#because he’s a fucking grown man and should act as one

[philtatosbuck]

mikaelson stans are deeply unserious but the worst kinds are the klaro klaus stans, the “klaus is a big meanie” elijah stans and the “kol is so mistreated” kol stans

#like i'm all for acknowledging klaus' wrongs #but you can't at your grown age keep blaming klaus for all of elijah's shit lmfao #you cannot keep using 'klaus always ruins what elijah has' when elijah is LETTING HIM #not only that but he HELPS HIM DO IT to their other siblings #elijah is not a victim of klaus' insanity he's a fucking enabler #if ANYONE could take on klaus pre hybrid and win. it was elijah. #he didn't do that. he willingly played a hand in klaus ruining damn near everyones lives #ESPECIALLY katherine but y'all love to pretend katherine should just ignore all that #elijah is quite literally the only one who could actually beat klaus' ass when he acts up but no! he's right by his side doing it too #i don't have words for the kl*ro klaus stans. idk who that bitch is lmfao #the 'kol is so mistreated' gang is just ridiculous #like. yeah. it'd be hard to deny he gets mistreated by his siblings #but he's not? some uwu baby? who needs to be 'protected' or defended #he's also a grown fucking man #the 'mistreated' thing goes out the window as SOON as he leaves his family's presence #he's done as much shit as they all have #there's no room for argument that he's 'better' than them #because we didn't see it on screen #just deeply unserious. all of you. #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson

[tedthetalk]

.🧸.

#the audacity my mom has to tell me I need to be careful about what I ask my dad for for Christmas (cuz he’ll stress himself out) #like first of all. he’s a grown ass man. he should one: be able to handle me potentially being slightly dissapointed #and TWO: fuckin know me well enough to know I won’t be #and second of all. I WAS CAREFUL. #IM ALWAYS FUCKING CAREFUL #I’ve been Not Complaining around him for fucking years. because I love him and I want him to be happy. #cw vent #anyway. if you constantly act like you need to make up for not doing a good enough job at whatever role you have #teacher parent friend etc #it’s going to make you fucking exhausting to be around

[tiredsadpeach]

Update they both hate me because I told the child one of them was harassing the acc he could block to try and stop it

#I knew they’d find out tbh and idc their reaction is all I need to know #the one that was harassing a minor is the same one someone said was a piece of shit when the psychiatrist stuff was happening #her bf stood by and watched her harass his friend like they’re both vague tweeting that oh well she didn’t know his age man idc the age just #made me more angry the fact that you did it in the first place is fucked up it always has been and y’all both know I think that #if y’all tweeted about not liking someone on priv and that was it I wouldn’t care #but it’s the constant pqrting because you know it’ll upset that person and give anxiety etc that makes it harassment and makes me mad #and now they’re both tweeting things like oh well you shouldn’t be following him at your big age how dare you disrespect us #an adult just knowing a minor is not a bad thing like holy shit get off the Internet please #plus I couldn’t message without following so I followed in hopes to be mutuals so I could warn him but I shouldn’t have to have an excuse #following isn’t some intimate thing y’all just wanna hate me more #she also tweeted about how I lied (I didn’t) and that she’d expose me #like for what? being a bad friend like two years ago? when we talked it out I fully agreed that yeah I shouldn’t have talked about those #topics etc bro I literally said there was no excuse and I’m sorry it all happened but it’s pretty obvious I have grown and changed to be #better you can’t expose me when I have receipts of me taking responsibility and doing what I could to show I was wrong #and I’m sorry how is trying to protect a minor who you are harassing the thing that drives you away for good #did I disrespect a toxic relationship oh no how dare I y’all need to get help friends of your partner shouldn’t be harassed just because bpd #jealousy like I have bpd too I really hate some of my bf’s friends and wish he wouldn’t talk to them but what do I do about it? nothing #i distract myself maybe but I know if I do what I want yknow like telling my bf to stop being friends with someone I know I’d be in the wron #and I know he should break up with me etc etc like that doesn’t mean I don’t have these thoughts which sure aren’t healthy but at least I’m #not fucking acting on them like at least give yourself a safe outlet idc when you just tweet about it on priv most of the time but this pqrt #shit has to stop if you wanna stay my friend I’m obviously at my limit with how y’all are both so content with how toxic y’all’s relationshi #is and won’t do anything about it to the point minors are being harassed but oh it’s okay I didn’t know and I stopped when I knew #how can you watch your bf harass a friend of yours just because y’all ARE FRIENDS god it’s so infuriating #she never apologized for the psychiatrist stuff btw lmao #I know they both want a reaction out of me so I’ll act first and apologize or something but I just don’t care anymore #I’m done man like that Drake and Josh episode but fuck Drake bell btw #kinda hope next time I open twt I’m blocked since they want a reaction so bad #like nah I’m tweeting like nothing happened because y’all really showed your priorities and morals #maybe y’all should do what your bpd tweets have been saying and just have eachother y’all don’t need anyone else

[alpaca-clouds]

Some historical context for Olrox

Okay, let me prephase this with one important message: Castlevania Nocturne made me really happy by making the plot all about colonialism, as colonialism and its fallout and how it influences us to this day is a topic that I am very passionate about. We do not talk enough about it. The US does not talk enough about it because it could make white people feel uncomfortable. And here in Germany we do not talk about it, because we act as if this had nothing to do with us at all.

But the show talks about it and I love it.

And I honestly also gotta say that I love that the BI_PoC character have a concrete cultural heritage. Olrox is Aztec, Annette is Yoruba, and Drolta is Egyptian. Other shows: Please take notes!

But let's talk Olrox, because he is so fucking interesting and amazing!

We know about him that he is Aztec and also that he is 250 years old. Or roughly that old by the time he kills Julia. Which would put either his birth or his turning somewhere around 1530.

Now, the fall of the Aztec Empire has a very exact date: August 13th, 1521. But you should keep in mind that this does not mean that on that day the Aztec's are extinct. To this day there is still 1,5 million people speaking Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and preserving some of the Aztec cultural traditions. It was just that on that day the empire construct fell to Cortez and the Spaniad conquistadors and a lot of Aztecs went into exile to flee the genocide that Cortez was bringing upon them.

The question of course is: Was Olrox still human at this time or was he already a vampire? From his dialogue it is clear that he was at least alive and grown enough to remember the fall of the empire and the distruction Cortez and his men brought upon them. But you can bet it was very traumatic.

I also am assuming he was turned by a white man. Because so far my assumption is that vampirism is an old world thing that got brought to the new world through colonialism. (Mostly because in Dracula's court we do not see any new world vampires.)

Now, the other interesting thing is what he says about his dead lover. The one Julia killed. So, first the "town in Massachusetts" he speaks about is clearly Stockbridge. Which was the town in which many Mohicans have settled during the colonial times, as well as other people from the Iroquois Nations. Now, it should be noted that the Mohicans were not part of the Iroquois alliance and in fact went to war with the Iroquois, but by the time colonialism really geared up there was some cooperation between the Mohicans and Iroquois.

Due to this they were in an alliance with the Oneida (who were part of the Iroquois) by the time of the Revolutionary war. Now, the Revolutionary War created a lot of conflict between the Iroquois nations, because they did not agree which side they should fight on. Of course both sides promised that they could keep their land, but the Mohawk, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca did not trust the colonists and hence sided with the British, while the Oneida and Tuscarora (and through them also the Mohicans) sided with the Colonists.

And the dead lover clearly was among those siding with the colonists. Now, a quick refresher for the non-Americans (and the Americans who slept to history class, which is understandable). The Revolutionary War lasted from April 19, 1775 to September 3, 1783 (which, yes, also means that Julia and Richter probably were in the US during the war the entire time and the "evil" Julia was fighting probably was linked to it). And of course we all know how it ended for the Indigenous people: The colonists won, countless Indigenous folks died on both sides, only to get booted of their land soon after. The Oneida und Mohicans were made to move westwards not soon after the war ended. So, yes, Olrox would have seen that happen.

Now, an interesting thing in his dialogue was when Erzebet said: "We will create a new world." To which he replies: "I have heard that one before." And she says: "This time we are going to make it to last."

And the big question is to what this is refering. Is it refering to the colonialization or is it refering to the revolutionary war? Or something entirely different. In both cases it would be possible. And yes, the American Revolution definitely were claiming to create a new world. But was it that what he refered to or something else?

Well, never the less: Interesting character. Really good writing.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne spoilers #castlevania olrox #american history #history #colonialism #colonial history #aztec

[taintedbenevolence]

"𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊." — YANDERE DAN HENG · IMBIBITOR LUNAE x FEMALE READER

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 — nsfw, short prompt 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — Not proofread! Use of profanities, non-consensual display of affection, obsessive & possessive behavior, (brief insinuations/mentions of) breeding kink. Dan Heng bites and marks reader. notation: any character participants are aged 18 and up. just for the record. I don't write sexual content for minors. please know that.

"I warned you," he huffed with mild irritation, as he thrusted himself inside of you for what seemed to be another, countless time. "Don't test me."

It was a bad enough idea when you had decided to argue, telling him that you'd find a way out, pointing out all the individual flaws of the manner in which he kept you trapped.

You'd begun to find solutions to your inescapable cage with this man, and it filled him with indignation, because he was entirely enraptured by you, and he refused to let you go. The very thought of you escaping was something he couldn't stand.

Being all alone was the last thing he needed. Break his arms and legs, but he'll cling to you like there's no one else he loves more and needs.

But seeing as how you'd decided to try and make an attempt to escape, he had zero intent to let you go now, more than ever. He pondered on just what he'd do to finally ingrain in your head somewhere that you were not going to be leaving – not anytime soon, nor any time later.

He was fine doing anything and everything to keep you by his side.

He'd pump you full of his seed, fill you up with his cum day and night, if it'd remind you that you had no one and no place to go but him and only him, that you were meant to stay with him forever. You would be his and his alone. Right?

He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. With all that he's gone through, he at the very least deserves this. Wouldn't you agree?

Even so, you'd grown accustomed to the feel of your wrists bound by chains and cuffs above your head, your ankles tied down similarly whilst his tail coils around your waist, holding you down in place as he pushes in and out of you.

All nice and tied up, open and ready to take whatever was going to ruin you tonight. Would it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock this time?

It was a chilling feeling that never failed to scare you—the feeling of helplessness that the Vidyadhara always managed to incite within you. It terrified you—to be taken advantage of in such way without being able to do anything about it.

Whether his carnal instincts were led by his previous incarnation or not, you had not the slightest idea, and frankly, you didn't really want to know either. 

All you could do was stay down while he fucked your brains out. ... You should probably watch your mouth the next time you're mad.

He drinks up your mewls, your abused, puffy hole unable to handle any more, but he licks your tears away, seemingly uncaring about how you beg him to stop. In his eyes, this is a punishment. If you keep acting like this, he really won't be able to be as kind as he wishes to be.

He doesn't mean to hurt you, and if you'd let him, oh how he'd worship your body without leaving a single mark, but he can't help himself if you keep behaving yourself like a brat. Please, can't you comply at the very least once? Would it kill you to show some acceptance for him?

Maybe.

And with how many times he has cum inside you, it upsets him that you really can't be impregnated by him. It'd delight him to see your belly swollen with his baby, but alas, it's only a fantasy.

A fantasy that he can't help but try to indulge in every time he fucks you raw.

Perhaps it's a little wrong of him to enjoy how much you cry whenever he does this to you. Just maybe. Maybe. Your cheeks all red, stained with tears, pretty puffed lips all swollen because of his rough, frequent kisses — it makes his heart swell.

He loves it. He loves you.

His face is nuzzled up in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin, leaving numerous red marks that most likely will stay for a long time, if not forever, his mouth moving to leave more bruises upon your skin to claim you as his own.

"Dan Heng—" You manage to moan, almost choking on your tears, feeling him push in and out with a rapidity you cannot measure. "'ts too much, 'm cumming, please, a-ah—!"

It's all too much. It hurts too much. You feel too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, it's all mixing up and your brain by now has been reduced to mush, your words a babbling mess as you whine, whine, and whine, to a point where you don't know how you have not lost your voice.

"Mine, mine, mine, please, s' good," you hear him murmur incoherently to you, the only sound left in the area being the wet squelch, the slapping sounds of skin against skin, your unstable cries, and your sobbing along with his sweet moans as he makes love to you. "P-please, don't leave, mgh-"

Any trace of his gentle demeanor was thrown away from the moment he had you pressed on the mattress. There was only a burning need left in him.

A need only you could satiate. An obsession that would never end.

And for what he's done to you, he knows you harbor hate, but he knows it makes you feel good, so why play pretend? ♡

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

A / N - It's a little shorter than usual, sorry </3 Writer's block has been absolutely demolishing me, but I'm hanging in there, I've got a few requests which I'm almost done with rn.. Sorry for the inactivity, I'll be hopefully posting more often if I'm not too burnt-out. Getting this one out so I can finally publish the Neuvi request..

#honkai star rail #hsr #yandere hsr #imbibitor lunae #dan heng #dan heng smut #imbibitor lunae smut #female reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x female reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng il #dan heng imbibitor lunae #yandere male #yandere #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #soft yandere #yandere x darling #dom yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere writing #yandere imagines #hsr yandere #yandere dan heng #dan heng x you #yandere dan heng x reader #saccharine.affinity

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

-

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness.  Everything feels romantic.  Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix,  Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.   

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium.  He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance. 

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate.  A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in.  Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad.  He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek. 

You poke that cheek.  A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.  

“Do not,” he says. 

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.” 

You obey his demand for silence.  For about six seconds. 

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably. 

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says.  “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed.  You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him.  Felix sighs but slows his pace.  To your surprise, he answers your question.  “A month,” he says.  “I’ve been working there a month.” 

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say.  “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop.  Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together.  He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.   

“I already told you,” he says.  “My job is checking tickets.  Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.   

He smiles.  It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow.  He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver. 

“Let me guess,” he says.  “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart?  You can’t hold one down.  You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they?  Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring.  And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it.  Except by acting out.  It’s fun, right?  Looking for trouble.  Makes you feel something for a minute.  Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside.  You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped.  Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth. 

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues.  “You told me I was a good boy, yeah?  Your words.  And you think you’re bad.  A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?” 

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature. 

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says.  “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you?  You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay.  But you don’t make it easy.  And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.” 

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface.  To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background. 

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask. 

He is still smiling. 

He laughs, a low chuckle.  He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.  “I’m just the same as you.  Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time.  Just so good, you know?”  He is almost theatrical in tone.   “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you.  Isn’t it?” 

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips.  It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes. 

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper. 

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good.  If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours.  He abruptly steps back. 

Oh.  You blink quickly.  Yes.  Of course.  It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it?  He does not need to flaunt it.  He can just smile at you. 

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his.  He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street.  So seemingly innocent.  Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat. 

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples. 

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs.  He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life.  It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are.  “I’m not sick.  See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run.  Twisted, on the other hand… well…” 

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate.  You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you. 

You smile back at him. 

You still intend to win.

-

It is a twenty minute walk.  Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations.  Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires.  He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed.   Very, very detailed.   

“Um, right,” he says.  “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.” 

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario.  He looks a little wan. 

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished. 

“I dunno, get creative.  My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh?  Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out.  Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end. 

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.  

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says.  “I am standing right beside you.  You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.”  You do not bother hiding your texts. 

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies.  “It sounds like my business.” 

“Well, it’s not.  We’ve already established the world revolves around me.  You’re the supporting character, pal.” 

“Right,” he says.  He blinks at the screen.  In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?” 

It never hurts to be thorough.  You type the address and send it to the boys. 

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes. 

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat.  “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over.  “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt.  “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow.  “Is this what you call winning?” he asks. 

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows.  “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say.  “And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown.  Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips.  He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him.  “Come on,” he says.  “We’re almost there.”  

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse.  You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house.  Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway.  It is an ostentatious design to say the least.  You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.  

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties.  “This place belongs to my parents.  They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.” 

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach.  “About your background, I mean.  You and me really are alike.” 

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings.  Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite.  It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door. 

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks.  He stands silent for a long moment.  When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say.  “You know.” 

“Uhh.”  He blinks quickly.  “I have feelings all the time.  Every day.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That sounds exhausting.  Explains a lot about you.” 

“All right.”  He shakes his head.  He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look.  You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door.  The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing.  It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping.  Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire.  You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips. 

Felix is none-the-wiser.  He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code.  It beeps and goes quiet.   You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight.  He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans.  Unassuming, gentle, sweet.  Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass.  But he can.  He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you. 

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space.  You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack.  The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care.  The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name. 

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts.  “Sorry for the mess.  I wasn’t expecting company.” 

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away.  You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing.  Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft.  It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky.  And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says.  “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him.  The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality.  Mutual objectification is more your style.  Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings. 

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door.  “It’s freaky.” 

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking.  Ugh.   You shake it off and push open his bedroom door. 

He shakes his head and leads you in.  He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison.  His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets.  Yes.  That is more your thing.  Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core.  You want him to lose control.  You want to drive him crazy.  You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer.  A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top.  He takes it out and immediately unlocks you. 

The cuffs fall to the floor.  He scoops them up and jingles them in your face. 

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say.  “You evil son of a bitch.”   

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings.  But he knew you wanted to play him.  He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer.  Now there is no reason to linger.  Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again. 

He is going to make you ask for it. 

That is not your style.  You hate being out-smarted.  And you really, really, really hate losing. 

“Right,” you say.  “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says.  “Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom.  It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights.  You are swimming in blue, breathing it in.  His hair, the room, and moonlight. 

You will never see this colour the same way again.  Of that much you are certain. 

“Blue,” you say. 

His brow crinkles.  “Blue?” he repeats. 

“Mm.”  You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze.   “Red.  Yellow.  Green.  Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath.  The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you.  He is dazzling.  This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room.  “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…” 

“Uh-huh,” he says.  He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely.  Now he knows what you are capable of doing.  Now you understand each other. 

He follows you, assessing every step you take.  There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more. 

“And what does blue mean?” he asks.  “To you?” 

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins.  So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting.  The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces. 

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth.  His confidence is easy.  He needs no grand display of machoism.  He just smiles that pretty pink mouth.  The glitter on his cheek sparkles.    

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says.  Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.” 

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand.  You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table.  You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.  

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well.  Because it is not as though he loves the clock.  It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents.  You can read him that easily too.  He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks.  He likes neon and blue and you. 

“Put what back?” you ask.  You have reached the front door.  Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. 

You push the door open. 

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say.  With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?” 

Red to stop.  Yellow to pause.  Green to give in. 

“Blue,” he says.  To play. 

You smile.  You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.    

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came.  He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.   

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “Don’t make me do this.” 

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice.  There is nothing soft about him.  He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body.  You feel each glance.  A shiver races down your spine.  Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze. 

It also gets you so, so hot. 

All that tension snaps. 

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate.  You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe.  You show him no mercy this time.  Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again. 

You glance over your shoulder.  He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused. 

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again.   Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you. 

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth.  You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block.  There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes. 

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you.  You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone.  A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you. 

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes.  Your heart leaps.  The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend.  You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light.  You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds.   But running on the road will expose you too quickly. 

You will not surrender that easily.  He knows that. 

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea.  You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow.  He is not behind you so you race back to his house. 

There is no way he will circle back here.  He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates.  He would never guess you ran back into his house.  Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait. 

You run back up the driveway.  The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked.  Nope. He locked it.  Maybe that is why he was delayed. 

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in.  But no, you are still winning.  He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.    

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows.  You do not think he had time to set the alarm.  Did he?  Maybe that is why he was so far behind. 

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard.  You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape.  The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around.  There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit.    In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight.  Of course. 

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath.  You strategize your next move.  Should you pose on one of the pool chairs?  Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum.  Someone is making their way down the side of the house.  

You panic.  You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide.   You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it. 

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard.  He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered.  He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open. 

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence.   You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.    

 “I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.  You should have known better.  Of course he had the same idea as you.  Now what?  How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move? 

You peek around the storage trunk.  Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight.  Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut.  He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock.  He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him. 

So that is why he took so long.  He unlocked the gate before giving chase.  He laid a trap and you ran right into it. 

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper. 

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly.  It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches. 

Your heart tempers itself when he stops.  He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.  

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard.  “You don’t need to hide.  I promise I’m not mad.”  He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees.  He hums thoughtfully to himself.  “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…”  He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning.  “Hmm, hmm, hmm…” 

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin.  You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him.  You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you.  So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him.   You almost want to scream.  He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him. 

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone.  He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble.  Even though you are far away, it makes you jump.  You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. 

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it.  He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing.  Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says.  “I thought we were turning into friends.  Don’t you want to be my friend?” 

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table.  He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you. 

He is giving you time, you realize.  He wants you worked up.  He wants your heart racing.  He wants you quivering and soft and afraid. 

You look around frantically, searching for an escape. 

Your hope rises then plummets.  The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap.  It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you. 

You jump at another slam.  It was the shed door.  He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside. 

“Come on,” he says into the shed.  “Don’t be scared.” 

You take a deep breath.  You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned.  You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can. 

He is just as quiet.  You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena.  Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth. 

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him. 

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth.  He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand.  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  “Fight me.  Brat.” 

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before.  There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front.  You kick your legs as he straddles your backside.  He brings your hands together on the base of your spine. 

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration.  Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back. 

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up.  He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it.  You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm. 

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth.  It hovers like he expects you to start screaming.  You just exhale heavily, glaring.  “All right,” he says.  “Very good.  Come on.” 

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground.  He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him.  He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way. 

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs.  He catches you quickly.   You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again. 

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between.  With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together. 

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly. 

“Not quite,” he says, laughing.  “I’ve been picturing something else.” 

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open.  The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier. 

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough.  You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard.  But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand.   It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand. 

“This is what I was picturing,” he says.  It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper.  His lips graze your ear and you shiver. 

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth.  A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart.  His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons. 

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you.  “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.  He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more.  “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?”  You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips.  He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly.  “God, that’s hot,” he says.  “You might be a brat but your pussy...   It’s begging for it, isn’t it?  Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm?  Hmm?” 

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns.  You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast. 

“Tell me,” he says.  “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.” 

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply. 

“You can do better than that,” he says.  “Come on.  Show me how much you want it.  You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.  I can feel it, hmm?  Gonna feel it when you come.  Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that?  What’s it want?” 

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says.  “Fuck you.  You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need.  You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right?  Go on.  Show me you want it.  Show me.” 

Your chest is heaving.  Your eyes close.  You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately.  It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking. 

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you.  He knows you are about to come.  This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand.  You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you.  The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue.   He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch. 

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth.  You catch your breath, slumping against his chest. 

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head.  You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth.  You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers.  You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself.  Strands of blue fall across his forehead.  He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel. 

He grins around his fingers.  Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his.  He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths.  His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his.  You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses. 

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly.  “Because for what we do next…”  He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  For that, I need all of you.” 

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you.  You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright.   You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath. 

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone.  You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch.  You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant. 

You follow him to the open door.  One step, two steps. 

Then you say, “Blue.” 

You take off running into the house. 

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you. 

He slams the door shut behind him.  You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside.  It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape. 

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide.  There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances.  Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard.  And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about. 

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.    

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice.  His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual.  “Stop hiding.  I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…” 

You peer at him between some boxes.  He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too.  The glittering amusement has left his eyes.  They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air. 

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it.  He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place.  He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables. 

You shuffle with him, moving when he does.  He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses. 

“Come on now,” he says, turning around.  He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple.  “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says.  “I know you, sweetheart.  You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah?  Hmm.  You’re fast.  I bet you’re flexible too.  I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions.  Get you making all sorts of noises for me…” 

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move.  Your limbs are still shaky.  Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch. 

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses.  Did he hear that?  Maybe not.  He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs.  It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns. 

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs.  In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.”  Then he smiles again.  He turns in your direction slowly.  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you.  Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house. 

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good.  You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.” 

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet.  It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.    

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says.  He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you.  “Don’t make me come get you,” he says.  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”    

You shuffle to the side.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs. 

“Right,” he says.  “Fine.  We’ll do it that way.” 

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away.  You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on.  It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide. 

You can hear Felix stomping after you.  You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. 

You yelp when he bursts in behind you.  This time, he does not give.   He grabs you roughly when you try to run again.  With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.  He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back. 

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom.  “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?”  He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him.  He smiles.  “Worth a shot, no?” 

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says. 

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you.  He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him.  “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.” 

You were right.  You will never see the colour blue the same way again.  You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again. 

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open.  He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough.  He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick.  He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water.  You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face.  He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars.  Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he says.  He reaches down to wipe a tear.  “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle. 

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach.  He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress.  Then he swoops up.  He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything. 

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips.   He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.” 

“Oh god,” is your rough reply. 

“It’s Felix,” he says.  “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

He has a condom in his bedside drawer.  Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?”  He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips.  You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy.  “No, sweetheart,” he says.  “I’m gonna have all of you.  And you – are gonna – take it.” 

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you.  You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more.  When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before.  You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you.  You let them melt into the physical sensations.  When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you.  You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.  His face is in your neck when he laughs.  It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.  He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes.  It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs. 

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle.  He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it.  Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck.  You get uncharacteristically bashful.  Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much.  Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed.  Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile. 

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks. 

You nod.  He smiles. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“That’s nice.  Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh. 

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes. 

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while.  You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light.  You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head.  “What!  Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning.  “I better be prepared.” 

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you.  I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says.  “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back.  “I still won this round.” 

He lifts your face so he can look at you.  Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you.  You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore.  Vexatious vixen, indeed.   

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you say.  You kiss again, long and sweet.  Then you bop him on the nose.  “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head.  Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.   

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #skz x you #stray kids x you

[wondersinwaynemanor]

thinking how Dick always finds ways to hang out with his brothers. but reality is that, they have grown with different schedules and locations and responsibilities. his brothers have partners now. Jason is a dad for goodness sake.

Dick finds himself often emotional. he is a man nearing his 30's, but he still often misses his younger brothers.

so Dick tries.

Dick, calls Jason, who is in Star City: Hey, Little Wing. You free this Saturday? There's a new action movie. Want to check it out?

Jason, pouts at the other end of the phone: Sorry, Dickie. I have to attend to Lian's reading playdate at her friend's house. Roy refuses to go.

Dick, feels a pang on his chest: Oh, of course, yeah. I'm glad you're there to teach Roy how to read.

Jason, laughs which makes Dick smile: Hey, lay off! But maybe we can watch another movie next month? My schedule is kinda booked this month-

Dick, doesn't mean to cut his brother off: No problem, Jay. Next time, yeah? Maybe me and Wally can visit soon.

Jason: You both should. Lian is asking for her favorite uncles. Please don't tell Tim and Conner I told you that.

Dick, laughs: I'll see you soon, Little Wing. Miss you. Say "hi" to Lian for me. And "fuck you" to Roy for me.

Jason, chuckles which makes Dick smile again: You got it, Goldie. See ya!

Dick keeps trying.

Dick knocks on the door of Tim's room and cherishes this moment, because Tim is barely at the Manor. Well, none of them mostly are at the Manor for years now. He enters when Tim says "come in".

Dick: Timmy!! Want to try this new coffee-

he closes his mouth when he sees Tim in front of the mirror, wearing a suit and fixing a tie.

Dick, frowns: Oh, you leaving already?

Tim bites his lip as he concentrates to fixing the tie. Dick chuckles and approaches Tim to do it for him.

Tim: Yes, going to Metropolis for a business meeting. Then off to New York after, booked that hotel for me and Kon.

Tim gestures to the packed bag on the floor.

Dick, feels a pang on his chest: Oh, right right. I almost forgot.

he backs up and smiles at his brother.

Dick: Well, looks like you're ready to go. You look handsome, Baby Bird.

Tim, smiles: Thank you, Dick.

he gives Dick a quick hug and Dick wishes it was longer.

Tim: See you next week, Dick!

Dick: Have fun! See you, Timmy!

before Tim exists his room, he turns around.

Tim: You were saying something a while ago? Sorry, I didn't catch it.

Dick: It's nothing.

Tim: You better tell me when I come back. Bye, Dick!

Dick, says to the empty room: Bye...

and Dick keeps trying.

Dick is barely with Damian during patrols anymore, so he's glad his brother called for back up, since Bruce was in another planet with the Justice League. Damian has grown so much, he's been using new suits, because he has outgrown a few of the older ones.

Nightwing: Hey, Robin. Want to catch some Big Belly burgers after we freshen up?

Robin: I think I'll have to pass, Nightwing. Superboy is picking me up in a few.

Nightwing, feels a pang on his chest: Right, right. He better not drop you.

Robin, snorts, but he smiles so Nightwing smiles also: He would never.

before Nightwing leaves Robin on the rooftop, he leans down to kiss the top of his head. it hits him that very long ago, he acted as his father figure when Batman was gone.

Nightwing: Take care, okay? Love you.

Nightwing thought he would not get a response, but as soon as he turns around to head for home, he hears Robin.

Robin: Love you, Akhi.

Dick has come to accept that his brothers are grown up now. that maybe he wasn't part of their lives anymore, he could honestly cry-

so when the door opens of their house, he expects to see Wally, bringing flowers and food like usual, but he sees his brothers instead. Jason has a box on his hand, which happens to be a copy of the movie they were supposed to watch. Tim has a bag of coffee from the new cafe place. Damian has a bag from Big Belly Burger. and if there tears on his eyes when they hang out that night, at least he's got his brothers to cuddle with on the couch.

#dick grayson i love you #big brother dick grayson is the best #big brother dick grayson #batfamily prompt #batfamily #batbros #batkids #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dc universe #dc #the mentioned ships i am cryingggg #dad jason todd #that should be a tag??? #i wonder how big belly burger tastes like #batfam #dc comics

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 20] Beach Day

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, voyeurism

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Your beach day starts a little late since the three of you were so tired after being woken up in the middle of the night. Truthfully, if it were up to you, you’d continue sleeping. But it isn’t up to you since Ren wakes you up, reminding you that he has to go out. This trip is for him, you can’t just stay locked inside sleeping.

Unlike earlier, the place is packed with people, which makes Satoru feel slightly uneasy. Ren seems to be happy, which is all that matters anyway. You settle down, laying down a towel on the sand, immediately grabbing the sunscreen to put on Ren. 

“Sit down for a minute, play with the sand or something.” You order, and Ren pouts because he immediately wants to rush and go to the water. Satoru notices, and his immediate suggestion is, 

“Let’s build a sand castle, that sounds like fun!”

“Let me put some sunscreen on you too, Satoru.” You say, but Satoru acts like he doesn’t hear you. Satoru is shirtless, just wearing swimming trunks– And you know how he is, he will most definitely get sunburnt. You roll your eyes, allowing him to get sunburnt because you’re not about to argue with a grown man.

You watch as Satoru and Ren kneel down on the sand and begin to play with it, Satoru trying to guide Ren on how to make a sand castle… Satoru isn’t the greatest instructor since he’s never really messed with making a sand castle before. It doesn’t really matter anyway because Ren isn’t paying all that much attention. 

“You can go now!” You tell Ren, and he stands up, sprinting to the water. Satoru runs after his son, making sure to keep his eye on him. You’re thankful for Satoru since he allows you to lay down and relax.

Maybe you should watch how Ren plays so gleefully in the sand, but your eyes feel so heavy. You’re still so tired. Maybe it’s all the exhaustion from the past years that’s catching up to you, and you finally get a moment to fully relax. Your eyes are practically shutting on their own, but you feel someone’s tiny wet hands pull your foot.

“C’mon, mommy. Let’s go to the water.” Ren urges you to stand up and follow behind him. You take the biggest breath of your life before standing up and following behind him, leading you to Satoru whose feet are on the shore.

“Aren’t you going to take off your dress? Kind of weird to come into the water with a dress.” Satoru notices how you’re still wearing the dress that you put over your swimsuit, and you roll your eyes. It’s not like Ren gave you much of an option before dragging you along. Plus, Satoru and Ren went back to the house completely soaked. 

“Why do you care?” Your voice is laced with attitude. Satoru bites down his lip before grabbing Ren’s hand and dragging him into the water. Ren is happy with this, but he’s dragging you with him, and it’s getting your dress wet. You don’t care too much anyway, you expected the dress to get dirty anyway, you just didn’t plan on getting it wet. You have the feeling that Satoru just wants to get you in a swimsuit, and you’re not giving him that pleasure. Maybe you’re too full of yourself, but you know Satoru a little too well.

Just as you expected, when the sun goes down, Satoru is sunburnt. It’s funny to see him red, claiming that he is fine and his skin doesn’t feel burnt. When you’re back in the beach house and Ren gets a good look at his father, he can’t help but comment, “You look like a crab, daddy.”

“I look like a what–” Satoru freezes, slowly blinking as he finds himself… Offended? He shouldn’t be, Ren is four, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Or maybe Ren knows exactly what he’s saying since he doesn’t really have a filter.

“A crab.” Ren repeats, which makes Satoru furrow his brows. Satoru walks over to one of the mirrors around the house that are up for decoration, and he bites down his lip. He fucking looks like a crab.

“Should’ve taken my offer for sunscreen.” You shrug before walking to your room to change out of your beach clothes and into something more comfortable for the time being. You would offer Satoru a remedy, but he did this to himself.

When you’re in pajamas, you walk out of the room and go to the living room to find Satoru and Ren playing a card game– Well, Satoru attempting to teach Ren how to play a card game. It’s sweet, but you have to interrupt the moment.

“Satoru, can you bathe Ren while I get started on dinner?” You ask, and Satoru furrows his brows, making you roll your eyes. It’s not a hard task at all, why does he act like it is?

“Make dinner? I’ll just order something. You’re just supposed to relax.” Satoru says. You know the kitchen is stocked up with all kinds of foods, you really don’t see a point in ordering out. Nonetheless, you take his offer because your body is begging for a break.

“Come on, stinky. Time for a bath.” Satoru puts his cards down and picks up Ren, carrying him to the bathroom. You’re left alone in the living room, and you make yourself comfortable, laying down on the couch.

You’ll fall asleep on the couch if you keep laying down without doing anything, but you’re on vacation, you should be fine. Satoru is handling Ren, and right now you don’t have any other responsibility. You can just shut your eyes for a moment… It’s not going to hurt you.

Just as you allow your eyes to rest, your phone rings. You try to ignore it, but you decide to check who it is because it could be an emergency. Everyone knows you’re on vacation so no one will really try to bother you unless it’s important. 

You read Suguru’s name, and your breath gets caught up in your chest. Not in the way you’d like it to be. Nerves fill you up, but it’s not the kind you had before. You aren’t excited to talk to him, and you think about answering for a moment. You end up sending him to voicemail before silencing your phone and shutting your eyes again. You need to sleep for at least ten minutes.

Satoru orders some food, waking you up when it gets to the house. You eat together, and for a moment you feel like a family. A complete family where Satoru has been your husband for years instead of being gone the past five years. Until his wife finally gets home after being out all day. She doesn’t join you, simply greets the three of you before going upstairs. You tense up, which Satoru notices. 

When you finish, you trust that Satoru will clean up, which makes you stand up and go to your room. You’re just going to take a quick shower, you’re sure Satoru can handle Ren for a bit. You’ll be out within ten minutes, Satoru will be more than okay. You hop into the shower, completely forgetting everything.

“Hey, is Ren–” Satoru barges into the room, not really caring to knock prior to entering. Satoru stops in his tracks when he hears the sound of water from the bathroom. You don’t hear him, the water suppressing any sounds. The door is cracked open and Satoru bites down his lip, quietly stepping near the door. 

Oh, it’s so wrong for him to do it but he looks through the cracked door– He knows damn well that you’d gauge his eyes out but he’s willing to take that risk. All the blood rushes to his dick as he sees you naked for the first time in five years. Fuck, he’d do just about anything right now to have you under him.

He can’t keep staring, he came here to ask you a question about what Ren is allowed to do. His son is waiting for him. But Satoru keeps staring. Until you two make eye contact, and you roll your eyes at him. No wonder you felt someone watching you. You yell, “Close the fucking door, pervert!”

Satoru gets even redder than he is as he completely shuts the door. He waits a moment before walking back to his son and telling him, “Yeah, we can watch a scary movie, bud.”

#[changes] #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

[theblueflower05]

OH UR IN FOR IT NOW

thoughts: jake sully cockwarming human reader and she keeps squirming around to cum but he’s so much bigger that he can just hold her still while she whines and pouts

(also i know he’s so cocky and condescending with his dirty talk)

Oh oh oh. Fuck yes.

Listen. There is something so sexy about Avatar/Na’vi x Human smut. I don’t care. It’s going to get me going every time, I eat this shit UP.

@hinataashoyos kills this dynamic and if you want to read some absolutely delish Jake content- please give her blog a follow.

And I loveeeeee the idea of Jake and his little human fuck buddy.

Because like. You’re everything he’s attracted to- just his type. You’re petite with killer curves, a rack and ass to die for. The sweet florally perfume you wear makes him dizzy with want and the gloss you have perma swiped across your full lips sparkles in the fluorescent lights of the labs that you can usually be found in.

He eats girls like you up back on Earth. Even in his chair, he knew he was a panty dropper.

Smut under the cut

But you’re different. You’re sharp as a tack and come from a good family back on terra firme. Fancy college degrees under your belt, all paid for by mommy and daddy’s money. A social butterfly. Hell, he bets you’d been a sorority girl. Kappa Kappa Gamma, or some nonsense of that nature.

You’d never go for a disabled ex-military grunt like him- or so he’s convinced himself.

You work in close quarters with the rest of the Science lame brains, are close with Grace and Max.

Xeno-Cultural Anthropologist, he learns your title early one.

You’re here to help crack the code around the Navi- deeply fascinated by their rich culture. Diverse clans, and multilayered language. Besides Grace, you’re about the only RDA human let within 100 miles of Home Tree.

Your accolades and experience, at your young age, are stacked. All of these things should make you a stuck up priss-

And yet you’re not. Not at all.

The more he gets the know you, the worse his interest in you gets.

You’re funny, in a goofy way that doesn’t match your sharp vernacular. Your frequent jokes are vulgar and down right dumb.

And helpful, you never make him feel stupid the way the others do. You’re more then happy to sit down with him after a long day of him being linked out in the Jungle- you’re just about the only reason why he’s finally starting to grasp the language.

And so so sweet. You don’t make him feel useless or infantiled in his chair; you treat him like the capable grown man he is- but make him meals like you do all for all your friends. Help him with his laundry. Bring him electrolyte drinks when he’s half asleep doing his video logs.

A couple months in, and Jakes interest has spawned into a full fledged crush.

When Grace swoops him away fro Quaritch and his influence- you go with. All the way up into the Hallelujah Mountains.

The extra close quarters and isolation just makes it worse.

The pajamas you wear to bed aren’t skimpy or sexy in nature- but damn do you look good in the small shorts and obscure band tee that falls to your knees.

He nearly loses his shit when you bend over one morning, your wide ass on display. The tiny sleep shorts do nothing to cover the plush cheeks and he’s never wanted to dig his teeth into something more.

You act like you didn’t see him discreetly hide his blushing face in his cup of coffee.

The same way that he acts like he doesn’t see you ogling him in Avatar form. You all but drool over the smooth blue skin and endless muscles.

He wonders if that’s the only way you’ll have him, in a body that’s not his.

It had all come to a head pretty soon after that.

At the core of it; the two of you are travelers, stuck on a foreign planet. All it takes is a particularly lonely night; one where some how the two of you had gotten a moment alone, for all of the emotion to bubble up.

You’d ended up in Jakes lap, in his chair. Grinding down onto him, your tongue down his throat as he wrapped his strong tattooed arms around you.

Safe to say you want Jake Sully however you can get him.

It’s a free for all after that and Grace straight up has to tell you guys to cool it down after stumbling upon you and Jake, him in his Avatar form, in the trees just behind the bunkers. His head had been buried between your naked thighs- your face blushing behind your Exo Mask. Grace had not been impressed.

“Between you two and Norm and Trudy, it’s like I’m living in a fucking frat house. Cut it out, before I citation all of you for interpersonal relationships. I swear, we’re supposed to be grown ups here, guys- ever heard of workplace discretion!”

Graces threats are empty, but Jake knows you respect her enough to take em to heart.

So it turns into a game of sorts.

The two of you try to get each other off as often as possible. As fast as possible. As hidden as possible.

All the sneaking around makes him feel like a teenager, alive and exhilarated when he’s in both of his bodies.

But he hates the quickies. He wants the time to worship your body thoroughly.

He jumps at the chance- when Norm rides along with Trudy to take Grace back to Hell’s Gate. She’s a higher up, after all. She has mountain’s of paperwork and reports she needs to do. That’s fine.

That means he gets to be alone with you.

He savors the night. The trailers are a tight fit for his Avatar body, but he pushes the bunk beds to an opposite wall and the two of you make a nest of sorts on the cold metal floor. All the pillows and blankets you can find to cushion yourselves.

You lie next to each other, facing one and other- as you explore each other with slow groping touches in the low light. Only the computer screens left on to illuminate the space.

It’s like neither of you can get enough.

His large calloused hands run along your curves- all that soft supple skin. Your plush breasts and doughy thighs and ass. You feel so good- you truly might be the only soft thing on the rugged planet of Pandora.

Your petite hands are eager too. You trace his arms, his broad shoulders, his tapered waist. Your wide eyes follow the path of your fingers.

“Holy shit, Jake. You’re built like a brick shit house- where did all this muscle come from?”

He chuckles at the awe in your tone. “Trainings been intense- Neytiris been riding my ass lately. I’m up before the sun rises in those trees”

“Remind me to thank her next time I see her” you mutter distractedly as you squeeze at his defined bicep.

It’s insanely good, but then again it always is.

Jake tastes your spit, and you hard little nipples and your dripping cunt. Feasting himself on your skin slowly.

The more orgasms he can wring out of you- the easier it will be for you to take his cock. He needs your body as loose as he can get it.

After what feels like hours getting fucked with his huge fingers, and rough textured tongue, you’re begging for him.

You can take it. You want to be full of him, you whine the words with big teary eyes that you know he can’t refuse.

He fucks into you slow- watching as you take him. Your pussy always looks like she’s going to break. Stretched to it’s limits, lips puffy and enflamed as his cock sinks in. The contrast of his indigo skin and your human flush is fucking hypnotic.

This isn’t the first time he’s fucked you in this body and it won’t be the last.

Every round seems to be better then the last- louder. Wetter. More passionate. You’re full of so much cum, there’s no way that your tiny womb could hold it even if it tried.

Na’vi libidos are something else.

He has stamina that he didn’t even know existed. After round three you’re out, all but asleep in his arms. Limp and ragdoll like in his oversized arms.

“You can keep going” your voice is paper thin and far away. Jakes not sure how you’re even coherent at this point.

He takes you into his lap, gently, but keeping you stuffed full to the brim with his cock.

You whimper and bury your messy face in his huge sweaty chest.

“I just need one more” Jake reassures you, petting your hair, stroking down your back. His hands are large and soothing, it’s so easy for him to touch all of you at once. “You don’t even have to move all that much, baby. Just let me come one more time, yeah?”

You nod, and really it’s just your head lulling in his clavicle. You’d lost the ability to control your muscles hours ago. “Yeah, mhmm”

Jake doesn’t even need to bounce you. Just having your pussy wrapped around him, tighter then anything he’s ever felt, is enough.

You sit on his lap, his cum flowing out of you. Down your thighs. Onto his own groin. And warm his cock.

It’s erotic and intimate and as he holds you close he thinks about Neytiris words. Tsaheylu- the sacred bond. He’s felt it with direhorse- and his ikran. A part of him wishes that he could feel it with you.

When he empties the last of his milky, iridescent cum inside of you and you pull back from his chest enough to give him a small smile, he thinks that no.

This is enough.

I LOVE YOU JAKE MOTHER FUCKING SULLY UGHHHHHHHHH. I swear he fucking remixed the game in the first Avatar. I will never ever ever get over him.

#Jake Sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #Jake Sully x reader smut

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Hiii LOVE your fic 🫶🏻! I was wondering if you could write a fic where everything that happens in the chase scene, happens to fem!reader but Miguel actually catches up to her & kinda knocks her down. He begs her not to do this, to stay down. As she gets up she asks him if any of it was real, he says it was and still is. He tells her that he thought that if he pursue her romantically then she would accept her dad's fate & wouldn't go against him (of course it doesn't work) she says she can't do that & escapes. He loses it a little & starts destroying everything & makes it everybody's mission to find her

Just pure angst 😭 I'm sorry if this is a lot

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You finally understand the true purpose of the Spider Society; protecting the canon, protecting the multiverse even at the cost of all the Spiders' suffering. But you were going to stop at nothing to find your way home, though Miguel isn't keen on letting you go.

Warnings: Angsty, Miguel gets angry.

“Miguel…what are you doing,” you ask softly, still not wanting to believe what you were seeing. All around you, members of the Society began closing in, caging you in an inescapable circle.

You didn’t want to accept it. That all these people, the ones you have grown to call family would turn their back on you in the blink of an eye. Or rather an order from their leader.

“I can’t let you leave, mi vida,” he says, eyes apologetic but unrelenting.

“What is the purpose of this place, the true purpose of this place Miguel,” you ask, your voice hardening. You had always believed when Miguel first recruited you it was to act as Spider-Man across the multiverse, no longer limited to your own hometown. But it seems there was some other agenda you were made unaware of.

He hesitates for a moment before exhaling lowly, eyes boring into yours.

“The Spider Society…was created to protect the canon of the multiverse. To ensure that in each world the events progress as they should,” he explains as the world disappears around everyone, replaced with holograms of a complex web.

“I don’t understand, what does that have to do with me saving my father?” you ask, and he winces.

You were never supposed to see the hologram and the message that followed it, you realize now. But you had snuck into the monitoring room, carrying a lunch of all of Miguel’s favourite foods when you saw it.

A hologram of your father going about his day, the message ‘Canon Event Detected. Time: 2 Days’ followed by the words ‘Soon to be Deceased’.

You thought it was some sick joke, some prank a cruel spider thought to play on you. But when you asked Miguel about it he refused to make eye contact with you, and that’s when the intervention began.

“Your father dying, is a canon event,” he says. “Just like how every person in this room undergoes their own canon events, their own version of loss. It's what ties every person in this room together in the web that makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Polymultiverse,” he explains, and you only grow more confused as he acted like that explanation justified any of this.

“So you’re saying you know that some of the most important people in every Spider’s life will die, and you just let it happen?” you ask, in disbelief at the blatant cruelty.

“It must happen, to ensure that life continues. That it doesn’t disintegrate into nothing…like how my universe disappeared.”

You only shake your head, taking a step back as your breath becomes slightly unsteady.

“You’re saying that our job here is to make everyone suffer, because of something that you fucked up a long time ago?!” you say, and his eyes narrow at you. It was harsh, but it was true. Perhaps the cumulation of disordered events could destroy a universe, but there was no way of proving that slight changes would hurt anything.

Scientific fact arises through countless hours of testing and experimentation. One result that happened one time shouldn’t dictate what the conclusion will be.

“You can’t tell me not to save my father, Miguel! I can’t just let him die if I can do something about it,” he says, and a look of pity washes over his face as he walks closer to you, but you take a step back.

“All this happens for a reason, these canon events allow us to become who we are, even if it hurts,” he says gently. And even though you hate to say it, it soothes you. His voice always has.

So much so, that you let down your guard for a single moment. Allowing him to come close and slip the watch right off of your wrist.

“No!” you say, trying to take it from his grasp but he was too fast. “How am I supposed to go home?”

“You won’t,” he says in turn.

“I’m sorry,” a voice cuts in from behind you. Jess, with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I know it's hard, but it's for the greater good.” Looking around, you see all your closest friends surround you, but against you.

“Even you, Peter?” you ask softly, and he only glances away with guilt.

“2 days? That’s plenty of enough time, I’ll get home one way or another,” you say, glaring at Miguel.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says before he tosses a trap right at your feet. Before it can work, you use your telekinesis to throw it back, trapping him instead.

“STOP! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Miguel shouts. It was the first time in your life you had ever heard him shout, and frankly, it scared you as you watch him try to claw his way out.

Everyone immediately starts to move in on you, but you throw your arms out casting a force field that throws everyone back.

Leaving an opening for escape.

~

Running from hundreds of different spiders all on the hunt for you was not easy. It doesn’t make you feel very superhuman when all that are chasing after you were also superhuman, and quite frankly you were exhausted.

Not only physically, but mentally as well. The whole situation was taking a toll on you even if you were trying to shove it to the back of your head.

Luckily everything served as a pretty good distraction for the pain your heart was in.

“You can’t keep running,” Jess says as you leap from car to car on the freeway, tailing behind you on her motorcycle.

“What choice do I have?” you say, though your voice cracks. You see her determined expression falter. You and she grew close soon after you joined the Society, she was truly one of your best friends.

But best friends don’t keep things from each other, especially things as important as the supposed ‘cause’ you were all working for.

You notice her hesitancy, and that’s when you strike. Kicking her off her bike, you pin her to a car with your webs as you snatch the watch from her wrist.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, looking up at where you hung from the vehicle, sadness in her eyes.

“You already did,” you say before swinging away.

~

You were very quickly running out of options for escape. Even with the watch, you couldn’t find an opening to program the watch for home.

As a last resort you latched onto the roof of the high-speed bullet train of Nueva York headed toward the skies, hoping that the force of gravity paired with the speed would at least stall some of the spiders off of your trail.

But before you could realize it, Miguel was very quickly on your tail until finally, he grabbed ahold of you, slamming you down into the roof as you yelped out in pain.

“STOP THIS!” he shouts, straight into your face. He doesn’t even take his mask off as he does, making the whole situation seem even more impersonal. You could only scoff in his face before the hurt overwhelmed you, and you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“Was any of it even real?” you ask softly, tears welling in your eyes as you do. Miguel looks taken back for a moment, eyes widened in surprise as his grasp falters for a second.

“What?” he asks.

“Was any of it real?!” you say louder this time. “Those times when you held me in your arms as I cried, the times when you kissed me in the kitchen as we made dinner together, or when we danced in the living room at night. When you said ‘I love you’ for the first time, was any of it even real?” You say as you feel the anger rise.

“Or was it just some kind of sick way of keeping me under your thumb because I’m the 'original anomaly’, to keep me from going against the canon and your sick agenda that you force everyone else to suffer?” you say, your voice loud now as you struggle harder against his grasp.

“It was real...in the end,” he admits, and you feel your expression drop. You wished that this was all some horrible nightmare, that you would wake up and this would just be in your head and he would hold you like he always did.

But deep down you always knew.

Knew that you loved him more than he did you, that this relationship was built on a lie. But you ignored it for the sake of your fragile heart, and here it is getting shattered all over again by the one person in this life you thought you could trust.

“We’re done, Miguel,” you say, resigned at last.

“Huh?” he says, as though he couldn’t believe your words even after everything you had been through.

“I said we’re done,” you say before you kick him straight in his stomach, launching him off of you so that he has to claw his way back onto the roof.

“Goodbye, Miguel,” you say, before you take a leap backwards, flying through the sky for a few moments until you open up a portal back home.

~

Miguel shouts in frustration as he marches back into the monitoring room, rage radiating off of his form in waves.

In his anger he shoves everything in his path out of the way, talons scratching into the walls as the rest of the Society surrounds him, awaiting his next orders.

Finally, he manages to calm down enough to utter out a single phrase.

“Find her, for the canon…for the multiverse,” Miguel says as guilt creeps in like vines around his heart at his lost love.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose

A/N: Could you believe I was going to post fluff today? Crazy how life gets in the way sometimes, but hey, managed to get this fic out lol. Sorry, I know I'm the fluff writer and all but angst just hits sometime :3

#miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader

[moraxsthrone]

Um, hello. I'm a little nervous to make this request, so please forgive me if I messed up.

May I request headcanons of Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma and Zhongli 's girlfriend bringing them homemade lunch while their working and when asked who she's looking for, she happily says "My handsome husband, the one and only (boy's name), of course!" while the boys are within earshot?

I just wanna see these boys acting lovestruck and blushy

//peeks out from the hole of chaos that is my life.

omg nonnie, i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to answer this. i wonder if you'll even see it. 🥺 if anyone did anything wrong here, it's me.

— how he reacts when you bring him homemade lunch at work

— pairings — diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli, and (bonus) tighnari x f!reader

— notes — sfw. fluff. diluc's is a drabble //help. his just came to me so vividly. the rest are headcanons, as requested.

— diluc —

your wine tycoon husband is fetching a couple of barrels from the storage area in the back of angel’s share when he hears your voice. he wonders why you’re here so early in the afternoon (you’re not kaeya after all), but a small smile still manages to grace his face as charles asks if he can get you a drink. diluc is just about to round the corner when he hears you answer cheerily, “no, thank you. i’m just here to bring lunch to my handsome husband, diluc! i made him his favorite and even threw in some grape juice from the winery!” the tavern owner stops dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a million beats. it’s adorable, really. not only is he easily flustered, but his fair skin is so quick to show even the slightest color. he knows he’s flushed a bright red from his neck to his ears. he’s too embarrassed to let his employee see him like this so he panics and this grown ass man HIDES BEHIND A FUCKING WINE BARREL!

he can almost hear the shit-eating grin on charles’s face when he points towards the back and tells you where you can find your “handsome husband, diluc”. he should dock his pay for that. now what does he do? just as you clear the bar area, you see the top of a crimson ponytail behind a barrel in the dim corridor. “diluc? is that you, baby?” the jig is up; there’s no point trying to hide anymore so he stands up slowly. “why were you crouched behind that wine barrel?” you press, and he clears his throat. “i was…uhhh…i dropped…something,” he stammers, doing his best to preserve his signature stoicism. but as you get closer you see the deep red blush that rivals the natural color of his hair. “wait…are you blushing?” “no.” “you’re blushing!” laughing, you start to touch his face, but he quickly covers it with both his hands, muffling his voice when he groans, “why must you always tease me like this?” “because you’re so cute when you blush,” you say, still giggling while trying to pry his hands away. he can hear charles wheezing behind the bar. “stop! go away, woman! you’re making it worse!”

— itto — 

who are we kidding? itto doesn’t work.

but let’s assume he’s doing an odd job and one of his gang members spots you as you’re approaching (not knowing you're his boss's wife) and tells you it’s too dangerous to pass through the area.

itto is out of eyeshot, but your voice is music to his ears when he hears you refer to him as your husband. 

“yeah! i made him his favorite and brought enough for everyone!”

his face lights up with a big, stupid grin bc that is easily one of the nicest things anyone has done for his gang.

just as akira is taking some of the bags you’ve been carrying by yourself, your big oni husband rounds the corner and is headed right for you with his pink-dusted cheeks.

picks you up into a hug and gives you a big, long, close-lipped kiss with unshed tears wetting his eyelashes.

when shinobu ribs him for crying, he denies it.

“i- i’m not crying, shinobu! my uhh…my allergies are acting up again!”

— kaeya — 

it means the whole fucking world to him?

he never thought he’d have someone in his life who would go out of their way to bring him lunch that THEY MADE JUST FOR HIM. 

he may not seem like it, but kaeya loooooves being domestic with you.

he smirks and teases you when you fuss over him, but he EATS THAT SHIT UP.

please do little things like this for him? it makes him feel so cared for, something he feels like he’s missed out on for most of his life.

ever the romantic, the captain sweeps you up into his arms bridal-style, making you squeal and laugh right in front of all his subordinates. 

kaeya makes YOU blush, not the other way around, okay?

— thoma — 

he’s usually the one waiting on others hand and foot so when you do something so domestic and thoughtful for him, his pretty green eyes positively SPARKLE. 

the brightest smile spreads across his face along with the swath of pink that stretches from one cheek to the other.

immediately wants to make something for you too. 

he insists! 

so you sit and watch him whip something up for you in the kamisato kitchen, your chin resting in your palms wondering how you got so lucky to marry the sweetest man in all of teyvat.

he packs both your lunches and leads you outside and finds the prettiest sakura tree to sit beneath while you enjoy your meals together. 

— zhongli — 

he’s touched, but it takes a lot more than bringing him food or referring to him as your husband to fluster the former archon.

if anything, he barely suppresses a smirk - satisfied with the pride in your voice when you call him “husband”.

he stands from his desk and steps out of his office to greet you in the funeral parlor’s lobby, shoulders back and head held high because he’s quietly proud of you too.

“my darling love…” he starts, seeing the delicious meal that he could smell from his office. “you truly shouldn’t have…”

“but i wanted to,” you say shyly as he leans in to leave a quick peck on your cheek.

“will you be joining me?” he asks, hopeful.

“oh, this is just for you, dear. i didn’t bring any for myself. i thought you might be too busy...”

“then i’ll share with you, my love,” he insists, offering you his arm, which you take with a smile and let him lead you back to his office.

— tighnari (bonus) — 

a handful of forest rangers are standing on the dock near tighnari’s hut when you flash them a quick smile before heading past them towards your husband’s office.

one of them stops you. “ma’am, you can’t just walk into the chief officer’s-”

you laugh sweetly and wave him off. “i can do a lot more than you think i can…”

it is at that moment that the rangers stiffen as their officer steps out with a stern expression on his face.

his multi-colored eyes are fixed and serious, but as a rosy heat rises to his pale cheeks you swear you hear a snicker from his group of subordinates.

you walk up to where tighnari is holding one of the giant leaf flaps open in the doorway and give him a quick little peck on the cheek.

that sends the angry blush all the way to the insides of his perked ears.

he dismisses the rangers as you walk past him and into his office like it’s your second home.

his watchful eyes follow his rangers as they disperse before he lowers the leaf flap to join you within.

he sniffs at the air. “wait. did you…?”

you simply nod with a pleased smile as you set the frond-wrapped box down on his desk. you’d made his favorite: forest watcher’s choice, rife with various (non-poisonous) mushrooms that you know he finds most delicious.

nari rounds his desk to join you and puts a gloved hand on the small of your back as he leans in and kisses your temple, ear twitching and tail wisping behind him.

“thank you, love. you’re too good to me,” he muses.

#kel.answers 💌 #genshin hcs #genshin imagines #diluc x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #thoma x reader #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc fluff #itto fluff #arataki itto fluff #kaeya fluff #kaeya alberich fluff #thoma fluff #zhongli fluff #morax fluff #tighnari fluff #diluc hcs #itto hcs #kaeya hcs #thoma hcs #zhongli hcs #tighnari hcs

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Chapter 2 | Coriolanus Snow

Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.

Chapter 1

young!president snow x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: NSFW! Smut! enemies to lovers (??), biting, fingering, unhinged dirty talk I guess, degrading, swearing, talk of ownership, orgasm denial, almost hate fucking, stockholm syndrome maybe?

a/n: ok, i got a little carried away here and I'm sure you can tell because this one seems possibly more disjointed than the last. let me know what you think and if I've missed any warnings!

Days had passed and Coriolanus had been acting as if you didn’t exist. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he didn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what work you were supposed to be doing and why are you here if you aren’t doing any work like you were meant to?

Truth be told, Coriolanus had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Coriolanus certainly would not stand for it - more so because of the sting of your brother’s betrayal. But here you were, waiting outside of the bedroom he had the staff keep ready for you with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 

Without saying a word, Coriolanus stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 

“I was supposed to be given work for our end of the bargain,” You avoided letting your anger seep into your tone. “Instead, you’ve been keeping me in your home and avoiding me like I’m some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to leave yesterday. Your guards–or whoever they are–stopped me from leaving. Said you told them I’m not to exit the grounds.”

Coriolanus was calm. “That’s right. That is exactly what I told them.”

“You said I could visit home.”

A shrug. “I lied.”

“You’d better start telling the truth-”

“Do not,” Coriolanus spat. Somehow, he resented you so much that he couldn’t hold back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I won’t tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”

Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Coriolanus barely flinched more than the turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You will let me serve my brother’s sentence so that I can get the hell out of your house as soon as I’m done. Or is there no honour to your word?”

Coriolanus was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he claimed to have over you. He may be ruler of Panem to its citizens but the two of you had grown up side by side and you knew the man he was past the charade of charm and carefully written speeches. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 

“You still think that’s really why you’re here?” He looked terrifyingly handsome in his rage. “You should appreciate the generosity I’ve shown you. You’re living in my home, free of charge and free to do as you please with your time so long as you stay within its walls. I hardly see how that is a problem for you.”

“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

Coriolanus’ expression was blank, his light curls casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The fabric of his meticulously tailored jacket brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into the bedroom with a strong hand on your back that had you stumbling into the middle of the room. 

“Since you’re so ungrateful, I’ll show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Coriolanus said, sticking his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and pulling out a set of two keys, dangling it in front of your nose. “You’re not to leave this room until I say so. Try to leave and I’ll have you whipped.”

And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 

How dare he? 

Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the streets of the Capitol and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Coriolanus’ home was a luxury far beyond your imagination but the feeling of confinement ate at you. 

This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho. So why did Coriolanus have so much rage for you? Even as a teenager, he was cold and detached despite your best efforts to warm him. 

If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the bunkers or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the new President.   

The room you had been given upon your first night was unlike anything you had expected. It was red and big and the carpet felt like clouds under your toes - a luxury so simple and so particular that you wondered what kind of wealth could afford such minute pleasures. The wealth of a country, it seemed.   

You still think that’s really why you’re here? 

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no work that you could possibly do to fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  

So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last three days with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Coriolanus.

Jericho had said you were only part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Coriolanus had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as Coriolanus had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was Coriolanus needed him to do. 

The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Candice didn’t bother knocking before stepping into your room with her arms full of–dresses?

“Mr. Snow wants me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the gala we’re hosting tonight.” 

What?

You eyed the dress that Candice laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the other dresses she held. From what you could see of the dress, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear. “I’m supposed to wear this?”

The look she gave was answer enough. “Take a bath first. I’ll help you into the dress once you’re out.”

You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Candice was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching set of underwear laid out with the dress - if you could call it underwear. 

Clutching the towel to your chest, you decided against the g-string that accompanied the stick-on bra. Before Candice could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own makeup. 

Candice pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, ma’am.”

“Please, you don’t need to call me ma’am,” you corrected. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Fuck. 

The dress was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green satin, floor length gown with a wired corset midsection. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly. Inch thick straps hung just off of your shoulders, leaving your neck and collarbones bare. The back of the dress dipped just above your hips. It made you look and feel sultry in an entirely new way. 

This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Coriolanus had intended it to be. Candice fastened a thin, crystal chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me at the gala?”

“I’m merely the housekeeper,” Candice spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“I’ll leave you for now. Mr. Snow will escort you downstairs when he’s ready.” 

And just like that, you were locked in your room once more. 

Coriolanus was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from your room and show you to the main hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the effect he had on you. 

He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.

Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Coriolanus was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in a three piece suit that was tailored to every curve in his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty and temptation. 

Coriolanus’ gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. “Let’s go.”

“Am I-Am I your date?” You still didn’t understand. 

“Of course not,” he answered. “You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”

A statement. That’s what you were. 

I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Coriolanus. “Let’s go then.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Coriolanus’ hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 

“Follow me.”

Coriolanus had left your side before entering. The main hall was packed with people, many of whom you recognised from your days studying or as past friends of the family. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Capitol. You weren’t but you had the same blood as one. 

The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 

Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 

It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Coriolanus had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 

“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”

“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”

“Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Snow has been generous.”

Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 

“Yes. I’ve been–I’ve been okay.”

You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one glass of champagne and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 

Slipping your glass onto a tray that one of the Avox were carrying, you smiled at Livia Cardew who barely spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Coriolanus and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 

You glanced towards the corridor. Coriolanus seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 

A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, seeing you alone and extending a greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 

By the time you were at the exit, Coriolanus was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The front door was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 

You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way a block down where your parents would drive past and leave with them. It would work and you’d be out. You could see Jericho, your friends and then you could disappear somehow. Jericho would help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 

The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Coriolanus smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into your side.

You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Coriolanus was strong and how far would you even get before someone else caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 

Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Corolanius’ cologne and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 

Shit. 

Coriolanus pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “Didn’t I tell you not to run away, little mouse?” 

Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Corolanius had brought you into a closet which was the size of a small bedroom but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 

“What? Are you going to have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 

Coriolanus pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I don’t like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”

You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I’m not something you own, Coriolanus. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in Panem where I couldn’t hunt you down myself and you’d be back here within a week.” Coriolanus could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”

There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the Coriolanus Snow you had known all those years ago who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 

“What did I ever do to you, Coriolanus?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

Coriolanus stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that four years ago, he would have despised himself for making you cry. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s friend. Jericho’s friend who never had the perfect home that you had, never had the wealth that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 

He never had you. 

And Coriolanus hated you for it. 

“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”

Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I didn’t know. You were so cruel to me, Coriolanus.”

Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 

“You want to know why I’m doing this to you?” Coriolanus brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”

His hands, his hands. 

They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Coriolanus was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 

He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”

Another gasp and you arched into him. Coriolanus’ words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After everything, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 

The air was thick and Coriolanus thought he’d choke on the passion that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think about all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 

“So tempting all the damn time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this, missy? How I should have done years ago and make your body mine?”

You let out a wanton moan as his lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I don’t know-”

“Of course you don’t.” Coriolanus let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of underwear and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little thing.”

The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent shockwaves through your body, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 

You were blind with need for Coriolanus’ body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d have perfected. The little voice at the back of your head told you to slow down, to think and that you’d regret this tomorrow morning but you were far too weak to listen to it. 

“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 

Coriolanus tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I’m going to have you missy, it’ll be in my bed. Where I can take you in every way I’ve spent hours dreaming about.”

Against your better judgment, you drawled, “Thought you hate me-”

“I do hate you,” Coriolanus growled, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”

You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his dress pants. But Coriolanus was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 

Coriolanus was usually a selfish lover. He didn’t take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely new way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.

“Please, Corio–I’m so close,” you whined. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.

There were people looking for him, Coriolanus could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That’s enough for now. Seems like they’re looking for me.”

You turned yourself around, still squashed between Coriolanus and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupils blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh. You resisted the urge to smack him again. 

“You can’t be serious.”

Coriolanus stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 

How he longed to corrupt you. 

“Collect yourself. I’ll send Candice to get you to your room,” he was at the door by now, fixing his tie as his fervent gaze was focused on you. “If you ever try to leave again, I will not be so lenient.”

With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 

tags: @deadly-femme-bimbo @justaproudslytherpuff @10ava01 @edb954 @real-lana-del-rey @demyackerman @whatupitshuff @foreludes @motley-baby @unclecrunkle @cillianmurphysbxtch

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #tom blyth #tbosas #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #📝 #🥀

[ssaluv-a-lot]

Woke up at 2 am thinking about this…

A/N: This might be the best thing Ive ever done. 18 plussss, deadass. No Minors 💁🏽‍♀️ Grown ppl enjoy.

Oh shit…You should be home right now. You should be home in bed with your man but instead you were out and tipsy and yet the thought of Fontaine pulling up to air the place out was enough to sober you up. On wobbly legs, you carried yourself out of the club and fished your phone out your purse.

4 missed calls, 2 FaceTimes, and hella text messages. You were so fucked.

It wasn’t even a full second after you pressed the screen to call him back that you heard the bass boosted rnb coming from his Pontiac. Then it was his rumbling engine and beaming headlights that swung around the corner.

Fontaine didn’t even wait until the car was rightfully parked before he climbed out and stalked towards you, scowl permanently etched onto his features.

“Baby, i’m so fucking sorry.” You reached out for him, grabbing hold of his jacket.

He pried your hands from his jacket and grumbled a stern. “Get in the car.”

“Fontaine!” You whined, tripping over your heels to grab him again.

“Get in the fuckin car! I ain’t playin wit you!” He shouted, gripping your arm up and forcing you towards the vehicle while you continued to apologize.

He climbed into the driver’s seat with a huff as you buckled your own seatbelt.

The drive was silent and the tension thick. You knew that once you got home, he would be on you about staying out late, getting drunk without a ride. The whole nine yards on safety.

You didn’t even need to mention the fact that every one knew you were his girl and that so much as a flirty comment would get them in big trouble.

The car rumbled to a stop in front of your home and a heavy sigh released itself from Fontaine’s chest.

“When we get in that house, ion wanna hear shit about how sorry you are. Ion give a fuck. You get your ass up to that room and wait.”

You nodded your head as a shiver tingled at your spine. Then, his rough hand was gripping your cheeks, tilting your head every which way.

“Nobody touched you up in there right? You ain’t hurt?” He loosened his grip as it seemed you went untouched as long as you were out.

“No..” A smile crept across your glossy lips as you realized he wasn’t really mad at you, just worried since you didn’t answer his calls

“Don’t lie to me just cause you think I’m already pissed.”

“No, Fontaine. Nobody did anything. I just danced and shit.”

The man sucked his teeth as he climbed out of the car, going around the front to open your door.

Once inside the house, you wasted no time getting up stairs and sitting on the bed as his heavy foot steps followed.

“Strip outta them clothes.” He ordered as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him and he kicked off his shoes.

You scrambled out of your top, tossing it somewhere. Out of your bra, tossing it someplace else. And then, you fumbled with your skirt before it pooled at your feet, leaving you in your panties, looking up at him as he loomed over you.

“Now how come when you think you getting some dick, you can listen to me but when I tell you to come home before midnight, you ain’t got a damn clue?”

“I-“ The words got stuck in your throat as he aired you out.

“Hm.” Fontaine scoffed, shrugging off his bomber and pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in his gold chain and a pair of low hanging sweats. “Hands and knees.”

“Fontaine!” You whined. “Please?”

“Nah come on. Don’t make me fix you my self.”

You huffed as you turned yourself into the position and pressed your body into the sheets. The impact came almost instant, the burning sting as he cracked a palm to your right ass cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a yelp caught in your throat. Another resounding smack to your ass as he mumbled to himself. Something about you tripping and acting like you ain’t know better.

His monologue must’ve really started to piss him off because the next impact of his calloused hands had you gripping the sheets as a squeal released from your mouth.

“M sorry, Taine..” You mumbled, turning your head to look back at him as he stroked your burning skin.

“Mhmm.” Another crack of his palm against and then he was pulling at your panties, tugging them down to the fold of your knees as a finger slipped between your legs and through your slickened folds. “All that complaining and you wet any damn way.”

Your brows knitted together as he swiped his fingers across your pussy, brushing your clit and circling your entrance, then back up to your clit to rub firm circles into the bud.

“Fontaine..” It came out breathy and pleading as you relished in the pressure being released. “Fuck..feels good.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, squatting down to get a better look at your actively sopping pussy, wet and waiting to be filled.

The sight was marveling, almost making him forget what he was supposed to be doing. Your whimpers were music to him as he drew them out of you with rougher circles to your clit.

He brought his mouth to your ass, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as you squirmed against him.

“F-fuck..baby! I’m close!” Your jaw dropped as the knot in your belly tightened up. You arched into the bed, ready for it to hit you any second.

At the last moment, Fontaine withdrew his fingers with a dark groan, leaving you squirming and pushing your ass back against him for more.

As the realization dawned, tears pricked your eyes.

“No! Daddy please! I-I wanna come!”

“You gonna wait. Just like you made me wait up for you.” He pressed another kiss to your ass and raised to his feet.

“But-“ Your words were cut as he wrapped a hand around the front of your neck and pulled you up to rest on your knees. His lips slotted against yours, his tongue dipping in and invading your mouth sloppily.

His grip on your neck tightened as he took your plump bottom lip between his gold teeth with a growl. “You know I love you right?”

“Yeah. Love you too,” Fontaine released your neck and you could hear the fabric of his sweats as he tugged them down along with his boxers, letting his hard erection spring free.

He pressed a hand to the small of your back, creating an arch that propped your ass up just how he liked it. Carefully, he dragged his blunt tip across your wet folds, tapping it against your clit until you shuddered and your toes curled in anticipation.

He pushed into your clenching center with a groan as he adjusted his hands to your hips and your face dropped into the pillow. “Fuck..” Fontaine tugged his sweats a little lower as you mewled into your pillows.

His thrusts started slow, drawing out to the tip and easing in to his hips until he was coated in your arousal. “You good?” He asked, fully sheathed.

“Uh huh.” You spared him a weak nod and he took that as his go ahead, catching a rhythm as he drilled into you.

His nails digging into your hips so you didn’t try to run. Your mouth permanently slack jawed as he hit that spot that made you see stars.

“Must’ve been out ya mind, baby.” Fontaine huffed. “Making me have to drive up there like that..”

“Ooh daddy..” You threw your ass back to meet his hips with eagerness, your orgasm crawling up your spine and making your head a little foggy.

“Mhmm. Ignoring my fuckin calls.” He cracked a palm against your ass, making you yelp and push back into him.

The dull smack of your skins colliding as he drove his dick into your greedy pussy was all you could hear. All the shit he was talking went in deaf ears.

“Fuck, Fontaine! Shiiit!” Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm rolled over you, your hands turning pale as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“That’s it.” He kept fucking you through it, not letting up no matter how much you whined about it being too much. “Keep taking that dick..”

A sticky white ring formed around the base of his cock, making the already slippery task of staying inside you, that much harder.

“I got half a mind to never let you out again..”

“Mmm..no, wait.” You whispered as he angled his thrusts to brush against your spot again. You felt yourself building up again, only the pressure felt heavier and much stronger. “F-Fontaine!”

You attempted to press a hand to his abdomen to slow his thrusts and allow you a minute to relax but your shaky hand was slapped away.

“Actin like you ain’t got no fuckin sense.” He pressed into your back a little harder, angled his hips deeper. “I feel that shit. You gonna soak me baby?”

“I-I Ahh!” Your pussy clenched him tight, keeping him right where he was as you squirted onto the sheets with a scream. Your legs shivering and body shaking as he marveled at the sight.

“Fuuck.” He pulled out of you with a soft smile, rubbing his wet dick through your swollen folds, spreading the substance across your thighs. “You trynna do that again?”

#black writers #x black reader #black reader #john boyega #fontaine #fontaine x black reader #smut #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone smut

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #maul #darth maul #obimaul #obi wan and anakin #anakin and obi wan #ahsoka tano #time travel #de aging #star wars #phoenix posts

[idwt-money]

I See Through You.

MDNI 18+

3.2k words

Satan!Noah sebastian x Lost soul!Y/n

Christian/Religious themes, Satanic themes, Corruption kink, Mentions of death, Wax play, Oral sex (male and fem rec), Unprotected sex, Squirting, Dirty talk, Mentions of breeding kink

“The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite.”

—

Noah's pov.

Fuck. It should be ME. I'm the fucking king.

—

Third person's pov.

He had been banished from the holy scene. His mind had been corrupted. He was God's favorite. The closest thing to becoming a god he would have ever gotten. Until…

His mind would run amuck at night. After the sun had set on the sacred land, laying in bed with his brethren just rooms away.

Day after day he had gotten sick of bowing down for the divinity. Growing like a disease. Growing and rooting itself deep within his bones, the veins that allowed his suborn blood to flow. Spreading deepest in the soul his God had granted him eternal life with.

Submitting himself to his almighty had become a tiring, weakening agenda. His hunger for power burned deep within his mind.

His position as the anointed cherub no longer satisfied his starvation for authority.

His attempt at dethroning God led him to be thrown, tossed, banished from the pearly gates every mortal soul had prayed to enter.

—

One of his now ex-brethren, bestowed a script to him. Curled together like an ancient pirate's map. On the scroll before him was one final message to the unholy individual from the Lord.

“Oh, my poor Samael. Where had I gone wrong? Pride, greed, envy. For how could you let them engulf your intelligence? To cause such rebellion? You, a lost soul, can no longer hold a position in my holy land.”

As he finished the script, he felt his soul burn and shrivel into complete nothingness. Nothing but a black void leaving him falling out of the sacred heaven he yearned to be the king of.

Falling through each layer of the Earth, he could feel his skin burning and aching as he did so. He landed in an unbeknownst hole, passing out on impact with rubble and dust falling upon him. On that cursed day, the eternal fire was born.

—

If you are cast out, what's your next move going to be? Will you return cold? Or will you turn up the heat?

Last thing I sold them, had been my dignity. But, the truth is the devil sold his soul to me.

To me.

To ME.

—

Noah's pov.

I had awoken in a displaced land. A funnel shaped cavern. Aggression and insanity ran cold through my veins. An inferno I was placed in.

If I wouldn't have an opportunity to rule the heavenly kingdom, I shall make my own. For lost souls, for sinners and those of who act upon blasphemy. For those who will not succumb to God. I will be the king of the mountain of purgatory.

For I will create a kingdom, not as its jailer, but as its healer. I will heal every soul that is not worthy of being in heaven. I will create an army, one so powerful that it can take down God and his disciples.

—

Third person's pov.

Noah, as he had renamed himself, had spent years stacked upon years building and crafting his domain. A safe place to heal broken souls that were undeserving of heaven.

He had now accumulated centuries worth of individuals who lost their spot in the promised land. They were all dependent on him as their ruler, their king.

He had rediscovered himself. He no longer was a spirit of God, rather the opposite.

He no longer had soft, white, pure feathered wings. Instead his back was adorned with a set of deep black wings. They were covered with coarse fur, rough to the touch. His once dark honey colored eyes were now pitch black. He had grown fangs that looked perfect to sink into a soft, flawless neck.

He had all he could ever imagine…except a love to sit beside his throne, to rule his domain with him.

His heart desired and thirsted for a true love. Although he had millions of souls in his kingdom, he hadn't met a single one that could give him what he needed.

They were all too much like him. He wanted someone he had coax upon him. Someone he could play a game with.

He hadn't taken a leave of absence since the day he decided to create his own space. Maybe it was time to change that. A trip to the mortal world.

—

Y/n's pov.

I sat upon a bench in the midst of a forest, taking in a deep breath of the midnight cool air. I had no place to go.

Parts of my soul, broken and seemingly unfixable. I was cursed to spend my days roaming the Earth as nothing but lonesome in my own purgatory. I would spend my day and night praying, atoning for my sins. Seemingly little, insignificant sins to anyone else were the reason I was stuck in this temporary state.

My Lord had promised if I could atone for my sins, I would be allowed into the promised land. I wanted nothing more, but my Earthborn body had long turned to dust, my hope slowly diminishing.

—

If God came down from his kingdom, he came down from his throne and we asked him if he'd take us back, he would surely tell us no.

We live and die in vain like treasure on a sinking ship. All in the name of a God we'd just abandoned and forget.

—

Third person's pov.

He had his eyes set on her. A lost soul, set in purgatory. Oh, how easy it would be to convince her to bestow her gift upon him.

She seemed perfect. Her skin having a soft glow to it. He knew if an Earth bound body could see her, they too would fall in love with the sight. Her glow gave off as a blue-ish tone, telling him all he needed to know.

As he moved through the trees, he watched as her panic became prominent.

“No one knows I'm here…unless?”

A small glimmer of hope shone through her sadness at the idea that her Lord had finally decided she was able to step foot into the holy divinity.

Her blood ran cold as a jagged finger ran across her skin.

She was so soft, the panic in her eyes set his body on flames. Her pure mind was one he could imagine 100 different ways to ruin.

—

Noah's pov.

“What are you doing out here by yourself, angel?” My voice came out rough and coarse, while hers was much flowy, softer than mine could ever be.

I took a stand of her hair, taking in her delicious scent.

“Wh-wha-! Who are you!?” Her chest was rising and falling like a scared little bunny, her eyes darting back and forth across my features.

“I know you've heard of me. The Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Lord of Flies, The Antichrist. Baby, I'm you're one and only-” I was cut off, her screech throwing her into a fit of madness.

“THE DEVIL!?” Her cry must have been heard for miles, to any other lost soul or angel that was Earthbound at the moment.

I pulled her to my chest, covering her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. I'm here to make a deal.”

A deal with the Devil.

“I see through you, angel. I know exactly what you are. A lost soul, hoping to atone for your sins. Am I close?” I spoke my words slowly and calmly, not needing a miscommunication.

Her head weakly nodded against my heaving chest.

“I'm going to take my hand away, and you're going to let me talk. Do you understand?”

Another nod was given.

Removing my hand oh so cautiously, I let her sit back down, holding my finger up to my mouth, indicating she needed to be quiet.

“He won't let you in there, baby.”

“You don't know that.” Her words flew out of her mouth, cold and harsh.

“Oh, but I do.” My index finger softly gliding down her cheek. She must have been previously crying.

“I was his favorite, you know? I had more power than any other angel. I was second below God himself.” My hands now placed behind my back as I paced back and forth. I didn't miss the way she watched me like a hawk.

“I wanted more. I needed more. He was far too greedy. He casted me out, sending me falling through Earth's layers, down into the deepest parts of the plane. His sacred, holy land was too much to bear. So, I created my own. My own kingdom.” I watched the starry night sky, all the stars twinkling as I explained my story.

Looking down at her, her face was painted with many emotions. Confusion, anger. I smirked to myself, knowing I had her questioning the almighty spirit.

“B-but God is…is good. He's purity and kindness.”

I scoffed.

“Come with me, my sweet angel. Rule with me. You will have power and you can be your own divinity. I can give you everything he could and more.” I whispered the last part into her ear, letting myself smile against her skin.

“Why…why are you beautiful? I thought-”

“Thought I was red? With horns and an outdated tail?” My eyebrows furrowed together as I spoke.

—

I see through you, I know what you are. I see the devil more than I see God.

—

Y/n's pov.

He was beautiful. Gorgeously put together, with a black suit, dress shoes and tattoos staining his skin. He was so enticing.

My head was dizzy and I could feel my core slowly weakening. This was absolute insanity.

I had no idea why I felt the need to say yes to his offer. His words were smooth like fresh honey floating through my ears.

Although tempting, I had to be strong. He could be lying. I had read the bible 5 times before passing to know this is what he does.

He's seducing, he tempts your faith, your religion. He gets in your head. He tempts you with bad decisions. He had powers beyond man. He was the reason Eve sunk her teeth into the forbidden fruit. He was the snake that left hissing in your ears after you had committed a sin.

“Come with me, I can make all your dreams come true, little one. I can make you belong.”

Belong? Your soul ached and yearned to belong somewhere.

“You can give in to your sins, free of guilt. Free of shame. No worries of fear of punishment.” He made a tempting debate.

Is this what you wanted for yourself?

“He'll leave you alone, you won't see him like you'll see me. Is that what you would like? He'll send messengers to talk through. You won't catch even a glimpse of him.”

I couldn't stand the thought. My mouth spoke before my brain could speak.

“Okay. I'll come with you.”

—

Third person's pov.

A sinister smile spread across his lips.

“This will hurt a little.” He muttered as he tilted her head to the side. He sunk his teeth into her neck, covering her mouth as to muffle her cries. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt their minds morphing into one.

Giving her a mark. A mark to tell everyone how easily he had corrupted her mind. How she was now his.

Noah pulled away, licking away the blood that resided on his lips.

As for Y/n, she felt her body burn hot. Aching pain spread through her body, her soft blue glow now turning orange.

She watched as he cleaned up the mess, licking the blood away on her neck.

“Oh, my sweet angel. You've made the right decision.”

—

As the pair now made their way into the kingdom, innumerable souls congratulated their king on his new found love.

They soon after found themselves in the Devil's bedroom. She hadn't taken Satan for one to sleep much.

“It isn't for sleeping, I promise that, baby.” He chuckled at his own comment.

As soon as she took a spot on the bed, covered in soft, red sheets, he was attacking her lips.

—

Y/n's pov.

You weren't complaining. He had promised you an eternal life, free of guilt. What would be the point in worrying about it now.

You let his lips venture your body, his fangs gliding across your skin every once in a while.

He had started leaving purple marks across your neck, close to the freshly marked wound he had given you previously. A way to say you were his.

“Oh, fuck. Baby, I'm going to corrupt your precious little mind. Fill it full with sinful thoughts about me.”

He took your hand, moving it down his shirt, down to where his cock was painfully straining against his pants.

It caused you to ache beneath your own. Your mind went dizzy with the thought of him. He was gorgeous and was about to give you everything you could ever want.

You had taken some initiative and unzipped his pants while he took his tie off, throwing it somewhere unbeknownst to you. He undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt and you, quite frankly, gawked over his body.

He was toned. He had tattoos littering his skin everywhere. His dark eyes watched as you took a long once over of his body.

“Fuck, you're beautiful. Truly.” Your words were quiet, seemingly scared that God would somehow hear or see the activities the two of you were getting up to.

“As are you. You'll be perfect at my side. For the rest of forever.” His hand caressed your face. He did truly find you breathtaking.

Your big doe eyes were something he could find himself staring into forever.

You were now something the holy trinity could never take away from him.

You pulled his pants down, causing his cock to be set free. Something roared in you.

You licked your lips before devouring him.

You swallowed his cock, slowly taking more each time your head bobbed up and down. Soon, he was reaching the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him.

His hands were placed at either side of your hand, using it as leverage to fuck into your throat. You took it so well that he could lose himself in your touch. The way your arms were wrapped around his thighs, helping him go deeper into your throat made him weak and want to crumble.

You felt your cunt wetten for him. The sight of his hair falling out of place and his chest heaving through your teary eyes made you need him. You wanted him to enter your temple and destroy it.

His thrusts became sloppy, faltering here and there. You pulled away from his cock, muttering filthy sins as you stroked him.

“Let me taste you. Give it to me, baby.”

You were forced down onto him once more as he let his seed spray down your throat. Letting it coat your insides felt like bliss.

It was mere seconds before he led you to lay on your back. His hands were clawing and scraping against you, in such need and hurry to remove you of your clothes.

The second your panties hit the floor Noah was nose deep in your pussy, taking in your taste and smell.

Your eyes rolled back as your mouth was left gaped. A hand flew into his hair, pulling and tugging at it, causing his once perfect hair to now be disheveled.

“Oh- oh fuck-” You gasped as he licked and slurped along your clit. No man had ever pleased you as Noah was right now.

He wasn't a man. He was a fucking demon.

His middle and ring finger slid across your wetness before plunging into you.

Something in Noah felt like this is what he had been waiting for. This is what he was made for. He was made for you.

His fingers quickly found the right way to please you. The calloused pads of his fingers rubbing the right spot.

You bit your bottom lip and he somehow knew you were close to toppling over the edge.

“Do it. Let yourself go. Let yourself be mine.” His voice came out as a growl against your cunt as his fingers quickened.

“No- I can't I'm gonna-” You couldn't finish your sentence before your orgasm took over your mind.

Your orgasm left a mess everywhere. You hadn't known until you heard the wet sloshes against Noah's palm.

“Oh my- I've never done that before. How-how did you…?”

“Done what? Squirt? Fuck, angel. I'm Satan himself. Did you doubt me?” He had an shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Shut the hell up and fuck me.” Something took over you, all you could think about was his cock ramming into you. Destroying every thought you'd ever had of God and those “precious” pearly white gates.

“Look at you, mere moments ago you were trembling with fear. Now you're begging for my fucking cock.” He chuckled and crawled up your body, kissing and licking at your skin.

It didn't take long for him to position your legs over his shoulders, feeling his cock stretch you out as he entered you.

“Your body is a temple. And I'm here to fucking destroy it. I'm here to get in your pretty little head. Corrupt those holy thoughts with distasteful, nasty, sinful thoughts.” His words were venom digging into your brain, making your mind their home.

His thrusts were becoming faster, now that your pussy had gotten used to his size.

He had grabbed a candle that was permanently lit by his bed and watched the wax drip onto your skin. You hissed as each droplet made its spot on your skin.

Slowly but surely, Noah had made an upside down cross upon your stomach. You couldn't care for the dull burn the wax drips had left as they dried.

You could feel Noah's cock pushing its way into your fucking stomach. He was so inhumanly big, you almost forgot where you were and who you were getting fucked by.

Once the wax had set, you pulled Noah into you, clawing your nails deep into his skin. He growled over the feeling of your nails making dents so deep into his immoral skin.

Before you knew it, Noah's shoulders were bleeding and you were both merging into one.

“Noah, please, please harder!” Your words were barely decipherable as your second orgasm was approaching.

“Now. Give it to me now.” His words were enough to send you into a spiral.

As you had your own orgasm, Noah shot hot strings of seed deep into your womb.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna put a baby here one day.” Noah said as he rubbed your stomach.

He took the blood from his bruised shoulder onto his thumb, placing it onto your tongue.

"Forever, we are one."

He finally had a respective queen to be by his side for the rest of eternity.

—

Woke up in the light convinced my life had made it to its end. Burning up beneath the sun, while my father drained of blood.

If he's there, I've got a message for the man that's up above.

Fuck. You.

Taglist: @vinyardmauro @missduffsblog @lma1986 @embracethereaper42 @skulliecadaver-blog @mrscevans @viofcrows @gipsonnikki @philomenie @bloody-delusion-expert @bloodymug @millyhelp @fuckyouimstillstanding @cookiesupplier @concreteangel92 @bruisedleftknee @sprokat @itsafullmoon @darling-millicent-aubrey @eclipseeetop

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #noahsebastian #bad omens band #badomens #badomenscult #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #noah bad omens #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian smut

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More chaotic Nimona headcanons

Whenever Ambrosius and Nimona want to mess with Bal they do a poor imitation of his accent

Or they’ll use British slang with an American accent 

You’d think this would get boring or the duo would get tired of this

But no

Watching this grown man’s cheeks inflate like a puffer fish never gets old 

One day Bal decided to get back at them by speaking in an American accent

This went on for the whole day and whenever the duo mentioned it he just looked at them like they were crazy

He pretends like it never happened and when the duo brings it up he’ll give them that same look

Ambrosius and Nimona go back and forth between knowing he’s fucking with them and questioning if they imagined it 

Sometimes when he thinks they’re forgetting he’ll say in an American accent “Do you remember when I” and then he’ll stop talking and walk away

It’ll send them spiraling for days 

I find immense joy in the idea that the trio not taking shit from anyone and messing with reporters for fun

One reporter got a little too comfortable with Nimona and asked her to explain in detail her “origin story” and how her shifting works

Like she's some fictional superhero and not a person standing in front of them 

So he straight up acted like he had no idea what the reporter was talking about 

And when he told them that he saw them shift as they walked in they replied in a concerned tone "Sir I have no idea what you're talking about"

And slowly but surely Nimona started to convince the reporter and the crew that they didn't save the kingdom

Shapeshifters don’t exist and they were here to discuss the economic crisis the kingdom was experiencing

And the moment when she knew that she had convinced them all she shifted to look like the reporter and walked out of the room without saying a word

No one in that room kept their job

A lot of people like to act like Bal is a hero not because he helped save the kingdom but because he’s an amputee

They act like he’s someone with an expiration date simply because he’s disabled and often treat him like he’s incompetent 

So he messes with them

A lot of these reporters will insinuate all the things I mentioned but they’ll never say it outright 

So he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know he’s an amputee

He’ll slowly manipulate them until they have no choice but to say outright that they’re treating him like he’s less than human because of his disability

And then he’ll act like he’s just discovering that he’s disabled 

Saying some “Oh my Gods my arm is gone… OH MY GODS IT’S GONE” 

People stopped mentioning the arm after that 

There was one reporter who was really outspoken about the fact that the “Golden Boy” was so easily manipulated by the Director 

And was questioning if someone so easily swayed should have a hand in rebuilding their society

Ambrosius finally sat down with an interview with this dude and the reporter just starts digging into him

Hammering him with questions like “Why didn’t you see through the Director’s lies” “Why did you lead the manhunt against Bal” and “Where were you when the wall fell”

And Ambrosius starts throwing out questions of his own like “Weren’t you very close friends with the Director and weren’t you very outspoken on social media supporting her” “Why were you saying and I quote ‘we need that gutter rats head on a spike’” and finally “what were you doing when the wall fell?” 

And this man had receipts too

He was basically silent when Ambrosius was brought up after this incident

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I love these chaotic dorks #we love some gaslighting bitches #yes baby mess with the media #fuck with their heads