#they're already so soft and so tender | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintfleur · 2 months

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Hi can u write prompt 18 and 14 🪷 and [comfort] 🌷 with lando? With lando being the one who comforts?? Thank u sm I love u and ur works 💗💗💗💗

౨ৎ sleep darling

﹕─┈ pairings ( Lando norris x female! reader )

°. — summary ( a morning with lando after a restless night )

°. — details ( g; fluff, a pinch of angst? w; none that I know of. wc; 1.5k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time + they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose + a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( Tysm for the request lovely & the kind words ! I love you too !!! I had so much fun writing this, it was an amazing request !!! I hope you like it, I tried fitting in the prompts together the best I could !!! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s, your thoughts are what keep me motivated to write !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist F1 masterlist

Restless sighs and tired groans leave your lips as you roll over onto your side, now facing your large window that gives you a perfect view of the sunrise. Your eyes dropped down to the sleepy body next to you, he was laying on his stomach with both of his arms under the soft white pillow, the duvet being pulled up to his shoulders, protecting him from the breeze coming through the cracked open window. He looked so peaceful as he slept, that made you happy.

You missed him, lately he's been busy with getting ready for the start of the new f1 season and even though some days he came home early, you were too busy studying to really spend any time with him. For the past week, the two of you really only spent time together in bed, and most of the time lando was sleeping while you laid wide awake. You barely slept and when you did you woke up in cold sweats from the nightmares that plagued your mind.

The lack of sleep and the intense studying didn't help your mood, but your sweet boyfriend didn't let your mood get to him, he understands. You felt guilty, he was the absolute sweetest and so understanding, sending you sweet texts throughout the day, getting you flowers and ordering you your favorite food; knowing that you most likely forgot to eat. And yet you couldn't even spare the time to spend more time with him.

You watched as he scrunched his nose in annoyance and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow as the sun shines on his face. You begin to feel restless as you continue to lay down, your mind not shutting off even though you've stayed up for the whole night. By the time you decided to stop studying, it was way past midnight and Lando was already asleep even though he tried to stay up for you.

You felt that guilt creep up and you let out a heavy sigh, you couldn't lay down anymore wasting time. You quietly sit up and move the blankets off your legs and move to get out of bed, but you pause when you hear a tired groan accompanied by your boyfriend's groggy voice “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I'll be right back, go back to sleep baby” you spoke softly so you wouldn't pull him too much out of his sleep as you looked back at him. One of his hands was out from under the pillow as if he was reaching out from you to stop you from leaving, and that's what he intended to do, he was just far to sleep to open his eyes. Lando hummed sleepily “Mmkay hurry back . . . wanna cuddle.”

You leaned down and placed a soft but quick kiss on his forehead, a sleepy smile forming on his lips at the touch of your lips. You quickly leave the bed, knowing that if you stared at him any longer you wouldn't want to leave the bed. You quietly close the bathroom door behind you before turning on the light. You take your time brushing and flossing your teeth and brushing your hair out of your face, you try not to look at yourself for too long in the mirror. You could see that you were exhausted, the past week not only taking a toll on your mental state, but also your physical.

You can imagine Lando becoming impatient with how long you were taking in the bathroom if he hasn't fallen asleep yet, so you quickly finish up in the bathroom and shut off the light as you leave. You looked at your bed and for a second you believed Lando had fallen back asleep from how still he was, but you're proven wrong when he grabs the duvet and pulls it back for you, wanting you to lay next to him. Cute.

You fight the urge of wanting to escape to the living room to study and climb into bed, sliding under the blanket and right next to your sleepy boyfriend. You lay on your side, your hands under your face as you look at a barely awake lando. Lando pulls the blanket up to your shoulders and blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his eyes taking in every inch of your beauty. He could see your exhaustion in your eyes and face, but he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever.

Lando frowns and tucked the blanket under your neck, his thumb softly caressing your chin “You haven't slept.”

You didn't bother trying to lie, one you were too exhausted trying to come up with a good excuse and you also know it was no use too anyway. Lando knew you better than anyone else, sometimes even better than you. You sigh and break your eye contact before whispering “I tried.”

“You should have woken me up, I don't like that you were up alone” Lando continues to frown as he looks at you, feeling guilty because he wasn't up to help you. The thought of you lying awake all night made his heart hurt, he wished you woke him up and he wished he wasn't so tired last night and stayed up. He didn't care if the two of you laid in silence all night in each other's arms, because you would have done it together.

“I wasn't alone, i had you right next to me” you whispered sweetly as you pulled your hand out from under your face and pushed back his messy hair out of his eyes. A grin spreads across Lando's face at your romantic words and a cute giggle leaves his lips as he quickly moves forward, your body moving to lay on your back as he rolls on top of you. He settled comfortably between your legs, cradling your head with a gentle touch, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your nose.

You giggle at the sudden change of position and scrunch your nose at the feeling of his soft lips on your nose, pecking it several times; he knew it made you ticklish. Your hands move up to hold his wrists as you look up into his beautiful eyes, your legs wrapping around his waist under the blanket. He holds your face softly, making sure you keep your eyes on him as he tries his best to make his voice sound stern “I’ll always be with you angel, but you need to rest. you've barely gotten any sleep all week.”

“I ⸺ “

“I'll help you study later; I promise. Just take a little nap with me . . . please” he quickly cut you off, his tone trailing off to a slight beg. He already knew what you were going to say, telling him how you desperately needed to study and that you couldn't waste any time. But he had full confidence in you, he knew you would do just fine in your exams, you were just psyching yourself out to an extreme.

Lando didn't break eye contact with you as he pulled out his secret weapon that always works on you, a small pout with his puppy dog eyes. You sigh as you look down at his lips, knowing what he was pulling on you and there was no way you could say no to those eyes, and you knew he wasn't going to stop until you agree “Hmm fine.”

Lando grins and kisses your nose one more time as he brings one of your hands down to pat your thigh, you unwrap your legs around his waist and sit up on your elbows as lando drops to your side, your body wanting to reach out for his warmth that you were already missing and craving. Lando lays on his back and opens his arms for you.

You scoot closer to lando and he pulls you into his arms and into a tight but comfortable hug, your head rests in the crook of his neck while you drape your leg over his midsection. Lando slips one of his hands under your shirt and starts rubbing your back, your eyes fluttering close at the soothing and comforting touch. Lando fights back a yawn and places a kiss on the top of your head before whispering, “I’ll be right here the whole time, i got you okay.”

You know what he meant, he wanted to let you know that you were safe in his arms, that you had nothing to fear, that he would protect you from your nightmares. Tears well in your eyes, because of the exhaustion or from the strong feeling of love you felt for him . . . you had a feeling it was the latter. You lean your head back, the movement catching lando’s attention and the two of you lock eyes as you spoke softly “I love you.”

Lando used his free hand that wasn't rubbing your back and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up more so he could lean down and take your lips into his for a slow but passionate kiss filled with love and reassurance. The kiss didn't last long but it took both of your breaths away. He slowly pulled away from your intoxicating lips and watched as you laid your head back on his chest, your body melting into his with tiredness. The sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. He whispered breathlessly as his hold on you tightens, his own eyes closing.

“I love you more, now sleep darling.”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( GAWD I HAVE SUCH A WEAKNESS FOR SWEET BF LANDO 😭 AND CONGRATS ON P3 LAN !!! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @ophcelia @toasttt11 )

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killuintense · 5 months

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leon and his lazy touches !

it's usually quite common to be in that position with Leon when you're both in bed. after a long day of work, both on his part and yours, you both end up lazily lying in bed not wanting to do much, just with your social battery completely discharged looking for silent company with each other with your bodies glued together providing warmth to each other.

this was more common than it seemed: him on his cell phone scrolling through the latest news, or memes with really bad jokes that made him giggle, and you watching silly relaxing videos on your cell phone. every once in a while one of you would leave the silence and show the other the cell phone. "oh my god, look at this video..." you'd say, or he'd put the phone in front of your face while laughing like a fool at some meme he got from the most neglected social network on the internet (facebook, from a group of older wives, all complaining about their husbands) but apparently that was the epitome of comedy for your boyfriend. and you sometimes made fun of him, or laughed more because of that complicity he had with you to show you anything and bother you, hiding in your neck while you made fun of his poor taste for humor. sometimes he would pout falsely and you would let him, ending up letting go of your cell phone and placing it on your chest to gently cuddle his hair until he fell asleep.

sometimes he was too immersed reading news on his cell phone, any shit about the current politics of the country, or about news from all over the world about the rulings of justice and those things that he was already so used to but that, beyond that, was what he was dedicated to and interested in. that's why he didn't notice the little tricks he had when his mind was wandering in another dimension. like he inevitably sought to be the big spoon, at all costs. he would hog your whole body with his body sticking his chest to your back as you cowered and followed without paying much attention to him. sometimes his free hand is on your butt, he loves to squeeze something while he's focused on something else, and sometimes your butt became his favorite stim toy. when that stops being enough, he reaches for your boobs.

you giggle, it's quite tender because it's not a sexual touch, at least not at that moment, but he does need to fondle them, knead them, gently scratch the moldable skin of your breasts and that relaxes you, you're not going to lie. it even makes you let out soft giggles when he puts down his cell phone and starts his light chats of what you did in the day... and his hand is still there. almost like marking territory with gentle squeezes that you let be, you know that was something he loved and relaxed him, and in your eyes, he deserved every little thing from you, just as you did from him. you couldn't deny it, especially when he squeezed your chest again and again under your shirt making you laugh while he kept chattering about his job. only then did he realize it and apologize, but he blatantly kept his hand. "it's just that they're soft..." he excused himself, kissing your hair and sinking into it enthusiastically.

your whole body was his temple of rest, he couldn't simply rest in bed if he didn't have you by his side. it was no use if he couldn't touch you, feel you, kiss you every time he wanted to. there was no need for them to talk, each one would be in his own little world for a while, but that habit of having your body next to him he would love for the rest of his life. because thanks to you, he can rest.

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

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lyneira · 1 year

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♡ when you try to flirt with them ♡

-> how the genshin men would react when you attempt to flirt with them

suggestive!

lyneira's 1.2k milestone event

MEGA SIMP

Thoma, Kaveh, Gorou, Itto, Venti

You'll have them sweating bullets, at the edge of their seat, heart racing, and blushing furiously as they endure your flirting and teasing. Despite that, they are absolutely LIVING for your flirting. They're not gonna admit it aloud (not yet at least) but they want ALL of the affection, love, and teasing you're giving them.

In this state, you can ask him for anything and he'd obey. Heck, ask for the world and he'll give it to you because this guy is ENRAPTURED by you. Bro is just so excited and eager about the way you're treating him

Like lowkey, if you were to tell him the numerous things you'd do to tease him, get close to him, and ask, "Would you like all that, hm?~", he's going to take a sharp inhale and breathe out a soft, "yes please" before he combusts right then and there

Embarrassed

Xiao, Scaramouche, Diluc

Will probably hit you with a tsundere-ish, "What are you talking about baka...?!" in response to any smooth line you tell them, or a "Quit with that foolishness" when you try to flirtatiously put your hand on theirs.

Yes, he's going to tell you to stop, but it won't be very convincing with the shakiness in his voice and the vibrant blush that he's desperately trying to hide on his face. He's just feeling a mix of emotions right now, y’know? You're getting them all hot and bothered but they wouldn't dare admit that they're succumbing to your tactics.

They're playing hard to get because truly, you've easily got a hold of their heart and in actuality, it was him who wanted to be the one to catch yours first.

Cuts to the chase

Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Cyno

Like the previous dudes, they're also gonna ask you what you were doing, but would be serious about it instead. These guys don't like beating around the bush and your flirting is going nowhere, so he's going to interrupt you and make you cut to the chase. He'll do so by kabedon-ing you, slamming one hand against the wall which makes you yelp in surprise.

"If you want something, why not ask me directly?", he leans down, towering over your frame and lifts your chin gently with a finger, "I won't bite...unless you want me to"

Amused

Ayato, Baizhu, Kaeya, Childe, Heizou

As you flirt with them, they'll simply have a smile on their face, both pleased and amused that you have the guts to do so. Trying to seduce the flirt, eh? They find it all terribly cute. Yet, they won't say or initiate much up until they've seen you slowly lose your drive to continue flirting (due to their lack of response to your attempts)

"Is that all you've got, y/n? Don't get me wrong, all of this pleases me, but...", he places his hands on your hips and brings them closer to his own as he leans in close to your ear and huskily whispers, "...let me show you how it's really done" ;)

Would be a sweetheart

Zhongli, Kazuha, Tighnari, Albedo

Will look at you with such tenderness in his gaze, happy about your sentiments toward him. They'd also blush lightly at certain antics that you'd pull, but they overall have a better tolerance to your flirting in comparison to the mega simps and those who get embarrassed. They're too wrapped up in the thought that you admired him and held these feelings for them to get so flustered.

When you compliment him seductively, he'll chuckle softly and smile, "I'm fortunate that you think of me that way", he'll then caress your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger slowly and lightly before bringing it up to your lips and replacing it with the pad of his thumb, "I feel the same for you", he'd finish saying while rubbing small circles on your lower lip. Y'all should kiss already

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futureman · 7 months

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a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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ineffable-baker-street · 7 months

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one of my FAVOURITE interactions is when aziraphale is possessing madam tracy, because when aziraphale sees crowley he says his name in the most loving, thankful and tender voice i have ever heard, communicating ten thousand words at once, the most important ones being i am so glad you're here.

and then crowley replies in a would-be casual voice "hey aziraphale! see you found a ride." but its so familiar, and immediately knowledgeable?? like crowley has just arrived but he already knows everything about the situation, and i love it so much because everyone else is still so behind, trying desperately to figure out what's going on. crowley and aziraphale though? they're there side by side knowing exactly what the other knows, no explanation or catching up required.

and then of course:

"nice dress, suits you"

"ahh! 🥰 this young man won't let us in"

"leave it to me"

the way they lean into each other??? the softness in aziraphale's voice as he says one little sentence knowing that he can count on crowley to fix it for him. and then crowley leaning and softly promising that he'll do this bit, don't even worry about it angel.

everything is just so reminiscent of an older couple who know each other inside and out, can always rely on each other, and can communicate their feelings and the situation with a half glance alone

#probably because thats exactly what they are #so deeply in love that their minds are entwined #they know each other back to front and dont need to go to the trouble of catching each other up because every step is taken together #and yet they still manage to be the dumbest creatures in the universe #good omens #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale #neil gaiman #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley my beloved #aziraphale is adorable

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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thinking about being eddie and steve's little cock hungry fucktoy <;3

content warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), mmf threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, nipple play, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation.

eddie's underneath you, thick cock rocking into your tight hole until you're gasping and writhing around on top of him. he has you pinned, large hands grabbing at squishy handfuls of your inner thighs to keep you spread wide for steve as he slides two fingers into your dripping cunt.

your hands grapple for purchase behind your head, settling in eddie's unruly curls and tugging hard — he punches his hips upwards, rocking your limp body until your head lolls back onto his shoulder, pushing his cock further into your ass and splitting you apart from the inside out. you cry out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

it feels so good that all coherency has evaporated, brain turning to a puddle of mush — steve grins at you, crooks his fingers upwards until you're rutting into his hand, rocking yourself down on them both in tandem. eddie grunts, slapping his hand down on your thigh, the loud crack of skin connecting with skin echoing in the electricity-filled room.

"think we can get another one out of her, harrington?" eddie's gravelly, thick voice bounces in your ears, his chest vibrating and sending the shockwaves through your back, leaving you shivering and begging silently, arching into him and baring your throat.

you're dumb. reduced to nothing more than a cock hungry whore, pliant under large, roaming hands. aching to be filled and used however they want you.

you'd lost count of how many times they'd made you cum already. in the back of your mind you think it's surpassed six, at least. your clit swollen and tender from fingers and tongues and teeth.

steve knew that, knew your cunt needed filled now, clit thrumming and all feeling lost in it a few orgasms ago. the rough pads of his fingertips brush over that fucking spot, pressing down on the spongey softness of it until you're keening.

he cackles. tan, mole flecked skin gleaming with sweat in the luminescence of the sun shining through the crack in the curtains — god, when did daylight break? how long had you been like this? your mind races, eyes crossing as eddie slowly, languidly fucks your ass, huffing small groans into your ear, smearing wet hot kisses on the junction where your neck meets your collarbone.

"i think we could easily get more than one from her, c'mon, look how desperate she is. feel how desperate she is." steve looks at eddie over your shoulder, cocking his head to the side, crooking his fingers at the same time — your tummy quivers, pussy fluttering around the long digits sinking in and out, making sloppy sounds that sound like heaven to both men.

"i— i'm not—" your eyebrows marry together as you struggle to form a sentence, sweat matting your hair to your forehead as you're rocked back and forth between the both of them. they're talking about you like you're not even there — using and abusing your holes and taking you for everything you've got. it makes you all the more dizzy, knowing they're thinking of you as nothing more than a dirty sex toy to pass around.

eddie chuckles, pouting enough that you can feel it when his lips purse against your heated skin, "aww, sweetheart. nothing going on in that tiny little brain of yours, huh?" he taunts, palms at the thick fat of your inner thigh again, this time soothing and squeezing it, setting your body alight.

steve's thumb swipes over your abused clit and you swear your vision whites out for a moment — it feels bruised, battered, enough so that it almost hurts when he brushes it. teeters on the right side of too much.

they worked together too well, steve and eddie. knowing glances between them had all four hands, all twenty fingers working together to work you up and push you over the edge in a record time. the deep, burning heat pooling in your belly and igniting just as quick.

the force of your orgasm shocks you — wracks through you until you're vibrating and clenching down around them both. eddie loses a slight bit of composure, whining high pitched as you hold his cock prisoner in the tight heat of your ass, pussy gushing even wetter than before and dripping down his balls.

"'atta girl, honey," steve coos, always more gentle than eddie and sure to give you the praise he knew you deserved, fingers slipping deftly from your cunt — only to be replaced just as quickly by the blunt, thick head of his cock.

you cry out, wiggling away but helpless to it. you're pinned in place at either side, two weighty, hard bodies holding you hostage. steve's cock slides into you with minimal resistance, pressing snug in the tight walls of your pussy.

you don't miss the way eddie groans, pushes up into your ass and moves his hands from your spread legs to grip at steve momentarily — "holy shit, can fucking feel you splitting her open, jesus christ."

they both give you a moment, if you could even call it that, before they're giving each other a knowing look over your shoulder. they look at each other like you're not even there, a silent agreement as they begin fucking you.

and it's not slow. at all. it's fast, brutal, teeters on violent as steve slides out and sinks back in, simultaneously pushing you down onto eddie and forcing him deeper into your ass until you're practically screaming.

it feels so fucking good you're sick with it. you're so full you feel like you could be torn open, but the way they work together with roaming hands and heavy bodies eases and relaxes you until you're nothing but a whimpering, begging cockwhore.

"who do you fuckin' belong to, baby, huh?" eddie's voice is unwavering, hands roaming from your waist to your tits that bounce with every harsh thrust, fingers gripping and twisting at your nipples until you're wailing and thrashing around on top of him, pushing both of their cocks out slightly, "use your words. now."

steve's hips piston into yours, emphasizing the brutal force by rolling his pelvis when he's buried as deep as he can go. you're so stupid and hazy you can't reply. all you can do is grab onto the meat of steve's bicep and cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks as every part of your body is set on fire with rough touches.

"answer him, don't be a brat," steve grunts, gripping under your thigh to bend your leg upwards to your chest, somehow opening you up so he can fuck into you deeper, harder.

"i'm—" you choke on your words, eyes rolling into your skull when steve's blunt cockhead catches on your spongey wall just right and drags, "fuck, fuck — m'yours, yours, all yours."

the clapping of their hips against yours increases tenfold as your pussy floods and gushes for them, eddie grunting and pulling at your nipples until you wail, steve biting and nipping at your collarbone.

you're reduced to nothing more than a set of holes for them to use as they please. you don't want it to end, never want it to stop.

eddie's tongue is sharp, a deep, rumbling laugh escaping him, "perfect, sweetheart. that's it, fuck. you gonna let us both cum in you, hmm? fill you up nice? you love it, being used like a cumrag, don't you?"

steve grunts from where he mouths at your flushed skin, hips stuttering, "shut your filthy fucking mouth, munson," he snarks, bitchy, "you're gonna make me cum too quick."

"don't worry, steve. i'm right there with you," eddie admits, "she's so fucking tight, goddamn you should feel it. if she ever lets you in her ass, that is."

you want to yell 'i'm right here!' — instead all that comes out is a desperate, whimpering moan, as your orgasm crescendos and washes over you in tidal waves. the stimulation hitting you like a freight train all at once and driving you over the edge.

you feel your cunt gushing, both holes clenching and unclenching sporadically as you cum, hard. the breath feels like it's knocked from your lungs, winding you. body going limp as you flop around like a ragdoll between both men.

"so good for us, sweet girl, oh fuck, fuck," steve groans, gripping onto your thigh tight enough to leave bruises as his cock kicks up and pulses inside of you, painting your cunt in his cum. you feel it paint your insides, hot and sticky, drooling from your aching, used walls.

"jesusfuckingchrist," you barely register eddie's voice as he pulls you down by the hips and practically impales you on his cock, rocking your hips back and forth on him and biting down on your shoulder until tears prick at your eyes. he grunts and moans into your salty skin, hands rough yet soothing on your sore hips as he unloads in you.

they apologise for being so rough later on, in their own ways. steve showers you down gently and kisses every last mark they left behind with soft lips. eddie tickles and rubs your back until you fall asleep, leaving you a pliant, contented mess of limbs.

#eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #my fanfic #mine #x reader

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wp-blaze · 3 days

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The Perfect Gifts for Travel Lovers: Thoughtful and Practical Recommendations

Travel enthusiasts crave new experiences and adventure. Enhance their journeys with practical gifts like a power bank, travel journal, packing cubes, and more. Happy gifting!

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bloodbruise · 30 days

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@jegulus-microfic | april 26: aimless | 1,276 words | trans! regulus

james does regulus' tape binding aftercare <3

James lingers in the doorway, quietly observing Regulus in their softly lit bathroom.

He's perched on the ledge of the bathtub, seemingly lost in thought, his head bowed and fingers idle and aimless where they trace the rim of it. He's shirtless, clad in only boxers and socks. His bare thighs press against the cool porcelain, causing goosebumps to rise there. Soft, late evening light leaks from the window, casting gentle shadows against his frame.

Outside, the rhythmic passing of cars punctuates the stillness, their headlights casting golden beams that dance across the wet asphalt. The nearby stoplight's red glow mingles with them, creating a surreal mix of colors on the shimmering pavement.

There's a soft rustle of movement as James enters the room behind Regulus, moving to the sink. He sifts through the contents of their vanity, hands passing over their shared face wash and the cup holding their toothbrushes to retrieve the items needed for Regulus' tape aftercare. Deft hands gather oil, washcloths, cotton swabs, and salve before placing them on the bathtub ledge. He approaches Regulus with a tenderness reserved only for moments like these, for him.

"Ready, love?" James' voice breaks the silence with a mellow murmur. He settles his weight behind him.

Regulus turns his head, giving a small nod against his own shoulder. "Yeah," he says, voice crackling from disuse.

James leans in to press a kiss between Regulus' shoulder blades. He lingers there for a moment. This close, he can see the faint dusting of freckles that mark his back. They're spattered across the skin like spray from a wave on sand. Speckles in shades of russet, sepia, and chocolate dance across his pale skin, shifting as Regulus shivers lightly. As James' lips leave his back, the muscles beneath those pretty dots tremble.

James reaches for the oil, uncaps it, and warms it between his hands. He presses both his palms to Regulus, carefully smoothing the oil over the edges of the tape. His touch follows the span of the tape from Regulus' back, under his arms, to the front of his chest. His movements are slow and practiced, designed as much to reassure as to treat. The oil glistens slightly on Regulus' skin, catching the dim light as it begins to soften the adhesive.

As they wait for the tape to loosen, a comfortable silence settles over them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city and their own quiet breathing. James doesn't stop his ministrations; his fingers continue to trace gentle paths along Regulus' shoulders, the back of his neck, following the delicate contours of his shoulder blades. These moments are so special to him; he wants Regulus to feel loved through his actions, to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels. There is so much trust that Reg offers him in these moments—it's intimate. James is the only person Regulus allows to see the most vulnerable parts of himself, and that knowledge alone makes James' heart swell with fondness and love. He has never loved someone as he does Regulus.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus.

Sometimes, James thinks Regulus was crafted specifically for him; as if the cosmos themselves conspired to mold him to perfectly complement the contours of James' own body, his own soul. Looking back, it's almost silly to him now—he thought he knew what love was like before him. His heart was already overflowing with it for Sirius, his mum, his dad, his friends. He's always had big emotions, brimming with affection and fierce protectiveness for the people around him. He's always cared deeply and felt profoundly, but nothing could have prepared him for the depth of feeling that Regulus brought into his life.

James knows nothing, nobody else could ever make him feel like this.

He settles his hands on the edges of the tape on Regulus' left side. "Gonna take it off now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay James. Go ahead"

James pulls at the tape gently, easing it from the skin. He's careful not to pull too hard or move too fast, patient as he works. He grabs Regulus' bicep, thumb pressing into the underside, fingers curling over. "Lift your arm up, Reg," he instructs softly.

Regulus raises his arm, holding it aloft as James' hand moves back down to steady the skin being separated from the tape. He can't resist pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his bicep before continuing to peel off the tape there. When he encounters a tough spot, where the tape still clings to his skin, James reaches for more oil. He warms it between his fingers once again before lightly holding the piece back, rubbing it into the seam between Regulus' skin and the tape until it loosens enough for him to continue. He carefully removes the first piece, then works at a second, a third, before repeating the process on Regulus' right side.

There's still a faint trace of leftover adhesive where the edges of the tape once were. So, James takes a cotton swab, dips it in oil, and meticulously traces the outlines left by the pieces. He moves slowly, with deliberate delicacy, mindful of the soreness of his skin.

Once he's satisfied, James fetches the washcloth. He soaks it in warm, soapy water and carefully cleans the area, wiping away excess oil and any lingering traces of the day. Then he reaches for the salve—the last physical part of their routine, though James knows the comfort it brings goes beyond just the skin. Two of his fingers dip into the container, scooping up the soothing balm. James is so careful with him, his fingers so gentle as they spread the salve, taking extra care with the tender skin under his arms and over his ribs. He traces the rungs of them, then the dip of his chest, making sure no skin is left uncared for.

James then grabs what's technically his own shirt—a worn, soft thing that Regulus has claimed as his own, his favorite pajama top—from the ledge of the sink. He helps Regulus slip it over his head, taking advantage of every second he allows him to be so close, to take care of him.

"Feeling okay?" James asks once Regulus is settled.

He trails his hand at the hem of his shirt, slipping it underneath to rest gently on his stomach, careful not to brush the newly cared-for skin or his chest.

Regulus hums an affirmative, "mhmm." Eyes closing and head tipping back as he nods.

"I'm not just asking about your skin, love," James whispers. It's tough for Regulus sometimes, taking the tape off, sitting with his chest. It's a necessity though, for his well-being, despite the discomfort it brings. And James always does everything within his power to make it easier for him. He knows he can't fix everything, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to.

Regulus reaches back, his palm sliding from James' elbow to his hand beneath his shirt, their fingers intertwining at his stomach. Their faces are so close that Regulus' cheek drags against James' as he turns his head, planting a soft kiss on James' cheek. "I do, I feel okay. I promise," he murmurs, giving James a warm smile.

Leaning back into James' frame, Regulus lets his weight settle comfortably against him. "You make it easier," he breathes out, words floating into the space between them. Another kiss, "Thank you. I love you."

James holds him a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, heart swelling just a little bit more. "I love you too."

#i wonder if the transphobes in my inbox realize that all that they accomplish is motivating me to write more trans reg sooo #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #marauders #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders fanfic #james x regulus

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another-lost-mc · 8 months

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a/n: this is for a friend that celebrated a birthday this week. I hope it was a good one! 🎉

when it's mc's birthday | the demon brothers

2.6k words | nsfw | gn!reader | fluff and non-explicit smut

cw: my fav bias is showing again. mostly soft!demons. car sex; levi's tail gets its own warning; bathing together and bath tub sex; dream magic and implied dream sex.

Lucifer plans your birthday with the utmost care. He booked a reservation at your favourite restaurant so that he can treat you to an intimate dinner. He remembered the various items you've pointed out to him in the past while browsing through the Devildom's shopping district. He went back and bought every single one of them, and they're already wrapped and tucked away in the back of his closet for later.

After he walks you home from the restaurant, there's a bottle of Demonus on ice waiting in his room. You share a toast while he watches you open your gifts. You kiss his cheek, eyes shimmery and warm with so much affection, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you properly. A soft, booze-sweetened kiss leads to another kiss, and another, and another after that. He strips your clothes off slowly, like he's unwrapping a gift of his own. He memorizes the sight of your body stretched languidly against his dark sheets. He almost feels selfish for a moment because he wants you so desperately, but the lust simmering in your gaze makes his heart race. He knows how much you want him too, and he's powerless to deny you.

The first time he makes love to you, it's heat and frenzied passion, the build-up of coy anticipation that finally boiled over. He reaches for you throughout the night between quiet conversation and short naps. Each time he pulls your body close to his again, his lips whisper tender confessions against the delicate shell of your ear while he worships your body with his over and over again.

Mammon isn't very subtle. In the days leading up to your birthday, he asks random questions about things you might like or activities you're interested in. He wants to get a head start and beat his brothers to the punch. His fake nonchalance isn't convincing, but it's still endearing how much he truly cares. Who else should celebrate your birthday if not him? He's your first, and he's not going to let anyone else spoil you more than he does.

He tries to budget his money and curb his spending so he can afford whatever it is you ask for. If that fails, he takes on some less-than-prestigious part-time gigs for extra cash. You could ask him for the world and he'd find a way to scrimp and save and scavenge and steal if he has to so he can give you whatever you want. He doesn’t realize (or doesn't believe) that his company is what makes your birthday really special.

He dresses up nice and polishes his car to a high-shine to match your own stunning smile and natural radiance. It doesn’t matter what you wear because when he tells you how gorgeous you are, he’s so sincere. You outshine all the riches and jewels he used to dream about—now he dreams of you instead.

He takes you on a date that's sweet and light-hearted. He holds your hand and stares at you across the table with a dopey grin on his face when he thinks you're not looking. Once you're alone in his car, that boyish giddiness fades into something greedy and confident. You meet him halfway when he leans over to give you a kiss. When kissing isn't enough for either of you, you push the seat back so he can climb over and settle between your legs. He takes you apart in the cramped front seat of his car until your voice is hoarse and you push him away from sensitivity. The car smells musky with sweat and cum and he doesn't care that you made a bit of a mess on the seat. He palms himself on the drive home, and by the time you get to his room, he's eager to do it all over again in the comfort of his bed.

Levi isn't sure what to do for your birthday, but you offer to plan a little outing for the two of you. All he has to do is keep you company, right? He braces himself with a mantra he repeats over and over in his head: do it for them, do it for them, do it and LIKE IT because you love them. It ends up being a lot more fun than he expects: a lunch date at one of the cafes you both like followed by a movie you’ve been excited to see. You don’t make fun of his sweaty palm when you hold hands in line to buy movie tickets and overpriced snacks at the concession bar. There's a cute plushie on display where they sell collectible merch. He buys that for you too and shoves it into your arms before you can protest.

He relaxes when you take your seats and the theatre lighting dims as the movie starts. You lean against his shoulder and he's glad you can't see how pink his cheeks are. Partway through the film, he decides he likes the movie, but not as much as he enjoys your warm fingers laced with his.

He jolts suddenly when you pull your hand away and slide your fingers onto his denim-clad thigh instead. Your fingers squeeze with the tiniest bit of pressure and he nearly gasps at the unexpected wave of lust that washes over him. He glances at you in confusion—you're still focused on the screen, but he can see the little smile curling the edge of your mouth. He squirms a little and pretends not to notice your fingers drawing lazy circle-eights across his jeans, inching higher up his leg when he doesn’t stop you. And you're right, he's not going to stop you. You run a fingertip over the growing bulge hardening against the zipper of his jeans, just as you feel his tail slide onto your lap and tease the sensitive skin between your legs.

Satan decides to take a different approach when he sees how overwhelmed you are by his brothers' plans for your birthday. Sometimes simple is best and what could be more relaxing or romantic than your favourite home-cooked meal? He fusses in the kitchen until everything is cooked exactly to your liking, and the dish he serves you looks as good as it smells. His room is tidied enough so that a small table fits—he doesn’t want the others bothering you if he serves you in the dining room. There are dozens of candles that cast you both in an ethereal glow while you eat together. His room might not offer the rich ambience of Ristorante Six or the electric atmosphere of The Fall, but nothing outshines the romance he creates here, just for you.

Once dinner is finished and he tidies up the mess, he pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you in a slow dance. It's more like swaying back and forth together as a classical record plays quietly in the background. Candlelight flickers playfully along the walls of his room, and your face is painted by a mirage of shadow and flame. He eagerly traces those shapes on your skin with his tongue after he lays you on his bed, and by the time you're shaking and falling apart in his arms, you'll know how much he loves you.

Your birthday is another chance for Asmo to spoil you. Throughout the afternoon, he leads you to each of his favourite boutiques in the Devildom's shopping district. He holds up dozens of clothes against your body and admires how the colours bring out your eyes or compliment your complexion or how luxurious the fabrics are. He pretends that he didn't pick all these out to show you (and buy them for you) in advance.

When he finally takes you to Majolish, his greatest gift is revealing that he personally designed this outfit specially for you. It fits flawlessly and even you think you look amazing. It’s obvious that he poured his love and passion into creating this for you when no one else ever has before. It’s almost overwhelming, the way his smile radiates warmth when he looks at you. His eyes burn with all the ravenous love he feels for you. He loses control of himself and kisses you, pressing you against the changing room wall and sliding his thigh between yours. He doesn't want to stop, but he doesn’t have the time or space to touch you properly here. When he pulls his leg out from between yours, he misses the searing heat of your body against his. Perhaps it’s for the best that he take you home first—he would hate to get stains on your new outfit so soon.

(He originally planned on taking you to The Fall but he changed his mind. He’s not in the mood to share you with anyone else tonight.)

When he takes you home, he leads you straight to his private bathroom and urges you to get undressed while he gets everything ready. He draws a warm bath and the steamy air clings to you both like a second skin. You feel self-conscious about being naked even though he stands before you, waist-deep in the bathwater and just as naked as you are. He takes your hand and pulls you gently into the water with him. He supports your weight when you lean against his chest and his hands start to wander over your body. His fingers leave a soapy trail up and down your spine. He cradles your neck and leans forward, capturing your lips in another kiss because he can't possibly wait anymore.

The kiss reignites both your desperate desires to touch and be touched. He walks you back towards the edge of the tub. When your back touches the cool marble stone, he reaches behind your thighs and lifts you onto the edge; he swallows your half-hearted protest with his lips moving greedily against yours. His mouth moves away from yours, ghosting along the curve of your jaw and down your neck while his fingers gently pry your legs apart. He bends his head low once you’re spread open for him, hot and trembling and all his. His eyes glow bright when you tangle your fingers in his hair, and it’s the last thing you see before he dips his head between your legs.

It's not surprising that Beel plans to take you out for dinner on your birthday. It's a tricky proposition because it's easy for him to lose control of his hunger when he goes out to eat. He doesn't want his sin to ruin your birthday dinner, so he eats a meal's worth of food beforehand. Having a partially-full stomach means he's not going to be completely distracted by hunger—he wants to focus on you.

He likes taking you to nice restaurants and your birthday is no exception. You put on a new outfit he’s never seen you wear before, but it looks so good on you that he's drooling from the corner of his mouth before you even leave the house. The restaurant is cozy and everything on the menu sounds delicious. Your nose bunches up adorably when you can't decide what to order, and Beel suggests ordering one of everything. He laughs deep in his belly when you glance at him skeptically over the brim of your menu. His eyes are bright with mischief even though you know he's dead-serious. He simply grins at you from across the table and reminds you that he won't let the food wouldn’t go to waste.

It doesn't take long for your food to arrive. Beel enjoys watching you eat while you make little sounds of contentment between bites. He offers you food from his own plate to try. When your plate is empty, he worries you might still be hungry; he's only satisfied when you promise that you're close to bursting and completely full. He leads you out of the restaurant by the hand, and his other hand carries a bag full of leftovers to share with you tomorrow.

When he walks you home, he doesn't want to seem needy or presumptuous even though he's reluctant to end the night so soon. He pauses outside your door and kisses you softly, whispering happy birthday against your lips that still taste sweet from your dessert earlier. He can’t resist swiping his tongue across the seam of your mouth for one more taste, and the kiss deepens when you part your lips for him. You only break the kiss just long enough to open your door and pull him inside your room before slamming the door shut again. Your hands tug impatiently at his waist, and he shivers at the metallic clink of his belt buckle coming undone. He can sense hunger rising inside you again, and when he pushes you gently onto the mattress and covers your body with his own, he realizes your appetite is as insatiable as his own.

Belphie doesn't mind if the others want to take the initiative and plan your birthday party. He prefers it that way, actually. When his brothers ask for his input, he recommends something casual at the house, nothing too fancy. He wants you to be happy and relaxed and spoiled where you can be comfortable.

He sneaks into town to buy you a gift before the party, of course—something you mentioned to him in passing once that was too expensive for you to justify buying at the time. He and Beel wrap the presents they bought you in their room. Belphie's present looks insignificant compared to the large pile of gifts stacked near your birthday cake. He's not worried, especially when your eyes light up when you open it. You're just as appreciative of his small gift as you are of the others you receive. He knows you so well.

(You keep the contents of his card to yourself: a reminder that he has something special to give you later.)

Sometimes when he takes you to the attic for bed, he falls back against the mattress and waits impatiently for you to crawl on top of him. There's no hint of his lazy smugness tonight though. His hands are gentle but efficient when he strips your clothes away first before taking off his own. He follows you down onto the bed and smothers your body with his. The soft mattress cushions you when he grinds against you, and it squeaks from the force of his thrusts when he rocks inside you too. Your skin is littered with the little marks he sucks and nibbles into your skin. He cleans you with a warm, damp cloth after because your thighs and belly are covered in a sticky mess of you and him. He takes care of you with so much tenderness. You’re already snoring lightly by the time he's finished, and he cuddles against you with a yawn.

Shortly after you fall asleep, you dream of him. It’s a shared illusion between you conjured with the sleepy brand of magic he commands. You writhe against him in your sleep as the embers of lust continue to burn deep inside you. When the dream ends, you both wake up and instinctively reach for each other as the remnants of the dream fades away. He kisses you breathless despite your stale morning breath. You whimper against his mouth and he rolls over until you're underneath him again. After indulging in a night of dreamy, lustful sins, you're both still desperately eager for more.

read more: obey me masterlist

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aemvnd · 2 months

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𝒶.skywalker. ┆ belonging.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ first time writing for anakin in a min …n yes it's a modern au . <3 be kind, pls. !!!

anakin skywalker is a naturally dominant man, and we all know that, but, when you're sitting in his lap, like just now, all pretty and your glossy lips all pouty and kissable, doe-like eyes all innocent and dreamy, anakin cannot help but want to have you, to possess you, to own you in every way possible—completely.

he craves you, desperately, day and night, every second of every waking moment, and his dreams, they're so vivid—they're of you, because of course they are, and you're so beautiful, so perfect, the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, or will ever know.

anakin knows he must have you, giving the sweet-smelling skin of your pulse point a soft, tender kiss, knowing you're a sensitive little thing, but he doesn't care, doesn't care that you whine and playfully swat at his thick, muscular arm, and he just wants you to understand, to understand that you belong to him—that you've always belonged to him.

"anakin," you mewl girlishly, so soft and sweet and naïvely beautifully, he cannot stand it, and he gives you a small, lazy smirk, his blue eyes sparkling as they slightly gaze down at you, watching you, watching your expressions as he wraps his strong, masculine arms around your waist, tugging you closer against himself on his lap, wanting to see how you'd react.

anakin loves your little reactions, always so shy and sweet, it makes him smile, how bashful you become around him, how you try to act as if your little cunt isn't quivering at just the mere sight of him, knowing your panties were already soaked with your sweetness, just waiting for him to lick you clean, happily and eagerly.

and anakin is more than happy to help you, to help relieve you, to relieve that ache you feel, and he wonders if you ever touched your sweet little pussy—good girl that you're, he doubts it, but he wouldn't know, you don't like talking about such 'naughty things' as you like to say, always too bashful around him to speak such lewd words aloud.

anakin has no such qualms, he enjoys discussing how he wishes to devour your sweet little pussy, to fuck you until you're numb and too dumb to speak, your limbs weak and needing his help to do basic things, like bring you snacks or bathe you—he'd do anything for you if you'd only ask, and even more.

"what's wrong, baby?" anakin croons lovingly, raising a large, tan-skinned hand and gently curling two long, calloused fingers under your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him, making your belly flutter with a swarm of butterflies—and anakin cannot help but smile wolfishly, chuckling softly as he can feel the way your body trembles in his lap, needy and wanting, and if you'd only ask, he'd give you what you so desperately crave, what you need.

all you need to do is ask, and anakin skywalker is more than willing to provide that relief for you, in any way you desire—he is yours, yours to command, just as you belong to him.

601 notes · View notes

urprettylittlething · 7 months

Text

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

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