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bellasprettywords · 2 days

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A different way to say I love you (Spencer Reid x Reader)

As always, this is not proofread because of who I am as a person

My masterlist

Warnings: Little mentions of alcohol and overall fluff

Word count: 1,037 (ish because there are emojis)

y/n – your name

Gender-neutral reader

The first time Spencer Reid told you he loved you, he didn’t do it with words…

It was Penelope’s birthday and the whole gang went out clubbing. You were a little more drunk than you normally would’ve liked considering you were out with your bosses, and your best friend who at the same time was the man you loved: Spencer Reid. Spencer was on y/n watch duty, considering he has always been protective of you, that he didn’t drink much, and that public settings like clubs made him on edge.

“We should get going, sweetie” you heard Spencer whisper in your ear

“I don’t wanna go yeeeet, I feel like daaancing” you said standing from the barstool and pulling Spencer’s arm into the dancefloor

“Woah woah, I’m not much of a dancer” he said nervously

“Just relax, let me lead you” you said as you placed his hands on your waist and danced wrapped around the arms of the man you loved from a distance. After a couple of hours, you were beat, so finally agreed to Spencer’s suggestion and accepted to share a cab with your best friend.

The two of you were in the back of the taxi, your head leaning on your best friend’s shoulder and you could perfectly smell the intoxication scent of wood, musk, and a little of alcohol that more than one person had spilled over Spencer at the club. You were holding hands, which wasn’t weird, as you pretty much had gotten Spence used to physical touch, and since he had become comfortable with it, the two of you were always touching some part of each other

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, tilting his head so he could get a better looked at you

“Yeah, I’m just a little tired” you said giving Spencer a small smile, there was something conforming about being there, next to each other, just softly caressing each other, without saying anything. At that moment, you felt Spencer squeezing your hand softly three times.

Spencer helped you up to your apartment, you were still tipsy from the night out, and he wanted to make sure you got safely to bed. Stumbling, Spencer opened the door of your apartment, and helped you in

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetie” Spencer said chucking at the sight of you walking through your furniture, trying not to stumble

“Thank you for taking such good care of me” you said, gifting Spencer a lazy smile

“Come on, we have to tuck you in” Spencer said leading you into your room, the same room he had been at least a thousand times, at the end of the day, being your best friend meant constantly coming over

“Wait, I have to get on my jammies” you said pulling away from Spencer

“Alright, I’m going to leave you for a while, so you can get changed” he said, leaving your room, closing the door behind him, and feeling his cheeks getting red and hot at the thought of you changing.

You were taking off your pants, when you stumbled and fell to the side of your bed; and with the sound of the stumble, Reid entered your room swiftly, helping you up

“Are you okay?” Spencer looked concerned, scanning your body trying to make sure you were alright after the stumble

“I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry too much, mighty Doctor Reid” you said, burying your face into Spencer’s neck and chuckling at the situation. Spencer was now sitting on your bed, with your pantless body plastered over his, at this moment, you were just inches from his lips, and you could feel his eyes, scanning your face, and body

“Come on, let me help you get changed” Spencer said gulping loudly, feeling his cheeks burning up

“Fine, you can help me, but no peaking” you said and both of you shared a laugh, as Spencer helped you get into your pjs

“I’m going to head out” Spencer said standing next to the door frame of your bedroom

“Don’t leave just yet, lay down with me for a little while” you pleaded Spencer making room on your bed for him

“I’ll stay, but only for a little while, I have to get back home” he said, taking off his shoes and getting into bed with you. You could feel Spencer’s arms around you, caressing you and making you feel safe

“Can I ask you something?” you said, turning to him so you could face him

“Of course, anything for you” he replied fixing a strand of your hair

“Why do you squeeze my hand three times? It’s not the first time I feel you doing it” you asked, and you felt Spencer’s hand reach to you

“It means: I. Love. You” Spencer said, squeezing your hand one time per word

“In that case: I. Love. You. Too” you replied, squeezing Spencer’s hand four times

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Life was great for Doctor Spencer Reid lately, his social abilities had increased, you were finally a couple after quite a while of pining over each other, and he was finally feeling like he fit in somewhere. Nonetheless, anxiety was an immense part of Spencer Reid’s life. Especially because working at the BAU, his genius mind would constantly speed, and sometimes, without even realizing it, he would spiral into horrific scenarios. Sure,

You were on a briefing. JJ and Hotch were explaining the details of the new case you’d work on, and you could tell something was off with Spencer. When cases involved children, he’d get overly anxious, and as you were holding hands, you could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. You didn’t want to give away the fact that Spencer was struggling with coping as the case was being revising, so you did the one thing you knew would make him feel better:

You squeezed his hand three times; and when you felt him squeezing your hand four times in return, you searched for Spencer’s eyes, and once you found them, you gave him a reassuring smile, just to let him know everything would be okay.

The meeting ended and Spencer and you left the room together, to prepare your bags as Hotch called wheels on 30 minutes. Spencer and you were picking your stuff from your adjacent desks when you heard him saying:

“I always hoped I would be lucky enough to find someone who I could say “I love you”, even when words are too much”

"I love you too, Spence" you said, placing a soft kiss on your boyfriend's lips before departing

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elronds-pointy-ears · 1 year

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#Robert aramayo #behind her eyes #netflix #rob #what a cute lil bean #he has pretty eyes i am going to say that a thousand times more if i have to #myworkalso using that as my emotional support post for the day #i need it and i think you might too #have a good day everyone 🥰

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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dealer — coriolanus snow

you can’t help it, but your dealer, snow, is just so hot. and when you’re buying weed from him, you can’t resist offering him an alternative form of payment…

cw: 18+//weed-smoking//handjobs//fingering (f. receiving)//dealer!coryo

it was embarrassing, really, how hot you found your dealer. of course, he’d really been your friend’s dealer first, before you met him you’d never even tried weed before, but when you found out he was hot—pretty much perpetually shirtless, toned, with a blonde buzzcut and icy blue eyes—you started saying you smoked just to have an excuse to see him.

you had come to see him today to pick up, but you’d put extra effort into your appearance. a little bit of eyeshadow and mascara; not too much to be noticeable, but enough that it brought out your best features. you’d also made sure to wear your shortest skirt, and was planning on ‘accidentally’ dropping something so you’d have to bend over and show him your lacy thong.

so here you are, sitting on the couch with him, his arm resting behind your shoulders. close enough to touch you, but not enough that it seemed purposeful. he moves his arm away for a moment, reaching forward and beginning to grab the skins and weed to roll a blunt.

you never smoked a lot when you were with him, saying you had to drive home or you had to work afterwards, but really it was because you’d never had more than a few puffs. you ended up giving most of the weed to your friends. it was becoming a little obvious now, but he had. never called you out on it, yet.

you watch him lick the paper, his nimble fingers rolling it up firmly. he’s done it thousands of times, and as you gaze at him, you feel your heart flutter. there’s something so attractive about the way his biceps flex, and how his tongue darts out just so. you feel your core burning, and your hand tenses around the arm of the couch.

‘there you go, princess,’ he says with a smile, handing you the perfect rolled blunt.

he reaches for his lighter, and as you hold the blunt to your glossy lips, he lights you up. your cheeks redden as his pinky brushes against your chin, ever-so-slightly. you take a small drag, the blunt wedged between your middle and forefinger.

‘thanks,’ you say with a slight cough. you’ve never been very well-practised at smoking, but he doesn’t tease you for it.

he takes a hit himself, his expert lips sucking in a heavy drag, and you wonder what that mouth would feel like against your own. you shift a little in your seat, foot tapping nervously. the first drag of weed doesn’t seem to calm you, so when he hands it back to you, you take a longer drag.

your head spins slightly, and you see him smiling at you through the haze the puff has induced. when that fades, he’s still smiling, and he seems to have moved several inches closer to you.

‘you look nice today, princess,’ he murmurs, taking the blunt from you and taking another hit.

‘thanks, snow,’ you blush, eyes flickering down to your thighs. you can’t help but realise how bear they are, how your skirt has crept up so high that you can make out the pink lace fabric of your panties.

‘you always look nice though,’ he strokes your cheek, hand surprisingly cold. you’d always thought he was warm, judging by the fact that he was either in a white tank top or a shirtless. ‘but today… something’s different.’

‘well, i am wearing makeup,’ you admit shyly, and he chuckles.

his icy eyes flicker down to your legs, the way they’ve curled up, and when you move your knees absentmindedly, he can’t help but spy your panties. a breath catches in his throat, and he moves his gaze back to yours, not wanting to seem like he was perving on you. he can’t get the image out of his mind though, the way he could see the outline of your folds through the sheer lace fabric.

but he can’t. you’re so innocent and sweet. and he’s… well, he’s caught up in a world he doesn’t want to involve you in. you are so pretty though, and always pay him properly, and you have perfect manners. he wishes half the girls that bought from him were as kind as you. of course, you’re special. he always gives you discounts, the special treatment. not that he’d ever tell you, of course. but you’ve never questioned that he gives you 5 grams for only twenty bucks when the going rate is fifty.

you catch the way his eyes dance with want, and maybe it’s the weed that’s given you a newfound self-confidence, or perhaps you’re just taking the chance, but you find yourself speaking before you can even think it through.

‘can i pay you a different way, today?’ you bite your lip, and are returned with a cocked brow.

‘you not have cash today, princess?’ he asks, a little bit frustrated. it’s so complicated when he has to take card, and god forbid the bank asks him where his money is coming from.

you tilt your head to the side, trying not to be too obvious, but he catches a glimmer of desire in your eyes. you lean in closer to him, breath pressing against his cheek. your lips are curved up delicately.

‘i mean, i do, but,’ you pause for a moment, and his mouth draws into a thin line of understanding. ‘i wanted to pay you another way…’

you run your hand up his thigh, feeling the hard muscles under his pants, and watch as he lets out a heavy sigh. he can’t help but begin to harden as your hand inches closer to his cock. he didn’t think you wanted him like he did you, but of course, it makes sense now. the way you had put in extra effort today, how you’d sat in a manner that revealed your panties.

‘you don’t have to, princess,’ he murmurs, and you shake your head, adamant.

‘but i want to… if it’s okay with you, of course,’ your brows arch innocently.

he nods, groaning as you palm his bulge. he can’t believe that you, with your innocent, sweet face, are touching him like this. it feels wrong, but he’s hard in an instant, cock aching as you caress him.

‘fuck, princess,’ he grunts, unable to stop himself from bucking into your palm.

your nimble fingers move to unzip his jeans, and when you slide down his boxers too, your mouth waters at the sight. his cock is pressing against his stomach, and god, it’s so, so big. it’s a little bit daunting, really. you thumb the tip of his cock, earning another groan from his lips.

‘can i?’ you inquire, moving your hand away and bringing it just below your mouth in order to cup your palm.

‘course, not going to complain if you wanna jerk me off,’ he half-laughs, settling further back into the couch.

you spit in your palm, and take your hand right against his cock, stroking him up and down. you give him a smile, but his eyes have fluttered shut, and his lips have stretched around a moan. he can’t believe how good it feels, and perhaps it’s because he’s been dreaming of it at times, but the way you squeeze him, and bring your thumb back over his tip drives him wild.

‘fuck,’ he sighs, a little in disbelief that you’re so good at this.

you continue to stroke him as he grinds into your palm, and as you see him grow with more desire, you use your free hand to pump the base, because he’s just that big. you clench your thighs together, heat pooling at your thighs as you jerk him off.

‘you’re so big,’ you blush, continuing pump your hand at the base of his cock while you squeeze the tip with your other.

he laughs a little, but is cut off by a low moan as you squeeze him between your palm. he doesn’t know how much more he can take, though your face is gazing so innocently at him, your hands are stroking him with filthy intentions; and it feels so good. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and your cheeks burn with a soft flush, feeling giddy but also swamped with want.

‘fuck, princess, think i’m gonna cum,’ he grunts, rutting into your hand.

he gives a few more thrusts, and when you swipe your thumb over the leaking head of his cock again, hot spurts come out onto your hand. his breath hitches, and you let out a soft giggle as your hand becomes sticky with his cum.

you offer him a sweet smile as you lick the cum off your hand, and he can’t help but sigh at the sight of you licking up every last drop of him. it’s so erotic, and the fact that you’re gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes puts a stark contrast to what you’re doing. he continues to watch you as he pulls his boxers and pants back up.

‘i hope you liked it,’ you wiggle closer to him, and press a kiss to his cheek.

‘course i did,’ he wraps an arm around your waist, and draws you flush against him.

your lashes flutter in such proximity to him, and he swears he can hear the pitter patter of your heart. he wants to thank you too, make you come and make sweet noises for him. he presses his lips against your jaw, and trails kisses across it, watching as you arch your neck for him.

‘snow…’ you push him away, heat flooding to your cheeks.

he furrows his brow, a look of slight distress crossing his features. has he pushed too far? you’re embarrassed with the way he’s touching you, anxious that he feels obliged to be all sweet and handsy now because you gave him a handjob. not that you’d mind him manhandling you, but you want it to be genuine.

‘hey, princess, i’m sorry if—’ you cut him off, shaking your head, a small smile creeps upon your lips.

‘no, you didn’t do anything,’ you sigh. ‘it’s just, i want you to know that i really like you. and i don’t want you to feel like you have to be nice to me just because i have you a handjob.’

you fidget restlessly with your hands, thumbs twiddling as you search his face for a reaction, a response. he’s never gotten angry at you before, but part of you fears that you’ve pushed him over the edge, perhaps that your words have been an insult to his pride.

‘how could i not be sweet to you? you’re my girl, yeah?’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you lean against his form, head nestling against his neck. he’s still so cold, but part of you finds that comforting, his cool fingers pressing against the warm skin of your upper arm, trailing down your back…

‘i wanna be your girl, for real,’ you admit bashfully. you gaze up at him, sweet eyes brimming with earnestness. his heart breaks at how innocent you are. ‘you know i only started smoking so i had an excuse to see you.’

he laughs, casting a knowing look at you. he thumbs the smooth skin of your cheek, which is rosy with the slight embarrassment of your confession. he wants to make you his, but there’s so much risk, for you, of course. you’re too sweet, a saccharine smile, god, you’ve not even tried anything else like coke or ecstasy. you could get in a lot of trouble, being his girl. part of him regrets calling you that, but how can he resist temptation when aphrodite is presenting herself to him right before his eyes?

‘i knew you weren’t really a stoner, princess,’ he flashes his pearly whites. ‘too sweet to be smoking that much anyways. ‘n besides, if i thought you were gonna be smoking it i wouldn’t have sold it to you.’

your chest heaves a sigh, and you give an embarrassed show of sheepishness, lips pursing together as you attempt to smear what’s left of the gloss around.

‘but hey,’ he casts an earnest look, blue eyes brimming with sweetness that’s so uncharacteristic for him—not when he’s with you, of course. ‘i’m trouble, princess. don’t want it to end up with you getting hurt.’

‘snow, i’m a big girl, i can handle it,’ you state, though your voice trembles like that of a small child.

you are afraid, truth be told, but the want you feel for him outweighs everything. you don’t care if he has a gun or about the fact that he makes his money selling weed, coke, e. you want him, you want to wrap your pretty lips around his cock, to please him in any way imaginable. your heart flutters everytime he touches you, or calls you princess.

the way he gazes at you reminds you of just how wet you are, panties wet with your desire, and you find your hand snaking between your legs when you think he’s not looking. you rub your clit gently, lips quivering around a soft moan, but snow is onto you.

‘you all wet for me, huh?’ he asks, one brow cocked. his voice is laced with desire, throat feeling a little thick as he attempts to be suave. for some reason, you’re making him, a tough, calloused guy, nervous. he’s got butterflies in his stomach.

‘uh huh,’ you mewl, spreading your legs as you lean back against the couch.

fuck, he could just eat you up. a sweet treat, wrapped up in a pretty bow, just for him. he groans, watching as a finger slips past your panties and into your tight hole. he watches as your finger, which is delicate and slim, struggles to penetrate your cunt. god, he could imagine how much you’d whine as he stretched you out with his big cock.

‘come on, princess, let me do that for you,’ he pleads, placing one hand on your thigh while the other wedges between them.

he moves your hand away, and loops his fingers round the waistband of your panties, tugging them down until your cunt is before him. he catches his breath when he looks at you, the way your folds are glistening, just for him.

he teases one finger through the folds, groaning as he feels your slickness coat his fingers. it’s unbelievable how wet you are, and he’s barely touched you. you let out a low whine, bucking your hips towards his fingers. you’re aching for touch, for him to slip himself inside of you.

‘please, don’t tease me,’ you pout, and snow offers a gentle laugh.

taking your word, though, he slides one finger inside, sighing as your tight walls stretch around him. he wonders just how tight you’ll feel if he buried his cock inside of you, going deeper, and deeper, seeing how much you could take. you gasp, but urge him to put another in, your lips trembling with wanton desire.

‘so fuckin’ tight, princess,’ he shakes his head in disbelief.

he slips a second finger in, and a whimper escapes your mouth, hand stretching out to clutch at his arm. seeing you squirming from his touch, still desperate for more, to ease the ache in your lower belly, he brushes his thumb against your clit.

‘mhm, god,’ you moan, head rolling back against the arm of the couch.

‘you like that, yeah?’ he goads, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles, watching your toes curl up in satisfaction.

you give a lazy nod, bucking your hips against his hand, arching your back as his fingers curl up inside your cunt. the sweet squelching sound of your slick against his fingers can be heard along with the pretty tones of your moaning and grunting. he feels himself harden again, mind dancing with visions of bending you over and watching his cock drive in and out of your tight cunt.

‘feels so good,’ you mewl, feeling your cunt throb with each stroke of his thumb.

‘can’t wait to fill you up, princess,’ he groans, the sound of your pleasure egging him to be forward.

the way his smooth voice caresses your ear makes the pit of your stomach fill with warmth, and plead with him to push his fingers deeper. you’re so close, you can feel yourself coming undone against his fingers, chasing your release.

‘want you to—’ you’re cut off by your own gasp, and your slickness coating snow’s fingers.

‘fuck, coming all for me,’ he grunts, rubbing at your clit as you continue to finish around him, whining a little from overstimulation.

when he slides his fingers out of your cunt, they're glistening. he sucks at your juices, eyes fluttering shut as he licks the sweetness off his fingers. you're completely fucked-out before him, body splayed out, legs spread. he wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there, but he had to practise patience, after all, watching you unfurl around his fingers was beautiful—like an ancient, lost art form.

'thank you, snow,' you very innocently press a kiss to his cheek, and when you pull away he thinks he catches the glistening of tears in your eyes.

he draws you back in against him, lips pressing desperately against yours. he hungers for you, tongue slipping into your mouth, the sweetness of your juices on his tongue mixing with your own saliva. you grasp at his back as your lips press hotly against his own, your tongues meeting every so often. you can feel his boner pressing into you, but you want to save that for next time; make sure it's memorable.

when you two pull apart, both your cheeks are flushed, and you are greeted with that uncharacteristic kindness in his eyes that he only has for you. his eagerness, and also his earnestness, suggests to you that perhaps this isn't going to be a one-time thing.

after all, now you don't need some exaggerated weed-dependency as an excuse to see him.

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yanderemommabean · 7 months

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ive had a thought about yandere sugar daddy like 👀👀👀 the chaos but also yes pls take care of me hehe

You tell him to fuck off and he keeps coming back. You don’t want his money, you don’t ask for it, that night was just a one night stand but he doesn’t really take your answers unless it’s yes.

He insists. Persists more than anything. You thank him for the gifts and even send some back but he simply won’t back off.

You think maybe if you sleep with him again it’ll get out of his system, so you have an admittedly mind blowing and earth shaking night together, but by morning you suddenly have a few thousand in your bank account and a cheeky smile greeting you when you throw a mug towards him in the kitchen.

“Oh hello! Anyway so about your plans tomorrow- if I pay you now care to cancel them? I’d love to have that time for me and you, business trips over seas get me jittery and you know just how to fix me up”.

“I don’t want your money” you sneer, blanket wrapped around your body as you try and explain this as thoroughly as possible, to get it through his thick skull. “I thought big business men like you would love a no strings attached thing anyway! Look just- stop, stop with the finance and everything. I mean it’s appreciated but not wanted. How am I even supposed to explain this to my tax guys?!?”

All you get in return is a snort, the man just sips from his drink and shakes his head. “Seems I owe Victoria that dinner in Paris” he murmurs “I forget the common folk can’t just pay off any issues. But this is your chance isn’t it? Just a bit of fun between the two of us for a while? “

Something about those words seemed hollow at best. With how hard he worked to break your walls down and get you back in bed, you were sure there was more than just playful fun. No. Those eyes held something more sinister, more dangerous.

“Fine. I’ll give you three months and we’re done. I’m also changing my bank account information and getting a new one entirely” you say as you turn around to get dressed and not look like you went through a bad dry cycle in the laundry room. You were too exhausted to try and think of anything else to say to him anyway.

He just smirks, reaching to pull you a mug down that wasn’t shattered in the sink behind him. His fingers brush over the ceramic as he thinks about when to get a matching pair. Maybe for Christmas? Valentine’s Day? Whichever fits the best.

Oh you’re so cute to think you can set a deadline with him. So precious. No, you dear sweet succulent being, no. You’re his. He isn’t letting you go. If anything, since he finally lured you back, his grip is tighter, more possessive.

He wonders if you’ll like the room he’s planning on building soon. Just for you. Then while you’re with him he can spoil you as he pleases, you don’t get to turn off your phone and ignore him all day then.

He’ll get to lavish you like you deserve. Maybe even spoil himself too if he’s honest, as he has a bit of an addiction to watching you fall apart from his touch and his words. Your eyes just look so pretty when they roll back like that!

-Mommabean (shush I’m not unhinged you are! Totally! I’m sooo not foaming at the mouth for this pshh no way! )

#mommabean #yandere sugar daddy #yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x reader

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kissitbttr · 2 months

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your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

#mafia!toji #toji x reader

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cursingtoji · 9 months

Note

I am back for more

31… BUT HEAR ME OUT 😩 I can’t pick between Suguru and Choso because they both fit it SOO well so you pick ☺️💕

𝕿𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙!𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔

⊱ fem reader x heavily tattooed choso, porn with a plot, dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, a tongue piercing; The Clichés ™;

note: winter i remember us talking about tattoo artist choso and i went feral with it, geto is mentioned but he does not participate (yet? 👀)

tattoo artist!Choso who is heavily tattooed mostly black and gray art. his fair skin contrasting with the dark ink on his arms and neck. black smudged eyeliner around his brown eyes make his look upon you feel a thousand times deeper

choso is a sight for sore eyes

he’s exactly the kind of guy you would expect to see working in a tattoo shop

when you go get a matching tattoo with your best friend is when you first see him, writing something down at the reception and not noticing you at first

his pretty face and deep eyes greet you both with a smile so pretty that makes you forget the name of your scheduled artist.

“matching tattoos…” he looks in a book as you hope him to be the artist, “ah here, Suguru!” he calls and a man with black hair tied in a bun comes to you and your friend.

“thank you” you smile getting a wink back from him.

suguru is very friendly, he asks your bestie questions about your friendship since she’s the first one to get inked while you look around the shop, more specifically at the art in frames hanging all around the walls.

one catches your eye: a traditional japanese dragon with some flowers and clouds around it.

you even get closer to take a better look at the intricate details

your friend has to tap your shoulder when shes done cause you completely spaced out thinking about that art on your body

suguru can’t help but notice how your eyes keeping swinging back to that piece on the art while he’s tattooing your forearm

“you know that was done by one of our guys” he says, “Choso. You met him in the reception” he points with his chin to the handsome man

“really? that’s so beautiful… was it done for a client or something like that?” you ask wanting to know if someone else already had that piece of art tattooed.

“no, not really. choso created that on his own” suguru smirks when sees you biting your lip “you know… that would look gorgeous on your back or thigh” you were already tempted without suguru pushing you

by the time your matching tattoo is done, suguru had already convinced you to come back and get the dragon on your thigh, since choso was nowhere to be seen, suguru himself scheduled your appointment with choso for next week.

“gotcha an appointment” suguru says finding choso on the break room

“oh yeah?”

“she’s gonna get the dragon with flowers that has been on the wall for months”

choso stops all he’s doing and looks at suguru with an empty expression

“i know i know, you’re afraid to tattoo it, client not liking and you ending up heart broken cause it’s your favourite drawing of yours…” choso delivered a light punch on his friend’s shoulder, “but come on, the girl was so cute and she really loved it”

it’s not like choso could just call you and say he wasn’t gonna do it so after another punch on suguru he returned to his station and followed his week until the day you returned to studio

saying you were anxious is an understatement

it would be a pretty large tattoo that you decided to get on your thigh, but the expectation to see choso again played a big part on your apprehensiveness

your artist is already at the reception talking to a younger guy you haven’t seen around the last time

you greet them both and say your there for your appointment, the younger one asks who your artist is

“she’s mine, come on sweetheart” he says so casually and leaves you trying to regulate your heartbeats

choso takes you upstairs to the corner of the room and tells you to get comfortable on the chair after you okayed the size of the stencil

“i need you to take it off or it’ll get stained with ink” he pointed to your shorts and closed the curtain, he stayed there but turned around pretending to organize the caps to give you some privacy

you wiggle out of the article and sat back on the chair with your black undies and nothing else under the waist, thankfully you chose a good one, when you’re comfortable choso approaches to rub some alcohol and place the stencil

as soon as you agree he begin to trace the patterns with you sitting on the partially reclined chair

“how we doing?” he looks up after half an hour, having finished part of the drawing

“i’m alright” you sigh

“strong girl, we can make a break in another hour, then i’ll have finished the flowers” he assures and go back to focusing on your thigh

having a gorgeous man so close to your crotch was having an effect on you that didn’t match the pain he was inflicting

of course it hurt but every time he gets too close to your skin and you feel his hot breathing fanning over the sore area you unconsciously press your thighs together

and choso is not stupid, of course he notices how aroused his cute client is, he has his hand on your inner thigh and whenever your reflexes kick and you try to close them he tights his grip on you to avoid you moving and screwing up his lines

“sure you’re okay?” he stops the machine to run vasiline on your skin very softly while looking in your eyes, you can’t find your voice to answer him “we can take a break now, maybe i can get you to relax a little” he doesn’t need to move his hand much to touch the covered lips of your pussy, when he does you whimper

“i can smell how wet you are, does pain turn you on that much?” he removes his hand to snap his glove out and touch the wet patch on your underwear with his bare fingers

you shake your head “no? what was it then? don’t tell me it’s me” he raises from his stool staring from above while you look back at him with doe eyes “aren’t you cute” he murmurs kissing your forehead and pushing your underwear aside to run his fingers on your wet folds a couple of times before pushing them in

“i need you to keep it down for me, can you do that?” he murmurs it so low you barely hear it due to the other voices on the other side of the curtain, you nod and starts to move his fingers skillfully

“naughty girl, booked a tattoo just to get your pussy played with tsk tsk” he adds a second finger keeping your clit under his thumb

“no! i really want it” you reply immediately not wanting him to think for a second you didn’t love his art

that seemed to be enough affirmation for choso, who leans taking your chin with his free hand, he stops right before your lips studying the little pout you have and how dilated your pupils are

he smirks and softly bites your bottom lip, which makes you yelp but he licks it apologetically

choso feels like eating you whole, the way you respond to him is mesmerizing

“c-choso i’m close” you grip his arm and he pushes his tongue in, swallong your moans cause the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers finding out about this

you didn’t notice at first due to his ministrations bellow your waist but he had a tongue piercing, the cold metal rolls between your tongues, a new exciting addition to an already great kiss

his thumb flicker your clit and you press your thighs around his hand climaxing hard and silently

“good girl” he pulls away taking a string of saliva, you rest your head on the chair recovering from your high, for a second your eyes close but soon open them again when you feel a tissue touch your sensitive core

“wait aren’t you— aren’t we—?” you look down to his bulge, he was clearly aroused too

“calm down lady, this is just the first session” he laughs and gently cleans you and the chair finishing up by placing your underwear back, “lemme finish this and if you don’t tap out or squirm i’ll reward you in the end” he winks before disappearing behind the curtains for a couple of minutes, you take the chance to look down at your skin

it was a bit swollen but you could see that the part he had inked already was perfect, the dragon was halfway done and you couldn’t wait to see it completed

when choso gets back he’s pleasurably surprised to find you looking at your leg with a smile in your face

“lemme see…” a few hours later you’re at the reception talking to the boy from before to schedule your return in order to color the rest of the tattoo, “choso is free next—“

“actually yuuji you can book her for this weekend” choso steps up, just walking down the stairs. moments before he told to check with yuuji while he cleaned his station

“you are not working this weekend” yuuji looks at him suspiciously

“i am now” choso emphasize by tapping his finger on the date at the planner

“hm okay” yuuji takes your information and you thank him before choso leads you out

“you’ll be working just for me?” you ask once you’re out

“yeah but you’ll buy us lunch after i’m done”

“done with the tattoo?”

“done with you” your eyes widen and you’re already excited for your date

“okay, I’ll pay, but…” you step closer to him but not too much so the people inside the shop don’t notice, “you’ll have to use your tongue”

“you liked that?” he rolls his tongue out displaying the shiny round metal, “fine i’ll show you what i can do with it next time”

See also: “who did this to you?” + Sukuna

#choso x reader #choso x you #choso x female reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #— the cliches ™

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pirateprincessblog · 7 months

Text

moan for me

NEW! Check out the full ongoing version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you decide you don't want to end your friendship because of a casual fuck. he agrees. just why is he then eye-fucking you across the room and bumping into you accidentally? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!seonghwa, bestfriend!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: hair pulling, dacryphilia, public sex, cream pie, ddlg, public oral (female receiving), voyeurism, breathplay/choking, hickeys, bruising

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: choking?, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: officially, i am ready to get dicked down in a gown by park seonghwa

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

mr park: forgive me for doing it this way, but i would like to cancel the date. it is not the brightest idea, i was carried away by the emotions at the moment. let us close this chapter, as fun as it was. i am not looking for further interactions such as the ones we had, and i am most certainly not looking for a relationship. sorry for giving you the wrong idea. take care.

your heart drops. hidden by the curtain in the changing room, you allow yourself to sit down and drop a few tears. fuck, you were having such a good time. such a handsome, skilled, jaw dropping gorgeous man, just slipped from your grip, and there's nothing you can do about it. you crave his existence, you wish to look at him and touch him day and night. as creepy as it sounds.

the sixth dress you've tried on for the dance is already is itchy against your skin, and you sigh. the bright green isn't flattering on you at all. your friend has already picked the dress, lucky her. your budget wasn't exactly big, so finding something pretty and inside the budget was hard.

"oh, hi dad."

you freeze.

"hello, love."

even his voice is pure honey.

"how is the shopping going?"

"well, i bought mine. i'm just waiting for my bestie to finish trying on."

park seonghwa stays silent. the realization of you being here near him just moments after him ditching you put him in an awkward situation.

"hey, you good in there?" she calls, putting her head between the curtains.

"yup. i'll be right out." you stop to think, making your friend raise her eyebrow questionably. "actually, you go with your dad. i'll check a few more of those sale dresses and head home."

"sale dresses? but the blue one looked like a dream on you! you're still thinking?"

"it's a tad bit out of my budget." you confess, already annoyed at her lack of understanding that you are just not as wealthy as she is.

"oh, why didn't you say so? dad!"

"what the fuck are you doing?!"

"dad, can i get this dress for her? i know you made me block my card because i went crazy at prada yesterday, but i could really use it right now."

hearing her casually mention prada like it was mcdonalds made you a little irritated.

"no, honey. sorry. it's not a really good idea."

"but, but, you didn't even hear the price yet-"

"it doesn't matter. no more spending for this month. be happy i let you get your own dress. you have hundreds at home that are just piling up at the bottom of the closet."

"aren't we, like, super rich? what's another thousand euros for you?"

you are way too embarrassed to leave the changing room, so you stay inside in hopes they'll forget about you and just leave. you glance at the expensive dress that hangs on the wall. it's a pretty royal blue, with a thin sparkly belt on the waist and sparkly straps. it's a minimum, but makes the dress stand out.

"no, i am super rich. you are not exactly. come on, now. get your bags and get into the car. ask your friend if she wants a ride."

"uh, no." your voice is raspy, and you clear your throat. "no, thank you. i am fine."

"very well. let's go then."

you hear paper bags shuffling, then quick footsteps and the doors opening.

"sorry about my dick dad. i don't know what has gotten into him." your friend apologizes.

"you have nothing to apologize for. i didn't even expect him to do something like that, are you out of your mind?"

"oh, what's another thousand for him? he probably made a few just while having that conversation with me. he's just being an asshole."

"car. now."

your squeeze your thighs together, the stern voice coming from the man doing wonders inside your stomach.

"ugh, i'm coming!" the girl stomps after him, leaving you alone in silence.

the green dress it is then.

the day is long and exhausting. considering that you arrived to the shop with the help of your friend's chauffeur, coming back home on foot was one hell of a task. you felt like the paper bag was carrying you, instead of you carrying it. your feet burn from the walking, and you can't wait to wash the sweat and humiliation off of you. you went from a thousand euro royal dream to a fifty euro eco trash bag. at least you have that dollar store green eye shadow you can use with it. how funny.

hot water drips down your body, fogging up the glass and trapping you in your little imagination bubble. your clit is begging for attention, reminding you of all the ways park seonghwa has touched you. his fingers skillfully rub your tense bud in ways that have you wondering if any of it is real. before you know it, you're clawing at the wet tiles as your other hand tries to desperately find the good spot inside of you. he finds so easily, why can't you? your fingers can't be much shorter than his.

half an hour of chasing an orgasm later, you give up. you've spent enough water, and your parents are going to kill you when they see the bill at the end of the month. it's all park seonghwa's fault. you can just mail him the bill and demand to pay. if you weren't so busy touching yourself to the thoughts of him, that wouldn't have happened.

defeated, you exit your room, somehow feeling more tired. you stop in your tracks. a black box sits on your bed, a yellow circle logo proudly shining on it.

"what the fuck?"

you reach for the box, touching the letters underneath the symbol. you don't open it yet, just in case this belongs to someone else.

"mom?!"

"yes?!"

"what is a versace doing in my room?"

"ah, your friend's chauffeur brought it over. said it was exclusively for you! bastard wouldn't let me peek."

that's all it takes for you to dive into the box like it was a new spicy book delivery. you make sure to leave the box intact, not wanting to rip something from such a luxury brand. a blood red gown sits in your hands, plush-like fabric melting down your fingers. it feels so luxurious, and expensive. it looks like something out of met gala, like it was ripped off of blake lively and given to you.

your phone pings, interrupting you from your little daydream session.

mr park: i think the blue is too calm for you. you need something fierce for a change. sorry if i overstepped. i just saw it when driving home and had to go back for it. not a word to my daughter.

you really didn't have to, sir.

mr park: i wanted to. you'll look lovely in it. and, please, have mercy and don't look at me tonight. i am a weak man.

your breath hitches. god, is he serious? just how fierce was this dress?

before you can examine it any further, the doors of your room opens, the familiar girl barging in with her little travel bag full of makeup and hair gadgets.

"whoa, slow down."

"no slowing, there's only three hours left until dad sends the chauffeur for us. god, what is that?"

"oh, it's uh-"

"vintage versace?! oh. my. god." she immediatelly pulls it out of the box, letting the empty carton fall on the floor carelessly.

"it's my moms, she dug it out after i came back home," you lie.

"i knew your mom is so cool."

park seonghwa really meant fierce when he said it. the red dress hugs your body like it was sewn on you, the leg slit high but hidden among the ruffles of the thick quality fabric. it is a corset dress, with offshoulder straps and a low cut. you don't feel exposed though. you feel like a queen.

"this fake ruby will go so good with that dress, trust me."

"oh, thank fuck, i thought it was real," you scoff, taking the big stone necklace and putting it on.

"why? think i can't afford it?"

"oh, no, no. apologies. you can totally afford a real ruby, miss." you joke, then glance at the clock.

just in time, a car pulls up to the entrance, the driver exiting to open the doors so they're ready for the two of you.

"shit, this is it. we're gonna get so wasted."

"isn't your dad gonna be there?"

"oh, he's not going to notice me when the headmaster gets him. poor woman is convinced that my dad wants her. some people just fail to realize that he just doesn't have the time for that. nor the will."

you feel like the sentence is targeting a little, but she doesn't spare you a glance as she sits in the car. the drive there is quiet, the clicking of her nails against the phone screen being the only noise in the small space. you glance at the small mirror of your hairbrush, checking your make-up again. you are feeling a little self-conscious, having never worn make-up this bold before. a winged eyeliner, heavy highlighter on your cheeks and inner eye corner, and a blood red lipstick. it's just a dance, wasn't this a little too formal?

one of your worst fears starts creeping into you, opening the doors of bottomless overthinking and migraines. what if you arrive overdressed, and everyone there is dressed in cute floral patterns and light spring dresses? while you are here looking like you've been dressed by donatella herself. and to think that park seonghwa saw the dress in the window of a store while just driving past it, and then went all the way back to get it and deliver it just for you, makes your stomach feel like fireworks.

to your relief, as you arrive in front of the building, you see that everyone else is equally extravagantly dressed. the dance wasn't at the college, but a place that park seonghwa himself has picked. it is a mansion just outside the city, with beautiful rose bushes, a stone path through the grass, and balconies to die for. it's like he knew how to make you stay longer than you planned on this dance.

"joshua!" you greet your partner as you enter the spacious room, surprised at the big change in his appearance.

"wow, don't you look luxurious. am i allowed to stand next to you?"

you playfully hit his shoulder, blushing at the comment. he turns to your friend, making small talk with her. you use the chance to glance around the room, in hopes of seeing the man of your dreams soon. you do not spot him, but you do spot a very familiar man. a man whose face you've seen on screen, and who has seen much more than your face on mr park's screen. your face instantly goes red, and your blood is boiling. you suddenly feel naked under his gaze, but he erases that feeling by smiling sweetly your way, and waving at you as a greeting. a complete opposite of that day.

"dad isn't answering my texts. i'm just gonna go find him to let him know i'm here."

you nod, then turn your attention back to joshua. to your surprise, he has left somewhere too, you just failed to acknowledge it. you are left alone among people who are already dancing, and you feel a little bored. with the dress in hand, so that you don't trip and make a fool of yourself already, you make your way towards one of the tables that stood near the walls.

you halt your steps, suddenly coming face to face with the man who had you wrapped around his finger. you don't mind. he fails to stop in time, accidentally bumping into you and almost making you fall back. his hands are quick to grab your waist, restoring your balance again. he doesn't immediately remove his hands. you don't mind that either.

"oh, mr park."

he doesn't speak. he takes a moment to look you up and down, and you do the same. he wears a white dress blouse, and his usual black slacks. the blouse is a little see-through, and you are taking in as much as you can while he busies himself staring at you.

"sir?" you call, suddenly remembering that your friend is searching for him, and that he has not yet removed his hands from you.

"god, you look ravishing." he groans.

"sir, your daughter might be-"

"i thought i had it under control. but now that you are here..." he trails, eyes dropping on your red lips. "i wish i could just-"

"seonghwa?"

the man turns around, and your waist suddenly feels cold and empty.

"dad?" another voice calls now behind you.

"sweetie?"

"mom?!"

you are shocked by the sight. a gorgeous woman, age similar to mr park, stands in front of the two of you. luscious locks fall over her shoulders and chest, and the royal blue dress you almost bought is overshadowing yours. it looks so much better on her.

"what the hell are you doing here?" mr park is calm, despite his harsh words.

"i am here to see my daughter. and talk to you."

"there's nothing left to talk about. i'm sure your husband would mind, anyway."

"seonghwa, please."

"dad, please." your friend begs, taking his hand and giving him her best big eyes.

he isn't a fool to fall for that. but he leaves with the woman anyway, because he knows just how stubborn they both are. the once married couple makes their way upstairs, and you can't help but stare until they disappear.

"it's rude to stare." your friend says, annoyed.

"oh, sorry. i must've zoned out."

"no, you didn't. you were staring at my dad."

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking at her confused. she rolls her eyes, then folds her arms across her chest.

"i'm not stupid. you think i didn't see how you threw yourself on him just a few minutes ago? acting like you're going to fall and shit, just so he could-"

"i swear it's not-"

"oh, shut the fuck up. putting your boobs out like that in that dress. is that even your dress? did your broke ass steal it?"

you are shocked by her sudden change in behaviour. you knew she had a problem with what happened between her father and you, but why did she decide to bring it up tonight? you have brought it up before, she assured you it is alright, and now that you really did not do anything, she is acting worse than before.

"it's not zara, bitch. it's versace. where the fuck did you get it? is it from me? because i can't keep track of all of my clothes, you thought you could just take it?"

you are grateful for the loud music, muting out her yelling. you see red. you know you are at wrong, but she picked the worst time to confront you. besides, it's not like you didn't talk about it at all. you thought it was all solved. guess not.

"your dad bought it for me." you spit out.

"what?"

"he thought i'd look hot in it." you press further.

"shut up."

"in fact, he just admitted that he wants to fuck me in it tonight."

"you're fucking delusional. he is getting back together with mom, don't you see? stop embarrassing yourself."

"you're telling me that your father would take back a cheater?"

her jaw drops. she knows it's true, but she has never heard you speak so freely. and she does not like that.

her hand reaches towards your hair, pulling at it, while the other one grabs a sleeve of your dress.

"stupid whore!" she curses, yanking at the necklace around your neck.

by now, people are starting to turn heads, slowly taking out their phones and recording.

"you are a shit friend, you know that? i've given you everything, and you go behind my back to fuck my dad? not once, but twice?"

"the fuck is your problem, i thought we solved this, you lunatic?!"

it gets on your nerves that you are taking this now that you really are innocent. you fight back, pushing her away from you and accidentally stepping on her dress, ripping it. everyone gasps, hands covering their mouths but phones still up in the air.

"you-" she breathes heavily, face red with rage. "you- you absolute slut! you whore!" she screams.

"that's enough." someone says next to you, before standing in between. "get up, you are making a fool of yourself. your drunk outbursts are hurting an innocent person."

"mr kim-" you start, ready to defend yourself.

"i'm not-!"

"come on," kim hongjoong helps the girl up, keeping her in a tight grip and guiding her outside the mansion. "phones away, everyone. show's over."

in the corner of your eye, you see park seonghwa rushing downstairs, followed by a woman in tears. by now, everyone went back to dancing, assuming that the girl was simply drunk and didn't know what she was saying. you are forever grateful to mr kim.

"what happened?" seonghwa grabs your shoulders, eyes skimming the ripped sleeve of the dress.

"your daughter happened." you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep tears from falling.

"oh, love, i'm so sorry."

"well, i kinda earned it."

mr park looks at you confused. you sigh, then slowly start walking towards one of the empty tables so that the dance floor can free up.

"she was saying some things and i intentionally pissed her off." you explain.

"what did she say?"

"that i intentionally threw myself on you, that i'm exposing my cleavage for you, and you know, that sort of stuff."

you cannot look him in the eyes. his gaze is too intense. his eyebrows are scrunched as he looks at you, and you aren't sure if he is mad with you or his daughter.

"and what did you say?"

you stay silent. you cannot fall any lower in his eyes. instead, you pour yourself a glass of wine, taking small sips of it. you absolutely hate alcohol, but in an awkward situation like this, you'll gladly drink the whole bottle if it means it'll get you out of the subject.

"do you wish to talk somewhere more private?" seonghwa suggests, making you choke back on the liquid.

"how private?" you ask before you can think.

the man chuckles, then offers his hand for you to take. you look around, making sure that the two women aren't around to see. mr kim has probably busied himself with taking care of mr park's daughter, and his ex must've left. she seemed pretty upset. you hate that the sight of her upset makes you happy.

park seonghwa leads you upstairs, much like his ex wife a few moments ago. he passes by a few doors in the hallway, until finally opening one. the interior is similar to the one in his library, only with a much bigger book selection. but he doesn't let you examine too much. he leads you to the balcony, which reminds you of the one from romeo and juliet. it looks like something from an old castle abandoned in the woods, with vines growing all over the old broken stone. the manor is surrounded by a light forest, just a few minutes away from the city, but the view from the balcony makes it seem like it is in the middle of a fantasy field. there is no light pollution, therefore you are able to see millions of shiny dots up in the sky. before you can keep gazing, mr park rests his hands on your waist, turning you around so that your back rests against the stone fence.

"sir?" you ask, hoping he would say something that you'll have an answer to.

"i was right. red is your colour."

his finger brushes over your red lips, then continues down your jawline, the neck bones, and to the cutout of the dress. he caresses the skin above the material, mere millimeters away. you are shivering, despite the pleasant weather tonight. you look into his eyes, bite down your lip when you see how focused he is in his moves.

"now that it's ripped off anyway, i'd love nothing more than to shred it to bits, just to see you again."

"but, you said-" you try reminding him of his message. he is very confusing to you.

"i know what i said. i can't help it." he steps closer to you, face inches away from yours. "i dream of devouring you in this dress."

his hand takes the wine glass from yours, lips pressing against it to take a sip. he looks deep into your eyes while he does so, faint glint getting you more riled up. you feel yourself dripping through the thin material of the thin lace thongs you wore, and it feels like he can feel it too somehow.

the glass is set on the fence now, a safe distance from both of you. you think he will finally speak again, but the man has other plans. his main plan seems to make you fall into his arms tonight, and it is working. his hands cup your face, and he presses his lips against yours. your hands are gripping the cold stone, not knowing what to do from the sudden explosion of emotions. carefully, park seonghwa pours the wine from his mouth into yours, sensually kissing you along the way.

aside from it being the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to you, you are also happy that you didn't spill any of it. you swallow, and when you try to move away to catch a breath, he only deepens the kiss, your face still in his palms. he tugs on your lips, biting them gently, sucking them, swiping his tongue along them, with a satisfying rhythm. you can't help but whine into his mouth, a certain part of you wishing for more friction.

"all you have to do is say the words, doll." he says, voice deep and almost a whisper.

"what words?" you ask, stupidly.

"any words. anything that will give me a green light." he answers, eyes searching yours for any kind of signal.

you think, for a short time that to seonghwa seemed like years.

"take me. here. on this balcony."

seonghwa groans, and leans in again to give attention to your lips. his hands roam your body, mainly focusing on your waist and thighs. he grabs your flesh through the fabric, squeezing it with desire as his tongue hungrily chases yours, not getting enough of it no matter how much he gets.

he pulls away too fast for your liking, and before you can whine again, he drops down on his knees. his perfectly polished shoes are forgotten as they suffer scratches from the floor, and his perfectly ironed black pants will soon meet a similar fate.

"hold this for me, pretty?" he asks, handing you the bottom of your dress.

you are caught off by the sudden situation, yet your body responds immediately and takes the fabric from him. you can barely see him from the red ruffles, but you can definitely feel the hot wet muscle licking through the thin lace of your underwear. you sigh, your head falling back at the hot sensation on your clit.

"don't hold back, please. i want to hear you."

you feel uneasy, but the moment he pushes your panties aside and attaches his lips to your core, you do not care. you whine, breathe heavily, moan, pull at his hair in ecstasy. you love the thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in and the first thing they'd see is the two of you doing sinful things in the moonlight. bet they'd love the sight, too.

"fuck, sir-" you gasp, feeling him sucking on your sensitive bud.

"fuck, i love it when you call me sir. call me more names, darling, i beg you."

"m-make me," you choke out, feeling his finger sliding between your walls.

he scoffs, playfully tugging on your covered nipple as he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. he does it slowly, making sure to brush against the sensitive spot but not give it complete attention. just enough to keep you on the edge.

"oh, i'll make you. don't you worry." he promises.

his hands grab your thighs, almost raising your body from the ground, so that he could eat you out properly. you have the urge to close your legs, but his hands are firm and keep them open. you shake against his restless tongue, hoping to release soon.

"mr. park- please- please-" you beg, choking back tears.

you do not know why you tear up in sexual situations with him. from the pleasure? from the pain of edging? from knowing that this might be the last time you're doing it?

as soon as he hears your voice shaking, mr park stands up, making sure that it really is what he thinks it is. without a word, he kisses you again, lips wet with your arousal. he keeps fingering you, knuckles disappearing between your folds and deliciously preparing you for him.

"turn around for me, little girl."

his words shoot arrows to your core, and it takes a lot of strength in you to do as he says. his fingers find their place right under your jaw, softly pressing into your neck and making it difficult for you to stay sober. he releases every now and then, just enough to let you breathe properly. his other hand moves the back of your dress, giving it to you to hold onto, and then raises your leg so that it rests on the fence. you are now standing on one leg, wet core completely exposed to the cool night air and him.

"good girl," he praises, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "so flexible for me."

you hear a zipper, then clothes ruffling. you breathe out when you feel something smooth and hot rubbing up and down your folds, not yet entering. your head drops from the dizziness of his playful choking, and your eyes widen when you finally see the rest of the view from the balcony.

down there, in the garden behind the manor, there are three benches and a fountain. and on one of the benches, his ex wife. she seems to notice you at the same time you notice her, judging by her sudden jaw drop and widened eyes. you don't get to warn him, as you are interrupted by your own gasp caused by his hot muscle pushing inside your tights walls. he wastes no time in thrusting into you, quickly catching a rhythm while simultaneously pulling your hair with his other hand. at this point, it is more you thrusting back into him than he is thrusting forwards into you. you need his every inch, no matter how fucked up the situation at the moment is.

you can't help it, you look at the poor woman in the eyes, moaning as her ex husband is tearing you apart on the balcony of their once shared holiday manor.

"louder," he growls, speeding up his movements.

and you do it. you moan, louder, not on purpose, but because it really feels that good.

"fuck, your cunt is made for me."

"da-daddy-" you test the grounds, and he halts his movements.

shit, you fucked up.

"what?" he says, out of breath.

"nothing-" you gasp, his fingers pressing into your neck, "daddy, i said daddy-"

you are interrupted by a moan again, as he begins thrusting harder. the woman is on the verge of tears, and even though you feel a little bad, the feeling of her husband's cock filling you up feels too good. you also remember the reason they parted. she did the same with another man. you allow yourself a moment of braveness, already having said goodbye to the friendship with their daughter.

you smile down at the woman, then reach behind to grab mr park's hair. you moan, loud and clear, more for her to hear. the man groans, burying his head into your shoulder and biting down, making you gasp and close your eyes in pain. his hand rests on your lower back, making you arch it just a bit more so he can finally hit the spot you both need.

you open your eyes, only to find her still standing there in disbelief and shock. she is disgusted with you, and heartbroken by him. and you do not care.

"mr. park, you're too big for me-" you choke out.

he slows his movements, then raises his head from your shoulder. he admires the bruise he has created for a moment, then follows your gaze down to the benches. upon seeing his ex wife, you expect him to stop. but he only does so for a moment, before yanking down the fabric on your chest and exposing your breasts. he continues diving into you, softly panting into your ear and driving you insane.

the woman seems too stunned to even move. it is clear she is not enjoying it, she isn't a voyeour.

"you're taking me so well, doll. you should see how abused your pretty pussy looks, begging me to cum all over it and inside it." he growls, then grabs your jaw so that he can look at you.

his eyebrows are scrunched, focused on the approaching orgasm.

"moan for me more, baby, please. you sound majestic."

unable to hold back, you moan into his mouth, hips thrusting back in a desperate attempt to reach the orgasm. it is building up inside of you for so long, threatening to overflow any moment now. but he has complete control over the rhythm, and the moment you start moving too, he chokes you just a little harder.

"sir, please, sir, let me cum- i want to cum on your dick so, so bad," you say everything that is on your mind. he enjoys seeing you vulnerable in his hands, and slows down the pace just to hear you some more.

"you want to cream on daddy's cock, little girl? you want me to fill you up all the way, to have you walk with my cum inside your abused little hole the entire night? have my daughter apologize to you as you desperately try to keep my seed from spilling down your legs?"

"mr park-"

"yes, angel."

"sir-"

"just a bit more, doll."

"seonghwa-" you scream, and he is quick to press his lips on yours to calm you down.

feeling your walls squeeze from the waves of the orgasm, you take him over the edge, his seed painting your walls and making it easier for him to ride his own orgasm out. your body shakes from the intense pleasure, and from the sudden rush of cold air on your bare arms. mr park is quick to release your neck, and wrap his arms around you and press your body against his chest. he kisses you sweetly, simultaneously rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. his cock twitches inside of you, and he is still slowly thrusting in and out, riding out the rest of the orgasm.

you breathe heavily into his mouth, legs going limp and threatening to become numb any second. he finally helps you set your leg down, and slowly pulls out of you. hot seed spills out of your hole and down your leg, and you are scared that it will stain the dress.

"do you trust me?"

"huh?"

"do you trust me?" he repeats himself, guiding you so that your body is facing him again.

"well, yes, i- oh!"

he picks you up by your waist, so that you can sit on the stone fence. it is wide enough for you to sit comfortably, but if you could choose not to, you would. his hands are holding you firmly, and his eyes tell you he isn't letting go.

"this dress looks gorgeous on you, but it is in my way the whole evening," he huffs, flipping the dress once more.

"no, i'm too sensitive-" you try to stop him, but he hushes you.

"trust. me."

he doesn't touch your clit. he doesn't try to finger you. instead, he collects the white streak that has started the journey down your thigh, pushing it back into your hole. you feel yourself becoming wet again, horny and angry butterflies raving in your stomach. he uses his two fingers to gently push all of his seed inside you again, and he looks up at you with deadly eyes. you recognize the lust once again, and you almost moan at the sight. "now, let's go find my daughter to get your apology." “no!” you protest, panic swallowing you.

“relax. she will say no, I will be mad at her, and she will then ask to go with her mother.”

you try to follow, but you can’t. why is he so careless about his daughter choosing his ex wife over him? he seems to realise your confusion, and laughs fondly.

“that way, nothing can stop us doing this any time and anywhere. and, I can finally make that dinner reservation at the new restaurant. been dying to try it with you.”

“but, I don’t have any money. I cannot pay my share.”

park seonghwa chuckles, then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. you feel all fuzzy and warm, feet swinging under the dress from the simple act.

“I’ll gladly be your sugar daddy. just the more romantic and relationship type of sugar daddy.”

oh.

“what do you say?”

“I say your cum is ready to be washed out so I better go fetch my apology.”

“good girl.”

taglist for this series

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @atinism @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rkivesofmymemories @i-love-ateez @bangmechann @dandelion-aj @rialovesyunho @bellamuerte1987 @livingdeadlisa @jen176pink @yeosxxx @az-con @313hwa @btsreader12 @dafodillhwa @enhypemen @perfetlysane24 @linoriii @likexaxdaydream @yeosangsbbg @starbvrryhwa @riboism

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millienia · 2 months

Text

a thousand faces in a thousand places

synopsis: the housewardens with a Sparkle (from honkai: star rail) reader. (headcanons)

gn!reader + reader is not yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

uhm! 😨 (scared)

there is not a single universe where this man, pre-overblot, did not hate you.

so, how did you two meet? considering your mysterious, yet still childish personality- you probably got sorted into heartslabyul!

you’re basically like alice but.. so. much. worse.

pre-overblot he’d, most likely, be very cross with you.

do you know how many times you’ve been off-with-your-head-ed? because it’s happened a LOT. and i mean, a lot a lot.

you were in and out of everywhere, were rather cryptic, and had a strong mischievous streak.

how could he NOT be annoyed? smh.

though, post-overblot, i think he’d be more relaxed.

of course, he’d still be exasperated, but not to the level of annoyance he had before. progress, woop woop !!!

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

i am still scared. not for you, but for leona.

he’d be annoyed, i suppose. you’re like a creepy, more out there, more literally insane version of ruggie.

so, how did you two meet? it’s similar to how yuu and the lion met, actually. except.. there’s kind of a difference.

whereas yuu stepped on his tail (by accident!), causing leona to go “ooh i’m gonna eat you” like a shark on steroids, YOU were the one who.. tried to eat him.

picture this, leona sleeping on the botanical garden, you seeing his tail and immediately going

how romantic a meeting! be still, my heart! meetcute who?

you immediately started laughing hysterically when his startled awake gaze met your terribly amused eyes, so the impression you left to him.. eh.

you probably started a “Call Leona ‘Unca Weona’” trend on MagiTok (that cater undoubtedly joined in on), so he’s probably pretty annoyed at you.

— you’ve also probably used his money to fund some performances.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

“you have bewitched me body and soul. 🤩” “HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE”

he’s probably mildly terrified of you and your absolutely horrendous schemes.

so, how did this lovely pair meet? WELL.

azul, doing paperwork in his office or whatever he does, looking like he sniffs lint, jolts when jade enters abruptly.

it’s unlike the eel’s usual respectful manner, so he’s pretty confused, immediately going “what is it?”

a sheepish jade smiles awkwardly and goes to say something like, “blah blah vanished into thin air before they could pay.”

azul is BEWILDERED. vanished??

so, obviously, righteously wanting his money, he tells jade and floyd to go look for you.

they did not find you.

fun.

KALIM AL-ASIM

he has a new bestie now!

you two are great friends, your chaotic (one more so than the other) tendencies and fun-loving personalities make you a great pair.

jamil would say otherwise.

you two go on happy little excursions around the campus, terrorizing a few people here and there, and honestly just having the time of your lives.

he was so glad you weren’t his friend just for his wealth, but because you liked his personality as he liked yours.

though, you, as someone who can only have their interest piqued by amusement, didn’t understand why he’d think you were using him.

you wear the most stupid matching shirts (that kalim bought and jamil tacitly approved) and walk around, happily playing and leaving only destruction in your wake.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

you’re fashionable, he likes you.

with your skill in acting, you’re probably in the film studies club, which is most likely how you two met.

he admires your.. cough, dedication. and he also thinks your personality is a bit (is it?👀).

“your dedication to being you is admirable.” “hehe thanks but wtf🥰”

as literally everyone is, kalim not included, he’s pretty exasperated by your chaos-causing tendencies and unhinged personality.

illusion magic is your jam, so just imagine how shocked he was when looking into his mirror and seeing your evilly-grinning visage instead of his own face.

(rook approves.)

talking about rook, a curious vil had asked the hunter to.. stalk you for a while, because he was confused if you were really the person you portrayed yourself as.

a laughing rook gave the report that you had found him out and asked if he was close to his housewarden because he stripped himself naked and apologized for his crime of liking neige.

vil is flabbergasted.

IDIA SHROUD

on one hand, he’s terrified, and on the other- he thinks you’re funny.

you come up with the most unhinged insults, and you always get the last word- he thinks you’re admirable.

your level of extrovertness is shocking to him.

first kalim, now you? he is Shaking His Head™.

how you first met doesn’t matter, what matters is what he accidentally said when first meeting you and having a good short chat.

“mesugaki..” he mumbled in the middle of your sentence.

your ears were good. his ears were working well enough to hear his own damn self.

he wants to cry. he wants to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it.

“hikikomori.” you immediately responded.

critical hit! idia will have to stay inside his room for three weeks, tell ortho he loves him..

you’d say you two get along well, idia would say otherwise.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he enjoys your rambunctious personality. he’s normally chilling quietly in the corner, so having you drag him around probably does wonders for how people see him.

he approves (sebek does NOT).

he’s sometimes concerned. he knows humans don’t live long, will you Doing What You Do somehow make your lifespan even shorter?

you’re just being you and he’s standing menacingly right beside you. imagine how that looks to other people.

your local terrorist gremlin and THE malleus draconia. standing next to eachother. chilling.

you probably call him “that guy with the horns”, or something more animal aligned.

like “ram horns boy”.

lilia probably laughed at it, silver didn’t know if he should’ve felt offended for malleus or if it was a friendly joke, and sebek is going to use it as a horror story for the future generations of his family.

you’re just causing chaos and he’s there like 🧍😄

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tastesousweet · 16 days

Text

⭒ blurb : “if a girl walks up to you …”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannon/blurb based on the tiktok trend “if a girl walks up to you and flirts what are you doing?”

mickey speaks : randomly had this thought tdy & hamzah has been on my mind lately soooo this one’s for my slushy girls 💐 PRETTY FLUFFY (but i hope it’s not like … cringy instead of cute)

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you’re both fully in pajamas, tucked and wrapped in each other’s arms when you come across the tiktok trend that has flooded your for you page as of late

hamzah’s naturally aloof (due to a long day spent with you and it currently being almost 1 AM) and unfocused as he fights sleep while watching his tenth episode of teen titans.

so when you quickly unravel yourself from him and move across the room, adjusting your low hanging sweatpants accordingly, he’s dumbfounded and asking you what you’re doing and why you’re leaving him.

“you’re so dramatic, can you come here? i wanna do something”

“insulting me and asking a favor in the same sentence…” he sighs then pauses with a hand closed over his mouth, muffling “wow.”

literally and metaphorically tugging his arm to get him to participate but he’s adamant on knowing what exactly he’s getting up for

when he’s almost out of bed you tell him it’s “this tiktok thing” and he exaggerates a “NOOOO” and releases all of his weight so that he falls back on the bed and you practically fall with him due to your connected hands

of course he’s eventually convinced with a few kisses

hamzah fiddles with your hand while listening to you explain: “okay, pretend im not here and some girl comes up to you at target.”

he just stands in the center of the frame looking around the room as you walk away then return in character

you approach obnoxiously and begin some surface level flirting “hey good looking”

“you can back up a little bit,” he looks you up and down

“pause- did you just check her out???”

“no? you know there was definitely some judgement there.”

“sure ok, resume… now.” you play with your hair, “what’s someone as cute as you doing in a place like this?”

“bruh, we’re at a target” hamzah laughs through his words

you stop your role again, “and why are you taking time to respond to her?!”

“oh kill me for being distracted! you couldn’t have hired an ugly actress?”

you look up at him with squinted eyes, “you need to learn to resist the hot girls too!”

“i’m tryingggg!!!!” he rubs his eye harshly, “restart, restart.”

it cuts to a clip of you two acting once more

“yeah, we both loooveee target we’re, like, so alike,” you go to grab his arm and he turns completely away from you

“ok, and i have a girlfriend” he pretends to grab something off of a shelf

“that doesn’t matter if i don’t see her…”

you continue pestering so he resorts to plugging his ears with his fingers and talking over you, repeating that he has a girlfriend

eventually he turns back to face you and yells “OH MY GOD GIRL, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!” right into your smiley face.

he then fully manhandles you over his shoulder and spins you around before dropping you onto the plushness of your shared bed

he doesn’t even look to check on you (you’re outrageously laughing and yelling “it hurts!” in regards to your poor stomach cramping)

he runs to grab your phone from the desk while recording himself in faux panic, “guys, you can’t tell y/n i just beat up a woman please, please, pl- AHHH”

he and the video are cut off by you jumping on his back and attacking his cheek with kisses through your loud giggles.

you cuddle in bed again after turning off the lights and hamzah rewatches it for a third time since you’ve posted it to your spam account (everytime it’s over he says, “no, that was actually pretty funny.”)

by the morning it has thousands of likes and plenty of comments either full of love for the two of you together or calling hamzah the funniest man in the world (they’re just like u fr!)

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #slushy virus #thatmartinkid #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic fanfic

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youryanderedaddy · 4 months

Text

tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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janeyseymour · 2 months

Note

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes.

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making.

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

“The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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nohaijiachi · 8 months

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I've been seeing just about all moments of GO S2 being put under a microscope and absolutely dissected frame by frame

And still I am yet to see anyone mention a moment that might be small in the grand scheme of things, perhaps not as character defining as many other that have been (rightfully) analyzed a thousand times over, but which was *so* important to me, and every single time I watch it I'm just filled with so many feelings and jhaghagha

(putting this under a read more to not spam y'all with a ginormous post clogging your dashes)

The moment in question is this (my apologies for the pics, I currently don't have a proper way to take screenshots of S2 and had to snap photos of my tv screen lol)

It's such a quick moment, a small blip in the entirety of episode 5, but let me tell you why it absolutely destroys my heart every single time.

First of all let's refresh our memory on Aziraphale's relationship with Heaven and Gabriel specifically, shall we?

The very first time we see Gabriel in S1, he surprises Aziraphale at a sushi restaurant. Aziraphale looks to his left, because that's the side where Crowley usually appears when approaching him, but instead of his boyfriend the familiar Demon, he sees the reflection of Gabriel at his other side, and he turns around with what reads to me as very much an "oh shit" expression.

In episode 2 we see Gabriel again, along with Sandalphon; they are flanking Aziraphale and leaving him no way to escape in what to me seems a blatant intimidation tactic, especially with Gabriel being all "hey you remember Sandalphon, right :)" and Aziraphale being like "Oh yeah, likes smiting and turning people into salt, I sure do! *nervous laugh". There's literally no reason for them to be acting like this if not to (un)subtly remind Aziraphale what his place is, and that he is NOT safe, not even in his bookshop.

Whenever we see Aziraphale in Heaven he is constantly standing ramrod straight, hands kept caged behind him, none of his usual mannerism to be seen. He always smiles like a hare being stared at by a hawk and the cinematography very much underlines that tenseness by both showing the impossible, cold and sterile expanse of Heaven in contrast to the camera being shoved right in the characters' face to make the viewer feel just as uncomfortable as Aziraphale is.

When Gabriel and Aziraphale speak in the park there's this moment after it looks like Gabriel is leaving, but he pops right back up in Aziraphale's space in an instant, causing the reaction we see in these screenshots. Aziraphale is clearly taken aback and tense, eyes widening which is like, fair considering Gabriel pretty much jump scared him, but that's rather the point, isn't it? Gabriel pretty much jump scared him. He didn't just turn around and jog back to Aziraphale to ask him about the sword, he purposefully moved himself up to him without any warning. Like sheesh, talk about terrifying bosses.

No Gabriel here, but just another example of how much Aziraphale does NOT like being in Heaven. When he gets discorporated and finally manages to stand up for himself, saying he refuses to fight a war, he still looks like *this*. Like he's one step away from just discorporating a second time and without an actual body out of sheer anxiety.

When all it's said and done at the Tadfield airbase and the four horsemen are gone, Gabriel and Beelzebub decide to go check what the heck is going on, at which point Aziraphale pretty much seems to be bracing himself, straightening his back, adjusting his clothes nervously and then holding his hand in front of him in a show of dignified quietness I definitely read as him doing his best to hide just how anxious he truly is.

Of course we don't see Aziraphale's reaction at being told to shut his stupid mouth and die already by Gabriel due to the body swap, and at this point is pretty safe to say Crowley has never shared with Aziraphale that little tidbit of information, but even not knowing the extent of the cruelty Gabriel showed toward him at the end, he still knows that Gabriel and, by extension, Heaven was more than willing and ready to murder him.

Even at the start of S2, when an amnesiac Gabriel arrives at the bookshop and then hugs him (awkwaaaard), Aziraphale looks like he's entirely frozen and unable to react to the improbability of what is happening, and when Gabriel asks him if he can go inside the bookshop Aziraphale's immediate reaction is to pretty much recoil with an immediate "No!".

Of course he is then forced to let him in because there's a naked man on his steps while the whole neighborhood is watching, and we get some many more little moments of Aziraphale anxiety emerging through his body language: The pacing, the way he sits ramrod straight in front of Gabriel, and him literally backing away multiple steps when Gabriel asks him "You know how it's like, when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything will be better if you were just near one particular person?"

(Because of course Aziraphale knows how that feels, and that's exactly the same reason why he's been so scared of Heaven for-fucking-ever!) (Also as an aside let me just bless Michael 'Acting Choices' Sheen for that smile that lasts a shard of a second after Gabriel asks that. You can pretty much see the word "CROWLEY" stamped in big bold letters on his forehead in that moment lmao)

(Also as an aside to the aside. Jon Hamm is just fantastic. Gabriel comes across as such an asshole in S1, but Amnesiac!Gabriel is a fucking cinnamon roll and he pulls it off so well ajahjahja)

Then of course we get the whole exchange about the 'something terrible' that sends Aziraphale into more anxious frenzy until another tiny, kinda overlooked moment hits us in the shins, in which Gabriel says "You're funny. I love you." And like, can't blame anybody for not looking at that moment without much thought, I know that that sentence had me crying laughing multiple times on multiple rewatches, but also... God, you can see the way some of that fear instantly leaves Aziraphale, the way he relaxes ever so slightly and ??? Aziraphale??? Is that all you need to instantly start trusting someone who wanted you dead? Who treated you like shit for who knows how long? (Why am I even asking this, of course that'd be enough, it's Aziraphale we're talking about, here.) Then of course the rest of season 2, he and Crowley having a row about what to do with Gabriel with Aziraphale insisting that he needs them, as his friends, yada yada, we get back to the initial moment that sparked this post.

We get there, Aziraphale's (eldritch) Ball and the romantic moment he's been working himself up for ruined, murderous Demons at his steps putting both he and all the humans inside in peril, and all he would need to do to avoid any harm coming to them is to give Gabriel up, and... "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will." Not just the words, but the way Aziraphale says them; voice lowered and serious, that hint of hesitation and fear at the start that melts away into full blown confidence at the 'And I will'.

It isn't just Aziraphale being scared by Gabriel mentioning the 'something terrible' at the beginning, nor the brief moments of cryptic recollection that he witnesses Gabriel going through-- It's that Aziraphale sincerely accepted to protect him, and he wasn't going to give that up. He is a Guardian and a Principality, after all.

And like, I see this and how am I supposed not to get my heart utterly shattered by it? If Aziraphale had rejected Gabriel, or treated him unkindly in any way, I hardly doubt anybody would be hard pressed to say Aziraphale did not have the right to do so, not after the way he's been treated by Gabriel and Heaven his whole life. But he doesn't. He is kind to him, if a tad long-suffering at times. The protection he extended over Gabriel is utterly sincere and unwavering.

And ngggggggh I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just. Love Aziraphale so much. Stupid, clever, anxious, brave man-shaped thing that he is, recklessly throwing himself into the line of fire for somebody that, by any means, did not have any right to ask something of that magnitude from him. He is my scrungly, and by God am I ever so excited to see how everything will play out in season 3. I want him to fully grasp that bravery and raise absolute -metaphorical- hell with it. Shine bright, you crazy bastard.

#good omens #aziraphale #meta #i suppose #idk i just wanted to throw my two cents and talk about this specific moment #cuz it gives me ALL of the feels #my angel blorbo ilu

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months

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Like Father, Like Daughter

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam & niece!reader, Castiel & reader (platonic)

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: set during 15x08 (only loosely follows canon), Chuck threatens you when Team Free Will gets too nosey.

“Let this one go.”

“Or what?”

“Or I go all powerful.” Chuck—through Donatello—had dropped any friendly bravado, and his tone said it all; he meant business. “Maybe not on you, not right away. But let’s see, there’s…Jody, Donna.” Chuck turned his eyes to Sam. “Eileen…” Chuck’s gaze then went straight to Dean. “Y/N, your precious little girl. Pretty much everyone on your speed dial. So drop it. ‘Kay?”

And he was gone.

…

“Dean, I’m sure she’s—“

“She won’t answer her phone,” Dean frantically called you again and again, but no answer came.

“Dean,” Cas tried to reason with him. “She’s on a hunt, she’s probably just—“

“I knew I shouldn’t have sent her out there!” Dean growled. “She’s not even ready for a solo hunt, much less Chuck!”

“He won’t do anything yet,” Sam said. “He’s giving us the chance to back off.”

“Unless he wants to send a message,” Dean argued.

Cas and Sam had nothing to say to that.

…

“She should’ve been back by now.” Dean hadn’t left the front room of the bunker, and his gaze never left the door. He’d tried to call you countless times, and texted you even more.

“She’s gonna be ok,” Sam clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Dean didn’t say anything, but Sam’s presence seemed to help slightly.

Dean was out of his chair like he’d been shot by a cannon the moment the door to the bunker opened. Your voice could be heard as soon as you entered.

“Guys, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever—hey!” You jumped in surprise when Dean all but tackled you into a hug. “Dad, you ok?”

“Am I ok?” Dean pulled away, suddenly annoyed. “I’ve called you a thousand times!”

“Oh, that,” you cringed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone…

Which was snapped in half.

“Yeah, vamp really did a number on it. But I mean, I’m only a few minutes late.”

Dean didn’t respond, he just pulled you back into his arms.

“You’re never going on a solo hunt again.”

You didn’t argue; there was no arguing with Dean when he got like this.

“What exactly happened while I was gone?” You questioned.

“Chuck,” Sam sighed, and when Dean finally pulled away from you Sam wrapped you in his arms. “He threatened you. I’m glad you’re ok.”

“So…you guys are getting close to an answer?” You theorized. “He wouldn’t be threatening us if you weren’t close.”

“I guess,” Sam said, pulling away.

“Ok then. Let’s keep going!”

“Kid, he could kill you!” Dean argued.

“And if he gets bored of us, he could kill us all,” you scoffed. “So I’m not gonna give up just because he got a little angry. Let’s keep looking.”

Dean shook his head as you walked further into the bunker and disappeared into your room.

“That kid has a death wish,” he sighed.

Sam just smirked.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Where do you think she got it?”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #spn sam winchester #sam winchester x niece!reader

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cuubism · 3 months

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Rock Paper Scissors

Dreamling | Pre-Slash | 5.7k | AO3

Dream suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead." "Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me." "I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds." "Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

Hob gets challenged to a duel. Too bad his opponent has it out for Dream, and has no intention of playing fair.

the first fic I ever started writing for Dreamling a year and a half ago, then forgot about! 😂 then randomly decided to finish.

“ROBERT GADLING,” yelled an individual Hob had never met before in his life, “I hereby challenge you to a duel!”

Hob squinted at him. Said individual was standing across the darkened street, dressed strangely in a white tunic flecked with gold. Then again, Hob’s barometer for strange was a bit different than what was normal, so who was he to say, really.

“What?” he said.

Suddenly this person was much closer to him. Hob flinched back, but couldn’t move much, close as he was to the pub door. “We have business,” hissed his pale-suited challenger. It was a masculine figure, blond hair swished to one side, eyes like fire.

Hob wasn’t impressed. He’d seen worse. Better, too.

“Listen, mate,” he said, “I don’t really have time for this. I’ve already got something on the books tonight. Come back tomorrow.”

He started to walk through the doorway, but the… creature?—he didn’t think it was human—grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We have business,” it repeated.

Hob tried to shake off its hand, but its grip was like hot iron. It seared through his jacket and burned his skin.

“What business?” he snapped. “I’m certain we’ve never met before, and my memory is actually pretty good, long as it is.”

The creature smiled, more like a baring of teeth. “You have courted those who have harmed me—and my ilk.”

“Not clearing it up at all.”

There was a sound like the swishing of a thousand ghosts, and then Dream was beside him.

Dream. How strange, still, to have a name, a history—well, sort of—to put to the face he’d circled back to over and over again for all these years. The name cut his friend into sharp relief—Hob’s shadow, finally united with the being who cast it.

Where the pale stranger burned white-hot, Dream emanated cold. Hob had always found his friend’s cold aura strangely comforting. It didn’t feel dangerous and biting like the winter wind. Instead, it was the cold of lake water when one dove deep enough, a subtle and quiet draw to the otherworldly.

Well. Usually it didn’t feel dangerous. Right now, it felt positively hypothermic.

Dream’s presence chilled the air until the stranger was forced to yank his hand away from Hob’s arm, shaking it out with a hiss. Hob’s breath fogged the air in front of his face, never mind that it was summer.

“Phaethon,” Dream hissed on one long, cold breath. “You are not wanted here.”

Phaethon pulled himself up haughtily. “I can go as I please. Night, or no night.”

“You may test that theory if you wish.”

Phaethon faltered, just a bit, before recovering himself. “I am here only to deliver a message. I challenge you, Robert Gadling, to a duel.” His blazing eyes flickered over to Hob, then back to Dream. “I did not believe you were one to violate the old rules of challenge, Lord of Dreams.”

He bowed slightly. It felt mocking, which rankled Hob, who’d otherwise been keeping his cool.

“Are you going to explain what this is about?” he said, for the third time. “I don’t appreciate being accused of things I haven’t done.”

Instead of answering, Phaethon said, “I’ve uncovered your history. There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there? I wager it could make quite a bit of trouble for you, having all of that information turned over to certain parties. Human authorities. Occultists. Vampire hunters, they’ll love you–”

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we can do that, or, you can choose to face me directly.”

“What do you seek to gain from the challenge?” demanded Dream. He seemed to know more about what was going on here than Hob, which wasn’t comforting. Hob didn’t particularly want to get drawn into some kind of immortal creature game with obscure rules he’d end up tripping over.

Phaethon’s grin emerged one tooth at a time. “I want… your dreams.”

Hob probably should have been more troubled by this. Instead, he just frowned in confusion. “Not sure that’s in your power, mate. You’re aware who you’re talking to?”

He didn’t need to gesture to Dream looming over his shoulder.

“If you agree to the terms,” said Phaethon, a hiss like lava dripping over stone, “then the magic will bind us.”

Dream didn’t contradict him, but his anger cooled the air until Hob felt like he was standing atop a glacier.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hob told Phaethon. “Feel free to try to reveal me. I’m good at disappearing.”

He turned to go—

“Lord Morpheus.” Phaethon turned the beam of his gaze on him, sunlight ricocheting off ice. “Will you stand in his stead?”

Hob grit his teeth and, against his better judgment, turned back around. “Don’t bring him into this. Look, if I win your challenge, what do I get in return?”

“You may request whatever you like,” said Dream. “Such are the terms of the agreement.”

“Fine. If I win, then I want this: you never speak to or of me again. That means no threatening me, no using me to threaten anyone else, no telling anyone about me—nothing. Got it?” God, Hob just wanted to go inside and have a beer.

Phaethon gave him a little bow. “Fair enough. I accept the terms of this challenge.”

Dream seemed aggravated; a trickle of energy, like black lightning, scurried up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hair. But he didn’t intervene.

Hob and Phaethon shook on it. Then Phaethon retreated into the shadows again, calling, “Tomorrow at midnight, Robert Gadling. I will see you then.” Then his eyes blinked out and he was gone.

Hob shuddered. Good riddance. He rather preferred his eldritch creature to that one, thanks very much.

“What was that?” he said.

Dream’s presence was warming again by small degrees. The atmosphere was now more like an industrial freezer than Antarctica. “A minor demigod.”

“Oh, minor. Alright then.”

“They are occupied by petty troubles,” said Dream.

Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but elected not to comment.

“Come on,” he said instead, leading the way back toward the pub. “We’re supposed to be having an easy night of it, dammit!” He wasn’t about to let some minor demigod ruin his night. He never knew how many of them he would get with his friend.

Dream’s gaze lingered on the spot where Phaethon had disappeared, but eventually, like the sweeping of a long coat tail, he followed.

---

"So, a duel," Hob remarked as they sat down across from each other in the pub booth. "I admit, I haven't dueled anyone in a few centuries, but I can't imagine it'll be—”

"It is not what you are thinking of," Dream interrupted. He had folded himself into the booth seat like a stick insect trying to cram itself in a jar. It was an absurd image, the long black coat, the spindly arms on the tabletop. "It is not a fight of the physical form. It is a battle of the mind and will."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

"In such a challenge—” Dream began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, there to take their order.

"So, what can I get for you chaps?" she said brightly.

The idea of Dream being a chap was so hilarious Hob had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, maybe he wasn't taking the whole duel thing seriously enough. Oh well.

Hob ordered a beer and a plate of chips. When Dream showed no sign of speaking, he ordered for him, too.

“You can order whatever you like,” Hob told him, when the waitress had gone. “It is my pub and all.”

Dream picked up the laminated menu gingerly. It wobbled in his hands. He looked down at it with a flat expression.

Hob realized belatedly that he probably didn’t know what to order. How much had pub food changed since— God, 1910 or so? And it wasn’t like his friend would have had much time to peruse menus since, what with all he’d been up to.

“Just try the chips,” Hob said, taking the menu away from him. “We’ll see how far that gets you.”

"I have no need of human food," Dream said, folding his hands back on the table.

“Sure, and I technically don’t need my left leg, either, but I do rather like having it.”

“You say strange things,” Dream murmured. “As I was telling you. In such a challenge—”

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dream glowered at her. Hob thanked her brightly.

"So, you were saying?" he said, sipping his beer. "In such a challenge…?"

"In such a challenge—”

The waitress arrived again with their chips. Dream slammed his hands on the table, shaking the chips in their basket and making the waitress jump.

"Sorry," Hob apologized, "we've had a bit of a day." Wasn't it always.

"In such a challenge," Dream continued when she had gone, in a tone that suggested he would not be stopped this time, "one must suggest a mind-form, which one's opponent will attempt to surmount and defeat. Then you attempt to defeat their new form, and so on until one challenger is victorious. It is… a predictive game, of sorts. If one can predict what one's opponent’s moves might be, one can choose forms to foil them. This can easily become complicated."

"So, it's like chess," Hob summarized.

Dream stiffened, lips pressing into an offended line. "It is not so simple as chess."

"Checkers?"

"It will not help you to think of it so." Dream took a chip and bit into it in irritation. "You just— oh." He stared at the chip. "These are quite pleasant."

"Can never go wrong with a good chip," said Hob, then furrowed his brows. "Haven't you had them in dreams before or something?"

"Presumably. It has been at least a century."

Ah, yeah. That. "Well, they're frying them in veg oil instead of lard nowadays anyway. Kind of a different experience."

Dream stared at him as if Hob made no sense whatsoever.

"Anyway," Hob continued, "am I even going to be able to create these mind-forms? I'm not exactly an otherworldly being."

"The power is in you, though it may be more challenging to harness. And easier to let slip from your grasp. It is imagination, after all. Humans are good at imagination, though perhaps not so good at holding onto it."

"Hmm." Hob munched on a chip. "Okay. I'll work on my imagination." After seven hundred years or so of life, it was possibly a tool that needed some sharpening.

"I admit it offends me greatly that Phaethon would presume to ask a human to fight in this way," said Dream. He suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead."

"Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me."

"I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds."

"Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

"Do not joke," Dream growled. Actually, he never truly growled. It was more like his voice dropped into a lower register than usual. Which was saying something. Hob interpreted it as a growl, though. "Do not joke when your existence is at stake. Your immortality cannot protect you from this."

"Are you saying I'd be unmade if I lost?" Hob asked. It was a concerning thought, to say the least. It had been a long time since he'd had to concern himself with his own mortality.

Dream’s tongue ran over his lower lip. "Potentially. The terms of the fight do not state so, but I do not know how such a duel will affect a human. The strain of it may simply tear you to shreds. It nearly drained me, the last time I fought."

"Wait, you had a fight like this? Recently?"

Dream tilted his head, gaze paling in confusion. "I told you that I went to Hell to retrieve my helm."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you had to mind-battle– who'd you mind-battle anyway?"

"The demon chose Lucifer Morningstar as his representative." Dream’s lip curled in distaste. "Hence, the near loss."

Hob looked at him in concern. "Are you alright, though?"

"Of course I am all right." He spoke it as two words, like the phrase had never before graced his tongue. Hob wanted to let out a long-suffering sigh, but managed to restrain himself. "I am Dream of the Endless."

"Mmhmm. Yep. Okay."

"You do not have to worry about me," Dream said stiffly, parroting Hob's words from before.

Hob thought that was evidently untrue, but decided not to mention the century of imprisonment or the multiple near-death experiences— could he die? Maybe it was more like multiple near-misses with eternal agony— since then. To preserve the relative peace of the moment.

"So how'd you beat the devil, then?" he asked.

"I had everything to lose. Lucifer had nothing to lose, and only a paltry amusement to gain."

Was that an answer? Hob wasn't sure.

"Okay," he said. "Well, I do have all of my dreams to lose, apparently. Plenty of incentive to win."

Ice crystallized along the rim of Dream’s glass, spreading from where his fingers pressed. “You speak as if you think I would ever allow this to happen.”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “I thought the magic was binding?”

“Only by honor.”

“And so… what would happen if you violated that honor?”

The words trickled out of Dream reluctantly. “One’s word would not be trusted again.”

“Right. Exactly. I can’t let you do that, love. There’s a whole eternity of words needing to be trusted after this.” It was tempting, honestly, to let his more powerful friend step in and handle this—especially as Hob still hadn’t gleaned what the hell he’d even done to piss off Phaethon—but ultimately, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never used Dream as a clean-up tool for any of his problems in the past, and he wasn’t about to start just because he now knew he was the Lord of Dreams.

Dream’s expression darkened further. He truly was capable of embodying shadow when he was annoyed; Hob didn’t know how he hadn’t figured out the extent of his supernaturalness sooner, honestly. “You would not let.”

“Hey. Come on. I’ve solved plenty of my own problems, haven’t I? Have a little faith.” Hob kind of wanted to pat his hand, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You don’t think I can win a duel against this Phaethon guy?”

Dream seemed uncertain about it, and Hob couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Sure, he wasn’t a supernatural entity, but Hob had gotten himself out of a fair number of scrapes, and without the help of any Endless, thanks very much!

“His rancor disturbs me,” Dream said at last. “I do not know what you have done to offend him.”

“Nor I. Never met the guy.”

Dream seemed lost in contemplation. Hob let him, and kept eating the chips.

Eventually, Dream said, “Even if this loss did come to pass… you would always have a place in the Dreaming.”

Hob’s breathing stuttered. “With you?” he said, sounding much smaller than he’d expected. It was… an ill-considered response, to say the least.

Dream shifted in his seat. “I am the Dreaming,” he said. “It is part of me, and I it.”

“I see,” said Hob. But the thought kept turning within him.

---

No more was said on the matter until their beers were drunk and their chips polished off and they were strolling out the door of the pub.

As they crossed the threshold, Hob was struck by a realization. He slapped Dream on the breast of his coat, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm an idiot! Of course it's not like chess. It's metaphysical rock-paper-scissors!"

"Are you intoxicated?" Dream asked wearily.

"Nope. Just happy to have my old friend around again."

Dream’s form, unbreakable as the darkness between stars, stuttered. Behind him, his shadow wavered.

Then he swept away, leaving Hob to catch up.

---

They met again on the field of battle, so to speak.

Phaethon was there before them, melodramatic in his white-and-gold cape. Not as melodramatic as Dream, though, whose eyeliner seemed darker than usual, somehow, and whose cloak swept all the way to the ground, pooling more like liquid than fabric. He was very displeased about these events, Hob could tell.

Hob shook Phaethon’s hand formally. Once again, the touch burned him, but he resisted the urge to shake his hand out in pain. Then they stood across from each other. Hob wished he had a sword, but that was not this game.

"As the challenged party, you commence the duel," Dream told him, standing not far from Hob’s side as Phaethon paced before them, grinning. "You may choose your form and begin."

Hob had thought long and hard about how he would start. He didn't want to go too big, else the fight escalate beyond his control. Obviously, he didn't want to pick something weak either.

What was out there that had tormented mankind, sowing destruction, breeding fear and illness and death, while barely reaching higher than an ankle?

Hob had lived through it. The choice was obvious.

"I am a plague rat," he started, and saw Dream’s eyebrows twitch. Impressed. Ha! "Hiding in shadows. Letting sickness into our food, homes, blood."

He saw the rats in his mind. Scurrying through tunnels, climbing into grain stores, unaware of what they carried. A seething mass of tails and slick fur and beady eyes, churning, churning, churning.

Phaethon curled in on himself, limbs creaking, boils popping on his skin and pus leaking from his eyes. Hob flinched at the reminder of those times. Horrible, horrible times.

Mentally, Hob prepared for the counterattack. Paper beats rock. What beats rat? Dog beats rat. Cat beats rat. Famine, extermination fumes, plague doctors, modern medicine—

"I," Phaethon ground out, through the contortions of his body, "am a flood."

Oof. Good one.

"A swelling, raging river, decimating any town in my path. Washing rats down to their deaths."

A phantom wave smacked Hob in the face and hurled him to the ground. It crashed over him, gallons and gallons of water, surging up his nose, into his eyes, down his throat. He choked on it. He drowned in it. Debris in the floodwaters bruised him till he felt like a branch spinning out in the current, rather than a human.

Then. He managed to take in a breath.

He staggered to his feet.

Dream was standing a step closer, like he'd lurched forward, but he forced himself back into stillness.

"I," Hob said on a gasping breath, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, "am a drought." Phaethon had taken it to another level? Fine. Hob would go scorched earth. "Whisking away all your water. Turning everything into dust."

Phaethon choked, throat suddenly dry. His eyes went bloodshot. His skin flaked and peeled, his lips bled. He clutched at his stomach as it heaved for water.

He could go rain again, Hob thought. Or ice age. Asteroid. Biblical flood—does that count if he already did a regular flood?

"I am famine," said Phaethon, when he'd recovered himself, though he was still rasping. "I wither crops without water. I starve everything that walks."

Hob's stomach caved in on itself. He fell to his knees, retching nothing but bile. His mind flashed back to his decades on the streets, so long without food he'd thought his stomach would start eating itself—and then it had.

His arms shook. His body felt thin and liable to crack.

"I," he croaked, still on all fours, "am an oasis. Rising from the desert, real, not a mirage. Offering reprieve."

Too late, he realized this might restore his opponent.

But instead, Phaethon creased and cracked, like he was the famine, persecuted by salvation. He clasped his stomach as if it was overfull; water poured from his mouth.

Water filled Hob's mouth, too, but it restored him. He climbed back to his feet.

Dream was definitely closer now. He wasn't imagining it. Still, he didn't intervene.

Phaethon was visibly weakened, but still he said, "I am selfishness. Infighting over limited resources. Society destroying its oasis."

Hob's limbs were torn in opposite directions. He yelled, but the invisible hands on him didn't let up, yanking at him like he was the final piece of food before everlasting deprivation. He pulled at them, but it was no use.

One of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop, and he bit down on his tongue so as not to scream. Blood exploded in his mouth.

"I am generosity!" he yelled, blood dripping over his lips. "I am brother sharing with brother. Stranger sharing with stranger."

Dream was looking at him now like he didn't know what to make of him. Phaethon, too, was staring at him, but with a look of disgust.

"High-minded idealist, are you?" he sneered. "What the hell is generosity going to—”

His expression broke in half. His hands shook; he picked at his nail beds until they peeled and started bleeding. His lip wavered and his eyes beaded with tears.

Hob didn't know what was happening to him.

"Shame," Dream breathed from behind him. "So clever, Hob."

Hob hadn't actually known what generosity would do, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless.

"I," croaked Phaethon, through tears, "am memory. History and anger curdled to a resentment which no generosity can overcome."

He felt Dream’s eyes on him, as he no doubt feared the anger, the resentment he so believed that Hob held over his absence would surge forth again. But it did not, for Hob had never been angry with Dream. Angry with himself, yes, and that he felt acutely, along with the fear and hurt of Dream walking away, the stewing guilt of it.

Memory held more than anger. Mostly, for Hob, it held grief. Grief for his friend who'd been imprisoned for so long, while Hob went about his life, imagining him lonely, isolated perhaps, but never knowing the truth. Grief for himself, too, for he knew that to always blame himself for Dream’s behavior had also been unfair.

Tears slipped from his eyes. He looked over at Dream, who was still watching him warily.

Memory had far too many facets for Phaethon to use it as an effective weapon.

"I am forgiveness," Hob said, closing his eyes against a fresh welling of tears. He didn't know who he was forgiving. Himself, or Dream, who still seemed to need absolution from Hob, no matter how Hob told him he didn’t.

"I am hatred!" Phaethon snarled. His voice had gone animalistic in a last ditch effort to come out on top. But forgiveness clanged around him, pulling tears from his eyes, undermining his viciousness. "I am division even forgiveness cannot mend."

Just like that, he opened up the path for Hob to take his king. Checkmate. Game over. Rock paper scissors shoot.

"I am love," Hob said quietly, even as a sob caught in his throat as the memory of all the hate he'd witnessed in his life, the hate he'd participated in, and the fear, long-held, that even Dream might hate him, for his wrongs, or for overstepping, pulsed back to the forefront. He could never hate Dream, though. No matter what.

"Love can be easily destroyed," snapped Phaethon, but he was wavering.

"But it always comes back," said Hob. Unwitting, he looked over his shoulder at Dream.

His friend was already looking directly at him. That tinge of red, so terrible and familiar now, was back along his eyes. He didn't speak, not to Hob. Hob followed his gaze as he looked over Hob's shoulder and spoke to Phaethon.

"Do you have a counter?"

"Love?" Phaethon laughed hysterically. "You brought love to a duel?"

"I believe Hob brings love everywhere he goes," said Dream, and Hob whipped back around to look at him, eyes wide. The tiniest smile was dancing on Dream’s lips.

Then a blade erupted from Hob's chest.

Blood sprayed. His heart stopped beating—actually stopped, he felt it. The sword had pierced right through it. He scrabbled for it with clumsy hands, but the blade shiiiinged back out before he could grab it.

Blood spattered Dream’s face. Those pretty lips parted, eyes widened, the lordly bearing wiped from his expression leaving only a person, shocked and wounded. Hob would never forget that look of startled horror for as long as he lived.

Which wasn't looking to be that long.

He fell to his knees, blood pouring from his chest. No use trying to stop it. It would mend itself, in time, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the instinctive rush of fear. He was dying. He was dying.

He fell on his side. Blood soaked his shirt. All told, it took maybe ten seconds after getting speared like a wild hog—

—for the world to completely blink out.

---

Hob's chest ached like a bitch when he woke.

He was still on the ground, bloody mud around him, soaking his clothes. Oh. That was mud made from his blood. How horrifying.

He opened his eyes in time to see Dream lifting Phaethon from the ground by his neck. His hand was a vice grip and Phaethon choked, scrabbling at his fingers for breath.

"TREACHERY," Dream snarled, louder than Hob had ever heard him. His voice boomed across the empty park. "I will unmake you."

"I'm not one of your creatures, you can do nothing to me," said Phaethon, but his assuredness flickered.

Dream’s being was a black hole eating light. "Watch it happen."

Hob coughed, dirt trapped in his throat, and shoved himself up on his forearms. Dream froze, and turned slowly to look at him, Phaethon still clasped in his hand like he weighed nothing. Dream’s attention was like being in the path of a comet.

"Hob," he said. "Are you alright?"

Hob knew, in that moment, that if he asked Dream to spare Phaethon from whatever fate he had in mind for him, he would comply. And what power that was. Hob didn't want to be the one doling out mercy or punishment, like a judge at the gates of Hell. But damn if it wasn't a thrill to have Dream look at him like that.

"Of course I'm all right," he said, with a bloody grin. "I'm Hob Gadling."

Dream smiled too, a ferocious smile, like that of a wolf.

Hob didn't tell him to spare Phaethon.

Apparently, they both had some savagery in them.

---

"So why did he kill me?" Hob asked later, when he'd showered all the blood off—God he loved modern showers—and they were both sitting at the kitchen table in his flat, drinking tea. Well, Hob was drinking tea. Dream was just kind of staring at it. "I mean, the cost of losing wasn't even that high. Not on his end, anyway."

"He was not interested in you at all," said Dream, still not looking at him. "I dragged the truth from him while you were… gone. This was all a ploy to get to me. To hurt me—indirectly, of course. Such a lower being could never hurt me directly."

"Wait." Hob tried to grapple with this. "You— are you saying I was like a kidnapped princess?"

Dream frowned. "If you insist. The point is, he did not plan to let you walk away. By winning, or by killing you, whichever he could accomplish."

"Damn. Maybe I should have let you fight for me."

"No. You represented yourself admirably. More than admirably. You won the challenge, fairly, and did not try to kill your opponent to do it."

Praise from Dream always hit Hob somewhere deep. Possibly because Dream only said such things when he meant them. Possibly just because it was Dream saying them.

“Well, thanks for handling him in the end,” Hob said, instead of voicing that sentiment.

Dream nodded solemnly. “I would not allow such harm to befall you without interfering,” he said.

Hob took a sip of his tea to avoid showing how he felt about that quite so obviously on his face.

“Why did he want to hurt you, then?” he asked instead.

“He is the child of a sun deity,” said Dream.

“And… that… means…?”

“Sunlight chases away dreams. We are natural enemies.”

Hob frowned. “What about daydreams?”

“Daydreams may take place during the daytime, but they exist in the darkness of the inner mind,” said Dream.

“Ahhhh.” Hob nodded sagely. Yeah, sure, that made sense. One hundred percent. Absolutely. “I don’t know, I feel like some dreams can survive in the daylight. Thrive, even.”

“Perhaps next time I have an altercation with a sun deity, I will call upon you,” Dream said, a bite of sarcasm in it. “To see if you can banish them with this mindset.”

“Don’t give me that cheek,” Hob admonished. Dream’s mouth popped open in offense, but Hob plowed on, “Just have an open mind about it, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows, maybe you guys are in a symbiotic relationship or something, instead of enemies. You help people see what could be possible, and they balance it with reality.”

Dream was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “But I do not think approaching them in this manner will serve me well, at the moment.”

“Maybe not if they’re going around attacking you,” Hob conceded, and Dream cracked a small smile.

Sun deities, Hob thought. Really, life was full of such strange and interesting things.

“So when you went to Hell,” Hob started. Dream tilted his head, but didn’t seem thrown by the change in subject. “What did you wager in exchange for your helm? The game makes you wager something, right?”

“It was the demon who chose the other side of the wager,” said Dream. “He demanded I remain in Hell and serve him for eternity, if I lost.”

Hob was glad he’d put down his tea, as he’d probably have dropped it. “What? Was the helm really worth that risk?”

Dream leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tight in offense. Or maybe hurt. “I am nothing without my tools of office,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Hob, surprised by his own vehemence. Nothing? He thought he was nothing?

“I could not have restored the Dreaming without them,” Dream insisted.

“Okay, fine. They’re important for your job. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing without them.” Hob went to lay his hand over Dream’s on the table, hesitated, then decided, fuck it. Dream started when their skin touched, but didn’t move away. Hob repeated his words, with even more emphasis this time. “You’re not nothing.”

Dream met his gaze, challenging. Hob didn’t back down.

“As you wish,” Dream finally said. Which wasn’t actually an agreement. “I can concede that the ruby breaking was ultimately beneficial to my power. But the helm is my symbol of office. To leave it in the possession of a demon is a continual humiliation to my realm and station.”

“Okay, I’m hearing you,” Hob said. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dream should be able to get his helm back. But he didn’t want Dream to risk horrible punishment for the sake of his pride. Better to slink away alive to try again another day, or so Hob felt. That wasn’t Dream, though.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said. “Even if you lost your helm and everything, and everyone in Hell thought you were pathetic—which, by the way, not sure Hell’s opinion is worth much anyway? but that aside—I’d still rather have you here than the alternative.” He threw Dream a smile, hoping he didn’t take offense to the idea that he could possibly be pathetic. “It wasn’t ‘The King of Dreams and Nightmares, et cetera’ that I missed for all those years, you know?”

“You did not know who I was, then,” Dream pointed out, but he seemed contemplative.

“I liked who I did know,” Hob said. “My friend.”

“Your friend,” repeated Dream slowly. Finally, he did pick up his tea, and took a sip. “A powerful title indeed, if you would have me when it is the only one I carry.”

“If you say so,” Hob said, which brought a small smile to Dream’s lips. If Dream wanted to think of it as a title akin to his kingship and endlessness and whatnot, then Hob would bestow it on him with gladness, and with a warm sense of honor that nestled right in his heart.

“It is…” Dream added, at length, “a meaningful title. To me.”

Rare, those expressions of feeling from Dream. Hob couldn’t help but to bask in them like a cat in a sunbeam. He remembered how Dream had looked at him during the duel. Love always comes back. Worth it, all the strife, to see Dream look at him like that, he thought.

“You defended me,” Dream said. “To prevent me taking the duel in your place. To protect me when it was not warranted.”

Wasn’t warranted. Hob really wished Dream would just learn to let Hob care for him.

"Would have even if I'd known it was you he truly wanted," he said. “I missed my friend for long enough. Wasn’t going to let something happen again when I could get in the way of it.”

“Your friend,” Dream said again. As if savoring the words. His lips tipped up again in a small smile. One just for himself.

Hob squeezed his hand on the table. A grounding touch, a reminder. “And don’t forget it.”

Dream turned his hand over on the table, and squeezed back.

#rip hob lol #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #temporary character death #such a hilariously different tone than the last thing i posted

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bellaxisworld · 2 months

Text

february 27 @jegulus-microfic prompt: change. word count: 955

Kissing Booth - Kiss for a Cause!

All donations go to the local LGBTQ+ teen shelter!

James had noticed the bright red signs around campus for a couple days, not sparing it a second thought. There are always lots of charity opportunities and donations happening around campus, a kissing booth is nothing special.

But now, he faces the multi-colored kissing booth in front of the library and his heart skips a beat.

He never imagined he could be working the kissing booth.

Regulus Black—also known as James Potter’s biggest weakness—is standing behind the kissing booth counter.

James does a double take, eyes drinking up every beautiful detail of Regulus. His hair is immaculately curled and styled today, gently tucked behind one ear. His eyes are bright and discerning, gray and stormy as he looks up at James. Regulus is wearing a blue shirt and gray jeans, and his many silver rings catch James’ attention. James is obsessed with Regulus’ rings—he could write sonnets about Regulus’ rings, his hands, how utterly perfect Regulus is.

He hurriedly hops in line for the kissing booth, antsy and impatient during the time it takes for him to reach the front. He’s fidgeting and overthinking and bouncing on one foot—and finally, he comes face to face with him. James is breathless, staring at Regulus. The younger boy is far shorter than James, and James is endeared to him even more for it. The top of his dark curly head barely comes up to James’ mid-chest.

“Regulus,” James breathes out, smiling wide and toothy.

“Potter,” Regulus says—and James nearly scoffs. The audacity he has, to call him Potter, as if they’re on a last name basis!

“Can I get a kiss, Regulus?” Say yes, say yes, say yes—

“Do you have change, Potter?” Regulus is smirking up at him, but his eyes look far too sharp, and James feels like he’s the victim of a cruel prank.

“Right, right—uh, five dollars, is it?” James pats his pockets, searching for the five-dollar-bill he pocketed this morning.

Regulus clicks his tongue, looking bored. “Ten dollars, actually—price went up,” he says.

James looks at the bulletin, seeing a very clear FIVE DOLLARS in bubble letters. He goes to point, spluttering, “It says—”

James is met with a cutting glance and a mean smirk. “Want to make it twenty?”

“No! No, Reg—”

“Ah, too late. Twenty it is,” Regulus interrupts, looking positively gleeful as James stares at him in horror. “For charity.”

“Regulus, you’re—”

“Twenty five, Potter?” Something warm and unexpected blooms in James’ chest, and it feels like they’re playing a game. Regulus is having too much fun being mean to him.

“Stop, no inflation, please, let me find some change, for goodness sake!” James frantically searches his bag, his pockets, finding only thirteen dollars on his person.

But James Potter is no quitter—and he refuses to lose this game.

James talks to everyone in line, begging for a spare dollar, “Hi, the name’s James, I am at a point of desperation, do you have any spare change?”

By chance or pure luck, James manages to scrounge up twenty-two dollars, and he finds himself at the front of the line again.

“Regulus,” he says, just as breathless as before. Regulus looks up at him with his pretty eyes, shining with amusement. His pink lips are quirked up in a smile. “I have twenty-two dollars for you, which is way more than you charged anyone here, but I love a good charitable cause, of course—”

“James, shut up—” Regulus reaches forward and tugs harshly on the front of James’ shirt. He falls forward into the booth and steadies himself with a hand on Regulus' waist, like muscle memory. His other hand finds Regulus’ face, cradling it so gently as he pulls James into a kiss, and he moves automatically—as if they’d kissed a thousand times before. But they hadn’t, and James is learning exactly what Regulus tastes like for the first time, and he is definitely losing his mind.

Regulus is flush against him, warm in James’ arms, making the prettiest noises into James’ mouth that James eats right up, eager to swallow every part of him.

They kiss and kiss in the middle of the courtyard, far too indecently—and James can’t help but hope that Regulus hadn’t been so filthy with everyone else.

Regulus pulls away, chest heaving and lips red and kiss-bruised. Despite not being an artist, James desperately wants to paint this version of him—to emphasize the contrast between his cool colors, gray and blue and black, to the warmth of his blush and lips, the brown freckles on his nose. James thinks he’s the prettiest view he’s ever seen.

“Was that worth you twenty dollars in change, James?”

“Twenty-two,” James corrects breathlessly, “and yes, it was, Regulus.”

Regulus smiles at him, tucking a fallen curl behind his ear. He bites his lip. “Do you—um, do you want to do it again sometime?”

James’ heart stops, anticipation flooding through him. “Do what, in particular?”

Regulus’ cheeks flush redder. “Oh, the uh—kissing part?”

His heart restarts, pounding in his chest with a vengeance. He’s sure the entire courtyard can hear the thump of his heart. “Do I have to scrounge up another twenty-two dollars for it?”

Regulus huffs. “No, Potter, of course not. I just thought—”

“Of course I would. Like to kiss you, I mean. Can we schedule a date first?’

Regulus nods eagerly. They get each other’s numbers, they schedule a date, and James gets to wax poetic about his boyfriend’s beauty at all times. And he doesn’t need spare change as an excuse to kiss his crush anymore.

chapter 27 in my microfic series on ao3: february, i'm yours.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #marauders #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #the marauders #hp marauders #ao3 #fanfiction #bellaxis #bellaxisworld #bellaxis ao3 #bellaxis microfic #james x regulus #regulus x james #fanfic #bella writes

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. “This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move.

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder.

Alright, this, you can do.

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

“Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

“Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere #i didn't think id get a chance to post tonight so BONUS i love you all!

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