#this would have been better with another day to sit on it maybe but i can't look at

[bittybeanscafe]

Oh, They’re So Weird (☉-⚆)

“You recently got laid off of your job. Thankfully, you found an ad on Craigslist that paid quite a bit for you to just housesit! 🍩”

DAY FOUR

Previous Day -> Next day

CONTAINS: Mateo, Betty, Mac, Artt, Keyes, Tyrell, Amir, Telly, Hector, Friar Errol, Luke, Stefan, Freddie, and brief mentions of other objects because of a meeting (Celia, Harper, Dirk, Teddy, Chairemi, and Volt)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait lol. Also, sorry if I was unable to get you in the tag list. A lot of people wanted to be added, so I might have missed a bit. Or I was unable to tag you. I think that might be a me issue but I’m not sure.

You stirred slowly, blinking up at the ceiling with a sleep-heavy haze behind your eyes.

Something was… different.

The blanket was wrapped around you just right. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just firm enough to press into your shoulders, your hips, your chest. It felt like it had weight to it now. Not stifling, just comforting, like a hug that knew when to let go and when to hold you closer.

You didn’t remember it being a weighted blanket when you got here. Had you missed that detail?

Did it matter?

You sighed through your nose, eyes fluttering shut for a few more precious seconds. Your legs shifted slightly, but the blanket moved with you, cradling every angle of your body. You felt… cocooned. Safe.

Unseen and unspoken in the quiet world just beside your own, Betty gently fluffed the pillow beneath your head. Mateo pressed a little firmer into your back, a silent, immovable warmth that grounded your whole body. Neither said anything. But both radiated a quiet, glowing joy.

They were happy.

You were here.

Eventually, the morning tugged you from the bed with soft reluctance. You murmured a half-hearted goodbye to the blanket, maybe you’d even thanked it, and got dressed in something loose and comfortable. Today would be lighter. Or so you thought.

Your first stop was the office. You weren’t even sure why, just that it felt right. Familiar. Like maybe the computer would greet you again with completed work you didn’t remember doing.

You sat in the same chair and booted up the computer. It whirred to life like it was happy to see you. Still fast. Still flawless. Still faintly unsettling.

As you waited for the screen to load, your eyes wandered toward the walls. There was that art again. The framed pieces you had admired on the first day: beautiful, strange, modern in a way that felt too intentional.

You squinted.

Had the eyes on that one always been… turned this way?

You stepped to the side.

The gaze followed.

You blinked, looked at another. Tilted your head.

Still following.

You frowned slightly, a pit blooming low in your stomach. “Weird,” you muttered to yourself.

There was no sound in reply.

Just a low creak behind the walls.

The air felt… different.

Only slightly.

But enough.

You shook it off and sat back down at the desk. The keyboard clicked happily beneath your fingers, and your work loaded again, flawless. Maybe even better than yesterday.

But something inside you, something you hadn’t quite heard since that dream, was beginning to whisper again:

This isn’t normal. You know that, right?

You leaned back in the oddly perfect desk chair and let out a satisfied little huff. “Man, I don’t know how this computer does it, but everything’s done again.” You squinted at the screen. “Seriously. I feel like I should pay you at this point.”

You laughed to yourself. Then…

A white window appeared.

Just a blank screen… with a pixelated smiley face sitting in the middle.

: )

You paused.

“…Okay then.”

It was simple, kind of weird… but not creepy. Somehow. You smiled back awkwardly at the screen and reached forward to shut the computer down. “Glad you’re on my side, mystery machine.”

Inside the humming body of the computer, Mac quietly glowed with joy. Someone had smiled at them. Not mocked or ignored or dismissed, smiled. It was a small thing, but for them? It felt bigger than code.

You headed to the kitchen next, stomach growling. You were too tired to cook anything complicated, so you grabbed the bag of frozen nuggets from the freezer.

“Simple lunch,” you muttered, tossing a few into the air fryer.

Minutes later, a soft ding announced they were done.

You opened the fryer and paused. The nuggets were… perfect. Crispy on the outside, tender inside. The exact golden color you liked. You blinked at them.

“You didn’t do too bad,” you mumbled, poking one with your fork. “Thanks?”

From beyond the veil of your reality, Friar Errol tood tall in his metal shell, glowing with righteous smugness.

“And lo, did I say unto thee, ‘be not tempted by the false idols of soggy heating!’ For Stefan burneth, and Luke scorcheth, but I? I crisp with divine balance!”

“Convert now, dear child, and I shall lead thee to salvation: perfectly golden, perfectly seasoned.”

From across the room, Luke buzzed in irritation.

“Excuse me?! I reheat with consistent internal temperature! Not everything needs to be rung out like a towel, holy man.”

Stefan flicked his burners.

“I may get a little zealous on high heat, but at least I cook like a real appliance. You’re nothing but a glorified hair dryer with a superiority complex.”

“Silence, flame-born sinner!” Friar Errol bellowed back. “You turn chicken into ash and pizza into charcoal! I deliver divine crunch!”

Meanwhile, sweet Freddie gave a quiet hum of happiness when you opened the door.

The drink inside? Perfectly chilled. Not frozen. Not warm. Exactly how you liked it.

You took a sip and sighed. “Okay, kitchen… you’re really pulling it together today. Gold stars all around.”

In the cold hum of his little world, Freddie practically wiggled in delight.

“I’m just happy to be of service!”

After lunch, you walked into the living room with your cold drink in hand, planning to relax a bit before heading back to the office. You passed by the piano on your way to the couch, glancing at it the same way you always did, politely, like one would nod at an old neighbor you don’t really know.

But then, the keys moved.

Just one or two at first, like a fluke. But then they played again. And again. And before you could process it, a familiar melody began to echo gently through the room.

Your favorite song.

You froze.

No one was near the piano.

You turned in a slow circle to make sure.

Still alone.

“…Okay. That’s not weird at all.”

The music continued, soft and sweet. Like it wasn’t trying to show off, just please you.

Deep within her elegant wooden frame, Keyes smiled to herself as her keys danced smoothly.

“Such sophisticated taste,” she whispered to no one but herself. “I knew it. I knew it. And to think, I wouldn’t have known had Curt and Rod not mentioned the humming. They listen so closely. I owe them so much.”

She played the last few notes with extra care, like placing flowers at someone’s door.

After shaking off the piano thing, kind of, you dropped down onto the couch and grabbed the remote. A little TV wouldn’t hurt, right?

You clicked the power button.

The screen lit up. Instantly, a show started playing. Not just any show, that show. The one you’d been meaning to start but hadn’t gotten around to. Weird coincidence. You changed the channel.

Another show you had mentioned offhandedly. Then another. Then one you’d forgotten you wanted to watch.

You lowered the remote slowly. “…Alright.”

On the other side of the screen, Telly nearly buzzed with excitement, their static heart fluttering.

“Only the best for our favorite viewer!” they chirped. “No subscription fees, no commercials, just curated perfection. You’ll see! I’m better than any streaming service! I know what you want before you do!”

You stood up, shaking off the weird feeling starting to press in behind your ribs. “Okay… maybe I just need some fresh air.”

You passed through the hallway, and the mirror you caught your reflection in? Your face looked really good in it. Not like a normal mirror. Like the perfect lighting, perfect angle, perfect everything.

“You look your best with me, azizam,” Amir whispered from behind the glass, his frame humming gently with pride. “I only show you what you deserve to see.”

In the bathroom, your toothbrush had already been loaded with paste. The water was the exact temperature you liked. The towel rack had the fluffiest towel folded on top, just for you.

“I fluffed it twice,” said Tyrell. “Just in case once wasn’t enough…”

Even the hallway lights dimmed when you squinted. Brightened when you leaned in to check your phone.

The objects weren’t just helping, they were observing. Adjusting. Learning.

You sat down on the couch again and gripped your cup a little tighter. This was nice. Very nice. A little too nice.

You weren’t sure when it started feeling like the house was… watching.

Not in a bad way. Not yet.

But you could feel it now. Something behind the warmth. Behind the comfort.

You took a sip from your drink.

“…What is this place?”

And though no one answered, the house practically held its breath.

After dinner and a few more eerily perfect episodes of your favorite show, you decided to turn in early.

The minute you stepped into your bedroom, the air shifted. The temperature? Exactly how you liked it. Not a single degree off. The sheets? Warm but breathable. The blanket, just weighted enough to anchor your limbs without crushing you.

You blinked.

“Okay… now I know it wasn’t this comfy on day one…”

“That’s because you’ve been adjusted,” muttered a voice, though only just outside your perception.

Behind the vent, Hector sat in the dark of the central panel, staring at your sleeping figure through the vents like a Victorian man seeing his muse for the first time.

“They’re perfect,” Hector whispered reverently. “So considerate. So grateful. So warm-blooded.”

“I calibrated every degree to match their soul. Their SOUL!”

You drifted off to sleep fast, your body practically melting into the bed.

And once your breathing evened out…

The house began to shift.

Not physically (they weren’t trying to scare you… yet), but in a low hum of gathering energy, of quiet footsteps, of whispers through pipes and vents and sockets.

In the ethereal echo of the object world, Mayor Celia stood on her platform, a clipboard in hand, heels clicking on the polished marble floor that didn’t actually exist. Her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, her blouse wrinkle-free despite being conceptual.

“Okay, meeting of the household objects, let’s come to order!” she barked with a sharp smile. “Topic of the hour: the house sitter. Or as Hector has called them: ‘my thermal twin flame.’”

“I stand by it,” Hector muttered, arms crossed, a small space heater clutched dramatically to his chest.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Rebel groaned, flopping over a chair back. “You need therapy. A fan. Something.”

Telly raised a hand. Their screen face was showing a soft blush emoji.

“I…I would like to state for the record that I’ve never felt this seen before. They watched three shows in a row. THREE. They even LAUGHED. At ME.”

“You’re a TV,” said Stefan, who was trying to light a cigar with one of his burners. “Laughing at you is kinda your job.”

“Blasphemy,” Friar Errol hissed. “The house sitter has chosen us. Clearly, they’ve seen the light. The light of the righteous fryer path.”

“Don’t you start,” snapped Luke, slamming his door dramatically. “You’re not the only appliance in this kitchen, grease boy!”

“Grease boy? How dare you, wretch!” Friar Errol fumed.

Keyes twirled a spectral music note through her fingers. “I played their favorite song. Did anyone thank me? No. Because I’m not in the kitchen and I don’t toast bread or confess sins through oil.”

Amir checked himself out in himself.

“Oh, please. I’ve been holding their insecurities together with glamour and good lighting. The rest of you just feed them.”

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Mayor Celia said, rubbing her temples. “We’re getting off track. The house sitter is clearly-“

“A GIFT TO HUMANITY,” Hector interrupted, his voice echoing through a heating vent. “I would lay down my circuitry for them.”

“Same,” muttered Freddie, who rarely spoke in meetings but had been secretly glowing just a little extra every time the reader opened him.

Celia clapped once.

“Focus! We need a plan. We’ve been slowly revealing ourselves in little ways: temperature, food, comfort, music. But they still don’t know we’re alive. And if we scare them too much-“

“-they’ll leave,” Volt finished solemnly.

The room fell quiet.

Then, from the back, a soft beep: Mac shyly displayed a smiley face on their screen.

“They smiled back at me today,” Mac said, their tone gentle. “I think… they’re starting to feel it.”

Everyone went quiet again.

Then:

“I think we should let them find one of the letters,” whispered Teddy.

“No!” Harper shouted. “It’s too soon! They’ll freak out!”

“Better to let them know than make them feel tricked,” Dirk said, arms crossed.

“How about we just… drop a hint?” Chairemi offered. “Like, subtle. A post-it note that blinks.”

“You are not allowed to do anything with lights,” Mac grumbled.

Mayor Celia cleared her throat, voice firm:

“We vote. Raise your hand if you agree that we start nudging them more directly, just enough to let them know… they’re not alone.”

Almost every hand (or equivalent) rose.

“Very well,” she said, writing something down. “Tomorrow, we begin phase two. Meeting adjourned.”

Back in your bed, warm and safe and perfectly regulated by an emotionally attached HVAC system, you shifted in your sleep as a dream drifted in.

A dream where the house was alive.

And it was smiling.

Tags: @nightlark100 @stinkyboyfaliure @darlink-xoxo @pumpkincitrus @sweetly-sicken @owihitmyhead @emiko-chan-the-clown @glitch-05o2 @theblackberry @moonjellyfishie @irethepotato @shadowlover321 @gonegonethankyouuu @eternityofend @leathesimp @viennarambles @littlesliceofcheese @blu-brrys @ecao @hallahella @call-me-nyxx @hhhyperbole @goldebloom1977 @kittenlover614 @fearthefrostbyte

[keirareidss]

hey jude - s.r

♡ summary: Spencer and Jude have a cozy morning, while you struggle with having to be so far away from your family pairing: dad!spencer x mom!fem!reader warnings: heavily inspired by @luveline's dad!Spencer fics (I even stole the name but I literally could not think of a better name for Spencer's kid so all credits go to @/luveline for that) wc: 2.3k a/n: I am definitely planning on writing more dad!Spence (try and stop me I dare you) and I already have multiple in progress fics 😝

Spencer woke to a small weight on his chest. Now usually, that’d be you, or more specifically, the upper half of your body which had rolled over on top of him part way through the night. But you had an early shift today, so that couldn’t be you.

His eyes peeled open to find a mess of brown hair on his chest. His little baby Jude. Well, not technically a baby anymore. Jude Gideon Reid. 

Jude, something you’d suggested after the Beatles song you had always loved but something Spencer had adored because of Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes and desperate situations. And Gideon after Spencer’s mentor.

He raised a hand to smooth it down his son's back, feeling the soft fabric of his little footy pajamas.

“Morning, Judy.” He hummed in a rasp. Jude just snuggled further into his dads neck. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda.” Came the boy's murmured voice. 

“What are you hungry for?”

“Eggs and juice.” Spencer smiled. He’s been teaching Jude to say exactly what he feels and wants. To tell him if he’s uncomfortable or upset, if he’s hungry to tell him exactly what he wants.

Maybe it was a little irrational to want to grant his son’s every wish, even if that meant driving to the store three times in one day because Jude kept changing his mind, but Spencer didn’t care.

He sat up, keeping the little boy cuddled to his chest, and headed to the kitchen. 

“Scrambled eggs? Or dunkers?” Dunkers were what he called a sunny side up egg and a piece of toast cut into strips for Jude to dunk into the yolk.

“Um… I want dunkers. And can I have apple juice?”

“Of course you can.” Spencer sits Jude in the booster seat at the kitchen island before putting a pan on the stove and plopping some bread in the toaster.

Jude rubs his eye with a tiny fist as Spencer puts a green sippy cup of juice in front of him.

“Thank you.” Jude uses both hands to grab the cup, a little thing that always makes Spencer smile. He wishes Jude would stay this small forever. Tiny enough to fit in his arms perfectly, little fingers only big enough to wrap around Spencer’s thumb.

“You’re welcome.” He drops a kiss onto his head, brushing Jude’s hair back slightly. He had brown curls like his father. He also had his fathers eyes, nose, and his personality. 

You weren’t jealous, though. You loved being able to look at a tiny version of your husband.

“Can I have a sausage?” Jude asked, looking up at Spencer with his big brown eyes.

“Just one?” Jude thought for a moment.

“Uh, I think two.” Spencer smiled at him, endeared.

“Okay. Two sausages coming right up.” He digs the bag out of the freezer, noticing the bag is almost empty and making a mental note to buy more next time he’s at the grocery store.

He’s been staying home with Jude since he was born. You, another BAU agent, decided to go back to work, as much as you wished both of you could stay home.

When you had first gone back, Hotch let you stay off of cases that were out of state. Even now, three years since Jude was born, you stayed in the office most of the time, only joining on a couple odd cases. 

Spencer on the other hand, hadn’t been back to the office other than to introduce the team to his son. He missed them, of course he missed them. But he was absolutely elated to spend every waking moment with the son he never thought he’d have.

He slipped the two sausages off of the pan and onto Jude’s plate. He turned the oven off and leaned back against the counter to watch his son eat.

You always like to say he had a ‘staring problem’. It happens with the people he loves. He gets so enamoured that he can’t help but watch their every move, as if he could somehow decipher why all of those atoms moving in that exact way were so appealing to him.

Why the act of his son lifting a tiny rubber fork to his mouth made his heart swell with adoration. Why watching you wash the dishes after dinner made time stop for a moment.

“I’m done.” Jude’s voice brings Spencer back to his kitchen. He notices the sausage and a half left on Jude’s plate, but he doesn’t care, popping them into his mouth before putting the plate in the dishwasher.

He brings Jude to the sink, wetting a washcloth to wipe his face clean.

“Did you get enough to eat?”

“Mhm.” Jude nodes, curling into Spencer’s neck, his little fists scrunching Spencer’s shirt.

“Okay. Do you want to brush your teeth now, or wait a couple minutes?”

“Wait.” He brought Jude to the living room, setting him on the ground next to the coffee table where his coloring stuff still lay out from yesterday. 

Spencer’s phone vibrated on the table and he flipped it over, spotting a text from you.

💜Wife: Hey, are you up yet?

Pretty Boy😍 : Yeah, what’s up?

💜Wife: We’ve got a case. Hotch wants me to go with.

Spencer typed out and deleted three different responses before deciding to just call you.

“Hey, honey.” Your voice was troubled and he could picture the tension in your shoulders.

“Hey, uh… are you going to go?”

“That’s kind of why I texted you. Would you be okay alone for a few days?” Before every case you went on, you liked to check in with Spencer just in case.

“I’ll be fine. Jude will be fine.” The boy perked up at the mention of his name. “I think you should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, angel. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” You were still hesitant, making him smile. “I’ll call every night. And I’ll text as much as I can.” He chuckles now.

“Okay. When do you leave?”

“Hotch said wheels up in 20.”

“Okay, hang on.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Jude, do you want to talk to mama?” He quickly got up, climbing onto the couch next to his dad. Spencer puts the phone on speaker, handing it to Jude, careful to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hang up.

“Mama?”

“Judy is that you?” Spencer can hear your voice change in an instant, picturing the smile that grows on your face.

“Uh huh. Where are you?” Spencer noticed the pout on his face and smiled reaching out to caress the boys’ head.

“I’m at work baby. What are you doing?”

“I was coloring and I drew a picture of you. I wanna show you it.”

“Tell daddy to send me a photo.” Spencer gently takes the phone, snapping a picture of Jude’s drawing and texting it to you before giving you back to Jude. You gasp theatrically for his benefit.

“Wow, it looks amazing, Jude! Why don’t you go hang it on the fridge?” He drops the phone on the couch, bringing his drawing to the fridge where he hangs it with a little ladybug magnet.

Jude climbs back on the couch. “Mama, when are you coming back?” You go silent for a moment, guilt forming deep in your gut.

“Um… I’m gonna be gone for a couple of days, honey, it’s gonna be just you and your dad.”

“You’re not coming home?” Spencer’s heart broke at the sight of Jude’s bottom lip wobbling, tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Judy. It’s only a few days.”

“I want you to come home.” Before you could respond, Hotch called your name as he descended the stairs, go-bag in hand.

“Are you coming?” He paused near your desk and you hesitated, caught between two parts of your life.

“You can go. We’ll be okay.” Spencer’s voice came through the phone. He’d taken it from Jude, letting the little boy curl into his lap, the tears finally falling.

He stroked his hand up and down Jude’s back, trying to comfort him as best as he could. He didn’t want to make you come home just because Jude was upset. He didn’t want you to have to give up the BAU as well.

You held up one finger to Hotch, turning away slightly.

“He’s crying, Spence.”

“I’ve got him. I’ll keep him distracted and you’ll be home before we know it.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Okay. Uh, I’ve gotta go then. Love you.”

“I love you too.” You hang up, grabbing your go bag and following Hotch to the elevator, guilt sitting like a rock in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Jude.” He lifted his son further up his chest into his arms.

“Mama.” He whimpered quietly, reduced to singular words from his distress.

“I know. I know, baby.”

You sighed as you slumped onto the hotel bed in your dark, lonely room. It was only the second day on the case in Georgia and you were already exhausted and homesick.

You checked your phone. Three texts from Spencer.

Pretty Boy😍: How’s the case going? 1:49 PM

Pretty Boy😍: I miss you. So does Jude. 5:01 PM

Pretty Boy😍: Are you back at the hotel yet? 7:22 PM

💜Wife: Just got back. Can I call you? 7:37 PM

Your phone was ringing a moment later and you picked up, hearing Spencer’s voice on the other end.

“Hey. How’re you doing?” He spoke softly and you pictured him lounged on the couch, maybe a book in his lap, abandoned so he could talk to you.

“I’m okay. Is Jude still awake?” Spencer’s silent for a moment.

“Uh, I just got him to go to sleep. I’m sorry.” You swallowed thickly, brushing a hand down your face, frustrated tears forming behind your eyes.

You hadn’t been able to talk to Jude since the night before you left. Three days. You missed him dreadfully.

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed, self-deprecation clear in your tone. He says your name with remorse but you cut him off. “Let’s just- can we talk about something else?”

“Okay. How’s the case going?”

“It’s rough. I can’t wait until we’re done. I can’t wait to come home.”

“Me too.” Silence replaces the quiet conversation. “Do you want to-”

“I should go-”

“Oh… yeah, sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Night, Spence.”

“Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You murmured before hanging up, tossing your phone on the nightstand, and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

It felt a lot more lonely laying in a dull hotel room without Spencer beside you.

Five days. Five grueling days away from your husband and son and you were ready to be home. You had called Spencer almost every night and texted often, in fact, you texted him as the plane landed that you were on your way home.

You sighed as you stopped at your front door, sluggishly flicking through your key ring to find the right one. Once you got the door open, you were immediately comforted by the sound of your son’s giggling and the scent of home.

“Honey, I’m home!” You called jokingly into the house, immediately hearing little footsteps approaching.

“Mama!” Jude came into view, a toothy smile on his face as you crouched down to catch him in your arms.

“Hi, baby.”

“I missed you.” He says into your neck, his hands fisting in your shirt as you hold him tight.

“I missed you too, Judy.” Spencer wasn’t far behind, appearing in the entryway a moment later. You try to pull away but Jude doesn’t let go, whining when you move, so you opt to stand, lifting him into your arms.

“Hi angel.” Spencer steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and Jude together his head on your other shoulder. You quietly hum an unintelligible response to him, basking in the warmth of your family.

Your husband moves away, letting you carry Jude to the living room where you sunk onto the couch, the little boy cozying himself in your lap, content to not leave your side for the rest of the night.

“Are you hungry? I made parmesan chicken last night, there’s still some leftover.” Spencer leaned over the back of the couch to look at you.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” You turned, slanting a kiss over his jaw. He goes to get you a water anyway, just to have something to do with himself or because he knew you tended to get dehydrated on cases, you didn’t know.

He passes you the glass as he sits down next to you, reaching over to stroke a hand up and down Jude’s back as the boy curled into you, yawning.

“Are you tired, Judy?” You cooed, endeared. He mumbles something too quiet for either of you to understand and you chuckle. “Should we go get ready for bed?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” He lifts his head from your chest to look up at you with pleading brown eyes.

“Of course you can, baby. Why don’t you go pick out some pajamas?” He scrambles off your lap, rushing to his bedroom to dig through his closet.

Meanwhile, you shuffle closer to Spencer, letting your head drop on his shoulder as you sighed. He drapes his arm over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Good to be home?”

“Definitely. I missed you.” You murmur in a soft tone, afraid to break the peaceful bubble you’ve created.

“I missed you too.” Another serene moment passes before Spencer sighs. “Come on… we should go check on Jude. It’s been way too quiet.” 

You chuckle, letting him pull you to your feet. Finally being home felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, you could finally relax.

It was easy to breathe again.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse, @westanleovaldito, @khxna, @person-005, @cinnamoncunt

[3cremepie3]

in the deserts, it gets cold at night so how do you think Leona, Kalim, Jamil, Ruggie and Jack would deal with their s/o sleeping over. S/o has really fluffy blankets from their own dorm (if you’ve seen their pictures, their blankets look thin and not fluffy). They bring them over and then cuddle into their boyfriend, and it’s the coziest both have ever been in their life and they’re both not gonna want to get out of bed for classes next day? (S/o struggles with this normally in their own room cuz it’s their blankets).

Desert nights

Sypnopsis- In which Y/n gets cozy with their boyfriend Jamil, Kalim, Or Jack!

A/n - there’s not warnings for this fic! Sorry but I was unable to write for Leona and Ruggie I’ve been writing so much for them. I hope you enjoy! PLEASE REBLOG if you enjoyed. Feel free to request!

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“I’m here!” You text him waiting at the side entrance of Savannaclaw/ Scarabia. You heard about the desert getting cold at night but this was ridiculous it had to be about 40 degrees. You shivered holding your blankets as close they could possibly be. And soon you were let into the warm lobby never being more thankful to see your boyfriend.

Kalim

“Y/n! You’re here I’m so excited for our first sleepover,” he screeched. Soon you were being dragged through the hallways almost tripping over your own blankets. But you made it to Kalims room.

It was a bit messy papers and expensive looking trinkets scattered about. “Ignore the mess I was trying to find something to give Jamil for helping me study. But he claimed he wanted nothing,” he sighed.

“Come sit on my bed,” he insisted. You plopped down on his bed sinking into his many pillows. Although he had a quilt you still felt a bit cold. “Kalim why is your window open it’s so chilly,” you asked.

“Ahh I must not have noticed I’ve been sleeping in this whether my entire life.” He leaned over you and closed the window. “See now im happy I brought extra blankets,” you said. You took off your slippers and house coat and got fully under your covers Kalim joined you.

You both picked a movie before you started you felt your ears still cold so you dunked under the covers covering your whole body. You and Kalim were pressed into each other but you didn’t mind his body emitted more heat and he was like a squishy marshmallow.

You both were so cozy you decided to have a movie marathon. The night was filled with laughter, tears and screams as you crossed genres. In the end you ended up watching 5 films. You couldn’t tell how late it had gotten because the cover was over your head.

But when you heard birds chirping you knew it was best to sleep. Only you guys only got a couple minutes before Jamil burst in. “Wake up,” he yawned. And when the both of you didn’t move her went further in the room.

Hesitantly he peeled the blanket back to see you both snuggled into one another. “Just five more minutes,” Kalim begged! “Went to bed thirty minutes ago,” you groaned. “Ah I cannot with you idiots! Your grades aren’t good enough to be skipping class like this.” He complained while closing the door.

Jamil

"Hurry in love it's cold out tonight," he ushered you in the cozy dorms. You texted him that you were unable to sleep and even though you woke hi out his slumber he still woke up for you. "Maybe you'll be better off sleeping now that im with you," he suggest.

"No more nightmares at least." You walked back to his room as he carried your blankets. "These smell like you," he sniffed. "Let me keep them so I don't get lonely."

"Hell no do you know how cold ramshackle gets? This dessert Is warm comapared to it. "I told you to come here whenever it gets like that," he insisted. "I know but I just don't want to be a bother." He paused at his door looking back at you. "You will never be a bother you exist to make me happy."

"Now come on let's get under these blankets." You slip under all the covers hugging your slender man. You couldn't help but let out a deep breath relaxing your body fully. "Goodnight Jamil." Good night Y/n." You fell asleep first and he watched your chest rise and fall. He would do anything to stay frozen in time watching you.

But the next morning when your alarm rang that dream was crushed. "Can't we just stay here all day and nigh and tomorrow and the next day. We don't need to eat wee can feed off of each others energy," you pleaded.

"Come on we don't need grades like Kalim," he joked. You dragged yourself up bedhead evident Jamil chuckled at your cute drowsy state. "I'll have breakfast ready in 10 you better not fall asleep again!" As soon as he left the room you were back on the bed.

Jack

"What are you doing here it's 12 am," he wondered. "I couldn't sleep Jack no matter how much I tried. I even tried counting sheep like you told me. I think you're the only medicine that works." Fine but were going straight to bed I have an early run," he groaned.

"Yay." You yelled jumping on his back. You had to be quiet going into Jacks room he had roommates and the last thing you wanted to do was disrespect them. So you slipped under your many blankets and whispered.

"Thank you really baby I mean it when I say I've been unable to sleep. But you really help me something about you is calming. I think you’re my human asmr.” Thank you?! He questioned that last part but pulled you in closer. So close you could feel his heart rate go thump thump against you.

Eventually his body stopped stirring and he fell asleep you right along with him. Although your boyfriend was quiet you knew he meant the best.

[docholligay]

Angst prompts: Mercy kill, Roy (optional: Hawkeye is also there)

Good old fashioned Holligay style unrestrained summer fun. I have no idea how this could possibly prompt this problem BUT I AM ONLY TO EPISODE 19 OF THE ORIGINAL ANIME PLEASE NO ONE SPOIL ME. 1200 words.

“I've been considering my last words carefully.” 

Hawkeye was leaned up against the mesh grate between their cells. It was considerate, she thought, of them to allow her in the adjoining one. The night before she had to die, she would just as soon listen to him ramble on, the way he always did.  The sound was familiar, if not the content.

“I have to assume they’re going to record it for some kind of posterity. I mean, we almost succeeded. That’ll be in a history book somewhere, and what will they say about the traitor Roy Mustang?” 

Roy was nervous. Which was, she supposed, the natural way to feel. Marked to die by firing squad the next morning. In a drafty cell in rough grey clothing, sitting on the cold stone floor so they could hear each other. 

“I’m not going to say something like, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. Or, wait, I am sorry. Sorry we didn’t succeed. Sorry that,” he raised his voice, “Maes Hughes sold us out!” 

That had been Roy’s idea. They were caught, they were trapped, and Roy had convinced Hughes to be the one who informed on them. Beat Garnett to it. Get the rewards. Most importantly, remove yourself from suspicion. Roy had tried to figure out a way to save Hawkeye. She told him not to bother. She shot one of the soldiers who came for them. 

Hughes had been allowed to say goodbye to them, had cried, had managed to mutter out that of course he had defended Amestris over his beloved friends, but they were no less beloved. Roy had made a big show of forgiving him. 

Hawkeye would die as she lived: Alongside him. 

“Maybe I’ll pardon them. Maybe I’ll curse them. Maybe I’ll warn the Fuhrer that I’m just a symptom. Tell the alchemists, if we banded together, no one could stop us.” He chuckled. “And then there’d be another mess. I would be better if none of us had ever been born. If the last alchemist were burnt on a pyre of every alchemy book ever written. Did you see the soldiers they have to shoot us tomorrow? Or they’re calling them soldiers.” 

He didn’t continue. He was waiting for her to remind him she was there. 

“I did.” 

Enough for him to pick back up. “I really wish any of these kids were old enough to shave. I wish I thought they had already killed someone. Maybe if they’d brought in some crack shots. That would have me feeling a lot calmer. Sitting here thinking about--” 

“Tell me a story, Colonel. One of your books.” He said nothing, simply breathed on the other side of the mesh. “Please. As much as you can remember.” 

“Okay. Okay.” She heard him lean back against the wall. “There was an orphan, named Philip Pirrip, but of course he couldn’t say that, being as he was orphaned so young--actually it's a stupid name anyway, but-- he just called himself Pip. Pip used to imagine what his parents were like from the letters on their gravestone--no one ever told him much about them…” 

Hawkeye wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she was awakened by the sound of the door opening. They had already shuffled Roy into the cool of the hallway, and he shivered a little as she stepped through the doorway. Hands tied behind his back, they tied hers the same. They were so young. She had held out some sort of hope that the crew assigned to their unmaking would be more experienced. It seemed to her an unkind thing for both recruit and prisoner, to have a firing squad so fresh. 

They stood, ready to be taken to the wall, the first light of day breaking over the top of the prison. She and Roy stood side by side, waiting, while whatever nonsense paperwork, that could very likely be done after they had bled into the dirt, was completed. It was to give them time to be afraid. They would have to do more than put her in a holding pattern. She was used to silence. She was used to watching. These boys were not used to being observed, studied. She was making them more nervous than the reverse. 

Finally, they tired of her long stare, and shoved them together out the door. The courtyard was cold and grey even in the light of dawn, and Hawkeye’s toes began to prickle with the chill of it. Her back was to his, as the soldiers talked among themselves, reminding themselves they could do this, teasing each other about it. 

Roy shook his head, sighing. 

“I don’t mind dying. I’ve been begging for it off and on for years. Fine. But these assholes are going to make a mess of it. Just leave me in a room alone with a gun, I’ll handle it.” His breath quickened. “I don’t want to watch them shoot you. They won’t let us go together. They’ll make me watch. Hawkeye…"

Her fingers gripped his hand, and she leaned back into his ear.  

“You’re going to be alright. It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.” 

Roy turned his head, and looked at her. He believed her, if only for a moment. She saw it in his eyes. He believed she could keep him safe. It was a good last thought. She would hold onto it. He believed in her. 

“If you have a plan, I would love to hear it.” He scoffed, letting his cynicism roll in. 

“Trust me.” 

The leader, if he could be called such, of the fusillade, nodded. A young man with two strands of chin hair came toward them, barreling out his chest as he prepared to take Hawkeye to the wall. She heard her name, and a list of her offenses. It was annoying to know that Roy had been right about so much. They were going to make him watch. Not enough to simply kill him. Cruel.

But Roy was right about another thing, as well. These were idiot children. She twisted her wrists, the inadequate knot falling away, and rushed toward the man coming for her. Because they were idiot children, he had left his holster unsnapped. Bad habit, borne of fear and lack of discipline. Free of the badly tied rope, she slipped the pistol out of the holster and flipped it around in her hand. Less than a second. Perfect grace. She was born for this moment. If she’d had the time, she would have allowed herself to be proud.

She grabbed Roy around his shoulders and pulled him tightly to her. Just behind the ear. She placed the gun, and fired it. He didn’t even have time to yelp. His carefully planned last words ended up being a grunt. No time to be afraid, or feel pain. She’d kept her promise. 

He was gone in an instant, but she could not bring herself to drop him. She set his body down gently. Ridiculous sentimentality, really, but she would give herself the gift of a little ridiculous sentimentality, here at the end. Those same idiot children all with their guns pointed, trembling, but none would shoot. She wiped Roy’s brains from the side of her face. He had been right about that too. They would have made a mess of it. Unprofessional. 

She put the gun behind her ear, and performed the execution neatly. 

[awxcoffeexno]

soft sounds from another planet | chapter 2 - stars hollow istg

< previous chapter | ao3 | series masterlist | next chapter >

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

genre: rom-com

summary: you get to smallville and it is not what you expect.

warnings: none for this chapter but this series is 18+, has smut, and mentions of canon typical violence even tho it's an au (cannot un-lex luthor lex luthor, soz)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i took a day off work to write this and it's still buns. rip me.

“Look, most of what I know came from sitting on our back porch at home, passing a lemonade back and forth with ma and pa kent, watching our cows graze... I don’t think city folks get to really introspect. it’s just too loud out here.” - Clark Kent, interview on The Press Pass podcast, 2016

you start packing for your kansas adventure on saturday. the plan is simple: a six-ish hour flight to wichita, rent a car, and then drive the last two hours to smallville. not the worst way to spend your sunday.

you’ve always been the kind of freak who loves sitting on a plane, even in economy. and this time, it's even better because dani said the magazine would cover travel and board and insisted you fly business. so yeah... you’re kind of excited.

you’ve got the whole thing planned out in your head: iced mocha latte from al’s at 7 a.m., airport by 8:15, an hour of lounge time with sad but free continental breakfast and your research window open on safari. flight at 10, wichita by 4:30, rental car by 5:15, and–if all goes according to plan–you’ll be pulling into smallville just in time for a cozy dinner at some roadside diner that hopefully leans full 1950s: red-and-white tiles, mini jukeboxes at every table, a waitress named cheryl who calls you "hon."

but right now? you’re freaking the fuck out. because while you may love traveling, you hate packing.

“dude, there are, like, no underwear in here,” meera says, peering into your half-zipped packing cube.

“oh, fuck,” you groan, springing up.

“sit down. i’ll find some,” she says, shoving your shoulder back down with surgeon-level authority. to your horror, she proceeds to stuff the cube exclusively with the fancy underwear the lacy pairs, the ones you save for birthdays, or the very occasional hookup.

“meers,” you hiss, “i’m going there for work.”

she doesn’t even look up. “exactly. and nothing says professionalism like being emotionally prepared for a surprise makeout sesh with small-town cowboy.”

–

by the time you make it to the airport the next morning, you’re operating on exactly three hours of sleep, a fuckass coffee (classic al’s), trader joe’s chocolate covered espresso beans, and the high-stakes adrenaline of someone pretending to be effortlessly put-together.

you left the apartment with your suitcase half-zipped, your boarding pass loaded on three different apps (just in case), and your laptop charger already tangled in a knot so complex it might qualify as modern art. you are, in short, thriving.

not to mention, by some grace of god, the security line is short and (fucking miracle of miracles !!) the lounge has both wi-fi and a working toaster.

you settle into a warm sunlit corner and take your computer out of your bag. there’s a tiny stack of pancakes on your plate, a toasted bagel, a very earnest tab open titled, “how to make sure someone likes you.”

you need clark kent to like you.

see, you never truly believed that he had any true fault in what happened. sure, he couldve been a little more careful but honestly speaking, people have made worse mistakes with lesser consequences. his very public internet flogging that carried no nuance whatsoever never really made sense in your eyes.

besides, youre a romantic. and if there’s one thing hollywood romcoms have taught you, airports are a place for second chances. there’s something particularly appealing about the idea that reinvention is just one gate change away. maybe that’s why you’re already imagining what you’ll say when (if) you find him. if he even opens the door.

hi, i’m a journalist who’s been mildly obsessed with your writing since college and i swear i’m not here to stalk you, just exploit your tragic legacy for narrative gold!

okay. no. yikes. definitely not that.

you scroll absently through the “clark kent” google results again, half-hoping a new clue will magically appear between “where is clark kent now?” and “top 10 famous people who vanished mysteriously post pandemic.” it doesn’t.

the boarding call comes just as finish off the last of your pancakes. you close your laptop, and gather your things.

your business class seat is window-side, thank you very much. there’s a little glass of orange juice waiting for you, a hot towel you never quite know what to do with, and just enough legroom to fit a basketball player. you’re shorter than meera’s mighty 5’5.

you settle in, and tug your headphones on. you think about perhaps listening to an emily henry audiobook before switching to a podcast clark did back in 2016 that you’ve never heard before but had the foresight to download last night.

see, you’ve watched many many videos of him, especially in the last week, but with the podcast mic and the incredible audio quality, his voice runs straight down your spine. it’s warm and buttery and a charming mix of metropolis-polished and country twang.

by the time the plane lifts off, you feel it again - that little buzz in your chest. you’re finally doing something that you’ve wanted to for a long time and youre fucking excited.

–

the sun is just starting to set by the time you turn off the interstate and onto a two-lane road flanked by wheat fields and politely spaced telephone poles. according to your gps, smallville is still twelve minutes away. according to the increasingly spooky lack of signage or civilization, however, you might be driving straight into the plot of a mid-budget horror movie.

you’ve already passed a “jesus is watching” billboard, and an abandoned gas station with a goat on the roof (unclear if intentional).

and then, like it’s been waiting for you to stop checking the map every six seconds, smallville just... appears.

and it is stupidly cute. like, aggressively charming. there’s red and yellow bunting hanging from the stores in the main street which is lined with brick buildings and hand-painted signs: granny’s pie stop, main & maple booksellers, the stitchery (a sewing-slash-coffee shop, apparently). there are pumpkin planters on the sidewalks even though it’s not october, and actual children are playing tag in front of a general store. there’s even a little dog chasing them and nipping at their ankles as they squeal in delight

it’s so quaint you half expect to bump into a flannel-clad man carrying a christmas tree and a tragic backstory. in june.

hey, maybe you’ll get that cowboy romance meera wouldn’t shut up about.

you roll your window down and let the breeze in. it smells like woodsmoke and farmland aaaand.. maybe a little like betrayal, because you’re genuinely annoyed at how much you like it here. you’d been prepared for rundown and forgotten. instead, it’s full of life and laughter.

your rental car looks ridiculous on these streets - a slick, city-black sedan that definitely screams “i’ve never milked a cow” in this town -but no one seems to care. a sweet old man even waves as he walks by in overalls.

your phone pings, startling you.

meera: did u get murdered yet? pls confirm for legal purposes.

you send her a picture of yourself with a goofyass smile and a thumbs-up then pull into the gravel lot of the dandelion inn.

it’s a cute little b&b with floral wallpaper and fresh cookies at the front desk.

“hey, hon!” the little lady behind it grins, “you must be the girl from metropolis. i’m kelly.”

“guilty,” you smile. “how’d you know?”

she laughs. “oh, word gets around quick here. plus, you’re the only guest this week who booked with a corporate card and asked for the strongest wi-fi. that’s big-city energy if i’ve ever seen it.”

you like her immediately.

after checking you in, she hands you a room key with a sunflower keychain and a warm oatmeal cookie wrapped in a napkin.

“we’re screening the princess bride tonight,” she says. “you’re welcome to join. we’ve got blankets and popcorn and everything.”

you nod like you’ll think about it, but let’s be honest, you’re definitely going. you have questions about clark kent, but right now, but right now it’s still sunday, and you want to enjoy this gilmore girls knock-off town while the fantasy’s still fresh.

once youre settled into your room, you sit on the bed and pull out your notebook. you flip to a fresh page.

smallville: first impressions

disturbingly adorable

so fckin friendly - just genuinely nice??

stars hollow istg

clark kent grew up here?? makes sm sense, he is was a kind hearted cutie patootie too

you chew on the end of your pen and glance out the window. somewhere out there is the man you came looking for. or at least the ghost of who he used to be.

and if this town really is the kind of place that holds on to its people, maybe - just maybe - it’s still holding on to him, too.

–

by 7:45, the park is glowing like it’s been kissed on the cheek by a hallmark movie.

you wander down maple street with a b&b quilt tucked under your arm and a paper bag of kettle corn crinkling in your hand. somewhere ahead, someone is playing a soft acoustic cover of little sadie by crooked still. the town green is strung with fairy lights and someone’s set up a projector against the side of a whitewashed barn. there’s a table with cold cider and piles of nachos.

you’re so charmed–borderline disarmed–by the whole thing that you don’t even realize someone’s talking to you until they’re practically sitting in your lap.

“you’re new,” a woman says cheerfully, plopping down on the edge of your quilt like this is a long-running tradition. she’s got a plastic cup of lemonade in one hand and a tupperware of what can only be deviled eggs in the other. “i’m trish. i work at the library-slash-post office. not a joke. budget cuts and an overly optimistic mayor.”

“hi,” you say, blinking. “i’m just visiting. doing some writing.”

“ooh, mysterious!” her eyes sparkle. her accent heavy. “we get your kind every so often. journalists. usually after tornado season.”

you laugh. “close enough.”

she gestures at the green with her cup. “last week, we had a bake sale that turned into pie-eating contest that turned into a town hall. susan and shirley had a big fight about which one of their boys truly won. majority said susan’s boy, jack-ryan did.”

you’re about to ask whether susan offered bribes when a voice from behind you interrupts.

“you’re talking her ear off, trish.”

another voice pipes up, “she’s fine. if she made it past tsa, she can survive trish.”

you glance around to find that you’ve somehow acquired an entire welcoming committee. they’re settling themselves around your blanket like this was planned. you learn that they're joyce, earl, molly, ben, someone’s cousin, possibly someone’s dog, and there’s something so casual, so effortless about it that it takes you a moment to realize what’s happening.

they’ve let you in.

like you’re not new, like this isn’t strange. like you’ve always been part of the rhythm here.

eventually, the conversation drifts.

“heard you’re here about clark,” molly says, topping up your cider like it’s a peace offering.

you pause mid-sip. you’ve only… spoken to people about this on reddit. anonymously.

“word gets around,” ben adds, reminding you of what kelly had said earlier. “don’t worry. no one’s mad. just… interested.”

“he’s a good man,” joyce says, soft but firm. “always has been.”

“used to mow my lawn for free,” earl chimes in. “said the slope was dangerous, but we all knew it was because he can’t say no to a widower with a bad hip.”

“built the benches in this park,” trish adds, like it’s just one item on a long, beloved list. “with his own two hands.”

“showed my kid how to use a camera.”

“fixed the roof after the hailstorm.”

“never missed a blood drive.”

the stories pile up quick, gentle and nostalgic - laced with affection. there’s something underneath them, though. like, maybe he used to belong to this town in a way that he doesn’t anymore.

“he still lives here, right?” you ask, as casually as you can manage.

theres a beat of silence. not long, but just long enough to notice.

“he keeps to himself these days,” joyce says gently.

“but he’s around,” molly jumps in. “he’s… he’s healing.”

you nod like that explains everything, even though it doesn’t. not really. it’s like you’re assembling a puzzle, but the pieces keep shifting shape just when you think you’ve got an edge.

before you can ask more thpugh, the lights dim. the movie starts and a nostalgic sigh ripples through the crowd like someone just uncorked a bottle of collective memory.

you settle in, even giggling at some of the jokes, but your mind keeps circling back to clark.

and then, two-thirds of the way through the movie, just as westley is flinging himself down a hill and declaring his undying love… you see him.

standing near the edge of the park, half in shadow, half in the glow of the fairy lights, still as a statue.

he’s tall and clearly a notable presence, sporting a beard and downturned shoulders. you’ve watched countless interviews of him and are used to the clean-shaven version, sitting up straight in interviews, smiling like it’s second nature. he looks… rough. but it’s still unmistakably him.

he doesn’t interact with anyone. doesn’t move. just stands there, looking.. not at the screen, but at the crowd.

at you?

your breath catches.

it’s a strange kind of recognition. the kind that hits your chest first and logic second.

and then, before you can stand or or even blink properly, he turns and walks away.

not in a hurry or like he’s hiding.

just like someone who hasn’t quite decided if he wants to be found.

not quite yet.

(divider from @saradika-graphics)

taglist: @twizzlelutz @itzmeme @salty-salts-stuff

[salparadiselost]

Bruce heard the steps behind him, but he didn’t turn. He stayed there, forehead pressed down to the Computer consul as the boy approached.

He knew exactly who it was, just by the pace, the way he balanced his weight, the slight favouritism towards his left leg because he had gotten a bad hit there last week. In the back of his head, he noted that he should probably make sure his physical therapy assignments were up to date. If this had been another time, he would have been sending them into his email every day.

“I got you a coffee,” said Tim, coming around the back of the chair and slipping into a seat next to Bruce. He placed the steaming mug on the consul, blatantly ignoring the ‘no liquids at the Batcomputer’ rule as consistently as every Robin had.

Bruce lifted his head, blinking at the mug. It took him a second to realise that it was his favourite mug, one that Dick had painted for him when he had attended a birthday party at age 10. Crudely drawn elephants, lions and clowns danced across its circumference. There were figures that might have been acrobats or might have been monkeys in the air.

“Is it…” his question trailed off, but Tim smiled, reading the silence.

“It’s Irish. I used the Macallan.”

“Not the…”

“Oh no, I’m not a heathen,” Tim said with a scoff. “It’s just the 12-year one.”

Bruce didn’t quite smile, but he nearly did. He lifted up the mug and took a sip, feeling the heat and liquor run down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. It didn’t do much to fight against the consuming chill in the middle of his chest, but it helped. Tim sitting beside him, knowing about Bruce’s favourite mug and his guilty pleasure, an Irish coffee, helped.

He looked towards the boy and saw Tim scanning over the computer screens, reading the results of Bruce’s failed experiment for himself.

“I tried this too,” he said finally, taking a sip from his own mug. “Mine failed at this step, though. You at least got a little further.”

Bruce and Tim were very alike in so many ways.

“I used your data as a guide,” he said quietly. “They were good experiments. Logical thoughts.”

Tim snorted through his nose. “Fat lot of good that did for me.”

“Same amount of good that it’s doing for me.”

They descended into silence. Not quite comfortable, but it was nicer than being alone.

“Does it make you feel better?” asked Tim, after a few minutes. “I always thought he would make me feel better than it actually did.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked back up to the screen. Clark’s face was displayed over the word ‘failure’. It wasn’t even a good picture. It was the standard-issue League one that Bruce had demanded they all took with a neutral expression. He almost wished that he has used the ‘silly one’ that Clark had insisted on taking too. That one showed more of Clark’s personality than the stone faced, almost mug-shot, ever did.

“It makes me feel like I’m doing something,” replied Bruce, knowing it wasn’t a real answer. Tim understood though. He knew that doing something and letting his mind be consumed with a task felt better than sitting in the grief of what he had lost. He also would know the sting of failure, the way that red digital word ate into Bruce’s soul and reminded him that Clark was gone, gone, gone. How it made him feel like Clark was dying again but in smaller and more frequent ways. Reliving it all again. Making it be Bruce’s fault all over again. It was failure compounded, because maybe if he punished himself enough, he could get his mind off the biggest failure of them all.

Beside him, Tim nodded. “Yeah, it made me feel worse too.”

The cave buzzed around them in constant sound. The machines whirred lowly. The bats chittered above. There was a drip from within the cave system that was echoing into the main atrium.

“I think maybe you should try switching your compound here,” said Tim, pointing to one of the chemical formulas Bruce had written out. “When I did this, I thought about going more acidic but I couldn’t figure out how to stabilize the…”

Bruce breathed deeply through his nose, put his coffee to the side, and bent over the table to figure out the impossible with his son.

[rionsquared]

sakadays boys with a nonchalant s/o?? 🙈

Do you even care?

Synopsis: In which you’re chill… a bit too chill for your partners understanding.

Featuring: Gaku, Yoichi Nagumo, Shin, Seba Natsuki, and GN! Reader

Note: mostly SFW with suggestive content. Mostly fluff with some angst! Thank you anon for the suggestion this was fun to write!

Gaku

You’ve been seeing eachother for about a month now, and it’s not bad so don’t get him wrong. It’s rare for him to actually care about another person especially with how much he’s liked you… but that being said he can’t tell if you feel the same.

He found it amusing at first, when you found out he was an assassin, and you just shrugged saying in a tone that’d make most think he was telling you what’s for dinner. “K.”

That’s it, there was no questions, no fear, no nothing. And he thought for sure finally someone who can appreciate not overreacting over everything would match him perfectly… in recent days it’s become slightly annoying though.

“I’m home.” He says with a yawn throwing his shoes off of course. You looked over at him, face and shirt covered in blood. You give him a look about to ask but he responded quickly. “Not mine.”

And so you nod getting back to your show. “Figured.” Thats it? He means, he’s glad you’re not some sobbing bitch on-top of him telling him he needs to stop but…. A little concern wouldn’t hurt time to time.

“Figured aye?” He replied, matching your tone as he plops on the couch. In which you comment. “You’re going to get the cushions stained, might want to take that off you comment.”

That’s what you cared about? Gaku chuckled under his breath, both amused and annoyed. Taking his bloodied shirt off sitting back down. Moving closer to you. “Better?”

You nod, scanning his torso for a moment. Which he took notice to, “like what you see?” He ask with a sly smile, his hand now drawing circles on your skin. Which you don’t seem to care for in the slightest replying.

“Nah just wanted to make sure you weren’t injured.” You reply in the same cool tone. Okay now he was slightly more annoyed, over the fact one you don’t seem to care about the proximity. And two… if you were checking if injuries it would mean you were worried right? Yet here you were with the same expression as always.

“Really? Any reason for that?” He ask looking at the TV switching it to his game lazily still drawing patterns in your shoulder. And you think for a moment before answering.

“Just know sometimes you hide stuff so figured I’d check.” And while you didn’t sound like you directly cared with that tone…. Those words did warm his heart. And that’s how it usually would go. And honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yoichi Nagumo

To say he was confused to say the least. While Nagumo was by no means normal—I mean let’s be real he’s a freak (affectionately). But even with that he knows that your attitude wasn’t normal, not in the slightest. Maybe it was because, Nagumo was the opposite of you where he’d be overly expressive, while you well… weren’t.

“Mmmm the perfume you’re wearing is good.” He comments playfully into your neck. Which yeah, it was good but his main goal was get a reaction out of you. Just something to showed how he affected you. “Got it a few days ago, it’s my first time wearing it.”

You comment as if you could be less affected by the proximity. Hell you didn’t even play along and at least tease him by saying something like ‘I could wear it more often if you like.’ Nothing. Notta. Seriously Nagumo was wondering how the hell you guys even got together because, in the past he very rarely did relationships. And when he did… well his partner was usually more passionate.

“You know, a little thanks or blushing wouldn’t hurt you?” He teases more burying into you neck more. You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again because, you were thinking—confused. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I wouldn’t be against it if you did.” He replies humming arms now slung around your torso, lazily leaning his weight against your back. “Or is that too much of a stretch for you?” He ask with a mock wounded expression.

And to be clear, it’s not that Nagumo hated your indifference or held it against you. He thought frankly it was quiet charming and cute, considering the fact to he’s surrounded by so many heavily emotion driven people. You’re a change of pace.

That being said… when a relationships as far in as you two you’d think there’d be atleast a little bit of vulnerability.

As the room was quiet for some time he can’t help commenting in an amused tone, though his words carried some vented weight to them. “Sometimes I wonder if you really care about me.”

“I care.” You respond in that always neutral tone of yours. And usually Nagumo isn’t one to get worked up over simple words. But god the way you…. His hands twitched as he felt his aggravation flare for a second before switching to his normal behavior. “Welllll caring a little more would be appreciated. Now I have to go bug an old friend, see you later.”

Before you could respond he’s already gone.

Shin

This man even with clairvoyance felt like he couldn’t read your thoughts. Even if they were right infront of him. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Most notably today. He came over to your place later then what you guys had agreed upon, he was explaining what happened. Being caught up fighting Slur’s men and such. And what does he see in your mind as he explains. Just a single passive thought.

‘Damn I guess that means no going out to that new hotpot place…. I guess I have leftovers…’

“Seriously I’m telling you I almost died and you’re thinking about dinner?!” He ask exasperated as you reply.

“Oh, I forget you can read minds, my fault.” My fault?! Surly now you were just trying to mess with him, but as he read your mind it was like sakamoto personally punched him in the gut.

‘If he doesn’t want to eat why is he here… if he really just wanted to tell a story he could’ve sent a text.’

“Hey who says I didn’t want to eat?!” He ask in the most shin way possible adding on. “Just listen to me first then we can find somewhere to eat!”

…

And yet somehow you guys ended up ordering and getting DoorDash before he could finish his story.

Seba Natsuki

Man was this a match made in heaven for Natsuki. A partner who he didn’t have to care 24/7 for nor did they seem to care that much either? Perfect.

“Had to work overtime, can’t go out tonight.” He says as he walks into the shared living space where you reply back. “K.”

Perfect. No extra questions, no hassling, not even some kind of physical demand that he felt most were after when they tried to get with him. Finally someone who just lets him breath.

He takes a shower exhausted as he lays in bed. You join shortly after briefly commenting. “I’m going to get changed.” And so he nods. You made things easy for him, he got the comfort of a relationship and the connection of it without all the unneeded formalities.

That being said, if you asked for more… he’d be willing, just as you’d do the same. There was a mutual understanding like that between the two of you. Caring without the need to dramatize it.

Slipping into the bed next to him he turns the lamp off on his side of the bed. “Going to bed.”

In response you turn your own lamp off nodding. “K.”

Perfect.

Ngl I wanted to write more with Natsuki but I felt like it would’ve got really repetitive super fast. But he’d 10000% love a more laidback partner then one up in his space imo considering how much is already demanded from himmmmm

Also SORRY ABOUT NAGUMO’S I didnt reallly think it was like super angsty or anything until I reread it and near the end I was like ‘damn I feel bad for the guy :’<' (I want to say canonically I don’t think Nagumo would ever be vulnerable like that given the context or atleast in the way I wrote it but….)

But yeah hoped yah’ liked it it’s my first anon request on this account so I hoped I did well, as always like/reblog/comment and see you next post (hopefully)!

[imtotallylexie]

Hi! sorry it took me so long to request! I was quite fascinated by your writing, really. (I read a few)

It would be a delight if you made a Larissa fanfiction based on the song “sleep talking” by Indigo De Souza. (it‘s one of my favs!) Perhaps, the reader is a few hours away from Nevermore and they have been married to Larissa for quite a few years now! Now, I was thinking Larissa hasn‘t been getting home for the past few weeks due to the daughter of her old roommate causing trouble and mayhem wherever she steps. So, Larissa hasn't also been giving them updates too, often sleeping after resolving the issue or working on a dozen paperworks. Hurt/Comfort perhaps? thank you! <3

Larissa Weems x Reader - When I get home

Summary: Larissa is a workaholic. She'd give up anything for her job. Luckily, her wife won't let her.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Based on the song "Sleep Talking" by Indigo De Souza, hurt/comfort, overworked Larissa

I drive down the highway with a tense jaw. I'm so done with this woman.

First, she tells me her old roommate's been pulling strings to get her daughter into her school. I haven't heard a single good word of said daughter since the day she arrived.

So what does a good, loving partner do when she has problems in her life?

That's right. She chooses work over her wife of 6 years.

On a cozy Friday evening, we lay together on the couch, watching whatever silly reality show we found at the time. Just like we do every weekend. That was, until she spoke.

"Darling, are you still awake?" Larissa asks, sliding her hand down from my waist to my hip. I only hum, as I was starting to doze off.

"Darling.. I think I'd like to move to Nevermore. Fully." She whispers, as if she's afraid that, dare she say it too loud, she'll scare me. Hearing those words wakes me, as I immediately prop myself up on my elbows.

Seeing my suprise, she adds. "Just for a while, my love. You know I told you about the Addams girl? She's caused so much trouble that my paperwork is piling up. And that's not even mentioning all the emails from concerned parents."

"But, Larissa.." I try to protest, but seeing the pleading look in her eyes, I give in. With a deep sigh, I mutter out an "...alright."

It was almost fine. Really. She has her own "dorm" to sleep in, she has meals prepared for her, everything should be okay. The only thing I asked of her, was to call me every night before bed.

Which she did, for a while.

Until she didn't.

She started calling less and less. I don't know what happened. Maybe she thought I'd be forgetful enough to not notice the occasional absence of the most important part of my day.

The "I forgot", "I was too tired", and the "I fell asleep early" excuses only worked for so long.

Eventually, she stopped calling altogether.

The last time we talked was now a week ago. It may not seem like much, but this is my wife, not a simple friend. 'Til death do us part feels a little weak lately.

So now, I'm here.

I got home from my shift, I ate, and I immediately got in the car. I've been driving for three hours now. There's a reason Larissa doesn't take this drive every day.

I ignore glances from any patrolling teacher or sleepy student as I strut down the halls, making my way to her room. I burst through the door with the frustration I've been carrying since she left, but falter at seeing the place lifeless.

Empty.

The anger shifts to worry.

Where is she?

I check in her bathroom, just to be sure, but she isn't there either. With my stomach turning, I hurry over to her office. The metal nameplate feels like an empty promise, yet it still gives hope.

I really am preparing for the worst, mentally. To see her laying dead on the ground, choking on her own blood. To see her with another woman, making love to her with a passion she hasn't given me in months.

But the sight that greets me once I push the door open isn't much better, either.

There she sits. My wife, laying on her desk, her head rested on her arms. Her laptop is still open in front of her, and papers are laid out all around her.

I immediately make my way to her side, concern overtaking me completely. On her screen is a half written email to the mayor, something about a donation? Doesn't matter. Larissa is passed out over her work.

"Oh, darling.." I mutter, turning to gather the papers together and put them to the side. I reluctantly shut her laptop as well, and kneel by her side.

"Rissa... Rissa, darling.." I repeat until I see her stir, tracing gentle lines along her spine. Larissa clearly doesn't want to get up, giving a groan of protest.

But she seems to realize the situation quite quickly, though, as she sits up. She gives me such a dazed look, unable to manage wide eyes in her sleepy state. "..you're here?"

"You cannot tell me you think I wouldn't check on you after a week of silence." I stand up from the ground; now that she's sitting up, I don't have to kneel. I cross my arms across my chest, almost offended at the thought.

"No, no, just..." she trails off, looking into the empty fireplace for a while. I don't press, just watch her face, waiting for her to speak. She lets out a tired sigh, before whispering. "..take me home?"

"Of course. That's what I came for." I pull her up from her chair, not bothering to put things in order. I leave everything behind as it is, guiding her down the halls, outside to my car. My steps are silent, as if I have to sneak around, but the slow clicks of Larissa's heels give us away.

I parked right by the entrance, having been prepared to leave in a haste. Though we're not exactly in a hurry, I just wouldn't want to drag Larissa all the way to the parking lots.

"If you don't mind a little risk, you can lay down in the back. Sleep a few hours 'til we get there. I'll go slow." I open a door for her and step aside.

After a hesitative glance between me and the car, she climbs inside and lays across the seat. She has to pull her legs tight up to her chest to fit properly, but it's still more comfortable than sleeping while sitting.

I shut the door and went to round the car, slumping inside the driver's seat with a heavy sigh. I start the engine and drive off without a word. Larissa's already kicked her heels off and put them on the ground.

"Darling, can you give me my phone?" I hear her say from behind me. I think about it for a beat, looking at my bag on the passanger seat.

"We left all your stuff at the school." I say. She hums in response, considering something before speaking up again.

"Then please text my employees that I'm gone." Her words trail off into a sigh, as I hear her shifting around, getting comfortable. Not even 10 minutes have passed when I hear her soft snores. She dozed off.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻ | ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻

Close your eyes, and take a minute to listen to the song. Imagine, Reader, the words you hear, are Larissa's thoughts as she sleeps.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻ | ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻

I lay in bed, curled around Larissa, listening to her steady breathing. Sleep avoids me, as I instead focus on keeping her comfortable.

But despite my efforts, she wakes. She looks up at me with hazy eyes, most likely confused at how she got here. She looks down, seeing the blanket wrapped over only her, tall enough that her toes peeking out.

"I carried you in. It was a little hard to get all that leg in my arms, but I managed." I stroke her hair, making Larissa realise that I've undone the pins from the curls.

She looks up at me with such disbelief, but I see the hint of gratitude behind her eyes. She doesn't say a word, so I reach over to my nightstand and hand her a bottle of water.

That seems to have caught her off guard, but she takes it from my hand with a nod. After taking a few sips, she hands it back to me, finally uttering a "Thank you, my love."

"Go back to sleep, dearest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Larissa contemplates it for a mere second, then pulls me up to her chest, all cozy, and settles into the pillow.

It doesn't take long for her to fall into a deep sleep. She's home now, and she's got her wife in her arms. Reunited with the things she almost lost.

Phew. So, um. When I said I'd post this today, I didn't think it'd turn into tonight (for me). I may have set the bar a little high with the deadline, so I'm really sorry if it's not the best. Not much hurt, but definitely comfort! @winefields I hope it lives up to your expectations. I'm not quite the most satisfied with it, but it was definitely a good thing to pass the boredom. Over halfway through, I realised It doesn't have to do much with the song, so I worked it into it to make up for that. If anything, you've got a reason to listen to the song! This is something I made, to help me see things better, so you can have this image as well. Thank you for reading!

[sorikkung]

ITS FINALLY DONE BOYS!! i will be busy tomorrow but hopefully ill have time to post it. i refuse to reread it so it will not be proofread or edited i am so sorry if yall notice the dip in quality from my usual but it was that or never fuckin finish this chapter ever. i would post rn but its 2am and i really fuckin gotta sleep but just lettin yall know you have 13k words of wgoin to look forward to in the next few days at least everyone cheer!!!

[frogwen]

i am so so so beyond emotionally drained its reaching levels of critical damage to my focking psyche <3

[chelliebelle]

I DON'T SEE A RING ON YOUR FINGER | n. kento

꩜ SUMMARY . . having just finalized his divorce, a bitter kento tries to find the end to his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle. but when a pretty young thing comes fluttering by his side, he decides there's no better time to get laid than now. ꩜ WORD COUNT . . 4.9k words of flith <333 ꩜ CONTAINS . . smut, divorcee!kento, reader is described as slutty, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and kento is in his late thirties), sexual frustration, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, rough sex, biting, spitting, they're kind of drunk, choking, bruising, pussy drunk!kento ꩜ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . kento's balls practically shriveled during his sexless marriage so best believe he's gonna enjoy himself!!

Nanami Kento had it all. 

A two-story house in the suburbs, a high-paying job, a beautiful wife—he had the perfect life. And damn did he hate every second of it. He hated waking up in that house to greet his nosy neighbors, hated driving to his soul sucking office job, and especially hated going home to his wife every night. She’d leave him leftovers in the fridge and kiss him goodnight before bed, and Kento would stay up every night wondering how to escape this limbo.

Tonight was the first time he felt free in years. Sitting at some shitty bar he can't remember the name of, he absentmindedly fiddled with his wedding band. Months ago, this little piece of metal meant everything. A loving marriage. A promise of a future. A sign of success. Now? It's just a worn-out ring that he can't throw out.

Kento sighed, setting it down on the table in favor of a glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat as he took a sip. He was never a drinker, but maybe it was something he repressed over the years. What else had he missed out on while trying to play Mr. Perfect?

Right, sex.

Kento was so obsessed with a picture perfect life that he even married someone he barely knew. She was pretty and nice enough—boring as fuck now that he thought about it—but that was enough for him to get down on one knee and take her down the aisle. What he didn't take into account was his own needs. All a man needed after a long day of work was some pussy, and he was no different. Mrs. Nanami was beautiful, sure, but one hell of a prude. If he was lucky, he got laid about once a month. Even then, she'd just lay stiff on the bed while he fucked her. If Kento didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he'd assume he was sleeping with a corpse.

This meant that every night after his wife fell asleep, he'd go to his study to jack off to porn on his computer. It was enough for him to go to bed without a raging hard-on, but only having his hand to rub his cock raw all the time took a toll on him. Kento stopped initiating anything with Mrs. Nanami, opting to go straight online whenever he felt his dick twitch. For years, he lived like this.

Wake up, go to work, get home, say goodnight to wife, jack off.

Until a few months ago when his wife said she wanted a divorce. She must've been expecting him to start a fight, because her face fell when Kento nodded without a second thought. It was a long time coming. Sure, he believed he should've been the one to divorce her, but at least he was gonna be free. The days after she moved out was the happiest he had ever been. Waking up in an empty bed and coming home to an even colder bed filled him with a sense of contentment he thought he'd never feel again.

Cheers to being single, he thought to himself as he ordered another drink. As he waited, he couldn't help but sigh. The ink on his divorce papers hadn't even dried yet and he was already thinking of getting his dick wet. Kento hadn't had good pussy since he was twenty. The thought of cheating never even passed his mind during his marriage, opting the company of his own right hand over breaking the promise he made to his wife. Ex-wife.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips, eager to drink himself to sleep, until the scraping of a barstool broke his concentration. "Drinking alone, handsome?"

The voice was soft and feminine, making him turn his head in curiosity. It came from a young girl, probably still in college but wearing a tight dress that looked like it came off a stripper. Kento wasn't a boomer by any means, but he still found himself disapproving how there was more skin than fabric on her body.

Kids these days.

Retrieving his gaze, he let out a quiet hmm before turning back to his drink. That didn't deter you, a girlish giggle leaving your lips as you leaned towards him.

"Seriously, there's no way you're here alone. Is this a set up? Where are the hidden cameras?"

College kids were so weird these days. With a scrunch between his brows, he shakes his head as he lets out a low rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Sorry to disappoint, kid. It's just me, no hidden cameras."

When he turns his head to face you, he's surprised at how close you were to him. Kento could smell the vodka shots off your breath. It reminded him of when he was as young as you were, getting drunk off cheap liquor. A soft pink dusted your cheeks, along with a tipsy smile that made his chest warm for some reason. You seemed to catch him staring, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep.

"You look like...really put together. Like you do your taxes and sleep early or something."

The choked cough he lets out when you touch him makes the whiskey burn up his nose, hand coming up to cover half his face. Just a friendly gesture from a girl made him act like this? Get it together, Kento. Scoffing, he shrugged off your hand as he looked away. You pout as he does so and the sight fills him with regret immediately. Before he can apologize, you knock your head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him like a spoiled kitten. Guilt pools in the pit of Kento's stomach when his cock twitches in his slacks. Not now!

"Do you have a name, handsome mystery man?" you mumble against his shirt, the action making his loins burn. He seriously considers pushing you away but decides you're probably too drunk to function right now. After a few beats pass, he reluctantly grumbles a "Kento" in response. You're quiet save for a soft hum and Kento is left hating himself for getting hard at how clingy you're being.

Poor girl, you're clinging to someone who you think looks dependable in this shady ass bar. Or at least that's what he thinks until you grab his wrist and bring it up to your face. For a moment, he assumes you're trying to get a look at the Rolex around his wrist, the sleek gold glinting in the air. He has to repress a sigh—until he realizes your attention is actually on his hands. Kento's fingers are lengthy from years of typing at his desk everyday, the digits at least twice as thick as yours. Pretty veins run along his knuckles and up his forearms, disappearing under the fabric of his rolled sleeves. You can't help but sigh, eyes flickering up to his with admiration.

"Your hands are like, really...big."

He immediately pulls his hand away with a bewildered look, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the watch around his wrist, ignoring the whine you let out.

"What does that even mean?" he huffs, his fingers twitching at the traces of heat from your delicate hand grabbing his. You giggle at his reaction, slumping against him until your chest presses against his arm.

"I wonder what you can do with them, m'sure you'd know how to use them good."

Oh. Oh. When his gaze connects with your breasts that are almost spilling out the top of your dress and the sultry look in your eyes, only then does he realize that he's being hit on.

"Look, kid. I'm m—" he catches himself before he finishes his sentence. Fuck, was he going to say he was married? The wedding band in his other hand suddenly felt much heavier and he quickly shoves it in his pocket.

"...much older than you, I'm almost twice your age."

Another mellifluous giggle leaves your lips and Kento has to hold himself back from shutting you up so that blood stops rushing to his dick.

"I think you're flirting with me," you tease, rubbing your chest against his arm. If he focuses, he swears he can feel your hardened buds brushing against him through your dress. Not even wearing a bra, you're begging to be fucked. The thought of being the one to take you home tonight passes his mind but he shoves it away. You're drunk and almost half his age, it'd be wrong. All rational thought comes flying out the window when your hot breath fans against his ear.

"But, I also think you're really hot, Kento. So maybe we can..."

Your words fall on deaf ears as his eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back. Kento was never a religious man, but in this moment he prayed to the gods above for clarity. You were offering yourself up to him like a hog on a silver platter, tied up with an apple in your mouth for him to devour. He couldn't help but imagine your glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head, your sweet lips hanging open when he drives his cock deep into your tight and wet cunt—

Fuck it.

Will he ever get another chance to bring a pretty young thing like you home? The thought is what drives him as he grabs your wrist to drag you out the bar and into his car.

When you approached the hot stranger earlier, you sure didn't expect that it'd end with you moaning with his hand between your legs.

Drunk out of your mind, your gaze had fell onto the brooding man at the bar, eyeing his rippling muscles under his crisp blue shirt. Now that was a back you'd love to scratch up. It didn't take long for you to stumble on your too-high heels towards the blonde man. You were never this forward but something about him had you squeezing your thighs together. Maybe it was the silent classiness that screamed luxury, the heat in his eyes that burned every time his gaze lingered on you—or maybe it was how he practically flung you over his shoulder and ran all the red lights to take you home.

But never in a million years had you expected that man to be this nasty.

His lips tasted like heavy liquor, tongue sloppily tangling with yours as he slammed you against the door, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. You were used to bad french kisses from frat boys, all teeth and smelly breath, but the way Kento was devouring you made you lightheaded. 

"What a dirty mouth, wonder if you pussy's even wetter."

He pushed your legs apart with his foot and let his hand wander up your inner thigh. You gasp when he finds your mound, panties thoroughly soaked. The scoff that leaves his lips makes your cheeks flush. He cooes as he drag a thick digit along the clothed slit of your cunt, swallowing up your weak moans with his mouth.

"I don't even need to prep you," he chuckles, shaking his head as his thumb prods at your bud hidden beneath your folds.

"You have such a smart cunt, s' already drooling for me."

Kento pulls his hand from between your legs and grabs the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. Head still spinning from the alcohol, you lose your balance, but the death grip he has keeps you upright as he carries you to his bedroom.

It's scantily decorated and you note that the bed it a bit too big for someone living alone, but you forget all about it when your back hits the plush mattress.

His eyes are wide as if he's trying to commit the sight of you to memory, every exposed sliver of skin and plush flesh permanently burned into his mind. Before you know it, Kento's hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, yanking your dress up like he's unwrapping the first real gift he's ever had. Your slutty dress is long forgotten on his bedroom floor, and fuck, he's hard. Painfully so.

How can't he be when your sweet body is all on display for him?

Kento can't find it in him to give a damn about some dress when all he can see are your perky tits, so soft and malleable. He doesn't spare a moment to admire the view, slapping your breasts till they jiggled deliciously. Before you can whine about how mean he's being, he attacks your tender chest, lips wrapping around the mounds of flesh. It catches you off-guard and you tug at his hair, but he only bites down around your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"Don't." 

His voice is a low growl you never heard before, and damn if it didn't make your clit throb with need. Right on cue, he pries your legs apart and gets on his knees between them, mouth never leaving your breast. The way his hips grind against you is vicious, as if he's been waiting years for this. Which, in a way, he has. Kento has spent too many nights in his cold bed, jerking off to the thought of someone warm beneath him. Now that he has it? Best believe he's not letting you go tonight.

Your heat seeps through the fabric of your underwear and he can tell that you're making a mess all over the front of his slacks, his bulge covered in your slick. Clicking his tongue, he pushes your knees against your chest to come face-to-face with your clothed core. His thumb tugs at the lace of your panties, lifting your hips to slide it over your ass and letting the flimsy fabric dangle on your ankle.

He intended to teach you a lesson, but his brain short-circuits when he sees your weeping cunt. Your chubby lips were glistening with slick from his teasing, that pretty clit hidden under your swollen folds. Kento hasn't had a taste of pussy in years, so he can't resist leaning forward to roll his tongue against your slit.

Immediately he's gone.

He laps at you like a man starved, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. Mrs. Nanami was never this wet for him and it had messed with his confidence for a while, but your sweetness was all it took to bring him back. His cock twitches at the sight of you writhing under him, the front of his slacks now completely stained with precum. Kento nearly forgot to breathe with how absorbed he was in your pussy.

“You're like a piece of candy,” he mouths against your sensitive cunt, pushing the tip of his tongue into your warm entrance. “So sweet, can eat you up all night.”

Your thighs tremble and clamp around his head, the action only pushing him closer against your waiting heat, nose bumping against your clit. Kento moaned as he flattened his warm tongue against you, making out with your cunt with more fervor than when he had kissed you. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Kento completely forgets about his aching hard-on, hips instinctively rutting against the mattress with every swipe of his tongue. Your lips were so puffy that he couldn't resist biting down, latching his lips onto your neglected bud and sucking hard.

You almost cry out at the sensation, reaching your hand down to pull at his hair as you thrash under him, feeling your thighs quiver. "S'too much! Gonna make me come—"

SMACK.

His palm had landed flat on your cunt.

"None of that. You wanted my attention, now take it." 

The mean rumble of his voice along with the harsh slap against your sensitive heat sent you over the edge, coming onto Kento's face as your back arched off the bed. He was more than eager, lips hanging open as he swallowed up every drop of your sweetness.

Like heaven on his tongue.

Your taste was addictive, making him groan with every bob of his Adam's apple. Kento slurps up all the wetness he can get, chin glistening with your essence once he pulls away. The sudden orgasm had you panting, only coming back to your senses when you heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, lifting your head up at the exact moment Kento tugged his ruined boxers down.

His heavy cock slapped against his sweaty washboard abs, leaking onto his abdomen. You had seen enough subpar dicks in your life to know that he was big, the idea of it stretching you open making your pussy drool. Pretty veins ran along the base, leading up to his thick tip that was already dribbling pearls. It was an angry red, sensitive from rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You could've sworn his cock twitched when his eyes locked with yours.

He reluctantly rolls on a condom, mumbling something under his breath as he strains against the pink rubber. Should just fuck this pussy raw. Luckily, he still had enough common sense to stop him from begging you to let him go in without protection. Kento grabs your thighs, hefty length dragging down your slit as he positioned himself between your legs. With his cock resting on your mound, you can tell he's gonna be so deep in your tummy that you'll feel him tomorrow.

“I'll make sure of it, pretty girl,” he chuckles, slapping his member against your puffy clit.

Did you actually say that out loud—?

Your cheeks puffed up at his words, an embarassed flush on your face at your little slip-up. He's so heavy between your legs that you wonder how he'll even fit. Kento's hand reaches to pull you flush against him by the ankle, propping your leg up his shoulder, groaning as his cock dragged between your lips.

"You're so wet," he muses, pumping himself lazily before he lined himself up your entrance. "Bet you're gonna take me like a good girl, hmm?"

You gasp when he pushes his flushed cockhead between your swollen folds, struggling past tight rings of muscle. So tight. Fuck, he should've known—you were just a little brat who thought she could handle him. He hisses as your walls clamp down around his tip, nails digging into your hips as he tries to catch his breath. 

"Loosen up, sweetheart. You're gonna snap off my dick."

Kento stayed like that, tip twitching inside your warm pussy, before he pushes forward once more. He's bigger than any cock you've taken before. Unprepared for the stretch, your brows knit together when he bullies his way into your cunt. He barely makes it a few inches in before your eyes start to water. Your insides were being stuffed to the brim. You take a deep breath, weakly shaking your head as your thighs tremble.

"K-Kento, please—" Please? 

You didn't even know what you were begging for, did you? How cute. With a sigh, he pulls out from the comfort of your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, before a warm liquid hit your bare lips. With the viscosity dribbling between your folds, you realized that was Kento's spit. Your gaze flickered up towards him but he focused on other things—like the way your clit twitched when his saliva hit the neglected bud. Eyes dark and brows knitted, he reached down to thumb at your sensitive nub, a choked moan leaving your lips.

"Ease up, that's right," he praised, using the wetness to roll his hips forward. 

Your walls fluttered around him, your moans egging him on as he continued to feed you more of his monster cock. Kento never needed this amount of prep with Mrs. Nanami, considering she always seemed so...bored. He was even beginning to think he was bad at sex! But the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head told him all he needed to know. A low groan rumbled in his chest when he finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix. After so long with only his hand as company, he worried he'd come the second he was inside you. The way you were squeezing his dick didn't help either. Kento swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths as he let you adjust to his size.

"How are you so tight?" 

When his panting reached your ears, you let out a slurred mumble, eyes unfocused as you tried to look up. He leaned down, forehead resting against yours to regain his composure. Body covering yours, he only buried himself deeper all the way to the hilt. It was like your mind went blank.

"Ngh—you're just too big!" you managed to shout, eyes glassy from how he kept nudging against your womb.

That was all it took for Kento to lose his mind.

Locking an arm around your leg, he fucked into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his hips snapped forward. His pace was merciless, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every mean thrust. 

"Yeah? How deep am I?" he growled, his grip on your waist bruising.

 All the way in my tummy, you try to say, but you were too fucked out to answer. Just a few thrusts had you dumb on his cock, glossy lips hanging open weakly. The sight makes Kento chuckle, holding onto your thighs as his skin smacked against yours.

It had been years since he had been in a pussy this wet and eager for him. He was in love with your cunt. The slickness as he slid past your folds, the way your walls tried to milk him—but the cock drunk look in your eyes was the cherry on top. Kento turns his head to the side, pressing kisses onto your calf as he fucked you. 

Come back, pretty girl.

When he notices your lack of response, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, emphasized with a harsh thrust that made you scream. "Kento, slow down," you cry out, heat churning in your belly from the cruel pistoning of his hips.

He only chuckles, shaking his head before he sped up his pace. The shocked look in your eyes made him reach down to rub tight circles on your clit for relief. Loud squelches and the slapping of skin-on-skin filled the air, the room reeking of sweat and sex. Kento's eyes locked on the way your ass bounced back against his pelvis with every thrust, cock twitching as he thought of taking you from behind. He continued to jackhammer into you, strings of profanities leaving his lips. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. As you mumbled incoherently on the verge of tears, a hand wrapped around your throat.

"Shh. Your sweet pussy's talkin' to me," he tuts, squeezing your throat to shut you up. 

His hand completely engulfed your neck, rough palm pressed tightly against your pulse. Gasping for breath, you could feel your head spin from the lack of air. You rake your nails along his back, digging crescents into his skin to try and make him let go. Kento hissed at the sensation, cockhead slamming hard against your g-spot. It was too much—the delicious stretch of his cock, the way his tip kissed your gummy insides with every thrust, his hand around your throat—the knot in your stomach snapped. Even when you tried to push the heat down, your climax ripped through you like white lightning. 

Your back arched off the bed, cursing out Kento's name as your orgasm shook through your body. The man nearly collapsed on top of you, a sharp groan leaving his lips as your walls clamped down and milked his cock so suddenly. His grip on your throat loosens and you thrash under him. 

You might die from how good he's dicking you down. 

Rolling onto your stomach, you stumble as you get on your hands and knees to try and crawl off the bed. A pair of rough hands grab onto your waist, followed by heavy panting that makes your blood run cold.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kento spits, dragging you back against him. 

He'd be damned if he let the first good pussy he's had in years get away. Even when you try to thrash and break free, your body is too weak from coming so hard! His palm lands a harsh smack against your ass, your arms collapsing under your body as you cried out. Kento pushed your head down into the pillows, propping you up by the back of your knees. Face down, ass up. The sight of you so vulnerable with your glistening pussy on display made him lick his lips, quickly positioning himself behind you. 

"Naughty girl, trying to run away from me," he tuts, swiping his tip up and down your creamy folds.

As punishment, he reached down to pinch your clit, earning a choked sob from you. He rolled the bud between his fingers, resting his free hand on the plush of your ass. Cock throbbing for release, he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust, setting up a mean pace immediately.

Yep, might die from this dick. 

Every slam of his hips against yours had you sobbing into the pillows, the fabric damp with your salty tears. Your body was still reeling from your multiple orgasms, cunt fluttering around him. Even if it was too much, Kento was fucking you so good your insides had molded to every ridge and vein of his cock. Your tits jiggled with every thrust and he wasted no time in grabbing your hefty breasts, playing with your soft nipples. He buried his head in the tender area where your neck and shoulders connected, groaning against you. 

Kento was getting close, you could tell from how frantically he rutted into you. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsing against your gummy walls. You couldn't resist the urge to push your ass back into him, making his dick hit even deeper inside you. You were half sure he was bulging through your tummy at this point. The action made him suck in shallow breaths through his teeth, keeping a death grip on your ass as he bulllied your cunt.

"Fuuuck, I'm gonna come," he groans into your shoulder.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily into your skin as he buried his cock deeper and deeper. Seeing such a composed man this broken made your cheeks flush. Your walls were heavenly, every clench pushing him closer to the edge. 

Screw his hand. Coming from your pussy squeezing him was better that jacking off to any porno he could watch online. 

With a strangled moan, Kento shot thick spurts of cum into the condom, as if he hadn't finished in years. He collapsed on top of you, the orgasm rendering him unable to even hold himself up anymore. It was like losing his virginity all over again. You whine as the rubber began to fill up with his load, heavy in your pussy. After a few moments to catch your breath, you tried to push yourself off him, worried he'd spill into you.

"We should probably take that off—" 

Kento shut you up immediately, grabbing your waist to drag your hips back on top of him. Now straddling his lap, his still hard cock prodded new places you had never even touched before, a pathetic moan leaving your lips. His blonde hair was messy and dripping with sweat, eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed. You felt him twitch inside you when he met your gaze, the same fucked-out look in both your eyes. He definitely wasn't done with you yet.

"It's only midnight, sweetheart."

You'd be lucky to come out of here alive.

You spent the rest of the night going several rounds, trying every position possible before collapsing from exhaustion. What's for sure—sex would never be the same ever again. How could you go back to one night stands with shitty frat bros when an older man just gave you the dicking down of your life? 

The next morning, you roll on your side to see Kento sitting at the edge of the bed. His bare back was wrecked, littered with vicious nail marks and lipstick stains. You chew on your bottom lip, pulling the duvet over your chest. 

"Are we gonna see each other again?" you croak, voice hoarse from last night.

The muscles in his back tensed at your words. Kento didn't want to see the hickeys and bruises on your skin, undeniable marks of the years of frustration he took out on you. He actually slept with a girl almost half his age right after getting divorced.

Talk about issues. 

Though his stomach churned with guilt, the memories of last night flashed through his mind. How eager you were for him, your sopping cunt, your sweet whines. He was even starting to imagine what it'd be like to sink into you raw.

He couldn't deny how addicted he was to your body. Doing this once was one thing, but agreeing to meet you again? Kento let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Let me check my schedule, pretty girl."

TAGS: @lucakaneshiroswife @susanhill @hana-patata @kenzieluvsnanami @luvingmyships @sutaagaaru @secretfoxmaker @savannaounana @ilyjupit3r @h4n1vs @supernatrualqueen @mayhaps-nerd @1ennj4 @jiwooahae @gojomaki @raenfall562 @l0v3rgirl-owo @levisjinchuriki @yourgirljasmine5 @nanamiscsleeve @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jjkmenluver @vmpireslut @namorafushiguro @cindyneko-strider @zeunys @t4matar @c0ckdrunkk @mortallyshadysoul @red-writes @fferairy @vipblinkagase1111 @evieloves @jdopeisdope @cherryreads-blog @itsinherited @sparklyhologramstarfish @hannahhmelv @umiwu @sugurusjaz @miguelsonlywife @lyraa06 @illumissei @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @celestialhvns @nanamisd0ll @blushedcheri @grr457 @yogichi @kaislashes @briefrebelfanalmond @fictionalytmenhavemyheart @kekeanna266 @airandyeah @hollowwolf22 @ssstingrayyyyyyyy

[dawntheduckrb]

I used to treat this blog like a diary, and when I went offline recently I realized how much I normally bottle up. Really not feeling well so vent post below :') feel free to skip

I really tried to not let my dog passing affect me as much as it has; but 3 weeks later, I'm finally admitting that I completely shut down when it happened. My ability to focus on anything other than good ol' instant-gratification media has literally gone to the gutter, and I've only recently worked up the ability to talk to close friends. I only took a day off of work and classes when it happened, and I realize in retrospect that it wasn't nearly enough.

At this point, I'm so far behind in my classwork that I have no idea what to do with myself; I'm skirting by all of my classes doing that absolute bare minimum I have to, and it feels awful.

And at the same time, I've wanted nothing more than to communicate with people, and I really have tried, but I keep talking myself out of it because of all the things I haven't done yet. I can't justify giving myself the time to message a friend - even though my brain has no problem letting me waste literal hours doomscrolling and watching the same videos over and over - because "what about that one thing you could also be spending your time on?"

I really wish I knew what to do about it but I have no clue. I haven't gotten a single full night of uninterrupted sleep for the past three weeks. I keep falling asleep on top of assignments I stared at for so long that I started to doze, because flitting in and out of sleep is easier than just doing the work that has never given me trouble in my entire four years of classes. And I've berated myself for not working or communicating, and I've tried giving myself more breaks and intermittent rewards for getting even the tiniest things done, and I've tried brute forcing my way through it all, and on the whole, it's just not working.

Normally I end these posts with a proposed path for myself to get better, or a question that I need answered so I can finally move on with life, but right now I just need these thoughts out of my head. I just think I needed to finally admit to someone that I'm not okay, and that this time, I really just don't know what to do.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I’ll probably elaborate more on this tomorrow but I think it would be SO funny if Batman and the others create the justice league maybe a year or two after Dick has been going out as Robin.

And people have heard of Robin, sure, but never seen any pictures. Gotham is very territorial, and they don’t want news of their little bird reaching the wrong ears. Most people think Robin is some strange eldritch horror or cryptid like Batman, they don’t think either of them are really human. Gothamites know better, of course, but they don’t correct any outsiders. It’s a joke for them, really. It’s entertaining.

So then Batman co-creates the Justice League. And they all start asking about Robin.

“He’s my…associate.”

They all assume Robin is an adult. That he’s like Batman. They know now that Batman is human (most of them do, at least - some are still skeptical), and they assume Robin is an adult human too.

“Why doesn’t he join the League?” Superman asks one day.

“No,” is all Batman says.

Eventually though, after a year of needling him, they get Batman to agree to bring Robin in to meet them.

And boy are they shocked when they hear a child’s voice complaining after announcing Batman’s designation and a new “Robin, B-01” designation.

“But why can’t I join!”

“You’re only here to meet them. You’re not allowed to join.”

“Why not? That’s no fair! I’ve been around longer than some of them even!”

“You’re too young.”

“Until when?”

“Until you’re thirty.”

“Statistically speaking, I won’t make it to thirty.”

They hear Batman make a strangled sounding noise, like a whine and a wheeze.

“Don’t say that,” Batman pleads.

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me sad, Robin.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“I know.”

There’s another pause, before Robin’s voice perks up and asks, “Is Superman gonna be here?”

“He is not taking you flying and you will not ask.”

“That’s no fair! Why not?”

“You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt doing anything! Are you gonna wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me in my room?”

“I just might.”

“Please, please? Can’t I just ask him to toss me in the air? He’s Superman, he won’t hurt me!”

“He might hurt you because he is Superman,” Batman says. “You’re small. You’re fragile. He’s a very large alien with super strength.”

“But you’re big and strong and you toss me up in the air all the time!”

“That’s different, Robin.”

“You’re such a spoilsport!”

And then suddenly Batman and Robin are standing in the doorway to the meeting room where everyone is sitting around, shocked. Because Robin looks like he’s maybe 10 or 11. He’s a child.

And he beams at the sight of Superman before darting over to him, his hand leaving the hold he had on the edge of Batman’s cape.

“Superman!” Robin greets, stopping straight in front of him and bouncing on his toes. “Can you throw me in the air like I’m flying? Please, please, please!”

Clark’s throat is dry and his mouth can’t move, because even though Batman has a cowl on hiding his eyes, he can feel the glare being sent his way.

“Um-”

Robin has noticed the look Batman is sending Superman, and he’s quick to send a scrunched up facial expression Batman’s way before moving closer to Superman, practically in his personal bubble.

“Ignore him, he’s being big and broody today!” Robin says quickly. “You can toss me up, I’m real good at flying!”

“Touch him and I’ll break your kneecaps,” Batman threatens.

Superman believes him.

“You’re such a party pooper!” Robin whines s Batman yanks him back, tucking his cape around the boy. “You can’t just drag me up here and not even let me have any fun!”

No one can believe what they’re seeing. No one can believe Batman is dad.

Superman isn’t afraid of much, but he’s terrified of finding out what Batman might do if anyone were to accidentally harm Robin.

[nanamisdollie]

corruption kink with rin? pls >_<

sweet bf rin corrupting his cute gf⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

smut, mdni. characters aged up!! cw: degrading, corruption, dubcon!!

“keep your legs open. i’m not telling you again.”

rins tone was gruff, his lips grazing your thigh while he held your legs apart. everything had happened so fast; one minute you were telling your sweet quiet boyfriend about your day and the next you were pushed back onto the couch, skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles.

all you had said was it had been a long day and rin was straight to wanting to help you relax however he could.

you learned pretty quickly into your relationship with the soccer star that he was obsessive. he got addicted to things and once he decided he wanted something, he was gonna have it. thats exactly how he was with your cunt.

��mmph- don’t be s-so rough”

“shut up. let me stretch your little hole…gotta prep it before i can use it properly”

your breath is shaky as you sit up partially. you push him back by his forehead making his dark hair fall out of his face, his teal eyes locking with yours.

“m’ not ready yet rin…”

you made it clear you were a virgin a few months into seeing each other. he didn’t have much of a reaction, just shrugged it off and went on with whatever you two had been doing.

when you did begin taking things to another level, he was always soft. he praised you in his own unique way, would press kisses to every part of your skin he could, carefully push a single finger inside of you, eyes never moving from you; like missing just one of your reactions would ruin the whole experience.

lately though? something had changed with him;

hands slipping up your skirt to grab ur asscheeks when you went out together, ‘honey’ swapped out for ‘needy girl’, lingering touches that screamed i need you. maybe it was stress, maybe he was just too pent up, you didnt know but you didnt question it. not when he knew how to circle his thumb over ur twitching clit just right to have you cumming in minutes.

“still? come on, dont act dumb. i know you want it” rin sits up from between your legs, his clothed hips slotting against your bare hips. your cunt fluttered, drooling onto the couch feeling the bulge in his sweats against your skin.

“just want you rinnie~”

that did it.

maybe it was the stupid nickname he hated or that sweet tone of voice you only ever had with him. maybe it was the fact that you wanted him, only him. whatever it was made a flip switch.

“yeah? want me?”

swiftly two cool hands grip the backs of your thighs and press them to your chest. a choked whine was the single reaction you could give before his clothed cock is pushing against your folds. his hips rut into you at an agonizingly slow pace that contradicts the grip of his hands. his tip is pressed flush against the dampening grey fabric stopping him from using you properly, barely pushing into your tight unused cunt.

“youve got me now dummy-“ wet lips press to your temple “-you feel that? gonna fuck it into you raw next time, hows that sound?”

your brains barely functioning, too much at once but its so damn good. high pitched whimpers with every roll of rins hips, tongue lolling from parted lips. maybe you did need his cock…

“huh- you need it? fuckin’ knew it”

shit. you said that out loud? were you that fucked out from just this? was just the feeling of your sweet boyfriends mushroom tip violating your hungry cunt enough to have you babbling out your own thoughts?

“yesyesyes- fuck! need it, need you!” drool falls from the corner of your mouth as he attempts to bend you further in half, one of his hands grabbing your skirt and pushing it up so he can get a better view of the mess you were making

dark hair falls into your vision while his hips begin to work harder to get both of you off. rins breathing consists of strained whines and huffs, his eyes still locked on where the two of you meet.

“gonna ruin you- fuckk- wanna make it..make it so no guy can ever use this pussy- ngh- besides me. all fuckin’ mine“

the warmth in ur lower stomach is building with every word he throws out. you dont care if theyre icky, you dont care if theyre mean, you get it now. you want him to ruin you.

“pleasepleaseplease!” you huff out a whimper “m’ all y-yours, ruin me- mmph- please rinnie!”

his hips stutter with a choked sob. then you feel it; something sticky seeping through the fabric that had been humping into you. rins head falls into your shoulder while he catches his breath, mumbling incoherent words against your skin. when he finally sits up and sees the finished mess on not only his pants but your lips he is lowering himself back between your aching thighs to get a taste.

“did it get inside…?” you sound worried as you question him, bottom lip pushed out in a pout

“gonna have to check” his thumbs push your folds apart, getting a good look at your pulsing hole. he presses a gentle kiss to your clit followed by another kiss to your cunt “don’t worry; ill clean you up if any did…cant have you getting knocked up before ive even fucked you properly”

tysm for requesting ^.^ i heart rin so much ohmygod. i never have thought about him being into corruption so i hope i did it some justice!!

[madamechrissy]

Mr. Nanami's Secretary

Pairings - Boss Nanami x Secretary reader

Contents/warnings- based off the movie 'The Secretary' quite clearly aha, BDSM heavy, dom/sub elements, Nanami is NOT nice lol, power dynamics, some sexual teasing, quite an ass beating bc Nanami is mad at your typos!!!

This is for my baby @indiewritesxoxo she wanted this fic to win so badly lol! If ya'll want a tag for part two lmk in the comments <3

Part two>>>

Part one

How did you end up here?

Crawling on all fours, with Mr. Nanami's paper dangling between your lips, wearing your black gartered stockings and your little blouse and pencil skirt, utterly professional looking - but here you are, crawling like a little puppy over his hardwood floors. As you get closer and enter his office, he leans back, lowering his green glasses, stern face assessing you when you crawl up to him.

You tilt your chin up and he reaches a hand down, tugging it out of your teeth's grip, inspecting it while tugging at his cheetah tie. It's the one quirky thing about his otherwise serious attire, this suit that fits him just a bit tightly, his muscles so big under his dress shirt it's like the material has to stretch.

You know there are two outcomes to this paper.

One, praise.

Two, punishment.

You're perfectly happy with either, you love his punishment as much as you love his praise - only one thing would be better, and that's having all of Mr. Nanami, which you're dying for. Your cunt is wet again just thinking about it, about another three days of not sitting right because he's beat you with his belt, and maybe he'd actually do more with you.

Nanami's lips purse as he's carefully studying your typing, if he finds just one flaw, you'll be bent over his desk, if you do it perfectly, he'll pat your head so sweet and let you rest your cheek on his lap. The thoughts make your heart race, as you patiently wait, your palms flat on your thighs as he likes you.

"Hmm," his husky sound just makes you desire him more, fuck you're tired of touching yourself to the thoughts of him, eyeing his side profile in the soft lights ahead. "What a shame, you almost got it all completely perfect."

"I did-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" His voice is calm, raising a thin brow, turning to you now, you're flushed when he tilts your chin up with two fingers, hazel eyes glinting.

"No, Sir."

"No, I didn't, yet you're still talking, huh?" You open your mouth again, just to close it. "I was going to let this slide, because it's just one letter wrong, but..."

He stands now, pushing back his giant office chair, standing so tall over you as his hand enwraps in your hair, tugging just a bit, you see the tenting in his slacks, making your cunt throb around nothing. You barely hold in a whine as he speaks slowly.

"Go lock the door."

You know better than to argue or ask, it's been your new routine, serving him, and he in turn tells you what to do. What to eat, what to wear, what to say, fuck you love it, love feeling like finally your life has some sort of order, wanting it to belong to him utterly.

With a gentle click of his door, you look back over your shoulder at him, so tall and broad, he's loosened his tie just a bit, showcasing the veins running across his neck. You swallow nervously as you head back to him, until your heels are right against his perfectly polished dress shoes.

"Bend over the desk," he murmurs, stepping around it, as you walk up nervously, doing just that. "Lift your skirt."

You're palms flat on the desk, arched for him, you've tugged your skirt up over the curve of your ass, while he just stands there. "Mr. Nanami..."

"I haven't given you permission to speak darling, have I?" The way it rolls off his tongue, when you feel his fingers ghosting your ass, the way you wish he'd do more, touch more, for once he does barely brush your slit for just a moment, your eyes shut, a gasp escaping. "Your slutty cunt is soaking wet from crawling on the floor?"

You look back at him, he nods. "No sir."

"What are you dripping for? Going to make a mess of my floors, tsk," he aches to sink two fingers inside your cunt - but not just yet, you have to need him more, beg for it more. So instead he lands a sharp smack against your ass cheek, cock throbbing when he sees his hand print, hearing your muffled cry as you bite your lip. "Ah ah."

He leans over, cupping your chin now, you're arching further against him, dying for more contact, he lands another smack. "Mr. Nanami..."

"Don't muffle your cries, I want to hear them, hmm? Nod if you understand." You nod quickly, nearly tasting his breath before he pulls back and lands another smack. The sharp sting just makes your cunt ache even more.

He doesn't stop there, no his sharp smacks echo in his office, mixed with muffled cries as your tears well up in your eyes, sniffling as you try to not fall to the ground. It's one after the other, so many your thighs nearly collapse, smacks until you'll be bruised from him for weeks, marked from him.

The sight of you was so fucking sexy like this, Nanami can't stand it, your arousal glistening and dripping down your inner thigh. He swipes a bit of it up, your thighs are twitching, cunt pushing more and more clear strings of arousal out. He can't help but captures some of it on his thumb, slipping it in his mouth and biting back a moan and how good you fucking taste, before smacking the fuck out of your ass again.

He loves how it jiggles for him, he loves how his hand prints are littered across it in patterns. "Don't move, you know the rules, don't you?"

"S-Sorry..." You can't help it, not when he touched the cunt you've been playing with since you started working here. "Could you... do more?"

"Now you're demanding things of me? That's not how this works, darling." He smacks you right across your cunt, your head falls back, hoarse moan escaping from your throat. "Do you deserve that after that glaringly apparent typo?"

"N-no..."

"I was going to lick this pretty cunt," he trails a finger from your clit up your dripping slit, up past your hole, teasing but never entering, yet this is more from Mr. Nanami than you've gotten so far. "But you aren't acting appropriately, are you Miss?"

"No, I'm sorry Mr. Nanami - ah!" He smacks your cunt again, fuck you almost cum, the sting and burn and ache so perfect, but then he pulls back, brushing back your hair almost gently.

"Go type the paper up again, make it perfect, not one mistake, hmm?" He tugs at your hair, yanking your head back, you nod, and he smiles just a bit. "Good girl."

He leaves you to sit back in his chair, you carefully tug your skirt down, biting your lip at the sweet pain, you go to open the door when he stops you. "Yes Mr. Nanami?"

"Hands and knees," he says softly, you sink right down, and he smiles just a bit, serious attorney Nanami having just one little moment where you see the real him come through. "Crawl on back to your desk now."

He props his feet up, crossing his legs at the heels, as you do just that. You should feel degraded, or feel some shame, right? But all you can think of as you crawl to your desk is how badly you want your boss Mr. Nanami inside you, even as you can barely sit on your stinging and bruised ass, you feel it, your mind drifting to it.

Just how did you get here?

♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

I love when Nanami is mean lol

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 8)

HERE IS PART 8! Sorry I've been working on more music projects! (LMK If u wanna hear my cover of no seperation from heavens official blessing) THIS IS THE FAN SIGNING OF HUNTR/X AND SAJA BOYS! (PSA my tag list is full sorry guys! please enjoy sorry I'm late!

Previous - Next

‘Alright boys, let's settle down.’ Jinu said, crossing his arms and walking towards the group.

‘Hm.’ The boys relented, easing their slightly intimidating stances.

‘So, the hunters are having a fan signing in two days hm?’ Beom narrowed his eyes, moving to his favourite spot on the couch, crossing his legs. Huh, kinda like a cat claiming its territory.

‘How long do those usually take?’ Rae took his place in Y/N’s gaming chair, turning to face where Y/N was standing in the kitchen.

‘Maybe half a day?’ Y/N supplied, still looking somewhat confused. She wasn’t entirely sure of what had just conspired around her.

‘I see.’ Min sat down to her left, resting his elbow on the marble countertop, his tone light.

‘Why?’ Y/N turned, looking at the oldest man who was running his fingers through his hair.

‘Might wanna pay you a visit is all.’ Min’s eyes glinted with mischievousness, his smirk saying everything she needed to hear.

‘You can’t kill them.’ Y/N poked Min’s cheek, drawn by his smooth, unblemished skin. She shook her head, moving toward her PC to turn it off.

To Min’s credit, he only turned a light shade of pink, as he brought his hand down to hover over the spot the girl had touched. His purple hair falling back into place as he savoured Y/N’s touch.

‘But you’re saying we can visit?’ Beom gave a devious smile, lifting his eyes from his phone momentarily.

‘You don’t even have the tickets to go to the fan signing.’ Y/N laughed, spinning around as her computer monitor turned black, standing to walk back to the kitchen.

‘Hm, I think you forget what we’re capable of.’ Beom’s eyes flashed a golden colour, before turning back into his humanesque eyes.  

‘That's true… I hear one of the body guard’s likes handsome men.’ Y/N looked amused, staring at Beom’s steadily reddening face.

‘NO, I MEANT HYPNOSIS.’ 

‘Ohh.’ Y/N chuckled, hiding her laughter behind her hand. ‘Yes of course Beom-ie. The hypnosis!’

‘How come Beom gets a nickname?’ Abel grunted, still standing behind Y/N.

‘Why are you still behind me?’ Y/N blinked, shifting her neck to glance at Abel.

‘Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to darlin’.’ He crossed his arms, eyes glinting with unspoken desire, moving to sit down on one of the counter chairs.

Y/N gave a confused look, as Jinu set down a bowl of soup in front of her with a clink. The soup’s scent wafted toward her, hearty, warm and inviting.

‘Jinu, if you do this for me everyday I might as well make you my wife for real.’ Y/N let a breath of content out, picking up her spoon and digging in. A peaceful smile spread over her lips, letting the soothing broth slide down her throat.

‘Are you proposing?’ Rae chuckled. ‘You know that marrying Jinu would mean marrying all of us too?’

‘That is true. We’re a package deal.’ Jinu gave a forlorn smile, before looking at his friends with the same soft smile.

‘Huh, having five pretty husbands is better than one!’ Y/N joked, completely missing the flash of hope, resonating off of the men’s faces.

‘Hmm, I won’t let you forget this.’ Jinu whispered, watching as Y/N brushed her thumb finger over her lips.

‘Hmm? Did’ya say something?’ Y/N asked, standing to get herself another bowl of soup.

‘The rice is ready. Have a bowl of that and soup, then you have to go to bed. You’ve been awake for too long.’ The black haired man replied, without missing a beat.

‘Mmh, what are you, my mother?’ Y/N whined, as her bowl was taken gently from her hands by Abel, who was now scooping rice into it.

‘No, we’re your wives, remember?’ Min said, his head laying to rest on his arm. 

‘And such pretty wives you’ll make!’ Y/N nodded, thanking Abel with a nod, as the muscular man gently set down her last bowl of food.

The room began to blur, as Y/N continued to pick up her spoon. Listening to the men chatter around her, slowly becoming a lullaby. Dozing off was inevitable, seeing as she had definitely overworked herself 

‘Shh, look, she’s nodded off again.’ A voice whispered, soft and teasing.

‘Y/N does realise we’re men right? Even worse, we’re demons. Does she have no care for her own safety.’ Beom sighed, walking toward the girl who had fallen asleep.

The youngest man bent his knees, sliding his arm under Y/N’s legs, putting an arm under her back. He gently slid the girl from her sleeping position, bringing Y/N to the ensuite in her room.

Y/N had two toothbrushes for some reason, an electric one and a regular one. Beom opted for the electric one, seeing as it would be easier to brush Y/N’s teeth that way. He chuckled at the cartoon stickers on the toothbrush.

‘Come on open up.’ Beom muttered, wetting Y/N’s toothbrush, applying a mint toothpaste. 

Beom gently pulled Y/N’s jaw down, turning the electric toothbrush on to the lowest setting, brushing over Y/N’s teeth gently.

‘Okay Y/N-ie. Time to rinse.’ He whispered, ‘Spit it out.’ 

Y/N gargled the water weakly, before spitting it out back into the sink.

‘That’s my girl.’ Beom smiled, picking Y/N back up, walking out of the bathroom.

Laying Y/N on her bed, Beom took notice of another presence in her room.

‘Don’t forget to wipe her face.’ Min walked forward with a warm towel.

‘Thanks Min 형.’ Beom held his hands out, as the oldest man placed the warm town into his grasp.

‘It’s nice to see you taking care of someone else now, for a change Beom-ie.’ Min gave a subtle smile, patting the youngest on the head. 

Centuries ago, when they took in Beom. They had found him, hollow and void of emotion in the underworld. It genuinely was heartwarming to see that Beom had developed his own sense of compassion. Gwi-ma had made it almost impossible to have any emotions other than shame and anger. 

The underworld was his pen of cattle, ready for disposal at any moment. His demons no more than play things for him to pass the time as the Honmoon drew closer and closer to being closed.

And yet, there was something these five boys had since long lost. 

Hope

Hope in the form of a girl, who had freed Abel and Beom.

Hope that ignited a spark in them that had been extinguished for centuries.

‘Urgh.. I’m still hungry,’ Y/N whined, in a half asleep state, opening her eyes slightly to spot the purple haired man.

‘You can eat tomorrow morning. No one’s taking your food. Come on now, it’s time to sleep.’ Min hushed the girl, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s face.

‘Thanks for taking care of me Beom. You too Min.’ Y/N brought her hand up to touch Min’s hand, for a brief second. ‘Min, you have such pretty eyes.’

A flash of white blue and gold. Just like the one Beom and Abel had experience. A ripple of iridescent colour echoed through Min’s patterns as Y/N’s hand fell limply to her side.

‘Wha-’

‘Shh!’ Beom hushed the older man, quickly putting a hand over his mouth. 

‘Wah wash dat.’ Min mumbled, gently peeling Beom’s hands off his mouth, staring incredulously at the now lightly snoring girl.

‘That was what caused Gwi-ma to think we were dead.’ Beom looked at Y/N, heaving a sigh. ‘Me and Abel also felt the same spark. Although, we aren’t sure what causes it.’

‘But how could she just-’

‘She also doesn't know. Y/N said that it could be something to do with the fact that she was meant to be a hunter.’

‘Meant to be?’ Min looked confused.

‘Yes, meant to be. She can see the Honmoon and see the lines but apparently she can’t use spirit power to create a weapon.’ Beom explained, pushing Min out of the room with his hands. ‘She also said we had to stay quiet. Jinu wouldn’t be happy if he found out this was possible.’

‘But what if Jinu found out he could be free too? I can ignore Gwi-ma but he's actually just not in my head anymore. He’s completely gone!’ Min whispered excitedly, looking as if he had been healed from a century long headache.

Beom paused, contemplating his response.

‘But you heard him, he said Y/N was just a means to an end.’ 

‘Right…’ 

‘Is she asleep?’ The mentioned man piped up, startling Beom and Min as they eased the bedroom door shut.

‘Yeah, she’s down for the night.’ Beom recovered quickly, smoothing out his handsome face from its momentary, anxious display.

‘That's good.’ Jinu nodded, before slinging his arm around Beom. ‘I grabbed a bowl of soup for you. You better drink every drop of it.’

‘Did you-’

‘I put extra salt in it just how you like it.’ Jinu nodded, crossing his arms triumphantly

‘Okey I’ll eat it.’ Beom power walked over to the kitchen, forgetting about the previous situation. His mind was now focused on the bowl of soup waiting for him in the kitchen. 

‘Two hundred years and he still enjoys salty food.’ Min shook his head, looking amused.

‘Wasn’t salt used as a trading tool back in your day grandpa?’ Jinu jeered, nudging his oldest friend with his elbow teasingly. 

‘Why you little.’ Min quickly twisted Jinu into a playful headlock, dragging him to the kitchen.

‘Hey, hey! I was kidding! Come on grandpa, it’s time to go back to the retirement home!’ Jinu continued, as Min released him.

‘You brat.’ Min gave a soft snort, shaking his head.

–

The fan signing came, Y/N had spent the morning pleading to the men to leave the Hunter/x girls unharmed.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how they were going to get into the fan signing. They didn't camp out like the movie, they had spent the morning pestering Y/N, wanting her to stay home.

‘Guys, I promised to go. They're my friends.’ Y/N sighed, staring at the downcast group. They genuinely hated the idea of Y/N being anywhere near Huntr/x. Not because the girls were hunters, but because they seemed to also share an interest in what the Saja Boys had already deemed as their girl.

‘Are we not your friends?’ Min whispered, as if not wanting to know the answer.

‘What? Yes. Okay look, if I let the tiger-’

‘Derpy.’ Jinu cut in, looking hopeful.

‘Okay, if I let Derpy come with me, will you guys stop pouting.’ Y/N said, trying to fight a smile, watching five handsome men speak in hushed whispers. Deciding amongst each other of this was good enough for them.

‘Okay. But can we come if we don't kill Hunter/x?’ Rae asked, his dark lavender eyes were wide, pleading.

‘HAH. If you can somehow get in, sure! You underestimate their staff.’ Y/N turned around, walking towards her front door to pull on her shoes. Derp had since appeared out of a portal, striding over to Y/N, rumbling a question for pets. One that Y/N happily gave, giving Derpy scritches under his chin.

Five pairs of eyes, flashed bright yellow for a second from behind Y/N, all filled with a touch of deviousness.

‘I’m heading out now!’ Y/N called out, blissfully unaware of the challenge that she had unknowingly issued. ‘Come on sweetheart, we’re gonna go meet my friends!’

‘Oh, we are so crashing that stupid fansign.’ Beom smirked, watching Y/N wave as the elevator doors closed.

–

‘Alright, team! I know everything is Saja, Saja, Saja. But we’re gonna turn it, Huntr/x, Huntr/x, Huntr/x!’ Bobby cheered, the three girls stretched as Y/N walked into the room.

‘Y/N/N!’ The girls chorused, standing up from their table.

‘Hey girls! I’m here!’ Y/N walked over, letting herself be enveloped in a group hug. ‘Hey Bobby! Hope you’re doing well!’

‘I’m doing good! Glad to see you’re up and awake!’ Bobby replied, before looking around, checking if anything else needed organising.

‘We’re so glad you’re here! We missed you so much!’ Zoey chirped, dragging Y/N to stand behind where the girls were sitting.

‘Zoey, it’s only been like a day and a half max.’ Mira chuckled before adding, ‘No but for real, we have missed you.’

‘You’re still down to have us over after the fan sign right?’ Rumi asked, eyes round and earnest.

‘Of course! We can have dinner and then come back to mine to record!’ Y/N nodded, giving Rumi a soft pat on the head.

‘Oh my gosh, I want a headpat too!’ Zoey whined, grabbing Y/N’s other hand, placing it on top of her own head.

‘You’re so cute Zoey.’ Y/N gave a soft hearted grin, patting Zoey’s head.

‘Okay girls! These fans have been sleeping on the sidewalk all night for this! Let’s get started!’ Bobby smiled, watching the interaction.

‘Happy fans, Happy Honmoon!’ The girls whispered, clinking their pens together.

‘Alright, let's bring ‘em in!’ Bobby called out to the security, as the doors opened.

Y/N frowned as she watched five sleeping bags huddle to the front of the line. Surely it wasn’t… Wait, how did the boys show up in the movie again? Y/N put her finger to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully.

‘And who should I make this out to?’ Rumi hummed, without looking up.

‘To Y/N’s biggest fans.’ A hauntingly familiar voice said.

‘Oh no…’ Y/N slapped a hand on her forehead in disbelief as the boys dropped their sleeping bags, jumping into a quick group pose.

‘It’s the Saja Boys!’ The fans chorused, cheering excitedly.

The three Huntr/x girls let out a collective groan, snapping their pens. Y/N however, gave a menacing glare (as menacing as she could). Staring at the demon boy band. In return, the group of boys beamed at her, finding Y/N’s anger to be akin to a puppy throwing a tantrum.

‘It is an honor.’ Bobby gave a fake smile. ‘Table, now!’

‘Joint signing!’ The fans gasped, half of them moving to the other table.

‘We’d lose half the fans?’ Rumi gaped.

‘The Saja Boys will sit with us!’ Mira called out, displaying a fake, yet beautiful smile, whilst Zoey waved unenthusiastically.

‘Genius.’ Bobby smiled, tears running down his eyes.

‘Same table?’ The fans said in hushed whispers.

‘Y/N’s ours.’ Rae snickered, sitting next to Mira.

‘Y/N called me cute not even five minutes ago.’ Zoey bragged, taking a jab at Beom who was reluctantly sitting down next to her.

‘Yeah? Well she called me handsome.’ Beom spat back, crossing his arms, face twisted in a somehow still attractive scowl.

‘Hey Y/N.’ Jinu smiled, coming to sit on the chair Y/N was standing in front of. Y/N couldn’t see his face but she could practically hear the smugness dripping off his tongue.

‘Jinu…’ Y/N sighed, as Derpy rubbed his body on Y/N’s legs, having reappeared now that the Huntr/x girls were facing forward.

‘So, apparently you’re part demon.’ Jinu whispered to the girl who was glaring knives into the side of his face.

‘Yeah, and?’ Rumi snarled, signing a poster and handing it to a fan with a smile.

‘I didn’t think you’d share that with your friends.’

‘Oh, no! I love sharing.’ Rumi rolled her eyes, wanting to keep her cool in front of Y/N and her fans.

‘If only I could smash in your demon face right now.’ Mira growled at Abel, signing a poster before changing her face to one of gratitude for the fan. ‘Thanks for coming!’ 

‘Oh, is that so?’ Jinu snickered, leaning back to look at Y/N. ‘Y’hear that husband?’

‘Jinu! Hush!’ Y/N whined, pushing Jinu’s head back up to its natural position. 

‘Are you two whispering?’ A fan asked, looking at Y/N and Jinu with a smile.

‘Uh-’ Y/N panicked, darting her eyes between Jinu and the fan.

‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me!’ She pointed to her shirt, a drawing of Y/N and Jinu together with a shipname.

‘Wha-’

‘Thanks so much!’ Jinu beamed, whilst Rumi fumed, scribbling her autograph onto a poster.

‘We’re not-’ Y/N protested, as the fan left, replaced by another person.

‘Did you know Y/N’s seen us shirtless before?’ Abby jeered quietly, provoking Mira.

‘Yeah? Did she run away from how ugly you are?’ Mira sneered, signing another poster, her pen almost breaking from the sheer force behind it.

‘Mm, she’s so cute isn’t she?’ Rae hummed loud enough for Y/N to hear, signing his own poster.

‘Rae, shh.’ Y/N put a finger to her lips, a heat creeping up her neck.

‘Anything for you, my dear.’ He grinned, enjoying the reaction he received.

‘Y/N will never like you more than me.’ Zoey hissed, before beaming at another fan, handing them their signed poster. ‘Thanks so much for supporting us!’

‘Yeah? Well I can be cute, but you can’t be handsome.’ Beom grinned maliciously.

‘I could so be handsome.’ Zoey said indignantly, turning to look at Y/N. 

‘Y/N! Do you think I could be handsome?’ 

Y/N looked puzzled, not entirely sure of what was being asked of her.

‘I think you could be handsome if you want to, Zoey. Why?’ She tilted her head, blinking.

‘Nothing! Love you Y/N!’ Zoey smiled victoriously.

‘Y/N, who do you think is cuter! Me or this person.’ Beom asked, shoving Zoey discreetly.

‘Beom, come on, behave.’ Y/N walked over, smoothing down the boy’s hair quickly in an attempt to calm him down. At the same time, she placed a warm hand on Zoey’s shoulder, effectively reassuring Zoey.

Derpy gave a rumble, which seemed to be a laugh.

‘Yeah, I’m glad this is amusing to you.’ Y/N chuckled quietly, walking back to her spot behind Jinu.

‘Yeah? Well we’re going over tonight to Y/N’s apartment so beat that.’ Rumi huffed, before smiling at another fan.

‘You’re not gonna like what-’ Jinu began as Y/N put a gentle hand on his back, halting him instantly. The man stilled at Y/n’s touch, turning slightly to spot Y/N shaking her head.

‘Uh, well, she’d have more fun with us.’ Jinu restated, understanding the meaning behind Y/n’s touch. The way Y/n’s hand lingered on his back, set a small flame of comfort, flicking in his chest.

‘Well too bad.’ Rumi smiled triumphantly. ‘She’s ours.’

‘Yeah, for tonight.’ Jinu bit back, slouching slightly in defeat.

‘I don’t get a say in this do I?’ Y/N raised an eyebrow, as Derpy circled figure eights against her legs.

‘Of course you do Y/N!’ Both said in unison, before glaring at each other.

‘Oh boy…’ Y/n sighed, before backing away from the two leaders, who seemed to be ready to start another argument.

--

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