#i was going to give him facial hair but then he'd look almost EXACTLY like my brothers and I

[dirtd0g]

'Twas my duty as a Puerto Rican to make my own HWS Puerto Rico OC

#He's literally like modeled after the people in my family lol #his likes and dislikes are also very much my dad #i was going to give him facial hair but then he'd look almost EXACTLY like my brothers and I #almost gave him the last name rodriguez but then I'd be making him JUST like me instead of his own little dude #he's practically a self-insert with how close to me I made him #hws #aph #aph puerto rico #hws puerto rico #hws oc #aph oc #hetalia oc #hetalia puerto rico #ddoodles

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Lucifer Morningstar NSFW Alphabet✨

Hey hey! Soooooo I saw some people doing the NSFW Alphabet for some of the Hazbin cast so I thought I would toss my hat in the ring! And of course I'll be doing it for the LOML Luci 💖

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You already know, the King of Hell is the King of aftercare! Your sessions can go on for a while, so more often than not, you're absolutely spent. Luckily, Lucifer is at your beck and call. He'll give you whatever you need; cuddles, a bubble bath, a massage, a snack, and water of course! You're his Queen, after all, he'll sure as hell treat you like one!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Lucifer's favorite body parts are his hands. Not for the way they look, but for what they can do. He loves that his hands can roam every inch of your body, make you moan and whimper, make you scream his name, mark you. The fact that they can bring you so much pleasure makes him giddy! It's almost impossible for Lucifer to choose his favorite thing about you because he loves every bit of you! But if you pressed him about it, he would have 2 answers. The first is your lips, because the man is obsessed with kissing you! He'd do it all day if he could! Plus you have the most infectious smile, it warms his heart every time he sees it. The second are your thighs. Look me in the eye and tell me Lucifer is not a thigh man, you can't, it's impossible! Your lap is his favorite place to sit and to rest his head. Of course he LOVES plantings little kisses and hickies on your inner thighs when he's about to eat his favorite meal ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This goes without saying, Lucifer could survive on your cum alone if he was so lucky. Man is pussy drunk! He'll coax so many orgasms out of you just so he can get his fill of your juices. It's basically a drug to him. And of course he has no problem tasting his own once he's filled you up, definitely a different taste but one he enjoys nonetheless!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's embarrassing for him, but Lucifer was smitten with you since he first laid eyes on you! He couldn't help but imagine all the things he would do to you and have you to do him if you ever gave him the chance. He mentally smacked himself for seeing you that way in the beginning, but GOD you were just an absolute angel! The amount of times this man jacked off to the thought of you before you were even together is way more than he'll ever admit to. If you accidentally bumped into him or touched his shoulder, rest assured that man was cumming into his hand that night because of it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer is legitimately older than dirt, and had a wife for 10,000 years, he knows EXACTLY what he's doing! He makes it his personal mission to have you cum multiple times every session! Man invented eating pussy for Christ's sake!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Old school as hell (literally lol), Lucifer loves missionary with you, but it's never boring! Every session with him is intimate and full of passion. He LOVES looking at when when he thrusts into you over and over, the facial expressions and noises you make when he makes love to you makes his heart melt! That being said, he loves any position where he can see your beautiful face, so PLEASE climb on top and ride that man into the next afterlife!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lucifer is the goofiest man to ever goof! I'd like to think once you two are super comfortable with each other, initiating sex becomes sillier. He would use old timey phrases like "hanky panky" or "horizontal mambo", but most of the time he would say something along the lines of "how's about you and me partake in a little bow- chicka-bow-wow :)"

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has blond hair so his pubes are no different! Lucifer is very well kept and tidy in that area, the minimal hair he has down there stands out a little bit do to his pale white skin, but it's always perfectly trimmed!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy master, let me tell ya! Lucifer has such a bleeding heart and is a hopeless romantic for sure! He only says the sweetest things to you when you make love. He hardly uses the term "fuck" as he thinks it's a bit too harsh considering how deeply passionate your sessions are. His praises are endless for you; "you're so beautiful", "you look like an angel", "you feel so good"

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I touched on this earlier, but his masturbation sessions definitely lessened when you two started being intimate. Before that, Lucifer would probably masturbate to you AT LEAST once a day before you were a couple. When he started courting you, it got even worse because God forbid he initiate anything with you out of fear of scaring you away! But once you initiated, oh he was putty in your hands! After that, Lucifer gains a lot more self control, but he can't help but jack off to you every once in a while, but he'd much rather it be your hand~

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK!! Did I say praise kink?? Please praise this man when you're with him! Lucifer loves to know that he's doing a good job with you. Absolutely melts when you call him a "good boy". He adores hearing things like "You make me feel so good, Luci", "You're doing so well for me, my darling", "Just like that, sweetheart, just like that."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His room, of course! His bed is wide enough, for sure! But Lucifer would never restrict himself to just the bedroom. I hope you're ready to defile every flat surface in that mansion of his because he's fucking you in every single room. He has A LOT of rooms~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. You turn him on. Every move you make, every sway of your hips, every laugh you make, Lucifer is GONE. But of course, teasing this man is a sure fire way to get him going. Wearing a short skirt around him and bending over seemingly innocently or placing a kiss on the pulse of his neck, dude is hard as a rock and you're so gonna get it when you two are alone! Good!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like there isn't a lot that Lucifer wouldn't try at least once if you asked him to! But a big turn off for him is any mention of his ex-wife Lilith during an intimate session. He'd rather not think about her in that way anymore, he still hasn't fully recovered from her absence.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh baby, oh buddy, oh pal...you already know what I'm gonna say here! LUCIFER 👏🏻 IS 👏🏻 THE 👏🏻 KING 👏🏻 OF 👏🏻 CUNNILINGUS!!! This has already been said a million times but I'LL SAY IT AGAIN! He could live off eating your pussy alone!! Man needs his fill AT LEAST once a day, he absolutely WORSHIPS your pussy! He has a forked tongue and he knows PRECISCELY how to use it! Your womanhood will never know peace when you're with Lucifer Morningstar! Your pleasure always comes first pun completely intended but he'd never turn down a blowjob from you! He always gets so red in the face when he watches you suck him off~

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You can count on one hand the amount of times Lucifer has been rough with you during sex, because it's extremely rare. He treats you like glass for the most part, always wanting to make the moment last as long as possible. He's VERY sensual when it comes to love making. Oh but when he's close to an orgasm, his pace picks up tenfold, almost too fast for you to register the amount of pleasure you're receiving. Almost~

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are definitely not Lucifer's thing. He views sex as a declaration of love, so to speak, it can't be rushed. However, there have been occasions where your over abundance of teasing caused him to snap and he had to push you onto the nearest surface and take care of you right then and there!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Considering he's the literal King of Hell, Lucifer can take as many risks as he pleases. Who's going to stop him? Although he doesn't like to push it, he'd rather keep your love making sessions private. But, semi public sex is not out of the question, especially when he wants to pound you on the balcony of his mansion where the entire Pride Ring can hear your moans.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lucifer's stamina is God-like, literally! He's not bound to the same restrictions as mortals so this man can go for literal hours if you let him! Of course you need a lot more breaks than he does and that's perfectly alright with him! But once you're ready to go again, it's off to the races!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You would definitely be the one to bring up toys in the bedroom with Lucifer. At first he might feel insecure because he thinks you need toys to help get you off, but that's the furthest thing from the truth! The first thing you bring up is a strap on, and oh my God, he's beet red. THIS MAN NEEDS TO BE PEGGED, DO YOU HEAR ME?? Pound that ass, he will fall even deeper in love with you than he already is!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lucifer isn't much of a tease himself, that's your department! The worst he'll do is squeeze your ass or place his hand a little too high up your thigh for it to be considered casual touching. His go to move if he's in a frisky mood will be to flash his signature V-shaped fingers over his mouth once he knows no one is watching.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh let me tell you something, this man is LOUD. Not in terms of actual words, but his sounds! Lucifer cannot help himself, his moans and pleas and whimpers are so fucking cute, you know for sure that you're doing something right when he mewls at the top of his lungs! It's music to your ears, this man is DESPERATE for you!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I made this headcanon a little bit ago, but I'm a firm believer that Lucifer is really not a fan of doggy style. He's such a romantic that his desire to see your face when you have sex is EXTREMELY strong. Sure you have a great ass that's fun to smack and grab at, but nothing compares looking into your eyes as you both cum.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Oh you know Lucifer is packing! He's not hung like a horse, but he's definitely larger than average, I would probably say around 7.5 -8 inches. Uncut. I will not explain further lol. His dick is slightly on the skinnier side in terms of girth but he knows exactly how to use it to make you scream~

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When it comes to you, Lucifer's sex drive is through the roof! Sex marathons are not an uncommon practice between the two of you, a few had gone on for days at a time! If he could spent the rest of eternity inside of you, it would not be long enough for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Lucifer usually falls asleep after you, not just because he has stamina of heavenly proportions, but because he wants to make sure you're taken care of. You tend to crash pretty fast after a long session and he wants to make sure you're cleaned up before you zonk out. Once he knows you're alright, it's cuddle time baby and you know he uses his wings to cover the both of you when you drift off to sleep together.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #enjoy some midnight smut~

[adoresol]

♥︎ 𓂃 all you have to do is, WAIT — p. wonbin

1.6k *smut ⚠︎ fem!bodied reader. making out, oral (fem + male receiving), fingering, cum swallowing. may have accidentally incorporated sub!wonbin...

request: idk if you’ve seen the video of wonbin looking at shotaro w puppy eyes and pouting but i NEED a fic where wonbin pleads the reader for kisses while theyre busy doing smthg and once reader gives in for just a kiss, he makes it into something more iykwim,, if you can do this ill actually love u forever‼️

author's note: thank you sm for patiently waiting, i'm sorry it took so long but it's finally here <3 + stream wait by dino!!

WONBIN KNOWS THAT HE'S being dramatic, acting as if he hasn't had sex with you in centuries when in all reality, it has been three days (three days too long, he'd say). but he also knows that currently, your responsibility lies with helping a family member with their wedding. you have always been an excellent baker, it doesn't take much for you to agree with an offer with a smile.

it's one of the things wonbin loves about you, the fact that you don't let negative emotions subside within you and rather, you allow for new opportunities and friendships to occur. the friendliness is exactly what brought him to you in the first place.

but, he can't help it if he misses his gorgeous girlfriend, even if it's only been a few days.

wonbin's given signs, many, many signs. he can't help but wonder if you're purposefully ignoring them or are far too busy preoccupied on the arrangements of your cousin's wedding. “hey, my love.” you greet him with a smile, giving him a fraction of a second before you went back to focusing on setting the timer for the oven. he smiled warmly at you, his eyes never leaving your frame. wonbin admires you, it's evident in any way you could think of. but the very proof lies within his gaze, his brown eyes softening as he looks at you, who's far too busy to even notice his desire.

or, at least that's how he sees it.

“wonbin, if you stare too hard you might notice something you don't want to.” you joked, scrunching your nose at the comment you made towards yourself. wonbin loves you, all versions of you. “it's the opposite, staring at you makes me fall in love with you all over again.” his footsteps making its way towards you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist and his head tilting to rest upon the spine of your back.

“i'm busy, you know this.” you sighed, trying to shrug off the clingy boy as you tried to mix the batter of raw eggs, flour, sugar, and other ingredients that wonbin can't bother to remember because that's what he has you for. “i do, but i miss you. i miss my girlfriend.” wonbin's never this bold, and you felt your heart leap at his obvious need. but you had a commitment and you were not going to throw it all away, knowing it would only lead to you rushing to get everything done the morning after. the day of the wedding.

“my love, i'm almost done. it won't take me that long.” you tried to reassure him, but his ears fell deaf to it all. “you said that last time and i ended up falling asleep by the time you were done.” wonbin complained, his arms holding onto you tighter.

you turned around, his grip loosening up a bit even if he was reluctant to do so. his hair falling in front of his eyes and staring back into yours, his face conformed into a pout. he was pouting, like a child who didn't get their way. laughing at his facial expression, your hands grabbed the sides of his face, placing a delicate peck on the top of his forehead. “i'm busy, wonbin. just give me a couple of hours and i'm all yours.”

“but i want you to be all mine now.” the way he was looking at you almost made you surrender to him. you sighed and brought your hand up to rest on the side of his jaw, tilting his head upwards to look at you. leaning in, you felt your lips touch his and his reaction was almost incredible, his body sinking into yours. the way his hands brought you closer to his body as his mouth moved along yours, soft breaths and a whine threatening to leave his lips.

you pressed your hands against his chest, detaching yourself from wonbin. whenever he looks at you, it's light and full of adoration but at this moment, it was quickly replaced with need. you turned around to continue mixing the batter, no matter how distracted you had let yourself get you couldn't bother yourself with it any further. “wonbin.. just wait, please? all you have to do it wait.”

and wait he did not.

slamming your hands down onto the counter, you bit down on your lip to avoid from encouraging his needy behavior. wonbin's hands trailing down into your pants and under your lacy panties, a groan leaving his lips when he felt just how wet you had truly been. “it's not just me.” he muttered into your ear, placing kisses down your shoulder as his fingers found home inside your pussy, thrusting them in and out with fluidity from how drenched you had been. you whined and hung your head low, your hips stuttering into the palm of his hand for the attention that you'd been refusing to admit you've been needing.

“i can't wait anymore. you want this just as bad as i do, i know you do.” wonbin whined against your skin, stripping you from your shorts. he lifted you, turning you around to face him, sitting you up on the counter. he placed kisses down your body, and stopped right over your pussy, pressing his tongue flat against your panties. instinctively, your hands reached to his hair, tugging on it with a whine. “take them off.” you told him, nodding when he looked back up for reassurance.

the second your panties came off, wonbin's tongue entered in between your folds, his nose angled and brushing against your clit gently.

it's been so long, you couldn't help but feel your orgasm reaching quickly from his simple actions. he sucked on your clit while looking up at you through his bangs, his big eyes peering into yours with so much lust.

“oh, fuck.” you gulped, throwing your head back as wonbin continued to fuck his tongue into your heat, his pace was consistent– it was sloppy and desperate, like he'd been waiting for this moment to occur. the fact that he'd so quickly gotten on his knees and pushed your legs apart for his tongue to dive into your cunt made your stomach turn.

wonbin had been so caught up with making you cum on his tongue, that he didn't realize how hard he had gotten. his cock was leaking inside of his joggers, the uncomfortable feeling causing him to press a hand against his hard on. groaning as he touched himself through the soft material, wanting nothing more than to be inside of you. before he knew it, you moaned louder, your cunt grinding against his mouth and your hands tugging harder on his hair. although it hurt, wonbin believes that pain has never felt better than now.

wonbin closed his eyes as he cleaned you up, standing up and watching as your chest heaved, your eyes were shut closed from the euphoric feeling. “kiss me.” you spoke, and it did not take him long before he bent down to latch his lips onto yours. you whined against him from the aggressiveness, tasting your own juices from his tongue. your hand reached down to his joggers, palming him through the clothing. he hissed into your mouth, letting out soft groans and whines. wrapping your hand around his face, you kept kissing him feverishly, while you took off his joggers with the help of your hands and your foot.

“baby's so hard, wanted this for a while, didn't you?” you spoke against his mouth, wonbin nodding as soon as the words left your lips. “i'm sorry, my love.” pulling away from the heated kiss, looking into his eyes. “i'll make it up to you.” you gestured for him to take off his shirt as you stood up from the counter, engaging in yet another kiss.

your lips trailed down from his lips to the corners of his mouth, to his sharp jawline and down towards his collarbones. suckling softly on wonbin's pretty skin, your hands ghosting the sides of his body before they landed on his boxers. “so pretty, wonbin.” you mumbled against his chest, looking up at him with a gentle smile. his cheeks were flushed and his eyes softened up when looking at you, despite the amount of sexual desire he craved so badly from you. your hands helped to take off his undergarments, then wrapping your hand around his leaking cock and jerking it slowly. “so, so pretty.”

wonbin moaned at the combination of your words and the attention his cock was finally getting. the way you left kisses down his body, and continued pouring so much care into him. his heart leaped, just as his cock did, when you got down on your knees and peered up at him with the utmost prettiest eyes he's ever seen. kissing down his shaft, your hand moving his cock in a quicker pace from the way his moans only increased with every breath he took. you chuckled softly at his reactions, looking up at him as you stuck your tongue out to press the tip of his tongue against. you hummed at the sensation, moving your mouth further to engulf his length into your mouth.

wonbin's hands found their way to your head, patting it gently despite how needy he'd been feeling. your warm mouth allowing him much more pleasure, the way you managed to shove his entire length down your throat without any uncertainties. you knew you could take it, especially if it came down to making your boyfriend feel good.

you felt his cock twitching in your mouth and you knew he was about to cum, continuing your actions at an ever quicker pace and even moaning around his length to increase stimulation. wonbin's breaths grew heavy and he groaned as he felt himself release inside of your mouth, constant moans exiting from his lips.

you slowly pulled away from his cock, licking your lips with a grin as you looked up to see his satisfied expression. you smirked, “why don't we take this somewhere else?”

#adoresol ✮ #riize #riize imagines #riize smut #park wonbin imagines #park wonbin smut #wonbin imagines #wonbin smut #riize wonbin #riize wonbin smut

[xratwriterx]

A Story For Monster Fuckers

NSFW 18+

Synopsis: What starts as a classic horror story about a terrifying beast eating you alive becomes something far sluttier.

Word Count: 5000 (give or take)

Kinks/Triggers: wendigo(?) x female reader, NOT a lore accurate wendigo, monster x female reader, hell of a size difference, tongue fucking, multiple orgasms, breeding, it's a love story kinda but you're also silly and delulu.

Note: This is NOT an authentic wendigo. You're getting the stereotypical deer monster, not the humanoid cannibal creature from actual legend. I feel it's important to mention this, because the stories of what wendigos and skinwalkers are and such have been tainted by modern American culture, and deserve to be appreciated for what they are. I take LOTS of creative liberties in this story, and I just wanted to make sure y'all were aware. ;D

—

It was supposed to have just been a regular stroll through the woods.

You were lost. Of course you were lost. You had known from the start that this whole thing was a wretched and horrible idea. But oh, you just had to listen to your friends didn't you? It wasn't like you had anything better to do…

Your buddy Benjamin in particular had made you feel somewhat comfortable with the whole idea. He was a massive man whose facial hair made him look far older than he actually was. He liked to go hunting around here, and he even brought his hunting rifle with him before coming to pick you and your friends up, more so to make you feel safe than anything else. “I've traveled through these woods for years now. I know every nook and cranny, ain't nothin gonna hurt you out here,” he had spoken as if the whole idea of your fear was annoying, though you knew he meant no harm, “Those stories you hear are just told for the fun of it. Those old geezers yapping on about cannibal cryptids just get a kick outta scaring you.” It was hard to not feel safe around him. He'd made himself very clear that he wasn't interested in you, (frankly, he didn't seem to have an iota of desire for a partner in his body), and he'd always been there to pick you up when you fell down. So when all of your friends were gonna go with him down some new and obscure little trail he had found just for the hell of it, it wasn't too challenging to egg you on to just join in.

Now you were really regretting listening to him.

You couldn't pinpoint when it was exactly that you had gotten lost. You were never all that good at paying attention, and you normally liked to just go nonverbal and let your friends do all the yapping while you were out and about. You had gotten caught up in the forest's beauty, staring up at the leaves and how the sun shot its rays of light between the gaps. It had been like walking underneath one enormous painting, filled with random and intricate layers of dazzling greens and soft browns. It was remarkably beautiful, so much so that by the time you stopped to look around again…

You had tried calling out for somebody, but nobody had come. You had tried backtracking, but everything looked the same, and there were a lot more diverging paths than what you had remembered. Worst of all, the sun was going down, and you knew once its light was gone that you wouldn't be able to see a thing.

You tried to take a deep breath. It was difficult not to panic, especially because of the sheer unfamiliarity of it all. It was like the entire layout of the forest changed every time you blinked. The very air you were breathing seemed to be tainted. It was like that feeling you get whenever you walk into a place and just know there's something paranormal about it. These woods were more than just haunted. It was almost as if you had been placed under some kind of curse.

Just as it was really getting dark, you saw a large field through a thicket of bushes. You hesitated for a moment, before finally deciding to go off the trail completely. Maybe a helicopter could see you better from a big open space like this, though you hoped it wouldn't also make you more visible to anything that wanted to eat you…

The sun was just about gone now. Great. At least there were some large rocks near the center of the field that you could hide by. They leaned on each other and were shaped in a way that provided minimal shelter, but it was better than nothing. You huddled up and decided to just keep your mouth shut until you heard something that sounded friendly…

As time went by, you checked to see if your phone had any signal for good measure. Of course, it didn't, but that little box of light and colors was your only piece of familiarity in all of this. You took a moment to look through your photos, clearing some unnecessary clutter while thinking back to all of the memories you had before this.

You weren't gonna die out here. You were scared out of your damn mind, but you knew in your gut that this wasn’t how it was going to end. You couldn't have been THAT far from home, and even if you were, you were in a spot that must've been easy to find from the air. Maybe tomorrow you could even grab some rocks and spell out the word “help” or something. If anything, this was an opportunity to collect some crazy new y/n lore.

You turned down the brightness on your phone and looked up at the sky for what was supposed to be a moment, before becoming completely entranced. You had never seen so many stars before, and the moon was casting its light down on the soft grass that surrounded you. You had never seen something that managed to be so simultaneously beautiful and creepy. It certainly wasn't helping that everything had just gone utterly silent. You could've sworn you had heard birds chirping before, but now there was nothing. When you finally took a moment to acknowledge your surroundings again, you felt your heart sink. There was something in the woods looking back at you.

You could barely make out its figure, but it was standing right at the forest edge, and it did not look normal. It wasn't moving at all, but you knew it wasn't just an oddly shaped tree. You could feel its eyes on you. A cool rush of adrenaline had shot out from your spine through your entire body. You refused to blink, because you knew the moment you did it would be gone. Sure, seeing some beast in the distance was frightening, but it was better than knowing something was out there without knowing its exact location. You sat completely still, hoping it wasn't looking at you, even though you knew it was. This was definitely the most intense staring contest you had ever been in.

You could feel your eyes starting to burn and well with tears, but you just couldn't bring yourself to blink. You did your best to keep an eye on the thing as you slowly opened your phone and pressed the button for the flashlight. With a triumphant movement, you raised the light to see what was there and…

There was nothing. The light didn't reach. In fact, the bright light caused your eyes to adjust, and now you couldn’t see the tree line. Not only that, but you had also just confirmed to this creature that you were in fact present. You quickly turned the light off, and of course by the time your eyes had adjusted again, the creature was long gone.

Cursing yourself for making such an idiotic move, you tried to huddle closer to the rocks, as if they'd protect you at all from whatever was out there. You knew you had seen something. This wasn't your eyes playing tricks on you, as much as you wished that were the case.

Every second felt like a minute. The tension was so thick it could've been sliced with a disposable plastic knife that you’d find at a birthday party. You were frantically scanning the tree line in front of you, but the rocks you were hiding behind blocked any view of the woods behind you, and you didn't dare try to look around. You were just waiting for something to slowly peek its head around. Your brain kept conjuring up worse and worse ideas of what you had just looked at, making this living nightmare all the more unbearable, and that wasn't even mentioning the regret you felt for pulling your damn phone flashlight out.

The woods began to speak again. Whatever had been looking at you was gone now. You nearly screamed when you saw something trotting across the field in front of you, but you let out a sigh of relief when you saw it was a deer.

A few more followed, and they moved with purpose, almost as if they wanted to get through the field as quickly as possible. You didn't blame them, but you weren't about to join in. This field was your only chance of rescue, and you weren't about to let some spooky cryptid fresh out of a shitty YouTube analog horror video scare you off. You triumphantly smiled and almost laughed, more out of the insanity of it all than anything else, but you didn't dare make a sound. You had no delusions about the fact that whatever the hell was out there was absolutely real.

You tried to conjure up from memory what exactly those old men in town had said in those tales about the forest. It was a legend that had been passed down through the generations, one of a great beast that was once the most handsome man in an old native tribe. He was an arrogant man, and a cunning warrior, who through his strength and charm had become the leader of his people. But when this had happened, he only became greedy for more. He started to attack neighboring tribes, and he started a unique tradition of feasting on the captured leaders while they were still alive. This displeased the gods, and the more he did this, the more corrupt and insane he became. One day, the nearby tribes finally banded together as one and managed to capture him. It was then that he was banished to roam the woods until he died, never to be seen again…

But, while his mortal punishment had been given, the gods were still not satisfied, and so they cursed him with eternal life, a twisted form, and a permanent, insatiable hunger for human flesh. Rumor has it that he roams these woods to this day, looking for his next victim. His original name has long since been forgotten. Only the word “Wendigo” remains…

Before, you had at least felt comfort in knowing these stories weren't true, but now that you had seen that thing, you couldn't think up a better explanation. Maybe you wouldn't make it out of here alive after all…

No, the minute you started to think like that was the moment it was all over. This was a prank, some cruel stupid prank your so called “friends” were playing on you. So what if they had always been extraordinarily kind and understanding before, and had never pulled something remotely mean on you before. It was a better explanation than being hunting by a mythical creature, right?

You took a deep breath, and called out into the woods, “I'm not scared of you!” The woods went quiet again the moment you finished speaking. You could almost feel the trees around you calling you a dullard. “Th-this is all just a stupid prank! And it's NOT funny! So- just come out RIGHT now! Or I'll-”

Something in the forest screamed.

You nearly squeaked before going silent. That sound you had heard was not human. It sounded like a mixture between a howl and a screech, something along the lines of a dying bovine. It had come from behind the rocks you were hiding in.

A few moments passed, and another sound came forth. This time it was a low growl, accompanied with the sound of claws on rock. You knew it was doing this on purpose. If it wanted to be silent, it definitely could've. It was slowly making its way to your left, coming around to reveal itself to you. There was nothing you could do to stop this creature.

It started with a hand, covered in a thin layer of black fur and tipped with sharp claws. Then came around the rest of the creature. It must've been at least 8 feet tall, though right now it was crouching low to get a better look at you. Its waist was deathly thin, its skin gripping around its ribcage. Despite its humanoid shape, its head was completely foreign. Its face took the form of a deer’s skull, with a set of antlers coming from atop its head. Most apparent of all was a pair of dimly lit red eyes...

There was no way this was some kind of prank. It would take a level of coordination that you knew your friends couldn't pull off. You were certain you were looking at that beast of legend the locals talked about so much. You were face to face with the Wendigo.

It let out another low growl. You desperately wanted to move, but fear had paralyzed you. It moved with surprising grace, leaning its head forward to give you an almost curious look. “A-are you gonna eat me or what?” you barely managed to whimper out. The creature simply stared into your eyes for a moment before… shaking its head.

“Wh…what?” you gawked in disbelief, “Can you… understand me?” The creature slowly moved its head up and down. You laughed. How else were you supposed to react? Not only had you just met a supernatural creature, it wasn't trying to kill you.

“So… you can't talk, but you can- okay, there aren't any mushrooms in this forest that can mess me up, right?” The creature nonchalantly shrugged in response, backing up slightly and looking around before looking back at you. “That… isn't helpful,” you sighed. Suddenly, the creature grabbed your ankles.

“Hey! What're you-” it pulled your waist out from under you, dirtying up your jeans as it began to sniff you all over. You giggled and kicked your feet, trying to tuck your neck away as the creature smelled you, “Heheheh- h-hey! Cut that out! That tickles-” What started as short sniffs turned into a deep inhale. The creature lifted its head back a bit, as if relishing in your scent before leaning forward again as it pulled your waist closer to… his.

Yep, it was very apparent now that this was a boy. There was a massive piece of evidence now throbbing between his legs to prove it. You blushed at the sight before quickly looking back up the monster, “Y-you’re joking. Awwww great, you're telling me I got a HORNY forest monster?!” The Wendigo responded by bringing his hands to your hips, grasping them with shocking gentleness as he purred in your ear. The worst part was, the whole thing was turning you on.

The beast brayed with what sounded like slight desperation, but oddly enough, he wasn't advancing things any further. The tip of his fat monster cock was already starting to ooze with precum, but something was holding him back. You looked up to see the Wendigo was staring you down, almost as if he wanted something…

“N-no way- are you asking me for my consent?” you spoke in utter shock. The creature simply groaned, letting out a short and frustrated huff before nodding. “Okay, first of all. I don't appreciate your sass. Second- hey!” The creature had gently begun dragging the tip of its tongue from your collarbone to your jawline, eliciting a slight moan, much to your embarrassment. The beast’s chest rumbled and jumped, a deep, powerful laugh coming from behind its exposed jaw. “H-hey. None of this is funny. Okay mister? You need to- hhhhah…” The Wendigo lightly flicked its tongue along your neck as its knee pressed up between your legs. You tried to close them, but the monster responded by grabbing your knees with his hands and easily prying them open. The monster growled at you again, refusing to take things any further.

You took a moment to catch your breath and think. Maybe this creature could help you? It certainly didn't seem like anything in the forest wanted to mess with it. Even so, you felt you were perfectly capable of handling things on your own. You still liked your little plan with the helicopter and the rocks.

No, there was something else now. Morbid curiosity. You were curious as to what it would be like to let this thing fuck you. The monster certainly seemed like he had the capacity to be gentle…

“O-okay… I-I'll let you do it… but you have to follow my instructions. No funny business, g-got it?” the monster slowly nodded in understanding, backing off slightly and bowing his head.

“Okay… u-uhm… do you have a name?” the beast looked up at you before shaking its head. You found this to be strange. Maybe the legends had gotten some things wrong? Surely a former human had a name. “Hm… how about… Wendy?” you smiled sheepishly. It was an odd (and frankly slightly childish) name to give him, but he didn't seem to mind. “Alright…” you mumbled awkwardly, sitting in silence with the creature and not knowing exactly what to do next.

Thankfully, Wendy seemed to be willing to take some initiative. He leaned forward and began grinding his knee up to your crotch again. You let yourself breathe freely now, relaxing as he brought a hand up to your chest and began to massage one of your breasts. “You seem- nnghh- awfully experienced for a forest monster. N-not that I've ever fucked one before. This is definitely- hah- a first for me,” you tried to speak evenly between your little mewls of pleasure, as you let the beast start to help you out of your clothes.

Despite his massive hands, Wendy was extraordinarily careful with you, helping to make sure you didn't tear any of your clothes. He even knew how to undo your bra. As you laid on your now bare back in the cool forest grass, you blushed as the creature took a moment to look you over once more. “Do you like what you see?” you nervously squeaked out. Wendy chuckled and gave you a slight nod, before bringing his hand down between your legs.

He started with a gentle touch, slowly slipping his fingers up your folds before finding your clit. You whimpered and seized up a bit from how sensitive you were and he quickly pulled his hand away, purring in your ear as if to reassure you and giving you a small lick on the cheek before trying again. He went even slower this time, and when he found the sweet spot again he simply held his middle and ring finger there. You took a moment to breathe. It all felt so fast paced, but the more you looked at Wendy, the more you wanted him to fuck you. It was the dirtiness of it all that was really getting to you, allowing this savage beast to have his way with you. You heard a questioning grunt come from him, and you nodded in response, “Yes, I'm ready. J-just start slow…”

Wendy did exactly as you wished, rubbing slowly as he began to place little licks along your cheek and neck again. This seemed to be his way of kissing you, since he didn't have any lips. He grumbled something unintelligible in your ear again, nuzzling his bony face up to yours in an affectionate manner. It was difficult to get a read on his face, since he couldn't exactly make facial expressions either, but his body language certainly implied that he was into you. If he was a human once, you reckoned it somewhat made sense. If anything, it explained why he was so pent up.

He began to move his fingers a little faster now, and you were both settling into a steady rhythm. The creature leaned in closer to you, grunting with arousal and letting out hot breaths of air. He was surprisingly gentle for such a large thing. You could feel yourself melting to his touch, relaxing your muscles as he silently guided you closer and closer to finishing.

“F-fuck Wendy- whoever taught you knew what they were doing- h-hahh-” you could barely speak between the relaxing waves of pleasure, “You're gonna make me cum..” Wendy wasn't speeding up anymore. As you bucked your hips from the pleasure, he simply grabbed you and held you in place, forcing you to hold still and take what he was giving you. It was almost terrifying how easily he could manhandle you. Despite his somewhat slender and unnatural appearance, he was leaps and bounds stronger than anyone you had ever been with before. “F-fuck Wendy! Nngh!-” you squirmed and moaned in ecstacy as you approached your peak, hearing the beast on top of you let out a gentle groan of satisfaction as your orgasm finally arrived. Your entire body shuddered with delight, your head lolling back as you took a moment to recover…

But Wendy wasn't done with you yet.

Now he had slipped lower on your body, prodding your entrance with his bony snout and braying something you couldn't understand. He took a moment to sniff you, before deeply inhaling and embracing your scent. “Hey!” you tried to scoot back, but he easily pulled you back closer, reaching down with his other hand and grasping his massive cock. You didn't know if you'd even be able to handle the thing, but Wendy seemed to have other ideas in mind.

That was when you felt his tongue starting to push inside of you. It was slick and warm with his saliva, and you gasped with surprise at the feeling of it. “Slowly, please,” you squeaked as you felt like you were starting to be stretched. Wendy did as you asked, but he certainly wasn't stopping. He buried his unnaturally long tongue deeper and deeper inside of your pussy, wiggling it around slightly to get a feel for you. It wasn't as thick as his cock was, so it felt a lot easier to handle.

He then began to make his tongue ripple. It felt a bit odd at first, but each ripple pushed right up into your g-spot, and you were quickly finding that you liked it. It was a completely unique sensation that you had never experienced before, but in a way it made sense. Having a long, powerful, dexterous tongue probably helped to break down food, since chewing is difficult to do without a mouth to hold all of that food in. Wendy had begun to stroke himself faster, groaning with delight at your flavor as he tasted your insides.

You tried to match his rhythm with your hips, grinding along with him so that he pushed into your g-spot a little harder. He settled his weight comfortably into his knees, freeing a hand from supporting his weight to hold onto yours. His thumb lovingly rubbed the back of your hand, and you could already feel yourself building up to another orgasm. “Damnit Wendy- f-fUCK you shouldn't be this good- you're gonna make me cum again!” you spoke with a pleasure riddled tone, but you knew it wasn't just skill that was getting you so turned on. You had never done something so deviant before. A one night stand was already a new experience (if you could even call this a one night stand) but you weren't just getting busy with some random guy. You were getting busy with-

“H-HAHH!!” your thoughts were interrupted as you got swept up in an orgasm. Your body shivered and shook as Wendy worked you right back into place with his strength, quickly yet smoothly easing off from working his tongue before gently retracting it from inside you.

You took a moment to breathe, and as you did, the beast slowly clambered his way back to being fully on top of you. You could see his tip was leaking with pre, to the point that a droplet dripped right onto your bare cunt. “W-wait,” you thought out loud, “This couldn't get me pregnant, could it?” Wendy didn't respond. “W-wendy?” you tried to reason with him, “Hey, y-you said you would listen to me, right? Wendy?!” You felt his strong grip on your thigh as he laid his cock out on your stomach, showing you with a seemingly amused expression just how deep inside you he would be going. You gulped nervously, whimpering in terror, “Please.. j-just don't hurt me…”

Wendy's hand then came up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he leaned forward and purred into your ear. You knew he was trying to comfort you, but the fear of pregnancy was still a very real thing.

But… fuck. Wouldn't it be hot to just let this beast have his way? You could just imagine the feeling of him dumping his hot, sticky load inside of you, fertilizing your womb with his seed. You could live a simple life out here in the woods. There would be no more societal pressures or worries. All you'd have to do was take monster dick and learn to live this new life. It didn't seem so bad the more you thought of it…

Wendy interrupted your thoughts once more with a gentle little lick on your cheek, followed by the feeling of his tip pressing up to your folds. He brayed with what sounded like desperation, the muscles in his free hand tensing as he closed it into a fist. He was struggling to control himself.

“Hey, shhhh…” you took Wendy's hand in yours, looking up at him with a gentle yet sheepish smile before saying, “Give it to me… pl-please…”

For a moment you both were locked in that moment, gazing into each other's eyes. Wendy let out a long winded exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. Then, with a deep throated growl, he began to push into you.

You winced. It hurt. You had expected it considering his size. But it also wasn't as bad as you had expected. You realized that him using his tongue earlier had not only felt amazing, but it had also primed you to take his cock instead of just going with that first. You assumed it was purposeful anyway. Reading the creature's thoughts was anything but easy.

He started with small thrusts, with each push stretching you a little more and allowing him to go a little deeper. He took his time, encouraging you with small “kisses” and gentle touches until he was finally fully submerged inside of you. You were soaking wet at this point, your slick fluids lathering up Wendy's dick as he began to get more assertive. He wrapped his arms under yours and held onto your shoulders, and you wrapped your arms around him to start to dig your nails into his back. “Oh god- W-wendyyyy,” you groaned in ecstacy, “You're sooooo big… mnngfff. Ddddon't stooop.” You were beginning to slur your words, your brain shutting down and going foggy as Wendy began to pick up his pace. Now that you had adjusted, his cock felt absolutely amazing. You never knew before that there was so much space inside of you to stimulate.

It didn't help that Wendy was getting more and more vocal with each thrust. What had started as gentle purrs and groans had turned into louder and louder animalistic roars, something like a mixture between a human and a deer. He certainly wasn't ashamed to speak his mind, grunting and growling unintelligible things in your ear that you could only assume was his way to dirty talking. Without context it might have even been comedic, but in this moment it felt all the more attractive to hear him desperately trying to communicate how turned on he was, and it wasn't helping that each thrust was bringing you closer and closer to the brink. You looked in Wendy's eyes. He was getting close too. You could just feel it.

You then wrapped your legs around him, refusing to let him pull out, even if he had been planning on it. You couldn't let this desire go now. You needed to feel him cum in you. “That's right. Fucking christ- pleeease cum inside me! Fill me. Fire that potent sticky load inside my fertile little womb and get me pregnant. I want it- no- I need it, so give it to me big boy! Knock me the fuck up!”

Wendy let out a final triumphant howl as you squealed with overwhelming pleasure. He pushed himself as deep inside of you as he could as you both reached your climaxes. It was timing made into perfection. Of course you were cumming at the same time. Your bodies were made for one another. That's what made doing something so wrong feel so right. You could actually feel his cock throb and pulse with each rope of semen that shot out from his tip, filling your guts more and more. It felt satisfyingly heavenly, like you were comfortably full from a full course meal…

He then slumped forward, nearly crushing you before barely catching himself. He huffed with exhaustion, his eyes blinking as if he was dazed. He didn't pull out, keeping his cum plugged up inside you as he began to lay himself down with you at his side. You allowed your bodies to wrap around one another's, the cool grass making for a surprisingly comfortable bed as Wendy cuddled you close. You snuggled up to his furry chest, listening to his lungs rhythmically fill and empty themselves of air.

You could feel your eyes starting to flutter. This felt oddly comfortable. The bright moon above was sheltered from your eyes by Wendy's arm, and he protectively held you close. Maybe the plan with the helicopter could wait a while. Maybe everything had worked out just fine already. Maybe you were exactly where you needed to be…

—

Whew! This one took me a while. It was my longest and most arduous project here yet. I'm taking a much deserved break. Expect shorter stuff for the time being. If you've read this far, I'm genuinely honored. To even reach one person and give them something to enjoy like this is enough to make it all worth it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3

#smut #18+ only #smut writing #x reader #male x female #male x reader #monster x reader #monster fucker #size difference #nsft #this took me way too long to make

[win-writes]

𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

༶ pairing; tachihara x mafia!reader

༶ contains; angst to fluff, mentions of guns, crying, kissing, possibly ooc tachihara at the end

༶ word count; 2.2k

༶ a/n; the dialogues in red are taken from the original dangerously yours, be sure to check it out as well!! this is my biggest big brain moment, enjoy

Silence.

You stand in the quiet alley, alone. The secret message from the one you once held dear in your heart asked you to meet him here. Still you feel uncertain if that was the right thing to do, considering everything that happened and shook your world.

Betrayal.

That was the most accurate way to describe what you're feeling right now. A feeling you would never even dream he would flood your heart with. Not when he was the whole reason you believed in love in the first place.

Empty.

Exactly how you imagine your life from now on. Empty. Nothing to bring a smile to your face. No one to hold you when you need it the most. Nothing to convince you that maybe there's light in this life hidden in the shadows.

"You came"

His voice unintentionally forces your body to face him. You barely recognize the man staring at you across the dark lane. His casual clothes now replaced by a formal uniform with a long cape hanging over his shoulders and most of his beautiful hair covered by a military cap. His eyes are no longer filled with excitement like they do every time they meet yours. Now they are dull with sadness. Yet, he seems relieved to find you here waiting for him.

"I'm so glad you-"

You cut him off by pulling your gun, pointing it directly at him. You notice the way his eyes widen at your reaction. He has met a lot of people in his life that threatened to kill him, he could almost say he's gotten used to it. But he could never imagine a scenario where you would be the one pointing a deadly weapon at him like this.

Neither did you.

"This is a gun in my hand, Michizou" you stand still, not moving a muscle while you talk "I'd advise you to be careful what you say"

Tachihara exhales deeply, letting his shoulders relax. His gaze falls to the ground for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts. He knows the time is limited and not enough to explain in detail all the things he so desperately wanted to share with you all this time.

His amber orbs meet your cold ones. He takes slow steps towards you, lifting his hands just enough to sign you to calm down "Please my love, there's no need for this to happen" You remain still, "Don't call me that. Don't you dare to call me that again" your fingers disable the safety in your pistol "Choose your next words wisely, this is your last warning"

Tachihara gives you a sad smile, softening his facial features. He loathes you looking at him with those eyes, ready to take his life at any second. If it wasn't for you, he'd already be on his knees, crying his heart out. But he can't. He must keep it all inside, as he did all those years. Now it's you the one who's hurt and in need of comfort. His feelings come second to yours.

"You mean you actually going to kill me?" his tone is calm as he steadily approaches you.

"I mean just that" the aura surrounding you is cold.

"Well, go ahead" he takes his final step, standing in front of you with the tip of your weapon burried in his chest.

Now it's your turn to be at loss of words. Your frozen expression finally breaks. A sting of melancholy and confusion is now taking over your features at his antics. Your shooter twitches in your palm, but Tachihara refuses to focus his attention anywhere else but your face.

"You don't think I'll do it! That's why you're so brave..." your glance falls to the gun, "You wouldn't be so brave otherwise.. You're a coward at heart!" your voice cracks, "I knew you were hiding something.. I knew you carried a burden in your back and I tried so hard to let you know that you don't have to go through this alone!" Tachihara remains quiet, waiting patiently for you to let it all out "But like a coward you never truly trusted me with your life like you told me!" you scream with all the strength you have left.

You keep your head low, unable to look at that stranger's eyes any longer. Because that's what this person is to you now. A stranger. Eveything you've come to love about him is now gone. The moment the boss revealed Tachihara's true identity to you, you felt like you're awakening from a dream. Like all the memories you had with him were part of a good night's sleep and now you woke up to a reality that seems like a nightmare.

"You lied to me.." your hand gives out, letting your weapon to fall on the ground, "You deceived me.." your vision becomes blurry and your kness feel weak, "You made me fall for a person that doesn't exist.." your voice is heavy with emotion and sobs slowly rise in your throat "You ruined my life for your stupid mission!" at last, you fall on your knees, letting your tears to roll down your face.

It brought a pang to his heart seeing you like this. Broken. All because of him. He hesitates at first, unsure if it's wise to hold you at this moment. But his heart knows best. He kneels in front of you, holding your trembling hands into his own, "You can't imagine how sorry I feel for what I've done to you" too drained to snatch your hands away, you just keep crying, facing the floor "Yes, I lied about who I was and you have every right to hate me for it" he places your hand right above his heart, gently pulling your face up to look into your shinning teary eyes "But I swear on my life, I never once lied about my feelings. I never once told you how much I love you without meaning it"

Part of you wants to pick up the gun and empty the clip all over him. To make him pay for all the lies he filled your head with. To make him pay for all the pain he brought you. But the dominant part of yourself, wants nothing more than to fall into his arms one last time.

And so you do.

You let your body fall into his and Tachihara is quick to hold you close in his embrace. You soak his uniform with your eye's waterfalls, buried into his chest. Your nails dig in his back, grabbing onto the fabric for dear life. His arms grip your form tightly, as if he'll never get the chance to do it again. With his face burried in your hair, he can't help but let his tears finally fall.

You stay like this for a while. The once quiet alley is now filled with sobs and whimpers. In your head, the loud voice of reasoning is yelling for you to escape this prison that is his comforting body you used to call home. But you silenced this voice the very moment you decided to meet him tonight.

A couple of minutes pass until you've both settled down. Tachihara gently caresses your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. You slowly lean back, moving your hands onto his chest. He takes a look at you. Face red and scrunched up, nose running, eyes puffed. He softly moves your hair out of your sweaty figure.

God, you look so beautiful even when you cry.

You lean into his touch with your eyes closed. He places a kiss on your forehead, savouring the moment for as long as he possibly can. "I'm sorry" his voice is raspy for all the crying "I'm really sorry" he places his hands on your cheeks looking deep into your bloodshot eyes "I'm really sorry my love"

Your body moves on its own. Your lips collide when you pull him closer by the fabric of his shirt. His hands immediately get tangled in your hair. The kiss is messy, saliva running down your chins, noses bumping, teeth grinding against each other. Your lips are salty, but taste just as sweet as all these times he kissed you on the daily all this time.

Words are not enough to describe your feelings. Not enough for Tachihara to share his thoughts and explanations with you. So you let your bodies do the talking. In the unique way that only they know.

You pull away breathless at the same time, panting hard. You feel lightheaded from all this tention. All the screaming, the crying and now kissing. You lean your head on his shoulder and mere seconds later, he rests his own on top of yours. Your fingers interlock together perfectly, like they are made for each other. He kisses the back of your hand, keeping it close to his heart.

"Stay"

Your voice is ever so soft, low almost like a whisper. You beg of him to stay with you, knowing that the possibilities of your wish coming true are slim to none "Please my angel, ask me anything but this" you look up, noticing gloom overtaking his features "You know I can't" he looks down, avoiding your large sad eyes "But you promised" your free hand aggressively pulls his chin your way, forcing him to face you "Are you going to break your promise after telling me you love me? Are you going to betray me again?"

"If I betray you.." he places his other hand on top of your connected limps "I betray myself" he continues, as his expression softens the more he looks at you "If I betray the Hunting Dogs.." his eyes fall your hands, softly stoking circles at the back of your palm "I betray my country.. My country is very dear to me.."

"Dearer than I?" your words escape your lips before you even process what you just said

"No.." his hand finds its place on your face once again "No, not dearer than you.."

"Then stay.." you desperately grab onto him, like he's about to leave you alone in an empty space, with only company your mixed thoughts and feelings, "Please don't leave me again.. What can I do to make you stay?.." your voice cracks as you feel another pool of tears forming in your eyes.

Tachihara takes a deep breath. He carefully places his arms around you to lift you up "I'm sorry" he looks down, face clouded in disappointment after apologizing for what feels like the 100th time. But there's truly nothing else he can do right now and it kills him. He places you on your feet to stand, but your hands stay gripped onto him, refusing to let him go.

"Can you promise me something instead, angel?" you look up to him as the last glimpse of hope ignites in your eyes "I want you to promise me, you'll stay safe" you feel that little hope slowly drowning at his words. He takes notice and gives you a warm smile, the smile you missed so much "Stay safe and once this is over.." he holds your face into his warm hands with eyes filled with so much love. Love that you implanted in his heart the day you met him.

"We'll run away together"

Your face lights up. Suddenly, the gloomy world around you is filled with colors again. You feel your shattered heart picking up its pieces and beating once more.

But you're quick to melt down your excitement, listening to that loud voice in your head for the first time today "Don't" you mumble as you put your hands on top of his "Don't fill me with hopes and promises just to break them and tear me apart again" you close your eyes and shake your head in denial.

"Now it's different" his voice rings heavily in your ear, hopelessly fighting your own in your head "I have nothing to hide from you anymore, you have nothing to be afraid of, don't you see it?" he lets a nervous laugh escape, before kneeling in front of you, yet another time.

"I love you" he breaths out "And I believe you love me" he holds your hand into his "You may as well take my heart y/n, it's already full of you!" he pecks your hand without taking his eyes away from yours "You walked into it the day we met.."

He stands up only to wipe the single tear you didn't even realize that fell down your eye "It's true, I can't promise to stay with you at the present" he caresses tenderly your soft cheeks "So let me promise to spend the rest of my life with you in the future"

At last, a genuine smile takes over your lips, making Tachihara's heart flatter, just like the first time you caught him staring at you in a meeting at the port mafia "No more secrets?" he giggles at your question out of relief. He doubts if his heart could take seeing you broken like that any longer. He leans into your face, softly brushing his lips against yours for one last time

"No more secrets."

#win; writes #tachihara x reader #tachihara scenario #tachihara michizou #bungo stray dogs tachihara #bsd tachihara #dangerously yours #tachihara angst #tachihara fluff #tachihara x you #tachihara x y/n #tachihara oneshots #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd x y/n #bsd angst #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs fluff #bungou stray dogs angst

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Jason doesn't want to leave Leo, but he starts to think that hanging out with Cal the hockey jock might be the least dangerous option in this place.

As they climb the icy staircase, Zethes stays behind them, his blade drawn. The guy might look like a disco-era reject, but there is nothing funny about his sword. Jason figures that one hit from that thing would probably turn him into a Popsicle.

Then there is the ice princess. Every once in a while, she'd turn and give Jason a smile, but there is no warmth in her expression. She regards Jason like he is an especially interesting science specimen – one she couldn't wait to dissect.

(Y/n) doesn't seem to notice, but Jason keeps catching the ice princess watching her closely, her eyes greedy.

(Y/n) was worried that they were being led into a trap. If things go bad, she isn't sure that she could get them out alive. Without thinking about it, she takes Piper's hand for reassurance.

The daughter of Aphrodite raises her eyebrows, but doesn't let go. "It'll be fine," Piper says softly. "It's just a talk, right?"

At the top of the stairs, the ice princess looks back and notices the two teens holding hands. Her smile fades. Suddenly, (Y/n)'s hand in Piper's turns ice cold – burning cold. She lets go, her fingers smoking with frost, and so are Piper's.

"Holy fuck," (Y/n) mutters for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

"Warmth is not a good idea here," the princess advises, "especially when I am your best change at staying alive. Please, this way."

Piper gives (Y/n) a nervous frown like, What was that about?

(Y/n) doesn't have an answers. Zethes pokes her in the back with his icicle sword, about half an inch above the small of her back, and a warning signal goes off in (Y/n)'s head – Too close! Too close!

They follow the princess down a massive hallway decked in frosty tapestries.

Freezing winds blow back and forth, and Jason's thoughts move almost as fast. He'd had a lot of time to think while they rode the dragon north, but he feels as confused as ever. Thalia's picture is still in his pocket, though he doesn't need to look at it anymore – her image has burned itself into his mind. It is bad enough not remembering his past, but to know he has a sister out there somewhere who might have the answer and to have no way of finding her. The only thing he knew about Thalia was (Y/n)'s comment earlier about how a statue of Hera had broken her legs.

In the picture, Thalia looks nothing like him. They both have blue eyes, but that is it. Her hair is black, and her complexion is more Mediterranean. Her facial features are sharper – like a hawk's.

Still, Thalia looks so familiar. Hera had left him just enough memory that he could be certain Thalia is his sister. But Annabeth had acted completely surprised when he'd told her, like she'd never heard of Thalia's having a brother. Did Thalia even know about him? How had they been separated?

(Y/n) continues to walk down the hall beside Piper, and she starts questioning the warning signal that had gone off in her head.

The River Styx's current swirls with strange objects – broken toys, ripped-up college diplomas, wilted homecoming corsages – all the dreams people had thrown away as they'd passed from life into death. Looking at the black water, (Y/n) can think of about three million places she'd rather swim.

"So," Percy begins. "We just jump in?

"You have to prepare yourself first," Nico says, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul."

"Sounds fun," (Y/n) mutters.

"This is no joke," Nico warns. There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to . . ." He glances behind the two children of Poesideon and his eyes widen. Percy and (Y/n) turn and find themselves face-to-face with a Greek warrior.

For a second, Percy thinks he's Ares, because the warrior looked exactly like the god of war – tall and buff, with a cruel, scarred face and closely shaven black hair. He is wearing a white tunic and bronze armor. He holds a plumed war helm under his arm, but his eyes are human – pale green like a shallow sea – and a blood arrow sticks out of his left calf, just above the ankle.

Percy stunk at Greek names, but even he knew the greatest warrior of all time, who had died from a wounded heel.

"Achilles," both (Y/n) and Percy say in unison.

The ghost nods. "I warned the other one not to follow my path. Now I will warn you." He looks first at Percy, and then at (Y/n).

"Luke? You spoke with Luke?" (Y/n) asks, frowning slightly.

"Do not do this," he says. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal's, but your weakness, your failings will increase as well."

"You mean I'll have a bad heel?" Percy asks. "Couldn't we just, like, wear something besides sandals? No offense?"

Achilles stares down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me into the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!"

And (Y/n) knows he means it. There is regret and bitterness in his voice. He was honestly trying to save them from a terrible fate.

But then again – Luke hadn't turned back. That's why he had been able to host the spirit of Kronos without his body disintegrating. This is how he'd prepared himself, and why he seemed impossible to kill. He'd bathed in the Styx and taken on the power of the greatest moral hero, Achilles. He was invincible.

(Y/n) exchanges a look with her brother.

"We have to," (Y/n) speaks for both of them. "Otherwise, we don't stand a chance."

Achilles lowers his head. "Let the gods witness that I tried. Heroes, if you mist do this, concentrate on your moral point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. THis is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No moral must be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you moral, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist."

"I don't suppose you could tell us Luke's mortal point?" Percy asks.

He scowls at Percy. "Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!"

With that happy thought, he vanishes.

"Percy," Nico says, "maybe he's right."

"This was your idea."

"I know, but now that we're here—"

"Just wait on the shore. If anything happens to us . . . Well, maybe Hades will get his wish, and you'll be the child of the prophecy after all."

He doesn't look pleased about that, but (Y/n) doesn't care.

Before she could change her mind, (Y/n) concentrates on the small of her back — a tiny point just opposite her navel, a point well defended when she wore her armor. It would be hard to hit by accident, and few enemies would aim for it on purpose. No place is perfect, but this seemed right to her, and a lot more dignified than, like, her armpit or something.

(Y/n) pictures a string, a bungee cord connecting her to the world from the small of her back. And (Y/n) and Percy step into the river.

"Hey," Piper's voice tears (Y/n) back to the present. She touches (Y/n)'s arm. "You still with me?"

"Yeah . . . I . . . Yeah, sorry," (Y/n) murmurs, and Piper meet's (Y/n)'s gaze for a moment.

(Y/n) is grateful for Piper. She needed a friend, and (Y/n) is glad she started losing the Aphrodite blessing. Her makeup is fading, and her hair is slowly going back to its old choppy style with the cute little braids down the sides. It made her look more real, and as far as (Y/n) is concerned, more beautiful.

She is sure now that they'd never known each other before the Grand Canyon. Their friendship was just a trick of the Mist in Piper's mind, but the longer (Y/n) spends with her, the more she wishes it had been real. That she had known Piper longer than a day and a half.

Stop that, she tells herself. It isn't fair to Piper, thinking that way.

At the end of the hallway, the demigods find themselves in front of a set of oaken doors carved with a map of the world. In each corner is a man's bearded face, blowing wind. (Y/n) is pretty sure she'd seen maps like this before, but in this version, all the wind guys are Winter, blowing ice and snow from every corner of the world.

The princess turns. Her brown eyes glitter, and Jason feels like he is a Christmas present she is hoping to open. "This is the throne room," she says. "Be on your best behavior, Jason Grace. My father can be . . . chilly. I will translate for you, and try to encourage him to hear you out. I do hope he spares you. We could have such fun."

Jason guesses this girl's definition of fun was not the same as his. "Um, okay," he manages. "But really, we're just here for a little talk. We'll be leaving right afterward."

The princess smiles. "I love heroes. So blissfully ignorant."

Piper rests her hand on her dagger. "Well, how about you enlighten us? You say you're going to translate for us, and we don't even know who you are. What's your name?"

The girl sniffs with distaste. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me. Even in the ancient times the Greeks did not know me well. Their island homes were too warm, too far from my domain. I am Khione, daughter of Boreas, goddess of snow."

She stirs the air with her finger, and a miniature blizzard swirls around her – big, fluffy flakes as soft as cotton.

"Now come," Khione says. The oaken door blows open, and cold blue light spills out of the room. "Hopefully you will survive your little talk."

Mist hangs in the air. (Y/n) shivers, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and she clutches her pen in her pocket. Along the walls, purple tapestries show scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light — the aurora borealis — pulses along the ceiling. A layer of snow covers the floor, so (Y/n) has to step carefully. All around the room stand life-size ice sculpture warriors — some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage — all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded.

At least Jason thought they were sculptures. Then he tries to step between two Greek spearmen, and they move with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they cross their javelins to block Jason's path.

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rings out in a language that sounds like French. The room is so long and misty, Jason can't see the other end; but whatever the man says, the ice guards uncross their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione says. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"Super," Jason replies.

Zethes prods him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior."

"Please don't call me that."

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warns, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast. Later, perhaps, I can lend her something from my wide assortment of hair products."

"Thanks," Piper grumbles.

They keep walking, and the mist parts to reveal a man on an ice throne. He is sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seems woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard are encrusted with icicles, so (Y/n) can't tell if his hair is gray or just white with frost. His arched eyebrows make him look angry, but his eyes twinkle more warmly than his daughter's — as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. (Y/n) hoped so.

"Bienvenu," the king says. "Je suis Boreas Le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione the snow goddess is about to speak, but Piper steps forward and curtsied. "Votre Majesté," she says. "Je suis Piper McLean. Et voici Jason, fils de Zeus. Et (Y/n) Jackson, fille de Poséidon."

The king smiles with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" (Y/n) asks.

Piper frowns. "No. Why?"

"You just spoke French."

Piper blinks. "I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté."

The king laughs and claps his hands, obviously delighted. He says a few more sentences then sweeps his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away.

Khione looks miffed. "The king says –"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupts, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now.

Behind them, Zethes snorts, and Khione shoots him a murderous look. She bows stiffly to her father and takes a step back.

The king sizes up Jason, and Jason decides it would be a good idea to bow. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, urn, not killing us. May I ask . . . why does a Greek god speak French?"

Piper has another exchange with the king. "He speaks the language of his host country," Piper translates. "He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French."

The king says something else, and Piper turns pale. "The king says . . ." She falters. "He says —"

"Oh, allow me," Khione says, smirking. "My father says he has orders to kill you. Did I not mention that earlier?"

(Y/n) tenses. The king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news."Kill us?" (Y/n) asks. "Why?"

"Because," the king says, in heavily accented English, "my lord Aeolus has commanded it."

Boreas rises. He steps down from his throne and furls his wings against his back. As he approaches, Khione and Zethes bow. Jason, (Y/n), and Piper follow their example.

"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas says, "as Piper McLean has honored me in mine. Toujours, I have had a fondness for the children of Aphrodite. As for you, Jason Grace, my master Aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of Lord Zeus . . . without first hearing you out." Boreas then sizes up (Y/n). "As for you, Jackson. I'm sure your upstart father wouldn't mind. He has replacements."

Piper watches (Y/n)'s jaw tense, and (Y/n) pulls a hand from her pocket, still clutching her pen. If she was forced to fight, Piper doesn't like her friend's chances. Two seconds at least to summon her blade. Then she'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors.

"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asks quickly, taking Boreas's attention off of (Y/n). "Why would he want us dead?"

"You are demigods," Boreas replies, as if this explained everything. "Aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer . . ."

Boreas waves his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV appears in the air. Images of a battle flicker across the surface — a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures — the gods, Jason guesses — swarm around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupts in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sinks beneath the waves and disappears.

"The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explains. "The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits — wild winds that answered to no one. It was Aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods — they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again —"

"And his death released another wave of venti," Jason guesses. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."

"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed.

"But, Your Majesty," Piper says, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"

The king shrugs. "Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces."

There is an uncomfortable silence.

"That sounds . . . extreme," Jason ventures. "But you're not going to crush our faces yet, right? You're going to listen to us first, 'cause once you hear about our quest —''

"Nfes, yes," the king agrees. "You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might — how did he put it? — make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgment as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you."

Jason feels like he can almost breathe again. "Great. Thanks."

"Do not thank me." Boreas smiles. "There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see." He gestures to the various ice statues.

Piper makes a strangled noise. "You mean – they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"

"An interesting question," Boreas concedes, as if it had never occurred to him before. "They do not move unless they are obeying my orders. The rest of the time, They are merely frozen. Unless they were to melt, I suppose, which would be very messy.

Khione steps behind (Y/n), and places her cold fingers on her neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she murmurs in (Y/n)'s ear. "Join our court. Perhaps I'll let your friends go."

"What?" Zethes breaks in. "If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girl. Khione always gets more presents!"

"Now, children," Boreas says sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved too fast. We have not even heard the demigod's story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us."

Jason feels his brain shutting down. He doesn't look at (Y/n) or Piper for fear he'd completely lose it. He'd gotten them into this, and now they are going to die — or worse, they'd be amusements for Boreas's children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn.

Khione purrs, padding over to Jason, and stroking his neck. Jason doesn't plan it, but electricity sparks along his skin. There is loud pop, and Khione flies backward, skidding across the floor.

Zethes laughs. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now."

For a moment, Khione is too stunned to react. Then the air around her begins to swirl with a micro-blizzard. "You dare —"

"Stop," Jason orders, with as much force as he can muster. "You're not going to kill us. And you're not going to keep us. We're on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you're going to let us go." He sounds a lot more confident than he feels, but it gets their attention. Khione's blizzard swirls to a stop. Zethes lowers his sword. They both look uncertainty at their father.

"Hmm," Boreas says. His eyes twinkle, but Jason can't tell if it is with anger or amusement. "A son of Zeus, favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story."

Jason would've botched it right there. He hadn't been expecting to get the chance to talk, and now that he could, his voice abandoned him.

Piper saves him. "Your Majesty." She curtsies again with incredible poise, considering her life is on the line. She tell Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy, much better and faster than Jason could have.

"All we ask for is guidance," Piper concludes. "These storm spirits attacked us, and they're working for some evil mistress. If we find them, maybe we can find Hera."

The king strokes the icicles in his beard. Out the windows, night had fallen, and the only light comes from the aurora borealis overhead, washing everything in red and blue.

"I know of these storm spirits," Boreas says. "I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" (Y/n) questions. "He's alive?"

Boreas waves aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds . . . It would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Hera's in trouble," Jason says. "In three days she's going to be — I don't know — consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise."

"Yes," Boreas agrees. He shoots Khione an angry look. "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should. The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos – your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titans were defeated." The king glances at (Y/n) and Piper and Jason look at the daughter of Poesidon. "But just as it was before, so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits — these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades . . . Olympus has good reason to fear."

Jason isn't sure what all this means, but he doesn't like the way Khione is smiling — like this is her definition of fun.

"So you'll help us?" Jason asks the king.

Boreas scowls. "I did not say that."

"Please, Your Majesty," Piper says. Everyone's eyes turn towards her. She had to be scared out of her mind, but she looks beautiful and confident — and it has nothing to do with the blessing of Aphrodite. She looks like herself again, in day-old traveling clothes with choppy hair and no makeup. But she almost glows with warmth in that cold throne room. "If you tell us where the storm spirits are, we can capture them and bring them to Aeolus. You'd look good in front of your boss. Aeolus might pardon us and the other demigods. We could even rescue Gleeson Hedge. Everyone wins."

"She's pretty," Zethes mumbles. "I mean, she's right."

"Father, don't listen to her," Khione says. "She's a child of Aphrodite. She dares to charmspeak a god? Freeze her now!"

Boreas considers this. Jason slips his hand in his pocket and gets ready to bring out the gold coin. If things go wrong, he'd have to move fast.

The movement catches Boreas's eye. "What is that on your forearm, demigod?"

Jason hadn't realized his coat sleeve had gotten pushed up, revealing the edge of his tattoo. Reluctantly, he shows Boreas his marks.

The god's eyes widen. Khione actually hisses and steps away.

Then Boreas does something unexpected. He laughs so loudly, an icicle cracks from the ceiling and crashes next to his throne. The god's form begins to flicker. His beard disappears. He grows taller and thinner, and his clothes change into a Roman toga, lined with purple. His head is crowned with a frosty laurel wreath, and a gladius — a Roman sword like Jason's — hangs at his side.

"Aquilon," Jason says, though he doesn't know where he gets the god's Roman name from.

The god inclines his head. "You recognize me better in this form, yes. And yet you said you come from Camp Half-Blood?"

Jason shifts his feet. "Uh . . . yes, Your Majesty."

"And Hera sent you there . . ." The winter god's eyes are full of mirth. "I understand now. Oh, she plays a dangerous game. Bold, but dangerous! No wonder Olympus is closed. They must be trembling at the gamble she has taken."

"Jason," Piper says nervously, "why did Boreas change shape? The toga, the wreath. What's going on?"

"It's his Roman form," Jason replies. "But what's going on — I don't know."

The god laughs. "No, I'm sure you don't. This should be very interesting to watch."

"Does that mean you'll let us go?" Piper asks.

"My dear," Boreas says, "there is no reason for me to kill you. If Hera's plan fails, which I think it will, you will tear each other apart. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again."

Jason feels as if Khione's cold fingers are on his neck again, but it isn't her — it's just the feeling that Boreas is right. That sense of wrongness which had bothered Jason since he got to Camp Half-Blood, and Chiron's comment about his arrival being disastrous — Boreas knew what they meant.

"I don't suppose you could explain?" Jason asks.

"Oh, perish the thought! It is not for me to interfere in Hera's plan. No wonder she took your memory." Boreas chuckles, apparently still having a great time imagining demigods tearing each other apart. "You know, I have a reputation as a helpful wind god. Unlike my brethren, I've been known to fall in love with mortals. Why, my sons Zethes and Calais started as demigods —"

"Which explains why they are idiots," Khione growls.

"Stop it!" Zethes snaps back. "Just because you were born a full goddess —"

"Both of you, freeze," Boreas orders. Apparently, that word carries a lot of weight in the household, because the two siblings go absolutely still. "Now, as I was saying, I have a good reputation, but it is rare that Boreas plays an important role in the affairs of gods. I sit here in my palace, at the edge of civilization, and so rarely have amusements. Why, even that fool Notus, the South Wind, gets spring break in Cancun. What do I get? A winter festival with naked Quebecois rolling around in the snow!"

"I like the winter festival," Zethes mutters.

"My point," Boreas snaps, "is that I now have a chance to be the center. Oh, yes, I will let you go on this quest. You will find your storm spirits in the windy city, of course. Chicago —"

"Father!" Khione protests.

Boreas ignores his daughter. "If you can capture the winds, you may be able to gain safe entrance to the court of Aeolus. If by some miracle you succeed, be sure to tell him you captured the winds on my orders."

"Okay, sure," Jason says. "So Chicago is where we'll find this lady who's controlling the winds? She's the one who's trapped Hera?"

"Ah." Boreas grins. "Those are two different questions, son of Jupiter."

Jupiter, Jason notices. Before, he called me son of Zeus.

"The one who controls the winds," Boreas continues, "yes, you will find her in Chicago. But she is only a servant — a servant who is very likely to destroy you. If you succeed against her and take the winds, then you may go to Aeolus. Only he has knowledge of all the winds on the earth. All secrets come to his fortress eventually. If anyone can tell you where Hera is imprisoned, it is Aeolus. As for who you will meet when you finally find Hera's cage — truly, if I told you that, you would beg me to freeze you."

"Father," Khione protests, "you can't simply let them —"

"I can do what I like," he says, his voice hardening. "I am still master here, am I not?"

The way Boreas glares at his daughter, it was obvious they had some ongoing argument.

Khione's eyes flash with anger, but she clenches her teeth. "As you wish, Father."

"Now go, demigods," Boreas says, "before I change my mind. Zethes, escort them out safely."

They all bow, and the god of the North Wind dissolves into mist.

. . .

Back in the entry hall, Cal and Leo are waiting for them. Leo looks cold but unharmed. He'd even gotten cleaned up, and his clothes look newly washed, like he'd used the hotel's valet service. Festus the Dragon is back in normal form, snorting fire over his scales to keep himself defrosted.

As Khione led them down the stairs, (Y/n) notices that Leo's eyes follow the ice princess. Leo started combing his hair back with his hands. Uh-oh, (Y/n) thinks. She makes a mental note to warn Leo about the snow goddess later. She was not someone to get a crush on.

At the bottom step, Khione turns to Piper. "You have fooled my father, girl. But you have not fooled me. We are not done. And you, (Y/n) Jackson, I will see you as a statue in the throne room soon enough."

"Boreas is right," (Y/n) says. "You're a spoiled kid. See you around, ice princess."

Khione's eyes flare pure white. For once, she seems at a loss for words. She storms back up the stairs — literally. Hallway up, she turns into a blizzard and disappears.

"Be careful," Zethes warns. "She never forgets an insult."

Cal grunts in agreement. "Bad sister."

"She's the goddess of snow," Jason says. "What's she going to do, throw snowballs at us?" But as he says it, Jason has a feeling Khione could do a whole lot worse.

Leo looks devastated. "What happened up there? You made her mad? Is she mad at me too? Guys, that was my prom date!"

"We'll explain later," Piper promises, but when she glances at Jason, he realizes she expected him to explain.

What had happened up there? Jason isn't sure. Boreas had turned into Aquilon, his Roman form, as if Jason's presence caused him to go schizophrenic.

The idea that Jason had been sent to Camp Half-Blood seemed to amuse the god, but Boreas/Aquilon hadn't let them go out of kindness. Cruel excitement had danced in his eyes, as if he'd just placed a bet on a dogfight.

You will tear each other apart, the king had said with delight. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again.

Jason looks away from Piper, trying not to show how unnerved he is. "Yeah," he agrees, "we'll explain later."

"Be careful, pretty girl," Zethes says. "The winds between here and Chicago are bad-tempered. Many other evil things are stirring. I am sorry you will not be staying. You would make a lovely ice statue, in which I could check my reflection."

"Thanks," Piper says. "But I'd sooner play hockey with Cal."

"Hockey?" Cal's eyes light up.

"Joking," Piper says quickly. "And the storm winds aren't our worst problem, are they?"

"Oh, no," Zethes agrees. "Something else. Something worse."

"Worse," Cal echoes.

"Can you tell me?" Piper gives them a smile.

This time, the charm doesn't work. The purple-winged Boreads shake their heads in unison. The hangar doors open onto a freezing starry night, and Festus the Dragon stomps his feet, anxious to fly.

"Ask Aeolus what is worse," Zethes says darkly. "He knows. Good luck."

He almost sounds like he cares what happened to them, even though a few minutes ago he'd wanted to make Piper into an ice sculpture.

Cal pats Leo on the shoulder. "Don't get destroyed," he says, which was probably the longest sentence he'd ever attempted. "Next time—hockey. Pizza."

"Come on, guys." Jason stares out at the dark. He is anxious to get out of that cold penthouse, but he has a feeling it was the most hospitable place they'd see for a while. "Let's go to Chicago and try not to get destroyed."

. . .

Piper doesn't relax until the glow of Quebec City fades behind them.

"You were amazing," (Y/n) tells her.

The compliment should've made Piper's day, but all she can think about is the trouble ahead. Evil things are stirring, Zethes had warned them. She knew that firsthand. The closer they get to the solstice, the less time Piper had to make her decision.

She tells (Y/n) in French: "If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't think I was so amazing."

"What'd you say?" (Y/n) asks.

"I said I only talked to Boreas. It wasn't so amazing." Piper doesn't turn to look at her, but she can imagine the daughter of Poseidon smiling.

"Hey," she says. "You saved me from joining Khione's subzero hero collection. I owe you one."

That's definitely the easy part, Piper thinks. There was no way Piper would've let that witch keep (Y/n), and then she takes a moment to wonder where the strong feelings had come from. The night before, she'd been worried about her relationship with Jason, but now she was protecting (Y/n).

Piper is lost in her thoughts, and she starts when Jason passes her back a sandwich – from Leo. The son of Hephaestus had been quiet ever since they'd told him what had happened in the throne room. "I still can't believe Khione," he says. "She looked so nice."

"Trust me, man," (Y/n) says. "Snow may be pretty, but up close, it's cold and nasty. We'll find you a better prom date."

Piper smiles, but Leo doesn't look pleased. He hadn't said much about his time in the palace, or why the Boreads had singled him out for smelling like fire. Piper gets the feeling he's hiding something. Whatever it is, his mood seemed to be affecting Festus, who grumbles and steams as he tries to keep himself warm in the cold Canadian air. Happy the Dragon was not so happy.

They eat their sandwiches as they fly. Piper has no idea how Leo had stocked up on supplies, but he'd even remembered to bring veggie rations for her. The cheese and avocado sandwich was awesome.

Nobody talks. Whatever they might find in Chicago, they all know Boreas had only let them go because he figured they were already on a suicide mission.

The moon rises and the stars turn overhead. Piper's eyes start to feel heavy. The encounter with Boreas and his children had scared her more than she wanted to admit. Now that she has a full stomach, her adrenaline is fading.

Suck it up, cupcake! Coach Hedge would've yelled at her. Don't be a wimp!

Piper had been thinking about the coach ever since Boreas had mentioned that he was still alive. She'd never liked Hedge, but he'd leaped off a cliff to save Leo, and he'd sacrificed himself to protect them on the skywalk. She now realizes that all the times at school the coach had pushed her, yelled at her to run faster or do more push-ups, or even when he'd turned his back and let her fight her own battles with the mean girls, the old goat man had been trying to help her in his own irritating way – trying to prepare he for life as a demigod.

On the skywalk, Dylan the storm spirit had said something about the coach, too: how he'd been retired to Wilderness School because he was getting too old, like it was some sort of punishment. Piper wonders what that was about, and if it explained why the coach was always so grumpy. Whatever the truth, now that Piper knows Hedge was alive, she has a strong compulsion to save him.

Don't get ahead of yourself, she chides. You've got bigger problems. This trip won't have a happy ending. She's a traitor, just like Silena Beauregard. It was only a matter of time before her friends found out.

She looks up at the stars and thinks about a night long ago when she and her dad had camped out in front of Grandpa Tom's house. Grandpa Tom had died years before, but Dad had kept his house in Oklahoma because it was where he grew up.

Piper blinks, shaking herself out of the memory. She realizes she'd been falling asleep on the dragon's back. How could Dad pretend to be so many things he isn't? Trying to do that now was tearing Piper apart.

Maybe she could pretend for a little while longer. She could dream of a way of finding a way to save her father without betraying her friends — even if right now a happy ending seems about as likely as magic hedgehogs.

Piper sleepily leans back against (Y/n)'s chest. The daughter of Poseidon doesn't object, and Piper closes her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

. . .

Piper tumbles through the sky. Far below, she sees city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away, the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth like a wired lightbulb.

A body shoots past her — Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. "Not coooooool!"

She tries to call out him, but he is already too far below.

Somewhere above her, Jason yells, "Piper, level out! Extend your arms and legs!"

It was hard to control her fear, but she does what he said and regains some balance. She falls spread-eagle like a skydiver, the wind underneath her like a solid block of ice. Then Jason is there, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"We have to get (Y/n) and Leo!" she shouts.

Their fall slows as Jason controls the winds, but they still lurch up and down like the winds didn't want to cooperate.

"Gonna get rough," Jason warns. "Hold on!"

And then, thump! They slam into another warm body – Leo, still wriggling and cursing.

"Stop fighting!" Jason says. "It's me!"

"My dragon!" Leo yells. "You gotta save Festus!

Jason's already struggling to keep the three of them aloft, and Piper knows there is no way he could help a fifty-ton metal dragon.

There is a splash below them in the nearby lake, and then there's an explosion. A fireball rolls into the sky from behind a warehouse complex.

Jason's face reddens with strain as he tries to maintain an air cushion beneath them, all the while looking for (Y/n) below them. Rather than free-falling, intermittent slow-downs are the best that Jason can manage. It feels to Piper as though they were bouncing down a giant staircase, a hundred feet at a time.

As they wobble and zigzag, Piper can make out details of the factory complex below – warehouses, smokestacks, barbed wire fences, parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles, and a lake. They are still high enough so that hitting the ground would flatten them into roadkill – or skykill – when Jason groans, "I can't –"

And they drop like stones.

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crash through into darkness.

Unfortunately, Piper tries to land on her feet. Her feet didn't like that. Pain flares in her left ankle as she crumples against a cold metal surface.

For a few seconds, she isn't conscious of anything but pain – pain so bad that her ears ring and her vision goes red.

Then she hears Jason's voice somewhere below, echoing through the building. "Piper! (Y/n)!"

"Ow, bro!" Leo groans. "That's my back! I'm not a sofa! Piper, where'd you go? (Y/n)?"

"Here," Piper manages, and she realizes she can't hear (Y/n)'s response. She hears shuffling and grunting, and then feet pounding on metal stairs. 

Word Count: 6876 words

​​Taglist: @camaddison​ ​​@steinfellds ​​@p-taryn-dactyl​ ​​@oculusalien​ ​​@pink-widows​ @unlikelysublimekryptonite @decadentrebelkitten @eevil-empress @anteroz​ @mag-mfm @26randomness @cair-paravel-narniaia​ @hayhaythegaygay

#piper mclean x female reader #piper mclean x fem reader #lesbian piper mclean #piper mclean x reader #lesbian piper #percy jackson x sister reader

[ramblingandwritings]

V NSFT alphabet

Sometimes your brain fucks around and you end up liking a guy who looks like he has a couple Type O Negative cds kicking around somewhere

18+ for filth

A = Aftercare

V just wants to rest for a bit with you, and enjoy the closeness and affection you so kindly give him. He keeps his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck

B = Body Part

He's not incredibly picky but he does love a good pair of legs and they're even better wrapped around his waist

C = Cum

V has a thing for facials. He'll swipe his thumb across your covered face and press it between your lips to let you taste him. He praises you for allowing him the pleasure

D = Dirty Secret

V wants to be tied to the bed as used however you want. He knows he'd likely be unable to move in the morning but it'd be worth the pain

E = Experience

Unless you count Vergil's experiences then V has exactly zero

F = Favourite Positions

Watching you bounce on his cock is the closest he'll ever get to seeing something truly divine in his life. Close second is laying side by side in bed in the morning while still half asleep

 

G = Goofy

He doesn't take sex anywhere nearly as serious as Vergil does. V isn't above making a dry joke here and there or laughing, he knows just how short life can be so he's gonna enjoy it this time around

H = Hair

His body is completely hairless naturally which is kinda strange

I = Intimacy

He was too afraid to be close to anyone while he was Vergil. He desperately wanted love, affection and closeness but couldn't let himself have it. V isn't making that mistake twice

He'll gladly hold hands and say sweet nothings or keep his forehead pressed to yours while buried inside of you. Sex with him is intimate and vulnerable no matter how kinky it gets

J = Jack-Off

He much prefers your hands stroking him to his own and typically he'd rather wait to be with you. If he's away demon hunting for too long then he will take matters into his own hands literally. If he's feeling wild then he'll actually call you while he's masturbating, he doesn't hide what he's doing from you at all

K = Kink

Bondage, domination, submission, facials, one giant praise kink and body painting. If you let him then he'll spend hours recreating Blake's art on you

L = Location

As long as you have some privacy then he's fine. He doesn't like having sex in the shop after the time everyone overheard what the two of you were getting up to

M = Motivation

The easiest way to get him hard is to straddle his lap while he's reading. If he wants to toy with you, he'll keep his eyes on his book and make you work for his attention

N = No

Not really into pain play, giving or receiving. Some forms of pain remind him of being a servant of Mundus and he could go without being reminded of that constantly

O = Oral

He has no preference for giving or receiving they're both bliss. V knows exactly how to use his mouth to his advantage and he's perfectly fine spending some time on his knees

P = Pace

He wants to enjoy it and take his time, anything else almost feels like a waste. There's no rush, neither of you are going anywhere

Q = Quickie

Not his thing

R = Risk

As long as it doesn't hurt or put either of you into a possibly really embarrassing situation then he's willing to hear you out if you're curious about trying something new

S = Stamina

The trick of being chronically ill is having good days and bad days. On a good day, he's actually capable of going multiple rounds. If he feels like death warmed up then he might only feel up to light petting if that

T = Toy

All for them. He's not going to feel emasculated by a toy, that's just insane. Using toys on him is more than welcome too, clear fleshlights are the most fun to him

U = Unfair

V is all about teasing throughout the day. Light touches when no one is looking, quiet promises of what he'll do to you later and whispered threats of punishment if you can't behave yourself

He's not above making you beg to cum if he wants to hear it

V = Volume

Shamefully loud on accident. V tries to muffle himself but his moans and gasps can be heard faintly the next room over

W = Wild Card

Mark him down as wax play curious. Trish casually mentioned massage candles in a conversation with Nico and Lady and his interest was piqued

X = X-Ray

Perfectly average when soft and uncut clocking in at 5 inches. He's a grower though having more slightly more length than girth. If you're curious, his tattoos end just above the base of his dick

Y = Yearning

Mid-high but it ultimately depends on the day

Z = ZZZ

He's awake long enough to enjoy the afterglow and closeness for a few minutes. If you don't have anywhere to go afterwards then he's content to sleep for a bit

#Devil May Cry x reader #V x reader #DMC V x reader #V #NSFT

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

lifetimes of scars both visible and not

(au, not canon, this is all related to my unreasonably extensive timeline)

(they're married)

(she/her for flash)

i definitely made some of the text too small 😂 new tablet has given me too much power (pressure sensitivity)

closeups:

crow's feet :3c i wrote "1987 – 2005" but really it's probably more like "1990 – 2005" but birth year was easier than trying to decide exactly what year harrison started to be a piece of shit 🤷and also really his abuse did continue intermittently even after flash moved out in 2005 but not consistently since flash wasn't around him very much after that (but like, there's the incident in 2006... and some later incidents in 2013 ish) — that's what the ptsd is referring to also though by this age i think she's mostly fine... small things can still get to her of course but by 50 she's very well-adjusted and much, much happier than she was 30 years ago.

and of course... recovered/recovering alcoholic... that's kind of a lifelong thing of course

carpal tunnel is just from using a wheelchair for 30+ years

also not a wound or a scar but flash will have been on hrt for like............................ 20 years at age 50??? i think? so... boobies 😂

the three rings on her left ring finger are engagement, wedding band and an anniversary ring peter gets her for their 10th (wedding) anniversary (they'll already have been dating for like 5 years when they get married though) — she's also wearing peter's wedding band on her right ring finger on account of his arthritis causing him problems + often already not wearing it because of spidey, but you can't see her right hand in this pic and i decided not to label it since it's not exactly a scar or lasting injury

peter gets a soul patch in his late 40s because it's a law of the universe that if he's middle aged he needs to have questionable facial hair and i didn't feel like trying to draw the full goatee when i designed their older looks and i still don't (also because he looks too much like dr strange when he has the goatee AND the white streak tbh lmfao)

if peter lived into his 50s you know he'd be going fully silver w/in a couple of years already — the stress 😂 it's making him a silver fox... well. it's given him a skunk stripe at least (cause i always think it's cute when he gets a white streak when middle aged in comics)

he's got that fuzzy neck and fangs too from man-spider (even w/ the missing front teeth XD) (normally he wears partial dentures but i figured he probably doesn't sleep in them) — missing teeth, broken clavicle and one of the times he had his right scapula broken are all from the same incident which happens in 2032 and which i haven't written yet but may or may not involve a Kraven of some kind... (the first time he had the same scapula broken was by the jackal which i ALSO have not written yet... but is 2012)

busted-ass nose from when he fought doc ock around high school graduation and insisted he didn't need it looked at

ptsd is from the jackal as well, as mentioned not written yet.

also peter is 4 months younger than flash, thus 49.9 😂😂😂 it's ALMOST his birthday here okay, he's basically 50,

obviously flash has some of her own scars... maybe not quite as many as peter but losing both your legs probably counts for a few XD

and i decided to draw her a little bit fuzzy cause she's 50 here and she doesn't shave (her body) all the time anymore but... you can barely see it anyway since the hairs are red XD

trying to decide flash's level of muscle as a 50 year old woman is also difficult and i am still not sure how much tummy to give her... i probably could have given her more, though i guess she and peter still have a lot of sex....... either way i know she still has those guns even with carpal tunnel in both wrists lol

similar dilemma with peter but peter has the wrinkle of needing to eat over 5000 calories a day just to not lose weight so i think he's more likely to remain very svelte on top of refusing to like, retire from spider-man... bro take a break you already have arthritis and nerve damage which i forgot to label,

(the nerve damage is from the burn scar though) (it was real bad) (i haven't written that one yet but it's in 2009. nothing complicated, he just runs into a burning building to save people while wearing a polyester costume is all—not Trauma, just Stupidity) (...i mean, medically speaking it's burn trauma, but)

compression glove for aforementioned arthritis. he has arthritis all over, like his shoulders and stuff, but his left wrist is the worst because of when fisk broke it and he set it himself at home so it never totally healed right, but is manageable until he hits his forties and it starts getting arthritic before any of the rest of his joints 🤷 actually iirc it probably starts twinging in his 30s... but by 49 it's his whole arm for sure... plus his right shoulder... probably most of his fingers... left knee not arthritis just the nerve damage... wouldn't be surprised if he gets a sore neck from all that spidey whiplash... probably tennis elbow too lbr... yeah, he really should retire lol

also you can see his weird ribcage divots from when the extra arms in man-spider fell off...

flash and peter both got the knuckle scars—peter normally wouldn't but in 2007 he is currently spending a lot of time busting his knuckles open (peter: um some people mangle their hands punching steel and concrete to cope,) so they don't get a chance to heal fully and he ends up with scars from it.

sexual assault survivor referring to both skip in 2000 (which is finally being mentioned more concretely but i have made allusions to before) as well as the jackal in 2012 (which i have not written yet but have a lot of notes for) (well, i have a lot of notes for all of this, really,) - those are also both the major sources of his PTSD, particularly the jackal, though he's got other traumas too like his abandonment issues (parents' death) and his uncle's death... he's just been through a lot in general. unlike flash he isn't like, mostly fine, either, and therapy didn't really work out for him, so he's on... meds lol though idk maybe by 50 he doesn't need them anymore..... when he was in his 20s and 30s for sure though... he is a man prone to flashbacks and nightmares... hyperfixation... and 2012 will be a very traumatic year for him if/when i write that fic...

anyway it's fine, he's fine,

here's a foot for all the foot fetishists out there

no scars there i just really hate drawing bare feet and think it turned out sort of okay

the red things are how they die btw. peter gets taken out by [insert organization here] (i'm still working out the details, idk if natl guard or shield or what... or WHY tbh lmao i just know it happens)

flash i'm actually still not 100% sure i will do though, she might die of a broken heart/lots of stress from the very public death of her husband of 23 years (partner for almost 30)/heart problems from limited mobility (exacerbated by the carpal tunnel) or...... she might live longer, idk yet... idk if i'll even ever write that part... who knows!!!

me like angst😂 it's happy too though!!! i mean sure tragic ending eventually but also they are together for nearly 30 years despite all odds and that's not tragic at all... they love each other... 🥺🥰

they just don't live very long

though for flash 50 feels like a longer time than she'd ever expected, like, this is a woman who never thought she'd even make it to 20, you know???? so 50 is a pretty big deal. regardless of if i have her live longer than peter or not, though, i don't think she's surprised when he dies... like, upset yes, but... there have been so many times she's worried he'd never come home so it's only a shock in that it's emotionally devastating, not surprising at all. a long time coming... RIP

tfw you're outlived by your clone with a compromised lifespan

anyway i got way more rambly than i meant to on this XD

oh update in july lmao: i realized i had forgotten about a scar peter will probably acquire in 2012 in my notes and only found it skimming thru my timeline recently to edit some stuff so i sketched this real quick:

though in my mind this sketch is of peter when he's still in his mid to late 20s... but the handprint is obviously a mark of kaine print (though I think i may have made it too small XD considering peter already has big ol hands and kaine is 4 inches taller than him) think of it as something like a grab while grappling during a fight, like wrestling or whatever—though i'm ngl i'm still working out some details but i think when peter is first kidnapped by warren, he may attack kaine, for reasons having to do with his aunt, though like i said i'm still working out some stuff so there isss a chance i scrap this scar anyway... we'll see if i ever make it that far (current fic is 2007 and this would be 2012 after all but i may end up time skipping at some point like i did with, for example, curse of the man-spider)

drawing peter on a towel was the only way i could think of to get his back bare at this point too. he really buttons up for a while there.

(has a separate post on my blog: https://hoardlikegoldenirises.tumblr.com/post/722440569862881280/a-scar-i-totally-forgot-about-in-my-notes-and-by)

#nadiart #fanadiart #peterflash #peter parker #flash thompson #trans flash #came in through the window last night

[sw1mmingfoolz]

花樣年華 : HYYH | Act Two Scene Four : Still Lonely

word count: 891

"Are you finally going to tell me why you brought me out here?" you begged Vernon for the upteenth time, glaring at him when he smirked in silence. "Pleeeease," He kept avoiding your eyes, sliding into the same booth you sat in last time and gesturing for you to join him. You took a seat next to him as opposed to opposite and he raised an eyebrow at the move.

"Actually that works quite well," he murmured, immediately gesturing for a waiter. He smiled brightly over at you when he ordered for you; not Hyungseo's order this time but your own. You wondered how he could have possibly known but when you felt the eyes of him and your waiter boring into your skull waiting for you to say something you realised you knew exactly what he liked too. He chuckled under his breath in triumph and gazed into your eyes, finally giving you the answers you'd been pleading for.

Or so you thought.

"Ask me," he said simply, facial expression giving you nothing better to work with. You blinked at him and furrowed your brow.

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me, yn," he pushed gently. Your tea pot arrived but you did not lift your eyes from his, frozen in your place. You sighed and ran your hands through your hair.

"Tell me honestly," you hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you poured your drink into delicately decorated china. "Are you cheating on me?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes, suddenly indignant.

"You're crazy!" he all but yelled, placing his coffee cup down with a clatter. You were silently thankful it was quite empty in there, as most people were at parties. "Who told you I was?"

"Nevermind who," you responded tonelessly, nose slightly scrunched and eyes focused on his face. He was looking everywhere but in your direction. "Do you or don't you?"

"No." Now it was your cup's turn to clink harshly against the garish red plastic top of the table.

"Don't lie," you said as you leaned closer. He leaned away subconsciously and you felt your heart sinking lower and lower. "Look at me. Look at me! I'm asking you, are you cheating on me?"

The silence that followed was mere seconds but it was heavy and stifling, pushing on your shoulders until you slumped.

"Yes," he said after a moment, to which you lightly slapped his face. Rage was coursing through you but this wasn't who you wanted to take it out on. You thought you were getting over it. You realised you had a habit of running away.

Vernon frowned at you, dark eyes scanning your face. "That's no reaction!" he spoke after another tense moment. "If he admits it outright, just let him have it!" You swallowed thickly and turned your gaze down.

"I didn't think he'd admit it so easily," you confessed quietly. "I didn't know how to react," you sipped your tea pensively.

"One more time?"

"Tell me the truth. Are you cheating on me?"

"You're crazy! Who told you that?"

"That's not important. Do you or don't you?"

"No."

"Don't lie, tell me! Look at me, are you cheating on me?"

"Yes,"

You were centimetres from his face, hovering slightly, unable to tear your eyes away for a moment. He went to speak but before he could find the words you moved away, swishing the half finished remains in your tea cup in circles idly.

"Are you alright?" he asked genuinely, breaking his act. Were your heart not currently in your shoes you'd compliment his Canadian accent; a very nice touch. You didn't look up, though you could feel his concern radiating from beside you.

"I didn't expect it to hurt so much," you mumbled in response. You'd done so well at hiding, you'd almost convinced yourself you were off scott free. Of course Mark knew why you'd abandoned the flat you decorated together, of course Hyungseo had taken your side of the bed, of course she knows why she was told to leave suddenly. After all she put up no fight. But they weren't going to make the moves. They could afford you one last act of pure stone cold cruelty. You had to cut it off. Mark texted you every few days to ask when you were coming back. You blocked his number, he used another. There was only so far you could run. His grip on you was something you never wanted to admit - you wanted to push past and never even think about him again. You wondered how someone who had claimed to love you could be so cold. Your tears finally began to fall, red hot streaks down your cheeks, held back for so long under the false pretence of moving on and leaving him behind. Vernon's whole body tensed momentarily as he tried to figure out what to do before you balled your fists into his sweatshirt and long hard gasping sobs wracked your curled up form, silent screams of agony and whispers of a future lost. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, Seungcheol giving a slight smirk at the irony from behind the counter, and buried his face in your hair as his own eyes brimmed with his own tidal wave of pain.

His tears wouldn't fall.

They couldn't.

You couldn't.

synopsis: when vernon and y/n realise their partners are cheating with each other, they strike up an unlikely friendship trying to figure out how it all began.

pairing: vernon x fem!reader

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taglist: @a-lil-bit-nuts @kikivonpoopyhead @woozarts @gold-dragon-slayer @h6ngs @imcoenffl @alamorticia @gaebestie @02psh @tress-leches @ru-lin @kuleo26

unable to tag: @hanzzzol

a/n: pov you read this and ITWYLTL and have noticed I like having short killing parts at the end of my writing 🥴 if the way this is going is slightly confusing feel free to message me about that but hopefully it makes sense where everything stands haha, as always feedback is appreciated, now onto the next scene! <3

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #vernon #seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #seventeen angst #svt smau #seventeen fluff #seventeen au #svt social media au #vernon angst #vernon chwe #seventeen vernon #svt vernon #hans chwe #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #vernon x you #svt fluff #svt angst #f: hyyh

[apompkwrites]

love in their own way || albedo, childe, xiao, zhongli

masterlist characters: albedo, childe, xiao, zhongli genre: fluff summary: in which their s/o's aren't as forward about their emotions, but still manage to have their little tells that express their love. notes: i hope this meets the request! i had a lot of fun writing this! i just want the boys to be happy :)

albedo -

i like to think albedo is secretly clingy but doesn't allow himself to show it to anyone.

naturally, it's just because he's always holed up with his work.

when he consciously does it... it's because he's nervous.

remember the end of his quest when he's talking to himself at dragonspine?

that's why he's nervous.

anyway!!

he's not too bothered by the fact that you're more reserved.

he has a lot of work so he can't really dwell on the idea for too long.

just you being there when he's working is good enough for him :D

as we all know, this boy is very into experimentation and learning.

so trying to decipher your minuscule facial changes is actually really interesting to him!

he has a bunch of notes just on the little details he can find about you.

and since he's so observant, it doesn't take him long to realize that there are certain signs that only appear around him.

he'll notice them when he's painting you.

whenever he's waiting for results, he'll use the time to draw you <3

because he's done this, he practically has you memorized.

so imagine his surprise when he sees your expression change whenever he leaves your sight.

it takes him a while to actually be able to see this, but i'm sure it's because of timaeus and sucrose.

after all, they're around you a lot whenever albedo is busy.

they probably take a picture to show him something they did while he was gone and that's when he notices.

he doesn't even have to look at a different picture of you.

he can just tell you look different.

the little crinkle next to your eyes was gone.

your lips were more pursed than usual.

you now had a crease in between your brows you didn't have before.

the next time he sees you, he'll hold up the picture next to your face to confirm they're different.

he wants to ask why there's a "clear" difference in your appearance but he already knows why.

he'll ask you just to be sure, though--

your cheeks get a tiny tiny bit darker when you answer wholeheartedly.

it does make him chuckle when he hears that you're so smitten for him in your monotonous voice.

the picture sucrose and timaeus took isn't his favorite of you, so he ends up taking a new one when you two are both exploring dragonspine.

it's a reminder of how much you really love him <3

childe -

out of the four boys here, he's definitely (in my opinion) the most affectionate.

like, this boy will take whatever he can get to just hold you for a second.

especially if you're also from snezhnaya but came all the way to liyue to keep him company.

he's very family-oriented as we've seen, so he treasures these relationships.

now, with an unaffectionate s/o?

honestly, i don't think he'd be too upset about it.

like i said, he really treasures these familial relationships.

because of this, it's his top priority to make sure you feel comfortable in the relationship.

he won't necessarily keep his distance, but he won't be too clingy either.

he'll stand right beside you, enough to where you can almost feel his skin touching yours.

as for your expressionlessness...

it'll take him a bit to really understand how you're feeling.

it's a lot of communication because he doesn't want to mess anything up.

near the beginning of the relationship, he'd ask how you're feeling and if there's anything bothering you.

but once he finally notices the subtle differences in your face, such as a slight eyebrow raise or a tilt of the head, he'll be able to read you easier.

nothing too complex, but just enough for him to tell your emotions.

there is one subtle change that he always looks for, however.

he's realized, with the help of zhongli of course, that there is a specific characteristic that only happens when he's in your line of sight.

your lips are normally pressed in a fine line.

however, around him, the corners lift up ever-so-slightly.

the only reason he's able to see it is that he'll catch himself staring at your lips because he wants a kiss :)

once he sees that, he starts noticing your little quirks whenever you're around him.

you'll lean closer to him as you're walking through liyue harbor.

your eyes start to soften as he talks on and on about his day (and complains about scaramouche--).

he loves the idea that all of these little details about you only happen around him,

it makes him feel... important.

and loved.

even if he holds back from touching you, he'll settle for seeing your cold exterior melt around him.

xiao -

he's not too well versed in affection...

i mean, he's the vigilant yaksha that is known for being stoic just like you are.

you two are basically carbon copies of each other.

no affection and no clear expressions of love.

people (who know both you and xiao) often forget that you two are actually together.

like, they just think you two sit in silence when you're both tired of dealing with people.

they... aren't necessarily wrong.

the two of you are often found sitting at the balcony looking over liyue.

sometimes you bring him almond tofu to share :)

it's very rare for the two of you to actively show your love for each other, mainly because you both know your feelings.

although... xiao does have those moments.

it's not like he's completely oblivious to the whispers about you two.

and on the days where his karma acts up, he gets insecure.

he's... really scared that one day you'll leave just like the others.

it doesn't matter if you're a mortal or an adeptus, he's scared that one day he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

and if that ever comes, he's scared you'll pass on either doubting your feelings or his.

it doesn't help when he notices the difference in your attitude and appearance when he's around.

his first instinct is that he's doing something bad.

either you're angry or upset at his mere existence...

verr goldet's the one who has to explain why you seem different.

she's quite observant on her own, especially because you're the first person that xiao actively enjoys being around.

she'll be the one to tell him that it isn't because you're mad at him.

you have minuscule changes because that's how xiao makes you feel.

you're so soft around him and she can tell just from the small interactions she's seen of you.

for example, when you're talking to the chef downstairs, you have the same expression that xiao has when he's talking to people.

you're annoyed but you know how to handle it.

but when you're around xiao, it's like everything that bothers you disappears.

it's like you're in your own domain whenever he's around.

nothing else matters except for him.

and even if she's relying on small observations and pure intuition, she can tell that the changes are good.

your eyes that seem to look anywhere besides the person you are talking to are completely different from the ones that seem to only focus on xiao.

your normally stiff body relaxes every time you summon xiao at the balcony.

the tiny smile that graces your lips when you disappear to the top of the inn for hours on end.

verr goldet's explanation calms his heart.

his worries seem to disappear and the next time he sees you...

this is the one thing his karma can't take away. he'll be sure of it.

zhongli -

zhongli is also another person who isn't well versed in relationships.

although he isn't as inexperienced as xiao, it'll take some time for him to figure it out.

he's not someone who craves affection like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

he definitely would appreciate it but he completely understands that it isn't something you tend to give.

so instead, he'll show his love in the smaller things.

such as telling you stories, sharing tea, going out on walks, etc.

he's another person who is very observant, especially in people close to him.

his storytelling friends often ask him about your relationship with one another.

they try to bring it to his attention that you may not be as interested as he thinks you are.

of course, he'll simply laugh them off and tell them that they should listen to the person who knows you best.

he'll turn those questions into a big story and explain how they're mistaken about you.

he's never actively told anyone this, save for hu tao who tries to bug him into telling her, but he'll tell them about all of the tiny details that tell him your feelings.

when you're feeling upset, you puff out your cheeks a small bit.

when you're angry, your glare hardens at whatever is making you mad.

when you're happy, your lips part slightly.

when you're in love... well, that's a detail he'll keep for himself.

he's quick to say goodbye to his peers, practically rushing back to your shared home.

he's greeted by you as soon as he opens the door.

your stoic expressions... would be exactly the same to anyone else.

but to him, it's like you've lit up like a small puppy seeing their human parents come home after years.

you don't run up to him, but you turn to look at him and away from the book on the table.

he'll greet you with a quiet nod, pulling out the chair and sitting next to you.

he'll take the book from you, taking in your appearance for a moment.

your shoulders relax by a hair and you move your chair an inch closer to his.

you don't lean your head on his shoulder but you lean towards him as if you were about to.

it's these moments that make everything worth it to zhongli.

here, in your home and in your life, he's simply zhongli.

the man you fell in love with and allowed your reserved self to open up to.

and he would trade anything just to have these moments with you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin albedo x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #genshin tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol). 

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.  

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn. 

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor. 

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.” 

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight. 

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number.  “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves. 

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation. 

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.  

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.” 

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss. 

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

 You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping. 

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee. 

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.” 

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.” 

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” 

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?” 

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you…  And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side. 

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional. 

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression. 

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

 A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

 “I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess. 

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent. 

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin. 

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.” 

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides. 

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue. 

“I think I may need a little…”  Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks. 

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback. 

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry. 

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.” 

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start. 

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips. 

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest. 

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment. 

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself. 

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants. 

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table. 

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud.  There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already. 

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh. 

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him. 

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee. 

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil. 

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers. 

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching. 

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins. 

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan. 

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk. 

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his. 

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.” 

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it. 

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this. 

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt. 

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning. 

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you. 

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something. 

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going. 

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you. 

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting. 

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know. 

He’s not stopping. Until he does. 

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin. 

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.” 

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact  you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth. 

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin. 

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound. 

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it. 

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt.  “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm. 

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat. 

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.” 

This. 

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire. 

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are. 

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.” 

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.  

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.” 

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip. 

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure. 

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you. 

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that. 

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that. 

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure. 

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence. 

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.” 

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding.  Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes. 

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core. 

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever. 

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit. 

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking. 

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes. 

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.  

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect. 

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it. 

 You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat. 

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it. 

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had. 

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?” 

-- 

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

[funtimebunnyblog]

Nobody really asked for this but uhhh... I kind of needed it 😶😇😂 Please excuse me for being self indulgent for this one time! ❤❤❤ But most of all, please enjoy! 😘

The Pillarmen (separate) with an s/o on their Period...

(Under the cut for length!)

(Warning! This contains content all surrounding a Woman's menstruation cycle and all the absolute joys that come with it 🙃 like: graphic descriptions of pain and blood, more blood and lots of blood. Viewer discretion advised! In other words, you have been warned...)

Kars:

• Chances are, Kars will always be long prepared for your periods monthly arrival.

• Even in the time when you were first getting to know each other, he picked up on your cycle patterns quickly.

• The first time you confided to him you were on your period he was prepared then too, pulling out a fresh pack of pads for you seemingly out of nowhere.

• The way you reacted, he'd swore he had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

• From then on he knows exactly when it will happen, he's done all the calculations and has the date marked on his desk calendar.

• When the day comes, he'll have a box of stuff already waiting for you by the bed; a hot waterbottle, some chocolate, pads/tampons, a bottle of Motrin, you name it.

• It's no surprise that even if you happen to be late or early he'll still be prepared; heck, he'll take one look at you and know.

• If you're cramping or feeling bloated and icky he knows some good teas to help you with that too.

• Kars is also prepared for the emotional and intensive side of things when you're undergoing your cycle.

☆

The door creaked open quietly, a tendril of light cutting through the dark as the wrapped head of Kars poked into the room, ruby eyes settling on the lumpy form quivering under the pile of blankets covering the bed.

He had heard you crying from the hallway one his way back to his Office.

The Pillarman's lips came together, however, he didn't hesitate for a moment as he stepped further into the room. "My dear," he spoke, approaching the bed. Your shaking form visibly tensed right up. It was obvious you hadn't even heard him come in. "Is your back giving you grief again?"

You had started just a day ago and of course things were carrying out as usual; cravings, back pain, nausea, all things he expected.

What he didn't expect was your answer, which was a wet sob, words muffled as the blankets moved; a shake of the head was his only coherent response.

He only frowned, the bed dipping with a low creak as he sat down on the very edge right at your back where you laid curled on on yourself under the covers.

"Your stomach then? You feel nauseous, is that it?" He pressed.

Another shake of the head, his sharp ears strained to hear the watery response from underneath the thick layer of blankets, leaving Kars with no choice but to finally peel away the barrier covers between you and him. Your very red and very wet face was finally revealed to him, your lips knotted and quivering as you sniffled.

Your state was only worrying him further, it was plainly obvious you had been crying for some time and on top of things, you weren't even looking at him.

There was an unmistakably guilty look to your watery expression.

"What is it then?" He asked, a huge hand plucking the stray hair from your soaked cheeks and eyes. "What's wrong? I need you to talk to me, dear."

His pressing only made the tears come much harder, his hands instinctively going to your back and rubbing softly.

"I'm sorry, Kars..." came the staccatic whimper.

He blinked twice, "For what?"

"I ruined the sheets!" You cried, hugging yourself tighter. "I... I laid down because--because my back was hurting again and I f-fell asleep and when I woke up it was just... all over the place!"

Your Husband listened to you quietly, suddenly coming to the realization that the bed had indeed been stripped of the sheets beneath the blankets; you were only laying (probably not very comfortably) on the thin white plastic mattress cover. His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room where the ruined fitted sheet and the thin matching over sheet had been simply balled up into a big lumpy wad and thrown there.

"You ruined your pants as well then," he hummed, remembering that you had been wearing a particular pair; your favourite fuzzy lounging pants with the stars on them.

A nod was his only response this time.

Kars let out a sigh, leaning down to lay his head on your shoulder. "Oh, my sunshine, it's alright. We have plenty of sheets, one ruined cover is nothing to me."

"I--"

"I know you didn't mean to." He cut you off, already knowing what you were going to say, his gentle ministrations unceasing. "It was an accident, I would not expect you to have control over something like this. These things happen. We can always get new sheets and buy you more pants and undergarments."

It relieved you to know he wasn't upset with you over this, or worse disgusted by the prospect of your mess, and you found yourself letting out a shakey breath you didn't know you had been holding.

The covers peeled away and you nearly yelped as you were suddenly hoisted into his arms, the Pillarman carrying you right out of the room without another word.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You squeaked, your confusion making the remainder of your tears ebb a little more.

"I'm taking you to get cleaned up." He answered without missing a beat. "No doubt you're probably still soiled, so you're going to take a nice hot shower. I'll leave you some fresh clothes and replace the sheets while you're in there and then we can crawl into bed and watch that program you like."

"I-- I thought you had work to do tonight." You said, watching him owl eyed as he set you down gently on the toilet and began to putter around the bathroom, pulling towels down from the cupboard and turning the shower on.

He hummed, "Oh, my work can wait until the morrow. My duties as your Mate come first, you know."

You felt a quivering smile tugging at your lips as he peered over his shoulder with a soft smile, cocking an eyebrow at you.

Kars was undoubtedly the only one in your life who could sweep up the shattered remains of a problem and fabricate it into something treasured.

He was the only one who made a this week out of every month truly bearable.

Esidisi:

• Growing up, Esidisi had been around the Women of his tribe and his Family a lot.

• He's definitely prepared for something like this and even upon first getting to know him, you could talk to him openly about it.

• These kinds of things don't faze him in the slightest; you're a Woman and as long as you're healthy there was no issue.

• Esidisi will almost always be able to tell whenever your monthly cycle is approaching, being an intuitive man and all.

• He knows your behaviors and habits and he can easily spot your telltale signs leading to your period, like: any erratic sleep patterns, a shift in your overall mood, your eating habits taking a sudden change, any ofd facial acne popping up, etc.

• He'll definitely be prepared for the day it does hit because he makes sure to go out and do all the necessary shopping prior.

• When your period does hit, it basically hits both of you.

• If you get emotional, he gets emotional; when you're in pain, he's in pain.

• Half of the ordeal might just consist of both of you crying and holding each other.

• The other half of it consists of him doing his very best to help you feel better and alleviate any discomfort you happen to feel.

• However... his methods in doing so are very unconventional.

☆

You did your very best to lay still as the calloused pad of a thumb swiped along bare skin, just under your navel, where you lay; leaving not only a trail of paint but a ticklish sensation that nearly made you giggle.

However, it was easy not to laugh while feeling nothing but waves of uncertainty and mild irritation rolling over you amidst all this.

The deep timber of Esidisi's voice thrumming out the tones of a mantra in some language you couldn't identify did little to comfort you as you laid there before him on the bed. You were dressed only in your underclothes and already painted with several other sigils along your body as he finished the one directly over your womb.

The room was dark, save for the light of two candles, one at each bedside table, allowing you to see him partially where he stood over you in the shadows.

His eyes, normally two sapphires glimmering, shined like rubies in the dark; animalistic and a reminder that he was something indeed inhuman.

You weren't really one to believe in rituals, especially not while you had some Motrin in a bottle downstairs that would fix up your prediciment just fine, but your Husband insisted on this instead.

You were starting to regret telling him you were still cramping with every sigil he drew and every stone and flower placed particularly around and over you.

"Esidisi," You whined. "Is this really necessary?"

The Pillarman's rythmic chanting fell to an abrupt halt at your words, his eyes fell on you incredulously.

"Of course this is necessary!" He cried. "You want the pain to stop, don't you?"

You grimaced, "Well, yes, but I just think this is..." teeth dug hard into your lower lip as your Mates brow came together, full lips twisting and arms folding over his chest as his gaze burned holes into you, awaiting the end to that sentence.

What could you possibly say that wouldn't hurt his feelings?

That is was a bunch of hoo-hah?

That he didn't know what he was doing or how a Women's body worked?

That the ancient medicine of his people that he was still using was something long outgrown in today's society?

That it most definitely wouldn't work and it was a waste of time?

"This is, what?" He pressed, chin raising as his foot began to tap quietly on the floor.

You could feel sweat sticking uncomfortably to your skin, or perhaps that was just you suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the feeling of the oil on your body he had slathered you with prior, as you fumbled to finish.

"Er... that is is... a little.... much?"

A bare brow cocked as he echoed you. "Much?"

"Well, I mean, you've painted at least 13 symbols on me now and you've smudged the air with so much sage my head hurts and the crystals and the flowers and... just the whole shebang here..." your hand went up to guesture to everything that was laid out, things both on you and on him.

His attire was something close to ridiculous in your eyes; he was even more naked than usual! Dressed in nothing but feathers covering his nether region and his usual hat, he stood before you covered in swirls of orange paint all along his body rather than just his cheeks.

"Isn't this just a little much?" You asked, unable to stop the frown from tugging on your lips.

Esidisi blinked owlishly, "Well, how else am I supposed to banish the evil spirits from your uterus and alleviate your pain?"

It had greatly surprised (and upset) him to find that the medicines and practices he was weaned on as a child had faded away into non-existence along with the name of his people.

Apart from Kars, who had taken to (ugh) more "modern" practices with those placebos and chemicals made in labratories, there didn't seem to be a soul out there who knew how to properly do these things!

Esidisi wasn't going to let you suffer or be harmed in any way shape or form, not when he knew how to stop it. He had learned early on how to cleanse the womb and heal it of any harmful curses or diseases that would happen to plague you. His Grandmother had been the one who had taught him and he had spent his youth putting them to much practice.

If you thought that this was much, you were definitely going to be in for a surprise for when you became pregnant one day; he planned to preform regular hour long sessions daily then.

You couldn't stop yourself from sighing, a hand reaching up to give a light slap to your cheek as you groaned.

You would just have to explain to him what really caused all the pain of menstruation. "Honey, there's no evil spirits--"

A finger pressed to your lips, stalling anymore words from falling from them. "Shh, beloved. You mustn't keep disrupting the ritual." The man chided softly, leaning down to press a dotting kiss to your brow as he swiped the final line of paint over it. "Now just lay there and let me handle this. Trust me, you'll feel better in no time."

Your lips turned downward as you watched him step back to fetch his singing bowl, sighing softly to yourself as you adjusted the bouquet of herbs and flowers that he had pushed into your hands.

It was hard to get comfortable when you could feel the mint leaves he had scattered in your hair scratching against your scalp and the orange peeling he had stuffed it on your bra was an entirely different matter all together.

You supposed that somehow it could've been worse and you had to be content that this was relatively harmless all in all.

At least the hollow ring of the singing bowl and the continuation of his mantra would put you to sleep while he carried out the rest of this ritual...

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu knew very little on the concept of Women and their monthly cycles; until you came along into his life that was.

• He knew how it worked of course and that it indeed happened but embarrassingly, he had sort of... forgotten about it in a way.

• Really, you supposed you couldn't blame him. This wasn't exactly something that was part of his everyday life, growing up with only 3 other Males the majority of it.

• The first time he happened to smell blood off you, it sent him into a panic and he immediately thought that you were hiding an injury from him; demanding to know where it was so he could treat it.

• Embarrassed, you tried to be discreet and prod him gently in the direction of what was happening. However, every code word for it just seemed to fly over his head; inevitably confusing him further.

• "It's high tide." "What? Beloved, we do not live by the ocean." "Er... the blood moon has risen?" "The blood moon isn't supposed to appear for another few months. And it is daytime, beloved." "Uhh... It's shark week?" "Why are you talking about a T.V. program at a time like this?"

• Finally, after a long, LONG session of going back and forth like that, you had no choice but to scream that you were on your period.

• Wamuu's beat red face and his impossibly huge eyes will be an image forever burned into your brain.

• After that, even though he wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, Wamuu did his best to at least be attentive to your needs.

• He does his best to understand your patterns and the entirety of what exactly you go through.

• He's always checking in on you every so often, sheepishly asking if you're feeling ok or if you need anything.

• Just say the word and He'll get you pads or food or water, perhaps even a distraction like a movie...

☆

The wet sounds of sniffling hitting his eardrums was what caused Wamuu to be roused from his deep and comfortable sleep, the Warrior blinking in the dark of the room and instinctively raising his head to locate the source.

"Beloved," He breathed, eyes falling onto your form. You were also awake, your back to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in on yourself. His lips fell into a frown as you continued to sniffle, now trying to stiffle the sound upon realizing that he too was awake now.

Wamuu slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, "what's wrong? Why are you awake?"

It was still the dead of night, just a little past 1AM, he couldn't think of a reason for you to be awake and crying other than the possibility of you having a nightmare.

" 's nothing..." you hiccuped, scrubbing your eye. "Go back to sleep."

His frown only deepened, scooting across the bed to get closer to you. "No. What is it? What has you so upset?" He pressed, an arm encircling around your quivering form. "Did you have a nightmare?"

A particularly harsh sob cut through you as you shook your head, burying your face in your hands as if trying to hide from him, "No! Go back to sleep!"

Chartreuse eyes softened considerably, the massive man only hugging you closer to his body as he chose to press further.

"If it's not a nightmare than what is it?"

"Oh, you'll laugh!" came the moan.

"I will not laugh." He replied, quite matter of factly.

"You'll--... You'll be angry!"

His brow knitted together sternly, one huge and warm hand wrapping around your much smaller one, uncaring of the fact it was wet with tears.

"I will not be angry. Please, just tell me why you are awake and crying, my love."

You fell silent, save for the staccato of your hiccupped breaths, Wamuu waited with all the patience in the world.

"I--" you paused, swallowing thickly. Your expression contorted in an almost painful manor, a hand slamming over your eyes as you only began to sob harder than before. "--I want... CHICKEN NUGGETS!"

The Pillarman blinked in surprise, that confession had completely taken him off guard. You were crying over food of all things? At 1 o'clock in the morning?

Realization washed over him, making him frown deeper for only a second as he suddenly remembered the fact that you had started your monthly menstrual cycle yesterday evening.

You must've woken up craving and hurting, of course those things would drive you to cry helplessly like so.

If anything, the Warrior was relieved it was nothing serious.

Wamuu smiled softly, only hugging you tighter to him. "Will chicken nuggets get you to stop crying?" He asked softly, carding his fingers gently through your awry bed-head hair.

You coughed, sniffling as your whimpered response rose up from your throat painfully. "Yeah,"

He nodded, "Alright. How many do you want and what kind?"

You sniffed a few times, managing to calm down enough to tell him what would suffice enough to satisfy your hankering. Wamuu pulled on a simple hoodie and some pants as you talked, he even asked you if you wanted to come with him but you declined, not really in the mood to go very far.

He put the Television on for you, turning it on to a program and kissed your head, telling you he'd be back with an order of nuggets, a drink you liked and perhaps something sweet to enjoy after.

You felt guilty for troubling him with something like this, it was even worse that it was at an ungodly hour in the morning but Wamuu didn't care about those things, what mattered to him was your comfort, your happiness and your needs met...

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana isn't very much educated on the subject of menstruation and your cycles when first getting to know you.

• However, he could tell immediately that something was happening to you even before your cycle started.

• He mentioned that you had a stronger smell to him, like your hormones were given a signifigant boost. He claimed he could also see that you looked a little softer somehow.

• After sitting him down (a little embarrassed) and explaining to him what was going to happen soon, the dots connected for him and he understood.

• You were his Mate afterall and he followed his natural instincts to care and provide for you.

• He doesn't really like letting you out of his sight when it does happen, preferring to keep you close to him and he'll help you out in any way you need.

• You have to be specific with him though. If you send him to the store telling him that you need tampons, he might just come back with the entire isle of boxes in tow.

• This whole thing is always a learning experience to him, even though he can't undergo the same thing he does his best to understand and at least be attentive.

☆

"Oh c'mon..." you groaned, practically begging now as you curled in on yourself on the bed. "Kick in already!"

You had taken that Motrin over 10 minutes ago and still nothing was happening, your back was still aching and your stomach was cramping.

It was impossible for you to move now, you had laid down and there was no way in Hell you were going to get up again until all the pain was gone.

However, you were very much regretting not having the foresight to grab your heating pad on the way here, at least with that it would make it bearable but alas, it was all the way downstairs.

You couldn't even get up without fear of fainting or worse; ruining your pants.

Another wave of nausea shot through your gut, curling up in an icky tendril to your throat straight from the pit of your hurting stomach. All you could do was try to breathe; breathe, ride out the pain, hope it would be over soon and try not to vomit because of it.

A litany of begging was now falling through your lips like a prayer, pleading for anyone or anything listening to make it stop. Tears were beading at the corners of your eyes threatening to fall as your spine felt like it was being twisted, rung out like one would a wet rag.

"Please, please, please stop." You grit, hands turning to fists. "Please, please make it stop."

Little did you know your pleas didn't go unheard.

Santana watched you from the doorway where you couldn't see him, peering in with a thoughtful frown and a tilt of his head. Each quiet moan and whimper made his hands instinctively grip the door tighter, fingers digging harshly into the wood.

You were having a hard time. You were in a lot of pain and he hated to see you as such.

With only a moments thought, the Pillarman knew what he had to do, taking off quickly down the stairs; his feet barely making a sound on the steps.

Your back was hurting, he could see it in the way you kept trying to roll onto it. You used a strange device to help, one that emanated heat with a click of a button. His eyes scanned the living room for the familiar blue fabric with the white chord.

He snatched it off the couch, tucking it under his arm as he went into the kitchen next, finding himself opening and closing cupboards and doors without really knowing what he was looking for this time.

You had already taken one of those pills and he was certain you said something before about having to wait a couple of hours before you took another so that was out of the question.

The bright colours of your waterbottle sitting all by itself on the kitchen counter caught his eye. He didn't know how long you would be up there resting so maybe it was best to put it by your bedside for when you needed it. He also grabbed a couple of snacks from the cupboard, simple wrapped treats you enjoyed here and there.

He put the bottle under the tap, making sure to only stop until it was filled right under the brim with cold water.

Water... hot water. The red-head blinked, humming softly to himself as the gears turned in his head.

Your stomach had been obviously giving you grief as well, it didn't go unnoticed by him that you were clutching it; trying to curl in on yourself. You had something you used to help that too, he had seen you fill it up a few times before.

Waterbottle and heating pad under arm and snacks clutched to his chest, he went back upstairs. He went right past your room and straight into the bathroom, prying open the closet and digging around for the strange rubbery sack he could clearly see in his memories.

He pulled it out triumphantly, the object limp in his grasp like a pelt as he turned on the tap. He waited until the water was hot enough to make steam rise up from the sink before plunging it under to fill and corking it.

His arms now completely full, he shuffled back to your room with the goods; pleased his little scavenger hunt was successful.

There you lay, right where he had left you; from the look of it you definitely hadn't improved.

You were so consumed with your own discomfort you didn't even hear him or see him.

Santana approached the bed quietly, setting the waterbottles (both hot and cold) down on the nighttable with the snacks before fumbling with the heating pad, plugging it into the wall.

The massive hand being laid on your side startled you somewhat, eyes popping open with a shudder before being greeted with the sight of your one and only Mate standing over you at the bedside with a frown.

"Roll over." Came the quiet command, his hand pushing you further onto your side and slipping something familiar underneath you before easing you onto your back again.

"Santana, wha--" was all you could manage out.

Santana clicked it onto the medium setting, reaching for the hot-waterbottle next and holding it up for you to see. He draped the wiggly rubber sack over your stomach, an audible "bloop!" sounding from inside as your arms instinctively curled around it with a sigh; already relishing in its warmth.

The bed dipped as he crawled in next to you, the Pillarmen kindly pulling the blankets up around you both as he curled into your side protectively.

You could feel the heat seeping slowly into your back, the pain starting to ebb somewhat and the heated weight over your stomach was soothing; it all left you near to deliriously blissful.

You realized belatedly that he had brought you all of these things without you even having to ask, you turned your head with a sleepy smile, meeting the gaze of the red-head. He was so sweet you swore at times your heart would melt.

A hand reached up to tangle in his mane of wild hair, "Thank you, honey..."

The Pillarman nuzzled into your neck, almost purring at the gentle touch. He had made you better and that was enough to leave him content for now.

"I will always take care of you, my Mate..." he murmured, smiling softly as you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep. It wasn't long after that he did the very same...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

This is gonna be a flashback chapter. How our babies met because I remember a few people had forgotten. Had to have one of these eventually, right?

Part 21: Introduction

Should I download Tinder?

Glee plays from the firestick, the scene where they're all walking and singing How Will I Know.

I should.

Laying cozied into the couch in a faded t'shirt with the tiniest pink shorts, your head rests on the butt cushion and your feet dangle over the arm as you hold your phone up in the air over your face.

"How will I know?.. How will I knoow..," you mumble along with the crew. You've heard the Glee version of this Whitney classic at least 8 times.

No, but what if I do and someone recognizes me? Someone I work with? What if my family is on Tinder? I'd die.

You put the phone down on your belly and pick up your apple juice from the coffee table, doing a sit up to sip.

Mm. You wipe your mouth nearly spilling. But if they're on there too then they shouldn't comment on what I'm doing, right? We'd ignore each other's presence and continue like ships passing in the night. So technically I should be able to download this app with no blowback.

Picking the phone up, you hit download and open the app. It immediately asks for your information and won't let you skip. Not even your location. You fall back down to your back raising the phone up again.

But what if someone's a serial killer?Would they look for me? No, that won't happen and I could tell if they were psychotic..

Tapping the download button, you go through the steps to set up an account including giving them access to your location and posting a headshot from a selfie. Scrolling through your gallery for more decent pics to post, you decide one's enough and upload a full body photo so that whoever meets you will know who they're meeting, no surprises.

Inputting your information, you decide to write into your blurb that you're looking for some awesome friends, specifically a movie buddy. In reality, the activity doesn't matter you just crave human attention and closeness. Any decent, polite, nice, smart, funny, left wing, hopefully attractive, young, black human.. possibly male.. will do. Not that you're picky. In the meantime, you swipe right on everyone black nearby, men and women. Somebody's gotta respond. Someone sane who wants to meet. Shockingly there are a lot of pretty people. Unfortunately the app only gives you one super like.. a blue star which you decide to save.

Giddily you head over to your match tab and see four matches. Drew P seems nice. Ashley J looks stylish. G Papa looks like he lives in a Freaknik video. Pussy Hunter is just nasty. Your nose twitches as you shamefully start conversations with all four. When neither responds right away you return to swiping and a notification says you've been super liked, but you can't access who super liked without paying money. You're not doing that so you just go back to the bios and swipe right until you get a reply.

Wyd, Pussy Hunter writes.

Bored, watching movies. You?

You gotta fat ass

Um. Thanks?

Netflix and chill?🙈

Netflix and Netflix. We can talk and hang out..

So no chill

No sex, but we can hang out and do something else

After 5 minutes, you realize he's not going to write you back. You start to swipe again on pictures, left for the whites and weirdos. Right for the black people.

Your finger hovers in the air as you gasp lightly at the thirst trap provided by a man self-identified as Erik. It deserves another sip of apple juice. You gulp it down from your cup. "Jesus.." You can't even see his face, because it's all BODY, but you can tell by the picture exactly what he's on Tinder for. Same m.o. as Pussy Hunter.

Erik S, 28

Fucc around and find out

Good Lord.. those shorts are yet holding on, you stare as if they'll slip down further by you willing them to. You swipe right. Your eyes widen as the app alerts you with a blue star meaning... He super liked your profile.

"NO," you gasp wide eyed at the phone ready to chuck it at the wall. Switching to the messages, there's a new one.. from him.. and you know what it's about. "I need some tea."

---

Erik lazed around his house bumping Schoolboy Q, clad in a white terry cloth bathrobe with a short glass of iced Ciroc and Lemonade in his hand. Dancing, he exfoliated his face with his spin brush, trimmed his mustache and beard, shaped himself up, and moisturized his locs and facial hair. The lil lip scrub he'd gotten as a gift from Cierra, he'd initially fought her on because it smelled like peaches but he liked how soft it made his lips. They even tasted good. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time tasting sugar. They tasted like Cierra.

Speaking of sugar, he looked at his phone wondering why his hoes ain't called. Then again, they could've. He wasn't near the phone all day. Checking the iPhone on the charging dock he saw that he had a missed call.. from Cierra.

Checking the time she called, he figured that was back when he was cleaning his guns and checking the parts. He'd already cleaned and sharpened his knives. He'd checked his security cameras. He felt good. Having no major responsibility and no place to be.

Outside of the missed call he had three new nudes and a video sitting in his messages to watch and record himself masturbating to. He was looking forward to doing that especially since Rell hadn't called with no bullshit local cases. Erik had stated he ain't want no hits near his temporary home.. for a year, he wanted peace. One damn year. But here he was still racking basic skills for pennies. "Chump change is still change," Rell's voice played in his ear. "You don't wanna get rusty. Gotta keep your skills sharp."

Erik had done his share of moving around, racking up international kills and earning the nickname Killmonger. But for a little while, he wanted to settle down in one concealed location where no one knew where he lived, who the fuck he was, or where he was coming or going. He wanted the illusion of peace and normality for a year at least. As much money as he had, he figured he could afford to stay in one place for that long if he was careful.

Only two people knew where he lived and that was Rell and Swift. They knew not to come over. Not even the previous owners of the house knew he was there.. because he'd made them an anonymous offer, killed them and moved in a few days after they'd sold it to him for cash. Needless to say he took all that money back.

He dialed Cierra, roaming to his bedroom to collapse over the bed as the phone rung. "Sup Ci?"

"Master," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice telling him she needed release. She'd been working too long through the past week and needed Master to come take control for a few hours. He could picture her on her knees, already in puppy space. She knew exactly how he liked her to wait for him.

"Yes, Ci. You need me to come for a scene?"

"Rrrrr," she growled. "Arf arf!"

"My bad. Lil Bitch."

"I gotta go to Target and see my sister," but come through later. I don't care how late just call up."

"Your sister? The one you met on Facebook?"

"Yeah, her! She live like an hour away. I'm a link with her and put her on Tinder! Get her a man to pop that back out," she giggles.

"You know I don't mind a two for one," Erik teased knowing she wouldn't go for it. He liked to mess with her anyway.

"Not with my damn sister, I'm not that nasty. A white girl can have it,"

"Damn crush my dream."

"Anyway!"

"Aight, I'm a let you go." Hanging up, he sat up and went to his closet pulling a colorful glass bong he'd gotten from a nigga he once knew in the military. Bruce Everett, white boy. Cool nigga... Too bad he shot hisself with his own gun. Sighing, Erik shook his head and went to the bathroom to fill it with water and headed back to pull his chrome grinder from his drawer along with a screen, hempwick, and a nug of Dr. Greenthumb's Emdog OG, grinding it down to pack the bowl making it fluff up.

"Perfect," he whispered lighting the bong with the hempwick. He lit the edges of the weed going around in a circle for an even and smooth burn as he stood taking a good long hit. "Shit," he exhaled releasing the smoke. I love bongs.

He looked and the bowl was empty as he'd expected. One hit's all you need when you do it right.

"Tinder...," he played in his mind. He already had a fetlife which was how he'd found his subs. Tinder was something different though. He was curious.

Downloading the app on the phone used almost solely for contact with subs, he went through the process of setting up an account, hesitating to put his info. It was general enough and the shit that was too specific, he could just lie. Still, he wouldn't upload his face.

So all I gotta do is swipe and see everyone in the area, he mused looking at all the faces.

"No.. No.. Nope.. Facially challenged.. The fuck is that?.. Hell nah.. Yes.. Yes.. She cute.. Hell nah.. Yes... No..," he paused looking a little closer at the screen. "Hello... Damn."

Out of curiosity he clicked on the profile. "That ass tho!"

He smirked hitting his super like.

"Shid... You can get the blue like.. Whatever the fuck that mean.." He stared at the picture. She had a juicy looking aro with thick black curls, brown skin, bright almond eyes, and enough ass to feed the needy for months. "Shit, if I was on a deserted island with coconuts and that ass.. that's enough meat for a damn.. shidd.." He chuckled. "Fuck is a super like? I super like yo ass meat..," he chuckled again falling back on his bed. "It mean I'm a break yo shit in thirds and fuck the pieces," he coughed, over his own bullshit.

---

Jumping up, you speedwalk into your kitchen and quickly heat some water in a pot, pulling a red mug and a bag of chamomile and a bag of lemon balm to mix with sugar. Combining it all, you take a sip and stand there staring at the wall before taking it with you back to the couch. "Okay," you sigh picking up the phone to open the Tinder message thread.

Cum talk to me, he says. You stare at the words. Wow, this is so cringy you don't know how to respond. You sit the phone back down taking another sip. You think about ignoring him, but you keep touching the phone, coming back to the message and staring.

Hey, you finally type hesitating at the simplicity before sending.

How are you tonight ? Why you up ?

Bored, lonely, contemplating my existence over Glee and wondering why my high school years were never that damn musical. You sip your tea.

Having a tv party with just lil ol' me. Why are you up?

The fuck kinda life you living. You need me to cum spice shit up for you? 👀

You think you that spicy? 👀

You wanna taste me and see?

Jeez. You flip back to the faceless picture of his body. Lord have mercy.

Don't play with a real one I'll show the fuck up real shit, he writes.

Internally you're screaming. He really thinks you're about to have sex with him. "I can't, oh my god," you sigh bouncing your knee. You hesitate before responding.

You can come, but bring food.

Hell yeah. Then you can be dessert. 😈

What? You turn the screen off and grab your head, your elbows on your knees.

What am I doing. Y/N what are you doing.

No sex nigga, you type before taking it back and staring at the screen perplexed. If you say that, he won't message you back.. If you don't say it, he'll be expecting to get some! You still want him to come through though even if he leaves because you're bored. You just want a little company for a little bit.

Maybe you should get a cat..

Your leg shakes unsure of how to respond and you take another sip of the hot tea mix feeling anything but calm.

Without further delay you just drop your address and hope for the best, wondering if you just signed off on your own murder. Maybe I should've told him to meet me somewhere else in the daytime.

Washing your apple juice cup, you put it away and then throw on some black leggings and rainbow fuzzy socks not wanting to open the door in pink bootyshorts adding onto the wrong message you'd already sent him. You also put a kitchen knife under the sofa cushion for easy access just in case.

40 minutes. You like wings?

Parmesan

🤢 Love yourself, sis. I'm getting a mix.

Oh I see you Mr. Petty Labelle, you smile getting a taste of his personality.

Yep. Finna get some of Ms. Petty's pie 

Uh uh, you smirk.

We nuh ave dat

That right? Guess I'll see for myself when I pull up 👅

He's a whole fool. You set the phone down smiling at the tv. Meanwhile you watch another episode.. actually watching it this time.

Knock knock, he messages and you see it having kept the thread up just in case he had an issue.  Jumping up, you snatch your phone and take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is the first time you've ever done something like this and you hope it doesn't go badly.

Who's there, you jest messaging back right before you unlock your multiple locks and crack the door. Peeping out, you shut the door automatically throwing your body against it, holding your breath. He's huge! You didn't even look up, you just saw all that muscle like Kangaroo Jack. And why was he all up on the door?!

"Word? You must not want these wings then," he says through the door. You hear plastic rattling dramatically. "That's aight I don't mind eating em by myself."

You crack the door again, peeping out. You hadn't even seen the plastic bag hanging from his hand, you'd shut him out so fast. You reach out to grab it and he pulls it back.

"Aht! This how you treat guests? Door in the face? Snatching bags?" Your eyes roam from his hard chest to the broadness of his shoulder, resting on the sleeve of his charcoal grey Chicago Bulls shirt. Those biceps.

"Look at you undressing me in your mind already. Go ahead, you can touch me," he adds holding his arm forward as if reading your mind.  He talks a lot.

You snatch the bag and put it behind your back a bit, opening the door. Then you look up and your kitty jumps. It's the devil himself. You try to control your surprise but between his sharp narrow chestnut eyes that smirk down, his sculpted nose, and his full pouting lips, you don't know if you want to kiss him, bite him, or climb him. You wanna do all three and more right in the hall.. up against the wall. His hair too, it's a mess of semi-thick locks that point everywhere like Coolio. It's his everything really..

"Y/N.."

Omg. It sounds so good coming from him. This isn't fair.

"Aye..," he waves.

"Hm," you sigh staring at his face.

"You gone let me in?"

"Huh? Oh." You step back quickly and scan him from head to toe as he steps across the threshold. Bulls shirt, black track pants, black sneakers. His shoes are ugly though, the back heel juts out too far. Balenciaga is written in white. Oh.

You look up and see he's looking you up and down too. Oop. Leading the way you take him to the living room and he settles on the couch, his develish eyes on yours. His knees spread wide as he leans back, hips forward.

Silently screaming, you look away and sit the plastic food bag on the table.

You can feel him staring. The air is full of raunchy expectation and you can't say you blame him. You practically encouraged it on the phone.

"You want something to drink," you smile in friendly attempt, risking a glance and it's just as you thought.

"You know exactly what I want."

"To DRINK," you exphasize, ignoring the thump of your heart in your nana as his eyes roll over your hips.

"Mmm... You got Henny?"

"I have apple juice, tea, water.."

"Ciroc?"

Your face screws, Didnt I just-- "I don't drink.."

"Ever?"

You shake your head.

"Damn, Apple Juice."

Taking your sweet time to pour his juice and refill your tea, you re-enter the living room as the Glee cast kicks off another song that he mutes.

"Here ya go."

You give him his cup and feel the chill in your spine as his fingertips brush yours. Unmuting the tv, you sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs crossed, tense and unsure of what to say to him now that he's there.

"You look uncomfortable."

"Me? I'm fine. I was just marathoning Glee before you came," you say handing him the remote, "I've already seen it though."

He hands the remote back. "You seen Menace II Society?"

"I've heard the title!"

"Well pull it up, let's watch it."

Thank God. That's something easy. You fumble through buttons and he starts opening the food as you set up the movie.

---

"Ooh Laurenz Tate he so fine," she smiled sitting up as the movie started. She would be into his ass. Erik rolled his eyes. Wait for it.

"I hate when they do that," she mumbled in response to the Asian woman following them around the store.

"Yeah," he agreed with swig of the juice looking from the tv to her face, watching her reaction. Wait for it.

"Why don't you give my homeboy his change," O-Dog says before walking to the door. "I feel sorry for your mother," the store owner snubs.

Bitch, don't talk about my mama. That part always pissed Erik off.

"What you say about my mama? You feel sorry for who?!" O-Dog shouts. "I don't want any trouble, just get out," the shopowner shouts, backtracking like the bitch nigga he is.

Fuck that, shoot his bitchass, Erik barked in his head. POP. POP POP. POP. POP. There you go! He shot the wife too, meanwhile, the princess jumped in her seat, absorbed in the felony she just observed on screen. Double-homicide.

"He shouldn't have shot them.. Bruh, now the cops gone be looking for him and his friend wasn't even in it but now he's an accomplice."

"You telling me you wouldn't have shot a nigga talkin shit on your mama?" Erik leaned into her space, curious, but she ain't seem to notice.

"No, 'cause they're rude, ugly, and racist but still. You can't kill without consequences."

Erik steeled. She wasn't wrong.

"I'd have shot his ass too," he admitted watching her. She didn't seem to agree. "Should've kept his mouth off his family."

"You close to your family," she asked suddenly.

"Yeah," he lied knowing his people were dead. "...You mind if I get more juice," he pointed to his cup and she took it refilling it.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she noticed her wing choice wasn't in the selection and Erik kept a poker face having wondered when she'd realize. He'd already started on the barbecue.

"Where's my parmesan," she frowned looking in the boxes.

"They ain't have it," he lied. "Ran out."

"You're such a liar. Now what am I gonna eat," she pouted to his humor.

"Eat the carribean jerk," he nudged the box to her. She eyed it and he felt like a wolf trapping a rabbit, the wings being the bait.

"I ask you for one thing."

"Yeah and? I wasn't finna buy that shit," he chuckled grabbing a jerk wing and biting it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed to entice her. When he peeked, she was watching his mouth out the corner of her eye as he licked spicy sauce off his thumb. Sliding down in the cushion, she crossed her arms and raised a knee with her fuzzy foot on the couch. Such a damn brat. Ol' hungry ass.

He started to flex the length of his tongue since she was looking but decided against it. He couldn't be too aggressive or she'd spook and he wouldn't get no ass. Why he cared, he couldn't put a finger on other than the fact that she'd become a challenge. This girl would not let him anywhere near her. She was very shy considering she was down for a one night stand. I'm getting the draws, he promised himself right then. How? He just had to make her come to him.

Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a jerk wing, rotating it.

"Girl eat the wing, this ain't rocket science," he fussed watching her bite it.

"It's better than parmesan?" Lie, he dared watching her closely.

She took another bite.. then she attacked the wing and when she licked her fingers, he looked away grabbing another wing and swig of his juice.

"OKAY. SHUT UP." She grabbed another wing chewing through it as he coughed in his elbow hiding his laugh.

"I didn't say anything," he croaked shrugging her off.

"But you smiling and I can hear you thinking."

He couldn't hide the fat grin plastered on his face though he'd tried by looking away. "How you hear me thinking," he squinted watching her collect bones.

"Because I do, you're loud," she stressed.

"How I'm l-"

"SHH!! I'm tryna hear," she whispered. He shook his head watching the corner of her mouth lift and they watched the movie in silence until she reached for another wing and all the jerk were gone. He pushed her another box.

"You all the way over there. Come sit next to me."

"I'm not that far."

"You are. I promise I won't bite you.."

Her eyes rolled.

"Not unless you into that shit," he added patting the cushion beside him. She lifted, barely moving. "You scared?"

"What you mean?" She looked nervous all of a sudden looking anxiously in his eyes. This was gonna be a tough wall to break.

He patted the cushion again, waiting, and she finally moved in closer filling the empty seat beside him. He determined right then not to touch her but to get as close as possible maintaining proximity to get her used to his presence. Draping an arm over the couch behind her, he observed silently as she sat tense for the the next five minutes before relaxing. He had his work cutout.

@soufcakmistress @itsiesha @ju5tp34chy @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @blackpantherimagines @blackpinup22 @muse-of-mbaku @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe   @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens   @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @purplehairgawdess @indigoxsummers @cccccx1   @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent-blog

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #house rules

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Headcanon/fic: "Tom with superpowers"

Reader x Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Gender neutral reader

Context: in the same world that happens the whole Avengers situation, Marvel releases the movies. You get a job as health assistant in the franchise, helping the injured actors while they train. There, you met Tom Hiddleston, and... maybe someone else too.

Loki won his reputation in Midgard the wrong way, since the whole New York incident. You knew him well as the selfish psychopath you thought he was.

But ever since you started working in Marvel, you got a bit into the story and past of him and understood his character better. You thought he was quite charming.

Actually, you thought Tom Hiddleston, his actor, was more than charming.

You met him on a rainy day. Your scrubs were soaking wet, since you've come to work by walking (a terrible idea) and the rain caught you in the middle.

Someone in the entrance told you to get something dry from the lost & found box, and so you did.

A nice and warm hoodie replaced the top of your scrubs and you started drying your hair with a towel as you walked on set.

"Excuse me", said a deep and harmonious voice, touching your shoulder. "I think that belongs to me".

You lifted your gaze at the stranger and as soon as you met his eyes, both were speechless.

Tom Hiddleston in person. God, the man was even more beautiful than through a screen. You smiled nervously as he smirked. He didn't take his eyes off you for a second.

"What?", you finally said.

"You have my hoodie".

"Oh, I'm... I'm really sorry. I was... anyways, I'm giving it back now" you tried to articulate, still choking on your words. He noticed you were nervous and didn't comment on it. What a gentleman, you thought.

"Give it back in dinner, would you?" he said suddenly, yet smoothly. You had to blink twice to realize what he just said. "Meet you at eight in the doorway? I'll take you somewhere nice and quiet".

Your mind was off for the rest of the day, until dinner came along. Your coworkers noticed your brain was somewhere else than in the present, but they didn't say anything; they kind of figured Tom would've asked you out. They saw how he smiled at you on set the whole day.

Dinner was perfect, and so were the other five, six, seven...

You started dating very frequently. Always kept it down, avoiding the press rumors, avoiding paparazzis, keeping private life... well, private.

If there was something you definetly loved about him, was his passion. He was passionate about everything he spoke about. And he was even more passionate about listening to you talking.

And when you spoke your mind off about how Loki was misunderstood, and such a good character, such an interesting person (well, God); he listened.

Sometimes you could catch a glimpse of him being still on character. He'd say or do something and you'd answer "your Loki is showing", and he'd get all nervous and blushed.

You always wondered why. It's normal for actors to slip away something of their characters sometimes. Why did he get so embarrassed about it?

It was even more in interviews. He'd hide pretty well those assets that you'd connect so much to Loki's personality, afraid he might not "look Tom enough".

Already years into the relationship, you have already made it public. You still worked for Marvel and spent a lot of time on set, and sometimes you walked in some interviews.

There was this specific interview where you walked accidentally in the room, and he greeted you, with the camera running, with the most Loki tone of voice possible.

"Hello, baby".

Tom never called you baby. Not even when you called him daddy. He'd call you darling, dear, beloved, my love, my sweet, sweetheart, lover... but baby? Never that.

As soon as he realized those foreign words slipping out of his tongue, his face straightened and went into what you'd call his 'dark mode', a very serious face he made when his inner Loki spilled out of his words.

The 'dark mode' only could be described as the face someone does when making a big, irreparable mistake. Like saying the words he should've never said.

And it only faded away when he realized you didn't notice it. Like he was hiding a big secret from you, and those words would give him away.

But they never did, and he always relaxed his face to see that you were unaware of what he was hiding.

"Baby..." you recalled that same night, wrapped around in the warmth of the blankets. "You went all Loki today. But I like it. It fits you so well".

He stared at you from the doorstep, holding a book he promised to read you before sleeping. He smiled slightly and turned that smirk into a sad look very quickly.

"What's wrong, honey?".

"Nothing, my love. I'm just tired from work, that's all".

"For playing the God of lies, you're a terrible liar" you mocked him. He sat by your side and caressed your cheek with the soft touch of his hand.

"You're the only one who's always been able to read right through my bullshit. That's one of the reasons I love you so much". He said quietly.

"I'd love to know what goes through your mind when the character slips through your words. You play him marvelously, you shouldn't be ashamed to have gotten used to some of his mannerisms", you told him while running your fingers through his hair.

"I'd say I have too many of them".

"Yeah", you chuckled "it's almost like Loki is playing you, instead of you playing Loki".

"Oh, darling. Only if you knew", he said with the deepest and sexiest voice he has ever spoken.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you whispered.

He laughed slightly, and cut the conversation off with a "nothing, I'm just messing with you".

But you knew he wasn't.

Something in his eyes... he couldn't lie to you any longer. Not with you allowing it.

"What is it? I really, really want to know".

You insisted and insisted. He rolled his eyes and said nothing all night.

Next morning he didn't awake by your side. You were waiting for him in the kitchen, with a fresh cup of tea and a teasing smile on your face.

"Good morning, love" he said, hands in your waist while kissing both of your cheeks. "What are you doing up so early?".

"I want to do something crazy".

"Oh no".

"Oh yes".

"What do you want to do?".

"Let's go to Asgard. Let's go to catch a glimpse of the cell Loki is supposedly locked up in. I know it sounds crazy, but I really think it would help you with the character building. You know, since you give such importance to the role and..."

But he didn't let you finish, and closed the conversation with a "no way. Absolutely not".

And there was nothing else to discuss.

"I'm going".

"He's a crazy murderer that wants to slave everybody. There is no way I'm letting you see him".

"I'm going you like it or not", you said, grabbing your keys and going towards the door.

He stood infront of you with the most serious look you've ever seen in his face. "You're not going".

"Just one reason, give me one".

"He's not in his cell, you wouldn't find him there".

"And how do you know that?".

His eyes, that once showed anger and concern, were now fearful and disappointed.

"I can't say".

"This has to do with your 'dark mode', doesn't it? What are you hiding from me, Thomas?".

He sighed. Hugged you tightly as if you were never holding him again after what you'd hear next.

He whispered in your ear "I'm sorry for lying. It's just what I do best".

Tom and the expressions that differentiated him from Loki got bathed in a golden light. His hair became long and dark, his facial hair disappeared, his eyebrows got fixed (exactly how they made his make up for the movies), and his midgardian shirt and trousers transformed into the leather and metal armor that represented Loki so well.

"Oh my FUCKING GOD" you yelled as you hold your body against the wall, trying not to fall. Your legs were shaking.

"Yes".

"YOU'RE--".

"The... fucking God".

"H-how??".

"Long story short, I needed to start over. And I'm a shapeshifter, it's not too hard for me to disguise".

You sat on a chair and he did the same. You looked at him up and down as you steadied yourself. Once you were already taking all the madness in, you were able to speak.

"So, you could've pretended to be ANY midgardian out here".

"I could've".

"And you chose to become an actor that would play you?".

He laughed, with the same laughter Tom had. He's the same man I fell in love with, after all, you thought.

He started saying that he understood if you felt unsafe and lied to with him. That if you wanted to end the relationship his soul would ache eternally, but he would let you go. That he did something unforgivable; he played with your trust.

You got up and cupped your hands around his neck, leaving a small kiss on his lips.

"Shut up".

"Beg you pardon?".

"I love you, I don't care about anything else. To me, now you're Tom with superpowers".

"That's the most stupid yet most lovable thing you've ever told me".

"I'm sure I said stupider things". And you glanced down. "I wonder how much of your God skills you were hiding all this time".

He smiled before lifting you in the air and taking you bride style to the bedroom.

"Oh, baby, you'll see".

#loki #loki headcanon #tom hiddleston #hiddleston #loki x reader #tom Hiddleston x reader #headcanon #mcu #marvel

[jaeminscoffee]

6:45 PM

Pairing- Lee Jeno x reader.

Genre- Angst, Fluff.

Word count- 1.91k

Warning- False accusation, Jeno seems a little thick headed but he was just caught up in the heat, mention of breaking up but not really :))

Summary- Not the ideal off day with your loved ones that you were looking for.

"You need to tell me what's wrong, Jeno."  you demand with a stern voice, having had enough of the way your boyfriend was acting. 

Earlier today Jaemin, a good friend of yours, a best friend of Jeno's had come over, reason being missing his two best hype mates and not getting much time to spend with you after having a hectic schedule. 

Jeno was fine the first two hours, interacting well, cracking stupid tacky jokes, sometimes even ganging up with Jaemin to make fun of you. But you noticed the gradual strip out of his patience, furrowing his eyebrows or gripping the pillow in a death grip. His subtle glares towards his friend was not given a blind eye, you noticed it all. Typical Jeno. He's always been a little jealous over your slightly curved affection for others. 

It was only when he did something he's never done throughout the years of one, your relationship, two Jaemins friendship that had you completely shocked. 

"I have nothing to tell you, Y/n" He replied with the same tone he held an hour ago after the guest left the house. You weren't going to buy his bullshit. 

"You screamed at Jaemin asking him to get out. Do you still have nothing to tell me?" you ask, walking up to where he sat by the edge of the bed. 

"I said i have nothing to tell you." Voice hoarse, the veins on his neck protruding prominently from how strained his jaws were. "Well you do." You spit out as soon as you stood in front of him, his gaze still fixated on the floor. 

"I. Don't." he repeated the words through gritted teeth. For a normal person, he'd be extremely intimidating and would've had the other weak in their knees from how threatening he sounded. Fights are normal for any couple but the last you'd heard him use this tone was when someone tried to touch you at a club you went to for the weekend.

"Then I do. Jaemin's your best friend for god's sake! He came in here, wanting to spend some quality time with us and he was an absolute sweetheart throughout even! And what do you do? Scream at him? For what? He seemed so hurt! What must he be thinking right no-!" 

"Enough!" Jeno stood up, towering over your much smaller figure with his as he narrowed his eyes down at you, nose flaring. You wouldn't be shocked if he started breathing out flames. 

You jump from the sudden raise of his voice, having to crane your neck to look up at him, hands shaking the slightest from the flinch you just experienced. 

"Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Who's your boyfriend, huh?" He started walking forward, almost stepping on your toes if you hadn't moved back, "Actually, he might as well be! You're always on about him and now you even want to go defend him" he poked at your right shoulder, pushing you back as you gaped at his words, completely taken aback by his assumption. 

"All i wanted was one fucking day to spend with you but nope! You want your dearest Jaemin with you. All the fucking time! Do you not love me anymore, Y/n?" Jeno let out an exhale, pushing you back with a single finger still on your shoulder, making you step back, "Jen-" "No you wanted me to tell you what's wrong right? Hear me out then!" 

"Is Jaemin all you think about, Y/n? Is that why you're getting so worked up over me shouting at my best friend?? Emphasize the word, my. My best friend, why is it affecting you? Huh?" He raised his voice once again, you turn your head to the side, crunching up the facials trying to make out why he's making this a big deal. It was his fault to begin with. 

"You want him that much then just go to him right! Or you want both of us because i won't be shocked at that, you're a sucker for anything remotely good looking anyways you won't hesitate to run your mouth all over town-!" Jeno stopped midway to completing his sentence, now noticing your glazed eyes and the heavy puffs of air you took. 

"are you done?" you ask with trembling voice, Jeno opened his mouth to speak but you held your hands up, stopping him, "If this is about Jaemin-" Jeno took in a sharp breathe, hands going from poking at your shoulder to holding your shoulder in a tight grip at the mention of his best friends name. Though the grip was bruising, you muster up all the strength you had, removing his hands from you, quickly stepping back to create some space between the two of you. 

"Then he's my friend too." you step back once again as Jeno stood his ground. "But if you heard yourself and actually think of me that way. You're more than welcome to just break things off." you grab the door knob as a tear slipped out, turning away to shield the weakness from your boyfriend who's head is stuck up his butt at the moment, and dashed out the room. 

"Y/n wait-" you hear him call out for you, footsteps shuffling close behind but you grabbed the car keys, wanting away from him to clear your mind the least. One of you should stay sane. 

Driving away to your safe space, the old library that took a journey of around 25 minutes, which is most likely to be 'anything living and breathing'-free as not many knew of that place, which made you love it even more. 

Whiffs of old bookcases are calming.

 You were pleased to find out your assumptions were correct, not a single soul other than a tired out cashier who seemed long passed out, given he failed to hear the ringing of the entrance opening. 

You make your way to the extreme back, not particularly wanting to read anything with your thoughts clouded, allowing yourself a seat you found at a secluded corner. 

You take your phone out, that had been vibrating since you left home after Jeno's sudden outburst, ignoring them, wanting him to feel bad for what he's done throughout the day, you scroll through your phone searching for Jaemin's contact, opening up messages to type in a quick apology for your boyfriend's behavior, explaining it must've been the the fatigue that got to him, but made sure to tell him not to wave off this behavior and screw him when they meet later. 

Getting a reply almost immediately, you were shocked to find out Jaemin was still as bubbly as ever, saying it's fine and that he didn't take anything to heart which just made you feel even guiltier than you already felt. 

Texting back and forth, Jaemin being more than ready to keep you company after you narrated what had happened back home, cracking jokes to make you feel better when you wantedly missed out on a few parts to tell him, you jolt when you feel a hand tear you away from the screen and the table in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

Warmth being familiar, you resist the urge to hug him back, not even bothering to ask him how he'd known where you'd be at as this is known to be the place you go to calm your mind, rather all those cliché places like the bridge or a cliff, or the beach, or taking a stroll in the twilight whatsoever. 

"Y/n I'm so so sorry, please don't run off like that again" he spoke, Jeno mimicked your voice from before, this time quivering with guilt. "Let go, Jen" you spoke with a voice void of all emotions, tables turning as you mirrored his voice from the time of the argument.

"No, I won't, I'm so sorry, I meant nothing of what I said! Trust me, I was just being unreasonable and petty, i would never want to let go of you. I'd be an idiot if i did so" he spoke against your hair, grip around you tight, yet delicate, soft enough for you to step out if you'd wished. 

"Yes you were." you reply, slowly raising your hands to feather over his elbows as he pressed you further against his chest, "I know. I'm really sorry, love. I was just jealous is all. And it had been a rough week at work and all that got to me but trust me when I say I'll do anything to repent just, please don't let my words get to you" he caressed your back. 

"Those were all words of spiked up anger, and i really want to throw myself off a cliff, I'm really sorry, i am" he pulled away enough to place a peck on your forehead. 

"you'll do anything?" you repeat his words for confirmation, finally allowing yourself to throw your hands around his torso. You look up at him, seeing a faint crimson at the white of his eye, the hue being really pale that you'd not make out if you stood a couple yards away. He must've shed some tears, just like you. 

"Anything." with a nod, he hesitantly placed a delicate kiss on your lips, scared you'd shatter if he'd pressed any harder. 

"house chores for a week." you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to drag the fight for long as it'd only take a negative toll on your relationship. 

"Okay!" Jeno's face evidently lightened up, quick to think he's forgiven, "thank you for forgivin-"

"Don't be so sure on that, boy. You still have one thing left to do until I completely forgive you" you step back, turning to walk back towards the exit, fishing for the car keys from the back pocket of your jean, turning around and throwing the keys at him swiftly, his reflexes allow him to catch it. 

"You're driving to Jaemin's house and begging for an apology, right now." it was only the right thing to do even after the lad insisting on not being hurt. Jeno is his best friend, it's always sucky when you have your friend mad at you without knowing what you did. Worse if you didn't actually do anything. 

"You have it." Jeno exclaimed, walking towards you as the two of you made your way to the exit. "you're doing it the way i want you to, though", you turn your body towards him after both of you stood by the door of the passengers side. 

"And how do you want me to do it?" He inquired, leaning against the car. "First tell him exactly what you said to me" Jeno nodded, agreeing to do that, "Then give him a tight hug and repeat sorry until he swats you away" he contemplated for a moment, but eventually ended up agreeing to it too. "And then.. Give him a kiss on the cheek." Your boyfriend let out a sound of protest, leaning back further onto the surface. 

"Do i really have to??" he asked, whining. 

"Yes."

"Like, really? really?" 

"Mhm"

"for real? Real? Is it that important?" you let out a sigh at his constant poking at your side as he pushed further with the question. 

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?" you ask, voice demanding, a hint of teasing evident. "Yes!" he was fast to reply. 

"Then give him a kiss. "

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[writteninkat]

ii - rubies?!

word count - 1,903

warnings - mention of scars

"he's so tall and handsome as hell. he's so bad but he does it so well."

index

As you waited for April to come around, you spent your remaining days working out and training your quirk on your own. You didn't want to look for your father nor did you want to bump into him- the only time you wanted to see him was during UA's sports festival where you know he'll be watching so you can rub it in his face how good your life is without him.

As you work out in your apartment building's gym, you can't keep the blond out of your head. Was he doing alright? Should you have asked for his phone number at least? Where did he study? Was he even from this area?

Your mind races and wanders around thoughts about the blond, causing you to trip on your own feet on the treadmill. Before your hands come in contact with the running deck, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, saving you from the fall but not from the embarrassment.

You take a few moments to stop and think about what just happened, allowing the whole thing to just sink in. I almost tripped because I was thinking about some guy. Stupid mistake.

Your savior puts you down beside the treadmill, hands immediately letting go of your waist. "You okay?" Despite having such buffed-up arms, he had such a sweet voice. You look to your right, checking to see the face of your knight in shining armor.

"My name's Izuku Midoriya." He smiles widely, extending his hand towards you. You take it, smiling back. "Y/n L/n, and yeah, I'm alright. Thanks for saving me, I could have attended my first day in UA with a bandage on my forehead." You chuckled, watching the guy's facial expression turn into excitement.

"No way! You'll be attending UA? That's crazy so am I!"

Your eyes widen, finally someone I can be close to in that new school. "What class are you in?" You move to turn off the treadmill, picking up your water bottle from the floor. You unscrew the cap, taking large sips as you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Class 1A."

The water backfires, going down the wrong pipe. You cough out the water, rubbing your chest in pain as Midoriya pats on your back in worry. "You okay? Again?"

You wave your hand at him, coughing a few more times before clearing your throat. "So am I." Your voice comes out rough and broken but still understandable.

For the rest of the day, you chat with Midoriya, getting to know each other as you helped each other work out. Like whenever you needed help with your form, he'd guide you. When he needed more weight on his back as he did push up, you were more than happy to sit on him as you scrolled through your cellphone.

As the end of the day, before the two of you part, he asks for your number so it would be easier to contact you. You kind of regret giving it to him cause he wouldn't shut up about the heroes he looked up to. He was such a hero nerd you found it funny.

When he calmed down and told you good night, you hit the sack yourself, images of the angry blond with beautiful ruby eyes filling your head as you fell asleep with a smile. And honestly, that was the best sleep you've had in years.

You're walking yourself to your new school, heart drumming against your chest. The feeling was a little too nostalgic, it was the same feeling you felt back when you came to UA for the practical exam. It felt like time went by a little too fast. You calm your mind, remembering your mom's text to you earlier that morning, telling you good luck with your first day.

You try recalling your goal- to become a hero despite my father telling me I couldn't. To become a hero, to become a hero to become-

"Hey Y/n!" Midoriya waves at you, his smile as bright as the sun. It's sickening but you shrug it off, it suits his face. "Oh, I hope it's alright if I call you Y/n."

"Only if I can call you Izuku." You wink at him, smiling as you continue your way towards the building. As Izuku rambled on about how nervous he was for today that he couldn't sleep properly, your mind raced back to the thought of the school uniform being uncomfortable.

You were so used to wear pants that showing off your legs seemed taboo to you. Don't get it wrong, you like your legs, you think they're okay. But you've been wearing pants maybe eighty percent of your life that you don't like showing even your knees. You can't sit the way you want with skirts- especially if the way you want is your legs either parted apart as you sink onto your chair or your legs on the desk as you scroll through your phone lazily.

Given that it was school rules to wear a uniform, you decided to cover up your legs with black thigh high instead, cursing at the skirt for being a little bit too short for your liking.

"Here it is." Izuku points up at the board right above the classroom door that read 1A. "I just hope I'm not classmates with Tenya or Kacchan." He chuckles, reaching for the door.

"Tenya? That glasses dude who seemed like someone pissed in his cheerios the morning of the exam?" Izuku nods his head but your mind wasn't at ease just yet. Who the hell was this Kacchan?

Your mind wanders again but your thoughts clear away when you hear two people arguing.

"Take your feet off that desk now." You chuckle, recognizing that voice. You mentally send a sorry to Izuku's way.

"Hah?" And that voice too!

You look up, scanning the room and looking for your two new classmates who were arguing. Iida's back covers who he's getting mad at, forcing you to step inside the classroom to get a better look.

"It's the first day and you're already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property you cretin."

"You're kidding me right? Your old school put a stick in your ass?"

As you thought, that voice belonged to the same guy who's been infiltrating your head ever since you met him. Day and night. However his attitude caught you off guard, he wasn't this rude when the two of you met.

"Rubies?" You say out loud, the blond, or as Izuku calls him, Kacchan looks your way, eyes widening at the sight of you in the same classroom as him. His once smug expression is wiped off his face as he stares at you, completely taken off guard.

Tenya and a brown haird girl who looked a little too much like Kirby approached Izuku and they began talking to him. You, in the other hand, are being pulled out of the classroom by the blond. His hand still as soft as you remember, his grip isn't even that tight around your wrist. Just enough to tug you to where he wanted to bring you without hurting you.

The two of you stand right outside the door leading to the back of the classroom. He turns around, smug expression completely gone and replaced by confusion.

"You never told me you went to UA." He says, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he leans his side on the wall. You cross your arms on your chest, leaning to the side as you rest most of your weight on one leg. "You never asked." The two of you look at each other in silence for a few moments, your heart going haywire in your chest as he keeps his eyes on you. Such eyes that could keep you in a cage of trance forever.

Bakugou opens his mouth but before he could get a word out, a tired voice cuts him off. "Get inside the classroom." He tired-looking man with unkept hair and peach fuzz tells you both. Was he the school janitor? Nevertheless, the both of you walked back inside the classroom, Bakugou's eyes silently telling you that the two of you were going to finish the conversation later.

You sat down on your seat, eyes following the same tired-looking man as he stood in front of the class. "My name is Shota Aizawa. I'll be your homeroom teacher from now on."

He hands all of you your PE uniforms, telling you all to quickly change into them. You follow the girls to the changing rooms and you hang your PE uniform on your locker, already unbuttoning your uniform but you stop yourself.

I can't show them that.

A girl with long black hair, similar to yours, looks at you from the side, her expression questioning. "I don't think Aizawa sensei is okay with late students. You should quickly change."

You wrap your hands around yourself, cringing at the thought of other eyes on your body. The girl's expression changes into a softer one and she smiles, "Don't worry, nobody here will judge. All bodies are beautiful the way they are."

Exactly, yeah. If these girls were going to be your second family until you graduate highschool, you shouldn't be afraid. You can trust them, right?

Slowly, with slightly trembling hands, you begin unbuttoning your uniform. Taking a deep breath in, you slip your long sleeve down your body, showcasing the many scars that littered all over your back.

You can feel the atmosphere change into a silent, much colder one and your thoughts begin to race. Was it wrong for you to show them this? You've only been together for a few hours, how could you show such a vulnerable side of yourself?

Your eyes squeeze shut, ready for the comments and snickers but instead you hear a squeal. "We have the same bra!" A pink girl squeals, pointing at her pink lacy bra. A smile creeps onto your face as the girl extends her hand towards you, "I'm Mina Ashido. Nice to meet you, twinnie!" She perks and as soon as you take her hand, she shakes it softly before pulling away.

You quickly dress up into your PE uniform, pulling your hair up into a ponytail. "Woah, L/n! The white streaks on your hair look so cool! Where did you get them done?" Mina asks, completely taken by your hair, her eyes sparkling as you flushed at her compliment. No one has ever complimented your hair so genuinely like that before, makes you feel kind of proud having it.

"It's actually natural. My dad has black hair and my mom has white." The girls begin to ooooh and soon after, you all have reached the fields. Aizawa stands beside a white square with a device in his hand, patiently waiting with lazy eyes on his students.

"You should put your hair up like that more. I think the white streaks are cool." Bakugou tells you, his eyes and face forward as he listens to Aizawa talking.

You wouldn't tell him, but his words had your stomach feeling weird things and you feel your face slowly heat up. You swallow whatever you were feeling and face forward.

"Don't tell me what to do, rubies."

You had to buy more ponytails.

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