outfits! Tristan is so fun to dress up I just want to draw strawberry stuff for her forever
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How would (Separate) Hazbin hotel (Demons &Angel) react to a green thumb gardener whose elegant, classy and attractive and she went to hell by mistake but it was a happy one (She's not completely weak as she has her plant to protect her and everything)
HAZBIN HOTEL X GARDENER! READER
prompt: a common mistake made demons and angels swoon over a gardener who just wants to take care of her/his plants
cw! Sir Pentious is alive for this so he can witness your beauty in flowers💗
note! I listened to Lana Del Rey while making this lol.
HELL
You didn’t know you were supposed to be in heaven as you started your own flower shop. It was the biggest know hell flower store with actual flowers.
You were practically poison ivy, but more kind and definitely calmer. Hell, even some of your regulars call you poison ivy. Mostly because if people touch you metaphorically the wrong way, then you technically show them a harsher side of you. Literally, a plant impaled a sinner trying to rob your store. 
What you didn’t except to get friends or even people interested into you as you just have a normal as shop you dreamed of before dying.
“Welcome to my flower shop, what can I help you with?” You said with a soft smile as a flower vine is watering other flowers in the background. Some imps, sinners, and hell borns go all the way to just see you and your flowers.
I can see you wearing a flower crown or just flowers in your hair. Like dead ass giving rapunzel. Possibly so, your alive flowers and vines had made that for you as you worked.
You most definitely wear those cute gardening outfits like overalls or those dresses if you prefer one of them or both.
See this is what I can imagine, I can imagine the whole damn hotel having a flower competition and you show up with a big ass plant with a neat pink bow on it 😭. You definitely had a smile as you drank tea with a secret smirk.
I can see you visiting the hotel Charlie has as she invited you to do some flower decor for a reopening of the hotel.
Imagine how pissed you were when a couple of sinners came in to make your shop look like shit. But you wasn’t gonna stand for it as you raised your hand grabbing the sinners by their necks with vines. “If you want flowers, I wouldn’t mind making you a funeral for you to have some.” You said with venom as the sinner practically shitted themselves as they were thrown out the windows of your shop.
A sinner had thrown a Molotov cocktail once in your shop all because he thought it was weird to have a “girly” flower shop in hell. As the fire spreads in your shop, you sighed having plant vines cover you in a big ball as one of the vine slither to find the culprit. After finding the culprit, you forced them to clean your shop since killing someone for such a petty crime like that in your opinion isn’t worth killing. You can always make a new shop and fix it.
Vaggie most definitely knows you as you hooked her up with flowers that Charlie might like. You told her Charlie seems like a simple girl would just like roses since they represent romance. And basically it was Vaggie and Charlie’s date night. And it was a success.
Angel dust loves how you don’t judge him for who he is by his work. But he definitely loves how you two gossip over some tea, well he drinks while you drink tea or water. You are like an older sister/brother figure to him. He loves resting in your bean bag you have in the back, he could just come in and and lay down straight.
I headcannon your whole palette to be like green, pink, yellow and white. Literally just spring ass colors to seem classy with your flower shop.
I can imagine you having the personality of applejack but more of a flower and gardening person as gardener! Reader were most definitely born in the south. Like I can imagine reader to be a mix of applejack, rarity, fluttershy but 100% of applejack’s honesty and a lot of Rarity’s elegance.
Niffty adores you! Literally she goes in your store to rant about she wants the hotel to smell fresh and ready. And you hook a sista up with how you give her scented plug in. She immediately starts worshipping you like Alastor which makes Alastor raise a brow seeing a shine of you in her room and drawings of you.
Charlie immediately loves how vaggie and angel ador you and find you as a loyal friend. She would love to have you at the hotel as a resident. She could even beg Alastor or her dad to make a flower shop for you to even stay longer by briding. She would also try to become your friend for her to succeed.
Sir Pentious went to your store to apologize again to Alastor as he felt that Alastor didn’t forgave him. He was scared you weren’t a kind “sinner” that only had a flower shop to scam people for their money. But when you spoke with kindness and care towards the snake demon. He felt calm in your presence, to the point when he got his flowers. He gave you one which made you smile at him and put it in your hair. He blushed and ran off.
The egg boiz love too appear in your store as their boss, penthouse is very nervous to talk to such an attractive person like you. You welcome the eggz to your humble store as you give them flowers to give back to the hotel staffs.
Angel and Cherri most definitely asked you to give them flowers to match their personality. You gave them both a Carnation flower which you thought was good for their personality. Or even a Lilly.
Husk kept seeing the crew leave the hotel to see them come back with flowers. He grumble confused at why they kept getting flowers. That is until he asked Charlie, and Charlie ranted about what a beauty and how kind you are. Husk raised a brow thinking you were putting up an act, so he went to see you. Let’s just say he got a rose coming back with a soft smile and a purr.
The Vee’s heard about you, Vox heard about you first and looked you up to see you are a popular florist and gardener with the power of Chlorokinesis. The power to mentally and physically control flowers. Vox smirked hearing about your 5 star rating shop. If it was that high ranked with people commenting it on yelp saying you were the best business to be at. You definitely got his attention at most.
Lucifer went to your store for some flowers to give to his daughter, and when he heard how amazing your store was. He went to se it himself. He definitely felt your pure spirit making him stumble into confusion on why you weren’t in heaven already. But he got his flowers and felt with a cup of tea you gave him. He shortly came back at the end of the day to give you his own flowers as he smiled with a snake smile and left leaving a note that says, “you’re welcome to come stay at the hotel! :)”
Alastor finally decided to meet you after hearing all the good things you did for the hotel and for the staff. He must say he was jealous how you won their hearts so damn quickly. He went to your store to see what’s all the fuss about and got hit with a lavender scent in his nose. He covered it as he wasn’t use to such sweet smell in hell as it’s filled with fire and blood. And there you were sitting there with a smile as warm plate of teas sat by you. You welcomed him as he made chat with you to find your heart pure with gold. He also left with a rose and a genuine smile.
I imagine how sweet you get your own flowers by regulars and your friends at the hotel as they love your passion about plants.
Headcannon on Gardner! Reader to be a Lana Del Rey fan as the song to match her/him is “born to die” 💗🦆
Vox was obviously the first Vee to meet you face to face as he had researched you so many times on the internet to get any scoop of you to only end up with an empty hand. So he decided to see you in person and smile with a charming one to see you greet him with a smile and show him the recommended flowers for loved one and family. He was not into the flowers as he watched the plant vines in the back work like hands. He smirks trying to use his hypnosis, but failed greatly as a flower in a vase covered his sighting of you. Thanks to your plant vines.
Velvette was the second one to come to your store as she was not impressed at how “boring and plain” it was in your shop. She was snarky about the decor and gave you tips on how to make it “pop” in here. You just smiled, and with a snap of your fingers, the decor changed to a more fashionable flower place. It made the female Vee almost drop her jaw and composure. But she can’t let some flower store shock her. So she left with one last snarky comment under her breath.
Valentino definitely came in last to see what was up with your whole popularity of your “business” of flowers as he was so busy working his porn industry. So when he walked in yo see you reaching for some flower seeds to get for a customer. He grabbed your waist, wanting to seem flirty only for it to backfire as a vine punches him away from you. You already knew who this bastard was, and you weren’t gonna let him get you like how he got angel. So during his entire visit at your shop, you made it a living hell. Literally.
I can see the Vee’s coming back every weekday to try and get you to be their little flower pet, but you ain’t buying it. 😘
You most definitely have a vine hammock in the corner of your store as you just sit there and nap during your breaks.
Imagine how cool and sweet you are to the imp and hell born children that come to visit your store for father day and mother day. Hell, even valentines days
I can headcannon that gardener! Reader has once in their hell life down there had to drag out a rude Karen ass bitch by their hair. You fuck with their plants, you fuck with them.
Imagine how chill you are just sipping tea as your plants and vines attack some dude trying to steal your sunflower seeds. Yeah, no one gets out without being traumatized by plants 😍
You came into the hotel once and immediately got love bombed by everyone. But not in a manipulate way, they just appreciate how amazing you are to people even the staff at most. They go as far to throw you a “welcoming” party 💗
Lucifer had most definitely sent ducks with mini flower crowns and a Gardner duck to you as he finds you very elegant and beautiful in your own way. He even accidentally tries to court you with his wings when he leans against at the front desk of your store staring into your eyes.
HEAVEN
Adam had eventually was sent to take you back into heaven as sera realized her mistake. You willingly went with Adam who smirked at your sweet smile and took you up by your hand. Like, let’s say whatever happened in the hell section didn’t happen as you just had a bad time in hell itself.
St. Peter immediately greets you, making feel welcome to your new home. He even baked you cookies with a smiley face. He tries to make chit chat with you when he isn’t on duty getting people into the gates. He literally visits your workplace in the flower store you own, bringing cookies, making sure you are okay. Hell-, I meannn heaven gods..he must be a househusband cause GYATT DAMN this man is making sure you are well and healthy in heaven’s care. 💗💗
Sera most definitely have showed you around heaven with a please smile to see a Gardner. You would’ve been great for the Garden of Eden, is what she says in her head as you smile at the trees and potted plants around. You even showed the seraphim your powers, and she must say that she was pleased and made you a gardener around heaven and even your own garden shop and house.
Emily most definitely tries to go visit you everyday to try and find flowers that match you so you can be surprise when she buys you flowers herself. You and Emily definitely have a sibling relationship at most because of how she looks up to you in a gardening way as she also wants to impress you by making her own garden and green house. She also makes sure you take breaks as she wants to help with the customers as you take a break in the back. Your friendship with her is so wholesome and lovely.
Adam likes how classy you are, you don’t even cuss him out when you are angry at him. You just put your hand in his face and walk away. Sassy, but classy enough to not curse someone the fuck out. Yeah sure that might’ve turned him on a bit at how hot and “bitchy” that was of you. Cause no one has ever rejected the “Dickmaster”. So it was his duty to make you his friend…sorta😨. But it’s all fun and games at how you guys are like frenemies at most since Adam actually can’t stand you, but still flirts at how attractive and kind you are. Hell even strong minded.
The angels absolutely love coming in your store! They find every single plant and flower you made incredible. You practically almost run out of business when it’s Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. But you can’t complain when they leave so much heaven bucks for you to get more plant seeds and such. The angels also love how pure of gold your heart is as you even give some off free for the heaven borns and winners.
Big headcannon on how your Gardner outfit in heaven, the palette is a soft green and pink pastel. But Adam and Sera had thought about you wearing a gold, white, and blue type of Gardner outfit. They want you to stay pure and mighty.
OOOH IMAGINE HAVING CUTE ASS WHITE GLOVES 😭😭 LIKE THEY HAVE THOSE STITCHED IN GOLD THREADS AND LIKE THEY ARE SO CUTE AND COMFY INSIDEEE💗💗
Since i headcannon that Gardner! Reader to be a damn Lana Del Rey fan, their song that matches them in heaven is “young and beautiful.” As you are young and beautiful and mostly, you’re in heaven.
Literally imagine Adam just shows up to just degrade you, but it doesn’t work as you just sit there reading your daily newspaper or on your phone to just see plant and gardening instagram from earth and heaven. Adam pouts or even scoffs before taking your phone and acting like a fussy cat wanting attention.
You really don’t give a fuck about Adam but he definitely gives a fuck about you.
The angels sometimes ships you with Adam, but they also ship you with st.peter at how he is basically the house husband and you are the girl boss who works their ass off😭
Lute and Adam are definitely the type to be those teens who visit their local market..dead ass when they are free they just come to your store and just start “window shopping”…but really they just either want to mess with you or actually know about your day.
I can see you literally just chilling, and Adam busts open the store door that has that jingle bell on it so harsh and all he says is. “Wassup bitch!” With his usual grin and a soda cup as you just groan annoyed.
St.peter literally tried to work beside you ok his days off to just see how “calming” your job is. Until rush hour comes😭 that’s when hell itself unleashes with people wanting to grab any scented flower candles and flowers for theirselves. Have mercy on Peter’s soul that he doesn’t get grabbed and clawed all because he said that the last product was in the back. 😭😭
Imagine how cute your damn angel wings must be. Cause I imagine them to be some god damn fairy wings to match a beautiful aesthetic with your flower and gardening store.
I headcannon you actually had thrown Adam like how vaggie thrown the staff like in the episode of “scramble eggs.”
lol I can see you just slapping Adam with your plant vine because of one misogynist joke he made. He had the most whip lashed mark on his face. He stopped making those fücking jokes like that as he just flinches as a vine comes near him. “WALK HIM LIKE A DOGGG!!” 😘😍
Sera loves gaining flowers from you as the angelic guards bring them in as she is doing her work.
Emily also feels the same way as she smiles and makes the guard send you flowers as well for a thank you. 💗🥺 please give this sweet baby a note back saying you appreciate her damn note so much..
Imagine having a whole tea and cookie station by your front desk where people pay. Like they get a nice drink and a snack in case they were hungry and thirsty from their trip to here. 😘☀️ you care about your customers and regulars deeply.
St. Peter had one time mistook the glass doors to be opened and fell back so dramatically onto his ass, he might as well confirm himself as dead 💀
Emily most definitely actually tried to grow a plant or flower to show you how much she learnt from you, only for the damn thing to fail. She wanted to cry and shrivel up in disappointment, but you taught her and help fixed her mistake on what she did at most.
Lute most definitely acts better without Adam, of course she could act better with Adam. It’s just that Adam is her home dog, and she is Adam’s homegirl. So of course they are besties. So with Adam not interfering with you and lute talking one on one for the first time. You two get quite long to the point she grabs your hands and smile. Leaving with a flower you gave her.
Your plants just causally changing into the liked flower of the customer or regular due to your plant magic on sensing what flowers they like supposedly💗
Headcannon on how short you are. Literally you are shorter than lute to Adam and Emily. It’s really funny but to you, it’s annoying asf since Adam picks you up like a stray cat found at the front porch ready to be taken in.
Emily and sera would have tea time with you definitely. Or coffee if they prefer. You don’t gossip of course but just lift each other up and talk about hanging out later in the days or weeks later. Heck even the day later maybe if Emily is very eager.
Lute most definitely had thrown flowers in your face as she isn’t use to showing affection towards a person she actually admires. Yeah she admires Adam, as a boss and best friend. But there is something about you that makes her stumble on her words.
You had to actually stay home once, forced by sera who got told by Adam you were overworking yourself. Adam and sera hated it as sera showed go to your job looking serious. Forcing you to stay in bed until you had a good sleep for the week.
Imagine just gardener! Reader literally accidentally making Adam spit out a four leaf clover as they were saying a spell in Latin to have four leaf clovers for St. Patrick’s day.
I headcannon Adam sometimes tries to court you with his wings, and you are confused as hell as you aren’t use to being courted by some fucking feathers.
I can see you having a potted plant pet beside you. It was practically a sapling as it smiled with heaven magic and told positive affirmations to waking customers. It’s so fuckin adorable
I imagine you just sleeping as your overworked at your store and Adam comes in pissed off you didn’t come home. So he literally picks you up over his shoulder and walks Home. He has the damn key to your house but he decides to just go to his house and lay you on his bed as he sleeps on the couch grumbling.
St.Peter, after that little incident with him walking into a glass door. This mofo literally puts his hands out towards any glass door 😭 like a little kid being traumatized after a glass maze. It’s so funny but so sad.
A young heaven born had brought you back a freaking flower crown in your most favorite flowers and you were so amazed. You gave the small little angel a flower crown of their own.
The visits are always welcomed to your store as Adam brings you his own set of flowers to try to impress you. 💗 you snickered seeing the note that says, “i hope you like it..bitch. *middle finger drawing* I heard this plant was your favorite.” Sweet, but sour ass motherfuker. 😭😭
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STAY SOFT, GET EATEN !
ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader
tags. p in v, incest, dub-con that is basically non-con idk
note. unedited cuz i got lazy omg. umm ignore typos :3 sorry my writing is so jolty lately im finding it hard to write so it’s all coming off very clunky but :3 rbs n feedback appreciated !! this is like not actually that smutty I’m sorry 💔 if u see me reusing bits from other old fics pretend it’s new
tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.
Your dad is hot, an indisputable fact. He’s a total babe, kinda looks like he should’ve been in Baywatch during his prime, got a rack that rivals C. J. Parker’s. Ever since you hit twelve, and the girls in your class suddenly got all boy crazy, you’ve been hearing nonstop about how cute dad is.
Sleepovers were held at yours so they could get a glimpse of him, and your dad might be friendly, but he’s clumsy with conversation, not much of a talker, so he made himself scarce. Then came the slew of questions, you think it was Ashley Graham, the one that didn’t know how to quit it. Airheaded with eyes like chipped peridot.
Hey, where’s your mom? Is she still around, I’ve never heard about her? What kinda girl does your dad like?
My dad doesn’t like kids, freak.
He might, and I’m not a kid! I mean, I turn thirteen in January. I bought a bra at PINK the other day, I even got measured, the lady said I’m an A cup.
Even my dad's are bigger than that, loser.
I’m, like, so not a loser! My mom said I could get a boob job when I turn sixteen, and by then your dad will be, like, what? Thirty?
He’ll be forty-three, dumbass.
Yeah, forty-three, that’s perfect. We can date then as long as you don’t have a mom. I did see a picture on your desk, but that’s your sister right? ‘Cause if that’s your mom, she never picks you up from school, so she’s either dead or they broke up or she hates you, right? I’m so right, aren’t I?
You’re wrong, stupid. My mom just works a lot.
Boo, I totally thought she was dead, well, whatever, if they break up by the time I hit sixteen, I’ll totally be your new step-mom.
For a lack of better words, you wanted that bitch dead. She meant well, you’ve just never met someone so out of touch, the type of girl that hands out Chanel handbags at the food bank.
A few years later, when you turned eighteen, it was Ada Wong, you had this co-dependent, whirlwind friendship that had you by the throat. She was cool, a few years older, and everyone thought she was hot. You were lame, and wanted everyone to think you were hot. What you don’t understand is how on earth it ended with her hand down the front of your dad’s pants at your graduation party. He was totally out of it too, she took advantage of a poor, drunk old man, and the worst part about it? That wasn’t what made you mad. Not that she touched him when he was slurring, tripping over his own feet, you were mad ‘cause she got to touch him in the first place.
When you tell your counsellor, I have a crush on my dad, she falters. She’s this older lady that reminds you of your Auntie Claire, they have the same button nose, and that makes it harder to talk to her. She presents herself professionally, and takes herself a little too seriously, also in the way Auntie Claire does at times. Bitch thinks she’s a psychologist. She has an office tucked right into the corner of your university’s humanities department.
“Well, is your dad absent?” She starts, chews on the lid of her ballpoint pen, the type you get in a pack of two hundred. See, if she were a real psychologist, she’d have a fancy one, with runny ink, and a metallic barrel.
“No, my dad raised me.” Your lips twitch upwards, wanting to scowl at her. ‘Cause this is your thirteenth session, and she knows how close you are to dad.
“Well, then, has your dad ever hit you?” She blinks real slow like it hurts to blink.
“What? No, never.” You’ve asked me these questions before, you stuck-up cow.
“Well, then,” Her eye twitches, you think she might report you to the authorities for being a freak, “Has he ever behaved inappropriately with you?”
The worst your dad has done is ask if you’re on birth control, only once, and he was rightfully worried. “Never, he would never do that.” I don’t know if you’ve been listening, I’m the one that wants to sit on his dick.
She taps her nail on the oak desk, popping open a button on her blouse. Some counsellor she is, mouth drying up ‘cause you have a crush on your dad. “Listen, if it’s not me overstepping boundaries, or being impolite, I’d like to refer you to a therapist.”
No fucking way. Jackpot. You’ve been waiting three months for this, all it took for her to cut the crap was an incestual confession? Although, you really do need to get that fixed, there’s this part of your brain, the cerebellum you believe, that’s been cut out and replaced by a hunk of meat that resembles your father. Whoever did it made a shoddy malpractical mess that you’re left to clean up with scarce supplies and medical knowledge.
“I'd really appreciate that.” You tell her, mustering your toothiest of grins as you pack up your shit and pass through the doorway, never to turn back to advice that consists solely of ‘talk it out’ and ‘use daily affirmations’ and other baseline shit they cover in Cosmopolitan articles you could read for free.
Therapy turns out to be no help. Not ‘cause of the content of the session, this is your first one actually, more ‘cause your therapist resembles dad. A little more on the polished side than your father, with salt and pepper hair that would look so good on him. Leon refuses though, to grow old, that is, to look anything more than thirty - he’s far past that, you think he’s looked old ever since you were born.
It’s going to be a distraction, you might leap out of your seat and fuck this man half to death if he scoots his chair any closer, if he keeps scratching his chin in the way dad does. There’s a copy of Nineteen-Eighteen-Four on the desk behind him, the one with the fabric cover to be specific, embellished by tiny labouring hands to sit pretty on the best-seller shelf in some overpriced independent bookstore. More importantly, it’s the copy that collects dust on your dad’s bedside, the one he insists to have read, but the pages still have that fresh scent to them, and not a single one is dog-eared.
There’s a ring on his ring finger, just like dad’s, and that might be a stretch, ‘cause every married man has a ring on their ring finger. Still reminds you of dad though. His is gold, and dad’s is silver ‘cause mom likes silver. You like silver ‘cause it looks pretty on dad.
He introduces himself, his way of speech is refined, and you can tell he thinks before he speaks unlike dad. Leon is clunky with words, oftentimes crude without realising. Cancellation and no-show fees, your rights, confidentiality, he runs you through all of it - the whole time you’re focused on his lips, the prominent curve of his Cupid’s bow, the double lip line that makes them appear fuller from afar. Just like dad’s lips.
The receptionist frowns when you request to see another therapist, then she begins to click, click, click away at her keyboard. She stops midway to file her nails, then she pops her gum and gives a very simple shake of the head, ponytail moving with her. You doubt the slow bitch even tried, so you make your way home, a heat in your stomach that refuses to fizzle out, an ache so deep only dad could reach it. With his dick, obviously.
Dad’s keys jingle and you hear wedding bells. You check the time, he’s home early, he toes off his shoes and tucks them into the cubby hole shelf mom placed by the door. She’d be down his throat if he left them scattered for her to trip over again.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon smiles kindly, the same smile that’s seen you throughout your life. The one he gave you when he first held you, the one he gave you when you fell off your bike, and he brushed the crumbly gravel off your knees and kissed the tender scrapes on both. When you graduated, and he held back tears but acted all tough about it, he smiled all the same.
“Hi, dad.” The one you give in return is meek, the apples of your cheeks refusing to raise upwards into your eye-line.
“Oh,” Dad is perceptive, he throws his jacket over the bannister, keys tucked into one of it’s unzipped pocket - they dangle haphazardly, and you’re sure he’ll forget about them and toss that jacket in the washing machine, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You shrug Leon’s hand off of your shoulder when he takes the seat adjacent to you. It’s cruel, the expression on his face sours, your heart lurches. Making him upset is your farthest intention, you just don’t know how much skin to skin contact you can handle with him.
Nonetheless, it was the wrong move, ‘cause he shuffles closer, “Hey now, don’t push me out, what’s wrong?”
“Dad, I promise, nothing's up.” You aim to soothe him with your words, but his agitation grows, your discomfort is palpable - he tastes it on his tongue, it’s the blood in the back of his throat. There’s no getting past him. “Therapy was bad.” No harm in telling a lie or two.
“Therapy,” Leon waves his hand through a nonexistent cloud of smoke, “You don’t need that.”
Here we go. All you need is a hug from dad! A kiss from dad. And you’ll be all better, sweetheart.
“I do, dad.” You glare at him, he smooths his thumb over your wrinkled brow and your heart drops to your ass. Dad needs to stop touching you before you touch him back, that’s a silent threat, your fingers twitch to grab him, mould his soft flesh into the shape of your fingertips.
“I did a good job with you,” Leon states, “My dad—“
My dad hit me, my dad threw me through a glass table once, busted my ass and made me crawl through the shattered glass and then he set wild dogs on me - your grandma just watched - I been through all that and I don’t need to go to therapy. He says something along those lines, albeit less cinematically thrilling.
“You did a very good job with me,” You nod, reassure him in a maternal tone almost ‘cause all dads are children that need to be praised, “It’s not your fault, dad, I love you lots.” Well, it is, for raising you so well, maybe he raised you too well. Or maybe you’re just a bit sick in the head, or maybe it’s his fault for looking how he looks.
“Then you don’t need therapy,” He sinks back into his dent in the leather couch, “You just need a hug, bring it in, kid.”
No, no, no. You do your best to fend him off, all for his own sake, but he draws you close to his chest, smothers you by pushing your face right into the dip. He smells good, cologne gradually having worn off as the day progressed, the slightly tangy undertone of his sweat coming through.
“And a kiss.” He coos at you, pinches your cheek, clicks his tongue in an attempt to coax you.
God, no. Don’t kiss me. Don’t do that— Mwah! Smack bang on your forehead as he tips your chin upwards, blinking down at you with sticky toffee lashes. And you, stupidly, in your lovestruck haze, pull him in to place the most disgusting, sloppy kiss on his lips - one that does little to hide your ardour for dad.
Leon’s neck almost snaps with how fast he pulls back, then he stares at you open-mouthed, and you hate to say it, but you’d kiss his lips swollen again. A man of his age, especially your father, should not be pretty or doll-lipped, but he is and you hate it. He’s your hamartia of sorts.
“Sweetheart…” Dad shambles aimlessly through his words, umming and ahing.
“Oh, god, you totally think I’m a freak, right?” You take your hands off of his chest, where they had been firmly planted, giving him a real good squeeze without even realising. “Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it just came out, you were just really close to me and I got nervous.” Now you sound like him, a lack of conversational tact is exactly what you got from dad.
“No, it’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just give dad a minute.” He pats your shoulder, then he stands up, about to march on forward to grab his keys and leave. You know your dad, so you take his wrist in your hand, beg him to face you.
“Dad… I’m sorry, can you look at me?” You add a ‘please’ in the most desperate tone you can manage, brows slanting downwards as your bottom lip trembles.
Leon struggles to do so, his arm flexes when he tenses, stiffening in your grip. He sits back down when you begin to sniffle, too lamb-hearted to sit through your fit of tears. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Dad rubs your back, but he avoids moving his face close like he usually would, this is his cue to kiss the tears from your cheeks, but he doesn’t.
“It’s not, dad,” You hiccup, choking on an ugly sob that manifests into an even uglier yelp, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m just really lonely.”
“Baby,” Leon’s voice is sweet like a glacé cherry, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that, I didn’t know you were lonely.”
You are, but that’s not why you kissed dad. You kissed dad out of your own free will, ‘cause you’re in love with him. “I am really lonely, dad, I don’t know what to do.” The snot and tears don’t bother him, he wipes it away with the back of his hand. You’re his baby, you know that. So if he can do that, why can’t he fuck you? It’s ugly in the same way, he’ll wipe his load off your stomach instead, or your ass if he wants to take you from the back.
“Hey, it’s okay, we can— we can fix that, I promise.” The only thing you need him to fix is the leak you’ve sprung, plug it up or whatever. “There’s no use cryin’ about it, alright? Dad doesn’t like seeing you cry.”
His guard drops, and you’re kissing him again, harder, till he’s breathless and confused and yet unable to push you off. ‘Cause dad is so weak-willed when it comes to you. If only you’d had the guts to get to him sooner. “I won’t cry… I won’t cry if you kiss me, dad, I promise.” It’s a shitty tactic, threats, making dad’s heart jump like that - gonna send him into cardiac arrest.
Leon hesitates, softens like butter when your hands come to fist the fabric of his shirt, “Okay, just, just a kiss, alright? And mom can’t find out ‘bout this.” He stammers, cupping your face in his big hands, his fingers trembling. “And… And just one, yeah?” His flimsy assertion of dominance has your lips curving into the slightest of smiles, dad’s cute.
“Just one.” You agree, his spiky lashes cast shadows on his face, he shuts his eyes tight as your lips ghost over his for a moment, then you take his face in your hands and press them together. Lip to lip. Heart to heart. You swing a leg over his, situating yourself in his lap. Leon’s eyes open, no longer bracing as he glances down at your spread thighs, then up at your face.
“What’s up?” Leon tries, it’s hard to miss the apprehensive edge to his tone, how he burrows backwards into the couch pillows, shoulders shrinking to get away from you. His kid.
He’s not moving. Not pushing you off, which he could easily do, not calling mom and telling her you need to be checked into a ward of some kind - with others akin to you. Would be like a slumber party really, getting to indulge in fantasies that haven’t left the confines of your sick little head. Dad is looking on ahead, glassy-eyed and sad. And you kind of get it now, what you’ve heard about dad being easy back when he was younger. Not easy, but soft. Pliant against his own will, even when he has the capacity to say no, you’ve given him plenty of chances to say no.
“Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.” That’s a promise, you’re worked up from therapy with the cleaner version of dad. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to do this ever again.” Unless you want too is left unsaid. You hope the implications are clear enough, that he’s picking up what you’re putting down, but dad is slow in that sense. He’s a hands-on type of guy.
You give him a minute, dad blinks, and there’s no explicit refusal, so you lift up to wriggle out of your jeans. Dad’s come undone a little easier, he raises his hips when you ask him to do so, and he flinches when you unzip them - fingers coming into contact with the softness of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Leon’s not hard. It’s a blow to your already crippled ego, then again you’ve heard mom talk about Viagra to him before - so maybe it’s not a ‘my kid is groping my dick’ issue, but more of an old age issue.
The tip is velvety on your skin when you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband to tug them down, with the way he’s reclined back in his seat, his dick flops onto his stomach. Heavy and stagnant, much like dad himself. Doesn’t spring up and whack you in the face like dicks tend to do in porn, doesn’t have a mind of its own, it just sits there awkwardly.
Leon closes his eyes, you notice how ragged his breathing is and wonder if he’s getting any enjoyment out of this, or if he’s two minutes away from flatlining. To comfort him, you stroke a hand over his cheek, fingers curling beneath his square jaw as your other hand curls around his flaccid cock. He flinches, and for the first time in your life, you see dad cry. And it turns you on. The last time was when you were born, you don’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but he reiterates it every birthday.
“Oh, dad,” Your brows knit together, “I didn’t… Please don’t cry, I really didn’t mean to upset you, dad. Gosh, I’m just, I just needed to do this dad— Can you speak to me, please? I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon’s voice wavers, his body is wracked with shivers, chills prickling his spine, “I want to make you happy.” You’re all he's got, you and mom are the only speck of normalcy in dad’s life and you’ve gone and ruined it. For reasons even your counsellor couldn’t process, reasons that are unfathomable to you. A prion disease so severe that even your therapist likely fears there’s no chance. “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and your stomach hurts.
“Dad, don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” You lift your hips once more, spitting on your palm and smearing it over his dick has done little for lube, but he’s not all that big - and you’re dripping down your thighs, it’ll be an easy fit, ‘cause dad made you. Half of you is him, and that means he’ll be just right. “It’s not your fault.” You tell him, but you doubt it lifts the guilt from his shoulders, it weighs down his tender heart instead.
Dad doesn’t think that way. He blames everything on himself. Leon’s the one that raised you, he's the one that went wrong. You don’t know how else to tell him there’s something sick inside your head, and it’s infected every single part of you.
It’s hard to guide him into your hole, the tip bumps over your twitching clit a couple of times, up and down your slippery folds as you try to line him up. Leon’s face twists when you take him in, walls breached by the tip alone, you wonder if he’s relieved to find out you’re a virgin. You’ve been saving it for dad, didn’t know the opportunity would come so soon. Your cunt squelches when you take him to the hilt, squeezing around his shaft till he hardens inside of you. There we go, so dad does like you after all? Or is this a natural response? Or is he thinking of someone else, his eyes have been closed for an awfully long time.
“Dad, will you look at me, please?” That’s the second time you’ve asked so nicely and he obeys all the same, cracking open his eyes, foggy like stained glass, just as bright too.
Two hands come to rest on your torso, Leon’s keeping you at arms length. You want dad to let you in. The rocking off your hips elicits the slightest groan from his parted lips, you grind yourself into his lap, fat head leaking and jabbing at that spongy spot deep inside. See? Dad’s made for you. Dad knows you.
“Dad,” You whimper, clammy forehead sticking to his, the tip of your nose bumping his broad one, it’s romantic you think. In the same way A View from the Bridge is romantic - to you and you only. “I love you… I love you so much.” His hips jolt upwards, dad’s sensitive you suppose, he didn’t mean to do it ‘cause his face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust.
Shakily, you take his bigger hand in yours, he’s limp in your grip. You jam his hand between your sweaty bodies, force him to rub them against your thrumming clit. Dad does it. ‘Cause he loves you, if you didn’t get that by now. His thumb rubs figure eights into your bud, the nimble touch, along with dad’s dick right where you want it, lodged deep inside your pussy - it tips you right over the edge.
Your thighs tremble, snapping shut around his hand, and his cock slips out. He’s only got a semi, or maybe he came earlier, but you don’t know much about dick specifics so you curl into his chest, and dad holds you tight even after you totally violated the poor guy.
“Should clean up ‘fore mom gets home.” Leon’s voice is unsteady, lilting up and down, all over the place. God, did you make dad cry again, you stupid bitch?
“Yeah,” You agree, scratching the back of your head ‘cause what do you even say after fucking your dad? Couldn’t even ask google that. “Dad, do you still like me?”
“I love you,” He answers instinctively, “I’ll love you no matter what you do to me, kid.”
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flower shop girl. miya osamu x fem!reader
+ tags & warnings; not proofread
+ a/n; i wrote this at 2am last night as the idea came to me as i tried to sleep so keep that in mind </3
“Just go give him some flowers Y/N it doesn’t have to be in a romantic way, just a nice neighbourly worker gesture!” Your coworker, Emi suggested.
“I’m pretty sure Osamu-san would take it the wrong way, Emi…”
“But Osamu-san brings us onigiri all the time! So it’s not weird unless you make it weird, Y/N.”
You couldn’t deny your feelings towards Osamu have grown since you started working at the florist. It started with you going to get some lunch and wanting to try “Onigiri Miya” which was located across the road from your work. All your coworkers could only ever speak positively about Osamu’s onigiri. And after trying it you could not blame him. The onigiri was a masterpiece, it was a perfect triangular delight that fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. The outer layer was crafted from expertly seasoned sticky rice. The rice was perfect, not too dry nor too mushy. When the nori seaweed wrapping peeled back a symphony of flavours unfold. It felt as if Osamu had crafted a masterpiece with something as simple as Onigiri.
However, it wasn’t just the onigiri that stirred something within you; it was Osamu Miya himself. Osamu was fine. More than fine to be honest, he himself was like a Greek god. His physique from his volleyball days had slightly decreased since quitting and pursuing the store, but he was still in beautiful shape. The black Onigiri Miya shirt hugged his body just right. His hair was always slightly messy when he came over to the florists from the Onigiri Miya hat. Not only was he hot, he was funny. Everytime you would see him he would crack some jokes that never failed to put a smile on your face. Not only that despite his more dead-pan face, Osamu was great with his customers. He knew them like the back of his hands, he cared, was passionate and he was funny. God, the true triple threat.
“Plus if Osamu finds it cute, maybe your little crush will go further~.” Emi teased.
You gave her a nasty side-eye in return to her snarky comment. “Okay fine, I’ll bring some flowers to Osamu-san after my shift, if that will make you shut it.” Emi’s face lit up at the comment, “BUT. There is a catch. I get to tell Osamu-san it is a gift from the store for all the onigiri he gives us. Deal?”
“Fine, deal.”
“So… Emi… What flowers do I give Osamu-san?” You say awkwardly.
“Well I would recommend tulips - pink tulips in particular if you don’t want it to be romantic. They convey good wishes, yet non-romantic love and affection. Or maybe some daffodils! To celebrate new beginnings and goo-” Emi rambled.
“Y’know what Emi? I think I’ll just make a bouquet myself…” you mumble as you walk off.
You loved Emi but god she could get on your nerves.
You begin taking your time putting together a bouquet for Osamu. Nothing romantic, but also beautiful enough to put the wrong idea in Osamu’s head. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic, just a nice gesture. Despite your admiration for Osamu, you barely knew the guy. He could have a girlfriend or even worse a wife. And you were no home-wrecker. You had finally decided on a bouquet with pinks and whites, with pink carnations, white roses and baby's breath flowers. It was simple, effective and didn't give Osamu the wrong idea, perfect.
“Emi-chan I’m clocking out now~” You call out to your coworker.
“Don’t forget your bouquet, Y/N-san! I’m sure Osamu is going to fall head over heels for you and you two will have like the cutest romance story ever! And I Can say I planned it ALL and I better be a bridesmaid and-”
“Yup, okay Emi.” You say giving her a weak smile and a wave as you walk out.
You crossed the road and walked into Onigiri Miya, the bell jingling as the door opened. Osamu raised his head to greet the customer who entered.
“Welcome! Ho- Oh, it’s one of the flower shop girls. What can I do for ya?” He smiled.
“Oh Osamu-san! I have a gift for you from m- us over at the flower shop because your always so nice to us and bring us onigiri and stuff and we just wanted to say thank you and-”
He cuts you off from your awkward mess of a speech, “Thanks flower shop girl.” He said walking over to you, grabbing the flowers from your hand. “And don’t ya worry yer pretty little head about it, sweetheart.” He examined the bouquet in front of him, looking at the array of flowers. “It’s beautiful…?”
“L/N Y/N.”
“It’s beautiful, L/N-san. What flowers did ya use?” Osamu asks out of curiosity.
“Oh well I used white roses which you can obviously see, and some baby’s breath. The pink touch is some pink carnations, my personal favourite flower! They also express gratitude and stuff… so it’s cool I guess…”
“Well I am super grateful for the gift, L/N.” Osamu smiled.
“Oh uhm… You’re welcome! I have to get going now, Osamu-san!” You say waving as you speed walk to the door. Osamu just waves in confusion in response to your awkward actions.
“God Y/N, why are you so awkward?” You silently cuss yourself out as you walk away.
Days have passed since your very awkward flower delivery to Osamu. The interaction still haunts your mind like a bad dream, that’s what you wished it was. As you care for the flowers towards the back of the door, a familiar figure walks in. Osamu Miya. Just your luck, you gave him an awkward smile before continuing your work. Osamub slowly walks over to your coworker, Maki.
“How can I help you Miya-san?” Maki asks.
“Just wondering if you have any bouquets of pink carnations?” Osamu says, looking around the store, attempting to find some.
“Oh we just got some in before, they are a popular choice at the moment. Y/N sells them quite well, they are her favourite after all.” Maki smiles.
“Well Y/N has some good taste then, they are also a personal favourite of mine.”
“Really! I would not expect that from you Miya! You give off like jasmine vibes.” Maki laughs.
“I only recently found out what carnations are, a very pretty girl said they were her favourite and they just remind me of ‘er.”
A red blush swipes over your face at Osamu’s comment. Were you , the pretty girl? Surely not. Carnations are a common favourite flower and Osamu must know lots of pretty girls, I mean just take a look at him.
Osamu continues his chat with Maki, checking out for his bouquet of flowers. “Thanks so much Miya-san!”
However, Osamu doesn’t leave the store, his steps bring him towards you. He holds the bouquet out towards you, “here flower shop girl. Heard ya like ‘em.”
“Oh really?” You sarcastically respond.
“Yeah, a friend told me.” He jokes back, “a friend also told me I should ask you out on a date, pretty girl. So whatdya say?”
“I’d love to, Osamu.” You smile shyly.
“Tomorrow night at 7pm. Are you free?”
“For you? I guess I could make some time…”
©slut4msby.
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killing me softly (with her song)
lovesick sana x fem reader ; thriller, yandere
summary: in which sana finds herself rapidly loosing grasp over herself, all just for you
warnings: blood, violence, sana being actually insane (i want her ^_^) kidnapping — ty to @jsluvtzu for being such a help during this fic :]
step— step— step
sana’s gentle on her feet, sun beaming down on her while she hums to some 70s R&B— smile plastered on her face.
she beams to those she passes, beams to the stray cats and dogs who roam the streets, beams to everything inanimate, the eagerness in her body manifesting itself in that first-love smile.
she smiles when she walks into the convenience store, quick to grab some random soft drink that she felt inclined to buy after the cute character on it smiled at her.
and of course, she smiles at the cashier when she places the beverage on the counter, moving to fish out her wallet— wait.
she looks back up, brows knitted as she glances to you. and suddenly, sana feels frozen.
you— smiling softly at her, long lashes fluttering with each blink, lips plump and pink.
“are you alright?”
sana breaks out into another smile, moving back to her bag, fetching the wallet, “just fine, miss…?” she looks back up, watching your delicate hands scan the drink, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, watching you.
“y/n.” you hum, typing in something quick on the screen, before turning back to sana, grin just a little wider— which sana credits to herself.
“nice to meet you, y/n. you’re very pretty.”
sana was never opposed to being blatantly honest.
you giggle, sliding the beverage over the counter to sana, looking up at her through your lashes, sana feels her heart stop.
“thank you, ma’am. have a good day.”
she can’t move, again, she doesn’t want to either. she doesn’t want this to end, not yet, it can’t. she simply stares, right into your eyes until someone behind her scoffs, shaking her from the paralysis.
—
sana is quick to recognize the infatuation that mixes in her— no, scratch infatuation, she’s sure it’s love. and she needs, needs to see you again.
didn’t matter the lack of words exchanged, didn’t matter the lack of time spent, sana was dead set on this.
and that’s why she’s here, back roaming down the street, baggy track pants and tight top, hair done all pretty, just for you. smile still settled on her face.
ding!
the bell of the door chimes, echoing in the store, and once she turns to the desk, she sees you. hair half up half down this time, wavy layers set on your back. you turn at the sound of the ding, eyes locking on sana’s, smile growing on your face.
relief.
she sighs, smile softening on her face as she pauses, hand stuttering as it raises to wave at you. she curses herself.
you wave back, no hesitation, giving a quick smile before turning to the customer in front of you, smile still on your face.
jealousy?
sana’s brows furrow, but she shakes it quick, letting herself go back to the fridges.
this time, sana opts to grab a water bottle, bitter taste still in her mouth after seeing how you looked at someone who wasn’t her. the disgusting feeling bubbles deep inside her, but enough to be pushed down— enough to be covered by sana’s unwavering excitement to just talk to you again.
she slugs over to the desk, stretching out the time spent getting there to avoid seeing you with someone else, just the thought corrupting her mind, paining her.
she stares down at her feet as she walks, before hearing you.
“hi again.” your tone is flirty, and effectively shoots sana’s head up, butterflies replacing whatever negative feelings that were looming within her.
whatever grimace that was on her face was easily replaced by a larger than life grin, gently setting the water on the table before you. “hey.”
“just a water today?” you tilt your head and sana swears you’re the cutest thing, she wishes so badly she could grab you up right now.
“uh, yeah.” she mutters, thinking of all the things she could do if you were just hers. she spaces in her thoughts while she admires you, admires the small hum and nod you make, admires it all. she needs to have you.
“alright, pay whenever you’re ready.” you’re looking up at her again, deja vu hitting from the last time she was in this position.
instead of freezing, sana quickly pays, not forgetting to throw you a smile.
“you live around here?” her voice is a little low, and the question is definitely a little odd. your face shifts, and sana grits her teeth, why would she give it up so quick? self anger bubbles in her, not noticing when your expression relaxes,
“yeah, just down the street actually.”
her eyes widen, did you really answer? did you really just reveal that to a stranger? she’s back to smiling, because now she knew you must’ve felt the same back, right?
—
the air is cold, flushing sana’s cheeks despite the sweatsuit she had covering her body, definitely one size too large for her.
but, that was just what she needed, to be shrouded from any curious eyes. to not be perceived as sana, just as a random person.
she stands by a tree, eyeing the apartment building before her, patiently awaiting your arrival. or, maybe not so patiently.
she’d waited, and waited, and waited. sitting in the parking lot until your shift was up, only to follow your car up until you pulled into the parking garage of your complex.
she tilted her head, growing more impatient, trying to remind herself that it was worth it for you. but she couldn’t help the simmering anger because where were you? were you with someone? why was it taking so long?
she cracked her knuckles, then her neck, almost ready to run to the parking garage to find you, until,
you.
long hair cascading down your back, flowing like waves, uniform off, now dressed down in a tee and sweats, soft bracelets decorating your wrist.
sana’s face softened, anger eased inside of her. she eyes you as you pushed your hair back, exposing your gorgeous neck, the one sana wanted to mark up so badly.
god, she needed you.
and god, was it getting so bad.
—
sana couldn’t smile.
not when it had been a whole 16 hours without having seen you.
she was angry, anger near boiling over at this point. she’d been trying to play the long game to have you, but that just felt impossible. you were seraphic, and absolutely divine.
the need was at its height, sana’s heart tightening every minute she wasn’t seeing you.
your social presence was absolutely non-existent, sana has tried, to no avail. she’d do anything to satiate her need, anything for you to finally be hers to see, and only hers.
she was walking, more sprinting, to your work.
baggy white tee pressed flush to her body from the force of the wind, black track pants perfectly loose, cap snug on her head.
her earbuds were on, shuffling her favorite playlist, every song drawing her thoughts deeper into you. you, you, you.
the moonlight beamed down on her, shadowing the top half of her face, her expression blank. sana had never felt so overcome with emotions, and she felt as if she could kill.
she huffed once she reached the store, opening the door wide, only to receive ignorance from you.
sana gritted her teeth harder, about ready to go grab you right then and there, only to realize the man standing in front of you. she immediately paused her music, leaning her head forward just a bit.
his hands were pressed against the counter, leaning over to try and get closer to you. sana felt her eye twitch. he was muttering nonsense, definitely incoherent from where sana stood, now analyzing the man, his dark green tee shirt, navy blue pants. she noted any stand out features, like the over the top sneakers he wore, or the bold rings on his fingers.
sana let her expression fall slack once more, taking careful steps toward him now.
by now, you’d noticed sana, noticed the lack of bright smile she usually wore, noticed the lack of the bubbly girl you knew.
the guy was rambling, chattering about how perfect your body was, how badly he wanted to fuck you in, and you could nearly gag.
once sana could actually make out what he was saying, she immediately felt her blood run hot. felt the way her head was suddenly ringing, the urge burning within her to hurt, and when she turned to meet your expression, seeing your teary eyes, she could hardly hold any of it back.
her breaths came harder as she closed in on the boy, hands tempted to grab the pocket knife in her back pocket, but she opted for something more simple. only because you were watching, of course.
“excuse me.”
sana rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, making sure to lock a firm grip against him. she heard him swear, trying to shimmy out of her grip, struggling hard as sana just tilted her head— a spider watching its prey writhe.
“what do you think you’re doing, freak!” he shouted, sana saw as you flinched, and immediately tugged him harder, forcing him away from the counter.
“don’t you find that ironic? you’re here harassing a girl, specifically, my girlfriend.” sana knew it wasn’t true, not yet, but pride soared in her heart, despite the disgusting situation. you didn’t react apart from a faint blush rising to your cheeks, sana wanted to smile, but as long as this man was in her perspective, she couldn’t enjoy you as thoroughly.
in sana’s head, that was the worst crime.
“leave.” she growled, swinging her arm and pushing him in the direction of the door. he just stood there, eyeing her before, swiftly turning away, heading in the direction of the parking lot— sana chose to keep that tight in her memory.
she looked back to you, seeing the relief wash over your face, and finally, she could enjoy you, no distractions, no one else, just you.
her own relief settled in her body, taking small steps forward to the register, giving you a warm smile.
“are you alright?”
you could only stare back at her, eyes watering, before you reached out to tug her into a hug.
sana felt her heart race, if looking at you was enough to make her heart flutter; then how could she even define how she felt having you holding her tight?
she immediately swung arms around you as best as she could from across the counter, nuzzling her nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.
she exhaled shakily, her body now on its own accord, feeling nearly everything at once.
“i was so scared.” you mumbled into her neck, the vibrations sending a pulse of need coursing through her body.
“it’s okay.” sana mumbled, petting your hair now with one hand, fingers occasionally brushing your neck. skin so soft and hair so silky, sana wanted her hands on you forever.
she felt you move to pull away, and as much as she wanted to hold on forever, she did have newfound business to attend to.
“did you… did you need something?” you asked, eyeing sana up and down, only worsening her wants from you.
she most definitely needed something, but that can wait.
“i- uh, i was just in the area, actually.” she excused, lifting hands to wave around as she spoke.
you slowly nodded, glancing up and down one more time.
“well, you look pretty today.” you smiled, fluttering your lashes at her. oh, god were you making this hard.
“you always look gorgeous, y/n.” she replied, eyes never daring to leave yours. you blushed, looking away and shrugging.
“well, i should probably get going. make it home safe tonight.” sana muttered, fighting an inner battle to leave, but when a customer walked in, she knew she had to make her move.
“alright, bye sana. see you.”
—
sana was out the door, clicking play on her music, turning it up, enough to muffle the sounds around her, but to not fully close off her hearing.
she tugged her cap down lower, slipping her pocket knife into her hand, then stuffing said hand into her front pocket, still clutching it tight.
she peeked over the edge of the wall, immediately catching the man, his rings shining from the lamp he leaned against, the light softly flickering to illuminate him just right. just enough for sana to tell it was him.
she smiled, soft on her face as her eyes narrowed.
strumming my pain with his fingers
she cracked her neck, swooping past the wall into view, man not bothering to glance up from his phone. she took casual steps, not bothering to sneak around, not like it’d matter.
crunchhh!
she raises a brow, not bothering to look at whatever she stepped on, opting to crunch it harder under her foot, undoubtedly gaining the attention of the man before her.
he glances up, confusion ridden on his face, clicking his phone off and into his pocket. the lights flicker.
“what are you doing?”
one time, one time
it’s hard to make him out, especially at the distance, but sana could tell given the situation what he was saying.
“couldn’t i ask you the same thing?” she takes a step closer, foot kicking back whatever she stepped on. her fingers toy with the knife in her pocket, tracing the cool metal with her fingertips. she pauses, eyeing him curiously, catching his jaw clench between flickers.
“is it any of your business?” he scoffs, pushing leg back from the post, moving forward, just enough to be shadowed from the light, only his silhouette visible.
“is it not?” her fingers tease the latch to open the knife, brushing over it gently, her own jaw tightening.
“i don’t really think it is, miss.” he chuckles, closing in closer.
singing my life with his words
“is that so?” her tone is flat, pressing closer, now within arms length of the man, posture straight and head tilted up, rim of her cap still down.
“yeah, unfortunately it is. why don’t you head home?” he nods at her, motioning her to leave, hands at his front, crossed at his chest.
sana feels her blood boil, a raw rage enveloping her body, a scary one. the bloodlust making her lose control of her own actions. she needed this man to suffer at her hand, he deserved it, did he not?
she takes another step closer, man raising a brow, letting out a low scoff-like laugh.
her mouth partially opens, heavy pants falling from her lips, before she retracts her fist, swinging as hard as she could.
crrrack!
sana licks her lips, the feeling of bone beneath her own knuckles euphoric, “fuck.” she mutters, grin settling on her face.
the man stumbles back, groaning and pulling a hand up to his jaw, rubbing only to cry out, pain only enhancing at his meek attempts to soothe.
“what’s— fuck, what’s wrong with you?!” he shouts, jaw dropped, brows furrowed, fingers clenching to fists before him.
“are you not the one sitting here waiting to harass a woman?” sana frowns, walking to where the man stumbled, digging her foot to the top of his, making him wince.
"you--! you bitch!"
he swings.
and he hits.
two times, two times
sana feels her stomach start to burn, slightly hunching over to cough, bringing her empty hand to her mouth. and when she pulls it away, she sees red, thick in the palm of her hand, and it only makes the vexation in her build. she forces out a chuckle, beyond shocked at the pure mistake this man made.
"fuck, you're gonna regret that so bad." sana manages to laugh out, voice hoarse as she glances back up to the guy, his face contorted in one of fear.
sana trudges over to him, soft giggles escaping between her huffs for air.
he stills, too scared to move, a deer in headlights when sana looks up at him. she lifts her other hand to him, object in her grasp undefinable, before she flicks her finger back, blade clicking into position, pointed directly at his neck.
killing me softly with his song
sana drives her hand forward, effectively slicing the corner of the man’s neck, smile growing on her face as he begins to plead for mercy, pleads that he’ll ‘do anything!’.
she loves it.
she tugs the knife out, blood splatting on the side of her face, from neck to the middle of her cheek, warmth seeping into her skin, she can only smile harder.
“p-please! anything! i’ll do anything at all!” his voice is strangled, and one of his hands rises to the gash at the side of his throat, not center enough to cause major damages, just a whole lot of pain.
sana rolls her eyes, scoffing, attitude to his pleasing seemingly changed.
“you already messed with my y/n, do you think anything on this planet is enough to compensate for that?” sana sees red, in far more than one way.
she grabs his shoulder, similarly to how she was before, but now she could act freely on those urges she felt, digging the blade into his side.
killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words.
she’s precise, choosing not to end him quick, no, no, sana wants this to really last.
“how does that feel? tell me and maybe i’ll think about letting you go.” she tries not to laugh, she’d never think about letting him go, but she just loves the desperate pleas.
“c-cold!” it’s near a scream, and sana just can’t have that.
the knife twists in his side, squelching and cracking echoing in the lot as his body is turned to mush.
he yells out again, sana rolling her eyes, seems he can’t take a clue.
“fucking loser, i bet this is the most attention a woman has ever given you.”
she drags the knife out of the sloppy mess in the side of his body, admiring the blood as it shimmers with the moon, thick and deep red. sana feels a new pressure in her stomach, one of something more sinful.
“fuck…”
she can only imagine how pretty your blood would be.
she shakes the thought, smacking herself softly with the tip of the knife, more sticky red coating her face, now up to her brow.
“focus, sana!”
she turns back to the man, now grasping his stomach on the floor, quietly groaning in pain, eyes firmly shut. he tries to push his body away from her and it’s just so pathetic.
she shakes her head, how weak.
sana drops to her knees, eyes lingering over the mess of his body. she inhales, content, and exhales, ready to finish what she started.
“this was deserved, you and i both know it.”
she sinks the blade into his chest, watching as he spasms on the ground, delighted when the blood spurts up onto her tee and her arms. he twitches, just a little longer, and sana tilts her head, admiring it, such a raw moment, the last ones this man would ever live. his twitching starts to stutter, fading out as he goes limp, sana sighing, sinking the blade in a little deeper, just to hear the messy wet sound it makes.
killing me softly with his song
she hums, swiftly drawing the knife out of him, standing up to enjoy her work, pulling the knife up to tap on her own neck, occasionally tracing it over her pulse point, such little pressure away from sinking in. she pauses her music, sighing to herself, listening to the rustle of trees and beyond.
and then, she catches it, the closing of the front door to your work.
fuck.
sana looks around, only seeing some smaller pallets and a large trash can to duck behind, both unfortunately close to the only car in the lot, which must’ve been yours.
fuck.
sana bolted back, tucking herself behind the trash can, peeking through the pallets to try and see what happens.
she didn’t mean for you to see this, never, so when she watches you round the corner, jaw dropping and hand rising to your mouth in fear, her heart burns.
you scream, knees buckling as you fall to the floor, eyes wide in horror. you cant find any words, or any motivation to move, just shock coursing through your veins as you stare at the mangled body mere inches from your car.
sana pouts, seeing the fear written on your face and she huffs, forcing herself to look away before she tries to run out there and comfort you.
she throws her head back, pure instinct before realizing what she did, the echoey thud of the trash can making her cringe.
fuck.
you hear it, obviously, eyes even larger than before, moving to your feet, trying not to step on anything loud.
the only way out is your car, parked directly next to the trash can, so with the steadiest steps you can, you move to the vehicle.
sana, thinks you’re trying to see who made that sound, her hand immediately moving to her mouth, preventing any sound from slipping, any breath from falling. this could be it for her, for you, for the two of you. the thought alone made the worst sinking feeling settle in her. tears burned at her eyes, hands shaking and grip getting tighter over the knife.
but before she knew it, her panic came to halt, hearing you unlock and slam the car door.
sana lives another day.
—
it’s 3:24 pm
sana feels like she’s going insane, she hasn’t seen you in a day and a half now, and you weren’t at work when she checked yesterday, much to her dismay.
in fact, the whole place has been closed temporarily after the killing, so she had to take matters into her own hands to bump into you.
so all morning, she’d been doing laps around your apartment complex, silently praying she bumps into you, praying she can see you now.
she reaches the the front of your complex once more, stopping at the bench that sits in front to take a breather, as she has every lap now. she lifts her tee up, patting her sweat from her forehead, then moving to her neck, tilting her head back just a little.
“sana?”
her heart stops.
she drops everything she’s doing, turning and meeting, of course, your eyes.
“y-y/n?” she’s beyond ecstatic, not even bothering to hide her excitement, eyes widening and smile starting to stretch on her face.
you chuckle, shaking your head slightly before walking over to her, sitting right next to her.
“what are you doing here?” you smile, grabbing one of her hands in your own— it’s a perfect fit, her bigger hands enveloping your smaller ones. you’re just so so soft and perfect all over.
“i could ask you the same right?” sana laughs, lie rolling off her tongue easily.
“i guess you’re right, i live right around here.” you shrug, eyes lowering to her lips. she grins.
“yeah? me too. i usually come around her for cardio, it’s peaceful.”
she wasn’t really wrong, recently she had been lurking in this area on her morning runs.
“oh, that’s cool!” you say, looking back up to her eyes, giving her the sweetest smile.
“yeah, you know, i was actually wondering if you maybe wanted to…” sana looks around, she can’t believe she’s actually nervous, not like you’d say no to her, right?
“come over? i can cook you dinner, it’ll be a super laid back home-y date.” she flashes the smile she sent you the first day she saw you, praying to anything that you would say yes, that she’d finally, finally have you where she wants you.
you’d finally be at her hands, from then until forever. just how she wanted.
you look at her, knitting brows together as you thought, looking around before shrugging, smile plastered on your face once more.
“that sounds perfect!”
—
sana was sat, antsy on her couch, knee bouncing up and down as excitement jolted through her body.
she stared at the door, waiting for your knock, opting to watch it for the last hour instead of look at her phone, or even bother cooking the dinner she said she would.
it could all wait for once you woke up.
ding!
sana squeals, rising onto her feet and bouncing to the door, not forgetting to grab her pretty pink handkerchief, doused in a generous helping of chloroform. she put the hand behind her back, stepping up to the door before swinging it open.
and you looked stunning.
you hair was done all pretty, makeup too, and you wore the perfect jeans and feminine top. sana just couldn’t wait.
“y/n!” she smiled, opening the door a little wider, motioning with her head to come in.
“hi sana.” you giggled back. the lack of smell in the house confused you, but maybe she waited to cook until you arrived, so you shrugged it off, standing and admiring the large penthouse before you.
“wow sana, it’s so pretty here!” you hummed, clasping your hands togetehr in front of you.
“ah, thanks y/n, that means a bunch.” she lingers behind you; watching as you excitedly glance around.
“so, what’s the plan for— mmph!”
your cut off as soon as your turn to her, her hand pressing the cloth to your nostrils and mouth, other one locking around your waist, ensuring you don’t move while the anesthetic kicks in.
“hey, don’t worry, y/n. it’ll be fine, really.” she smiles, eyes softening as you tried to wiggle out of her grasp. she pulls you closer, bodies flush together and her lips gracing your ear, it’s a bit uncomfortable for her hand that’s pressed against your mouth, but it’s okay for sana to bare.
“don’t make this harder than it has to be, baby. i’m gonna treat you like the princess you are, no need to fight that right?” her breath is hot and damp in your ear, and sends a shudder down your spine. you start to feel more dizzy, your struggles to escape backfiring as you panted in more air.
“that’s a good girl, relax for me baby, i swear, i’ll love you just right.”
she pushes the two of you to the couch, you very clearly stumbling, pulling the both of you into it, where sana grabs the remote, clicking play, and starting up her favorite song. humming along to it gently as she holds you tight, pressing kisses into your hair.
strumming my pain with his fingers
you feel yourself slipping, eyes harder to keep open.
singing my life with his words
sana sings along into you, vibrations only easing your further into slumber, you try so hard to hold on, but you know there’s no use.
“that’s it, that’s my baby, just let go for me.”
you start to slip, feeling yourself on the brink of passing out, the drowsiness striking hard. and the next time you blink, you’re out.
killing my softly with his song
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Law breaker
Pairing: Police officer!reader x dealer!wanda
Summary: After months of chasing after a mystery dealer, you finally catch her.
Warning: SMUT, um mentions of drugs, bottom!wanda, degradation?, hand cuffs, fingering, praising, pet names (pretty girl, darling, sweetheart, etc.), Reader teases the hell out of Wanda |
A/N: Idk what I’m writing | My brain sparked this idea after reading an Ellie fanfic by ourautumn86, so this is inspired | This fic is all over the place |
―✦―
You panted as you ran down multiple streets. You saw a deal being held between two people while you were patrolling. One surrendered but the other, they ran off.
You could only catch a glimpse of them before they ran off. It was a female, she had a black shirt, skirt and coat. (Emo). In addition, a cross necklace traced over her neck.
You picked up the pace when you saw her cut into an alley. Turning the corner, you saw that it was a dead end. She didn’t turn around, you shouted out to her.
“Police! Put your hands up!”
She exhaled and raised her hands, turning around slowly. Once she fully turned, you walked quickly towards her. She put her hands down and winced lightly as you cuffed them.
You turned her around, closely scanning her face. You recognized her, the mysterious dealer that you’ve been chasing for a while. You looked closer at her features, noticing her pink lips and precious freckles.
You knew you were shamelessly checking her out. She noticed this and licked her lips. “Do you really have to put these tight handcuffs on?” she asked with an innocent look. You looked at her with a poker face. Although a smirk threatened to tug at your face.
“I have to keep a hold of you,” you stated “don’t need you running away.” She chuckled as you tightened your hold on her. You looked into her eyes, seeing how they dilated when you spoke.
“Do you always work alone so late?” she asked. You didn’t answer, but you walked her back to where your cop car was. You opened the door and placed your hand on her head, pushing her into the car.
You closed the door and headed to the other sid of the car. But you didn’t go into the driver’s seat. You opened the back door on the other side of the car.
She looked at you in confusion, wondering what you were doing. You just smirked at her, sliding into the seat. You observed her expression, she looked nervous and confused. Your smirk widened, she looked cute, for a criminal.
“Don’t worry, I just wanna ask some questions.” you said with fake reassurance. She nodded, and you scooched closer to her. You leaned in, “What’s your name?” you asked. “Wanda” she answered simply, you hummed.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” you said with another smirk. Wanda’s face flushed from your comment, she squirmed a bit. You leaned closer, your lips almost touching here.
“Now, who’ve you been selling the drugs to?” you said firmly. She didn’t answer, choosing not to spill anything. You narrowed your eyes, “I don’t like repeating myself sweetheart.” you stated. “But I’ll ask you again, who did you sell the drugs to?” you said but more demanding.
She quivered under your gaze but still didn’t say anything. Seeing as this wouldn’t go anywhere, you tsked. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this the hard way.”
You pushed your head into her neck and kissed it in multiple areas. A shiver went up her spine, feeling sensitive from the touch. You smiled mischievously, “Oh, sensitive are we?” Wanda almost moaned but held back, not wanting to embarrass herself.
She almost couldn’t believe herself right now. Having sex with a cop? It seemed even more crazy in her head. She took in a deep breath as she felt you bite her.
You gently caressed her soft thighs, pinching them every few times. She wimpered at your touchs on her skin. She mumbled under her breath, and you lifted your head from her neck. “What was that?”
“M-More” she stated more loudly. You could’ve given her what she wanted right there. But you wanted to tease, “Ah, what’s the magic word?”
”Please?” she answered quickly.
“Atta girl” you praised, your fingers crawling up to her core. You felt the fabric of her skirt, then her panties. She was soaking wet, you were gonna have fun with this.
Pushing the wet fabric aside with your fingers, sliding a finger up her pussy. Causing her to whine, you looked up at her. “What are you whining for, you wanted more right?” you asked.
“Please, d-don’t tease me” she whined. You wanted to do the opposite but, you decided to give her what she wanted. You pushed two fingers inside, she was so wet it was easy for them to slide in.
She moaned but was muffled by her biting her lip. You frowned at this and stopped moving your fingers. She looked at you in confusion. “I wanna hear how much pleasure I’m giving you.” you stated confidently. She nodded swiftly, just wanting the pleasure to start again.
Your fingers continued at a steadied, hitting deeper than before. Wanda mouth opened wide, sweet mewls spilling out. She felt herself clench around your fingers.
“Look at you, taking me so good.”
She let out a whimper at the praise. Moaning loudly as you picked up a faster pace. She felt embarrassed at the sounds her pussy was making. That soon passed once she felt her climax coming near. She placed her hand on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. You placed your thumb upon her clit, smirking when you heard her gasp.
“You need to cum baby?,” you asked, and she quickly nodded. “Beg” you demanded in a stern tone. “Please officer, I need to cum please” she begged in a whiny voice. Your fingers picked up their pace and she threw her head back.
You thought she looked absolutely astonishing like this. Head thrown back, face scrunched up, mouth wide open in a silent scream. You felt her tighten around your fingers once again.
You moaned lightly when you felt her make a mess all over your fingers. You slowly pulled them out, watching as Wanda caught her breath. You brought your fingers to your mouth, licking her juices off of them.
She brought her head down to look at you. She blushed when she saw you looking her dead in the eye. The mischievous smirk you had on your face made her want to shrink.
“Look at the mess you made.” you said in a low voice. She just stared at you with lidded eyes. Sitting up, you narrowed your eyes.
“Now, time for business, my little lawbreaker.”
—✦—
A/N: It took me too long to finish this.
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💗🎀
If you don't celebrate easter you can just ignore this, cause I know not everyone's religious (I grew up in a predominately catholic home 😃) and I'm not religious anymore soooooo ye.
"Oh my good Look at this!" You screech from excitement, The very dusty bunny costume in hand. Your mom sat next to you, baby photos in hand.
"We should put it on NovaLynn," She suggests, Your babygirl sat in her grandmothers lap playing with the small toys that used to be yours. "Simon!" You yell from downstairs, He comes prancing down the steps shortly, "Look," you smile holding up the easter bunny costume. "What's that?" He says walking over to you three. "It's my bunny costume," You hold it out to him, "It's kind of small no?" You roll your eyes at his corny joke.
"Take a look at this," Your mom hands him the photo of you as baby, wearing the exact same bunny costume, "Doesn't she look just like NovaLynn?" Your Mom, "Dead on." He looks at the photo intently.
"So what's this for?" Simon hands her the photo, taking the costume instead. "For Easter!" Your mother says, You grab Nova from her.
"You don't celebrate Easter?" Your moms brow raises exactly like yours does. "Mom," You warn her, "Uh, no." Simon chuckles awkwardly, "My family, didn't like the holidays." He nods.
"Oh I'm so sorry," She apologizes, "It's fine." he waves her off, taking Nova from your lap, "That's why we have these guys, right?" He places a kiss on her chubby cheek.
-
You stood with your camera in hand, trying to get your toddler to smile at the camera, "Look at me, Nova," you coo, holding the camera up to your face. Simon stood right next to you, doing funny faces, everything in his power to make her smile for the photo.
When you finally got a decent photo, you sat on the floor looking through all of the ones you were gonna print out on your computer. The two bins filled with your baby things tucked away in the corner of your living area.
Simon got up from where you both were sitting, "Can I have a look?" He says, pointing at the two boxes. "Mhm." you hum.
-
"I would've had a total crush on you in school." He looks over you high-school photo album. "No you wouldn't," You snort, looking through your baby photos again. "Yeah I would." He flips through the pages.
"What's this?" He holds up your old Lisa Frank notebook, that had "Sketchbook" written over pink zebra print tape. "My old drawings," you gush, Simon opens the book immediately hit with the smell of Crayola's. "That's lovely." He chuckles at the drawings of mermaids.
"How cute," You hold up your Communion dress and veil, "Tiny wedding dress?" He smiles, confused but in awe of you. "No it's my communion dress." You gush.
"Oh god, I remember being so scared this day." You chuckle, searching for the photos.
Simon watching you, "This is cool." He announces, "To have stuff like this." You stop searching, and turn to look at him, "Are you okay?" Concern on your face, "Just sometimes wished I had something like this." He brushes it off, "But I'm alright," he rubs your back in assurance. "You can start now," You say, "You can give Nova something to look back at when she grows up."
"yeah," He says quietly, "we can print out photos and make photo albums." You rattle on, "Mhm." His eyes on the veil adorned with white beaded flowers. You follow his eyes and then look to the communion dress again, "I'm so glad she doesn't have to do that." You admit, "Why?" Simon places the veil on your head, and you let him "I remember feeling so much pressure at such a young age, and feeling like you couldn't do anything because someone was always watching." You admit while he adjusts it, "I always felt like being a normal teenage girl was wrong, and oh my god when I found I was pregnant with Nova and Not married, I could've sworn I felt the ground opening." You chuckle.
"You and Johnny," Simon chuckled, "I think it's catholic guilt." You snort. "I didn't go to church." Simon says, "I always wanted to though, just to see, And the first time I did was with Johnny." He says.
"Did you like it?" You ask, "It was okay, but I don't think I would do it every Sunday. " He chuckles, "Oh my." You chuckle and roll your eyes. "It's not for everyone. I just did it out of habit, and also so I didn't go to hell, but here we are." You shrug and Simon lets out a small laugh, it quiets down over time, "I prayed when Nova was born." Simon admits,
"I was scared, and I didn't know what to do but I remembered the prayer you said in the shower when you pregnant; Sometimes, when I'm away I say it."
He grabs the small patent leather shoes paying attention to the embroidered design, "Sometimes I think, maybe I've lived this long because of The baby and You, and God knows the lengths I would go if something ever happened to You or her.." He pauses, "So he backs off, and lets me have what I love." Simon looks over at the toddler quietly snoring in the playpen.
"I don't think God is cruel enough to make you suffer anymore loss," You say, rubbing the nape of his neck. "He mad a man choose a Him over his child, I think he's capable." He snorts. "Oh so you listen to my mom when she goes on her rants. " You chuckle. "They're a little over the top but, I still listen." He shrugs.
You shake your head, "She's something." You sigh, "You're a wonderful Dad, Simon." You look in his brown eyes, "She loves you, and So do I." Simon places a kiss on the crown of your head, and gets back to fishing through the box full of baby photos.
what if I told you this was the week before Johnny died... 😆
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Kook for Rent
Dark!Virgin!Topper Thorton x Reader x Dark!Stepbro!Rafe Cameron
Word Count: +1,612
Warning(s): +18, Non con, Bondage, Human trafficking, Mentions of past stepcest, Forced prostitution.
Author's note(s): I've been meaning to finish this off before I deep-dive into studying.
Rafe would consider Topper to be his best friend. So of course, him being the best friend that he is decides to make Topper's dream come true: A chance to fuck his cute stepsister. Rafe is well aware of just how many guys would kill to spend the night with the Kook princess herself. He knows what your market value is and decides to take advantage of the opportunity.
Rafe counts the cash in hand, licking the pad of his thumb before raking through the stack of bills. His dad had cut some of his allowance out for not keeping an eye on Sarah, yet you weren't given the same punishment. It wasn't fair. So, what better idea than to rent you out to his best friend? He smirks at the heavy wad. Topper's family earned well more than his did, one of the few reasons why he tolerates the Kook. That and how he's known him since they were kids. Topper would never turn against him, even if he wanted to.
Rafe knew that Topper was head over heels for you. He's seen the way Topper would glance at you, when he thought no one else was watching. Of course, he wouldn't admit it, he's not the type to cross that boundary unless the feelings were returned. But if given the opportunity, he'd jump your bones. Rafe isn't going to let his friend die a virgin, not if he can help it. As soon as he finishes counting the money he leads his friend down the hallway to where your room was. There you were, bound and gagged to the bedpost.
Rafe made sure you were presentable, after all, Topper is a special guest. This is the first time he's ever ventured into your room. Different pastels and pinks littered the place. A few stuffed animals had been tossed aside in the struggle. Your hair had been messy during the fight. Rafe made sure to dress you in that one slip on that would drive any man crazy. For a moment, Topper couldn't believe it. He'd finally have a chance with the Kook queen herself. Who wouldn't want this? You were everything he's ever dreamed of. Valedictorian, top of their class, hell, you were even prom queen, yet here you were, presented just for him.
Before he could approach any further, Rafe places a hand on Topper's shoulder, "Listen, man, there's a reason why I chose you, I don't want anyone else doing this," He looks his friend dead in the eyes, "It's her first time too y'know?" Rafe eases his friend into it. Topper raises his brows at that statement, his pupils are blown as he looks your way. When would he ever get another chance like this? Both of them are sat on either side of the bed.
You glare at the two men with weary eyes, mascara now running down both cheeks. Each time one of them would approach, a swift kick would be sent their way. Topper had to dodge a few times until Rafe finally took charge. His hands immediately wrapping around your neck and squeezing as hard as he could. He doesn't stop, even when your face starts to change color.
Topper tries pleading with with him, "C'mon man! She can't breathe!" worried that his friend may have taken it too far. Rafe doesn't let go despite Topper's pleas until you almost pass out. When he releases his grip, an angry mark is left behind. You try to catch your breath despite the lack of air. It became clear that the gag wasn't helping one bit. Topper felt weary of the circumstances of how you ended up like this.
Rafe glares at his best friend, "Yeah, but you're still here," he knows how to read people, what makes them bend to his will, "You know she used to have a mouth on her?" he chuckles, "Fixed that shit up," Rafe grabs a leg while you're still drowsy and ties it at the end of the bed frame. He repeats this action for the other leg before laying at your side, "Sometimes you've gotta slap a bitch around, or else they'll feel like they're in charge," pointing a taunting finger in your face, "Remember this, I own your ass, you so much as take another breath, it's because I allowed it," He then raises both hands in the air, nodding for his friend to proceed, "Go on, she won't do that again," he smiles triumphantly.
For a moment, Topper is hesitant. Should he really be doing this? Rafe rolls his eyes, "There's a reason why I chose you, Top," Rafe needed to have Topper trust him, "I could've let Barry fuck her first, but I chose you," Rafe drags down the waistband of your panties, "All this, just for you," revealing the jewel plug to his friend. Topped let out an audible groan at the sight of it. He could feel the strain of his cock swelling under his shorts. Rafe parts your legs for a better angle. His hands grip at each cheek, parting your folds to give Topper a good view. Rafe made sure to lube up that pretty cunt of yours, he left the plug inside your ass in case Topper wanted to pay extra.
Topper juts his hips, he groans at the friction. He rubs his tip in between both breasts. A small trail of precum already leaking through, "F-fuck...she feels so soft..." Rafe made sure you'd use the extra soft lotion, the sparkly kind. Of course, it'd make Topper go crazy, what guy wouldn't? Glitter tits? Is that not every man's dream? He jerks himself off, using your tits for the extra friction. He toyed and played with both breasts until they peaked. His brows furrow, indicating that he was close, "Fuck man...she looks so pretty like this..." In a few seconds he'd already came in heavy waves, choking out a heavy groan before emptying a load. His cheeks were now a vibrant hue from the first round. His eyelids fluttering shut as he spread his seed against your bare chest.
Topper parts from you for a moment to catch his breath. He admires the view below him. More specifically that doe-eyed look on your face. He pokes out his tongue to lick his lips. Rafe drags the chair from your vanity closer to the bed, he plops his feet on your bedside. He lets Topper take charge for now. So far, his best friend was learning fast. Topper wipes at your tears, cooing a string of apologies, "Shh...sh... you're okay..." he swipes a stray tear with the back of his thumb gently. Rafe rolls his eyes at the sentimental act, "Jeez, Top, you're too soft on the slut," He clicks his tongue, alerting his friend to turn around.
Rafe then tilts his head to the bottle of lube and condom placed on the nightstand, "The bitch is already worked up, all you gotta do is fuck her now," as soon as those words hit your ears another muffled scream escapes. You thrash violently against the bindings, ignoring the searing pain of rope being dug into raw skin. Rafe lept from his seat, "Hey, hey, enough of that," he scolds, "I'm protecting you, what do you not understand? It's either Topper or Barry and we both know which one you'd prefer," as if you had a say in any of this. You glare back at the two men, giving them a death stare. It doesn't faze the Cameron heir, not one bit, "Stop being such a fucking baby," Rafe knew you could take much more, so why was Topper being such a fucking softie?
Topper shrugs of his friend, tuning him out as he wrapped himself up. He coats the condom with a light about of gel before rubbing it against your bare folds. He' g's been waiting for this for a long, long time. He presses his tip against the opening, grunting at the sensation, "Fuck...she's really warm," Topper's never felt this good in his life. He starts off at a slow pace, his eyes are mesmerized by the sight of his cock sinking deep into your channel. He carefully pumps his shaft, reveling in the feeling of a warm cunt squeezing him.
Topper groans, "Fuck....I'm really your first huh?" slowly but gently, picking up pace. He was much different than Rafe, gentler. What Thorton hadn't known, was that the Cameron boy had beaten him to it. After catching you sneaking out, Rafe decided that the best form of punishment was to pop your cherry. He hadn't told Topper this. Instead, he wanted to build that level of trust. Even if that meant putting you on the line.
Rafe knew Topper hadn't been with any other girl before. Of course, he wouldn't know the difference. You moan into your gag, eyelids fluttering shut as you fought the approaching orgasm. Rafe licks his lips at the sight of it. His best friend fucking his step-sister shouldn't turn him on this much. But something about it seemed so fucking hot. Shit, maybe he could sell the footage. Make it into an amateur porn. He's been tight on cash recently, might as well put you to good use. But no, he already had enough blackmail to keep you in line. He knows there's no coming back from this. He's already ruined you for any other man. Rafe owns your cunt and ass. He spent weeks making sure to train you well. You were a fighter, yes, but he's much, much stronger.
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okay but like steve or eddie x f!reader and she’s wearing a top that shows off her under boobs and steve or eddie is obsessed with it!!
send me some blurb requests!
steve:
"Well? What do you think?" You twist this way and that in front of the floor-length mirror, admiring the cropped polo shirt that rests stiffly on your shoulders. The fabric is creased from having been folded on the shelf for so long, but it's slowly fitting your form, no longer rigid and awkward-looking.
"I like it," Steve grins at you from the stool he's sitting on behind you, 'I think it looks cute."
"I look like you." You muse, inspecting the collar and noticing that the tag sticks up invasively out of the back.
"No, you look better in a polo than I ever have." A lovesick grin splits Steve's face and your heart swells, but you busy yourself with the tag so that you don't give away how smitten you are. You reach both of your hands behind your neck, subsequently lifting the hem of the shirt to just above the underside of your bra. It's pink and lacy, and Steve's eyes widen.
"You-uh, your bra is showing, honey."
You manage to tuck the tag under the shirt, and it itches against your skin. You have to ignore it, though, because Steve's cheeks are heating up and you realize he's far more flustered than you would have imagined him to be.
"Steve," You giggle, "You can't handle a little underboob?"
"Don't-" He blinks exasperatedly, rubbing a hand over his face, "Don't call it that."
"Why, you like it?" You taunt him further, pointedly stretching so that more of your bra sneaks out from under the hem of the polo.
"Do not do this to me, Y/N." Steve warns, keeping his hands over his eyes, "We're in public."
"We're in a dressing room," You scoff, "You think one of the employees is gonna burst in?"
"They might!" Steve looks pained, peeking from between his fingers, his eyes flitting uncontrollably down to the curve of your bra, "If we get caught, we're dead."
"Then don't get us caught," You grin devilishly, quickly claiming your spot atop his lap and prying his hands away from his face. He glances over your shoulder in the mirror, his hands slipping up your back and disappearing beneath the hem of the polo shirt. He drags the rough fabric up just enough to see the pink clasps of your bra, slowly unhooking them from their latches.
"Absolutely silent, do you understand me?" He stares down at you with a raised brow, his nose brushing your own gently.
You nod eagerly, pressing a kiss to his disapproving frown, "I'll be quiet, Steve, 'promise."
eddie:
Your neck hurts. It's been at an odd angle for hours, cocked sideways while your head rests on Eddie's shoulder. HIs head is sandwiched on top of your own, but you gently raise yours, nudging him awake.
"Eddie," You murmur, shaking his shoulder, "Eddie wake up."
His eyes flutter open and he lets out a sleepy grunt, "Wha- what time is it?"
"I dunno," You grumble, "Late."
A quick glance at his alarm clock tells you that it's 3:45 in the morning, and you tilt your neck to the side, stretching the muscles that had been compressed for so long.
"Fuck," You groan, "My neck hurts."
"I'll give you a massage," Eddie offers cheekily, his cheeky grin perfect despite just waking up seconds before.
"Nice try," You scoff at your best friend, "Perv."
He rolls his eyes at the accusations, though a fond smile creeps over his lips, wrinkling around the edges of his mouth. He slides down the wall, wriggling under the blanket that's messily draped over his bed and staring up at you as you stretch.
Next you focus on your arms, reaching them above your head and letting out a strained sigh when relief floods through your cramped limbs. You tremble slightly at the blissful feeling and Eddie's eyes drag up your quivering torso, catching the soft curve of your breast from underneath the shirt you've got on. It's a tank top with wide arm slots, leaving half of your side exposed. It's cropped on top of that, riding up your chest as you stretch.
His eyes are glued to your skin, the way that your tits sit pretty above the soft skin of your belly absolutely intoxicating to him. His brain runs wild, conjuring up images of his hands cupping them, his tongue wetting them, his teeth grazing them, but then your eyes are meeting his as you're hovering worriedly over him.
"Eddie? Are you okay? I called your name like ten times."
He blinks bewilderedly, clearing his throat and nodding, "Yeah! Yeah, Y/N, I'm fine. Just tired."
"Me too." You smile sweetly at him, admiring the droop of his eyes, "C'mon Eddie, let's go back to sleep."
This time, instead of resting on his shoulder, you rest on his chest. Your cheek is nestled against his shirt, your lips smushed into the fabric as you settle into his chest. Your arm is draped over him, one of your legs curling around his own as you make yourself comfortable.
Eddie can't help but glance down, seeing your boobs squished up by your neck, cleavage strong beneath the hem of your shirt. He lets out a shaky sigh, forcing his eyes shut as he rests a hand on your back, "Night, Y/N."
"Night Eddie," You mumble, your lips moving against his chest, "Love you."
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𝙔𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 - 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴
ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
A/N: submission request from my dearest darling @soraya-daydreams, coming in clutch with the cute ideas.
CW: like one suggestive sentence, almost crack, hints that pixie loves her fashion
“Y/N!” A scream (clearly Nobara) echoed down the corridor of the school as you organised some books in the Jujutsu High library.
“Y/N!” Yuuji, this time.
“Mom!” Unless Akio had miraculously learned how to speak at 6 months old then that was Megumi.
Three figures skidded around the corner, through the library door and landed in a heap of limbs and black, brown and pink hair. You just raised your eyebrows.
“I’ve heard walking slowly causes less injuries, but hey, what do I know?” You smirk, as the kids untangle themselves.
Nobara is clutching a bundle of fabric in her hands, creamy white and brown - clearly something stained.
“Y/N, this is a DEFCON level one emergency - we screwed up like, majorly.” Nobara uttered, hand on her hip.
“You screwed up majorly, Itadori and I were just sitting there.” Megumi pointed out.
“But ‘Gumi! We were witnesses, that makes us like - accessories to murder!” Yuuji scrambles.
Your heart skipped hearing Yuuji call your son ‘Gumi’, something he only let you and Satoru and Tsumiki call him beforehand, you also don’t miss the blush on his pale cheeks - reinforcing your idea that the feelings these two had for each other were not simply platonic.
Wait -
Did Yuuji say murder?!
“Okay, who’s dead? Where’s the body? Have any of you touched anything at the scene? Megumi I need you to -” you immediately went into practical mode and all of those true crime documentaries and podcasts come flooding back.
“Jesus, mom, no - not actual murder. Yuuji is just exaggerating.” Megumi says, eyes rolling.
“I really fuck with the ‘act now, questions later’ vibe though, Y/N. Queen behaviour.” Nobara says, throwing a peace sign with the unoccupied hand.
“We were just having coffee! Well, Megumi and Nobara were having coffee - I was having orange juice.” Yuuji adds.
“Guys. What’s broken or who’s injured?” You say, mom voice appearing.
“Um… so! I was drinking my coffee, and Ijichi left something on the table, because he’s dumb!” Nobara starts frantically explaining.
“No - ah ah, we love Ijichi, this school wouldn’t function without Ijichi. Don’t listen to your Sensei.” You butt in because there will be no Ijichi slander in your presence.
“Sorry, Y/N. Anyway! I was drinking my coffee! The coffee got knocked over and spilled! It spilled onto this!” She says, holding up the ruined white fabric in her arms, as both boys grimaced.
You gasp.
“Oh, fuck.” You whisper.
“That’s what I said!” Yuuji interjects.
“Shit.” You say again, examining the fabric in your hands
“That’s what I said.” Megumi groans.
“Motherfucker.” You toss your head back.
“That’s what I said!” Nobara nods.
“Okay. Let’s fix this. Eh… Megumi! Go to see Ijichi - ask him for washing detergent - he lives in the staff accommodation, so he can get us some. Nobara, I need you to boil the kettle and get some boiling water and cloths, okay? Yuuji, do you have vinegar in the kitchen? Because we need that.” You list off, desperately trying to remember what gets rid of coffee stains.
Megumi nods and leaves, Nobara rushes from the room and Yuuji salutes and darts to the kitchen.
This has to work.
Because the coffee flavoured thing in your hands is your husbands tailored white silk Yves Saint Laurent dress shirt, which he adores.
Which he also bought for ¥250,000.
After a moment the three kids come back with the required equipment and you combine all three and dunk the shirt into the mixture to soak for 15 minutes.
As the timer beeped on your phone, you took out the shirt and quickly realised it was absolutely no better.
You looked at the kids.
Then it all went to shit.
“Princess! Are you being a dork and organising books for fun again? Yaknow if you’re bored you can always come into my office and get on your kn-” The boisterous voice of your love echoes as the man himself rounds the corner and finds the kids and you tussling by the table. In a flash, you all turn to him - wide smiles.
He quirks his eyebrows.
“Princess, I saw you an hour ago and I’m pretty sure that a baby bump doesn’t grow that fast in an hour, and thanks to modern contraception and a 6 month old son I’m guessing you’re not pregnant.” He smirks, knowing you’re hiding something, probably covering for the kids.
Before you can react he’s swooped you over his shoulder as the kids all grab your ankles and you become a tug of war between two warring factions.
Satoru eventually wins by teleporting you both to the other side of the desk and sticking his tongue out at the teenagers and shoving his hands under your sweater and taking out the offending lump.
He studies the fabric for a minute, as four people hold their breath.
That’s when he burst out in hysterical laughter.
“Baby, were you covering for these delinquents?” He asks, hand on your cheek.
“Covering?! No! They were helping me! I spilled the coffee!” You say, stuttering.
“No you didn’t princess, you drink mochas, and this is just coffee.” He says, still laughing and you curse how well he knows you.
“I don’t drink coffee!” Itadori adds.
“You don’t need the fucking caffeine.” Megumi nods.
“Well don’t leave your silk designer shirts on the table -” Nobara starts and they’re all speaking at once.
Satoru just smiles and opens his phone, tapping it a few times and then he spins the phone around, showing it to the kids.
“I just bought 5 more of the same shirt. I don’t give a damn about the shirt, seeing you three running around trying to fix it was a years worth of entertainment for me. Truly - high quality comedy.” He laughs, tossing the shirt into the trash near him.
It’s moments like these the ‘Gojo heir’ in him shines through.
“Say sorry to your mom for worrying her.” He says, winking at them all.
“Sorry, mom.” Megumi shrugs.
“I’m sorry, mom!” Yuuji adds.
“Yeah, sorry mom.” Nobara sulks.
“I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!”
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😯😧😨😰
My Familiar’s Ghost part 43
Masterpost
(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1a. Mottled green background; Laszlo's hand pops into frame from the bottom, holding a corded phone receiver. He calls, 'Little wraith! Lilith on the telephone!' Ghost Guillermo flies in sharply from the opposite side, reaching out to snatch the phone with an irritated expression. He snaps, 'Don't call me that.' The wraith energy around him is still amorphous and in pieces, but has formed into a definite hood and cape. 1b. Split panel, close up on Guillermo on a green background on the left and Lilith on a purple background on the right. Guillermo holds the phone to his ear with a smile, anxious but eager, and says 'Lilith! Did you find out anything?' Lilith is dressed down in a grey tee shirt over a black lace camisole with a gold chain necklace and some silver rings, hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. Her hands are busy with something below screen, pink smartphone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She grins smugly and replies, 'You bet your cute little bum I did! And it's just as I told you - self inflicted!' 1c. Repeat. Guillermo frowns, brow furrowing in confusion, and says 'Huh? But I didn't-' Lilith interrupts him, still grinning and aiming a wink at the phone, 'You didn't, but your great great great grandpappy sure did.' She gestures with her right hand which holds a rubber spatula dripping with some kind of neon green slime. 1d. Repeat. Guillermo's frown deepens, a growing anxiety forming lines between his brows. He squeaks out, 'He-what?' Lilith raises a brow with a frown and explains, 'Beautiful work by a sister coven in the Netherlands - good for 10, 15 generations, I'd say. Now what was that wording she used...' She straightens her head, now holding her phone with her left hand and leans over to rummage offscreen with her right. 1e. The area outside the panels fades from white to a muted brown as we switch the scene back to Nandor at Panera. Close up of Nandor's hand pushing the head of the dead vampire in the 70s gear that was slumped near the door with two fingers, exposing his throat. He has been bitten messily once or twice, blood dried in streams dripping down to his collar. There is a stake sticking out of the center of his chest. Nandor notes aloud, 'Not drained, just...sipped. And killed. 1f. Zoom out as Nandor stands and turns to survey the rest of the room nervously, the dead vampire slumping over behind him. Nandor twiddles his fingers together and says to himself, 'Yeesh, Guillermo, always with the slaying, even now...'
2a. The area outside the panels continues to darken as it goes down. Close up of Lilith, purple background darkened as a shadow falls over her face. She is holding her phone to her ear with her left hand and holding up a yellow post-it note with her right, stuck to the tips of her fingers. She reads out, 'Should blood be supped / and end thy life / your body lay not still- / a slayer wakes to turn the knife...' 2b. Close up of Guillermo as Lilith reads out the last line: '...and succumb to slayer's will.' Guillermo's eyes widen with horror, mouth slack with shock. The background turns to mottled reds and oranges, his wraith cloak flaring out in terrified spikes around him, and the phone receiver falls from his frozen hand as it loses corporeality. 2c. Zoom out to a green background and wooden floor, the rotary phone placed on a small side table. The receiver clatters to the floor as Guillermo retreats to a glowing blue vapor and voops out of view. Lilith's voice continues from the phone, 'And then something about an unstoppable vampire-killing frenzy. She couldn't figure out how to rhyme that bit in English.' 2d. Back to Panera, the area outside the panels now nearly black. Close up of Nandor in the foreground facing the viewer, having walked further into the room. He is grimacing down at the next vampire corpse he is examining. The blood-smeared cabinets and open doorway are visible behind him. In the doorway, the silhouette of a short round figure has appeared silently, orange eyes glowing from the darkness, narrowed into slits. Lilith's voice continues from the phone from the previous panel: 'Hello? Memo? Hello?' /end ID
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I couldn't help wanting to write something ridiculous with spawn!Astarion learning to turn into a bat. And then I got thinking about how the tadpole nerfs spawn powers. AU, post-canon, Tav/Astarion. About 1.3k?
Lora's feeling out a new riff, trying to work out if there's enough of a solid foundation for it to become a song, when there's a thunk and tinkle from the kitchen.
Shit.
She sneaks through, knowing that Astarion's probably doing the same, if he's all right. If he's not… best to take in the situation.
A vase rolls past her through the doorway. There's a small flappy sound, like someone's just pulled a sheet of leather taut. What -? An undead, perhaps? She pokes her head round the corner.
There, sprawled on the kitchen countertop where she normally chops vegetables she'll be the only one eating, next to a fallen jar of herbs, is a bat. Big, albeit not as gigantic as some she's fought who turned out to be vampires in disguise; still, it's got an impressive wingspan, one of them hanging off the counter like a curtain. Or, she thinks, absurdly, the way Astarion likes to dramatically hang an arm off a fainting couch, while he's reading a book. He'll not be impressed by that comparison.
Her unexpected visitor is albino, and… fluffy. Really fluffy, chest like the world's smallest thick fur rug, or like it's got a little proud collar. Small, clawed feet are sticking inelegantly in the air, not quite spread-eagled (spread-batted?), as if it's going to try and jump back onto them. But who's heard of bats standing?
…Unless it's a vampire lord. But there aren't any of those after them - well, not anymore. And they're usually better at the whole bat thing. Less of crashing into Astarion's favourite vase.
How in the hells did it get in? It's not like she left a window open; both she and Astarion are a tad too paranoid for that.
It's not dead, at least: its chest is moving furiously. Makes sense. Bats are smaller, probably with a faster heartbeat. If it's in pain - well, she hopes it's not in pain.
She's got no idea how to escort it off the premises. It's not that she's got a problem with bats - more that she's certain neither she, nor the bat, signed up for this. An angry wild animal? She has visions of it hanging from her finger by its teeth. Though honestly, she had a similar vision with Astarion, and things turned out pretty well there. But they're only borrowing this place for a while - she called in a favour. That favour probably didn't include bat tenants.
Edging closer, she notes that it doesn't seem to be moving. Knocked itself out? Oh, that's not ideal. Though maybe she can sneak it out before it wakes up… No, from what she can see - one red eye - it's just staring at the ceiling. Almost glumly, if a bat can be glum.
And then it spots her, and… lifts its wings to hide its face. In embarrassment.
White fur. Red eyes. The way he looks when he's caught between trying to brazen it out or stalking off to hide his cringing.
“...Astarion?”
Its - his ears twitch, and he raises a wing, holds it there. The way he'll raise a hand in acknowledgement and Don't even say it.
She blinks, and whistles a few notes, hits a high C - there. Speak with animals. That should do it. “Are you hurt?” she tries; it’s been a while since she’s done this spell without a lute.
“Only my pride,” he mutters, mulish and with the slightest nasality - makes sense, between a flat snout and fangs. “I think your basil came off worse than I did.”
She stares. Definitely strange, hearing that familiar wry voice come out of a bat. “What happened?” He’s normally so pretty - the kind of pretty he endlessly preens about. The pinkness of his nose is oddly adorable against white fur, but she suspects he’s ended up as a vampire bat. Apparently, vampire bats look like they’ve crashed face-first into a wall. Which he most likely has, but she suspects that’s no explanation for the horseshoe-shaped nose and his little squinting eyes. It's sort of cute. If you're very, very drunk. Or if you're overly fond of a grumpy vampire.
“Nothing we need talk about,” he says hastily. He rubs a thumb over his face. “I’m sure I’ll work out how to change back in a moment.”
“You’re not stuck like this, are you?”
He casts a narrow look at her with those blood-red eyes - different, and yet so very familiar. “Darling, are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I were a rodent?”
“Astarion.”
He stretches a wing experimentally: pale, thin skin and white fingers. “I don’t… think so. There’s already a sort of - itch under my skin, like I just have to yawn hard enough and, pop. But first, I need to brood.”
“I thought only Cazador could turn into a bat.”
“Into a cloud of bats, my dear.” He gestures at himself with a folded wing, more stiffly than his usual - difficult, when your arm doesn’t bend the same way. “Do I look like a cloud?”
She can’t help her grin at that. “I don’t know. You are all white and fluffy.”
He sighs, loudly. When she reaches out a slow, careful hand, however, he doesn’t move - even in this form, he’d dodge. Or she’d get an annoyed warning nip for her trouble, she’s sure of it. Fangs are second nature to him. As is how to be gentle with them, by now.
She says, “I love your ears.” She strokes a fingertip carefully over them; they twitch underneath it. “Look at the size of them!”
“Ugh. If you’re about to make an elf joke, I have one word of advice for you: don’t.” It’s deeply surreal watching a bat roll its eyes.
“I wasn’t! Is your hearing better like this?”
“Much.” He makes an expression that’s probably meant to be a grimace, but on a slightly squashed bat-face, it’s not so different. “I can hear the tavern three doors away. Their bard isn’t nearly so good as you.”
She strokes between his ridiculous rabbity ears, just with a finger, lightly; big as he is for a bat, he’s so tiny. Even tinier than usual. She'd hate to hurt him. “Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Yes, yes, I know you’re weak to flattery.” But there’s warmth in his voice.
“Do you want to hop up? I feel like you won’t want to turn back into yourself on the counter.”
“Please. That test flight - flights, really - was exhausting. No-one warned me there would be so much flapping. I thought creatures of the night would be fonder of a smooth glide, but no.”
She holds out an arm - and then there’s a bat clinging to her woollen shirt with thumbs and little claws. Clinging being the operative word. He climbs up her a little uncertainly, holding tight while she stays as still as she can, until he arrives on her shoulder, flopping there with a dramatic sigh.
She heads through to the lounge, and beside her ear, a small voice says, “I’ve been able to do… more, since our wriggling little unwelcome passengers were removed. I don’t know if it’s that or simply not starving. Honestly, I thought the bat thing was a myth. For spawn, anyway - we get the rather inferior part of the ‘vampire powers’ arrangement. But the claws have come back, and the agility. I’ve never felt so strong. It’s… strange. And a little intoxicating.” She can’t quite raise a brow at him when he’s so close to her, but he clearly gets the idea, because he adds hastily, “As in, I’m rather happy. Not as in ‘I’m about to become a cackling vampire lord.’ We’ve... covered that one already. It’s more - is this what it’s meant to be like? Being a spawn? Not a starved slave?” His voice is soft, with a genuine, non-snarling curiosity to it. A little amazement. She feels him shuffle just a bit closer to her, wing curling a little around her back.
Sometimes he doesn’t like to be touched when he’s thinking about the bad old days, but this clearly isn’t one of those times. At that, she has to sit in an armchair, and reach up, offering a hand to her shoulder. He clambers onto it, with the kind of instant trust that makes her chest ache - though he does give her a puzzled look while he shuffles about to get comfortable and sits on her knuckles. He folds his wings neatly, primly, in a way that’s so him she’d laugh in any other circumstance. She sneaks over her other hand and strokes his pointy pale head, runs a soothing couple of fingers over his back. She feels sad for him, but also, Lathander, he’s so fluffy. She could happily do this for a while.
The flap of wings startles her. What - ?
Being hugged by a bat is more like having a very strange necklace. One that hooks its thumbs into the back of her shirt collar, accidentally tugging it wider, ears twitching against her neck in a way that’s almost ticklish, tiny heart fluttering against her collarbone. She holds him there with a hand, thumb stroking through his fur. He murmurs, “I just wished, and this time…”
The smallest cloud of mist blooms. She blinks, and the world is suddenly rather heavier. It could be the rogue sitting side-saddle in her lap, his arms around her neck, grinning at her. He blinks in a little surprise.
“...there I was. Hello, darling.” Leaning in, he brushes a swift, smiling kiss to her cheek.
She reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, the way she knows he likes even if it ruins his pomade. “You were very cute.”
“Of course I was. I was adorable.” He winces. “Aside from looking like I’d run face-first into a carriage.”
“You were cute!”
“Hm. Good for scouting tucked-away places that the owners don’t want us to be, however.” His happiness takes on a fiendish edge.
“You’re going to pick locks with your little thumbs?”
The idea seems to delight him rather than offend. “Once I learn how? Absolutely.” He swoons dramatically, leaning back over the chair arm. “Now, darling, I find I’ve utterly run out of energy.” He darts her a look from under his hand. “It must have been the transformation. I don’t know if I can even find it in me to stagger to bed.”
She raises a brow. “Really?”
“Really. I’m just… utterly drained. It’s a mystery.” He holds his arms out. “Would you mind?”
While she’s carrying him through to her room, she says, “I know what you’re doing.”
“Oh?” he asks smugly, arms still wound around her neck. “And what’s that?”
“You’re going to pull me in with you.”
Pouting, he says, “How dare you. I’ll have you know I’m an honourable man. Well. I'm a man.”
“You’re going to pull me in with you and make me cuddle you to sleep.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds disgustingly juvenile. True, but juvenile.”
“This was easier when you were less than a kilogram of fur.” Not that she minds him being a bit heavier. It’s a relief, compared to how bird-boned he sometimes felt under all the muscle in the early, hungry days.
“I can fix that.” There’s a tiny poof! and then… a self-satisfied bat fluttering awkwardly to sit on top of her head.
She reminds him, “Watch the hair while you’re surveying your kingdom.”
“I could get used to this.”
“I’m never getting used to this.”
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SAY DON'T GO.
✧.* "Why'd you have to make me want you? Why'd you have to give me nothin' back? Why'd you have to make me love you? I said, "I love you", you say nothin' back."
pairing. ellie williams x f!reader
summary. ellie confesses her feelings for her best friend. it doesn't go as hoped. based on say don't go by taylor swift.
warning. angst!! with plans for a happy ending depending on if you guys want a part 2.
w.c. 2400.
It's cold in Jackson.
You tug the sleeves of your sweater starchly over your fingertips, fighting to ignore the chill that whips at your cheeks as you cross your arms beneath your chest.
The Tipsy Bison looms ahead of you, an amber glow pouring from the windows and into the empty, snow-ridden street.
Rocking on the balls of your feet, you deliberate whether or not you should run back to your place and change. It's a bit of a walk, and the thin layer of snow piling at your feet makes it less than ideal, but it beats catching frostbite.
Who wears a skirt in December?
You're about to make a break for it when — before you can even register her presence — a slender pair of hands drapes a jacket across your shoulders.
"You look pretty," the owner of the hands says. "Nice skirt."
A familiar warmth spreads to your cheeks as Ellie steps into your line of sight. Unlike you, she's dressed for the weather in a casual grey hoodie and winter boots, her signature green parka now hanging from your shoulders.
Warm breath hits your face as Ellie leans forward and pulls the jacket tighter across your figure.
Her hair's pulled back into a low bun, and something twists in your chest as your eyes take in her freckled features, latching onto where they're dusted pink from the cold.
You tug a lip between your teeth, choosing to ignore the fuzzy feeling that's become intrinsically linked with Ellie's presence.
Cute, you think.
"It's Dina's," you say, eyebrows scrunching together. "I'm cold as shit, though. I feel stupid."
A wolf-whistle resounds from Ellie's lips.
"Well thank you, Dina," she sing-songs, her voice low. You grow hot under her gaze, belly swirling as those green eyes take you in. "It'll be warmer inside. Keep the jacket, though."
"Are you sure? I feel bad."
"Angel, don't," Ellie says conclusively, waving a hand. "It looks better on you than it does me anyway."
Her mouth quirks to the side, a smirk playing at her lips as she tucks loose hair behind your ear.
You open your mouth to protest, but she's already reaching for your hand and dragging you inside.
In the midst of an apocalypse, the Tipsy Bison is alive and well.
It thrums with life, the citizens of Jackson all gathering in what Maria has called "a celebration of years of peaceful occupation".
Or, as Jesse liked to call it, a "Hey, we're still not dead!" party.
"You made it!" Dina exclaims, eyes bright as you join her and Jesse at the bar. Jesse greets the both of you with a simple salute as Dina moves to hug Ellie first, then you, firm hands settling on your cloaked shoulders. "And you look amazing."
She eyes the skirt, and you feel a little self-conscious as the group's attention falls on your outfit. "Right, Ellie?"
Her tone is conspiratorially light as she looks pointedly at the auburn-haired girl, something unspoken transpiring between the two of them. Ellie looks away, scratches at her neck.
You stare at the floor, hoping that if you look hard enough it'll swallow you whole and save you the embarrassment of whatever they're currently thinking about you.
Jesse raises his brows at his girlfriend, who gives him the kind of look that says "What?" and rolls her eyes, turning to face you instead.
"So," Dina says, leaning against the bar. "What's new? How's everything going with the garden?"
You almost sigh, grateful for the chance to speak about something other than your choice of attire. You launch into a discussion about Jackson's community garden, a project you'd been overseeing for the last month or so.
Sometime between discussing the tomato shortage and unearthing the details of the temporary caterpillar problem, Ellie pulls you against her, pressing your back to her front.
She casually rests her hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing hypnotic circles against your hips.
It's around this time that you forget how to talk.
You know, consciously, that you're still speaking. And you know those words must be making some kind of sense, because Dina is nodding and Jesse's making quips, but none of it registers over the roar of blood rushing to your ears.
There's this other thing, too. The thing you shove down as you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to dull an ache you don't fully understand. Not yet, anyway.
"So, yeah," you cough, bringing the story to halt. "That's about it."
After another couple minutes of mindless chatter, Dina and Jesse take to the dancefloor, and you're left alone with Ellie.
Her voice is a low murmur against the shell of your ear.
"You okay, angel?"
Angel.
"Uh, yeah," you say, pulling out of her grip. "Just hot, I think. Is it just me or is it, like, really warm in here?"
It's almost comical how quickly you strip out of her jacket, flinging it across one of the stools. You turn to face her, hoping the heat in your cheeks doesn't flare as much as it burns.
The corner of Ellie's lip quirks downward at the loss of contact, eyebrows cinching together. She reaches to bring you back to her, but you're already moving backward.
"I think I'm gonna go dance," you say before she can get a word in edgewise.
You make for the dancefloor, desperate to quieten the roaring in your ears.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Older music blares from the overhead speakers, a song you recognise pouring into the venue. You let the beat carry your movements and join the pulse of bodies moving in time with the music.
"Mind if I join you?" a voice asks from behind you.
You turn, immediately faced with a boy about your age.
"Max!" you exclaim, drawing him into a hug. You recognise him instantly as the person you'd been partnered with for stables duties last spring, right before he'd switched assignments. "Hey, how are you?"
Max flashes you a toothy grin. "I'm great. Not as great as you, though. You look... wow."
He raises a hand, gesturing to your outfit.
"It's just a skirt," you say dismissively. "And this is probably the last time I'll wear one of these, anyway. Too much attention."
"I'm sure."
You blink at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean that you've got to know how beautiful you are. It makes sense you're getting a little attention."
"That's sweet but..." you laugh, awkwardly. "I don't really get much attention from anyone, really. I was referring to my friends."
Max quirks a brow. "Well you've got to know why that is."
You tilt your head, not quite getting it.
"Come on," Max says, shaking his head. "It's obvious."
His gaze shifts, and you follow his line of sight to where Ellie is standing at the bar. She's staring at you, hard. Something unreadable flickers in her eyes, her jaw set as she looks straight ahead.
You look away quickly.
Shaking your head, you ask: "Ellie? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Wow. Don't tell me you're that oblivious."
"Oblivious to..."
"Everyone thinks the two of you are together."
You pause. "What? No, we're just friends."
Max laughs, almost meanly. "You sure about that? The girl's attached to you like an extra limb."
"I'm her best friend," you reiterate.
Max didn't get it — Ellie had lost a lot of people she really cared about.
She didn't like to talk about life pre-Jackson that much, but it made sense to you that she'd be a little clingy after going through something like that.
"Sorry, sorry," Max says, raising his hands in defense. "I don't mean to pry. I'm just saying that's probably why everyone steers clear. I mean, she can be pretty scary."
"Ellie's harmless," you say, your words unconvincing to your own ears.
You recall her eyes burning holes into the two of you.
She can be pretty scary.
"So, a couple of us are heading out," Max says, changing the subject. "A buddy of mine found an abandoned park a little way's out. Might shoot up some infected and hang out for a while. Interested?"
You nod. It sounds exactly like the type of thing you're very much not interested in, to be honest.
You glance over to the bar, catching Ellie's intense gaze, and feel a pit of anxiety form in your stomach.
"Yeah," you say, slowly. "I'll be there. Just let me say bye to my friends."
He grins as you excuse yourself and walk over to where Ellie is standing.
"I'm heading out," you say as you approach her. "Max invited me to go with him and some others outside of town for a little while."
Ellie's brows scrunch together. "What?"
"Yeah, we're thinking of, uhm, shooting up some infected and hanging out at the park—"
"Not happening."
You frown. "Excuse me?"
Ellie rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Not fucking happening."
"I don't remember asking your permission?"
"Are you stupid?" She asks, tone harsh. "You think Maria would sign off on something like this?"
"Since when do you care about what Maria signs off on? She's distracted with the party, anyway."
"I care that you're putting yourself in danger," Ellie huffs. "You call me to come take care of it when there's a spider in your room. You can't handle infected."
"I'll be with Max and his friends," you say firmly. "They're all on patrol."
Ellie's laugh is forced. "Yeah, because Max and his dickhead friends are going to protect you. First sign of a bloater and they're running to save their own asses."
You open your mouth to protest, but she's quick to cut you off.
"I'm coming with you," she says. "Let me get my gun."
Max's voice rings in your ears.
The girl's attached to you like an extra limb.
"I don't think that's a good idea," you say, quietly.
Something flashes in Ellie's eyes. Confusion, at first. Then hurt.
You suddenly feel like an asshole.
You want to reach out and smooth the crease in her brows, tell her you're sorry — even if you aren't quite sure what for.
Ellie's gaze flickers between you and the crowd. "So this is about him, then."
Him. She says it like it burns.
You don't know what game you're playing anymore. You don't care about Max, you never have.
But when you're around Ellie, everything's too much — too hot, too fucking intense, too saturated — and you don't know what it means, or how to turn it off.
I'm her best friend.
It makes you feel like shit.
So, you nod.
"Yeah," you say, against your better judgement. "I was thinking it'd be nice to get to know him a little. One on one."
"Right."
Silence.
"Is that okay?"
Music bleats from the speakers. For a second, Ellie doesn't say anything.
And then: "Don't."
You look up, dragging your eyes away from their fixation on the hardwood floor.
"Don't go. Please."
She says the words like they're hard to get out. Painful, even.
"Ellie," you say, softly. "I'll be safe."
"It's not that. Not just that, I mean."
You stare at her, but she isn't looking back, too busy picking dutifully at the peeling skin on her fingers.
You resist the urge to reach forward and close your hands around her own to get her to stop.
"Then what is it?"
Ellie's inhale is shaky. "I didn't want to... at least not like this... fuck, this is awkward."
The song on the speakers changes to an 80s number you recognise from Joel's CD collection. It draws Ellie from her thoughts, makes her huff with frustration.
You take her hand, dragging her outside and onto the porch. It's quieter here, but you'd forgotten how cold it was, wincing as it immediately bites at your cheeks.
You cross your arms over your chest and look at Ellie, who lets out a strained: "Look... angel, you've gotta know how I feel about you."
Not what you'd been expecting.
"How you... feel about me?"
"Yeah." Ellie walks over to the wooden banister, her green eyes reluctantly meeting yours as you come up beside her.
"I don't get it," you say, puzzled.
Ellie's voice is barely above a whisper. "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"
She braces herself, rests both hands against the banister. Another shaky breath.
"I... fucking hell." She runs a hand across her face. "I love you."
"I love you too? What does that—"
"No," Ellie says, cutting you off. Her hand hangs in the air between you. "Not just... not just as a friend."
Oh. Oh.
Her confession settles between you like fallen snow. Heavy, thick.
Cold.
Ellie leans forward, green eyes searching yours. "Wait, you seriously didn't know?"
I love you. Not just as a friend.
You shake your head. None of this makes any sense.
"You never...there was no indication—"
"No indication? Angel, I gave you my jacket."
"Okay, but that doesn't necessarily mean—"
"Whenever you come over, I let you sleep in my bed—"
"I thought you were just cold—"
"I call you angel, for fuck's sake—"
"I thought you called everyone angel."
Ellie looks at you, incredulous. "Have you ever heard me call Dina 'angel'?"
"No, but—"
"What about Jesse? Have you ever seen me cuddling Jesse?"
"We're best friends!" you exclaim. "That's what best friends do!"
It's like a tap has been opened, the words flooding out of you in a rush. This was all too much, too soon.
Ellie didn't love you.
She couldn't.
Silence.
"Is that... what we are to you?" Ellie asks, the crack in her voice betraying her.
Your words are soft, tentative.
"I don't know how to be anything else."
At that moment, the doors to the Tipsy Bison swing open. Max walks out of the bar, his friends flanking him from both sides. He sidles up to you, swings a hefty arm across your shoulders.
"You ready to go?" He asks, a wide smile plastered across his red face. The smell of nicotine washes over you as he talks.
I love you. Not just as a friend.
You nod, and Ellie's face falls.
"Great!" Max exclaims. "See you around, Ellie."
And then he leads you by the shoulders, pulling you away from the one real thing you've ever known, a crestfallen Ellie watching from the porch.
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Kinktober Day 7 (Blood Kink)
Character: Choso x Reader
Reader: Fem Reader!
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, unprotected sex, harsh language, violence, mentions of dead bodies, blood, pet names, mentions of them being in Shibuya
Blood Kink: Being attracted to blood and or enjoying the sight of it.
Wc: 3,271
A/n: I love this man with my entire heart and soul. He is househusband material I do not care. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! One more to go and I will officially be caught up! I tried my best to get all the warnings put above! I apologize if I have missed any!
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Choso was what you liked to call the perfect boyfriend. He was always so loving and thoughtful, praising you with gifts and words no matter how small. Honestly, you wouldn't want him any other way. There was, however, one small problem in your relationship, at least for you. Choso was so vanilla and gentle when it came to having sex. At first, nothing was wrong with it as you loved how careful and considerate he was with you, making sure he was pleasing your body instead of just his like many other guys you had been dating. Sometime down the line, you found yourself wanting more from Choso. You wanted him to be rough with you, go absolutely feral, and use your body for his desires at least once; after that, you wouldn't mind returning to the usual sex. Unfortunately, you never knew how to bring it up to the man as he was always quick to think it was his fault and he wasn't fulfilling his role correctly.
You let out a deep sigh, tossing someone's lifeless body out of your way as you looked around the bloody massacre. "Geez, and I just had these cleaned." You sighed in annoyance as you examined your blood-stained clothes. You weren't one for murder or violence, but your boyfriend had decided to team up with a few powerful curses, so you had no choice but to comply with his wishes. "Honestly, I didn't expect for them to separate us…I bet Choso is so worried." You sighed, scratching your head as you walked over the bodies, a slight skip in your step. The thought of your boyfriend caused your cheeks to turn pink as you let out a happy squeal, cupping both sides of your face, hearts practically flying out from your lovesick aura. "AAAAH!!! I JUST WANNA SEE MY CUTE BOYFRIEND!" You cried, absolutely smitten with him. You let out a slight hum as you started skipping over the bodies as you searched for your lover.
"I'm coming my blood lotus~ Just wait for me!"
__________
Choso paced back and forth, his leg twitching up and down nervously as he nibbled on one of his nails. It had been around two hours since he had been separated from you, driving him crazy. Jogo scoffed as he watched Choso's ridiculous antics. "Will you cut it out?! Honestly, it's making me sick how whipped you are for such a weak curse." He grumbled, crossing his arms. His pacing stops as he processes his colleagues' words. 'Weak…? WEAK?!?!' Your boyfriend clenched his fists as he stormed over to Jugo, roughly grabbing him by the front of his collar, their faces inches apart. "What the hell did you just say about her? I'd watch my tone if I were you." Your boyfriend growled, feeling his blood boil.
There were two things Choso hated more than anything in this god-awful world: anyone hurting or talking trash about his brothers and beautiful girlfriend. Jogo felt himself growing angry as his head started to throb. "I said she's nothing but a weak curse!" He fumed, locking eyes with Choso, who felt his anger rise as he raised a fist, ready to end the curse in front of him, that is, until he heard the familiar cheery voice. "Ah! I found you, Choso baby!" His eyes quickly dart toward your voice, seeing your figure happily running towards him. Releasing Jogo, having forgotten about him like a wet rag as he ran towards you, the worry he felt fading when his eyes took in your joyful expression. However, as he got closer, he noticed all the blood that covered his clothes and skin, causing his worry to come back ten times as he picked up the pace.
Once he reached you, he quickly wrapped you in his arms, his hands holding you close as he carefully inspected your body, ensuring the blood wasn't coming from you. You just giggled, finding your boyfriend's response absolutely adorable as you wrapped your arms around his waist, face nuzzling into his chest as you inhaled his scent. "My bleeding heart, oh, how I missed you." He exhaled, hiding his face deep into the crook of your neck, his anxiety finally subsiding when he realized the blood wasn't yours and that you were perfectly safe. You hummed, rubbing your hands up and down his back, soothing his nerves. "I was only gone for two hours, my bloody Lotus~" You sang your voice so carefree as it rang through his ears like a melody. His grip tightened at your words as he kissed your neck delicately.
"Two hours too long." He confessed as he pulled away from you. You stood before him with a bright smile as he took your entire form, finally getting a good look at his sweet girlfriend. Boy, was that a mistake. Choso felt his body heat up, face going red with embarrassment as his eyes bore into you. You were always so beautiful and cute in his eyes, but this time? This time, you looked so sexy, covered in the blood of those who had dared attack you. "Hm? Choso baby?" You called, waving a hand in front of his face curiously when you noticed he hadn't said anything in over a minute. "You, okay? My blood Lotus?" Your voice becomes concerned as you carefully cup his cheek with one of your bloody hands. He flinches at the sudden touch, having been so deep in thought as his mind starts turning your sweet body into something filthy. You frown at this shyly, pulling your hand away. "I'm sorry…seeing me covered in blood must disgust you, huh? I guess I should've found some clothes to change into," you admit, a voice laced with sadness as you look away from your boyfriend.
Choso's heart dropped at your words, along with the look on your face, as he quickly grabbed your wrist, pressing the palm of your hand back onto his cheek, rubbing it up and down as he melted into your touch, a shaky breath leaving his lips. "Not at all, my bleeding heart…you look as divine as usual." He whined, absolutely smitten with you. "It's just this time…." He trails off, glancing behind him as if finally remembering his colleagues' presence. He frowned, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he turned to the other curses. "Since Y/n has returned to me, I will take her to get new clothes. You should be fine without me, right?" He asked, his tone utterly different from what he used with you. Jogo looked ready to protest; however, he was stopped by Mahito, who just smiled at the two of you, waving a hand.
"That's fine~ Don't be too long though!" He laughed, ignoring Jogo's protests. Choso nods before interlacing his fingers with yours as he pulls you away from prying eyes. The two of you walk for an hour, passing multiple clothing stores as he takes you to his destination. "Where are we going?" You finally ask as you try to keep up with his long strides. Choso looks back at you, smiling sweetly as he notices your failed attempt to keep up with him. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, humans passing by, unable to see the bloodied girl in front of them. He carefully places his hand against your cheek and pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. This one is more aggressive than any others he's ever given you, and he's given a lot.
Choso whines into the kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, desperately wanting you to open your mouth. You do as told, a small giggle leaving your lips as you allow your boyfriend's wet muscle to invade your mouth. Choso feels his knees grow weak as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as he grinds against your front like a needy puppy. You gasp in shock, allowing his tongue to slide deeper down your throat. After a moment, he pulls away the saliva connecting your lips. His hips don't seem to stop, though, as he's practically picking you off the ground to press his bulge against your hidden pussy.
"C-Choso! What's gotten into you?" You pant, trying to catch your breath as you cling to his clothes. He looks down at you, racing red as pathetic pants and whines fall from his lips. "I-I'm sorry, my love…but seeing you covered in blood like this… you're so fucking sexy." He confessed while dipping into the crook of your neck, aggressively sucking on the spot he knew would get you going. You moan, hips bucking up into his, causing a smile on his lips as he continues sucking on the tender skin. "C-Choso not here! All these humans…" You whined, trying to push him away. This time, he could care less about the people around you or your cries of embarrassment. He was too turned on to think appropriately as he started tugging at your clothes.
"Choso!" You yelled, giving his head a light smack, causing him to wince as he pulled away from you with a pout. You stood there looking an absolute mess, making his eyes want to roll into the back of his head. "Fine… I'm sorry, my bleeding heart…" He breathed, leaving kisses all over your face. "I'll find a quiet spot, so please don't be mad at me." He begged, not wanting you to stop as he felt so hot and bothered that he felt like crying. You sigh briefly before nodding, allowing him to quickly drag you into the nearest alley. "They can't see us anyways…" He muttered, attacking your lips again in a feverish kiss, his hands ravishing your body as he took in all the red staining your skin. You whined, your breathing becoming heavy just from his light touch and kisses alone.
'S-so?! You never know when a sorcerer or a human with cursed energy will be nearby!" You scolded, earning a slight whine and an apology as he pulled away from you an absolute mess. "My bleeding heart… it's too much…I want to do it." He growled, sliding down to his knees as he pulled at your shorts, his eyes hungry for your sweet pussy. You looked down at his eyes, lidded over with lust as you gave a soft smile, gently rubbing his head. "Do with me what you wish, Choso~" You sang so sweetly he wanted to cum on the spot. Without a second thought, Choso tore your shorts and panties down, dropping them at your ankles as he stuffed his mouth full of your sweet slick deep moan left his lips as he lapped at your folds, his tongue twirling around your clit. You let out a few cries, your head pressed back against the brick wall, your back arching as you gripped your hair with one hand. "F-fuck, baby! So, fucking good~" You cried, loving this new side of your boyfriend.
Choso hummed at the praise, his eyes not leaving your bloodied appearance as he gripped your hips, his tongue poking in and out of your hole, causing your legs to shake as you squeezed his head between your thighs. "Y/n~ My sweet baby~" He whines, his nails dragging down your thighs, drawing tiny beads of blood, causing you to flinch hissing from the slight sting. "W-what are you?" You ask, not understanding his goal. Choso smiled, pulling away from you as he started lapping up one of your thighs, the other smearing the blood over your precious skin. "So pretty…so sexy." He whispered; eyes clouded with desire as he looked up at you. "Does it turn you on my bleeding heart?" He questions, slowly rising so he could once again hover over you, his fingers sliding against your dripping folds.
"Cause I am… I'm so turned on by your bloody appearance that I'm ashamed." He admits going to bite at your lip again, this time biting it harder. He presses his forehead to yours as he slowly inserts a finger, watching your face contort from pleasure and pain. "Are you disgusted with me, my love? Does me wanting to fuck your blood-stained body turn you away from me?" He starts asking all these questions while his finger plunges deep inside you, curling into that one spot that made your knees give out. Choso catches you, his finger still abusing your pussy as he pushes another inside. "Please answer me, Y/n." He begs, not wanting his precious treasure to find him revolting due to this newfound kink of his.
You're silent for a moment, your breath echoing in the darkly light alley as you try to process all of his words. The excitement you feel from finally having Choso use your body for his desires causes your head to spin. "Y-you could never disgust me, Choso." You finally manage to get out as you weakly look up at him, a fucked-out smile on your face, eyes half open from pleasure. You go and bite your lip, feeling your teeth pierce the skin as you press a deep kiss to his lips. Choso is taken back for a moment before the taste of your blood slips into his mouth, causing his eyes to roll back as his body aggressively shakes. You pull away, shocked, as you feel his body lean against yours while he tries to regain his breath.
"Choso, did you just…cum?" You breathed, surprised eyes meeting his lidded ones as he looked at you, lust still written all over his features. "It's okay," He starts his thumb smearing the blood across your face as he slips his fingers out. "I'm still so hard," he admits as he guides your hand down into his clothes, allowing you to feel how sticky it is down there, causing your legs to press together as you feel your slick leak down your legs. "Can I fuck you Y/n? I want to put it in so fucking bad." He whines, bucking his hips into your hand when he feels you start jerking him off. You hummed, eyes locked on where your hand disappeared into his clothes, finding this situation such a turn-on as you lick your lips. "Mhm…fuck me so good, Choso baby~ Use me till your heart's content~" You purred into his ear.
Choso's face lights up with embarrassment as tears prick his eyes. "Thank you, my bleeding heart!" He cries, his hands lifting you from the ground, catching you by surprise as you wrap your legs around him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He cried repeatedly as he shoved his aching cock inside you, his pace aggressive and fast. It hurt at first, but you swallowed the pain, your heart filled with too much joy as you watched the man of your obsession pathetically rail into you, his lust taking control. 'All this for some pathetic people's blood.' You thought happily, stroking the back of his head, causing him to whimper as he placed kisses all over your exposed skin.
"Mm~ Right there, baby! Feels so fucking good~" You cried, feeling the tip of his cock hitting that bundle of nerves that always drove you over the edge. "Fuuuuuuck! Hit it again, baby! Use me so good!" You cry tears of pleasure as you lift his face to yours. Choso had drool running down his chin as he quickly captured your lips in his, his tongue aggressively lapping at the spot you had bit earlier; the taste of iron was still strong as Choso felt his cock twitch. "Mm~ my bleeding heart, your blood taste so fucking sweet…I can't get enough." He whined, his thrusts growing sloppy. You just smile, giggling as you go and leave Hickey's down his neck, wanting to let those who could see him know that he was claimed for. Choso loved when you got possessive; it made him feel like he wasn't alone in his love for you.
"So pretty…so fucking sexy just for me." He grunts, his hips slamming into yours. Loud moans to leave your lips as you gripped his shoulders for support. "Are you gonna cum My Blood Lotus? Cum deep inside me, okay? I wanna feel you deep in my pussy, baby~" You purred, your tongue sticking out in the sluttiest way he's ever seen. Choso looks at you in awe, completely smitten by the curse in front of him as he feels his hips pound up into you, his seed releasing deep into your walls. You tossed your head back, hands gripping his hair as you let out the most beautiful moan he had ever heard. Choso whines, his thrusts picking back up as he starts to go for round two, already not giving you a chance to recover from your orgasm. "W-wait Choso! I just came, so I'm…ah~ really sensitive!" You cried, arms wrapping around his neck for support. Choso just grunts into your ear, the smell of blood filling his senses as he feels himself going feral.
"Sorry… it's too good…too fucking good!" He cried, his hips shaking from his overstimulation, having come twice in only a few minutes. "I'll carry you back, okay baby~ So just let me fuck you until I'm all out~ red is so fucking pretty on you…fuck Y/n, so beautiful…my beautiful bleeding heart, you make me insane!" He cried out praise with each thrust he took, your moans being the only sound he wanted to hear while licking at any blood he could, trying to clean up your skin from the filth that wanted to harm you. "No one's blood tastes like yours…so sweet and intoxicating just for me." He whimpers, feeling his tip press against your cervix, causing a whimper to leave your lips.
"Sorry baby…just a few more, I promise." He begged into your ear, nibbling at the lobe reassuringly. He didn't say anything as all you could do was look up at the night sky of Shibuya, your mind spinning with only Choso as you looked up at the stars. 'So pretty.' You thought, a fucked-out grin appearing as you pressed him close to your chest, allowing him to suck on the clothed mounds. Choso continued to fuck you five more times; after that, your mind and body were exhausted as he went and brought you new clothes making sure to change you himself as a way of apologizing for how rough he was with you. You smile at him as he gives you a piggyback ride back where you were supposed to meet up with the others. When you returned, Jogo quickly yelled at the two of you for taking so long.
Choso, not wanting you to deal with Jogo's annoying voice, placed you on a bench before walking over to the curse, both taunting the other. You watched him with a giant smile as you felt Mahito take a seat next to you, a mischievous smile on his face as Hanami made sure you were okay, having noticed how exhausted you looked. "Well~ Don't you look like you had a fun time~" He teased, raising a brow at you. You hummed, tapping Hanami's hand reassuringly as you looked from your boyfriend to the curse beside you. "So, tell me did you discover anything new about your love?" He pried, loving each detail you would give him about your relationship. You looked at him for a moment before a giant smile spread across your face, a deep hue dusting your cheeks as you looked at him with lovesick eyes, your hands holding your cheeks.
"My Blood Lotus really loves the color red~"
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"Top Marks" Chapter Two: Bitter - Michael Gavey x Preppy!Reader
Chapter One, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six (Final)
Summary: You and Michael have a disagreement in class that leaves him with a strange taste in his mouth.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader
Word Count: 1,540 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
Michael has always been someone who values logic. And both realistically and logically speaking, it doesn’t make sense for him to feel so bitter about how well you’re doing at Oxford. Out of the other students he’s met, you’re the only one anywhere near his level intellectually. You’re quick-witted and unafraid of a good debate, something he finds invigorating and completely different to the other girls he’s spoken to, the ones who just approached him when they needed help with their homework or the like.
But God, you drive him fucking insane. Why do you have to wear so much pink? It makes him want to scratch his eyes out. Why do you have to be so fucking friendly with everyone? Oliver’s the closest thing he’s got to a friend at this fucking school and you’ve even managed to buddy up with him. Laughing and chatting and smiling with him like the pair of you are old friends. Who the fuck do you think you are?
And don’t even get him started on your taste in music. He watches as you hum along to the song playing on your iPod, “Promiscuous” by Nelly Furtado. Michael wrinkles his nose, not wanting to admit that it really does sort of turn him on when you sing along.
“Chivalry is dead but you’re still kinda cute,” you croon, winking at him, grinning at the face he makes, like he’s just sucked on a lemon, “Jesus, Mikey, lighten up, won’t you?”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, taking a bite of his snack bar, rolling his eyes at the way you raise your hands in mock surrender, “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Pretty little bimbo like you must have all the Bullingdon boys chasing after you.”
You roll your eyes, “I believe we’ve already established I’m not a bimbo, Gavey, considering I’m getting higher marks than you in American Lit.”
Michael scowls, waving the crunchie bar in your face, seething at the cool and collected expression on your face and the smile forming on Oliver’s at watching the two of you interact, “No one cares about American Lit! Absolutely fucking no one! You’re not even a bloody lit major, you should be more worried about your psychology and physics grades!”
“Aw, that’s so sweet that you’re worried about me in those classes,” you coo mockingly, grinning at the way he bristles when you pat his hand, “Not to worry, Gavey, I’m handling myself just perfectly in those classes as well.”
He scoffs, turning away from you, crossing his arms to look out the window. It’s November and the leaves have long since started to change color. And, with the season’s change, your wardrobe has grown slightly more conservative. You wear a fuzzy pink angora sweater, one that he’s sure is likely to shed everywhere, a matching pink beret set atop your annoyingly perfect hair, and a pair of skinny jeans. He wonders to himself why people even wear those, considering how uncomfortable they look, considering his cargo pants to be a far more logical option.
It’s like you’re that little voice inside his head, chiming, “Logical but completely hideous.”
Even when you’re not talking to him directly, just chattering away to Oliver about the newest episode of “One Tree Hill”, you haunt him. He scowls, grabbing his bag and leaving the library, ignoring the two of you, feeling that same taste in his mouth.
That bitter taste.
Michael knows it shouldn’t bother him as much as it does when Felix Catton approaches you before your American Lit lecture, asking if you’d like to study for the upcoming exam. He knows it shouldn’t bother him when you nod, smiling up at him pleasantly in a way you’ve never smiled at Michael. In fairness, he’s never anywhere near as sweet to you as Felix is being right now. But he digresses.
He knows the two of you are rivals, that you have plenty of acquaintances other than him and Oliver, what with your stupid smile and your bubbly disposition. But part of him thought that, as the two top students in the class, it would’ve made sense for you to study together. Granted, you might have argued incessantly about whose literary interpretation was correct, but still. It would have made sense.
You? And Felix? Studying together? It makes no sense to him at all.
Michael frowns at Felix as he walks away from the two of you, a spring in his step after having typed your number into his cellphone, saying he would call you later that night to set up a time to study, “So, you shagging him?”
You turn to Michael, jaw dropping, “I beg your pardon?”
“Are. You. Shagging. Him?” Michael questions icily, a nasty smile curling on his lips.
“I most certainly am not, and you know what?” You glare at him, “Even if I was, I fail to see how it would be any of your business, Gavey.”
He shrugs, “I just guess my first impression of you was right. A bimbo who’s come to Oxford to find herself a rich husband and never have to work another day in her life.”
A scowl mars your otherwise lovely face, and Michael can’t help but think how gorgeous you are when you get angry.
“I’m nothing like that! You’re just… Ugh! You’re fucking infuriating!”
You turn your face away from his when the lecture begins, angrily scribbling away in your notebook, though the way the fuzzy top of your pen moves around makes it difficult for him to take your anger seriously.
Today’s topic of discussion is Ernest Hemingway’s famous novel “The Sun Also Rises”. Michael has come prepared with several points to bring up when the professor asks for opinions, having learned his lesson from that first day with “The Awakening”. Though he recalls your words about the seductive power of the sea from time to time and his thoughts begin to wander. He imagines you walking toward him, emerging from the water like some sort of Venus, arms extended toward him, your body bare-
Oh, fuck, the professor’s asked for opinions. His hand shoots up into the air before you can raise yours, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face when he’s called on first.
“I found Jake’s devotion to Brett to be romantic, though misplaced-”
“Romantic?” You cut him off with an incredulous look, “Hemingway? The man was an unapologetic misogynist who used Brett as less of a character and more of a cautionary tale about what happens when women are sexually emancipated. Jake’s devotion wasn’t really love, he was in love with a fictionalized version of her!”
“Oh, you just cry misogyny at everything,” he retorts, nostrils flaring, “Maybe if Brett had just accepted Jake then-”
“Why should she have to be willing to give up her sexual agency just because he’s in love with her? In what world is that fair?” The two of you continue bickering, an amused look on your professor’s face, “Hemingway was clearly dealing with the quintessential male problem of insecurity. He’s expressing his anxieties about strong, independent women in Brett. Though it’s not surprising, considering the man was a total loser and spent his life hanging around Picasso trying to shag his leftovers-”
“Oh for the love of God, what does that have to do with anything-”
“Oh, I’ll tell you what it has to do-”
“Fucking enlighten me!”
Your professor clears his throat and you realize that you and Michael are standing toe to toe, face to face, your noses almost touching as you argue, hands balled into fists. You clear your throat and take a seat, smoothing out your sweater and give the professor that saccharine sweet grin of yours which simultaneously draws Michael in and drives him insane.
“I apologize, Professor. I just feel very passionate when it comes to this book and Brett’s character.”
“Don’t apologize,” the professor replies cheerfully, “You and Michael are two of the most active students I’ve ever had in class. It’s a welcome reprieve from the blank, dead-eyed stares. Just try to keep it civil next time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
You shoot Michael a dirty look from the corner of your eye before going back to your notes, the sound of your pen scratching against the paper and your soft breathing almost obnoxiously loud in his head.
He realizes that, over the course of the argument, his jeans have started fitting just a bit tighter, and to his horror? He glances down and sees that he’s hard. He grabs his sweater from his backpack, placing it on his lap, and tries to think of the least sexy thing he can to get himself to calm down. He starts reciting the periodic table in his head, but sooner than later? His thoughts drift toward you in a lab coat and nothing else, pushing him down onto the table and-
Fucking hell.
Class finally ends and he watches as Felix walks over to talk to you again, the two of you blithering away like old friends. And as you walk away with him, not a glance thrown Michael’s way, he feels that same taste in his mouth.
That same fucking bitter taste.
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Can you write about Smoke x reader, where reader has a secret crush on Smoke who accidently finds out because someone else lets it slip?
I feel so silly when people ask me stuff, you want ME to write for you? Tehe okay my PPP (Pretty Pink Princess)
Having a SECRET crush on Smoke (≧ω≦)/
Context- your a recruited nurse for the Wu Shi (if you would like me to write about you being a fighter or anything specific just ask because i LIVE for requests)
When being recruited to help at the Wu Shi Academy, you weren’t expecting people besides those training at the Wu Shi to appear
But it seems people from the Lin Kuei like to test their might against those in training
Call it fate, but when a smoking hot young man is observing the recruits, you smile a little and feel fuzzy
You can’t keep this to yourself- you have to ask who he is
So when you’re patching up one of the newest rag-dolls, Jonny Cage, you mention him very casually
‘Did you see the guy with grey hair? Do you know why he’s here?’ He looks you up and down, quirking his eyebrow.
‘He’s smoking, isn’t he?’ You give him a thousand-mile stare, not sure how far this conversation is aloud to go- if you’re allowed to have it at all.
‘He’s cute.. is he becoming one of our recruits?’ you cross your toes, fingers, and legs- which you’d rather keep open but that doesn’t matter right now.
‘I could hook you up, we’re kinda tight’ you know who else is tight.. he wraps an arm around you, exaggerating a sigh as he does.
‘Really? What’s his name?’ Things are going good, too good and too fast, but good..
‘Tomas, he’s a gentle giant, a beefcake too’ you saw, his biceps were massive.
‘Can we keep this between us..? This is the least professional conversation I’ve had..ever’
‘Of course babydoll, my lips- are sealed’ no they are not, they are always moving, but what did you expect?
You go on with your days sitting close to Tomas and getting stared at by Johnny, who is not subtle
You think Tomas notices too, as he looks away with a pink face
You’re sitting at lunch with all the apprentices and smoke- who wanted to spend some time here..
You and Tomas are talking and joking around about the Lin Kuei having competition with how hard everyone is training; you’re definitely laughing a little too hard but he doesn’t mind- or maybe he just doesn’t notice.
‘You’re laughing a little too hard..’ Johnny giggles (tehe) and raises his eyebrows.
‘I don’t mind..’ Tomas says, what a savior.
Lunch ends and you almost go to your respective spots until Johnny and Tomas strike up a conversation.
‘Nice catch, how’d you know she liked you? Was it the laughing?’ Oh.My.Gods.
‘Sorry Johnny, could you repeat that?’ No..OH MY GODS
‘Oh..I thought you knew..’ your fight or flight kicks in, you could-
They’re both staring at you, hard.
‘Hey, it’s okay that you like me- really..’ you might spazz out right then and there, or cry.
‘I..okay..’ you fiddle with your uniform, then you see his shoes right infront of you..
‘Hey..’ you might scream and run into the forest naked- only to be found 2 weeks later dead of starvation and a mortified look on your face.
I NEED help on what to do next
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