your eyes from the sun, watching Bellamy make his way over to you with two cups full of water in his hands. 

He had forgone a shirt a while ago, like a lot of the men, but you couldn’t help but look at him. Chest shining, muscles flexing with every action he did, freckles dotted across taut skin, he was like a perfect wet dream, and you were grateful you were allowed to openly look at him, you could only imagine how many girls were stealing small glances in hope of neither of you catching their wandering eyes.

Handing you a cup, he took a deep swig from his own, and you followed, eyes closing at the relief of the liquid meeting your parched mouth. Lowering the cup from your lips, Bellamy had already done so, watching you with a soft smile. A small bead was hanging from his lip, and before he could wipe it away, you leaned up, taking his glistening bottom lip between yours and sucking gently. 

His eyes widened, hand rapidly trying to place his drink down as his hands found your waist, lips puckering to return the kiss you were giving him. Tongue pushing past your lips, he played with yours, smirking into the kiss at being able to tease you as much as you were teasing him. Pulling away, his eyes were locked on yours, pupils blown and he scanned over your face, eyes finding your swollen lips, and flushed cheeks.

“It’s like, midday. We absolutely can’t. There is so much to be done.” He mumbled, having to literally force himself to drag his eyes away from your lips, by turning away to face the half-built fencing beside you. Hearing a solid agreement from you, he ran a hand through his hair roughly, trying to focus and letting out a breath he didn’t know he had. 

Making the mistake of glancing up, he watched you flip your hair over your shoulder, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you leant over, tits falling forwards as you did, almost spilling from your top. “Fuck it.” The words left his mouth quietly, and as you opened your mouth to ask what he said, his mouth descended onto yours, silencing you with a passionate kiss, hands slipping straight around to squeeze at your ass as he pushed you backwards, walking you out of sight of other people.

Locking a foot around your ankle, he let you fall back into the long grass with a soft thud, your eyes wide as he looked down at you, undoing the buckle on his belt. “What, here?” He could see the shock on your face as you popped yourself up on your elbows, and he reached behind his head, tugging his shirt up over his head and removing it once his belt had come loose.

“Yep.” His grin was wicked, and he dropped to his knees, falling forwards and pinning you to the grass, the sun beating down on his back as you fell into his touch, his kiss, not caring who might decide to come and check on the two of you at some point.

Angry Kisses

It wasn’t you that he was really angry at, it was himself. But he’d already taken it out on his sister, on Clarke, on everyone on the ring, and now, now he was just brewing in silence while looking out of the window at a decimated earth. He hadn’t spoken to you for days, just sent you heated glares, filled with longing and need at you from across the room, but his heart and pride didn’t allow him to talk to you yet. 

Deep down within him, you knew he was still just the same barely-a-man Bellamy that had come down with you so long ago, taking control of the camp and the delinquents. Of course he had changed, but he still loved with everything in him and gave all he had. He just wanted to be in control and safety for once in his life.

Watching him move about, his shoulder shoved roughly into Murphy’s as he stormed from the room, and your eyebrows furrowed as he didn’t even look back to apologise, and yet even Murphy knew not to test him right now. Getting to your own feet, you padded over, placing a hand on John’s shoulder and apologising on your boyfriend’s behalf, not missing the angry look shot both your ways at the contact as he rounded the corner. 

Chasing to catch up with him, you slipped into the room you were sharing just before the door shut, and you heard the heavy sigh that left his lips merely at your presence. When he made to walk away, however, your fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing him to a stop, before he roughly yanked his arm from your grip, pulling you forwards roughly as he did, underestimating how tight your grip was. 

With a gasp, you raised your hand to your shoulder, rubbing at it gently, and he spun around to face you, guilt swimming in his eyes as but anger still bubbling under the surface, rage painted on his features. “You-” gritting his teeth, you knew the storm he’d been brewing for a few days was about to break loose, “You were fully prepared to leave me.”

“Bel-”

“No!” His eyes finally met yours, tears lining them, and yet flames still burnt aggressively within them “You.. you weren’t even going to say goodbye! You were going to waltz off with a smile on your face and a ‘see you soon’ with no intention of coming back! Back to me!” His chest was heaving and you clenched your jaw, the insinuation angering you. 

“That is not what happened and you fucking know it!” You snapped, turning away from him and pacing the room, hands squeezed tightly into balls, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands as you tried not to shake, knowing you needed to stand your ground. “Everything that could have gone wrong with that damn satellite did, Bellamy! Me and Clarke had one job, it should have taken less than five minutes, and in reality, my best friend is dead, and almost me too!” His eyes softened as he watched you, his own heart aching at the loss of such a good friend. He’d found it so hard to close that door, to say goodbye when he wanted to hang on, but when he’d seen you come stumbling back in with a tear-streaked face, he knew he had no choice, but it didn’t excuse it.

“That is no reason for you to-”

“To what, Bellamy? Give up myself so she could live? I couldn’t lose any more friends Bellamy, I loved her like a sister! She was your friend too, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else! You shouldn’t have lost her!” You cried, wiping away the tears spilling down your cheeks as he took a step towards you, hands tightly woven into his hair.

“What makes you think I could’ve lost you?” The silence around you both was deafening and you swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath, while his shoulders rose and fell rapidly as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “I love you more than anything, on earth or up here, and you-” cutting him off, you pulled his lips down to meet yours, wet cheeks pressing to his hot and flushed ones, his teeth biting into your bottom lip as he marched you into the wall, the cool surface meeting your back roughly. 

It was all tongue and teeth as he tugged at the shirt on your body, ripping it over your head, barely breaking away for the action, before repeating wit his own, your hands smoothing along the skin of his chest, traces the littered scars he’d gained from your time on the planet. 

“I can’t lose you. Don’t- don’t leave me.” His words were ragged and spoken angrily, but you cupped his cheek, pulling your lips from his as he captured them once again. 

“I promise. I couldn’t. I don’t know how to.” He let his lips trail down along your neck, sucking angrily at your skin and leaving wet, red marks that would soon blossom into purple ones as he guided you towards the bed, his lips never leaving your skin.

Middle of the Night Kisses

After everything you’d all been through on earth, nightmares weren’t uncommon. One minute you’d be falling asleep happily in Bellamy’s arms and the next you’d be waking up in a cold sweat and kicking the sheets from your legs. 

You’d spent the better part of the night lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling as Bellamy slept beside you. You were exhausted, but you were afraid to close your eyes. Every time you did, you saw the bunker full of your friends burning to the ground. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t help but assume the worst, and the images were haunting you every time you closed your eyes. 

With tears lining your eyes, you rose your hands to cover your face, muffling your sobs as you tried to contain them, to be as still as possible and not wake the sleeping man beside you, who was finally getting some sleep of his own. Fingers wrapped around your wrists, pulling your palms from your face and as you met his twinkling eyes in the dark, you could see the pity on his features, the understanding. Using his thumb to smooth away the tears, he pressed a gentle and sleepy kiss to your lips, pecking your nose, each of your cheeks and then your forehead. 

Curling into his body, you cried freely against him, face buried in his neck as he simply held you, fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp, easing you into silence as you hiccuped occasionally, steadying your crying and easing you down until it was just steady breaths. 

Nightmares weren’t an uncommon thing, for either you or Bellamy, but when they did happen, it was easiest to just hold one another and kiss away the worries until the sun came around the earth, light flooding into the room and a new day starting. 

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake/reader #bellamy blake x reader smut #bellamy blake/reader smut #bellamy blake the 100 #bob morley bellamy blake #bob morley the 100 #the 100 fic #the 100

[dercolaris]

Melody

@finzphoenix, here you go. A short story to your drawing. Scriddler of course, but this time no smut. Yeah, I know, disappointing. Thanks again for the help with translation, @shin-arei!

Song to the story:

https://youtu.be/3hyBHO2xZ7c

Have fun like always. 

“Temperatures below ten degrees Celsius are expected this night. For this reason, homeless people in particular should better stay at a warm plac..." Edward switched off the small portable radio, slowly leaned back against the back of the chair. Winter had Gotham City in its icy hands and was unwilling to let go of the poor inhabitants anytime soon. As if to confirm, a thick layer of snow had lay on the otherwise dirty streets since early morning and successfully concealed the disgusting sight of a neglected city. The tinkerer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The state of the metropolis was more than worrying, but who could do anything about it? Nobody was willing to intervene and if someone really tried, the person failed sooner or later because of the leading personalities in the cursed council. The gentlemen hated change. The Riddler slowly crossed his arms over his chest, turned his face to the two large casement windows and stared out at the white landscape. Even at dawn the pristine snow was beautiful to look at. Absolutely breathtaking. The white ceiling sparkled under the last rays of the passing sun. The young man pressed the air out of his lungs. A deceptive beauty when you recalled that every year in the cold months, a huge number of people died in the slums and had to wait frozen in state for spring, only to be found by the foul smelling of the slowly rotting body.

The raven-haired man snorted softly and watched the light snowfall, saw how little mountains gradually piled up. That was probably the only benefit that living outside the center offered. While on the busy streets of Gotham the snowflakes turned into unsightly mud in no time at all, they lay untouched and pure near the forest on the ground. In general, the world around the inventor seemed to have stopped for several weeks. Edward put his hands on the back of his head and bit his lower lip lightly. On some days he missed the usual liveliness of the city, but now he also appreciated the tranquility of the suburbs. It had been a constant learning process for him. Initially, the Riddler had immense difficulties withstanding the unnatural silence and not constantly filling half the house with loud, unfitting music, which had often made his partner particularly incandescent. The raven-haired man opened his mouth slightly, felt the cold creep between his teeth. It had taken almost five months before he could linger in the almost noiseless environment without feeling uncomfortable.

As soon as nothing distracted him, his thoughts usually began to circle and literally hit him - until he either ended up in a weeping heap of rubble or thrown himself helplessly into overwhelming work. Jonathan recognized this fact relatively quickly. Well, that wasn't a big surprise. He was a psychiatrist, after all. Together with his partner, the inventor was able to break this devil's spiral in the end. Edward got up with a small grunt and walked through the messy workshop, carefully stepping over piles of scraps of metal on the dusty floor. Edward had no muse to clean up. He also mastered chaos better than anyone, so why bother and create order that wasn't necessary? He strolled into the adjacent kitchen and stopped at the large table in the middle. A small, brightly painted bowl caught his attention. Fragrant biscuits. The man touched the warm pastries and smiled in amusement, then finally stole one of the golden yellow thalers. He nibbled on the biscuit, occasionally wiping the tiny crumbs off his face.

The Master of Fear was an extremely arranged baker and, above all, an unbeatably talented cook. Something the inventor was actually benefit from. He could swing the wooden spoon reasonably well himself, but spending hours in the kitchen and wasting his precious time was just not his thing. He was all the happier about the fact that his better half dutifully took on this task. The raven-haired man took another biscuit for a small afternoon snack and left the kitchen with quick steps. Was Jonathan in his study? Since the former psychiatrist had completely renounced crime, he has consciously looked for new tasks to meaningfully fill the sudden void in his new life. It had been an unexpectedly tough realization for the brown-haired man that his admittedly rather staged existence as a respected villain in the underground was based on a simple feeling: unbridled hatred through years of disappointment. In the end, Scarecrow had gradually alienated himself to a point at which he could no longer see his old self in the mirror.

The tinkerer still remembered the sultry day in summer when his partner asked out of the blue whether there was any chance for him to make peace with his troubled past. From that moment on, the raven-haired man stood by his side and discussed with Jonathan why his life had gotten so off the rails. Killer Croc was minimally to blame for this drastic development. The stones for the very destructive path of the former psychiatrist had been laid long before the incident with the hungry crocodile. The inventor looked curiously into the older man's spacious study and was slightly startled. Nobody to see. He shrugged slightly and searched the rest of the first floor, then paused for a moment in the entrance hall of the house. To his surprise, the other's shoes were missing from the black doormat. Edward opened the heavy wooden door and stared out into the twilight, seeing suspicious but slowly fading prints in the otherwise untouched snow. They clearly led in the direction of the forest. He grabbed his winter jacket from the clothes rack and slipped into his heavy work boots, then quickly looked for a scarf and gloves from the chest of drawers. He hurried out into the merciless cold, trying not to lose sight of the shoe prints under the heavier snowfall.

The young man trudged through the white landscape, trembling again and again as the icy wind seized his body. Only when he reached the shelter of the trees it finally become more bearable. The raven-haired man followed the tracks and wandered through the dark forest, cursing himself for not having taken a lantern with him. Even a small flashlight would have been extremely useful now. However, turning back was no longer an option for the inventor. Presumably the hardly visible prints would have disappeared completely after his return. The Riddler huffed heavily and dragged himself through the masses of snow, occasionally brushing the white powder off his knees. After a while an unfamiliar sound settled in his ears. He stopped abruptly and slowly closed his eyes, listening in disbelief to the soft melody. Clearly a violin. Edward frowned. He finally fought his way through the gradually falling night and reached the stony wall of the old, long-abandoned cemetery. The young man came closer to the source of the music with every step now. An all-consuming blackness had enveloped the long-forgotten gravestones and seemed no longer to want to release the nameless dead in this place into the forgiving light.

The raven-haired man walked carefully over the abandoned burial site, trying not to trip over roots or other obstacles on his way. Suddenly he saw a faint light in the distance. The Riddler gasped slightly and moved purposefully towards the impressive mausoleum in the middle of the cemetery. From here it was probably only a stone's throw to the origin of the melody. The tinkerer wandered around the great tomb and instantly froze at the unexpected sight behind it. He blinked slightly, believing for a moment that his mind was trying to trick him, as it often does. The Master of Fear stood on one of the innumerable, neglected resting places, only illuminated by the ancient lantern next to the splintered tombstone. The healthy eye was relaxed and closed and formed a strong contrast to the constantly open, gray opal, which was dead and rigid in the eye socket of the skull. In his left hand Jonathan was holding an antique-looking violin, the other hand led the accompanying bow with elegant movements over the strings of the instrument.

Edward couldn't help but just look at him speechless. Did the former psychiatrist ever mention that he could make music? The young man breathed a little faster, watched white mist rising from his nose. It was unspeakably cold, but at that moment all the ice in his body seemed to melt away and to disappear under the gentle sounds of the music. The atmosphere was saturated with an unknown harmony that the inventor had never felt before in the presence of the older man. Contrary to his wish to just keep watching his partner, he strolled slowly through the snow towards him. The brown-haired man suddenly stopped in his play and opened his eye, searched the cemetery for the unexpected troublemaker. As he spotted his lover he lowered the violin slowly. The younger one shook his head slightly and spoke louder than planned: “Please don't let my presence stop you, John. Keep playing.”

The other just stared at him in silence, his body visibly chilled from the cold around him. The blue veins protruded from his demolished skin. Although he was wearing his black coat, it did not offer any protection against the freezing temperatures. The Riddler pressed his lips tightly together and began to shiver barely noticeably. Had he really destroyed this unique moment by his possibly unwanted presence? The inventor walked hesitantly towards his partner and came to a stop immediately in front of him. The former psychiatrist still hadn't moved an inch. What the hell was going on in his twisted mind? Edward tried to manage a small smile, but failed because of a strange feeling in his chest. The surroundings were saturated with wavering, unspoken, maybe even long repressed emotions and every verbal utterance of those present seemed completely inappropriate. Words couldn't do justice to this meaningful situation. The raven-haired man slowly closed his eyes and breathed a little lower than before, waiting for a reaction from his partner in the almost noiseless night.

There were endless minutes of absolute silence around them. The tinkerer was about to give up and go back to the house when suddenly the melancholy play of the violin sounded again. The young man shivered in excitement. He opened his eyes almost cautiously, afraid that this slight movement in his face would ruin the moment again. Contrary to his fear, the older one continued to play, his facial expressions more relaxed than ever before in their long-term relationship. Jonathan's hand guided the bow over the thin strings with unimaginable gentleness, creating a dark and at the same time uniquely beautiful melody. Edward instantly lost himself in the depth of the music. The cemetery, actually a sign of inevitable impermanence, suddenly came to life. The Riddler sank to the ground, sat down in the cold snow in front of the former psychiatrist. He watched the thin man with pure and absolute honest fascination.

A light breeze found its way through the graves and finally danced around the thin figure of the Master of Fear, lifting the long cloak slightly into the air. The Scarecrows nostrils kept piling up thick fog, gradually mingling with the white snowflakes above him. At this unique moment, Jonathan looked like a fallen angel of death, who played the last song for the dead at this resting place. Edward put his chin on his knees and listened to the comforting sounds of the violin, finally allowing himself to be led into dreaming. After a while, however, the older one slowed down and ended his own composed masterpiece with a drawn out tone. The silence fell over the cemetery again, giving way to the unmistakable truth that life in this place had come to an end. The former psychiatrist pushed his breath steadily out of his lungs, then stepped up to his partner in no hurry.

The Riddler watched as the gaunt man sat down in the snow in front of him and put the instrument carefully in his lap. He touched the tinkerer's oil-smeared hands, held them in the soft glow of the lantern without speaking a single word. The raven-haired man felt that this moment was something special. Something none of them could pinpoint. Edward returned the gentle pressure on his hands and looked into the blue eyes of the Master of Fear, immediately sank into the depths of the healthy opal. The snow finally covered their bodies under the veil of the hidden, preventing outsiders further glimpses of the intimate togetherness of the lovers.

#DC #Batman #Scriddler #Riddlecrow #Riddler #Scarecrow #Jonathan Crane #edward nygma #arkhamverse #finzphoenix #shin-arei #dercolaris