#haven’t seen them anywhere in over a year…

[sn0wgr4ve]

* i wonder what happened to cakekid. i hope they’re okay wherever they are

[carnalcrows]

LAVENDER'S BLUE

summary: You weren’t supposed to be seen. But one night, one dance, and one stolen look from a boy you didn’t know was a prince changes everything. Now the kingdom is looking for you—and you have to decide if you’re brave enough to be found.

pairing: prince charming! gojo saturo x cinderella! male reader

content warnings: 18+, romance, fluff, angst, smut (oral + p in a), bottom male reader, signs of abuse, reader has chronic back pain, rats.

word count: 9.0k --- spotify playlist

best viewed in dark mode

There’s a quiet to the attic that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the house.

It settles after midnight, when the girls are done with their games and their laughter has thinned to silence. When your stepfather’s footsteps stop echoing through the halls. When the fire burns low and the wine is gone, and there’s no one left to perform cruelty for.

It’s only then that the house exhales—and you can breathe.

You sit on the floorboards beside the bucket you haven’t emptied yet. The rag in your hands is damp, skin-roughening with soot. It’s not a real task, not something that anyone told you to do. You just needed something to keep your hands busy. Something that gives shape to the hours between darkness and dawn.

Your fingers are raw. Your knees ache. There’s ash on your sleeves and a splinter in your thumb, but you don’t mind. The attic is cold, yes, but it’s yours. Or at least—it's the one place no one else bothers to climb. That counts for something.

You glance toward the slanted window tucked beneath the roofline. The sky is silver. Cloudless. The moon stares back at you like it knows something you don’t.

You lower your eyes before it can say anything out loud.

⋆｡°✩

There are mice in the attic. They keep their distance.

You’ve never named them—not out loud—but they come and go often enough that you’ve started to recognise them. One of them is missing a patch of fur behind the ear. One always carries crumbs bigger than its body. One skitters in tight circles before settling, like it needs to outrun its own shadow.

You think they must be cold too. Winter came early this year, and the insulation in the upper floors is barely more than memory. The girls have fireplaces and velvet robes. You have a blanket that smells like dust and the long sleeves of your mother’s old shirt, which you’re not supposed to wear but do anyway, under your tunic. Hidden. Just for warmth.

Sometimes, the mice come closer when you hum under your breath. You pretend it’s a coincidence.

⋆｡°✩

The house used to be warm. You remember it that way—brief flashes of your mother’s hands kneading dough in the kitchen, her voice humming off-key while she watered the herb pots by the windows. Back then, the floors didn’t creak like they were grieving, and sunlight used to touch the corners of the room without shame.

Now, it’s Geto’s house. Not in name, maybe, but in power. His daughters move through the rooms like they were born from silk and contempt. They call you by your name when they need something scrubbed, but otherwise, you’re “him.” Or worse.

You used to try to win them over. You tried for a long time.

And then you stopped.

Now you keep your head down and your back straight. You work quickly, quietly. You sleep with your door locked. You speak only when spoken to, and not even always then.

There is safety in silence.

⋆｡°✩

The announcement comes over burnt toast and tea that tastes like bark.

You’re not meant to sit at the table, but Mimiko was too distracted by her own reflection this morning to complain, and Geto likes to pretend he doesn’t see you unless he’s scolding you. You’ve learned to drift along the edges of the room—quiet, invisible, but still useful.

“There’s to be a royal ball,” Geto says, flipping the parchment open with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Every eligible noble and commoner invited. Apparently, the prince is looking to marry.”

You don’t react. You butter the toast without looking up.

Nanako lets out a delighted gasp. “A royal ball! Father, we’ll go, won’t we? We’ll need gowns. Jewels. A carriage—”

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Geto replies, folding the parchment again. “There’ll be time.”

“He shouldn’t go,” Mimiko chimes in suddenly, her voice sickly sweet. “He’ll be there. Can you imagine?” She turns to you with a sharp smile. “You, in the presence of royalty? You’d embarrass the kingdom.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for the moment to sting.

You don’t look at her. You nod, eyes fixed on your plate. You’ve become good at that—at swallowing down every little hurt before it blooms.

“That’s settled then,” Geto says, as if he were the one being mocked. “He stays home.”

You don’t ask who’ll clean the house before they leave. You already know.

⋆｡°✩

That night, you find yourself standing at the attic window again, forehead pressed to the glass.

It’s a habit you picked up as a child—watching the moonlight slip across the world while you imagined someone, anyone, looking back.

You used to tell yourself that one day, someone would. That someone would see you and know you. Not as a servant. Not as an afterthought. But as a person with a name, and a voice, and a heart that beats just as loudly as anyone else’s.

You don’t really believe that anymore.

But you watch the moon anyway.

Just in case.

The morning after the announcement, the house becomes unbearable.

There are fabric samples strewn across every chair. Shoeboxes lining the hallway. Perfumed letters arriving by raven—twice, even thrice a day. Mimiko and Nanako move through the rooms like glittering tornadoes, screeching over colour palettes and necklines, screaming at seamstresses who pretend not to flinch.

You scrub the floors while they argue about lace.

They barely notice you anymore. You’re just the shape that keeps the house polished. A pair of hands. A name they speak only when something’s spilt.

You try not to mind.

You’ve had practice.

⋆｡°✩

Geto brings in a mirror the size of a door and installs it in the dining room. “For fittings,” he says, waving off the servants as if he weren’t one once himself.

He stands behind his daughters as they twirl and pout, appraising them like fine art he expects someone else to purchase. He corrects posture. Adjusts wrists. Tells Mimiko she’s standing like a peasant. Tells Nanako she’s gaining weight.

You fold linens in the corner and try not to breathe too loudly.

He never looks at you. But you feel his disapproval anyway. It clings to your skin like ash.

⋆｡°✩

The day of the ball arrives like frost.

You wake before the sun, dress in silence, and sweep the staircases before anyone else opens their doors. There’s a rhythm to it now—scrub, rinse, repeat. The ache in your spine is familiar and comforting in its own small way. Pain, at least, is consistent.

By noon, the house smells like citrus oil and powdered sugar. The dresses are hung. The carriage is polished. Everything is perfect.

Except for you.

You stand by the front hall with the box of hairpins still in your hands as Geto makes his final inspection.

He nods once, satisfied. Then turns to you.

“You’ll stay here,” he says flatly. “Don’t open the windows. Don’t leave the house. And for heaven’s sake, stay out of sight.”

You nod. Of course.

The carriage pulls away.

And just like that—you’re alone again.

⋆｡°✩

You don’t cry.

You’re not a child anymore. You don’t believe in being rescued, and you don’t believe in magic. This world is a hard, cold thing, and there’s no use wishing it weren’t.

Still.

You wander through the empty rooms with the kind of quiet you imagine the dead must carry. Your hands drag across polished bannisters, past doorknobs and glass and velvet cushions that were never meant for you.

In the sitting room, a single slice of cake sits abandoned on a tray.

You don’t touch it.

Instead, you climb the stairs. Past the bedrooms. Past the locked study. All the way up to the top. To the attic. To the place you belong.

And when you close the door behind you, the weight settles over your shoulders like it always does—familiar and heavy.

But tonight, it feels just a little bit heavier.

Maybe because you let yourself imagine it.

Just for a moment.

⋆｡°✩

The sound comes just before nightfall.

A knocking—no, not quite. More like a sharp pop, a crack of air and wind and something older than both. It echoes, muffled, through the floorboards beneath your feet.

You freeze.

It happens again. Then silence.

You step cautiously toward the window, half expecting thunder, or maybe fireworks from the palace.

But the sky is clear. The world is still.

And the only thing staring back at you is the moon.

⋆｡°✩

The sound doesn’t come again.

You wait for it. Still, as the dust motes floated in the dying light. Ears strained. Eyes fixed on the floor, as if the silence might shift again, rupture again, give you some kind of sign.

But there’s nothing.

Just your own breath. Just the wind outside, curling soft fingers against the attic window. Just the ache in your knees, the sting in your wrists. The familiar weight of another evening with nowhere to go.

You stand there for a long time.

You think—maybe you imagined it.

Maybe that’s just what happens, when hope slips through the cracks of your ribs and you don’t catch it in time.

You move to sit down.

That’s when the second knock comes.

Not from below. Not from outside. But from within the attic.

From behind the wall.

You freeze.

Not a ghost. You don’t believe in those.

Not a thief. What kind of thief breaks into the attic?

There’s a creaking, low and almost…exhausted. Like the wood itself is trying to speak. Like something ancient is being disturbed, pulled awake by the wrong hands.

And then—

A sigh.

You swear you hear a sigh.

Soft. Dry. Slightly annoyed.

“Alright,” comes a voice. Flat. Unimpressed. “That’s enough dramatics. Move.”

You backpedal so fast you knock over the bucket.

The rag hits the floor with a slap. Water spills into the cracks between the boards. You don’t even look at it. You’re too busy staring at the corner of the attic that had definitely been empty before.

It isn’t empty now.

There’s a woman.

Or—at least you think she’s a woman. Her robes are a little too long and mismatched, and there’s a cigarette tucked between her fingers despite the fact that the chimney doesn’t reach this far. Her boots are muddy. Her expression is somewhere between world-weary and mildly inconvenienced.

She looks like she’s been late to every appointment she’s ever had and hasn’t felt guilty about a single one.

And she’s standing in your attic like she owns it.

You open your mouth to speak.

She beats you to it.

“Don’t scream,” she says, not unkindly. “You’ll scare the mice.”

You don’t scream.

You don’t move either.

Which is probably for the best, because she’s already walking toward you like this is normal. Like you’re the one intruding.

“I was aiming for the cellar,” she mutters. “But nooo, the magic said ‘aim for the heart of the house,’ and look where that got me. Dust in my lungs and you looking like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You finally manage to find your voice. Sort of.

“Who—”

“Shoko,” she says, waving a hand as if that answers anything. “Let’s skip the dramatic introductions, yeah? I’m on a deadline.”

You stare.

She exhales through her nose, then gives you the same look someone might give a plant that’s taking too long to grow.

“You’re him,” she says, lighting the cigarette with a flick of her fingers. No flint. No match. Just…fire, like it was waiting for her.

You don’t answer.

“Don’t do that,” she says. “Don’t look at me like you’ve never seen someone make a dramatic entrance before. I thought all you attic-dwelling waifs lived for theatrics.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know who you are.”

Shoko tilts her head.

“Well, no,” she says. “Not yet.”

⋆｡°✩

“You’ve got the look,” she says, nudging a cobweb out of the way with the back of her hand. “The quiet sort. Watches windows. Hums to keep from screaming.”

You’re still not speaking.

She sits down without asking. Cross-legged right on the attic floor like she wasn’t conjured into existence five seconds ago. Her cigarette smoke spirals toward the beams and settles around her like a crown of ash.

“I know what this is,” you finally say, voice quiet. “You’re a dream.”

Shoko snorts. “God, I wish.”

You don’t answer. The bucket of water seeps closer to your heel, a cold bloom against the wood. You stare at it. At her.

She doesn’t blink.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she says, softer now. Not gentle, but closer. Like she’s trying. “I’m here to help.”

You shift your weight. Not quite toward her. Not quite away.

“Why?”

She flicks ash from the tip of her cigarette. It disappears before it hits the ground.

“Because you deserve it.”

You blink.

She goes on. “I’m not saying that in the philosophical, vague-fairy-tale sense. I mean it in the plain, unromantic, real-world way. You’ve done the work. You’ve survived. You’ve kept your heart from going sour even when it would’ve been easier to let it rot.”

You laugh. It’s small and brittle.

“I don’t think anyone would call me kind.”

“I didn’t say kind,” she says. “I said whole. You still have a piece of yourself that no one’s broken. That’s more than most.”

She says it so casually that it takes you a second to understand she meant it as a compliment.

You don’t know what to do with that.

You sit, slowly. She watches, but doesn’t comment.

The floor creaks beneath you. The attic is very still.

She speaks again. “Do you want to leave?”

It’s such a simple question.

Do you want to leave?

You stare at her. Your tongue feels thick.

“I can’t.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t ask if you could.”

You swallow.

“I want—” you start, then stop. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Sure you do,” she says, ashing the cigarette onto nothing. “You’ve just been taught not to say it.”

Your hands twist in your lap. She waits.

You say it like it hurts.

“I want to go. Just once. I want to be in a room where no one looks at me like I’m something to step over. I want to be wanted, just for a night. I want to know what it feels like to be seen.”

Shoko nods.

You stare at her. “That’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No,” she says. “That’s a wish.”

⋆｡°✩

The air shifts.

It’s subtle—but you feel it. Like the attic exhales again, but this time with purpose. Something loosens in the walls, in the dark, in the shadows that have been your only company for years.

Shoko stands.

She snuffs out her cigarette on her palm. No mark. No burn.

When she speaks again, her voice is something older.

Not louder. Not deeper. But ancient. Measured. Like the moment you speak it aloud, it’ll echo.

“Then let’s give you your night.”

⋆｡°✩

She doesn’t wave a wand.

There’s no burst of glitter, no chorus, no sudden wind that tosses your hair back and makes your heart race. Nothing theatrical. Nothing pretty.

Instead, Shoko simply raises one hand—palm open—and exhales.

And the attic breathes with her.

The shadows bend first. Not away from the light, but toward it, curling like they’re waking up from a long sleep. The corners of the room soften, then blur, then ripple like heat above flame. Your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a sound, like thread pulling from cloth. And then—

Light. Dim at first. Then rising, warm and heavy like honey poured slow over your skin.

You don’t flinch.

You can’t.

It wraps around you. Not tight. Not painful. But thorough. Like it’s measuring. Weighing. Choosing.

Your shirt dissolves at the cuffs. Not burns—dissolves, the fabric unspooling into the air like mist. You lift your hands, startled, and they don’t feel like your hands anymore.

Shoko hums. “You’re lucky. Some people resist it. You—you’re letting it in.”

You blink at her, mouth dry. “Letting what in?”

She looks at you then, really looks, and says:

“Yourself.”

⋆｡°✩

The clothes build themselves, stitch by stitch.

It starts at your collarbones—warmth, pressure, then silk. Deep charcoal, almost black, but edged in silver so fine it could be moonlight. It fits perfectly, even before it finishes forming. Like it knew the shape of you before you did.

The sleeves wrap next—long, smooth, elegant. A flash of something translucent near the cuffs. Not ruffles, but something more fluid, like smoke in fabric form.

A jacket follows. Trimmed with silver thread, small accents that catch the dying light from the attic window. The kind of detail no mirror would ever see, but someone who was looking at you—really looking—might.

Your boots reform around your feet. Soft. Sleek. Practical enough to run in, but elegant enough to be remembered.

You don’t know how to breathe.

Shoko watches.

The final piece is a brooch—small, just over your heart. A pin in the shape of a crescent moon. Not garish. Not royal. Just… honest.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur, voice catching.

She doesn’t smile, but her voice is kind when she answers. “You don’t have to. Just wear it like you do.”

⋆｡°✩

The light fades.

The attic returns.

But you don’t.

You’re still you, but taller somehow. Straighter. Shoulders set. Like the weight hasn’t disappeared—but you’ve finally grown strong enough to carry it.

Your hands shake.

You press them against your chest. The fabric beneath your fingertips is real.

“I’m not supposed to be there,” you whisper.

Shoko flicks her cigarette back into her fingers and lights it with a snap.

“You’re supposed to be wherever you want to be,” she replies. “And tonight? You’re going.”

⋆｡°✩

You turn toward the attic stairs.

“Wait,” she says, and you freeze.

She tosses something into your hands.

Shoes.

Polished leather. Silver-buckled. Sleek, precise. The kind of shoes made for palace floors, not soot-stained attics. You run your thumbs over them. They’re real. Solid. One is slightly warmer than the other, like it’s holding onto something the world hasn’t seen yet.

“Enchanted?” you ask softly.

Shoko exhales smoke through her nose. “One of them.”

You blink. “Just one?”

She shrugs. “You only need one to be remembered.”

⋆｡°✩

The carriage waits at the edge of the estate.

It wasn’t there before. You would’ve heard it. Seen it. But now it sits beneath the moonlight like it’s always belonged—quiet, waiting, wheels perfectly clean despite the muddy road.

You don’t ask questions.

Shoko didn’t explain where it came from, and you didn’t ask.

You step down from the attic, cross the now-silent halls in a suit that doesn’t touch the floor when you move. The house doesn’t know you anymore. The wallpaper doesn’t sneer. The stairs don’t groan in protest. Even the silence has changed—it watches you now, instead of swallowing you whole.

You don’t look back.

Not at the staircase. Not at Geto’s study. Not at the kitchen where you used to stand barefoot and bleeding. That life still lives here, but you’ve stepped out of its skin.

For one night.

The coachman doesn’t speak. He tips his hat. The door opens. You climb in.

And the wheels turn toward the palace.

It’s farther than you thought.

You’ve seen it only from a distance—sharp spires against the horizon, gold-glass windows catching the sun like a promise. But up close, it’s something else entirely. Too large. Too luminous. The kind of place that exists outside time.

You step out into torchlight and laughter.

Music filters through marble arches. Strings and woodwinds. A swell of something grand, something old. People in silks and satin flow up the staircase like water—gloved hands, high collars, laughter polished and practised.

You shouldn’t be here.

But you are.

And no one stops you.

⋆｡°✩

The ballroom doors are wide open.

No guards. No fanfare. Just an invitation in the shape of light.

You cross the threshold on steady legs.

The floor is mirrored marble. Chandeliers drip crystal firelight. The ceiling stretches into a painted sky—cherubs and constellations you don’t recognise.

No one looks at you.

And somehow, that’s worse than the mocking would’ve been.

You drift along the edges at first. One step. Then another. A glass in your hand that you didn’t ask for. A compliment tossed over someone’s shoulder, not meant for you but close enough to sting.

And then—

He enters.

⋆｡°✩

You don’t see his face at first.

Just the way the room bends.

People part. Eyes turn. Laughter softens into interest. Not fear. Not awe. Just something deeper. Like gravity. Like inevitability.

And then he steps forward, and you understand.

White hair, sharp-cut and careless. A smile that looks carved into something ancient and shining. His coat is midnight blue, collar open just enough to be casual, cuffs rolled as if he’s already done dancing and plans to do it again.

There are jewels on half the people here. Gold on everyone else.

But he doesn’t need either.

He is the light in the room.

You don’t know his name.

You don’t even realise he’s looking at you until it’s too late to look away.

⋆｡°✩

You try to look away first.

That’s your mistake.

Because now he knows.

You’re not sure how you know he knows—but you do. It's in the tilt of his head. The slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. Like your gaze didn’t just find him, but called him.

And he’s answering.

He moves through the crowd like it was always meant to part for him. Not fast. Not eager. Just easy. Certain. As if he’s done this a hundred times before and always ends up here.

At you.

Your throat is dry. Your hand tightens around the glass you never drank from.

He stops in front of you.

Up close, he’s worse. Or better. You can’t decide.

His eyes are bright—too bright. The kind of blue people write songs about and then spend the rest of their lives trying to forget. His hair is a mess of silver and moonlight, and his smile is almost too much. Like he knows it is, and uses it anyway.

He glances down at your untouched drink.

Then back up at you.

“Not your thing?” he asks, voice low, amused. Not mocking. Not yet.

You manage a reply. “Wasn’t thirsty.”

“Lucky me,” he says. “Neither was I.”

He reaches out. Takes the glass from your hand. Places it on a passing tray without looking.

Then he holds his hand out to you.

Just like that.

As if you’ve already said yes.

As if you’ve always said yes.

“Dance with me.”

Not a question. Not quite a command. Just an expectation. A possibility.

You stare at his hand. At the long fingers. The pale wrist. The soft flash of a silver cufflink shaped like a star.

“I don’t know how,” you say quietly.

He leans in, just slightly. Just enough to make your breath stutter.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I do.”

⋆｡°✩

The music isn’t loud.

It doesn’t need to be.

He walks you to the centre of the room like it’s normal. Like every person isn’t watching. Like the marble floor doesn’t ache under your feet, trying to whisper, this isn’t for you.

But he holds your hand like it is.

And when you move—when your feet remember how to follow, when your body remembers joy—he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t lead you like you’re fragile. He lets you catch up. Lets you breathe.

And when you do—

You start to smile.

Not wide. Not bright. Just a little. Just enough.

But he sees it.

His smile answers yours.

And the world keeps spinning.

⋆｡°✩

The music fades into something slower.

Your chest is still rising too fast, but his hand is steady at your back. He hasn’t let go. Not once.

Every step, every turn, he watches you like there’s no one else in the room. Like this isn’t a palace. Like this isn’t a dance among royals. Like you’re not somewhere you shouldn’t be.

Like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“Still nervous?” he asks, voice low, just under the violin swell.

You glance up. His smile is soft now. Tilted. Familiar in a way it shouldn’t be.

“I didn’t know it would be this easy,” you say.

He raises a brow. “Dancing?”

“Being seen.”

He doesn't laugh. Doesn't look away. Instead, he slows you to a stop, right there in the middle of the floor.

His hand slips from your waist to your wrist.

“Come with me,” he says.

⋆｡°✩

He leads you out through the back hall, past open doors and gilded arches, until the palace swallows its own noise. The music fades behind columns. The warmth of the crowd falls away.

You step into a quiet corridor, and then—

A garden.

Not the one guests passed through. This is smaller. Older. Half-forgotten. Wild vines along the stone. A cracked marble bench. The scent of lavender and something sweeter underneath—like sugar left in the sun.

It’s moonlit and hidden and yours.

You inhale, and it fills your lungs like a prayer.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod.

He lets go of your wrist but stays close. Too close. You feel his breath near your temple. He’s taller than you’d realised on the dance floor.

“Do you bring all your dance partners here?” you ask, not meaning to sound like anything—but it comes out softer than expected. Curious.

His smile quirks, lazy and real. “Only the ones I want to keep a little longer.”

Your heart kicks once. Stupid thing.

“I’m not exactly... worth remembering.”

He looks at you then, full and unguarded.

“Funny,” he murmurs, “I was just thinking the opposite.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

So you don’t say anything.

His gaze drops to your mouth. Brief. Barely there.

But your breath stutters anyway.

You want to close the space between you.

He’s already leaning in.

His voice is barely a whisper now.

“What’s your name?”

You hesitate. You’d almost forgotten that you hadn’t given it.

“I—”

DING.

The first chime hits like a stone to the chest.

DONG.

You flinch.

He pulls back, startled.

DING.

“No,” you whisper.

The air shifts. Your jacket tightens. Something in the fabric shudders like it’s remembering itself.

You take a step back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait—” he starts, reaching for you.

DONG.

“I have to go,” you say, already turning.

“Wait! At least tell me who—”

DING.

You’re gone.

The night is breaking, and the magic is pulling you with it.

You run.

Not elegantly. Not the way you danced.

This is a stumble-sprint, half-flight down the corridor, heart pounding against your ribs like it’s trying to get back to him. The marble floors blur. Gold columns, oil paintings, half-turned faces in distant rooms—none of it matters now. Only the ache in your chest and the way the air grows heavier with every step.

The magic is unravelling.

You feel it in your sleeves first. The seams loosen. The silver edging at your cuffs begins to smoke and vanish, the way dew fades from a blade of grass. You press your hands to your chest like you can hold it all together—but the fabric keeps melting under your fingers.

The music is gone. The laughter behind you is too far to matter. All that exists is the echo of your boots—no, just one boot now—against the floor.

You don't remember when it happened.

Just that you turned a corner too sharp. That your foot slipped. That something caught for a second and then gave way.

You look down.

Your right foot is bare.

The enchanted shoe is gone.

You double back.

It’s lying on the stairs.

You don’t go back for it.

You can't.

DING.

The ninth chime.

The gold embroidery at your hem vanishes mid-step. The jacket fades, thread by thread, until all you’re left with is the thin, patched tunic underneath—too short now. Yours, but not yours anymore. The magic never fully disguised your body. It just made the weight feel lighter.

You grab the stair railing as the garden doors disappear behind you.

The tenth chime echoes off the stone.

You’re almost at the exit.

You think you hear your name.

Not your real name. Not the one Geto calls you with disdain. But yours. The one only someone who sees you might say.

But it’s too late.

You hit the gravel outside barefoot, panting, lungs burning with cold air and regret.

The eleventh chime splits the sky.

You don’t look back.

⋆｡°✩

Somewhere behind you, he stands at the top of the staircase. His gloves are in his pocket. His coat is unbuttoned. He’s not looking at the crowd.

He’s looking at the stairs.

And the single shoe left waiting.

⋆｡°✩

The twelfth and final chime rings out.

Midnight has come.

And you're already disappearing into the dark.

You wake before the sun.

You always do, but today it feels different.

Not because your body hurts—though it does. Not because the air is cold—though it bites.

But because something inside you is too quiet.

Like your chest has been scrubbed hollow.

The attic doesn’t look any different.

The boards still creak when you shift your weight. The frost still kisses the corners of the glass. The mice still rustle softly in the wall like they don’t know anything has changed.

But it has.

You sit up slowly, fingers curled in the edge of the blanket that isn’t warm enough. Your knees are sore. Your palms sting. The magic’s gone, and it didn’t leave anything for you to hold except—

Your breath catches.

You look down.

There it is.

Nestled at the foot of your bed.

One shoe.

Not both.

Just the right one.

Silver-buckled. Unscuffed. A quiet gleam to the leather that doesn’t belong to this world.

The matching pair had vanished with the rest of the suit. But this one stayed.

Of course it did.

You don’t touch it.

Not yet.

You just stare.

Your chest tightens slowly, like the ache has to rebuild itself from the edges in.

You replay the night in pieces.

The ballroom. The music. The boy with the moonlight grin and the storm in his eyes. The garden. His hand on your back. His voice, soft and certain, asking for your name like he’d keep it safe.

You wonder if he’s looking for you.

You wonder if he’s still at the top of those stairs.

You wonder if he’ll know you now, in patched sleeves and soot-stained soles.

If he’d want to.

You press the heel of your hand into your chest, hard.

Just to feel something.

⋆｡°✩

Far from the attic, in a palace where the candles never burn low, a king lies dying.

Not with drama. Not with blood or fury or breathless speeches. Just… slowly.

Quietly.

Gojo sits beside him.

He’s not dressed for grief. Still in the same half-wrinkled clothes from the night before—collar askew, hair a mess, the ghost of the ballroom clinging to his shoulders.

He hasn’t slept. Hasn’t moved since the garden emptied and the last guest was sent away.

He hasn’t spoken.

Not until now.

“I met someone,” he says softly.

The king doesn’t open his eyes, but his mouth twitches. Barely there.

“A noble?” he rasps, voice like dry paper.

Gojo almost laughs. “Not even close.”

The king hums. A tiny sound. “Thank god.”

That earns a real smile. Faint. Brief.

Gojo leans forward, fingers curled tight over the blanket. “I didn’t get his name. Didn’t even ask. He ran. Lost a shoe.”

The king’s chest rises slowly. “Romantic.”

“Frustrating,” Gojo says. “He was real. Not… shiny. Not faked. I think he looked right through me and still stayed.”

The king doesn’t speak for a long time.

Then—

“Then go,” he says, hoarse but sure. “Go find the one who saw you.”

Gojo’s throat closes.

The king’s eyes stay shut.

“You’ve carried this crown too long,” he murmurs. “Go be loved, Satoru. Don’t let this place kill that part of you.”

There’s silence.

Then Gojo bows his head.

“I will.”

⋆｡°✩

The king dies two days later.

The mourning bells toll across the city. The gates are draped in black. The court dons solemn silks and speaks in hushed tones.

Gojo buries his father quietly.

No fanfare. No grand declarations. Just a hand pressed to the coffin and a whisper no one hears.

He returns to the throne room with quiet thunder.

No coronation. No applause. Just a man in mourning with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders and something softer clenched between his hands.

A single shoe.

Silver-buckled. Clean as memory. The only piece of the night that didn’t vanish.

The court hushes when he steps to the dais.

He speaks without ceremony.

“I’m not here to celebrate a title,” he says. “I’m here to honour a promise.”

A ripple of confusion passes through the crowd.

Gojo lifts the shoe for all to see.

“This,” he says, voice steady, “was left behind by the person I danced with at the royal ball.”

Murmurs rise. Names, questions, whispers like wind.

Gojo’s next words cut straight through.

“I don’t know their name. Or where they came from. But I know how I felt.”

Silence now. Even the courtiers lean forward.

He breathes in. Then:

“Find them.”

The prince’s men arrive two days later.

They come in pairs—one to carry the shoe, one to carry the threat of a sword.

Some houses greet them with fanfare. Others slam the door. But in every room, they kneel before the hopeful, the desperate, the delusional, and ask them to try it on.

None of them fit.

None of them feel right.

⋆｡°✩

Toji doesn’t really want to be here.

He’s already threatened to eat the shoe twice. Nanami pretends not to hear him.

“You’re not putting it in your mouth,” Nanami says flatly as they stand in front of a bakery.

“I wasn’t gonna put it in,” Toji replies. “Just, you know. Scare the kid a little.”

“No.”

“They’ve got sugar tarts in there.”

“We’re here for the shoe.”

“I can multitask.”

Nanami sighs and knocks.

⋆｡°✩

Three houses later:

“This is a waste of time,” Toji mutters.

“It’s a royal command,” Nanami answers, like that means anything.

They’re standing in front of a weeping blacksmith.

“I swore I saw the mystery person,” the blacksmith says, tears in his beard. “They were in my dream. Had wings. Glowed.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

Toji offers him a handkerchief. “We’ll send word if we find them, yeah?”

The blacksmith sobs louder.

Toji pats him on the shoulder.

“You tried, champ.”

⋆｡°✩

Back at the estate, the air has changed.

You don't notice at first. You're doing laundry. Small, quiet motions. Wrists in soap, eyes on the window.

But when you climb back up to the attic, the door is open.

That’s not right.

You never leave it open.

You step inside.

Geto is waiting.

He’s holding something in his hand.

It takes you a moment to register it. To understand what you’re looking at. To realise it’s yours.

The other shoe.

The one the magic didn’t claim.

Geto doesn’t look angry.

Worse.

He looks resigned.

“I knew,” he says, voice low. “The night you came home. I knew it was you.”

You don’t speak.

There’s something brittle in your chest. Like glass.

Geto turns the shoe over in his hand. “It was supposed to be Mimiko or Nanako. Anyone else. Someone who could give this family something back. But you—”

He shakes his head.

“I married your mother for love, you know.”

You flinch.

“I was a servant. Just like you. She didn’t care. She saw me. She chose me. And then she died. And I got stuck. In this house. With bills, and mouths, and nothing to show for it but my hands and my daughters.”

He looks at you then, sharp and quiet.

“You think I hate you,” he says. “I don’t.”

You want to speak. You don’t know how.

“I envy you,” he finishes.

Then he drops the shoe.

And before you can move—before you can breathe—he steps on it.

It doesn’t break.

Of course it doesn’t.

The magic’s long gone.

So he picks it up instead.

And throws it out the window.

You hear it hit the gravel outside.

And then—

Click.

The door locks behind you.

Geto’s footsteps fade down the stairs.

And you’re alone again.

Trapped. Silenced.

But not invisible anymore.

⋆｡°✩

You don’t move right away.

You hear Geto’s footsteps fade, one by one, until the house swallows them whole. Until the only sound left is the wind against the glass, and the beat of your pulse behind your eyes.

The lock clicks again in your mind. Sharp. Final.

And then—

Nothing.

Just quiet.

You sit.

Not gently. Not with grace.

You drop straight to the floor, legs folded awkwardly, palms flat on the cold wood. The air smells like old wood and soap. Like sorrow dried into the beams.

Your hands curl into the sleeves of your shirt. Not to hide. Just to feel something.

The window glows with late morning sun. Too bright to pretend it’s still night. Too soft to call this anything but cruel.

You swallow.

You whisper to no one, “It wasn’t supposed to matter.”

The words hang there.

And then—

A scritch.

Then another.

Soft and quick, like tiny feet against the baseboard.

You blink down.

Yuji, the one with the torn ear, darts into view. He stops near your feet. Sits up on his haunches like he’s checking on you.

You offer him your palm.

He noses it once. Then skitters away to the corner where Megumi and Nobara have already gathered.

There’s a scrap of ribbon there. Frayed. Half chewed.

And a single wooden spool.

You don’t know how they found it. Or why they’re bringing it to you.

But they do.

You exhale.

“I’m not making a new shoe,” you say quietly.

They freeze.

You soften. “...Thank you, though.”

Yuji does a little hop. You can almost hear him say you’re not done.

You lean back against the wall.

You look at the door.

The lock is still in place.

The window is still too small.

Your limbs are still tired.

But something in you is standing up.

You’ve never asked to be found before.

But now— Now you know what it felt like to be seen.

And you’re not letting that disappear without a fight.

Bang bang bang.

Not a gentle knock.

Not the kind nobles use.

The door shakes in its frame.

Mimiko shrieks from somewhere down the hall, “Father—!”

“Coming,” Geto calls, voice too smooth, too fast.

He brushes dust from his sleeves and opens the door with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Nanami doesn't smile back.

Toji doesn’t look like he’s ever smiled at all.

The taller one—Toji, in dark military trim and boots that leave real dirt on the clean floor—looks over Geto like he’s furniture. Nanami, perfectly pressed and sharply polite, holds a velvet-lined box in his hands.

Inside it, nestled like a relic, sits the shoe.

The room tightens.

“We’re here on royal command,” Nanami says, calm as a cut. “Every household within the capital must comply.”

Geto’s smile doesn’t falter. But his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Of course,” he says. “My daughters will be thrilled.”

⋆｡°✩

The twins are anything but.

They stumble into the drawing room in matching silks, half-dressed and sweating.

Mimiko tries to charm. Nanako tries to lie. Both try on the shoe.

The shoe does not fit either of them.

Not Mimiko, who tried to stuff her foot in sideways, biting her lip like pain might be mistaken for grace.

Not Nanako, who screamed at the guards and insisted it was her shoe—until Nanami calmly pointed out it would have to be her right shoe, and she’d shoved her left foot in.

Both of them are red-faced now. Geto looks pale.

Nanami closes the velvet box with finality.

“That’s all,” Geto says quickly, stepping between them and the door. “Thank you for your time, but as you can see—”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Nanami says, already half-turned. “We’ll be on our way—”

And then— CRASH.

Not subtle.

Not small.

Wood shatters. Something heavy hits the floor above. Then a thud. A clang. Another loud bang, like someone’s trying to tear a room apart.

All three men freeze.

Geto doesn’t blink.

“Old house,” he says lightly. “It groans.”

Nanami narrows his eyes.

Toji’s already turning.

“It came from upstairs,” he says.

“No need,” Geto says quickly. “We told you, it’s just—”

“Storage,” Toji finishes, stepping forward.

And then—

A fourth voice speaks, smooth as silk:

“Open it.”

The knights turn sharply.

So does Geto.

Because one of the guards—the one who had been silent this entire time, helmet shadowing his face, standing too still in the corner—steps forward.

And removes his helmet.

White hair falls loose.

Eyes like the end of a sky.

It’s him.

The prince.

No coat. No crown. Just a low voice and a gaze that could slit a throat with kindness.

“Check the room,” Gojo says.

Toji doesn’t hesitate.

He moves toward the stairs.

And Geto?

Geto stops breathing.

⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, upstairs—

You’ve already broken a chair.

The window’s too high, and the door won’t give, but fury moves faster than fear.

You threw the table against the wall. You shattered a glass jar. The room is in chaos.

Not because you thought someone would hear you.

But because if you’re going to be locked away again—this time, the walls will remember you were here.

And downstairs, they just did.

⋆｡°✩

The door gives way with a shudder and a kick.

Toji steps inside the attic like he’s seen a thousand rooms like this—and hates every one of them. He doesn’t speak at first. Just scans the broken chair, the shards of glass, the boy standing in the middle of it all like a storm passed through him and didn’t finish the job.

You square your shoulders, fists tight.

“I’m not going quietly,” you say.

Toji raises a brow.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Not until you try on the shoe.”

⋆｡°✩

You’re still stunned when you’re led down the stairs.

The house feels different now—seen, somehow. You don’t flinch when Geto glares. You don’t look at the twins when they hiss your name like it’s a curse.

Because all you see is him.

Gojo.

Not in a dream. Not behind a mask.

Just him.

And he’s looking at you like you invented music.

⋆｡°✩

“I didn’t know,” you say softly.

His smile curves at the edges. “Good.”

You blink. “What?”

“I wanted to be seen as me, not as—” He waves a hand. “Royal disaster. Golden boy. Walking headline.”

“You’re still ridiculous,” you mutter.

“Mm,” he says, “but you danced with me anyway.”

⋆｡°✩

Nanami brings the shoe.

It still gleams like it remembers the night better than you do.

You kneel.

Your fingers tremble.

You fit your foot inside.

It slides in like it never belonged anywhere else.

A quiet settles over the room.

Nanami exhales, almost like relief.

Toji nods once.

The twins make some sound between a gasp and a wail.

And Gojo?

He takes two steps forward.

Then drops to one knee.

No theatrics. No ceremony.

Just him.

And you.

And the weight of everything you both carried here.

“I don’t know your name,” he says. “But I’d like to learn it every day.”

You swallow.

His hand is warm.

“Will you marry me?”

You stare at him.

Then, slowly, like something new is blooming in your chest—

You smile.

And take his hand.

The palace feels warmer now.

Not because of the sun. Or the gilded windows. Or the three-tiered cake that someone dropped during the reception and tried to blame on the reindeer.

But because of him.

Gojo stands beside you on the balcony, arm loose around your waist, his thumb brushing idle circles against your side like he still can’t believe you’re real.

You’re both still in partial wedding attire—him with his jacket tossed over a chair somewhere, you barefoot, crown lopsided, shirt collar unbuttoned and clinging just a little to your throat. You should probably be inside. The court is probably looking for you.

But the garden below is quiet.

And the air tastes like late summer and the end of something you never thought would happen.

⋆｡°✩

“What happened to them?” you ask, leaning into him just enough to be smug about it.

He hums. “Geto’s under investigation for falsifying noble status. Pretty sure he’s banned from the capital for life. Last I heard, he’s trying to sell spiritual healing potions out of a cart in the countryside.”

You snort. “And the twins?”

“Assigned to community service. Fifteen years of it.”

You blink. “What do they do?”

“Paint fences. Clean royal kennels. Muck out stables.”

You try to look sympathetic.

You fail.

⋆｡°✩

The sky is peach-gold now.

You lean back against the railing, one hand braced behind you, and Gojo’s eyes trace the line of your neck like he’s memorising it.

“What?” you ask, smirking a little.

“You’re too pretty for this world,” he says easily. “I might have to exile you just to stop fights.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not exiling me. You married me.”

He steps in closer.

“I did, didn’t I?”

His hand settles just under your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His smile turns softer.

Hungrier.

“Wanna kiss your husband?”

You grin. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t wait for permission.

⋆｡°✩

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, voice like velvet warmed in sunlight.

You don’t answer. Just let your fingers trail down the line of his collarbone, slow and curious, feeling the heat beneath his skin. You’re still a little dazed from it all—the ceremony, the kiss, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the kingdom.

Maybe the world.

Gojo watches you with a softness that doesn’t match the grin tugging at his lips.

“Still thinking about saying yes?” he teases, tilting his head.

You hum. “I’m thinking I want to kiss you again.”

“Be my guest.”

You lean in. He meets you halfway.

The kiss starts gentle—lazy, even. But there’s something under it now. Something hot and restless curling between your ribs. Your fingers move to his jaw, then to the back of his neck, dragging him just a little closer. He obliges with a pleased sound, deepening the kiss, mouth parting just enough to catch your breath between his lips.

He tastes like sugared wine and strawberries, and you swear you could drown in him.

By the time you break apart, you’re breathing harder than you expected. Your eyes meet, close enough to feel the words before you say them.

“I want you,” you whisper.

It comes out raw. Honest.

Gojo stills. Just for a moment.

Then—

“Yeah?” His voice is lower now. Rougher around the edges. “You sure?”

You nod.

“Then come here.”

⋆｡°✩

He lifts you before you realize he’s moving. Hands strong, steady, one at your back, the other beneath your thighs. You yelp softly, laugh against his throat, and he huffs out a breathless chuckle that turns into something deeper.

The doors to your chambers are already cracked open. He kicks them wider.

The room beyond is quiet. Candlelit. Fresh linens, tossed shoes, and half a glass of wine still left untouched on the bedside table. You don’t see any of it.

Just him.

He sets you down gently, reverent in a way that makes your chest ache.

You sit on the edge of the bed as he leans in, hands braced on either side of your thighs, lips ghosting over your cheek, then your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, voice low and warm.

You reach up. Thread your fingers into his hair.

“Kiss me like you did that night,” you say. “And don’t stop.”

He grins against your mouth. “Gladly.”

And he does.

⋆｡°✩

The world falls away the second his lips meet yours again.

There’s no crowd here. No music. No kingdom watching. Just the sound of his breath and yours, the rustle of fabric as fingers drag slowly down your back, and the warm press of his palms against your skin like he’s memorising every inch of you.

You pull him closer. He goes willingly.

The kiss deepens. His mouth is hot and sure, moving with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. His tongue brushes yours, and you gasp into him—your fingers clutching the back of his shirt, your legs parting slightly as he slots himself between them.

He presses you gently back onto the bed.

The sheets shift beneath you—soft, crisp, faintly perfumed—and his weight follows, settling against you with a slowness that feels like worship.

His hand cradles your face as he kisses you again, slower now. Lingering. Like he has all the time in the world.

“Still sure?” he asks, voice hoarse at the edges, lips brushing your cheek.

You nod, breath caught in your throat. “I want you.”

Gojo exhales like he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life.

“Okay,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

⋆｡°✩

He doesn’t rush.

He undresses you carefully, easing your clothes from your body piece by piece, always watching, always touching, like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His hands trail down your arms, your ribs, your hips—every inch of your skin kissed, touched, praised.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, not like a compliment, but like a fact.

His own clothes fall away soon after, and when he kneels above you, bare in the candlelight, you forget how to breathe.

He’s strong. Slender. Scars across his stomach, down his hip—each one traced gently beneath your fingers. His eyes darken when you touch him, a low sound humming from his chest as you explore him with quiet wonder.

He kisses your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thigh. Each press of his mouth is tender, reverent. You shiver when his lips ghost lower—when he parts your legs with one slow sweep of his hand and settles between them like he was always meant to be there.

When his tongue touches you, your fingers curl in the sheets.

He’s slow. Gentle. Languid.

Learning you. Reading every twitch of your hips, every gasp, every whispered plea. He hums when you moan, the sound low and satisfied.

You arch when he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, voice rough and thick with want.

And he does.

With his mouth, his fingers, his voice—coaxing you open, unravelling you gently, turning heat into warmth into fire.

By the time you come undone, you’re panting, legs trembling, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He doesn’t leave you. Doesn’t pull away. Just presses slow kisses to your skin and climbs up to meet your mouth again, breath catching as he feels you cling to him.

You reach for him. Trace the line of his jaw.

“Take me,” you whisper.

And he does.

⋆｡°✩

He enters you slowly, carefully, stopping when you tense, kissing your throat until your body melts into his again. His hand finds yours against the pillow, lacing your fingers together as he presses deeper.

It’s intense. Full. Your breath stutters, and his does too.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod.

He starts to move, and it’s overwhelming.

His weight on you, his breath on your neck, the way your bodies move together—every thrust angled with care, every sound he makes pressed against your ear like a secret. He moans when your hips rise to meet him. Groans when you say his name like you mean it.

He doesn’t look away. Watches you fall apart underneath him. Watches your lashes flutter, your mouth part, your breath hitch.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, voice wrecked.

You pull him down, kiss him hard, gasping against his lips as heat blooms low and deep in your core.

He speeds up—just enough.

The sound of skin on skin, the headboard creaking gently, the rhythm of his hips, your hands in his hair—it all builds into something slow and bright and utterly consuming.

You fall apart first, back arching, thighs clenching around his waist.

He follows with a gasp, pulling out just in time, his hand stroking you through it as he spills onto your stomach with a trembling groan.

⋆｡°✩

After, he’s quiet.

He wipes you down gently, kisses your chest, your temple, your knuckles.

Then he pulls you into his arms, your head tucked beneath his chin, his thumb stroking slow circles into your spine.

You’re half-asleep when he whispers, “I’m never letting you go.”

You smile.

“You better not.”

Later, as the sun dips below the rooftops, you’re sprawled together on the balcony, limbs tangled, cheeks flushed, breath finally slowing.

He presses his forehead to yours.

You close your eyes.

The world is quiet again.

Until—

Scurry scurry.

You open one eye.

Yuji. Then Megumi. Then Nobara.

The mice dash across the stone railing, tails twitching, feet fast, all three heading for the figure standing just beyond the edge of the light.

Shoko.

Still in her boots. Still in her long coat. Still impossibly cool.

She holds out one palm.

The mice leap into it without hesitation.

She glances at you and Gojo, sprawled out and glowing like kings in love.

“Cute,” she says.

You sit up. “You stayed?”

She lights a cigarette with a flick of her fingers.

“Nah,” she says. “I just came to collect my assistants.”

Gojo squints. “Assistants?”

“They picked you,” Shoko says, looking directly at you.

You blink.

She exhales a thin ribbon of smoke into the sky.

“My job’s done.”

And then— She vanishes.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩

You sit there for a moment.

Gojo’s hand finds yours.

The stars come out.

And this time—

You don’t wish on any of them.

You already have everything you asked for.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.  

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing. 

And that it was utterly...evil. 

“It’s going to be FUN !” 

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family. 

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish. 

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.” 

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile. 

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point. 

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed. 

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”. 

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes. 

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise. 

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters : 

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”  

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby. 

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore). 

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl. 

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne. 

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children. 

That was happiness then, right ? 

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”). 

And that what’s made him particularly evil. 

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !). 

And he knew they were a little worried about him. 

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok” to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family. 

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad. 

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried. 

And Bruce knew. 

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan. 

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ? 

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise. 

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours. 

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves. 

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them). 

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit. 

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her. 

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it. 

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby. 

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family. 

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms. 

Evil. Your husband was downright evil. 

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW. 

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”. 

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself. 

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin. 

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing. 

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?! 

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation. 

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him. 

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them). 

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children. 

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated. 

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today. 

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird. 

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least. 

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ? 

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image. 

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy. 

Odd. 

Yet, sweet. 

Were they surprised ? Yes. 

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely. 

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too. 

Were they happy for him ? For sure. 

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to. 

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky. 

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!” 

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter. 

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her. 

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter. 

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards- 

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness. 

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most. 

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away. 

Damian. 

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously. 

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends. 

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her. 

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ? 

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family. 

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”. 

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice). 

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life. 

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking. 

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon). 

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them. 

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes. 

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.  

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly. 

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”. 

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes. 

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her. 

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course). 

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh. 

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together. 

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him. 

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman. 

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that. 

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to. 

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it. 

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA. 

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable. 

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ? 

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.” 

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people. 

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time. 

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest). 

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed. 

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him. 

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone. 

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents. 

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements. 

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted. 

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really. 

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to. 

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart. 

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too. 

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least). 

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions. 

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep. 

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too. 

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace. 

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little. 

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him. 

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ? 

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way. 

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and- 

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept. 

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel. 

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture. 

Seriously. That guy !! 

************

Batman smiling was...different. 

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad. 

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes. 

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say). 

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much. 

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine. 

It made them all feel...soft. And warm. 

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it. 

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love. 

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now- 

His family. 

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that. 

A loving man, who wanted to protect others. 

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all : 

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate. 

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons). 

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction. 

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower. 

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child. 

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy. 

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah. 

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world. 

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant- 

Oh it meant so much. 

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters. 

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious- 

All positive feelings. 

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them- 

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh. 

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness. 

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly. 

He knew. 

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again. 

He knew. 

He never loved like that before. 

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :). 

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ? 

[heyitsoak]

MOVIE SHADOW X READER HEADCANONS

Gender neutral reader

Just finished watching Sonic 3 and it was awesome!! Haven’t seen anyone written for movie Shadow yet sooo.. 👀

Warnings?: No spoilers for the movie in this! But maybe him being out of character, I haven’t wrote anything in years lol

- I feel like his love languages would be quality time and physical touch, he wouldn’t be used to touch at first but would gradually warm up to it. Definitely wouldn’t be the type to be over the top with public affection. Maybe handholding or a hand on your waist in public, but that’s probably it

- Might would be one to get jealous, needs reassurance that you’re not leaving and that you love him, truly. He’s been through a lot and needs to know that you’re not leaving him too

- Likes looking at the stars with you!! Reminds me of that one meme

“Do u like stars?”

“Ya, they’re cool”

- Likes to watch moves with you too! Just please don’t have him watch movies that have ‘aliens’ that are considered bad guys in it :( Just watch cat videos on YouTube with him, he’d be content with that

- Try and show him video games! He’d be really confused on how the controls work, a lot has changed in fifty years

- I feel like he’d like the game Stray, cause cats!! I feel like he absolutely loves cats. Would also probably like Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing. Anything that’s a calm game where you can just do whatever

- Speaking of cats.. he’d love going to a cat cafe with his s/o, would probably want to take them all home afterwards though

- Would end up having a black cat come up to him, rubbing against him and purring. He’d just pick up the cat and ask

“..can we take him home?”

- You can’t say no to Shadow, especially when he’s holding a cat in his hands.. so needless to say, you guys have a new pet now

- But besides cafe dates, just staying at home and cuddling would be perfectly fine with him as a date, anywhere with you, he’s happy

- I feel like he’d genuinely be a really good boyfriend, just takes him time to warm up a bit and get more comfortable with romantic stuff

- And motorcycle rides!! They’d be so fun, but if you get scared if he ever goes too fast, just ask for him to slow down or go a normal speed, he’d probably listen (cause it’s you)

- Gets all blushy and flustered when it comes to physical affection and kisses, he’s not used to it but he loves it

- He’d also like music, specifically older songs. Likes to put vinyls on a record player and dance with you to the song :’)) even if you don’t know how to dance, he’ll try and guide you

Not really sure what else to add here! Hopefully this was good, sorry if it was out of character :’)

I absolutely love Shadow so much, he’s such a cool character and looked so amazing in the movie

[snickerdoodlebaby]

She Likes Them Mean - Namgyu x reader x Minsu [SMUT]

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (between you & Namgyu), dub-con, dark themes, cuck Minsu, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, choking, slapping, you & Namgyu are exes

Basically sweet innocent Minsu has a crush on you & is forced to watch you get fucked by Namgyu. I’m shocked I haven’t seen a fic of this yet & couldn’t get this idea out of my head, it’s way too hot frrrr enjoy <3

Minsu is always so nice to you. That pretty much sums up how you feel about him — he’s nice. You can tell the shy boy feels more for you though. The way he stares at you when he thinks you won’t notice, looking down quickly when you turn to meet his soft eyes. Choosing to be by your side in every game and sitting close to you at lunch time. The weak smiles he sent your way and how his face would turn red when you accidentally brushed up against him.

The feelings would never be reciprocated, but you enjoyed being friends with him, his quiet presence was somewhat soothing in this godforsaken hellhole. You felt pity for him, especially when he was bullied by Thanos and your ex-boyfriend.

The bullying seemed to increase dramatically once you joined their team.

Any quiet comment or slight touch between you and Minsu was immediately followed by a brutal shoulder-check or insult from Namgyu. “Fucking pussy.” Namgyu spat as his shoulder bump nearly threw Minsu to the ground.

The two of you had dated for over a year before things got messy and fell apart. And when shit hit the fan, it got ugly. The departure was far from civil, you leaving his apartment in a rush of back-and-forth yelling with suitcases full of your stuff after another fight — not uncommon with you two.

It seemed like Namgyu thought he still had some sort of weird ownership over you. This time you had enough — it’s not like he had any say in what men you spoke to or interacted with.

“Leave him alone, dickhead...” You’d say under your breath, glaring at the back of Namgyu’s head as he stopped in his tracks. You hear him curse under his breath, recognizing the korean word for “bitch.”

He didn’t hesitate to turn back around, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and walk directly up to you. His black eyes narrowing as he searches your face. “Huh?” His eyebrows raised, “Why are you standing up for this dork? You like him or somethin?”

A short breath leaves your nose in a humorless laugh. You didn’t justify his questions with an answer. The close proximity of Namgyu’s body to yours almost had you dizzy, reeling from the memories the faint smell of his cologne brought back.

Namgyu’s eyes flicked to Minsu sizing him up, who was cowering and making himself as small as possible next to you.

“If you think being nice and sweet is gonna get her to spread her legs, it won’t.” Your mouth dropped open at his lewd words, he said it low enough so that only you two could hear.

“She doesn’t like weak pussies like you. And don’t think I didn’t see you take the bed next to hers.” He nodded in the direction of your bunks. He looked back down at you and leaned forward with his lip curled in a sneer, enjoying how uncomfortable Minsu was getting and the incredulous look on your face. “Bet this bastard jerks off to your sleeping face every night.”

The vulgar words made Minsu visibly flinch and he couldn’t look anywhere but his own shoes. Hearing Namgyu make these crude accusations so openly made his face burn. He had never thought about you in such a filthy way, truly! He was petrified in embarrassment.

You were fuming, astounded at the audacity of this man. Namgyu has always been a sleazy asshole so you should’ve seen this coming. Of course he would try to put poor Minsu in his place while claiming his stake on you. Minsu would probably be too terrified to even glance in your direction now.

Namgyu went further than that, of course. He had a point to prove to this pathetic loser who had no chance in hell of getting with you.

That same night Namgyu had you face down and ass up in your bunk, his favorite position to take you in. Your sweatpants were pulled messily to your ankles along with your panties, your shirt bunched above your tits as they bounce with each rock of Namgyu’s hips against your ass. “Yeahhh…that’s how you like it huh? Bet you’ve missed it.”

His veiny ringed hand was threaded through your long hair, pushing your face into the thin mattress below. Your eyes fluttered and rolled back into your head, your cunt squeezing the life out of your ex’s cock you missed so much.

The two of you weren’t the only ones awake. There was a third — Minsu, the next bunk over, frozen. His blanket was pulled up to his chin, his eyes wide at the debauched scene happening in front of him. The girl he had a crush on getting absolutely railed by the guy who constantly bullies him. The darkness did little to hide the two of your activities, your bunk squeaking and bodies rocking together in a lewd slapping sound disrupting the silence.

Namgyu suddenly wrenched your head up by your hair, making you cry out. He was forcing you to look at Minsu a few feet away, the two of you making eye contact as you moaned and panted. Guilt mixed with pleasure surged through you in waves.

You thought you saw tears well up in the quiet boy’s eyes. He was such a sensitive soul, you didn’t want to hurt him… Namgyu’s next words were venomous as he uttered them.

“Yeah, look at ‘er…” He directed at Minsu. “She’ll. Never. Want. You.” Each word was punctuated by him jackhammering roughly into your abused cunt.

His hand comes up to grip your throat tightly, cutting off your moans and pulling you tight to his chest against your back. “Yeahhh fuck. Y’ always come crawling back, need your cunt fucked nice n’ hard n’ I’m the only one who can do it right, huh?”

You couldn’t breathe and you swear you’ve never felt so good, you couldn’t tell what planet you were on or what nonsense was babbling out of your mouth. Namgyu always had a way of making your head empty and your pussy full, so fucking full.

He released the hold on your throat, a huge gasp of air rushing into your lungs and he’s at the nape of your ear, breathing you in deeply like he was trying to savor the scent of you after being away from it for so long. His hand came up to your cheek in a sharp slap. “Fucking freak can’t get off unless I slap her around.” You moaned loudly at that. Your brain could barely comprehend what he was saying to Minsu. You couldn’t deny the way the extra pair of eyes sent more slick seeping out of you.

You think Minsu really might be crying now, confirmed by what Namgyu said next. You feel his sadistic snicker against your ear, his breath hot. “What? Sad your crush turned out to be a nasty shameless whore?” Namgyu couldn’t stop running his mouth when you were under him.

With blurry half-lidded eyes you glance at Minsu. His gaze was locked onto your bouncing tits squished against the bed. “He can’t look away. Fucking pervert.” Cold fingers clamp down on your clit, pinching it in rapid vicious pulses. A choked scream left your parted lips, quickly muffled by two ringed fingers. Namgyu wanted to make sure you came hard while the shy boy was watching.

“Tell him I own your pussy.” Namgyu’s words were gospel when he was fucking you, and you couldn’t do anything but follow.

You hadn’t been fucked — no, you hadn’t been fucked like this in so long. None of the guys you slept with after the breakup compared, none of the orgasms even came close to how easy Namgyu had you shaking and creaming. At least that’s what you told yourself, to justify why you were about to cum so hard and easily around him.

“Namgyu owns my pussy! Namgyu owns my pussy!!!” The chant left your mouth in a desperate mewl over and over.

Clear liquid gushed out of you, spraying Namgyu’s thighs and dripping down his balls that were still slapping against your ass.

Namgyu cursed when he realized what was happening, rutting his cock into you a few last times before he stilled as deep as he could and came. God, it felt like he was trying to push into your womb. You felt shameful that Minsu had to see you like this, in this debauched state.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you or look you in the eyes for the rest of the games. Especially because he came twice in his sweatpants watching you get fucked that night.

[covenofagatha]

Summer Starts With You

Agnes x reader

You're bored at your graduation party until your mom's best friend, Agnes, shows up.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: agnes has a penis, blowjob, sex, age gap, bratty reader, choking, handjob

“So, graduation…what’s next?”

It’s the only question you’ve been asked for the last few months. It’s gotten boring—you’ve lately started switching it up. Sometimes, you’ll tell them that you have absolutely no clue. Other times, you’ll tell them you’re thinking of going on to get your doctorate. 

God forbid they give you more than two seconds after graduating college to figure out the rest of your life. All you know is that you want to have a free summer so you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no responsibilities or school or work to worry about. You’re owed at least that. 

You plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m going to probably take a small break, maybe a gap year, and then apply for my Masters.” 

A lie, or maybe not. You don't know yet.

It’s a distant relative you’re talking to, a cousin a few times removed that you haven’t seen in a few years, but for your grad party, your parents pulled out all the stops and invited as many people as they could. It’s a party at their house and guests have been trickling in and out for the past two hours. 

Only one more hour of The Question to go. 

“Don’t take too long in between,” your cousin advises solemnly. “Super hard to get that motivation back.” 

You nod. “That’s what everyone says.” 

There’s people hovering in your periphery, just waiting to talk to you. You told your parents you didn’t want a big thing but of course, this was more about showing their daughter off to everyone rather than actually giving you the small get-together you actually asked for. 

All you want is a break. 

Or someone interesting for you to talk to. 

As if on cue, the front door opens and in walks Agnes O’Connor, one of your mom’s best friends. She’s a detective and you’ve had the hots for her ever since she pulled you over your sophomore year of college for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She had ultimately turned you down after you had flirted for a bit—you could tell she was thinking about it, at least—but she didn’t give you a ticket. A good sign.

That's actually how she met your mom, after you had exaggerated just a little when you told your parents about getting pulled over and your mom had flown into the station in a rage, hellbent on finding the woman who had “accosted” her darling daughter. 

Agnes had explained what really happened—although she left out the flirting; another good sign—and for some reason, that’s what made them click. 

You watch her look around the crowd of people and you lock eyes. She raises a brow and you wink. 

Just because she turned you down the first time, and the second time, and all the other times you’ve tried, doesn’t mean you stop. She’s fun to tease, even if you know it’s probably not going anywhere ever. Plus you see the heat in her eyes, the way she checks you out when she thinks you're not looking. She wants you just as bad, she just has a harder time admitting it to herself.

Agnes walks over into the kitchen where platters of subs, chicken nuggets, and fruit are laid out and she picks up a plate. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing a royal-blue checkered shirt with navy pants and black boots. Your vision is glued to the subtle swaying of her ass in those pants that fit her just right and someone says something to you that you completely miss. 

She grabs a sandwich and spoons some watermelon onto her plate and then takes a beer. You feel hope rising in your chest that she’ll come over and save you, but much to your chagrin, she walks over and finds your mom. They strike up a conversation and you’re left having to answer The Question again. 

This time, you tell them that you’re going to try to find a job and the couple says, “Good luck.” You know what that means—you’re not finding a good job right out of college and you better get your ass back in school. 

All of your friends are outside, actually having a good time. You long to join them, but your mom will kill you if you disappear into the backyard, or anywhere. You’ve thought about making a break to your room a few times, but she always stares you down like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she’s just daring you to try. 

But then Agnes touches your mom’s arm, whispers something in her ear, and walks right past you into the sitting room at the front of the house. It has doors and she’ll be the only one in there. 

“Will you excuse me?” you say to the person you’re talking to now—a neighbor of your parents, maybe a friend of your dad’s—and avoid your mom’s eye contact as you follow Agnes into the room. 

Just as you suspected, it’s only Agnes, and she’s sitting on the gray couch against the wall, right in the middle. Her legs are spread just a bit, the plate of half-eaten food on the end table next to her, and her beer in hand. 

“Thanks for coming, Agnes,” you say as you close the door behind you. She smirks and rakes her eyes over the crop top and definitely too-short jean shorts you’re wearing. “Were you expecting someone in here?” 

She gives you a crooked, wry smile. “Just wanted a little break from the festivities.” It’s not a definitive “yes, I wanted you to follow me,” but you can read between the lines. 

You grin and cross the room in a few long strides and slide right onto her lap sideways, so your thighs are perpendicular on top of hers. You steal the beer bottle and take a swig. 

“Congrats, kid,” she says in a gruff voice and she shifts beneath you. Her lashes are long and you’re so close you think you could count them. Her blue eyes are deep and full of something. You can see her pupils expanding. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing after graduation?” you simper and hand the bottle back to her. 

She huffs and takes it and ignores your fingers blatantly brushing against hers. “Figured you’ve been drowning in that question.” 

You shrug with a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’d happily answer anything you ask.” 

Agnes shifts again and you bite your lip. There’s a hardness—or at least a semi-hardness—in her pants that’s now pressing into your thigh. 

Her cock. 

The outline has been visible before and it makes your head foggy and your cunt wet. You’re not sure when the last time you came not thinking about it was. 

You push your leg further into her cock and she grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. You can hear people outside talking and you can’t remember if you locked the door. You’re friendly with Agnes in front of others—albeit, not sit-on-her-lap friendly—so it wouldn’t be super damning if someone were to walk in right now, but you don’t want to be interrupted. 

“Did you get me a gift?” you ask teasingly, but there’s no mistaking the heat in your voice. 

Agnes takes a deep breath and she takes a sip of beer before resting the bottle on your thigh. It’s cold and your chest flares. “There’s a card on the gift table. Wrote in it that you shouldn't roll through stop signs.” 

“If it gets you to pull me over again, Agnes, I’d do anything,” you say sweetly and she rolls her eyes fondly. As much as she puts up a front, you know she secretly likes you like this. “But I know something else you can give me.” You wink, just so she knows exactly what you mean, and she scoffs. 

“I’m best friends with your mom and you’re like twenty-five years younger than me,” Agnes points out, as if you can’t feel her erection right now. 

“So?” you breathe, pushing your leg harder against her cock and she presses the bottle harder into your leg with a glare. “Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on. I can feel you.”  

Agnes grits her teeth. The lines on her face are hardened and you want to drag your tongue over them. “You need to go back out to your party, kid. Your parents will be mad.” But her resolve is weakening, you can tell. 

“Please, Agnes?” you say, giving her puppy-dog eyes. She refuses to look at you so you get out of her lap and sink to your knees on the white carpet in front of her. 

Now she does look at you and there’s no denying the heat in her pupils. You put your hands on her knees and drag them up her thighs until your right hand is right below her bulge. 

“Let me give you what you need,” you plead, taking a chance and laying your fingers over her length. She jolts and bites her lip. 

It’s her, in the end, that unbuckles her belt and unzips her pants for you. She doesn’t take them off, just opens them enough for you to eagerly reach into her boxers and wrap your fingers around her. 

She groans quietly when you pull her out and you’re surprised she made it this long without fucking you if this is the reaction you have on her. Her cock is standing tall in the air, rigid and leaking, and blue veins stretch from the base to right under the head. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper and it’s echoed by her when you start slowly moving your hand up and down her length. You collect the liquid beading at the top to reduce the friction and it works because Agnes’s head drops back onto the couch and her eyes flutter shut from just your hand. 

“I shouldn’t fucking want you this bad,” she spits out, almost as if she’s angry at herself for it, and you chuckle sweetly before rubbing your thumb over her tip. Her hips jerk up. “Your mom would kill me.” 

It should be a turnoff, her mentioning your mother, but something about the forbidden nature of this—and Agnes bringing it up as you're stroking her cock—makes your cunt ache even more. 

“What would she say if she knew you fucked her daughter?” you ask and twist your wrist so she can’t answer the question. She clamps a hand over her mouth because if she makes a loud sound, your mom will know. 

“I don’t fucking care right now,” Agnes growls and a thrill runs through you. She’s leaking copious amounts of precum right now and it’s getting all over your hand and the only thing you want to do is taste her. 

She watches your mouth get closer to her cock and her breathing becomes short and shallow like she can’t actually believe what you’re about to do. 

Your tongue darts out to flick the head and Agnes gasps. You smile up at her and then enclose your lips around her before sucking gently. She moans and it’s muffled by her hand as she struggles to keep eye contact. 

Her hand buries into your hair when you start to move further down her cock, always bobbing back up to give yourself a break and some time, and her fingers tighten but never push. She’s being gentle, even though you can feel the restraint in her thighs. 

One of your hands strokes the bottom half of her cock while you mouth at the top part, dragging your tongue filthily over the tip and tasting the salty precum. You moan softly around her and she screws her eyes shut at the vibrations. 

Agnes is having a really hard time staying quiet and you’re loving every second of it. You almost want her to make noise just so you can know how much you’re affecting her, but her cock is twitching and pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, so you have a good idea. 

There’s an ocean between your legs and you’re a bit worried you’ve soaked through your underwear and shorts. Your entire body is humming with energy and you’ve never felt so alive, even when you take Agnes’s cock all the way down and you feel it hitting the back of your throat. You gag and spit flies out of your mouth and gets on your chin and the bottom of her flannel, but she just whimpers lowly and tugs at your hair as encouragement. 

Her hips thrust up, pushing her cock over and over into your mouth, and more precum is dripping onto your tongue, which you rub on the underside of her length. Her legs spasm and she sharply inhales. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” she pants and you chuckle as much as you can with her cock in your mouth, which only makes her whine more. You lose yourself in sucking on her, closing your eyes and getting more enthusiastic with your movements, and you think she’s about to come very soon. 

You open your eyes and look up at her through your hooded lashes and she groans at how you look with her dick in your mouth. The only sounds in the room are her quiet but heavy breathing and your slurping sounds and you wish you were able to hear her falling apart for you properly. 

Maybe next time. 

Your throat is raw but your clit is aching and if you don’t get some relief soon, you’re not sure what will happen. And you have to go back out to your party after this. 

That’s enough for you to pull back with a pop and it takes a moment for the strands connecting your swollen lips to her wet and messy cock to break. You stand up while she watches you, too dazed out with pleasure to ask what you’re doing, and shimmy off your shorts. 

Agnes’s cock lurches forward and spills precum on her shirt when she sees the purple underwear you have on underneath. Can she see how wet they are from there? You can certainly feel it. 

“Do you have—”

She knows what you’re asking for before you finish and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a gold, square packet. 

You smirk. “Do you always come over to my house with a condom or were you just feeling lucky today?” 

Agnes doesn’t answer; she just tears the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls it onto her cock. You ache for her, you long to feel her inside you, so the moment the condom is on, you’re straddling her lap again, only this time, facing her. 

Her tongue pokes between her teeth as she reaches down between you to pull your panties to the side and then position her cock at your entrance. Even the slight pressure brings you pleasure and you can only imagine what she’ll feel like inside you. 

You move down slowly, pausing after the tip slides inside to adjust to the girth—she’s big, bigger than you realized even when you were sucking her off. Her head drops back again and your forehead falls onto her shoulder, your mouth open-breathing against her flannel as you take her in. Your walls stretch to accommodate and it burns in the best way and you whimper when you feel her finally all inside you. There’s a feeling you’ve never felt before in your stomach, almost like you have to pee, because of how deep her cock is. 

“Fuck, Agnes,” you whine into her shirt and her hands grip onto your hips to hold you still. You can feel her pulsing and she’s holding her breath like she’s afraid to let too much out. 

When you pull back, you see her bottom lip is sucked in between her teeth and the vein in her forehead is throbbing. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks. She’s never looked so hot to you right now. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she groans, voice rough as gravel, and it sends tingles down your spine; you unconsciously clench around her. “Your cunt is so tight. So fucking wet.” 

You nod, not able to put how good she’s filling you into words, and you need to start moving. 

Her fingers dig into your hips when you lift yourself back up, putting your hands around her shoulders to stabilize yourself, and you feel her cock drag against every groove inside your pussy. It’s delicious and mind-blowing and this is the best thing you ever could’ve gotten. 

What are your plans for after graduation? 

Agnes. 

Both of your mouths drop open when you start to slide back down her cock and your warm, wet walls are once again wrapped around her. 

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Agnes says sternly, but thrusts her hips up so she hits even deeper inside you and that’s the message you choose to listen to.

She gasps when you grind on her and then swirl your hips around and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you. 

Her nails scrape against your skin and you stop going slow because both of you need this so insanely much right now. You start riding her, fast and hard and determined, and she bucks up to meet you each time. 

It’s getting harder to stay silent and you reach down to tug at her left hand and pull it up and around your throat. Her eyes flash, her breath catches, and her rhythm stutters and you’re worried for a second that you’ve gone too far, but her fingers tighten around you, not too much, but just enough to make your thoughts blur. 

The light pressure makes your gasps more breathy, but they’re definitely quieter and Agnes’s lip starts to bleed from how hard she’s biting it while watching you move up and down. You arch your back on the way up and her hand still on your hip claws at you. 

Your walls are clenching furiously, spasming and convulsing around her, and you can feel her pulsing inside of you, too. 

“Agnes, fuck,” you moan and her fingers on your throat tighten, making your vision swim for a second. It only makes you wetter and you can feel the slickness on your inner thighs from the mess leaking out of you. Her pants are going to be soaked. 

She nods frantically, cheeks a bright red now, and you never break eye contact. It’s strangely intimate, but you know how long both of you have been waiting for this. 

If only she had let you blow her for rolling through the stop sign the first time you met her. It could’ve been two years of her cock inside you. 

But in some ways, the wait just makes it better. 

The pressure in your stomach is building and it’s getting harder to keep moving up and down on her and she’s feeling it too, based on how sloppy her thrusts have become. Your breaths intermingle and your forehead is resting against hers, sweat mixing, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Agnes, I’m going to—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant out and she laughs breathlessly and the hand on your hip moves down and effortlessly finds your clit. You clench around her with a steel grip and you crash your lips against hers without even thinking so you don’t moan loudly. She groans into your mouth and then her tongue is sliding against your tongue and you momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be riding her. 

Her hand tightens around your throat and you keen into her mouth, clenching, and she keeps rubbing your clit and you’re so close, you’re so fucking close—

“Come for me,” she growls and nips at your bottom lip, drives her hips up, squeezes your throat, and presses hard on your clit. 

That’s all it takes and she swallows all of your moans even though a few escape as you fall apart for her, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that someone outside this room at the party—your party—could come barging in and see you coming all over your mom’s best friend’s cock. Your mind goes blank and your vision goes white and for a moment, the only thing that exists is Agnes. 

She hasn’t come yet and she takes her hand away from your throat, letting air finally rush in unrestricted, and paws at your hips with a desperate look in her eyes. 

“Your mouth,” she whispers like she’s hurt and you quickly get off her, the emptiness gaping in your cunt now, and sink to your knees. 

Agnes rips off the condom and her cock is weeping precum and it looks angry and painful with how red it is. 

She grabs your hair preemptively before you envelope her tip with your mouth and hollow out your cheeks. She lets out a strangled groan, both of you apparently past the point of caring if you get caught, and she throbs on your tongue. 

Agnes pumps her cock in hard and fast and you gag but relax your throat so she can use you however she wants. Her face contorts with pleasure; she’s close, you can see and feel it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” she gasps and you nod eagerly, sucking and licking and swallowing around her thick length that’s making your jaw ache. You feel tears gather in your eyes and you’re not sure how you’re going to hide your ruined state from the partygoers. “And you’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you garble around her cock. 

Her hips jerk and the vein in her forehead throbs furiously and then she thrusts up one last time, stiffens, and lets out a slow groan, idly moving her hips while she pumps a load of cum into your mouth. It’s salty and hot and you make a muffled sound as more strands keep shooting out. 

You swallow all of it the best you can and Agnes nods approvingly. You can feel some of it leaking out of the corners of your mouth and you hope that none of it is dripping onto your shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re good,” Agnes says despite herself and you hold her cock in your mouth as she softens and then she slides out, fully limp. The praise settles warmly in your cunt.

She leans forward to wipe off the excess cum and holds out her finger to you. You suck her off it and she bites her lip at the feeling. Her spent cock gives a little twitch and you wonder if you’ll get her back in here before the party is over. 

You’re willing to bet that you will. 

Agnes stands up and you scooch back on your knees to give her some space. She tucks her cock back into her boxers and zips her pants before fixing the buckle. Her booted foot slides your jean shorts back over to you and she holds out a hand. 

You reluctantly take it and she pulls you up. You fix your underwear and then put your shorts back on while evaluating Agnes’s pants. There’s a few wet spots, but someone would have to look closely to see them with how dark the fabric is. 

Agnes looks at you and barks out a laugh. “You look well-fucked.” 

And of course, you smirk. 

When you both rejoin the party, no one notices that you came out of the sitting room together, looking significantly more disheveled than before. Thankfully, there was an incident with the dessert that your mom had to take care of, so she didn’t have the chance to send out a search group for you. 

Agnes crumples her plate up and slips the condom in between the folds and throws it away, all physical evidence of your tryst gone. 

You’re pulled into a group of relatives, who are all so excited for you and can’t wait to hear about what you’re going to do next. 

You feel someone’s eyes on you and you look across the room to find Agnes staring at you. You give her a wicked smirk and she raises her bottle of beer. 

A silent toast. 

It’s going to be a fun summer. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @tobeawriter98 @hapuchika

[forever-rogue]

hii i love the way u write for Joel and was just wondering if i could request something.

so i always see people write joel coming home later then usual after patrol and reader is very worried but i haven’t seen much of it the other way around, like reader is on patrol without joel and joel is all worried and can’t sleep and is just waiting for reader to come home and maybe reader comes back with a few cuts and bruises but nothing to serious but joel is just taking extreme care of her 🥹

AN | Oh, but I love this concept! Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Pacing ain’t going to get you anywhere,” Ellie stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms over her chest as she looked at Joel, “you of all people should know that better than anyone. ‘Sides what are you even worrying about?”

“Ellie,” he sighed her name in that familiar tone that never failed to amuse her. He’d been at the front door, poking his head out and looking around the yard and surrounding area, “why are you still up?”

“It’s only ten o’clock, old man,” she made a show of looking at her watch, one he had gifted her a few years back, “and I’m not ancient. And…I knew you were worried and I can’t sleep if I know you’re worried.”

“I’m not…” he stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with a small smile, “ain’t no use lying to you, is there?”

“Never has been,” she walked over to the couch and flopped on it, leaving ample space for Joel, “and there never will be. I can see right through you. You’re not as brooding and mysterious as people like to think.”

“Well then you should probably know exactly what’s on my mind,” he sat down with a groan next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. The two of them exchanged a quick look, “I can’t not worry about either of you. You’re….you’re my girls and it’s my job to worry. She was supposed to be home this afternoon. She’s late.”

“Don’t you think we worry about you as well?” she nudged his leg and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “we do. You know that. It’s okay to worry…even if there’s no use. They’re probably just running a little bit behind. You know how these things go. It doesn’t inherently mean that anything bad happened.”

“There is always use,” Joel insisted, “even if you don’t want to think there is anything to worry about, there’s always something. You can’t just trust anything outside of our walls.”

“Yeah…well, nothing’s ever happened to your sweetheart so I think it’ll be okay,” she insisted softly. Ellie barely managed to stifle a yawn as Joel raised an eyebrow at her before looking pointedly towards the upstairs. She rolled her head back and groaned, “fine. Fine. Maybe I’m tired. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not gonna stay up all night looking out the door every five minutes?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised. He knew that, logically, everything would be alright but it still didn’t help to quell the lingering worry that was hanging on at the back of his mind, “I’m about to go to bed too. You’re right; ain’t no use with worrying about something I can’t change.”

Joel had had the intention of going up to bed after Ellie, but he'd remained on the couch for a few minutes longer. Soon enough he had changed positions and was fast asleep, snoring away softly, despite his intentions of actually getting up and going to bed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you walked into the house, the sun was starting to rise; you’d planned on being home the afternoon before but you know, life always seemed to have a different plan. You hadn’t planned on getting injured either but here you were; your shoulder was grazed but patched up the rest of your scratches weren’t anything of note. Well - to the average person they wouldn’t be anything to take a double look at but your partner was far from the average person. You were pretty sure he’d have a heart attack, or something close to it when he saw you. 

You opened the door as quietly as possible, slinking into the front room and shutting and locking the door. You’d been sure that Joel and Ellie would be fast asleep but instead you found Joel sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. 

“Oh honey,” you whispered sweetly, careful not to make too much noise to rouse either Joel or Ellie.

A smile graced your face as you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Joel’s frame. He mumbled something softly but didn’t stir otherwise. You tenderly pushed some of his stray curls out of his face, and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your original plan had been to take a quick shower and slip into bed and maybe, kinda, sorta pretend you’d been there for some time, but as soon as you’d seen him on the couch you knew that wasn’t going to be an option. 

Instead of any of your original plans, you yanked your sweater off and tossed it the pile by the door before gently pulling the blanket off Joel’s frame and sliding in next to him. You had just enough room to make it in, and as soon as he felt your body next to his, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame. You made a small sound of content as you settled into him, quickly feeling yourself lulled to sleep. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel hadn’t heard you come home - not entirely anyway. He had been half awake when he’d heard the door open and then felt someone drape the blanket over him. He was pretty sure that he was having some sort of dream so he hadn’t questioned it or bothered to try and fully wake up. 

When he did finally wake up, he was confused by the warm body next to him. Panic was his first instinct but then he quickly realized that it was you. He let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that you were finally home. He put two and two together and realized that what he thought was a dream was actually just you coming home. You hadn’t woken up yet so he gently maneuvered himself out from behind you and made sure you were comfortable before going to gather up your things to put them away. 

But before he managed to walk away he touched your face and almost froze. 

“What happened?” he asked sharply, as he looked over the bruising on the side of your face that led down to your shoulder. He exhaled sharply when he spied the bandage that was covering most of your shoulder. He hadn’t meant to ask so loudly, but it caused you to startle awake.

You blinked away the bleariness that was remaining in your eyes and found Joel looking at you with a worried expression on his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you realized it was him, “hey Joel.”

“Baby,” he sighed softly, crouching down in front of you, “thank god you’re home.”

“Happy to be home,” you whispered, yawning lightly, “sorry it took so long.”

“What happened? Do you have any other injuries?” Joel was ready to rip the blanket off and look you over for himself to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding from him. If anything happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. He’d been through too much in his life and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive another such heartbreak. He knew, he was well aware, that he was spiraling and was trying to control himself but it was hard. But logically, judging from how you were still quietly laying on the couch, he knew that you were more than likely okay and if you had anything more it would be superficial. 

“Just scratches and stuff,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and shifted to sit up. You slowly stretched, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries further and fully aware of Joel’s eyes being locked onto you, “nothing I can’t handle. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Miller.”

“I hope I never get rid of you,” he mumbled as he took your face gently in his hands, appraising you with gentle eyes, “I’m gonna need to keep staying tough, baby.”

“I don’t plan on changing,” your words came out as more of a whisper than anything as you looked at him with sweet eyes and a saccharine smile, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he promised in return, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh, “I just worry.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” you put your hand on top of his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “but what does worrying get you? Nothing except a few more wrinkles and worry lines. It doesn’t change what’s happened or what will happen. I know it’s easier to say than do but promise me you’ll try?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed and you gave him a knowing little smile, “I didn’t say I was going to be perfect. But for you I’ll try anything. You gonna tell me how you got that injury then, darlin’?”

“Joel…it’s fine,” you swallowed thickly, absentmindedly running your hand over the bandaging, “just know it’s all going to be alright.”

“Now what makes you think I would accept that as an answer, huh?” he said back down in front of and offered you an expectant look. You knew that he wouldn’t just accept that answer and you’d been a fool to even try that one on him. Silly girl. The only way Joel Miller would accept such an answer was when he was long cold in the ground and even then it wasn’t a guarantee, “you’re smarter than that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” your voice was small and gentle as Joel nodded. 

“I’d never be mad at you, baby. I just want to know…please.”

You let out a small sigh as you nodded, “well, it turns out that I was a little slow and umm, well, t-there was a clicker and the fucker was a just a little faster than me. A-and it got me so yeah….”

Joel’s mouth dropped as he processed what you said, “I-”

“W-wait, I didn’t - I wasn’t bitten,” you hastily pulled off the bandage to show him as though he needed some kind of proof. You’d never put anyone else in danger and neither would Joel, “just scratched and scraped. See - I-I’m fine.”

“Baby - baby,” he put his hands on your upper arms, doing his best to calm you down, “I’m not worried about you being bitten. I know you wouldn’t…no. But this is….it’s still not great. It looks-”

“Terrible,” you finished for him, fully aware that you would be bearing a nasty scar for some time, “I didn’t want you to panic.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay. I don’t want this to get infected - don’t laugh at that - and lead to something worse,” you hadn’t meant to laugh at his inadvertent comment but you also were tired and felt half delirious from everything that had happened, “but it looks well looked after. You’re just going to have to be careful for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, “you’re not going to let me go on patrol for a while, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he agreed, causing your heart to melt at his sweet tone, “I’ll pull double duty if I have to, but you ain’t going out there. Not right now - I think everyone can understand that. And if you even try, darlin’, you won’t even make it to the stables.”

“I wouldn’t dare to try,” you were absolutely a strong independent woman…but you couldn’t deny the fact that when Joel grew so protective and in charge it did something to you, “can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can we go to bed?” you asked softly, “I just wanna go to sleep and want you to hold me.”

“We can do that,” he slowly rose to his feet and stretched before helping you off the couch, “that sounds great to me. You’re trouble, but I love you.”

“I’m just your kind of trouble,” you offered as he huffed through a laugh, “I love you too, Miller.”

[deansbeer]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ྀི dean winchester x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ྀི he shows up at your door after years away doing god knows what, and suddenly you’re sneaking around behind your brother’s back.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ྀི smut | sneaking around | brother’s best friend trope | unprotected sex (use the damn rubber) | oral sex (f!receiving) | multiple orgasms | possessiveness | risk of getting caught | dirty talk | quiet sex | slight moment of vulnerability.

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ྀི the girlies chose dean, so here he is. this was proofread, but not entirely. i gave up halfway through because i'm exhausted from today. also to my simon girlies, his fic will be posted soon! <3 literally 3.1k words. i’m beat.

divider creds, @haecunt !

you’re elbow-deep in anatomy flashcards when the knock comes at your door. it’s nearly midnight on a thursday, and your brother won’t be home from his shift at the hospital for another three hours. you almost ignore it – probably just drunk college kids at the wrong apartment – but something makes you get up and check the peephole.

your heart stops. dean fucking winchester is standing outside your door, hands shoved in the pockets of that leather jacket you’d recognize anywhere. you haven’t seen him in what, four years? not since that summer before you started college, when he and your brother had some massive falling out that neither of them would explain. one day dean was there, sprawled on your couch playing video games, and the next he was gone. no goodbye, no explanation, just gone.

you open the door before you can think better of it. “dean?” his name comes out as barely a whisper, like saying it too loud might make him disappear again. he looks older, harder somehow. there’s a cut healing on his jaw and his eyes carry weight they didn’t before. but that crooked smile when he sees you? that’s exactly the same.

“hey there, sweetheart.” the nickname hits you like a physical thing.

he’d called you that since you were thirteen and desperately crushing on your older brother’s best friend. back then it was teasing, meant to make you blush and stomp off. now, at twenty-two, it sounds different coming from his lips. deeper. intentional. “gonna let me in, or we doing this reunion right here?”

you step aside wordlessly, brain still trying to process that he’s actually here. He brushes past you, and fuck, he still smells the same – leather and something spicy and fundamentally dean. you close the door and lean against it, needing the support. “what are you doing here?” the question comes out more accusatory than intended. “tt's been four years, dean. four years of nothing, and now you just show up?”

he has the decency to look guilty, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he knew he’d fucked up. “i know. i’m sorry, i just...” he trails off, eyes roaming over you like he's drinking you in. “shit, you grew up.” his words are quiet, almost reverent, and heat floods your face.

“that tends to happen,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re acutely aware that you’re in tiny sleep shorts and an old metallica band tee – his metallica band tee, you realize with embarrassment. one he'd left behind years ago that you’d claimed for pajamas. if he notices, he doesn’t comment, but his eyes definitely linger. “seriously, Dean. why are you here? and don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood. nobody’s just in the neighborhood of san diego.”

he sighs, sinking onto your couch like he belongs there. like the last five years haven’t happened. “was up at stanford,” he admits, and your eyebrows raise. stanford. where his not-so-little brother sam goes. “just... checking on sam. from a distance. kid doesn’t know i was there,” something in his voice breaks a little. “then i figured i was already in california, might as well...”

“might as well drop in on the other family you abandoned?” your words are harsh, but you’re angry. angry at him for leaving, angry at yourself for how fucking happy you are to see him despite everything. “jake’s not here, if that’s who you're looking for. he’s at work."

“i know.” he looks up at you, and those green eyes are intense in a way that makes your stomach flip. “his shift at UCSD Medical doesn’t end until three. figured we could talk without him trying to punch me in the face.” he pauses. “again.”

your brother had punched dean? that explains the sudden disappearance a bit more. you move closer despite yourself, settling on the opposite end of the couch. “what happened between you two? jake never told me.” you pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself smaller. “one day you were here all the time, the next you were just... gone. do you know how worried i was?”

dean’s expression softens. “fuck, i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i really am. some shit went down with my dad, with the family business. things got complicated.” he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled spikes. “jake didn’t approve of some choices i made. said i was throwing my life away, that i was gonna drag sam down with me. we both said shit we couldn’t take back.”

family business. you remember john winchester, how he’d drift in and out of dean’s life, always pulling him away for weeks at a time. how dean would come back with bruises he’d brush off and a darkness in his eyes that would take days to fade. “the family business,” you repeat slowly. “what kind of business has you showing up looking like you’ve been in a bar fight?”

he touches the cut on his jaw absently. “again, it’s complicated,” his standard answer for anything involving his dad. “but i’m handling it. been handling it.” he shifts closer, just slightly, but you notice. “tell me about you. medical school, huh? following in big brother’s footsteps?”

the change of subject is obvious, but you let it slide. for now. “year two at SDSU. it’s kicking my ass, but i love it.” you gesture at the disaster of textbooks and notes on your coffee table. “currently drowning in anatomy and physiology. jake’s been helping when he can, but his residency keeps him pretty busy.”

“proud of you,” dean says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tight. “always knew you’d do something amazing. even when you were thirteen and following us around like a puppy.” the teasing is gentle, familiar, and you find yourself relaxing despite your better judgment.

“i did not follow you around like a puppy,” you protest, but you’re fighting a smile now. “i was just... interested in what you guys were doing. very normal behavior.” he laughs, and the sound warms something inside you that’s been cold for four years.

“sure, sweetheart. all those times you just happened to need something from the garage when we were working on my car? total coincidence.” he’s full-on grinning now, and it’s devastating. you’d forgotten how beautiful he was when he really smiled. “or when you suddenly developed an interest in whatever video game we were playing?”

“shut up,” you mutter, throwing a pillow at him. he catches it easily, reflexes sharp as ever. “i was a kid with a crush. sue me.” the admission slips out before you can stop it, and his expression shifts, becoming something hungrier.

“was?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “past tense?” he sets the pillow aside and moves closer, eliminating the safe distance you’d maintained. “that mean you don’t have a crush anymore, or that you’re not a kid anymore?”

oh god, your heart is racing. this is dangerous territory, especially with your brother due home in a few hours. but dean’s looking at you like he wants to devour you, and you’re now twenty-two years old and tired of pretending you don’t still think about him. “‘m definitely not a kid anymore,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes steadily.

“no,” he agrees, gaze dropping to your lips. “you’re definitely not,” the air between you is charged, electric. you should move away. should remember that this is your brother's best friend – former best friend – and that jake would lose his mind if he knew dean was even here. should remember that dean left once without a word and could do it again.

instead, you lean in. his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

“we shouldn’t,” he says, but he’s leaning in too. “jake would kill me. hell, i promised him i’d stay away from you both.” his thumb traces your bottom lip. “but fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about this. about you.”

“then stop thinking,” you whisper, and close the distance between you. the kiss is nothing like the innocent peck you’d imagined when you were younger. this is fire and demand, four years of absence and want poured into the connection. dean kisses like he does everything else – with complete focus and devastating skill.

his hands tangle in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. you make a noise you’d be embarrassed about under other circumstances, climbing into his lap without breaking contact. “fuck,” he groans against your mouth, hands dropping to your hips. “we can’t— your brother—”

“isn’t home for three more hours,” you finish, rolling your hips experimentally. the friction makes both of you gasp. “unless you’re gonna disappear again the second this is over?” it’s meant to be teasing, but real hurt bleeds through. his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still.

“nah,” he says firmly, pulling back to look at you. “‘m not going anywhere. not this time.” there's something in his eyes that makes you believe him. “might have to be careful around jake, but i’m done staying away. four years was long enough.”

you kiss him again, harder this time, and he responds immediately. his hands slide under your shirt – his shirt – and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. “bedroom,” you gasp when he moves to your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “dean, my bedroom, now.”

he stands easily, lifting you with him like you weigh nothing. you wrap your legs around his waist, attacking his neck with kisses as he navigates to your room. “which one?” he asks, voice rough, and you point to the door on the right. he kicks it closed behind you, pressing you against it immediately.

“gotta be quiet,” he warns, even though you both know the apartment above yours is empty and jake won't be home for hours. “think you can be quiet for me, sweetheart?” his hand slides into your shorts, finding you already wet, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “atta girl. quiet as a mouse while i take you apart.”

that makes you clench around nothing. dean notices, of course he does, and grins against your throat. “you like that, huh? filthy girl,” his fingers tease your entrance, never quite giving you what you need. “you’ve been mine for years, haven’t you? even when i wasn’t here.”

“mhm,” you admit with a hum, past the point of pretending otherwise. “always, dean—please.” he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and you have to bite his shoulder to keep from crying out. he walks you to the bed, laying you down carefully without removing his hand.

“so fuckin’ wet,” he marvels, fingers working you expertly. “this all for me?” you nod frantically, hips moving to meet his thrusts. “words, baby. need to hear you.” his thumb finds your clit, and you’re seeing stars.

“all for you,” you gasp out, struggling to keep your voice down. “only you, dean. please, need more.” he adds a third finger, stretching you perfectly, and you’re already embarrassingly close. “gonna come–” you warn, and he speeds up, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

“c’mon, sweetheart. come for me. wanna see you fall apart on my fingers,” his words push you over the edge, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. you turn your head and bite your pillow to muffle your cry, body arching off the bed. “you’re beautiful,” he breathes, working you through it. “knew you’s be beautiful when you came.”

when you can think again, he’s stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that’s broader than you remember and decorated with scars that definitely weren’t there before. your hands trace them gently, and something vulnerable flashes across his face. “dean, what happened to you?”

“life happened,” he says vaguely, but then he’s kissing you again and you let it go. for now. his hands make quick work of your remaining clothes, and then you’re naked beneath him, feeling exposed and wanting all at once. “wow,” he breathes, eyes raking over you. “you’re perfect, baby. better than i imagined.”

“you imagined?” the thought of dean thinking about you, fantasizing about this, makes a heat pool in your belly again. he grins, that cocky smile that used to make teenage-you weak in the knees. still does, if you’re being honest.

“‘course i did. you think i didn’t notice you growing up? took everything i had to stay away, especially that last summer.” his hand trails down your body, reacquainting himself with territory he's never actually explored. “you were eighteen, wearing those tiny shorts and following me around with those eyes. fuck, sweetheart, i’m not a saint.”

“why didn’t you—” your question dies as he moves down your body, settling between your thighs. “dean, what are you—” his mouth on you cuts off any coherent thought. you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise that escapes, hips bucking up involuntarily.

he pulls back just enough to speak. “dreamed about tasting you. gonna make you come on my tongue, then i’m gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else exists.” he dives back in, tongue working magic that has you seeing stars. it’s too much and not enough, and when he adds fingers to the mix, you have to bite your hand to stay quiet.

your second orgasm builds faster than the first, dean’s name a chanted prayer in your head since you can’t say it out loud. he hums against you, the vibration sending you over the edge with a muffled cry. he works you through it, only pulling away when you push weakly at his head.

“taste even better than i imagined,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. the casual obscenity of it makes you clench. “think you can take me now, baby? need to be inside you.” you nod wordlessly, reaching for him. he sheds his remaining clothes quickly, and your eyes widen at the sight of him.

“that’s... you’re...” he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with, and the smug grin says he knows it. “dean, i don’t know if—” he kisses you quiet, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“you can take it, baby,” he assures you, positioning himself at your entrance. “know you can. gonna go slow, okay? don’t wanna hurt you,” the gentleness in his voice contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. he pushes in slowly, and the stretch is intense, borderline too much. “that’s it, sweetheart. doing s’good for me.”

when he’s finally buried inside you to the hilt, you both need a moment. he’s shaking with the effort of holding still, forehead pressed to yours. “you okay?” he asks, and you give him a meek yeah in response, experimentally rolling your hips. the movement makes both of you groan. “you’re so tight, baby. so fuckin’ perfect.”

he starts moving, slow and deep, and you understand why he made you come twice first. you need the preparation to take him like this. “dean,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “feels so good. so big.” he captures your lips, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace.

“yeah? you like being full of me?” his voice is rough, controlled. “been wanting this for so long. wanting to make you mine.” he hits a particularly good angle, and you have to bite his shoulder again to stay quiet. “the things i wanna do to you. wanna fuck you in every room of this apartment. wanna mark you up so everyone knows you’re taken.”

his possessive words make you clench around him. “yes, fuck, yes,” you agree breathlessly. “i want that. want everyone to know.” his rhythm falters slightly, and he groans deep in his chest. “please. harder.”

he obliges, hooking your leg over his shoulder to go deeper. this new angle has you seeing stars, and you can feel another orgasm building. “there you go, baby,” he encourages. “take it. take everything i give you,” his hand finds your clit, and the combination is devastating. “gonna come for me again? gonna come on my big cock?”

you could only nod, beyond words now. the build-up is intense, full-body, and when it hits, you have to muffle your scream in his shoulder. he fucks you through it, chasing his own release. “where?” he grits out, and you understand what he's asking.

“inside,” you gasp, still shaking from aftershocks. “i’m on the pill. i wanna feel you.” your permission breaks his control. he buries himself deep with a groan of your name, and you feel him pulse inside you. the feeling triggers another mini-orgasm, and you cling to him as you both shake through it.

he collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. you’re both panting, sweaty, completely wrecked. “holy shit,” you breathe, and he chuckles against your neck. “that was...”

“yeah,” he agrees, pressing lazy kisses to whatever skin he can reach. “worth waiting four years for.” he pulls out carefully, and you whimper at the loss. “shh, i got you. not going anywhere, baby.” he reaches for your tiny pajama shorts, using it to clean you both up gently. his tenderness makes your chest tight.

you glance at the clock and reality crashes back in. “shit, jake’ll be home in an hour.” dean follows your gaze and sighs. “dean... what are we doing? he’s going to kill us both if he finds out.”

“then we don't let him find out,” dean says simply, pulling you against his chest. “at least not yet. let me figure out how to fix things with him first.” he strokes your hair, and you melt into the touch. "and i meant what i said – i’m not disappearing again. we’ll figure this out.”

you want to believe him. want to believe that this time is different, that he’ll stay. but you’ve been burned before. “promise?” you ask, hating how small your voice sounds. he tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

“i promise, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” he seals it with a kiss, soft and sweet. “now, how about we get dressed and i help you study anatomy? seems like i’d be a pretty good teaching aid,” his innuendo makes you laugh despite everything.

“you're terrible,” you inform him, but you're already reaching for your underwear and his old metallica band tee. because even if this is complicated, even if your brother might actually murder you both, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

not when dean’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. not when you finally have him here, in your bed, in your life.

Maybe it’s worth the risk.

[undercoveravenger]

Sleep Like the Dead

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Male!Reader

Requested: No

Summary: Everyone on the team thinks Ghost is the worst person to share a bed with. You don’t mind and Ghost finally gets a decent night’s sleep.

-----

No one ever wants to share a bed with Ghost on a mission. It happens every time, at every safe house, so he’s not surprised when Gaz and Soap call dibs on sharing one of the two double beds. They’re both pretty calm sleepers and won’t disturb each other’s rest so it makes sense for them to pair off. Price posts up in the battered recliner mumbling something about being “too old to share.” And that leaves Ghost with you, the 141’s newest addition. You haven’t been on the team long enough to know to find other sleeping arrangements.

You trail him easily into the other bedroom and strip down to your boxers, climbing under the covers without complaint at being stuck with him. He slowly settles beside you, just as tense as he’d been out on the field - adrenaline not quite fizzled out yet. You don’t seem to mind, eyes closing and breathing slowing basically as soon as your head hits the pillow and just like that Ghost is alone with his thoughts.

Despite himself, his mind echoes with the sound of Soap whinging about bruises he’d gotten from Ghost’s less-than-gentle “readjusting” and Gaz’s complaints of his snoring - “What, you running a chainsaw in there, Lieutenant?” “There a thunderstorm in your room last night, Ghost?” There’s a reason Price would rather go for a kip in some ratty old armchair than sleep anywhere near Ghost, even if he never voices why. He knows he’s not an ideal bed partner and he hates it. Hates that he’s exposing you to it - you, who’s never looked at him like he’s weird for keeping his mask on and who’s never seemed to be afraid of him, even the first time you’d met him. You, who’s seen some of the brutal things he’s had to do out on the field and never once judged him for it, who’s done plenty of nightmarish things yourself.

But this is the first negative trait he’s willingly exposed you to and he doesn’t want to see you try to duck him as a bedmate the same way the rest of the team does, especially when he’s starting to suspect that he feels more than camaraderie for you.

You move then, rolling onto your side and hooking an arm round his middle to tug him back against your chest. Ghost’s frozen against you, muscles tight and breath shallow, even as your heart beats steady and slow against his back. He settles slowly, breath evening out to match yours. He’s not used to being… cuddled, let alone being the little spoon, but it’s sort of nice to be held. Like you’ve got his back, even unconsciously. 

He shifts slightly, nudging himself back into your arms further and brings one hand up to curl around yours, settling your joined hands against his chest above his heart. 

Simon’s eyes slip closed somewhere between one breath and the next and he sinks into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years.

-----

Everyone’s looking at him strangely when they all gather in the morning to prepare for evac and he’s not sure why. He can only take so long of Price’s concerned stare and Soap and Gaz whispering around furtive glances before he snaps.

“What,” he says, and that seems to be all the permission Soap needs to sidle closer, studying him intently. “Got somethin’ to say?” Ghost challenges, arms crossing over his chest. “Say it.”

Soap hesitates only a moment before he says anything, fingers tapping rapidly against his thigh like he’s nervous. “Did you, ah, did you sleep last night, LT? Like, at all?”

Ghost blinks. Blinks again. It’s not the weirdest question Soap’s ever asked him, not by a longshot, but it feels strangely pointed and he’s not sure why. “Slept fine. Why?”

Gaz cocks his head, dark eyes puzzled as they dart between Ghost and the door to the bedroom that he’d shared with you. “Did he?”

Ghost is saved from answering by you making your way out into the living room with the rest of them, go bag already packed and ready. You’re shifting your weight up onto the balls of your feet like you’re ready to take in a run, like you’re itching to move. Your eyes are bright, not a hint of sleeplessness to be seen about you.

“Maybe they tuckered each other out?” Soap suggests, eyebrows waggling suggestively as he looks between you and Ghost. “Surprised they were able to keep that quiet-”

“Shut it,” Ghost growls, trying to keep the teasing from letting you on to the feelings he’s finally admitted to himself. “We both slept fine. What’s all the fuss about?”

Price claps a hand over Soap’s mouth before he can make another raunchy comment, interjecting himself to help move the conversation along. “Just glad to hear that you were finally able to get a good night’s sleep, Ghost. Seemed to us you hadn’t slept well the last few ops.” His eyes slip to you and back quickly, lingering just enough that he knows that Price knows. “Seems whatever change you’ve made to your nightly routine might be a good one to keep up. Maybe try to make it a regular thing?”

Ghost wants to argue. To protest that sleeping in your arms wouldn’t have changed anything for him, especially not enough for his team to notice, but he knows Price is right. Knows that it’s having you with him that’s finally allowed him to rest. That you make him feel safe, as crazy as he feels admitting it. He’s not ready to really do anything about whatever it means quite yet, but he knows that he’ll be seeking you out to share a bed again on the next op. And maybe, if that goes well, inviting you back to his flat in Manchester while the team’s on leave to see if the effect you have on him goes both ways.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Lap Mishap 🎄 (Toji x F!Reader x Gojo 18+ One Shot)

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Pairing: Mall Santa!Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader x Mall Elf!Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: In which an innocent situation turns into something a lot more complicated (and sloppier) when you accidentally give the two coworkers that you despise raging boners while working as a mall elf for the holiday season. Fortunately for you, they have a way you can make it up to them and save all of their jobs.

Tags: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GTFO), Younger Woman/Older Men, College Student!Reader x DILF!Toji (Late 30s-Early 40s) x College Student!Gojo (Early 20s), Accidental Boner, Groping, Lap-Sitting, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Dubcon/R*pe, Threesome, Deepthroat, Spit Play, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Facefuck, Objectification, Slutification, Degradation/Praise, Mild Daddy Kink, Bathroom Sex, Cum Play, Throatpies, No PIV

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I finished this nasty ass one shot just NOW after my new job because I couldn’t wait till this weekend to do it. I haven’t written something this lewd in a hot min tee hee 🤭 I hope y’all enjoy!! -Jazz 🥰🥰

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“Well, don’t you look adorable.”

You glower at the smug and unfortunately attractive older man sitting at the table in the employee’s lounge with a mug of coffee decorated with running Christmas reindeer. “Don’t, Toji,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your ample bosom. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

Toji, the sexy, smug older man in question, sniggers into his coffee. “Well, shit, sourpuss,” he replies in his deep, bare toned voice that sends unwanted shivers down our spine. “I was just givin’ you a compliment. C’mon, you know you look cute!”

‘Cute’ isn’t at all what you’d call your elf outfit for your unwanted shift at your crummy seasonal job at the mall.

You would first call it ‘stupid’ because of the pointed green hat and boots you’re forced to wear with the jingling bells attached so you always make noise when you walk.

The second thing you’d call it is ‘slutty’. The red vest hugs your ample tits which you’ve been blessed and cursed with by the lineage of women in your family, the push-up bra making your girls way more noticeable.

The green skater skirt is way too short and you have to be very careful bending anywhere in fear of flashing someone your panties.

And you won’t even mention the red and white striped thigh-high socks and gloves. You feel like a stripper about to make her grand debut at the North Pole dancing in Santa’s workshop!

There is no way the costume designers didn’t know what the fuck they were doing here. You had to rush down the hallway after changing in the locker room to avoid being seen by your fellow overworked and underpaid seasonal employees and mall workers.

You had originally decided to work retail this season to save up on money for Christmas gifts and next year’s tuition. You’re a college student, so your stress levels are at about 100 with winter finals, buying gifts, and still keeping enough sanity to celebrate the holidays on winter break.

You’ve been working retail shifts at Bath & Body Works since September to get a head start on saving plus doing office work for your manager and taking some shifts as a greeter at City Winery aka the only decent restaurant at your local mall.

You thought your time here couldn’t get any worse than customers complaining about discontinued body washes and screaming kids, but you were wrong. When your manager picked you to be the mall elf for the mall Santa shifts this month, you thought you died and descended into Hell.

The only saving graces are that it is only for one month, you get extra pay, and you only have to work four hours throughout the day in this stupid costume. You thought you would have time to relax until the first shift in the privacy of the employee’s lounge, but clearly not.

Of course, you’re forced to share the space with a coworker you can’t stand. “What are you even doing in here?” you ask, scowling at Toji. “Don’t the security guards have their own lounge?”

“Eh,” Toji says, shrugging. “Too many people smoke in there. Plus, you guys got the best mugs.” He raises his mug at you and raises his brows once, smirking at you with that sinful, scarred mouth. “Plus, I need to relax before my shift.”

You sigh, carefully walking into the lounge and taking your Starbucks Frappuccino out of the fridge despite Toji’s presence making you feel nervous enough to fog up your glasses.

Toji Fushiguro is the hot DILF security guard that works full time at the mall to support his son as a single dad. You’ve been working the same shifts as him since September, always earning unwanted attention from him when he opens the doors for you when you arrive and leave your mall shifts.

It is no secret that you strongly dislike the man. He is cocky, pompous, arrogant, and always smells faintly of cigarettes. He is also extremely sexy, standing at six-foot something with defined muscles and arms that could wrestle a bear. You can see why he was hired as a security guard.

He is also a huge slut according to the stories you’ve heard. The man has HUGE community dick (and a huge dick, apparently). He knows he is attractive and knows how to get what he wants from women. But not you, even though he has tried. You wave off his compliments, uninterested in spending any kind of time with him. He is a whore and nothing more.

But Toji isn’t the only coworker at this mall that you detest. “Hey, Fushiiii,” the familiar, silky voice of your fellow college student mockingly sings from the door. Toji begins to laugh, nearly coughing into his coffee. “Damn, Gojo, you look ridiculous!” he guffaws.

You turn from the fridge and you wish you didn’t. Of course, Gojo Satoru is dressed in his own elf costume.

The tall, beefy, six foot-something college athlete and smarty-pants looks less ridiculous than you do despite the silliness of the outfit. His white locks peek out from under his pointed hat and his red socks are stretched tight over his strong calves.

You hide your laughter, refusing to even crack a smile around the guy. Unfortunately, you’re familiar with Satoru. He isn’t quite a friend or really an enemy either…not even an acquaintance. He is more of a colleague who goes to the same school as you and you’ve had many courses with despite you being a junior and him being a senior.

He is also incredibly intelligent, the star basketball player on your uni’s team, just as cocky as Toji, and incredibly good-looking. You’ve had many thoughts of his plump, pink lips and Colgate smile when you should be studying.

Satoru is more than convinced that you two are friends who sometimes flirt. When he sees you, his blue eyes are all aglow. “Ooooh, don’t you look so cute!” he coos.

“Oh, please, don’t start,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “I already had to hear that from him.” You nod at the security guard sitting spread eagle at the table. “But it’s true, ain’t it?” Toji sniggers. “You’re gonna get a whole lot of attraction with this little get-up.”

He reaches out and flicks one of the tiny bells attached to your belt. ��Cut it out!” you hiss, slapping his hand away. Your skin grow hot with frustration and embarrassment.

“Oooh, she’s feisty,” Satoru chuckles. “Hang on, I need to get a picture. This is just too good.” He slides his phone out of his pocket, but you duck behind a nearby chair.

“Don’t,” you growl. “Take a picture of yourself. I’m sure your boys on your team would love to see your new get-up.”

Satoru laughs, coming into the kitchen, ducking under the door to avoid hitting his head because he’s so goddamn tall. “I already did and I still look good,” he replies. “How much you wanna bet I’ll snag a single MILF with this fit?”

He gives you a wink while Toji laughs, eyes still on you. Anyone else would feel rather intimidated being in a room with two broad, tall, hot dudes, but it is as if you have no inkling that these two are even remotely attracted to you.

A little self-deprecating of you, but you’re an extreme nerd. Not only are you rocking glasses that make your eyes explode to the capacity of the frames, you always have your nose stuck in a book or a study guide. You don’t get involved in dating on campus or who is fucking who.

While it would be nice to find someone nice to call a boyfriend, you know that men are too involved with less-nerdy girls to even try to talk to you, and you prefer it that way…at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“You wish,” you scoff at Satoru as he passes you to grab a bottle of water. As he does, his hip bumps yourself, making you feel as if you’ve just been burned.

“She’s gotchu there, Gojo,” Toji chuckles. “Not when my sexy ass is gonna be wearin’ this Santa outfit.”

“Wait, what?” You turn to stare at the security guard, mouth open in shock. “You’re playing the mall Santa this year?”

Toji nods and smirks at your reaction, moving his legs from under the table to reveal his leather boots and red pants with furry, white trim along the ankles and belt. His black tee is tight against his toned, impressive upper torso, outlining each ridge of his pecs and abs.

“That’s correct, my dear elf,” he teasingly answers, making Satoru snigger. “You’re about to be workin’ for me in the next few minutes and for the rest of the month.”

“And workin’ with me,” Satoru adds, his pink lips curled into a teasing smile that boils your blood. “Your favorite project partner and classmate.” He, too, plays with the bell on your belt, making you swat his hand away.

This couldn’t be any worse! The last thing you want is to spend the next month with these two assholes. You desperately want to hit your manager up and tell her to switch you with someone else, but you know that no one else is willing to be the mall elf this year.

So with a heavy heart, you finish your few minutes of privacy with your Frappuccino in the locker room before you’re forced to stand alongside Satoru the Mall Elf while Toji gets settled in his fake armchair among the gaudy Christmas setup for Santa Claus. Toji sits in the whole Santa getup, beard to cover his cleanly-shaven face and all. His legs are spread eagle and you have to avoid looking at him so you won’t be staring at his crotch.

Two more mall elves, high schoolers Yuji Itadori and Kugisaki Nobara, help round up the kids in line and chat with the parents (or argue with them, courtesy of Nobara) while Satoru announces to the kids how to conduct themselves around Toji Claus. “Aaaaalright, boys and girls!” he bellows, his voice echoing among the dozens of rosy-faced little munchkins. “Are y’all ready to meet Santa Claus?!”

“Yeeeeeah!” the kids cheer, overexcited and overjoyed to sit in a grown man’s lap, telling him what they want for Christmas, and get some photos snapped.

You smile a bit. You’ll admit that Satoru is good with kids being the yapper he is. “Now just as a reminder to you fine folks: no shoving, hitting, yelling or spitting. There is plenty of Santa to go around. When you finally come up here with me and this other fine elf here…”

He motions a hand to you and gives you a wink that you nearly miss. You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flips. “…you sit in Santa’s lap and nicely tell him what you’d like for Christmas,” he finishes. “You guys got it?” While some nod in understanding, others look lost. “I think they need a demonstration, Satoru!” Itadori calls while Nobara snorts.

Satoru wickedly grins at Toji, but the mall Santa isn’t having that. “Nah,” he deadpans behind his fake beard. “You’re too tall to be a kid…but she’s not.” He points at you with one gloved hand, smirking. “You ready to be a model student, college girl?” he whispers.

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath. There is no way he can be serious about this! “Our dear elf Y/N, Santa’s favorite elf at the North Pole, is about to demonstrate for you guys what to do,” Satoru announces, struggling hard to fight his laughter.

Toji pats his lap, his smile almost obscene. “Come, little girl: sit on Da—, I mean Santa’s lap.”

You simmer hot with anger and frustration, not just for him but for Satoru who even thought to encourage this. But with the kids and parents all looking at you, you have no choice.

Swallowing your pride and not-so-nice words, you smooth your skirt over your ass and take a tentative seat in Toji’s warm, muscular lap. You sit rigidly, your hands stiffly in your lap and shoulders tense.

Toji places a hand on the arm of his chair, right next to your elbow. “Now what would you like for Christmas, hm?” he asks. “A Barbie? A puppy? Maybe a sense of humor?”

You turn to him, your jaw thigh. “I hate you,” you mouth.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you too well, little girl,” he replies, tapping his ear. “Santa’s hearin’ ain’t too good. Can you speak up for me?” His eyes glow with humor and mirth, finding enjoyment in your suffering.

You fix a smile onto your face and look straight at the happy-faced kids. “A Barbie please, Santa,” you chirp, your voice fake and cheery. Suddenly, a big, gloved hand snakes around your waist, holding you firmly onto his lap. You gape at him, alarmed. “W-What are you—“

“And what else, little girl?” he interrupts, his voice growing lower. More seductive. “Go on, tell ol’ Santa what else you’d like under your tree.” His grip tightens a bit, not enough to hurt you but just enough to be possessive of you. You stare at him, completely speechless.

“Oh, oh, I want a kitty cat!” a little girl yells from the line of kids. Her bold statement causes the other kids to begin screaming out what they want. The commotion distracts the adults enough for you to deal with Toji. “What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss. “Let go of me!”

You try to stand up, but Toji tightens his arm and snatches you back down, his fingers nearly digging into your thigh as your skirt rides up an inch. “Ah-ah, don’t move around too much, doll,” he whispers, his voice like smooth whiskey. “You’ll cause somethin’ that you didn’t intend to do…or maybe you did.”

As you see his eyes grow hooded, you feel your stomach fluttering with frantic butterflies…as well as something else. Something you feel growing underneath you. When you accidentally shift in Toji’s lap, he quietly groans behind his fake beard, muffling the noise, but you hear it.

You also feel the very obvious, hard, swelling, throbbing bulge growing underneath your ass. “Oh, my God,”you gasp, looking behind you. “Y-You’re…you’re ha—“

“Sorry,” he apologizes though he doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. “But can ya blame me? I’m a guy, after all.”

You gape at him, your face ablaze, unsure of what to do or how to feel. Should you feel flattered? Disgusted? Embarrassed? With the way his hand is still securely wrapped around you, you aren’t sure anymore. “Y-You can’t—“

“What?” Toji chuckles, his laughter soft yet seductive. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoyin’ this or like you haven’t been eye-fucking me since we met.” His gray eyes slide over to the tall, white-haired elf currently chatting up a married couple. “Not just me but the basketball star too.”

You are unable to talk despite your desire to protest. But he’d know you weren’t telling the truth.

Toji pulls his beard down to show off his plump, kissable lips and you have the sudden urge to kiss his scar. “Lucky for you, babes, I’ve got a thing for chicks with glasses.” He smiles up at you, the act somehow making him more handsome and more irritating.

His grip loosens and you finally shoot out of his lap as if your ass is on fire. Speaking of ass, the damn thing is nearly out because of how your skirt has ridden up past your red stockings.

“Alright, boys and girls!” Satoru yells. “Time for…” He turns around, just in time to get a flash of your red panties and how soft and suckable your thighs look in your stockings. ”Fuck,” he says under his breath, gaping at you and envisioning some very nasty things.

“Time for some photos!” Itadori calls. “Everybody line up, one at a time to meet Santa!”

Satoru is too distracted by your soft thighs and the flash of your red panties to pay any attention to his job. You notice his eyes and quickly pull your skirt down as low as it can go….which isn’t very low.

“I’m shocked you ain’t feelin’ a draft,” Toji whispers. “Careful, doll. You might flash the kiddos.” You glare, but not at him. You don’t look anywhere at him. “I could tell you the same thing, jackass,” you hiss. “Don’t look at me.”

But you can still feel his glaring, hot gaze on you, as well as Satoru’s. Nobara has to kick him in the ankle to snap him out of it. “Uh, Gojo?” she whispers. “Helloooo? The camera for the pictures?”

Blushing as red as Toji’s uniform, Satoru quickly fumbles with the camera as the first little boy comes up to Toji, smiling big and bright for the mall Santa. You stand off to the side, discreetly pulling at your skirt and wishing to melt into the floor.

After an hour of standing there pretending not to be aroused by the idea of Toji’s cock, you’re finally given a 30-minute break for lunch. You quickly make a beeline for the security guards’ break room located at the back of the mall, knowing that most of them are posted outside or on duty on different floors.

The breakroom is luckily empty, but you can barely eat most of your lunch except for a bag of chips and gulp down some water. You can’t even relax. Mostly because of the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You whimper, shifting your body in the chair closest to the private locker room and bathroom. You have felt like this for over an hour, doing your best to ignore the tingling between your thighs as you assisted each kid.

But now as you sit in the privacy and darkness of the break room, you can’t ignore the uncomfortable wetness of your panties anymore…or how depraved you are getting horny over Toji’s cock. You know you can’t go on like this, not when you need to work.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you mutter to yourself. But you leave your post anyway and quickly hide in the empty locker room where you proceed to shut the door and sit on the bench farthest away from it.

Quickly, you reach under your skirt and slip your panties down to your thighs. “Ah,” you gasp as the warm air hits your bare, sodden wet pussy. You are a mess. How could the idea of Toji getting a stupid boner arouse you so?

When you close your eyes, the images get worse. You see the sexy, smirking security guard peeling down his Santa pants to reveal his fat, throbbing, veiny cock just curved enough to help you imagine what it would stroke inside of you.

As you take two fingers and begin to slowly rub your needy clit, you see yourself wrapping your lips around the thick cock in front of you as your hand wraps around his shaft. You can almost taste him, feel his warm balls against your chin.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper, your voice quivering as your fingers grow slippery. Your slick trickles down your slit as you frantically play with yourself, hearing Toji’s low moans in your head as he sinks into your throat.

You can feel yourself growing closer, your pussy oozing more and more slick just as Toji begins to fuck your face as he grabs the back of your head, pulling your hair. Your breath comes out in short pants that sound louder in the empty locker room as the knot in your core grows tighter. “T-T-To—“

The door suddenly opens and there the mall Santa stands. He looks shocked to see you at first, but then his face turns into one of pure smugness. “Now what do we have here?” he mockingly asks. “A very naughty fuckin’ girl.”

You nearly scream, quickly closing your legs and covering yourself. “Fuck!” you gasp. “What the fuck are doing in here?!”

Toji leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beefy chest. He has ditched the Santa jacket for his black tee, but kept the pants and boots. “Came in for a break since all the guards are on shift, but I see you decided to do the same thing.”

You flush hot with humiliation, your heart pummeling in your chest. “T-This isn’t what it looks like,” you weakly say. Toji cocks his head to the side. “Really? ‘Cause it looks and sounded like you were just rubbin’ that little pussy to the thought of me before your next shift.”

His lips curl into a knowing smile. “So the earlier situation got to you too. Lucky for you, babydoll, I’m still not over it either.”

His big hand grips his hard-on chubbing against his red pants, captivating you.

Then…zzzzzip. His fly comes down, his belt comes off, and suddenly, his cock is out and slapping against his toned stomach and happy trail. It is as thick, veiny, and curved as you envisioned in your fantasy. Your eyes grow wide at the sight like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, you can’t move.

“I’m still very much on the hard side,” he breathlessly states, his eyes hooded with lust. “And since this is your fault, I think you need to take responsibility for it.” He flashes his teeth at you in a grin, wrapping a hand around his hard cock. “Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

You watch him jerk his dick in front of you, your pussy clenching around air at the lewd sight. Suddenly, he stops and walks up to you, his boots thudding across the floor. He looms over you, a wolfish grin on his face, and you lean back as far as you can against the lockers like a trapped animal. “C’mon, you can be a good little helper for Santa and help me out, right?”

You don’t know whether to say yes or tell him to go fuck himself. You know you should go for the second option. After all, he’s being a pervert and using earlier as an excuse.

But somehow, all common knowledge, logic, and ethics go out the window when you suddenly find yourself dragged into a bathroom stall and kneeling on the tiled floor with Toji’s cock in your mouth. His big hand intertwines in your hair, his thick, calloused fingers gripping each strand to push and pull you onto his cock.

“You’re doin’ so good so far, babydoll,” he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. “Keep it up for me, ‘kay? You’ve got about twenty minutes left to make Santa cum.”

His groans and grunts are quiet yet delicious, heard by your ears only in the empty bathroom stall as your cheeks hollow around his cock. He is bigger and thicker than you anticipated, leaving your jaw aching trying to accommodate him as you suck him off. Saliva drips down from your mouth down your chin, threatening to stain your top.

As if thinking the same thing, Toji rips your top down, exposing your tits to him. “Fuck, look at how sexy you are,” he groans, watching the way your chest jiggles and sways as your throat expands and flexes around him. “Such a good little slut for me. Swore you didn’t want me, but now look at you.”

He forces your chin up to look at him, your watery eyes and crooked glasses staring up into his devious, salacious gaze. “Betcha you always wanted to do this,” he chuckles. “Betcha you played hard to get just to drive me fuckin’ crazy like the little cock whore you are.”

He wipes some spit away from your lips before he pushes himself in deeper, nearly making you choke. You pull yourself away far enough to cough and catch your breath. “T-Toji, wait,” you gasp. “You’re too deep!”

He ignores you, forcing your mouth open and plunging himself back between your plush, wet lips to sink into your sloppy, velvety throat. “But you can take me, baby,” he pants. “Oooh, I know you can. Sluts like you feen for nasty shit like this.”

He begins to fuck your face, emitting squelching sounds from his wet cock constantly plunging into your throat as you gag around him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he moans in delight. “That’s what I like to hear. You just keep bein’ a good girl for me, baby.”

Your throat continues to make the most obscene, wet, and lewd sounds, the squelching and gagging possibly drifting throughout the bathroom and locker room rafters. The more Toji rails your face and plunges his cock into your throat, the louder the sounds become. His grunts and moans also grow louder, bouncing off of the tiled walls.

You can tell he is close from the way he grabs the back of your head, forcing your face closer until his balls are flush against your chin. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum!” he groans, his muscular, naked thighs tense as he fucks your mouth like he is trying to hit a home run. “C’mon, doll, take Daddy’s fuckin’ load.” He pauses, chuckling. “I mean take Santa’s load. You want a white Christmas, don’tcha?”

You can’t even answer. You can’t warn him either when the door to the bathroom suddenly opens just as Toji’s loud, guttural groan of release escapes his mouth. As the bathroom stall flies open, a load of Toji’s warm spunk floods your throat, filling your mouth to capacity. There is so much that it spills out of the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck!” he moans, soft high-pitched hums leaving his lips as he slides his cock out of your mouth and pumps the rest of his cum onto your glasses. Droplets of spunk fly onto the lenses, fogging them up.

You can’t be more horrified by anything else when you turn and find Satoru standing there in his elf costume. He looks shocked to see you kneeling there before Toji with cum all over your mouth, glasses, and some on your tits with your pussy openly gushing through your panties on the floor. But once the shock subsides, a Cheshire Cat-like smile appears on his lips. “Oops,” he chuckles. “Guess I’m in the wrong bathroom.”

Toji laughs, sounding like a straight-up villain. “Nah, you’re in the right place. You’ve still got time left if ya wanna use it on her.” Satoru shuts the bathroom stall and you realize just how big it exactly is. Big enough for three people. “Shit,” he scoffs, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What else am I here for?”

Both men look down upon you like you’re no more than a dessert plate for consumption. Despite the ridiculous costumes, the duo remind you of villains. “Sorry to shock you, cutie, but he ain’t the only one you’ve got rock.” Satoru palms his hard cock pushing against his green pants. “I’ve been thinkin’ about those lips and these panties for hours.”

He kneels and forces you into a face-down, ass-up position, making you squeak in surprise. You have to cushion your cheek with your hands to avoid the nasty floor. When one of Satoru’s fingers slides against your pantyline, you gasp. “Oh! And she’s wet!” He tuts at you, giving your ass a harsh spank and groaning at the recoil. “Naughty little elf. What would Santa say?”

He takes your panties by the waistband and tugs them tight against your wet pussy, making you whimper at the friction. Toji chuckles, giving your ass his own harsh spank. “Santa’s says this little whore needs to be punished,” he whispers and it’s almost threatening to your ears.

And punish you, they do…in their own wicked, lewd, torturous way. Suddenly, you find yourself sitting on the toilet seat with your legs while Toji kneels between your thighs, slurping and licking away at your cunt while his thick finger fucks your hole. Satoru stands to your left, rutting his hips into your mouth, his long dick plunging in and out of your throat.

“Fuck, your mouth is so wet, honey,” he moans, palming one of your tits. “Shit, Toji, how much did you cum in here?” His handsome face is flushed and his blue eyes are desperate as he does his best to quiet his whimpers and whines over your sloppy throat.

Toji chuckles, his tongue piercing tickling your clit as he flicks the tip of his tongue against it, sending shocks of sensitivity and tingles of pleasure throughout your body. “Enough to make her throat slick enough to fuck.” Your pussy clenches around his finger, your velvety, slick walls tightening around his digit.

The older man looks up at you, smirking into your desperate, needy eyes. “Oooh, I tasted that gush. You like the sound of another throatpie for that slutty mouth, babydoll?” He dives back into your pussy, his tongue sloshing and slashing about, probing an answer out of you. “Mmm-hmph-mmm!” you whine around Satoru’s cock, your screams muffled by his constant fucking.

Toji chortles into your pussy, pulling away to regard Satoru with your slick all over his lips. “That’s a yes,” he chuckles. Satoru blushes, overcome with lust as he watches his long cock disappear between your soft, juicy lips. “F-Fuck, I hope so,” he whines, cupping your cheek. “Goddamn, cutie, you’re fucking mouth is….”

His words die into desperate moans as he continues to ram your throat like he’s trying hard to fill it with his babies. Your nostrils are full of the scent of his body wash and cologne, somehow acting as aphrodisiacs for you. “You sound even sluttier than her,” Toji chuckles. “I think she likes it though. Look at this sexy little bitch.”

Under their hot gazes, you feel like the slut they see: titties out, pussy exposed, and getting used in a bathroom stall. Satoru takes his cock out to lightly tap your tongue. “You like gettin’ this mouth fucked at work, slutty girl?” he teases.

Before you can even think of a reply, Toji hooks his finger up in a way that makes your eyes roll back. “O-Oh, fuck!” you moan, louder than you should’ve. Satoru quickly plugs your mouth back up with his cock, plunging deeper and deeper, making you take every inch. “Mmm, that’s a pretty face, cutie. Keep lookin’ at me like that.”

His blue eyes kick on yours, reminding you of oceans in the far-away Caribbean Islands, while he slips his cock out of your mouth. He grips your chin and whispers a fierce “C’mere” before his lips are slamming against yours.

As you kiss, Toji’s tongue moves faster, his moans traveling up to your core and sending vibrations through your clit. Satoru pulls away and spits in your mouth, the act so quick and surprising that you nearly miss it.

“Spit it back on my cock,” he demands and you do, making his cock shiny with your spit before he slides back in. After a few more sloppy thrusts that cause your glasses to wobble and spit to drip down your chest, he’s close. “Shit!” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me, m’gonna cum! You’re gonna…fuck, baby!”

You are too. You can feel your pussy tightening, clenching, throbbing with the urge to release. “Mmmm!” you whine around his cock, your thighs trembling around Toji’s neck.

The security guard intensely stares at you, forcing you to cum with that damn finger crooked inside of you. “Give it to me,” he demands. “You know you fuckin’ want to. Go ‘head, babydoll.”

You can’t help yourself. You hush all around Toji’s cock just as Satoru loses the last thread of self control and cums deep in your mouth with a long, loud moan that no doubt attracts unwanted attention from the outside.

Another fat, creamy throatpie fills your mouth and streams down your throat, nearly making you choke. Satoru luckily pulls out, but only to jerk the last drops of spunk onto your tits and glasses, staining your skirt and top in the process.

As the last tendrils of pleasure course through you, Toji slurps you up and leaves your pussy twitching from his ministrations. As he sits back to sigh, Satoru releases a huff, exhausted but satisfied. “Oh, fuck,” he groans followed by a whistle. “That was amazing! Definitely needed for a shitty shift.”

Toji nods, his lips coated in you. “I concur,” he hums in pleasure. He leans up to get eye level with you and holds your chin in his hand. “C’mere, doll…taste yourself. This slutty pussy is just too good to not share.”

He smashes his lips against yours, pulling you in for a sloppy French kiss that steals your breath away. Jealous, Satoru yanks you away towards him.

“Save some for me,” he murmurs before he leans in to kiss you, softly moshing as he does. He then pulls away, kneels, and slurps the rest of you off of your open thighs despite your whimpers of agony. It hurts too good.

Ring-ring-ring!

You jump at the sudden sound. Satoru reaches into his back pocket to get his phone. “Uh-oh!” he mockingly announces. “That’s the timer. Break time is over.”

Toji begins to get dressed, zipping up his fly and tucking in his shirt. “We should probably clean her up. Poor baby looks like she can’t even walk.” He laughs at your expense, humored by your fucked-out, messy state.

Despite them both using your holes just now, the two dress and clean you up as much as possible. They pull your skirt down, fix your top, clean off your glasses, and smooth down your skirt.

Once finished, Toji passes you a napkin out of his pocket. “Wipe your mouth, babydoll,” he sniggers. “You don’t want people to ask what’s on your face…or glasses. Shit, we did a number on ya.”

He plants a sloppy, wet tongue kiss on your mouth, filling your tongue with the taste of your pussy and himself. “This was a lot of fun, sugar,” he says with a smirk. “Call me again if you need a worthwhile break, alright?”

You wordlessly stare at him, unable to form words…or even think them.

“Same here,” Satoru adds, flashing you a smile as he fixes his costume. “I’ll know who to go to for my little ‘problem’ next time.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before he and Toji head out of the stall back to work.

But Satoru stops and turns back to you, smirking. “Oh, and…”

He bends down and snatches up your red panties, tugging on the waistband with his teeth before stuffing them in his pocket.

“These are mine.”

He gives you a wink and blows you a kiss. “See ya out there!” he hollers before he disappears out of the bathroom with Toji, leaving you alone with your thoughts and regrets. But also supremely satisfied.

In the end, you’re late back to your shift.

THE END.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅*

Pairing: Vamp!Bangchan x Vamp!Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Blood/Biting/Blood Drinking (Duh), Slight Mention of cheating/K!lling, Arranged Marriage, people Watching the deed, Oral (Both), Choking, Hair Pulling, Squirting, Multiple Rounds/Orgasms. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings! (I’m sure I missed a few this time)

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this cause I had so much fun doing this. This scratched an itch for me fr.

-🧛🏻

He was irritating. The “prince” you had been married off to. He was so full of himself not to mention feared by many. However you saw right through him. You saw the little things that made him crumble. His biggest weakness? You. He wouldn’t admit it but you drove him crazy.

Remembering when he accidentally walked into the bathroom after you had showered. You were completely naked quickly covering yourself up when he had come in. His jaw was on the floor, he stood there for a good minute or two before you yelled at him to get out. He quickly did, running to another bathroom to quickly help himself. He leaned back on the bathroom wall cock in hand as you ran through his mind. The best nut he had, had in a long time.

Both of you being vampires meant you’ve been alive for a while. Although with that being said you’ve never really dated much. You had your fun of course but most of them were quickly made into meals afterwards. Sucking them dry in more ways than one. Chan on the other hand got around a lot. Especially the first hundred years. However he found himself in love for the first time. A beautiful girl who he met at a coffee shop. He didn’t expect to fall in love but he did. He did hard.

Sadly he found the love of his life tangled in bed their own bed one faithful night shattering his heart. The girl told him “you were fun but I have an eternity to live, why would I spend it with one person?” He was broken. He spent days by himself locked away hating the world. Going out at night to feed, he fed even when he wasn’t hungry. The sadness washing away to be replaced with anger. He killed not even wanting to feed, killing to kill.

A decade down the line he was finally getting better. He got his spark back but he never wanted to be in love again. Only going for hookups if he had the need. When the court had come forward asking him to get married he was fully against it. After chipping away at him over the years he finally said yes.

Chan was cold towards you at first, wanting to keep a distance which you were honestly fine with. The whole arranged marriage thing wasn’t something you wanted either however it was best for your own “coven”. It helped spread the boards of your own hunting grounds and broadened the masses together.

The house you were sharing now was massive. Plenty of places to go to be alone but somehow you both found yourself in each other company. You gradually started talking more. Figuring out what you both needed for the members of your covens. Talking about the wedding plans as well.

—

Today was the day of the wedding, it went off well. As you walked down to Chan you noticed him almost getting choked up. He was looking at you in a different way, a way you haven’t seen.

He stuttered over his words as you said your “vows”. His eyes not being able to look anywhere else but you. You swear you could see little hearts in his eyes.

After all the festivities the elders of the coven had come to talk to you both. “It’s time to christen the marriage” they said.

“What does that mean?” You asked.

Chans eyes went wide at their words “there’s no fucking way.” He said.

You looked at him still confused. “What does it mean?” You asked again.

“It means these sickos want to watch us fuck” he said bluntly.

“What??” You asked.

“It’s tradition Chan, if you do not do it the marriage is null” the elder said sternly.

“And why didn’t you tell us about this before” he bit back.

“We thought you knew” the elder shrugged “come to the house over there, we will be waiting” the elder said before walking away.

“You’re fucking kidding me” Chan groaned.

“Do we have to?” You asked.

“Yeah- I guess so?” He said in a huff. “I’m sorry” he sighed.

“Well, why don’t we give them a good show?” You said with a smirk.

You both headed to the house, the room was covered in flower peddles. The bed made up nicely with silky red sheets. You strolled in taking Chans hand “let’s give them a show they’ll only be able to dream of” you said with a chuckle.

Chan made his way to you, before you pulled him into a heated kiss. The first kiss you had shared. It was messy, teeth clashing against one another’s. Tongues colliding with one another. Chans hand glided up your dress pulling your panties down your legs. His hands were a bit shakey as he felt your soft skin against his.

You grinned yourself against his leg letting yourself go. You moaned into the kiss hands coming up to take his shirt off. “Fuck y/n” he groaned out his hands dipping between your legs only to be greeted with how wet you were. Something in him snapped, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He quickly moved himself back pulling your body at the edge of the bed before diving into your cunt like a starved animal. His tongue darted against your clit, hands keeping your legs spread.

He lapped at your folds taking in your sweet taste, your hands clung to his hair back arching off the bed. “Ah- f-fuck!” You moaned out. You tugged on his hair harshly grinding your dripping cunt into his plush lips.

“Mm, fuck- use my tongue my pretty wife” he moaned out. The name making your cunt clench. “Are you all liking the show? Like watching my pretty wife get off on me?” Chan yelled knowing the elders were watching from the glass.

Chans hand moved from your leg, pushing his long fingers into your cunt. He curled them ever so slightly hitting your sweet spots. He had your body shaking, close to orgasm. He moved his mouth from your dripping cunt, lips swollen. He kissed up your thigh before sinking his teeth into it. The slight pain only bringing you pleasure, your body felt like it was levitating. Arching off the bed once more before cumming hard around his fingers. He lapped at the blood only to come back to your cunt to mix the two. His new favorite taste.

He looked up at you with glazed over eyes before coming up to you kissing you messily again. He slipped his pants off stroking his cock slowly. “Chan- need you- fuck please” you whined. He chuckled “whatever my princess wants she’ll get” he slowly pushed his cock into you. Stretching you out so nicely, like he was made for you.

“Sh-shit” he moaned out. He couldn’t stop himself from moving. Your warm cunt sucking him in. His thrusts were slow but deep, Hitting your cervix perfectly. He leaned his body down biting down on your neck before sucking harshly at the spot. When he pulled away he latched his lips back to yours pushing the blood into your mouth. Both of your lips now stained red as his movement became faster.

Drinking from others was one thing but drinking from your partner especially during sex was almost like taking an aphrodisiac. It made you both go crazy. Chan brought his hand up gripping at your throat grinning from ear to ear. “Fuck- I love you y/n. I’ve waited so long for this” he groaned.

“I love you too!” You cried out. His grip around your neck tightened as he felt your cunt clench around him. “Gonna cum? Cum on my cock- fuck- make a mess-“ he said before speeding up his thrusts. Your high quickly crushed over you cumming hard around him. He let out an almost growl before pulling out. He spun you around putting you on your hands and knees.

He moved himself in-front of you pressing the tip of his cock to your lips. Before he let you take him in he bit his wrist. Dripping blood down on his cock. You groaned watching him before taking his cock into your mouth. You twirled your tongue around his shaft licking him clean of the blood and your slick. His hands rested at your head before pushing back your throat. “Ah- fuck- just like that beautiful you’re taking me so well- isn’t she? You old bastards still watching?” He said with a chuckle.

He gripped your hair pulling you fully down his cock, his head pushing as far as it could go. He pulled away watching the string of saliva keeping you tied together.

He moved himself behind you once more and with out warning this time pushed fully into you. “Fuck- fuck-“ he said under his breath. His full balls smacking against you as he bottomed out. His cock head kissing your cervix ever so perfectly. He was fucking into like he hated you. Thrusts were deep and harsh. He gripped your head with one of his hands before pushing it down into the bed. “Gonna take all my cum? Gonna let me fill you full for all these fuckers to watch?” He growled.

“Yes! Chan- fuck please! Breed me- cum inside me please” you begged.

“That’s my beautiful wife” he said with a smirk. He moved from your head hands locked on your hips as his nails dug into your soft flesh.

He thrusted in a few more times before pushing in as far as possible. His hot cum painting your walls white as his nails dug into deeper making you bleed. He leaned his body down as his balls emptied into you biting your shoulder. His sharp teeth piercing your skin for the third time as he claimed you as his. Your high was quick to crash over you once more, the bite pushing you further making you squirt all over the silky sheets.

You both panted trying to catch your breathes. Chan pulled you to him holding you against his chest. “You all have 10 seconds to leave. You got what you wanted now let me have my time with my wife” he snarled.” The elders rushed out not wanting the wrath that they knew Chan would bring.

He held you as close as possible rubbing your back as he peppered it with kisses. “You know” he said softly. “I’ve always been afraid to let myself fall in love again” he said trailing off. “But- I can’t help it.. I love you.. I really mean it when I say that I love you y/n”

“I’ll never do what that awful woman did to you. You’re stuck with me now you know? Can’t get rid of me anymore” you teased.

He squeezed you tightly “I couldn’t imagine that, you’re stuck with me too” he said with a chuckle kissing your back softly. “Let’s go get cleaned up yeah? Then we can get some food” he said sweetly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[genshinluvr]

Smug-a-Saurian(s)

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After the failed tour of Natlan, you decided to return to Natlan to complete the tour! However, you end up bringing something back to the abode. Was it intentional? No. Do you plan on letting it happen? Sort of, but you knew better.

Note: This is a spin-off mini-fic of The Nation of War fanfic! I was going to write something longer, but due to my impending night shift for work (tomorrow), I was not able to. My brain has been in shambles the entire week due to work preparations and the passing of Liam Payne (my 11-year-old self is incredibly heartbroken and in tears). Idk how my new work schedule is going to impact my updates, but we'll have to wait and see :< Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I wrote this with a lot going on in my head, so this fic is most definitely ass 🥲

Word Count: 3k

It’s a peaceful day at the abode, and everyone is lounging in the estate, keeping to themselves and occasionally chatting with one another. It’s a quarter to eleven in the morning, and yet the others haven’t seen you at all today. Your bedroom is vacant, and your shoes aren’t on the shoe rack close to the front door, so it’s safe to assume that you’re currently out and about somewhere in Teyvat. Do they know where you’re at? Not really, but they assume it’s Natlan since Mualani and Kachina wanted to hang out with you today. 

“Who gets up that early to hang out with people?” Itto mumbles, waddling into the living room with a dramatic sigh. “I miss my Onikabuto booboo bear!” He pouts, plopping on the couch beside a mildly miffed Scaramouche.

“If I had to deal with you every day, I would leave to hang out with other people at the ass crack of dawn, too,” Scaramouche grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Itto and Scaramouche glare at one another while Ayato sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Footsteps echo throughout the estate as Gorou walks down the stairs, rubbing the back of his head. The tension once present in the living room evaporates as the men wait for Gorou to speak.

About ten minutes ago— it’s probably less than that— Gorou volunteered to check your room to see if there’s a way to pinpoint when you left the estate. The men have nothing against you leaving the estate and abode whenever you want, but you leaving the abode at an ungodly time is something you would never do (unless you have something really important to do, like having to show up to the Akademiya to prepare for your research presentation).

Thoma stands up, approaching Gorou anxiously. “So? Did you find anything?”

Gorou sighs, propping his hands on his hips. “Their bed is moderately warm, so that means [Y/N] didn’t leave the estate at the crack of dawn. However…” Gorou trails off, stroking his chin. “That makes me wonder how they were able to leave the abode undetected.”

Again, the men aren’t against you leaving the estate and abode alone. You have as much freedom as any other person on Teyvat. What they’re concerned about is your safety— totally not because they’re clingy and want to be around you 24/7! However, they can’t really speak on Zhongli and Neuvillette’s behalf, considering the two men became quite clingy (well, even clingier than usual) after the unsuccessful tour around the Nation of War. 

Paimon sighs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about them! I’m sure they’re fine somewhere! If you guys are worried, why not communicate your worries with them? Isn’t that how relationships work?” Paimon asks, propping her hands on her hips as she bobs up and down in the air.

Everyone in the room nods, agreeing with Paimon. While they could communicate their worries to you, they don’t want to put any pressure on you after voicing their concerns. Plus, what’s there to worry about? You’re hanging out with your new friends! It’s not like you’re going to be smuggling a wild animal back to the abode or doing some illegal activities while on Teyvat, right?

Meanwhile…

You stand outside the teapot, debating on what you’re going to do with an army of issues before you. You bite your nails and glance at the teapot, then at the Saurian Whelps standing before you, staring at you expectantly. You’re so fucked. You went to Natlan to hang out with Mualani and Kachina to complete the tour of Natlan— of course, Kinich and Ajaw did show up for the first thirty minutes, but they left because Ajaw was being a little shithead that Kinich had to leave earlier than planned.

After hanging out with Kachina and Mualani, you head back to where the teapot is resting. Dakarai is the one to walk you back to the abode because he’s an absolute sweetheart and was eager to spend some extra time with you after not seeing you for who knows how long. However, on your way back to the teapot with Dakarai, you and the Tepetlisaur Whelp failed to notice certain creatures following from a safe distance. When you notice them, it is already too late to try to outrun them because you and Dakarai are surrounded by Saurian Whelps. Dakarai stands before you, curiously inspecting the other Saurians surrounding both of you.

“I don’t think I can bring you guys with me,” you say, tapping your feet on the ground as you try to remain strong in the face of Saurian Whelps.

The Tepetlisaur Whelp tilts its head, gazing at you curiously. You can see a visible question mark appearing above its head. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You’re trying your best to hold in your squeals. The Saurian Whelps are too cute, but at the same time, you cannot bring them into the abode. Saurians are from Natlan, and you don’t know if they can survive in an environment that isn’t Natlan. But how can you not bring them back to the abode with you!? Look at their little faces! They’re literally giving you the puppy dog eyes, almost as if they’re begging you to take them with you!

You turn to look at Dakarai— Aether and Paimon’s Tepetlisaur Whelp companion. “What do I do, Dakarai? I can’t bring them back because I don’t think the abode is a suitable environment for them.”

Dakarai roars in response.

You shake your head. “I don’t know if the abode is suitable for you either, Dakarai. But I guess we won’t know unless we try, right?”

Dakarai roars again in response, flailing his arms around cutely. You hold back a squeal and pat Dakarai’s head instead, hoping that’ll stop you from wanting to bring him into a tight hug. The other Saurians around you and Dakarai roar and whine in response, almost as if they’re demanding you to give them attention.

The Yumkasaur Whelp hops toward you, tilting its head to the side with a questioning gaze. “?” 

You shut your eyes and turn around, hoping that will make you become invisible to the eyes of the Saurian Whelps (it doesn’t). Surely, you can enter the abode without the Saurians trying to go with you, right?

The warm sun of Natlan beams down at you, heating the back of your head the longer you have your back facing the Saurian Whelps. If only Mualani, Kachina, and Kinich were here with you, then maybe they could lure the Saurians away. Unfortunately, it’s you against the world and the Saurian Whelps. Of course, Dakarai is with you, but you’re sure that he wants to come along with you to the abode. 

“Fuck it!” Without thinking, you touch the teapot with your eyes closed, not wanting to see the outcome of what you just did. 

When you’re finally in the abode, you open your eyes to see the beautiful estate where you and your beloveds reside. You nearly sigh in relief, glad that you’re finally home and can finally take a nap after who knows how long you’ve been gone. You stretch as you walk to the front door of the estate, listening to the birds chirping in the distance. 

Just as you reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and you come face-to-face with Diluc, who sighs in relief when you two make eye contact. Without hesitating, Diluc pulls you into his arms and buries his face into your hair.

“Welcome home, angel. We’ve been worried about you,” Diluc whispers into your hair, tightening his arms around you. 

You peek at Diluc, wrapping your arms around him. “Sorry for worrying you and everyone else. I was in Natlan completing the tour with Mualani and Kachina!” You say, pulling away from the hug. “Kinich and Ajaw were also there, but they left early because Ajaw was being mean.” You scratch the back of your head.

You and Diluc walk into the estate, where the others are waiting for you. The minute twenty-seven pairs of eyes land on you, everyone stands up and nearly lunges at you. The first person to get to you is, of course, Childe. The man has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, rubbing his cheek up against yours.

“Snookums!!! I haven’t seen you at all today, and this is how you greet me!?” Childe exclaims, pouting at you.

You pat Childe’s head, letting him cling to you. “I didn’t even get to greet you today, Childe. In fact, I barely entered the living room, and you’re already on me.” You reply, poking his cheek.

After coaxing Childe to release you from his iron grip, Childe reluctantly releases you after guiding you to the couch. Zhongli walks over to you, handing you a cup of tea. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Zhongli before taking a sip of the warm drink. 

Heizou sits across from you, bouncing his right leg with excitement as he leans forward. “So? How was Natlan? Did you see anything cool or interesting there?” His gorgeous eyes shimmer with curiosity. 

You nod, taking another sip of your tea as Neuvillette holds out a plate of macaroons toward you. You take a pink macaroon from the plate and take a bite of the sweet treat. Now that you think about it… you didn’t have breakfast before leaving for Natlan— nor did you eat anything while in Natlan. Then again, you didn’t feel hungry because you were so focused on exploring the new region with your new friends. 

You eating one macaroon ended up being the entire plate of macaroons. Neuvillette looks almost horrified as he watches you scarf down the sweet treats within five minutes. Wriothesley chuckles and pats your head, watching you happily sip your tea afterward.

“You’re quite hungry, aren’t you? Don’t tell me your tour guides didn’t take you out to eat,” Wriothesley teases, wiping the crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

You lick your lips and press your lips into a thin line before answering, “They didn’t, but that’s because I was so engrossed in wanting to explore the region that I completely forgot about needing to eat. But! But… I wasn’t feeling hungry at that time.”

Xiao suddenly appears beside you, his eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t see that Kinich person, did you? I don’t like him,” Xiao states, crossing his arms over his chest before turning his head away from you.

You blink at Xiao, unsure of how to answer him. You technically did see Kinich, but again, it was only for a brief moment because of Ajaw’s lack of behavior. 

“Kinich and Ajaw were at the tour, but they left early! It was just me, Mualani, and Kachina! Oh! And Dakarai!” You reply, nodding.

Xiao huffs, still not pleased to hear your response. Ever since the day of the failed tour around Natlan, Xiao has been voicing his distaste for Kinich’s relic companion. More so, the relic’s unnecessary and rude comments are aimed at you. If Ajaw isn’t making fun of you, he’s making fun of the men and their taste in a partner— or the lack of taste. You appreciate the men coming to your defense, but Ajaw’s comment doesn’t hurt you as much as it should. The relic reminds you of a younger sibling who loves roasting their siblings. Or the spoiled youngest child who gets what they want no matter what— that is what Ajaw reminds you of. 

“Anyway, I’m finally home now, and we can relax in the living room together!” You say, placing the half-empty teacup on the coffee table. 

You lean back on the couch and yawn; the urge to take a nap is slowly taking over. Before Childe can get the chance to have you snuggle up against him, Lyney tugs you in his direction and has you resting your head on his chest. Childe grumbles, shooting a glare in Lyney’s direction, only to receive a shit-eating grin from him. 

Tighnari and Gorou’s ears twitch at a strange sound. The two men lock gazes, not saying a word. Everyone in the room is migrating to where you’re sitting while both Tighnari and Gorou remain standing in their spots. Gorou points at the entrance, wordlessly asking if Tighnari heard the same thing as he did. Tighnari nods, confirming Gorou’s suspicion. 

You peek from Lyney’s chest, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “Tighnari? Gorou? Are you guys okay?”

Gorou and Tighnari stare at you. Tighnari smiles and nods. “Yes, we’re okay! But do you guys hear that?”

Everyone falls silent, trying to listen for whatever Tighnari and Gorou supposedly heard. Coming from the entrance of the estate, if you listen closely, you can hear faint scratching. It’s almost like something is trying to burrow into the floor of the estate but is unable to. Then, the sound of a familiar roar snaps you out of your sleepy haze. You sit up, looking around frantically at everyone in the room.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me…” you trail off, getting up from the couch and making your way to the front door.

Dainsleif raises his eyebrows at you. “[Y/N]... do you have something you want to tell us?”

You nervously laugh, “I have no idea what you guys are implying.”

It’s a lie. You actually do know what they’re implying, but you’re really hoping that whatever you assume is trying to burrow under the estate is the complete opposite of what you’re actively trying to avoid.

Before you can reach the door, Al Haitham wraps his arms around your waist while Kaveh walks to the door to see what the commotion is. When the door swings wide open, all you see is a small army of Saurian Whelps at the entrance. 

“Dear Archons…” you whisper, covering your mouth.

Kaveh looks at you with wide eyes. “Did you smuggle Saurian Whelps into the abode!?” He demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that why you were out in Natlan for so long?!” 

Al Haitham leans over and stares at your face for a moment. You can’t help but feel like a specimen being examined by scientists with the way Al Haitham’s looking at you. Archons, you can just die right now. 

Al Haitham sighs, shaking his head. “Given their facial expression, I highly doubt they smuggled Saurians into the abode. However, it seems like [Y/N] was very aware of the Saurian Whelps following them to the abode.”

You hear a small roar coming from the entrance. Your head perks up, and you see Dakarai at the entrance. When making eye contact with you, Dakarai shakes with excitement and waves at you before barreling past Kaveh and toward you. 

“Dakarai! It’s good to see you again!” Paimon exclaims happily, waving at the Tepetlisaur Whelp.

After seeing Dakarai enter the estate with ease, the other Saurian Whelps follow not long after. The Saurian Whelps surround you and Al Haitham, roaring and mewing with excitement. You go limp in Al Haitham’s arms, sighing in defeat.

So much for returning to the abode without the Saurians coming along; it’s not like you’re against the Saurians becoming residents of the beautiful abode that you share with the loves of your life. However, the people who do mind are your beloveds, and seeing the looks on their faces is concerning.

The majority of them look baffled, and then there’s Zhongli and Neuvillette. While they’re both masters of masking their emotions (most of the time), you can see slight annoyance on their faces. The once clear sunny skies of the abode have quickly turned to a dark gray sky with thunder crackling in the distance. 

Kaeya snorts, shaking his head. “Perhaps [Y/N] wanting to complete this tour around Natlan is another excuse for them to see the Saurian Whelps,” Kaeya teases, pinching your cheeks with a smirk.

Zhongli pinches the bridge of his nose. “We need to have a serious conversation about smuggling creatures into the abode, dearest. While I understand that is not your intention, you still manage to unintentionally bring a wild animal to the estate.”

You open your mouth to protest, but seeing the looks on other people’s faces makes you shut your mouth. The thunder in the distance grows louder and louder with each passing minute. You look at Neuvillette, who casually tucks his hair behind his ears, trying to act nonchalant about the entire situation. 

You squeak, “Neuvillette?”

Neuvillette clears his throat. “I agree with Zhongli. We need to have a serious conversation about this situation. While it’s not your intention to bring back fifteen wild Saurian Whelps to the abode, they are here illegally.”

Oh, shit. For once, Neuvillette isn’t calling Zhongli Deus Auri. You’re fucked. You’re going to get scolded by Zhongli and Neuvillette for unintentionally smuggling Saurians into the abode. The Saurian Whelps whimper, huddling close to you while shivering with fear the longer Zhongli and Neuvillette furrow their eyebrows.

You raise an index finger. “Before you guys scold me for something I didn’t do intentionally… can we pretty please keep the Saurian Whelps? Maybe we can get a license? I don’t know how it works in Natlan, but I can do my research, and then maybe, just maybe, we can let them live in the abode?”

The glares you receive from Zhongli and Neuvillette are bone-chilling, sending shivers down your spine. You sigh in defeat, pouting. You slowly turn to the Saurian Whelps, trying not to melt under the puppy dog eyes the Saurian Whelps are giving you. So much for trying to convince your beloveds to let you keep Saurians in the abode.

“If I can’t have Saurian Whelps in the abode, then can we have Ajaw instead?” You joke.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you crazy?”

You pat the top of Dakarai’s head as he continues to examine his surroundings. If you can’t have an army of Saurian Whelps in the abode, will they make an exception for Dakarai? After all, he is Aether and Paimon’s Saurian companion.

Note: I just fell to my knees. I am finally done writing this fanfic, and it's nearing 3 AM 😭 I officially will not be able to write or post fanfics at my usual time (in the middle of the night) because of my new work schedule 😔 I will make an announcement regarding that in the morning, and it will be pinned. I will make a new navigation post later— it'll hopefully be more organized than my current navigation post. Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[usomads]

Celoso // Damian Priest x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hellooo everyone, I had planned to put this out earlier in the day but something happened and it threw me pretty bad, but I still wanted to deliver. As always, happy readinggg!

Plot -> He doesn't want to see you with anyone else but him...

Pairings -> Damian Priest x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Friends to Lovers, Cursing, Jealous!Damian (Dom Mention lol), Choking, Spanking, Hickies, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F! Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

“Hey, Y/N, I gotta talk with production real quick… you alright to wait here for a second?” Damian had brought you backstage for an episode of Raw in Brooklyn, which mostly meant you were following him around all night, but it was so cool to be in his world for the night and see your childhood best friend live his dream, becoming one of the biggest stars on the brand in the process. 

“Of course, Dames, I’ll be here!” He flashed you a smile and walked off with someone, leaving you to fend for yourself for the time being. You pulled out your phone and scrolled through socials, making sure to respond to some messages from family and friends. X always provided you with some entertainment, especially on the wrestling side of the app, so you scrolled through some of the Damian fan accounts, liking some tweets here and there.

“Y/N! Is that you?” You snap your head up to find Dominik Mysterio, who was making his way over to you. Now, you weren’t gonna lie, after you met him last year when Damian was still in The Judgement Day you had developed a little bit of a crush on him. He was for sure attractive, but he was so laid back as well and you loved that. You didn’t dare tell Damian though, he’s been weird with crushes you had since you were kids, and after all you just thought Dom was cute- it’s not like it’d ever go anywhere.

“Dom, hey! How have you been,” you extended your arms out and wrapped them around his waist for a hug, staying there for a few moments before backing away. 

“I’m good, I’m good! I didn’t know you were in town tonight, it’s great to see you!”

“Dom… I live here, of course I’m in town,” you chuckled as he blushed, forgetting you were a Brooklyn native.

“Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “well hey! I’m staying here an extra day, I’ve got some press stuff to do but afterwards I was thinking we could go get some drinks? It’d be nice to spend some time with you, catch up for a bit…” he trailed off, giving you his trademark smirk letting you know he’s (most likely) up to no good. It was your turn to blush now, looking up at him as he scanned you from head to toe. 

“Um… yeah, I think I’m free tomorrow. I’ll just give you my number so you can text me when you’re done with your interviews and such. There’s this place I know near my apartment, they’ve got really good drinks and some decent food in case we get hungry. I’ll send it to you,” you smiled, taking his phone from his hand and inputting your number before handing it back to him, your hands brushing as you exchanged the phone. That simple touch sent a shock through your body as you looked up at him, sensing he felt the same thing. 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he walked backwards, still looking at you and whispered, “te ves bien esta noche, ángel1.” You blushed again at his words while he winked at you and walked off. You leaned back against the wall, sighing contently at the exchange, and noticed Damian standing to the side looking… upset? Sensing his foul mood, you made your way over to him. 

“Hey, there you are! Everything okay? Did the meeting go well?” He nodded, still staring off into the distance as you waved your hand in his face. “Earth to Damian, you sure you’re good?” 

“Yeah. m’fine, What’d he want?” He signaled to Dom, who was walking down the hallway.

“Oh, nothing super important, he just asked if I was free tomorrow to get drinks so I gave him my number so we could meet up. Haven’t seen him in like a year, so it’ll be fun to catch up,” The smile on your face dwindled as you noticed Damian seemed to be getting more and more irritated the more you brought Dom up.

“Sucio…” 

“Huh?” You thought you heard him mutter something under his breath.

“Nothing, let’s get outta here. You ready?” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you both out of the arena and to his car to head to your place, watching him closely as he drove. The arena wasn’t too far from your apartment, so you and Damian were able to get there and get settled in pretty quickly. The two of you were seated on your couch, beers in hand as you two talked about the night.

“Amor, don’t get me wrong, Dom’s my brother… but he’s a player. Seriously, that whole ‘Dirty Dom’ thing you see is real. I just don’t want you to get hurt, ‘cuz then I’d have to kick his ass forreal.”

“Dames, c’mon, it’s not even like that. We’re just catching up, that’s it.”

“You sure about that? Y/N, please don’t be stupid, he was basically fucking you with his eyes…” you smacked his arm gently, cutting him off.

“Hey! Chill, he wasn't, he's just… friendlier than most, I guess. And besides, is it really a bad thing if it is a date?” Damian’s entire demeanor shifted. “I mean, I haven’t gone out with a guy in over a year… maybe it’s time to do something about that? I’ve been pretty lonely, Damian, I don’t exactly have you around all the time…”

“What, and you think Dom can help you with that?”

“Well, I-” he cuts you off, his deep voice getting more and more intense with every second.

“You think Dom can keep you company better than I could? Treat you better than I could? Love you better than I could?” You furrow your brows at him, confused as to why he’s making this all such a big deal.

“Jesus, Dame, you act like you’d be losing me if I were with Dom. Newsflash, you wouldn’t, so why the fuck are you freaking out on me right now?” Damian sighed, setting his beer down and rubbing his temples in frustration.

“Y/N, you just don’t get it…”

“Well then make me understand, Damian. You’re sitting here mad at me because Dom asked me to go get drinks and I just don’t get it. You’re supposed to be happy for me, I’m finally putting myself out there again and as my best frie-”

“It’s just that, Y/N, I don’t want to be your friend anymore, okay? He estado enamorado de ti desde que éramos niños.2 All these years, I’ve waited and waited but I’m tired of waiting, Y/N, I want you. More than anything in this world,” he paused to watch your reaction, as you sat shocked. All this time, he’s been in love with me?

“The thought of you going out with Dom, being with him, letting him touch you? It makes me sick, mi amor, because it should be me. It should be me touching you…” he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, “loving you…” his fingers dance along your jaw and cup your cheek, “tell me you feel it too, please, I know you do.”

“D-Dames, I-,” you stutter out, still trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. Damian sighs, removing his hand from your face and distancing himself, placing his hands on his knees before standing himself up.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I understand…” he trailed off. “I think it might be best if I head home, give us both some time to think about things. I’ll see you later.” Damian heads towards the door, head down as he drags himself to leave. You realize you’re about to let the best thing to ever happen to you walk out, so you stand up and run over to him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to turn him around. Your hands grab his face and pull him down to meet your lips, his hands wrapping around your waist instinctively. You pull away from him, hands still on his face and looking into his eyes. “Dames, I’ve always loved you, I just never thought you did too.” You confessed, blushing as you did so, “but I promised Dom I’d go out for drinks with him. I can’t just cancel on him, we’re fr-” 

“Still thinking about Dom…” Damian closes the distance between you too, bodies dangerously close, “Baby, you won’t be able to remember his name after I’m done with you…  only name that’s gonna be coming from those pretty little lips of yours,” his lips hovered over your own as he growled, “is mine.” He crashes his lips into yours, snaking his hands up your torso and removing your shirt before removing his own. The kiss was intoxicating, your mind feeling fuzzy as you wrapped your arms around his neck and walking the two of you backwards. Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, making you gasp which allows Damian’s tongue to slip inside and assert its power over you. His fingers trailed along your sides and wove themselves into the waistline of your pants, tugging on the clothing to undo the button. You reached your hands down between you, allowing him to step back as you removed your bottoms and tossed them to the side.

“Fuck, Y/N, tu cuerpo es una obra de arte. C’mere.” Damian pulls you to him and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom. You giggled, playfully kicking your feet and trying to ‘get away’ but Damian’s grip on you remained firm as he placed a smack to your ass making you bury your head in his shoulder as he rubbed the smooth skin and walked you to the foot of your bed. He laid you down before taking his jeans off and climbing on the bed with you, pulling you on top of him and pulling you back in for another kiss. You were straddling him, your hips grinding against him. He hissed against your lips, feeling your wet pussy soak through your panties and onto his growing bulge. The movement of your hips was driving him wild, but more wild were his imaginations of you sinking down on his cock and moving your hips like that while he was buried inside you. He would hold onto that thought, flipping you two over and targeting the sensitive skin on your neck. He bit and sucked the flesh hard, drawing bruises to the surface without a doubt. The intensity in which he worked on you had you spiraling- your mind was hazy and the soft moans being elicited from your mouth were beginning to grow louder. He continued his descent downwards, being sure to kiss, bruise, and nip at your breasts and sternum as he traveled downward. His face was finally level with where you craved him most, and luckily for you he was in no mood for games. He took the delicate material of your panties in his hands and ripped them, the cloth now coming off with ease as your pussy clenched at the sight. He chuckled, admiring your pussy and watching it pulse in ways he knew only he could make it do.

“Oh, baby, she’s so ready for me already,” he brings his right hand to your folds and collects your juices on his fingers, placing them in his mouth and moaning at your taste. “So fuckin’ sweet for me too. Pretty pussy knows who her Papi is, doesn’t she?” You moan at his words, whining as he teases you with his fingers. “Whose pussy is this, nena?” 

“Y-yours, it’s yours…” you moaned but Damian, not satisfied, delivers a gentle smack to the front of your pussy, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, rubbing you to ease the sting from his hand. “You must’ve misunderstood.. I said… whose pussy is this, baby?” He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs circles, your back arching at his motions. “Mmm, fuck, it-it’s yours, Papi. All yours. Please…” you whimper. “So much better, baby,” he groans and lowers his head, allowing your thighs to wrap around it as his tongue and fingers conduct you to your orgasm like a symphony. The torturous pace of his tongue compared to the pace of his fingers was sending you completely over the edge, your body shaking as he coaxed you to cumming on his fingers. He cleaned you with his mouth, savoring your taste on his tongue as he brought himself back to your level. You kissed him passionately, tasting yourself on his lips and moaning into his mouth. You flipped the two of you over to straddle him again as you kissed down his chest, desperately wanting to return the favor. You bring yourself level to the bulge aching in his boxers that desperately wants release and lace your fingers in the waistband, pulling them down. His cock springs free and rests against his lower stomach, bigger than anyone else you’ve been with. You gasp at the sight. “Y-you’re s-so big..” you mumble, keeping your eyes glued to his length. He chuckled, cupping your face and bringing you to look up at him. 

“You like what you see? Hmm?” You nod, biting your bottom lip and taking him in your hand. You pump him slowly, spitting on his dick and teasing the tip with light sucks. He grips your hair and pulls down while you look up at him, lifting your chin and letting your mouth fall open. “Papi don’t like you teasin’ me like this, pretty girl,” he groaned at the sight of you before him, so desperate for him. “M’gonna have to fuck that outta you, you understand?” 

“Y-yes, Papi,” you whispered. He winks at you as he slides his cock into your open mouth, your lips tightening around him as he thrusts himself into your throat. He sits up, getting leverage before tightening the grip on your hair and fucking your throat with no mercy. He moans your name loudly, eyes glazed over watching as a trail of saliva dribbles down your chin as your eyes water from his work on your throat. He slows down, pulling out of your mouth as his hand grips his length.

“Mmm, come sit on this dick, princesa.” You crawl up to him and swing your leg over to straddle him, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing his tip along your entrance. Damian’s hands settle at your waist as you rub yourself on him, before sinking down on his cock. You both throw your heads back in pleasure and moan as he slowly bottoms out inside you. You grind your hips on him, your clit brushing on his pelvic bone, and you whimper his name. Your slow grinds pick up as you lose yourself in the feeling of Damian filling you that you grab hold of the headboard and fuck yourself on his dick. Sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs fill the room as you chase your orgasm, as Damian pulls you down to him and wraps his arms around you while thrusting into you from below you. Your moans turn to screams as you bite down on his shoulder, trying hard not to completely fall apart on him. 

“F-fuckkk, Dames. M’so close.. I’m gonna-” Before you finish your thought he throws you off of him, pulling you to your hands and knees before roughly slamming into you from behind. He delivers harsh slaps to your ass as he fucks you mercilessly.

“You think Dom can make you feel this good?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as you moan for him, arching your back and allowing him to go deeper. “You think he can touch you like I can? Dime, cariño, could Dom fuck you this good?” He grabs you by the neck now, lightly squeezing as he pulls you flush against his chest and continues to pound into you from behind. “Answer Papi like a good girl,” he growled in your ear.

“Oh fuckkk, no no no. Only you, Papi. I’m all yours, Dames. Only you can make me- oh my god, I’m so close… please, Papi, please let me cum…” you begged for him, pleading for your release as Damian continued to drill into you.

“Shiiiiit, fuck Y/N- go ahead, baby. Cum all over Papi’s dick.” And with his words your orgasm comes crashing down on you, you shake in his arms as you release all over his cock, moaning Damian’s name over and over as you come down. Damian follows suit, pumping his cum deep inside your pussy and moaning your name into your neck, planting kisses along your neck and shoulder. He pulls out of you, collapsing next to you and opening his arms for you to rest your head on his chest.

Damian was woken up by the sound of a phone ringing. He blinked his eyes open, seeing you were in a deep and peaceful sleep. You were not waking up. He realizes it’s your phone so he picks it up to turn it off, but sees the caller ID and stops. Dom.

He slides his thumb across to answer the call. “Hey, Y/N! I wanted to let you know I’m done wi-”

“Oye, Y/N’s not going out tonight, está ocupada conmigo… oh, and Dom,” he paused, glancing over at you and watching you sleep soundly beside him, “borra su número antes de que tengamos un problema.” Damian hangs up before Dom can speak, setting your phone to the side and cuddling into you once more before falling back asleep himself.

[lunajay33]

Why Me?

•🤎🐺🪵🍂🌑•

Summary: Bella and Y/n are twins but when Bella and Renee moved away you stayed with Charlie always growing closer with the people around La push, but when Bella comes back it’s like everything is flipped around, Bella becomes distant obsessed with the cullens, you find solace with the guys at the beach but things change after the first year and suddenly you’re all alone, will anyone come back, will Paul your best friend, your forever crush come save you from depression

Pairing: Paul Lahote x f!reader

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts

Part.2

•Masterlist•

It was a simple life in forks but I loved it this is where I’m meant to be, I can’t explain it but it calls to me, the rainy weather, the cool breeze, the calm beach at La push, even my group of friends made my life feel complete

Plus I had dad or as Bella called him, Charlie, after mom and Bella left when I was only 4 it was usually just the two of us, suppers out at the cafe or cozy nights at Jacob’s as they watched the game, I kept him a float after the devastating heart break even thought I was young, mom tried to take me with them the night everything happened but I held on to dad screaming for him to keep me, and here we are today just me and him it was perfect everything was exactly how it should be, then we got the call Bella was moving back I was nervous at first I haven’t seen her since she stopped visiting years ago

“I’ll be back later, be safe and if you go out leave a note okay sweetie?” Dad stated as he picked up the keys to his police cruiser

“Okay dad! Drive safe” we shared a hug before he left leaving me alone and anytime I was free I’d either walk through the forest behind my house or hang out at the beach with Paul or Jacob

I pulled on a coat and hiking boots heading to the over grown trees lining the backyard, the weather is not too cold but it’s still over cast, the trees are lined with a thick moss the ground littered with pine cones and varying animals tracks

Sometimes I’d find Paul trying to blow off steam out here so hopefully I’ll come across him today needing my best friend right now with all the stress I’ve been feeling about Bella’s return

After a bit more walking I heard groaning as I approached the cliff we sometimes would hang out on, I rounded a tree and saw Paul sitting there huffing and puffing, he’s always had anger issues growing up but I was always there for him and for some reason I was the only one to calm him down

Silently I sat next to him laying my head on his shoulder his arm instinctly wrapping around my waist quickly finding comfort in each others company

“Remember when we were nine and you were so angry that Jacob took my ice cream, you pushed him into a puddle and got me a new ice cream and I had to keep you calm away from Jake the rest of my party” I stated laughing remember how cute he was and that’s the day my crush on him started which grew over the years but I’d never tell him that, I can’t risk what I have with him

He sighed squeezing my hip his breathing calming down

“I couldn’t help it you were so excited all day for your ice cream and that look in your face when he took it mad me so mad, you know I hate seeing you upset”

“Don’t get soft on me Lahote” he huffed out a laugh

“What’s wrong Paul? Anything I can do to help?” I asked finally looking up at him

He looked hesitant his eyes looking anywhere but me, I drew my hand through his long beautiful black hair trying to ease his worries

“Just a lot lately, things with the older tribe members don’t worry about it, how about you Bella’s coming today you still nervous?”

“Yeah what if we’re not like how we were as kids, what if she doesn’t like me anymore I mean I know I can be a burden sometimes but I just want my sister”

“Hey what did I tell you about talking about yourself like that, she’s gonna love you and you’re not a burden why do you think the guys and everyone around you loves you?”

Sometimes when he’d get sweet talking like this it only made me love him more, feeling the blush spread across my cheeks I pushed his arm playfully trying to hide my feelings

“You’ll always be here for me right Paul, even when we both have stuff going on you’ll be here?” My hands fiddling together

“Always”

It’s been a week since Bella’s moved back and it’s been nice, we reconnected and talked before bed most nights just catching up on everything, and it was nice to have a friend at school now, I never really had friend at the forks school, I tried but no one ever bothered, plus all my friends down at La push is better than anyone here

Sitting at my usual lunch table by the windows I glance over seeing Bella with her whole new table of friends, she said she’d sit with me if it bothered me to be alone but I didn’t want to get in the way of her making new friends plus I saw how she’d rather be with them it was the perfect spot to look at the cullens, who she’d make goggly eyes at every lunch

But the day dragged on as usual but when that final bell rang I was free, I ran out the door heading straight to where Paul usually parked to pick me up but he wasn’t there which was strange he was never late

“Hey y/n do you need a ride?” Bella called from a few spots down waiting at her truck

“Oh ummm no I should be fine maybe he’s just running late” I waved her off just hoping he was okay

I sat on the stairs watching as the cars emptied the parking lot one by one till there was no one but me and the setting sun

I sighed realizing he wasn’t coming so I started walking home, once I got through the door I dialed Paul on the house phone my heart beating anxiously

The tones rang one after another but no answer so I called Jacob instead and of course he answered immediately

“Hello Black residence” his chipper voice always made me smile he was such a sweet guy

“Hi Jake it’s y/n Paul didn’t pick me up today and I was wondering do you know if he’s okay?”

“Oh no I haven’t heard…..” I heard a mumbled voice behind him then the voice changed

“Who is this?” And I recognized that voice it was Sam Uley

“Hey Sam it’s me y/n swan! Ummm sorry if I interrupted something I was just calling worried about Paul, have you seen him around?”

“Oh he’s gonna be under the weather for a while he’s caught a stomach bug, we don’t wanna risk you getting sick too”

“Can I visit just to drop off soup or something?” My heart ached knowing what he’d say

“I’m sorry honey not yet, it’ll be awhile just give him time”

“But……but he’s my best friend” my voice wavered haven’t never being apart from him for a long period of time there was this pull to him I always felt so being apart felt…….wrong

“Just give it time honey, I’ve gotta go, goodnight” and with that he hung up the phone felt heavy in my hand

I’ve seen Paul every day since he got his licence, he’s a year older so when he got it he promised to pick me up everyday to make sure I was safe, Bella can drive me now but it’s not the same after a long day I’d get in his truck and cuddle up to his side and drive down to the beach and relax

“Sweetie why are you crying?” Dad broke me out of my thoughts as he hung up the phone

“Oh it’s nothing just….pauls sick I’m just worried”

“That kid is strong he’ll be just fine” he smiled patting my shoulder before he got a soda from the fridge

The days dragged on and I thought he’d atleast pick up the phone when I called or even call me but nothing, not a word and now a month has gone by I thought I’d have Bella but she quickly became all involved with Edward Cullen, the older member of the tribe weren’t quite fond of their family they told me stories but I thought it was all just legends never thinking too much about them

So now without Bella and Paul I was alone, my world felt flipped upside down, everything use tk be perfect but now I felt ripped of who I was, I fell hollow, drained, the all crushing depression, I can’t sleep evident by the dark circles under my eyes, I can barely eat shown by the hollows covering my body and the clothes that hung on my body, I felt like I’m dying, I’m fading

I’ve never been through a break up but this can’t be how it feels this has to be something different, something more painful

School was like hell, even worse than before, Bella convinced me some days to sit with her and the cullens and Alice was always trying to cheer me up but nothing was ever permanent

I picked at my rice as Emmett bragged about how he beat Edward in a baseball game

“Still not feeling well?” Jasper asked next to me, the first time I’ve ever heard him speak

“I think somethings wrong with me, I think I’m dying” everyone stopped what they were talking about and eyes were on me but I didn’t care anymore

“Why would you say that y/n?” Alice spoke

I sighed excusing myself from the table walking away, they couldn’t understand but maybe the elders could, I called dad and he said he’d be at the school to pick me up seeing as work was going slow

A few minutes later the cruiser pulled up and I got in the front seat

“Sick again?” He asked worry written all over his face

I’ve been calling him to pick me up from school a lot, either from spells of nausea throwing up or just the overwhelming depression

“Can you take me to Emily’s?” She was like a aunt to me always so sweet and that’s what I needed right now

“Of course sweetie” the drive was silent until we pulled into the gravel drive way seeing Sam and Emily step out

“Try and relax okay, I’ll pick you up whenever you’d like just call” I managed a smile and got out seeing him drive away

I walked up the porch steps straight into Emily’s arms

“Oh honey what’s happened we haven’t seen you in so long” she said stepping back taking in my clearly broken and sick appearance, the baggy brown hoodie that use to fit relative tight and some ratty sweat pants, my hair pulled into two messy braids

“Somethings wrong Emily, I didn’t know who else to ask” finally letting the tears stream down my face, she squeezed my hands giving Sam a desperate look as she led me inside

I sat on the couch as she dropped a fluffy blanket over my legs telling Sam to make me a hot chocolate

“What’re you feeling hun? How did all this start” her voice always soothed me

“I can’t eat or sleep, I can’t feel it’s like I’m hollow inside and it hurts, not just emotionally I physically get sick all the time, dad brought me to the doctors and they say nothing is medically wrong” Sam placed the drink on the table infront of me and sat next to Emily on the couch across from me

“When did this all start?” He asked

“The day Paul left me, I know it sounds crazy but…….its likes a piece of me died when he stopped coming around” they looked at eachother with knowing looks

“You’re not crazy”

“Then what? Do you know what’s wrong with me?” I ask almost pleading

“I might, how about you and Emily catch up and rest, I’ll be back soon” and with that he left leaving me confused

The sun started setting and I didn’t want to bother Emily more that needed

“I think I’m gonna head home, thanks for having me today” I said pulling on my coat at the door

“Do you want me to call Charlie it’s a long walk hun”

“Oh no I’m…..I need some air I’ll be fine”

“Okay but be safe and call me when you get home so I know everything okay?”

“Okay Em” I faked a smile and left feeling the cool breeze hit me, but I lied theres no going home this time, I’m going to where I last had him, the cliffs

The walk was long and cold but when I finally made it the moon was shining bright over head, dropping to my knees I cried and cried until there was no more tears left

What was the point anymore he’s never coming back so this pain will never go away I feel like I’m fading away anyways

Standing up I neared the cliff edge the sea breeze blowing up from far below

“Maybe in another life I’ll find you Paul” then a quick breeze whooshed past my body opening my eyes I wasn’t at the cliff anymore but in the deep forest

Emmett Cullen right infront of me, confused and upset I step away crossing my arms over my chest

“Emmett why would you stop me, what’re you even doing here” I sigh wanting to just scream

“What the hell were you thinking, why would you try to kill yourself what about Bella what about Charlie?”

“It hurts so much Emmett can you just make it go away, I wanna be okay again”

“This isn’t suppose to happen to you, you’re suppose to be Bella’s sweet shy sister” he sighs pulling me into a tight cold hug, nothing like how it felt with Paul

“Not anymore Em”

“Do you wanna come over I can make you anything you want and I can make a cozy spot for you infront of the fire place”

“Oh I couldn’t impose like that”

“If Bella’s family now so are you” before I could agree a growl rumbled through the trees

Turning a grey wolf the size of a mini van emerged from the trees its eyes piercing at Emmett

“Emmett what do we do?” I ask scared gripping his arm

“Calm down you’ll be okay just trust me okay”

“O…okay” and the next second he was gone in the blink of an eye

He left me, I turn back to the wolf that no longer growled but was whining, getting closer it laid down infront of me nudging my leg with its snout, suddenly the fear dissapeared

I lean down and cautiously rubbed my hand through its soft fur hearing it grumble, sitting in front of it it moved forward laying its head across my lap completely covering it

“You’re quite beautiful, like a gentle giant” rubbing its fur helped sooth me bringing me back to reality of what I almost did tonight

“I can’t believe I almost ended it all tonight, he’ll come back to me soon right? I’ll be happy again someday won’t I?”

I licked at my hand whining

“He promised he wouldn’t leave me, he always said he’d protect me and he always made me happy I don’t know what to do without him”

The wolf got up motioning to get on it back and for some reason I didn’t think twice about it, hopping on I held onto its next as it made its way down the path back the way I came

Right back to Emily’s house

Part.2

Taglist: @lilredcamaro14 @cvmtitss @larissa01-blog2

[lovebugism]

if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?” 

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you. 

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.” 

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered. 

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

[jibitzlesscrocs]

maybe weird request, but can you write something with Matt and virgin reader, where they are making out and she stops him because she wants to wait until marriage, and that it’s making him even crazier about her, and hornier because in his mind that’s hot, but obviously he respects her and reassure her because she is a little worried that he might leave her

matt sturniolo x virgin!reader

warning : references to sex

not yet

in which, reader wants to wait

You were lying underneath him on his bed, half-laughing, half-out of breath, your legs tangled under his, your fingers still knotted in his hoodie as you pulled back from another kiss.

Matt looked wrecked in the prettiest way. His hair was messy, his lips red from kissing you senseless, and his eyes… those stupid blue eyes were locked on your mouth like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

“God,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. “You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You gave a nervous laugh and bit your lip, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. His hand was still at your waist, his other supporting his weight beside your head, and you felt the slow shift in the air… the moment where it could turn into something else.

You loved Matt. That wasn’t even a question anymore. He made you feel seen, wild and safe at the same time. But your heart was pounding now, in that other way, because you knew where this was going if you didn’t say something.

So you did.

“I wanna stop.”

Matt froze immediately — no hesitation, no sigh, no roll of the eyes. His brows pinched slightly, concern flashing over his face.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, fingers still curled in the hem of his shirt. “Yeah. I just… I wanna wait.”

You saw the second it registered. His mouth parted, but he didn’t say anything yet, like he didn’t want to fill the silence with the wrong thing. You swallowed, throat dry.

“I’ve never…” You looked down, heat crawling up your neck. “And I don’t want to until I’m married.”

Matt didn’t move for a second. Then slowly, softly, he leaned back a little to give you space. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to read every word you hadn’t said yet.

“Okay,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, but nerves still twisted in your stomach. “I get it if that’s… a lot. I know that’s not what most people-”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Look at me.”

You did.

“I’m not ‘most people.’” His thumb brushed along your cheek, grounding you. “You think I’m here for sex?”

You blinked. “No, but… it’s not like you haven’t had the option.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, lips quirking just slightly. “But none of them were you.”

You stared at him, and he smiled — crooked and breathless, like you’d just knocked the wind out of him. “You could’ve said you wanted to wait ten years, and I’d still show up for you every day.”

“Besides,” he added, voice dipping as his eyes flicked to your lips again, “you think it’s not hot that you’re saving that part of yourself for someone you really love? You think that doesn’t make me wanna kiss you even more and earn the hell out of that trust?”

You were sure your heart stopped for a full second.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said seriously, forehead resting against yours. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m already yours.”

You felt your eyes sting, but you smiled. “Even if I keep making out with you and then backing out like a scared virgin?”

He grinned, wide and real this time. “Especially if you keep doing that. It’s driving me insane.”

You laughed, and he kissed you again — slower this time, less rushed — and you knew then that this wasn’t about holding him back.

It was about him choosing to meet you where you were.

And that made all the difference.

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