#I love making him suffer and gets comforted in the end

[ciaonicole85]

#NoStruggleLove

This JUST popped into my brain, and I got MAD, lol. In S3, Chris and Joana BETTER NOT make Sydney, Carmy's therapist and/or mother. I don't want her to "earn" his love by doing emotional labor. Yes, she bore too much during the renovation, but that was for HER dream as well. So far, she's been really good about maintaining her boundaries. She shares her emotions and backstory when she feels comfortable. She also allows Carmy to share his, while not burdening herself with his trauma. She holds him accountable and doesn't baby him, nor does she literally or metaphorically give him coochie. In short, she's not playing wifey with this messy man. It would be so easy to bc look at HIM.

I appreciate that so far their dynamic is actually pretty healthy. Yes, they hit a couple patches, but Carmy corrected himself quickly after the Brigade and the Review. In S2 he just didn't know how to juggle the restaurant and a love life. At the end of that season he realized that the partnership with Sydney and the restaurant matters more to him, albeit he took it too far in the freezer meltdown.

In the scene above we see CARMY initiating this conversation and offering Sydney emotional support and commitment, practically giving marital vows (eek!). In S10 before he got trapped in the freezer he helped her stay on expo and got Marcus away from her. There was his momentary lapse over the 7 Fishes getting cold (was that after he thought he saw his old EC?), but again he corrected quickly. Oh, why, oh why, didn't he call the freezer guy?!?! That first night could've been a glorious bonding event for him with Sydney and The Bear as a whole. But alas, we need the drama. Anyways, when he goes into Michelin Star mode in S3 I HOPE that Sydney doesn't bare the brunt of it. If she plays the long-suffering work wife, I'm going to be PISSED!! They like doing that to women generally and particularly women of color.

[buckybarnesb-tch]

Daemon T. Yandere A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

[theladyofrosewater]

I have finally gotten Laurance's character sheet to a point where I'm actually okay with the result. I'll probably make some edits later. Character notes and lore undercut also content warning for general shadow knight stuff

Feel free to suggest the next character to get a character sheet!

I was aiming for a swimmers or acrobatic type of build for him so I tried to give him wider shoulders. I'm going to be basing all of the guard characters after some kind of sports athlete so feel free to give suggestions for future guards like Katelyn or Dante

In my rewrite Laurance was nearly torn in half (yikes) in the Nether and Sasha had to stitch him back together. He didn't fully die but his heart stopped for almost a minute before Sasha restarted it. Hence he got turned into a Shadow Knight although a lot more human than most

Laurance is missing part of his leg in my rewrite as well as being partially blind in one eye and this is from Ungrth's rescue mission, which sidenote I'm very tempted to mix wyverns and phoenixes together in my rewrite so that Laurance still loses his friend but is comforted by the fact that he'll be back someday.

His leg prosthetic is actually part of his shadow knight form and as a result he can get quite tired if he's on his feet all day. Dante and Garroth commissioned Kenmur to create a decent prosthetic for Laurance but the group disappears before Kenmur can finish it. Laurance uses a wooden crutch when he gets too tired or has a day off. It's quite well made and carved with a wyvern script spell for steady balance. It used to be Jon's but Hayden gifted it to him when he left Meteli for good. (Also sidenote I'm making Jon and Hayden married in my rewrite just because I think it would be good storytelling)

Laurance has always been clumsy but surprisingly enough his balance only suffered a little when adjusting to his new leg, and he's pretty good at adjusting to the vison loss. He will however sometimes be an idiot while exploring and that's why half the time he ends up in caves or old witches hideouts when he's exploring

Laurance's natural hair color was that nice brown we all know and maybe love and in my rewrite he still dyes it to match Cadenza however becoming a shadow knight kinda mess with his hair and now when it reaches a certain point it kinda sorta just turns orange and while Laurance may be a flirt he doesn't actually care that much about his apparence, as long as he's in good shape health wise he doesn't care, so his hair is left long.

Laurance's shadow knight armor is actually quite different from a lot of other shadow knights as he's technically still living. Shadow knights that are fueled by intense anger like Zenix or were turned when they were still living have a lava like substance glowing in the cracks of their armor. Shadow knights like Sasha, Vylad or Gene on the other hand have "dead" armor that is just rock and maybe a few gemstones. Becoming a full shadow knight takes either your memories or a part of your soul and unless Shad gives an individual that piece back or they are too filled with rage their armor is dead.

His normal guard armor is a mix of nether metals and draconic steel, Aphelia got it from Zoey and gifted it to Laurance when he was sworn in as a knight of Phoenix Drop. It has an extremely high melting point so Laurance can hid his leg if he wants too or he needs to for missions but often times in Phoenix Drop he doesn't bother unless it's cold or raining or Phoenix Drop is on high alert. The leg produces some heat enough to singe fabrics but isn't a fire hazard unless Laurance wants it to be

Laurance used to have a lot of keepsakes and jewelry but they were lost in the Nether. but you can see on the casual outfit that Cadenza has been sending him new rings :)

His hair does glow in Shadow Knight form and yes he has been used as a nightlight/ light source before but on the bright side he got the codename firefly so it's not a total loss. also his teeth are stronger but not sharper as only some shadow knights get fangs and it's seemingly random

I imagine him to be almost 23 and around 6'2 but only because he has a habit of only walking on the tips of his toes as Cadenza made him take the same dance tutor their dads hired for her. In reality he's like 6 ft on a good day.

[s-creations]

Fluctuates Chapter 1 - Confession

One-Shot entries for the #RadioStatic Week 2024.

Yep, I'm doing this again! I'm going to make sure that I can keep track with uploading this time. Also, I will be sticking with the Fluff path, because I need more Fluff with these two.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Alastor/Vox (RadioStatic) Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lots of Fluff because I want it, Rosie will be in this, Probably other characters not sure at the moment.

“This was a stupid idea.”

Vox felt the unease that had been bubbling inside his stomach for at least a week suddenly burn stronger. The Media Demon slinked down further into the cafe’s rather uncomfortable iron chairs as he checked his watch again. He had arrived at the closest thing to a French patisserie café that Hell had to offer about 30 minutes before the scheduled meeting time. The time he had set and told the other to arrive at. 

And for the past 25 of those minutes was spent looking like an idiot. Some passing sinners giving pitying looks as they passed. One even being stupid enough to try and offer comfort, believing that Vox had just been stood up. 

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

They are now a charred mark on the pavement. 

So now Vox had to contend with the fact that he looked like a love struck idiot while also fighting the nerves down. 

Why did he have to pick such a public place? Sure, he knew the café was the other demon’s favorite. Run by a citizen in Cannibal town that made strong black coffee, best combination. But this could end poorly, leaving a bad taste in both of their mouths. Plus, if Vox was gaining sympathy without anything actually happening to him, what would occur once his world fell apart? Would he be left alone to suffer? Would they never speak to each other again?

His attention snapped up hearing footsteps approaching the table. Shoulders rising in embarrassment when he just saw yet another random sinner passing. Said demon actually raised her hand to greet someone behind where Vox sat. Allowing Vox the decency to slide down once more in defeat. 

“Of course that’s not him. You know his habits. He’ll be right on time. Appearing out of nowhere, just to freak you out, like he always does. ‘Because you look so adorable when you’re startled’. Adorable…he called me adorable. That must mean something, right? Fuck, why is this so difficult. Am I reading too far into this? Does he have a preference? He’s never shown interest in anyone before, so why in the whole of Hell would he settle for me?”

“Goodness, you’re in deep thought there. What plan are you cooking up, old friend?”

Vox practically toppled out of the chair, startled by the sudden voice so close to him. Able to reach out to grab onto the table to stabilize himself and prevent anything hitting the ground. The chatter around them died down instantly, and not from the new arrival. Instead having all attention on the awkwardly angled Media Demon. 

On his part, Vox tried to slow his breathing as his eyes flicker up to Alastor. Who offered a gentle chuckle. 

“Are we a little on edge?” The Radio Demon asked, head tilting.

“Ah, kind of…” Vox replied back weakly. Screen turned a slight pink as he tried to straighten himself quickly. Missing the way Alastor turned to the unwanted audience. Face twisting dangerously as a silent warning, to which everyone understood immediately and they turned back to their business. 

Once standing, Vox straightened his jacket, cleared his throat, and gestured to the empty chair across the table with a, “Care to join me?”

“Well, you did invite me. It would be rude to refuse after getting here.” Propping his cane against the small table, Alastor easily flipped the end of his coat back as he sat down. Legs crossing as he fixed the other with a curious look. “Your letter seemed very adamant about us meeting. I’m so curious over what you’re wanting to talk about.”

The worry of how stupid he looked instantly disappeared. Original nerves returning to full force. Causing Vox to temporarily forget how speaking worked. His mouth opened and closed a few times with small noises falling out. Alastor just watched on with interest. Ears flickering as his smile softened. 

Finally able to collect himself to some degree, Vox practically blurted out, “How about we order something first, yeah? It’s been a while since we’ve shared a meal together.”

“I wouldn’t say it was that long, it was only a little over a week ago. But if you insist on the matter.”

Vox gave an internal cheer as he was able to avert the conversation that he asked to have a little longer. The server clearly nervous as she waited on them, more than happy to pass their orders to leave them alone as quickly as possible. 

“So,” Alastor started slowly as he finished his latest bite, “now would you feel comfortable with our discussion?”

“Uh…” Vox tapped his fork against the partially clear plate as his mind scrambled to figure out what to do. 

“You idiot, you ASKED HIM TO COME! If you just say it was to just share a meal, then you’re going to piss him off. Just fucking talk to him! Just…rip it off like a band aid, yeah? Just…Just do it. Get it over with… Would you fucking say something!?”

“I wanted to talk business!” Vox and those in close proximity winced as harsh feedback sound. The Media Demon wincing again seeing how upset Alastor looked. Clearing his throat, Vox started again.

“Um, what I meant to say was… We’ve known each other for a while now, yeah?”

“A few centuries at this point, I would say.”

“And we work well together, yeah?”

“I…suppose so. I don’t believe we’ve worked together that often.”

Vox pouted a bit at that. “We’ve taken down a few competitors together.”

“Oh Picture Box, I’ve taken down far more without you. However, I will admit, having you there has been not only helpful, but extremely fun. I never thought burnt sinner meat would be so fun to watch being created.” 

“But you…still like working with me.”

“Of course, never doubt that.”

Letting out a small cycle of relief, Vox nodded slightly. “Okay, so, since we work so well together-”

“As you’ve stated numerous times.” Alastor added as he took another bite.

“Right, just to emphasize my point really. Wouldn’t it make sense that we team up?”

The next bite was paused half way up to Alastor’s awaiting mouth. Hovering there for a few seconds before it was slowly lowered once more. While his smile never left, Vox could tell it wasn’t as ‘cheery’ as before. Appearing a bit tight now.

“Team…up… As in partners?”

“Yeah, partners!” Vox agreed quickly, heart hammering from fear. Because Alastor was not as calm as he had been when he’d arrived. Meaning the Radio Demon apparently did not like whatever Vox was selling and he had to make this work. 

“Partners, business partners I mean, not like- Anyway, doesn’t that make sense? We’re powerful, even more so when we’re together. And we represent the two biggest forms of delivering information. Radio and television! If you think downing sinners is fun now, wait until we have that edge of knowing everyone’s business! Blackmailing will be so easy, which will result in more contracts, which will result in more power! So…what do you think?”

For the bravado Vox was putting out, he was shaking. His own smile strained as tries to better gauge Alastor’s emotions. The other customers nearby seemed to know the tense atmosphere as they were leaning away from their table. Some outright fled as they threw money on the table. 

On his part, Alastor seemed unmoved. Smile small as he placed his utensils down and stared off into the distance. Hands clasped together as a finger tapped on the back of the other. As the minutes passed, the more hopeless Vox felt. Wanting to say something that could save this no doubt dying relationship, but didn’t know what he could say. Even worried that uttering a single noise would result in his head being popped off. 

The torturous time ended when Alastor picked his fork back up to take another bite. “Is this just a business meeting, Vox?”

Said demon was a little off put by the question, “What…do you mean? What else would I be talking about?”

“I’ve never held a possible business meeting at a café before. Even more so, not one that’s my favorite.”

“Maybe…I wanted you to feel more welcomed to the idea?” Even Vox knew that was a stupid excuse. One that Alastor did not take. 

“You’re also nervous in the wrong way.”

“There’s a right way to be nervous?”

“I’ve had offers before this,” Alastor continued, “Those individuals weren’t nervous, they were cocky. They held the same reasoning and logic as you brought up as to why I should join them. But they only became nervous when I said no. And then began to tear them and their workers apart. Still, nerves were not present on the forefront of the matter. You, however, have been a nervous wreck from before I even sat down.” 

“Well…I’m probably a smaller business owner than those previous to me.” 

“Do you think I would hurt you?”

“No… Yes? I-I can never tell with you, if I’m honest.”

“Nothing to be ashamed about. I do have that air of mystery about me. Will I kill you psychologically? Will I actually kill you? Who knows. But if I can calm your possible fears about that. No, I would never kill you.” 

Vox’s heart skipped a beat in happiness. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. So, if I’m going to be honest with you, why don’t you be honest with me? What’s the purpose of this little meeting Vox?”

Knowing he’d beck talked into a corner, the slouched position returned. Vox uncomfortably aware they were the center of attention still. Nervously clawing at the tabletop, he whispered out, “Are you…interested in going steady?”

“Pardon? I couldn’t quite hear you.” Alastor said with his full smile back, chin resting on his hand. 

“Do you want to- Would you be interested in dating?” 

Whelp, Vox really wanted to throw up at this point. Unable to look up as he awaited for some kind of answer. Maybe if he’s killed, he’ll be taken out fast enough to be out of this situation. Even be given a chance to reform in a quiet area so he could lick his wounds in a different way alone. 

“I suppose if I were able to give anyone a chance, it should be you.”

Vox’s head snapped up at that. Wide eyes narrowed in on Alastor, who looked so at ease for what they were talking about. “Wait- really? You…You really want to… Really? But you’ve never shown interest in anything romantic to anyone, ever.”

“Because that would mean I found them interesting, and I don’t. Unlike you. You can hold my attention for hours, and I’ve not held that for another soul in years. If you’re wanting to pursue something of a relationship, then I’m more than happy to try.” 

“Um, yes, please! That would be great!” Nerves were now replaced with giddiness to the point where Vox was worried he’d be shorting out soon. Something that Alastor caught on to very quickly. 

“Try and breathe, my Picture Box, you’re going to make yourself faint.” Reaching over, Alastor gently took one of Vox’s hands. 

Instead of helping, Vox’s head jerked to the side before the screen flickered and turned dark. Alastor was quick to react with his shadow double popping up to keep the other demon in the chair. 

Laughing softly, Alastor turned to one of the cowering patrons. “He’s going to be the next Overlord. Such a charmer, this one.”

[winwintea]

the last dance - huang renjun

PAIRING ▸ painter!huang renjun x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, angst, lots of angst, supernatural, wayyy too much angst

WARNINGS ▸ angst. and character death

SUMMARY ▸ you've fallen in love with the gentle painter, renjun. though the locals call you a witch, renjun doesn't seem to care. but that all changes when they come to kill you. no matter how much pain it causes, you'll never regret falling in love with him.

WORD COUNT ▸3.7k (not proofread 😭)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ suffer

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

Something feels quite warm… it was an unusually comforting warmth, and it lay right beside you. You opened your eyes- “Renjun?” The source of the warmth was the human Renjun, who was lying next to you in bed. Strange. What is he doing asleep in your room? And yet, all your questions and concerns disappeared when you looked at his sleeping face. He was as beautiful as an angel. Renjun had more than an angel’s good looks. He had the heart of one too. 

You recalled your first real conversation, just a few days after he’d arrived here. There had been an accident in the stables with one of our horses. Renjun was going to be trampled. You’d pushed him out of the way. He carried your bruised and broken body inside, apologizing all the while… “Oh, god…! Oh, miss, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt! I should have gotten out of the way…!” 

You felt so bad seeing Renjun blame himself, that before you knew it you were saying, “It’s all right. You mustn’t fear for me. I’m what they call… a witch.”

“A witch?” “See for yourself. My wounds…they’re gone.” You gestured towards your arms, displaying them for him to see.

“So, you can… cast magic?”

“...Not exactly. Humans are quick to label all they deem as frightening witches, but my true title is an eterni.”

“‘Frightening?’” “Yes. Those who know of us and this place fear it and refuse to talk about it. It’s all quite silly, when you pause to think!” I tried to laugh it off in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Renjun looked serious.

“You don’t have to smile if it makes you sad. You don’t have to lock away your emotions. That forced smile doesn’t look right on you. And they shouldn’t call you such awful names. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a person, just like me. And a nice one, too.” “But I’m not like you, I’m a-” “Your wounds may heal fast, but did they hurt when you got them?” 

His point resonated with me. You’d never had a human care so much. The ice that had formed around your heart after so much pain and betrayal began to melt with his words. Could you… trust him? “See, Y/n? There’s nothing separating you and me. Nothing that I care about.” After that, you and Renjun began to spend more time together. To the exclusion of the other men Ricky had brought. That didn’t mean you expected to see him in your bed! Just then, Renjun stirred… “..mmhm..Good…morning… huh? Y/n? What are you doing in my bed?” “I’m afraid you’re in my bed, Renjun.” “...I am…?” Renjun sat up and looked around in shock. “... I woke up thirsty in the middle of the night and went to the kitchen for some water. I guess I ended up in your room. Sorry, I still don’t know this place well!” He was even charming when he was guilty. Renjun truly seemed descended from the angels. “Do not apologize. You were warm, so I was rather happy to have you in bed with me.” “Um.. you were?” “I mean, it’s not the fact that you were in bed with me that made me happy! It was-” Actually, there’s nothing incorrect about what you said. It DID make you happy. You couldn’t seem to explain it right. 

Renjun leaned forward in bed, looking at you. “Are you saying I’m like a dog?” “A dog?” “Yeah. Like you felt happy because it was just like sleeping with a big, warm dog?” 

Of course it wasn’t the same. Because Renjun, I’ve fallen in love with you…

You’d fallen in love with the man who smiled at you and told you, you were the same. He had let you feel what you’d never felt before. But you’d decided not to tell this to Renjun. For you were soon to leave this world… “There’s nothing to fear. I don’t think of you as a dog. Although, you are a bit like a puppy.” “Wait, so now I’m a smaller dog…?” “I simply mean that you’re cute. Now, you will want breakfast, of course. And after that, you’re going to paint, aren’t you?” He smiled and nodded. Truly, you couldn’t bear to darken such a bright smile with your grim fate.

—

Changing into his artist’s apron, Renjun set up his easel in the garden. He got to work quickly and quietly, the mark of a professional. Renjun’s profession was painter. He specialized in portraits.

“Now that the underlying sketch is complete, you’re going to add in the color-?” “That’s right. This is actually my favorite part of the job. Though it’s the most challenging.” In one hand, he held his palette, thick dollops of paint creating a cascade of colors. 

While pretending to read, you surreptitiously watched Renjun at work. You had once asked him why he chose portraiture of all subjects. Renjun told you that he wanted to capture the emotions of his subjects in the moment. How they lived, not just the way they looked. You could see yourself spending an eternity with someone as wonderful as him. But that was wrong for him. His life and his work was so passionately mortal. Renjun captured what was everlasting. You could not take away what he was. “...Yep, it’s time for a break.” “Renjun, may I ask you something?” He shook his head and nodded, “I was hoping you could promise me something. Once the full moon comes, the gate will open and you’ll be free to leave the mansion.” Renjun nodded again, curiosity in his dark almond eyes. “When that happens, I want you to paint as many portraits as possible. To capture as many smiles on your canvas as you can.”

His voice was soft when he spoke again, “All right. I promise. But first, can you tell me something in exchange?” Those beautiful eyes of his suddenly became clouded, “Why did your butler bring us here in the first place? What did you need?” It was the question you’d most feared. “I’ve just been thinking. You haven’t tried to attack anyone, so… why?”

He was right in that he was brought here for a purpose. Renjun and the others had been brought here for you to turn into lesser eterni to continue the line… and save your life. But you had rebelled against that notion and chosen to fade away instead of sharing a fate you found worse than death… “There was no reason, not really! You see, it has been Ricky and me alone for so long now. It seems Ricky got the silly notion that I might want more company. That I would feel lonely now for the first time in centuries! It’s unfathomable, don’t you think?” “Well, I can’t say, since I haven’t lived even a fraction of your lifetime, but I don’t think loneliness is something you get used to. I think you can feel it at any time. And that you can’t easily ignore it.” Renjun spoke to your soul. His paintings could reveal someone’s true self; his words had the same power. “Hey, Y/n? After the gate opens and we’re let out, is it possible to come back? Could I come back and see you?” He wanted to come back here? Your heart ached with a desire to say yes… but you will be gone as soon as he leaves. “That would be a terrible idea. What if you got trapped here for another month? You should spend that time painting!” “I’ll find the time. I’ll make it work.”

“You really can’t. You mustn’t.” Renjun wasn’t satisfied but he didn’t argue, “Hmm. If I can’t… then tell me what I can do to help you now, before I leave.” How could he be so kind? If you could request one thing of Renjun… “Would you dance with me before the full moon has taken it’s place in the sky?” “You want me to dance with you?” “Yes. I used to love dancing, but I’ve lost anyone to dance with a long, long time ago. How does that sound?” “Of course I’ll dance with you. I might need some time to practice if I’m going to be any good at it. Can you wait a little?” You nodded, feigning a smile.

I’m sorry, Renjun. It’s true that I love dancing and dreamed of sharing a dance with the one I love.

Pureblood eterni stop aging past a certain point, which is why we can never stay in one place else we can be caught. And so you’d never sought out love, with a human or eterni. You could not risk them suffering the horrendous fate of your family. Please allow me this selfish wish. A last memory of you that I can carry with me until the end…

—

Ricky tended to the front gardens, though his heart was not in it. “Hmm? That is most curious.” There appeared to be a stake planted just outside the gate. Attached to it was a sign. “...This…is not good!” Ricky’s cries were unfortunately heard by Renjun who had happened to be nearby, “Hey, Ricky. What’s that sig-” Renjun stopped and read it for himself. The sign read: “The occupants of this cursed residence have been found guilty of witchcraft and will be punished with death.” “‘Witchcraft’? They must mean Y/n.” “How did you know madame has-?” “Early on, she told me she’d been called a witch before.” “My lady has done nothing wrong-! Some years ago, I..I had encouraged her to visit the city. But there was an accident. She saved people with no thought to her own safety, but when they saw her wounds heal rapidly, they called her a witch.” “She’s always sacrificing herself to help others.” Renjun’s gaze fell, his voice soft. “Ricky, have you gotten these kinds of notices before? Any threatening letters?” “No. Not since we hid ourselves away. This is all my fault. Because I trapped the five of you here, they’ve come to kill us..” Ricky, normally calm and collected, was shaken to his core; steel eyes now pale with fright. “The gates will open on the full moon. If they storm the mansion, there is nothing we can do. Oh, Madame, what have I done?” “Ricky, it’s going to be all right. If they do come, I’ll talk to them. Once they know we’re all right they’ll understand. I won’t let them kill Y/n or you. Listen, you had some reason for bringing us here, right? Some reason important enough to risk being discovered?” Ricky was startled out of his thoughts, though any words died on his tongue, “If you don’t want to say what it is, that’s okay. Let me say something instead… I’ll help you protect Y/n. No matter what. So don’t worry. I’ll be all right.” Ricky said nothing as Renjun continued on, “First let’s make sure the others don’t find out about this, especially Y/n, okay?” Renjun moved some vines to disguise the view of the sign from their side of the gate, “It hurt her enough to be called a witch. I don’t want her to have to know about this.” “Why do you care so much for madame?” “I guess I only have one answer to that… I love her. So of course I want to protect her.” Renjun spoke, his voice strong and true. “Sir Renjun, I must-” “What is it Ricky?” “If you are indeed… in love with the Madame, then I feel as if I must tell you something. Though my lady forbid me to speak of it, on the night of the full moon she will…” —

The final days passed frighteningly fast. At last, the full moon began to reveal it’s pale form beyond the horizon. You can feel it. Somehow, you know when the moon reaches it’s final point, your end will come. You changed into a dress suitable for dancing and waited for Renjun’s arrival. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Y/n.” “Renjun!” He met you on the balcony, stunning in his suit and his angelic smile. “You look especially beautiful tonight. Of course, you always look pretty.” “You think so?” “Yeah. I mean, I think you already know I’m no good at lying.” “I had some idea. Thank you, Renjun.” Renjun turned his hand up and held it out, “Will you give me this dance, my lady?”

You’d danced with stylishly dressed partners. Renjun, wearing the jacket he arrived in and a touch of moonlight, outshone them all. “...It would be my pleasure.” I lay my hand in his and we took our first steps together. There was no orchestra playing for us. There were no chandeliers, just the moon above. But you would rather be dancing here, than in the grandest dance hall. You had not expected your last night to end in such a pleasant way. With this as your final memory, you could happily turn to ash. Or so you told yourself. “Renjun, the gate will be opening any moment. It may already be open, in fact.” Renjun said nothing. Perhaps he was looking for the words to say goodbye? “Do not worry. There’s nothing you need to say. Though before you go, I wish to thank-” “Don’t say thank you like you’re saying goodbye.” His voice was still ringing in your ears when you realized Renjun was now holding you tight. “Renjun? Wh-what is it?” “I promise I won’t let you die.” “...W-what do you…?” “Ricky told me that if you don’t let a human drink your blood by tonight, you’ll turn to ash.” The peaceful lie you had created shattered. So it had come to this. “But then they become an eterni. And you’d rather disappear yourself, than do that to someone. Right?” There was nothing to say. He was right. “I don’t want you to disappear, Y/n. Won’t you let me drink your blood instead?” The arms that held me and the voice that pled with me were all shaking. “Renjun, I cannot do that.” “Why not?” He broke from me, his gaze pained. “Look at me, Y/n.”

Suddenly there were shouts from below. Angry shouts. They were getting louder. You leaned over the balcony to look out into the garden; you were shocked by what you saw. A crowd of humans were spilling through the open gates and into the mansion grounds. “...They’re here.” “Who are they? What is going on?” “It’s nothing. I’ll be right back. Please, promise me you’ll stay here.” He smiled as if to calm me, but Renjun raced down the stairs with frightening urgency. It obviously wasn’t nothing! You looked back at the townspeople outside your home. Torches and weapons–both real and improvised–held high. That mob. You had seen their kind before. You could not let Renjun go out there alone. No sooner had you exited into the foyer, you saw them coming in through the front door. They had taken Ricky. “Release the men you’ve taken prisoner and bring out the witch!” “I’ve been trying to tell you, we’ve already released them! As for the madame, I am afraid I cannot let you in to see her!” “He lies! I’m sure they’ve already killed them! MONSTERS! You and your devil’s mistress will pay with your lives!” Their cries for vengeance rose louder until they were furious and uncontrollable. They grabbed Ricky, restrained and shoved him, attempting to push him through the crowd at the door and outside. Five men go missing from the village. Of course they would come searching. And now, they’re here to kill us. I needed to do something, but fear–memories of my family’s brutal slaughter–froze me to the spot. Until I heard a voice. “She’s not a witch!” “Is that… Renjun? It’s you! You’re alive?!” “Yes, I’m alive! And she didn’t kill the others either! That’s why I won’t let you kill her!” You wanted to call out to him. They wouldn’t listen. “She’s bewitched you! Renjun, wake up! Remember who you are! You’re human!” Another added, “W-what if it’s too late? Where’s the witch? She may be speaking through him!” “No! Listen to me. I haven’t been bewitched and I’m not being controlled! Everyone, please. Let them both go. Put down your weapons so we can all talk.” “Renjun. All right. We can talk… just prove to us it’s still you. First, show us where the witch is-” Renjun was growing more and more annoyed at his peers, “Are you listening to me? She’s not a witch! I won’t let you see her until you understand.” “D-do you hear that? He’s protecting her! He’s become her familiar! It’s too late for him. Kill him! Then we kill the witch!” Two men grabbed him, one on each side. Another readied his weapon. You ran towards them. “Renjun!” Faster than a human could, you reached him; you threw your arms around him; you felt the blade that was meant for him piece you through. Over the fire and pain in my body, I heard a kind voice say, “Your wounds may heal fast, but did they hurt when you got them?” “Y/n…?” You opened your eyes and there was Renjun. Then he stared, stunned at his hand, red with crimson blood. “Your hand… you’re not hurt… are you?” “No. Y-you’re hurt… you’re b-bleeding… Why? I told you to stay there!” “I couldn’t… let you face them… alone…” Renjun looked in horror as the blood kept spreading. Your wounds were not healing this time. Your body had already reached its limits. Renjun turned his attention to the townsfolk as he shouted angrily, “Do you see now? Do you see what you’ve done? LOOK AT HER! She’s not a witch! Would a witch sacrifice herself to protect a human? W-would a witch-...?! …Get out. All of you, get out! Go! And never hurt this poor woman again!” What magic Renjun had used, I did not know. But his tears… an angel’s tears, had doused their murderous rage. Distantly, so distantly now, I heard the crowd disperse. When I opened my eyes, only Renjun and Ricky remained. “M-my lady, I will fetch some water! Give me… Just a moment and soon you will be-...” “No, Ricky… It is already time. Besides, I wish for you to stay.”

“Madame… this is all my fault.” Renjun on the other hand was equally as distressed as Ricky was, maybe even a little bit more, “Why? Why couldn’t I protect you? After I swore to keep you safe, I couldn’t!” “My dearest Renjun… You have protected me from more than you can possibly know…” He looked ready to cry. And so I took his hand and guided it to my heart. “You saved my heart from my fear…” “Your heart?”

“Do you remember…telling me nothing separated us…? And when you defended me just now.” I heard the quiet approach of death like the fall of sand from an hourglass. “It was thanks to you. I was able to save the ones important to me��I couldn’t die happier.” “Y/n…”

Thank you, Renjun, for descending from heaven to give me peace before the end. 

You could not see him anymore. But you could feel his hand. You squeezed it. “R-Renjun…?” “What is it Y/n?” You felt him lean in close.

“I was happy for the time we spent together… I loved watching you paint. P-please, will you paint more…? Will you show… everyone… your beautiful art..?” “Don’t go… Don’t go, Y/n…!” “I love you.” Those words softly escaped your lips as quick as your breath left.

“Y/n? Y/n, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me once more…” Moonlight seemed to emanate from your still features, until your body broke apart and dispersed into drifting ash. Only the memory of your smile was left now. Not the smile of a witch or human, but of an angel… — Though it felt as if life itself might stop for those who lost Y/n, time continued on. A few months after that night, Ricky carried a bouquet of sunflowers to lay on the grave memorializing Y/n. It was Renjun who had arranged for her ashes to be buried here. And today… “Sir Renjun, is that you?” “Hey Ricky. I had a strange feeling I might run into you here today.” “But of course. This is where my lady rests. And I swore to serve her faithfully until death. But what brings you here…?” “I’ve been painting another portrait. It’s just about finished. Would you like to see it?” Renjun set the portrait upon the easel. Ricky covered his mouth with his hands. But his eyes-he could not look away. For etched on the canvas was Y/n, smiling at him with her gentle smile. Renjun closed his eyes and recalled the words he’d shared with Y/n, not so long ago… “Renjun, may I ask you something? I was hoping you could promise me something. Once the full moon comes, the gate will open and you’ll be free to leave the mansion.” He realized then that she might have always known this was how it would end. “When that happens, I want you to paint as many portraits as possible. To capture as many smiles on your canvas as you can.”

Renjun turned to look at Ricky again, “I promised Y/n I’d paint portraits and make lots of people happy. And I will. But before I got started on that, well, there was one portrait I had to paint first. It’s the portrait of the person I wanted to bring a smile to the most.” “I believe madame must surely be watching you and smiling right now. Just like she is in your painting…” Renjun looked at her image and smiled back, tears in his eyes. The last thing to do was give it a title. “A promise to your smile.”

[spoopieere]

“Comfort”

Everything’s the same colour in your bedroom. I can’t even see you when the light shines in. I just know you’re in there, somewhere. And I don’t bother to look anymore.

——————————————————————————>

Preston and his peculiar bedtime quirks :)

Click for better quality.

(Pls zoom in and see all the details, I worked so hard on em-)

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

[orcelito]

Decided to add goro's suicidal thoughts to the counter (I'm now up to 17 things I'm counting lmfao) and Oof. It makes chapter 5 hurt even more, bc there r 6 concrete times in the narrative where he is actively feeling suicidal, & that number is only going to increase over time

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

[anantaru]

I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?

— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you

"you have nothing to worry about,"

"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.

your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.

"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"

"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.

"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.

and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.

"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.

scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.

scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.

but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.

but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.

he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.

truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.

with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.

there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.

he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.

does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.

to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.

enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.

your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.

scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.

a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.

scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.

you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.

"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.

scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.

inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.

it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.

"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.

frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.

one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.

"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart,  panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.

"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"

archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.

after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"

"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,

"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[dudeitiskarev]

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

[a-hazbin-reader]

OK ANOTHER IDEA

OK SO WE KNOW THAT ALASTOR IS A MAMAS BOY AND HAS AN AMAZING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER

SO WHAT IF ALASTOR HAD A FEM S/O BUT SHE HAS A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM, ITS JUST SO EMOTIONALLY TOXIC (especially with reader being an older sibling)

reader never tells him though because alastors relationship with his mom is good and she doesn’t wanna make him feel bad whenever he talks about her and one day readers mom comes to the hotel and reader DREADS it and becomes snappy but readers mom wins everyone over (of course alastor too). So when reader explains that she doesn’t want her mom around alastor can’t understand why and reader feels betrayed its only later when readers mom shows her true colors towards reader. And reader of course bites back (or at least tries too)

So basically angst to fluff and SORRY IF THATS SO MUCH😭😭

👀 Mommy issues??? 👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Emotionally Abusive mother, Reader suffering, Reader gets grabbed a few times, Ambiguous ending for mama

Description: ☝️⬆️

When it comes to mothers, it's safe to say you and Alastor had very different experiences

His mother was full of warmth and kindness towards him, doing her best to build him up into a great man

She loved him greatly and it shows whenever he talks about her

But your mother?? Your mother saw you as fucking competition and always found ways to put you down, to make herself better than you

Well maybe she should be the one who was cooking the meals, getting your younger siblings off to school on time or making sure everyone had clean clothes

Just the thought of her made your stomach flip and your legs shake

She would put you down all your life while claiming it was so that you could be a great woman just like her, but not too great, you have to remember who the better woman is

Well now you're both in hell so-

You put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, living your afterlife without her influence

You even got yourself a handsome powerful overlord boyfriend and new friends to share your life with

Even though you're supposed to be in hell, you couldn't be happier

At least you were until your mother showed up at the hotel, her face full of faux worry and tears

"Oh my precious girl! This is where you've been hiding? I was so worried!!"

Before Charlie can even shut the door, your mother has already shoved her way inside and literally dug her claws into you, hugging you

It's all you can do not to throw up, smothered by her familiar scent and grip, hearing her voice again after all this time

"Now let Mommy take a look at you-oh!!! And here I was worried that you were starving! Good to know you've put some weight on those bones!"

And it's already starting-

And now she's crying and rocking you in her arms, cooing about how much she's missed you and how she's never letting you go again

Charlie and the others are just staring at the two of you, completely enraptured by your mother, like everyone always is

She loved being the center of attention

When you finally come to your senses you push her away and create some distance, disturbed by the worried looks everyone is giving her

"Mom, why are you here?"

Oh don't everyone look at you like you're the bad guy!! She's the one who's only here because she wants something!!

"Maybe I wouldn't have to come track you down if you would just visit your poor mother every once in a while...she never even calls me, you know!"

And now she's crying again, Charlie immediately going to comfort her while Vaggie gives you a dirty look

Fucking mommy issues much? Don't fall for this crap

"I don't want to visit you, so just leave-"

"Well now, who is this~?"

Alastor! Yes! He can make her leave! You turn to give your boyfriend a pleading look but your mother catches his attention first

"Oh don't worry about who I am.. just a poor lonely mother who came to see her daughter...but I guess I'll show myself out.."

Alastor doesn't have to guess who she's talking about, even in death you always looked like your mother

His smile gets surprisingly warm and soft, taking your mother's hand in his own in a disgusting display of affection that used to only be for you

"You're Y/N's mother? My my, I should've guessed! You must have so many stories of her from her life! I simply must insist that you say."

ALASTOR NO

You feel sick but nobody notices, your mother already soaking up their attention and winning their hearts

So you turn and leave the hotel, unable to stand being in her presence any longer, you don't miss the smug look she gives you on your way out

You spend all day trying to avoid going back to the hotel until you're sure your mother is gone

You're more than disappointed to find her drinking tea with Alastor, the two of them laughing, her placing her hand on top of his

She always used to try and go after your boyfriends and that hasn't changed either

She hasn't changed

"Oh darling~! We hadn't realized you left! Alastor and I were simply having a moment~"

Alastor lights up when he sees you, only to be visibly confused by your troubled expression

"Y/N! Your mother was just telling me about her life before you! She was quite a wildcard back then!"

Your mother is practically drooling over him, rubbing his hand and winking

"I'm still wild if you ever care to find out!"

You've had it

You tug your mother's hand off of Alastor, forcing her to stand up and look you in the eyes

"You need to leave! Right now!"

And here come the waterworks again

"Y/N..! Darling, what did I do wrong? I'm your mother please don't throw me out like this!"

You just start pushing her towards the door and you slam it shut behind her, sighing in relief

That is until you look at Alastor's face, his smile seeming strained

"Y/N! You can't just throw her out like that, not only is that bad manners but that's no way to treat the woman who raised you!"

Raised you? You raised yourself!!

"Alastor, you don't know what you're talking about so please just stay out of it. You don't know what she's like-"

You're trying to stay calm-

"She's your mother, it's not like she's some evil creature-"

"SHE'S IN HELL OF COURSE SHE'S EVIL-"

"So are you and I, my dear."

You try to put your foot down, tell him that you don't want her here but he's already opening the door for her and letting her back in

She looks so pleased with herself

He invites her to stay the night because of course he does, he would do it for his own mother so why not yours

You try not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry but your eyes are already hot and watery

"I-I'm going to bed..!"

Alastor calls for you, trying to resolve things then and there but the only response he gets is your door slamming shut

He goes to go after you but your mother stops him with a gentle hand to the shoulder

"Now now...let her cool off for a bit then I'll go make sure she's alright, a mother always knows how to cheer up her child~"

It feels like you spend hours crying in your bed, feeling so hurt that Alastor took her side over yours

Your mom isn't like his, she doesn't nurture, she just takes from you and bullies you

Later, just when you've about cried yourself to sleep, you hear the bedroom door open

"Alastor..?"

"Not a chance, pet."

Now what does she want

"Why are you even here?"

Suddenly she pounces on you, grabbing your wrists tightly, eyes wild with fury she must've been containing this whole time

You don't even know why she's so mad at you, you haven't seen her in years-

"You think you're better than me now, is that it? Now that you're on your own, living in some fancy hotel, got some powerful boytoy, hiding behind hell's princess?"

As a kid, she seemed so strong but now you easily rip out of her grasp and manage to create some distance between you two

"I'm not hiding behind anyone! I'm just trying to get away from you!"

"Oh no no no, that's not how this works! I am your mother! If I have to be miserable and live in filth then so do you!"

"Why are you even here!?"

"Because it's not fair! I deserve to be here! Not some ungrateful little bitch who just happened to fall out of me!"

She lunges at you and you try to dodge her but she manages to grab you by your hair, yanking you back

You're about to start swinging when Alastor is suddenly there, watching the two of you in bewilderment

Then that bewilderment melts away into understanding, then anger

The radio sounds in the room are suddenly deafening, your mother letting go of you so she can cover her ears

You take the chance to kick her away, watching as she tumbles and loses consciousness from the impact

Alastor kneels beside you but you flinch away from him, still feeling hurt

"Y/N...I'm so sorry..." He does look properly ashamed, his smile a little watery

"Why didn't you just tell me that she was like this..?"

How could you even begin to start?? That you didn't want to somehow sour his opinion of mothers by telling him about your own?

That you didn't want him to feel guilty for having a mother who loved him while you grew up having to be a mother to your siblings because your own mom had none to give??

It's just word vomit at this point, but Alastor simply gathers you into his arms, tutting as he checks your scalp and fixes your hair

When he gets to your wrists where your mother grabbed than his smile turns positively venomous, giving your mother a deadly look

"What do you want me to do with her? Anything you ask..."

You're a little irritated that he brought her up, having been too relaxed by the feeling of his lips against your palm

"I just want her out of here..."

And that's all it takes, Alastor calls for Niffty and has her take out the trash, her scuttling out gleefully while dragging your mother

Niffty doesn't even care, she's just happy to have a new toy

You didn't realize how stressed out you were until it was just the two of you, Alastor rubbing your back soothingly

You don't know when you fall asleep but when you wake up Alastor is kissing the side of your face, looking as apologetic as he can be

You manage to convince him to apologize in morning snuggles and by the time you two come downstairs everyone else is awake

"Where is Y/N's mom?"

Not Niffty giggling and running out of the room

Alastor simply shakes his head and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you closer

"She is gone and won't ever be visiting again, I would like to ask that nobody brings her up again~"

Something about the way he says it manages to shut everyone up

Alastor takes you out to eat your favorite breakfast and spends the day spoiling you

He doesn't bring up the events of last night until the two of you are in bed, entangled in each other's arms

"You didn't ruin my opinion of mothers, you know."

"I didn't?"

"No, in fact, it sounds like you were quite the mother back in your day~"

Not his hand rubbing your belly

OH MAMA THIS ONE TOOK ALL DAY! I hope you liked it!!

[spicyhamsamson]

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

[wifeyoozi]

Kim Mingyu : Best Friend Rule 57

w.c : 1.6 k ┊ synopsis : the 57th rule of the bestfriend rule book states, "thou must giveth a head to thy bestie in the time of need." ┊ content warning : smut ,, best friends to ...?? ,, blowjobs ,, gn!reader ,, coming down the throat

a/n : mdni !! not completely beta read. This is just me being horny af for mingyu recently.

This is fine, Mingyu thinks. He has shared rooms before. He has shared rooms with you before as well – with his best friend and, for a long while now, his crush. He could do this. He forces his focus on the sappy rom-com movie playing on the cable TV in the hotel room from the fact that you are pressed closed against him on the hotel bed, sharing packet popcorn with him. You are mostly eating it, he's barely even watching the movie.

Some time ago after you settled on the bed beside him, you'd huddled over to him, “Gyu, scoot over. The TV is kinda weird, I can't see properly unless I'm looking right from the centre,” You said as you snuggled against him.

Snuggled against him, until you were pressing your bare thighs to his clothed ones and your arms pressed up till there was a thin sweaty layer in between, your head resting on his shoulder.

He tried to change his position a little, gripping on the comforter tighter around his waist, just hoping you wouldn't notice his, well, little developing problem in his sweatpants.

The movie ended too soon after that and you sighed, “fun movie to waste a Saturday on, no?”

Mingyu hums, about to suggest another movie, because he's a sucker in love who'd spend two more hours suffering in silence in his pants to spend some quality time with his crush.

Instead, you opened your phone screen, reading a text, “uh, the team is doing a campfire night, you wanna join? They brought beer and all.”

“Uhm, no I'll pass tonight. A little tired,” Mingyu said with a smile as you stood up and yawned, stretching your limbs a little. The last thing he wants is to take his little problem outside this room to the rest of the coed basketball team. He'd never heard the end of it from soonyoung, and the thought alone makes him wanna die already.

He watched as you stretched your arms, your shirt sticking tight to your chest, your nipples pebbled under prominently visible. He has never looked away faster. Were you not wearing anything under that flimsy shirt? Were you planning to go to the rest of the team like that? The thought simultaneously made mingyu jealous and turned on and he tried not to let either show up on his face.

“Alright, suit yourself! Don't miss me too much,” you said, winking playfully as you walked outside the room, closing the door behind you.

Mingyu let out a big breath he didn't know he had been holding. He shakes his head before getting up and leaving to the bathroom briefly to get the box of tissues papers. He didn't have lube – of course he wouldn't bring one to his college’s basketball team picnic – so his spit would have to do.

He sighed, taking his aching dick out finally. It's not his ideal style. The bedsheet is scratchy and cold and the headboard hits his head at an awkward angle, but he shifts himself till he's fairy comfortable.

He pulls his shirt to his armpits, fingers of his one hand brushing over his nipple as he spits over his other hand and takes his dick. He gives himself a few lazy strokes, trying to bring his dick to a full erection. He glanced over to where you say beside him, impulsively grabbing your pillow and putting it against his face. Just as he imagined, your perfume lingered on the fabric of it.

He wasn't in a hurry, he knew you would take time if you were going to drink with the boys. He had plenty time.

He thought of you as he stroked himself sensually, occasionally reaching up and flicking and pinching his nipples. He feels intoxicated by your scent in him. He tugs off his boxers till it's pooled around his ankles. He slowly increases his speed, his thumb pressing over the tip where the precum leaked.

He was getting closer to his releasing, your name softly leaving his lips in whimpering whispers.

He heard the door open. Shit.

He has the exact time to either pull down his shirt or pull up his pants before you'd be face to face with him.

Not being able to think properly with his fogged mind, he chose to pull down his shirt instead, leaving his fisted cock out in the open for you to see when you entered.

Your eyes widened, a brown bag in your hand, “i, uhm, thought that, uhm, I'd get us some take out.”

You're flustered, but not as much as him. He is completely frozen, his hand doing little to hide anything about the size or hardness of his cock.

“I-i uhm,”

“That's okay!” You rushed in to say, “I, uhm, I'm your age too! People have, err, urges! That's completely normal, y’know.”

Mingyu is strongly aware of your gaze over his penis as you keep the bag of take out on the floor and climb on the bed beside him. He retreats back of shyness, bringing his knees closer to conceal himself a little.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “uhm, y/n-”

“Shit, you're, like, so big, mingyu,” you chuckle breathily, pushing his knee away. Mingyu would almost think that it was yet one of his sick fantasies, except it wasn't. Mingyu was aware and proud of his well endowed body, but he never knew the things it would do to him hearing it from you. Suddenly mingyu didn't know what words were.

“Should I help you?” you ask him as if you were offering coffee, “friends help each other, right?”

Friends help each other. Friends help each other with a fucking erections.

“Y/n,” mingyu shudders as your finger gently hovers over his red angry tip. He'd meant to say, don't say stuff you don't mean or will regret later. Instead, the words that slip his tongue are, “don't tease.”

You chuckle slightly, “okay, gyu, I won't,” taking a firm grip of his cock above his own fist. A breathy moan leaves his lips. You meet his eyes once, staring deep before looking back at his dick, “gyu, do you think I can fit your dick in my mouth?”

And that is how kim mingyu (born 1997, sex male) died at the tender age of 21. The team would have to carry his body tomorrow. His tomb stone would say, died of blowjob offers. Mingyu thinks – nevermind, Mingyu can't think anymore. His brain is fogged up with the thought of your pretty pink lips around his cock. Fuck.

“You can try,” he mutters softly. He takes his hand off his dick, allowing you full access. You pushed your hair back and wrapped your soft lips around his head. No foreplay, no kitten licks, no jerking him off. You took him in his mouth directly, pushing your head down till you felt his dick filling up your mouth.

You sucked on the length in your mouth, wrapping your hand the remainder of what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Mingyu groaned, his hands grippinng the sheets tightly. Your mouth was hot and warm and wet. So fucking wet. Your technique is a bit sloppy, but mingyu loves it nonetheless. He'd love anything with you and his dick in a single picture.

You take out his dick from your mouth, looking up at him with red lips and flushed face. Fuck, are you pretty.

“Shit, I didn't know it was this hard,” you say, chuckling, “sucking a dick, I mean. You are as hard as it can be.”

“You've… never given a blowjob before?”

“No, why would I?” It was a dumb question on his end, dumber on yours. Neither of you was thinking straight about it though, so it's fine.

“friends can help each other,” he thoughtlessly echoed your words.

“Well, not any friend,” you chuckled. “You're my best friend, gyu!”

Mingyu momentarily wondered if you were even hearing yourself. It felt like a unspoken bestie rule mingyu was unaware about till now, that you must give your best friend a head in time of need. Because you seemed so serious like this was a normal best-friends activity to do, casually sucking their dick.

“Can you shift here? The angle is awkward like this, I think I can take it better if I kneel in front of you,” you tell him, motioning towards the end of the bed. He nods without even bothering to think, shifting at the edge of the bed till his legs hungoff the bed. You shifted on the floor, in between his legs. You looked up at him, taking his leaking erection in your hand and placing it in your mouth.

You forced your gag reflexes to relax and took him as deep in your throat as you could, till your nose was buried in his pubic hair. You sucked him off genuinely, eyes staring deep into his the whole time. He held your hair back, guiding your head to bob up and down on him. He threw his head back, moaning shamelessly despite being aware of the cheap hotel walls as he recieved what felt like one of the best blowjobs he's ever had.

It didn't take long for him to cum spilling down your throat.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” he took out his dick as you choked on his cum, the remainder of it spurting on your lips and cheeks. You coughed a little but swallowed his cum. Mingyu looked at you with wide eyes, realising what you did.

You grab a tissue paper from the bedside table and wipe your mouth. You flash him a smile, “I'll take a quick shower and then we could continue watching another movies while eating the take outs. Why don't you pick this time?”

“Aren't you going for the drinks by the bonfire with the rest of the team?” Mingyu asks dumbly.

“Nahh, I'll pass. Soonyoung and Chan always end up getting super drunk, causing a mess,” you say, getting up to head to the shower.

If Mingyu saw a super wet spot in your shorts and that made his dick twitch, it's nobody's business.

Though he would be down to give you a head if you needed it after your shower. Isn't that what the besties do after all!

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER 

You’ve been trying to get a boyfriend to get over your one sided crush, but being known as Yuta’s girl across campus is a major cockblock for your romantic endeavours. The worst part? You’re not even dating.

wc — 4.8k

tags — pining, childhood friends to lovers, jealous Yuta, possessiveness, college au, Getou #1 wingman Suguru but only cause he gets a kick out of watching Yuta suffer, Yuta and you are so delusional, some suggestive content

♫: cologne — beabadoobee

This is the fifth boy that’s turned you down so far. You’re starting to wonder if something’s wrong with you. 

As with all of your woes, it ends with you at Yuta’s apartment. Is it pathetic to be comforted for your failed attempts at flirting by the boy you’re in love with? Very. Do you trust anyone else but Yuta not to make fun of you? No. 

“Yuta,” you whine into his stomach. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs tucked neatly together to form a cushion for your head. “Am I ugly?” 

He drops his controller instantly, muttering a quick sorry to Inumaki who’s suddenly left single handedly defending their team against the enslaught of monsters. “Why would you say that?” 

He pinches your cheeks between two fingers, squishing your face until your lips form an ‘o’. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world! Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

Clearly not, or Yuta would have you. He’s just saying that because he has to. He’s your best friend.

“Did someone say something to you?” He asks. 

“So you do think I’m ugly!” 

Yuta grabs you by the wrists and hauls you upright so you’re face to face on the couch, knees uncomfortably entangled with his as you’re forced to sit up. He’s too earnest, too eager as he presses your hands together in his grip and says, “Everything about you is pretty! I never want to hear you say that again. Don’t disparage the eyes and lips and nose that I love.” 

This is the reason why you can never get over him. How can you when he says things like that? If you hadn’t known Yuta since you were five, you would say he was leading you on. But because you’ve grown up together, you know it’s just the way he is, like the sky is blue or the sun is warm. Yuta just loves you - but not like that. Not in the way you want. 

Never in the way you want. 

It’s been difficult. You and Yuta have no secrets between you, or at least you used to. It’s a side effect of growing up practically out of the same womb. What’s his is yours and vice versa. When you share everything with each other, it goes against your very nature to hold things back. Your secret strains at your lips, climbing up your throat, constantly begging to be set free even as you suppress it. 

“You’re making me sad,” he says, poking at your cheek at your silence. He’s trying to provoke you. “Why can’t you see yourself the way I do?” 

Normally he can get a smile out of you under any circumstance, so it distresses him not to be able to cheer you up instantly. He’s your best friend, the only one you have. You’ve been together your entire lives. Would telling him really change everything? 

You want to trust him more than the fear that he would reject you. Even if he can’t love you back the way that you want him to, at least this nightmare would be over. You could learn to accept what he was willing to give you, in time. Isn’t it a slight against the love you share to doubt him like this? 

But you’re scared. A childhood friend is irreplaceable. You can make new friends, but you can never get another Yuta. You’ll never be able to replicate the way he’s shared all of the bumps and bruises of your childhood with someone else. His mother has a box of your baby teeth that she keeps with her mementoes of his childhood. Who else can you say that about? You can’t risk it. 

“Yuta. Stop flirting and get your ass back in the game before we die!” 

Inumaki’s normally quiet voice hits a volume so loud it echoes through the headset. Yuta winces. Sorry, he mouthes at you. Talk later. 

God damn it, Inumaki. You were so close. 

“It’s not my fault,” he says through a mouthful of rice at lunch the next day. “How was I supposed to know that’s what you guys were talking about? I thought you guys were making your usual goo goo eyes at each other, not making breakthroughs.” 

“To be fair,” Panda says. “We never thought you were going to make a breakthrough, so it can’t be Inumaki’s fault.” 

“Ouch,” you rest your head against the cool linoleum of the table. “Way to let me down easy, guys.” 

“Come on,” Inumaki pushes his miso soup at you in a show of contrition. “You know we’re just joking.” 

“I know, I’m just annoyed cause you’re right - keep your mouth shut, Inumaki. He’s never going to see me that way.” 

“Didn’t you just jump from friend to potentially attractive friend? Sounds like a win to me,” Inumaki says. 

“For anyone else, yeah. For Yuta, it probably just means he’s going to start setting me up with his friends so I realize I’m pretty.” 

Inumaki and Panda share a look. You know the look. It means they think you’re being dumb. 

You steal Panda’s soup too as payback. 

Inumaki and Panda are easy to talk to about Yuta. More often than not, they’re the ones who bring up your relationship woes first because Inumaki loves teasing you and Panda secretly loves rom coms.

It’s a complete contrast from your other best friend. You’re too scared to tell Maki about the latest development in your relationship because she hates hearing about it. She’s a good friend who cares about you and your feelings, or so she claims, but she can’t stand watching you drag your feet. 

“Just confess already,” she hisses, using her textbook to shield her face from the professor. 

“I can’t! It’ll ruin everything!” 

“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps back, unaware of the professor walking towards her. You try to gesture at her to shut up, but she’s too focused on saying her piece. 

“Ladies. Would you like to continue your riveting discussion outside?” 

Even getting kicked out of class isn’t a deterrent for Maki. “Fine. You won’t confess to Yuta. What about your other plan?”

“No one will talk to me because they think I’m dating Yuta,” you wail as quietly as possible. 

“You serious?” She squints at you. “I’m telling you, just confess at that point.”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Fine! Ignore me if you want to, but you see that guy coming our way? Try it one more time so I can see.” 

Maki pushes you down the path towards him before you can say no. You have an inkling how this is going to go based off the five previous times you’ve tried this, but Maki’s stare is drilling holes into the back of your head. 

“Hey,” you smile. 

“No thanks,” he says immediately. “Just save yourself the trouble. No one’s stupid enough to go after Yuta’s girl.” 

“Yuta’s girl? What does Yuta have to do with anything? Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!” 

“Bark up the right tree enough times and eventually you’ll find the devil.” 

“…I think the saying is ‘if you knock on enough doors, the devil will answer.’ How did you even come up with that?” 

“I’m just saying! Feels like the answer’s obvious to me, Yuta’s girl.” 

“Argh!” You march back to Maki, who’s giggling to herself. You just hope that at least she’ll be able to help you after that embarrassing little display. “So? What’s your advice?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t have advice. I just wanted to see it happen in real time.” 

Maki’s no help, either. 

The problem with being in love with Yuta is he doesn’t even allow you the grace of trying to get over him. No one will touch with you a ten foot pole until Getou. 

Getou is two years your senior, thinks of Yuta as this cute little puppy that follows Gojo around, and looks just right for your purposes. He’s not a carbon copy of Yuta. He just shares features with him. If anything, he could be his older brother. He has long black hair instead of short, but the same haunted eyes. 

It’s better that way, easier to not cut too deep. You know exactly how far you can go before the pleasure of pain tips too far into the wrong side. If he looks like him just enough, then you can slip in between lucid dreams. Yuta’s face comes to you in flashes rather than consistently when you’re together with Getou. 

He’s a smart man. He picks up on it almost instantly. 

Another reason Getou’s perfect for you? 

He simply doesn’t care. It’s not his problem what his darling little underclassmen get up to as long as it doesn’t interfere with his life. If you just want to have a good time, he’s down for that too. 

If you weren’t so hung up on Yuta, you think Getou might be fun. Fun could turn into love, perhaps. But those were only what ifs that were useless to you. It’s Yuta, it’s always been. He’s the only one for you. 

You can’t lose him. 

But you want him in ways he isn’t willing to give you. Incessantly, he haunts you at odd hours. You’re doing homework at one in the morning when your thoughts wander and you’re thinking of him. The way he’d coach you through this problem. The sure, strong strokes of his handwriting, as familiar as your mother’s voice. 

It’s hopeless. Every part of you has already been attuned to Yuta since childhood. You can’t extricate yourself. You can only hope to outlast the growth, and cling on as long as you are able. The only concessions you can allow yourself are small ones. 

Yuta’s a good student who sleeps early, but he’ll pick up for you. He always does. You’re his childhood best friend after all, and that leaves a sour taste in your mouth even as you begrudge yourself your own greediness. 

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky and low in a way that you know doesn’t belong to you. You savor it anyways, these small intimacies you get to keep until he finds a girl of his own and doesn’t need you anymore. 

“Hello?” He says again. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?” 

“Just bored,” you reply, playing with your pen. “Sorry, were you asleep?” 

“Don’t play with my feelings like that,” he laughs. “We both know you knew I was. Want me to stay up with you?” 

“Nah. I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

“You know I’d want you to, anytime. Are you working on the paper from English?” 

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” you say, letting the smallest of smiles grace your lips. Alone in your room, you can allow yourself these small weaknesses. 

“Mm, but I wanna stay up with you,” he says, even as his voice grows softer and softer. You can almost picture him, hair sleep tousled and eyes half lidded. It’s a sight out of your dreams. 

“I’ll hang up when I’m done. Go to bed, Yu.” 

By the time you finish, you can hear his breathing evening out through the speakers. He’s a light sleeper, so you tip toe around as you finish getting ready for bed. When you have to hang up, you’re almost tempted to leave him on speakerphone so his soft breaths can lull you to sleep. 

You banish that unwelcome thought to the deepest, darkest, most remote time out corner of your brain and immediately text Getou to meet up the next day. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“You know,” Getou drawls, “keep calling me out like this and I might get the wrong idea.” 

“If you fall for a girl that only talks to you about how much she likes her crush, that’s your own fault.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “So what is it this time?” 

“I called him at night and his voice was so sleepy-“

“I meant,” Getou says, a finger running over the rim of his coffee cup as he looks at you. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Please make me forget him.” 

Getou smiles at you. “What a coincidence. I needed to blow off some steam today.” 

If you close your eyes, you can imagine someone else when Getou kisses you. One thing leads to another and he ends up taking you home. 

The thing about your relationship with Getou is it’s so ridiculously easy. There’s no strings attached for either of you, so when you wake up to his peaceful face in bed the next day, there’s no regrets. 

Well, except one. 

Getou’s a gentle lover in every way, but he’s a biter. There’s a trail of dark bruises blooming over your neck and collarbones. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He calls from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him. “I have to get breakfast with Yuta today.” 

He grins. “That’s the point.” 

You barely have time to messily apply concealer before you’re almost late to your appointment with Yuta. He’s waiting at the place he and you claimed as your own the very first day you arrived on campus. The nice granny who runs this diner has a soft spot for the two of you and often gives you free desserts. 

You slide into the seat across from him just as he’s wrapping up one of his readings for that day. He barely looks up when he feels you come closer, just lifts his arm wordlessly so he can tuck you into his side like a baby bird under its mother’s wings. He turns his head to the side even as his eyes are following the words on the page to press a light kiss to your temple, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his head against yours for a brief moment before returning to his textbook. He flips a page. 

Would he still allow you these gentle, nonchalant touches if he knew how you really felt? Your stomach drops at the intrusive fear that he might be disgusted by you afterwards, withdrawing the easy skinship he shares with you that he thinks nothing of, but you savor. You’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand against your shoulder as he lets his arm hand loosely around you. 

“I’m done,” he announces, stretching out so his lanky body is pressed flat to the table for a second before he straightens. He must be sore from hunching over his textbook all morning. In sympathy, you lightly rub at his shoulders. 

“Did you eat yet?” He asks. “Want me to order you something?” 

“No-“ You’re in the middle of replying when his face is suddenly far too close to you. 

“Hey there,” you laugh nervously. “What are you doing?” 

Yuta pulls back, but there’s a minute crease in his expression. 

“There’s something on your neck.” He says. 

“What?” 

His hand curls around the base of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a complete lack of pressure in his grip, fingers loose and curled. He’s just holding you. You inhale sharply, a recoil aborted. 

“Sorry,” he says, easy smile and gentle demeanor that doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re a little shadowed today, harried. He wears his emotions all over his face. You know he has a final today, that he likely didn’t sleep last night. It must be why he’s acting weird. 

His fingertips ghost over your neck, light tap-tap-tapping that makes you shiver. “What’s this?” 

You pull out your phone to check yourself in the camera. The concealer you put on this morning has sweated off, leaving streaks on your shirt. Underneath the smudges, the blurry outline of the marks Getou left on you last night are visible. 

Your face burns with mortification. 

“Yuta! You shouldn’t ask people stuff like that!” 

It’s not like he’s a child. You know he knows what a hickey is. He’s just pointing it out so you know he knows. 

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’d be more careful about what I was saying if it was anyone else, but it’s you. What the hell happened? It looks like you had a tryst with a vampire.”

Gingerly, he touches your neck again, his fingers cold from holding his iced latte. You need him to stop doing that before you do something stupid. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks. 

“It felt good-“ 

“Stop! I didn’t need to know that,” he says, face turning red. 

Defensively, you retort, “Well, you asked!” 

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I spent all of breakfast studying. What are you doing later?” 

“Hanging out with Getou, probably. He said he wants to go to this new restaurant that just opened up.” 

“He’s the one that gave you all those love bites?” 

At your nod, Yuta rolls his eyes. He’s certainly in a mood today. Poor thing. He’s been working really hard lately. Not just today, but every day this past week, he’s been studying non stop. You should reward him. 

“Don’t go with him,” Yuta coaxes. “Hang out with your best friend instead. We can have another sleepover. Don’t you want to game all night?

The decision is made before Yuta even offers you a choice. You text Getou a quick apology, to which he replies with a lazy ‘lol. Loverboy?’

You’re happy Yuta asked you to come over. You’ve spent so much time fearing how he’d react if he knew that you’d forgotten how nice it felt to just hang out with him. 

You’re cuddling with Yuta on his couch as you watch a movie. He opted for a quiet night instead of gaming, so he broke out the snacks and remotes instead of controllers. You wish there was a way to push him away without explaining what’s going on. You and Yuta have always been touchy like this, comfortable with each other in a way that superseded even the closest of friends. 

It was never abnormal until now, when new love has redefined every aspect of your relationship with him. It makes it awkward to touch him, to be this close. But you always want to be this close. It’s hard, fighting a war with yourself. 

You snuggle into the hoodie he lent you, trying to hide your face. Your eyes dart to him, watching him instead of the movie. His hair has a faint blue sheen from the screen. He’s enraptured, staring open mouthed at the action sequence. 

Your heart beats double time, as it always does around him, prey instincts going into fight or flight. Yuta just does that to you, makes your body sing like it’s in the most exquisite agony possible. Like a runner’s high, you’re addicted to the pain of having him but not having him. Even the scraps of romance you can get are worth more than a lifetime of other lovers. 

You hope he can’t tell. Yuta has always had weirdly sensitive senses. 

Yuta’s line of sight shifts from the TV to you. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped in the yawning black void of his gaze as he looks back, watching you as you have been watching him. 

‘Hey,’ he mouthes at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. 

‘Hey back,’ you mouth in return, wanting him, loving him, missing him. 

You rarely bring clothes when you’re staying the night at Yuta’s. Either he has some for you in a dresser he’s saved for your use, or you can just borrow his. You always end up changing into his clothes, anyways, so big and comfortable they swallow you up. 

He’s lying on his belly on the bed when you come out of the bathroom freshly showered and in his T-shirt. He looks up when he hears you. 

“Oh,” he says. He blinks once, hard. “Come here, please.” 

Self conscious, you cross the room to him. Your crush makes you miserable, coloring your every action. The fear that your desires are written across your face shadow every step you take. Are you that transparent? Can he tell? 

He reaches up to touch your face, reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, then he pulls you down onto the bed next to him. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you. Even this feels too much. His skin against yours feels like a thousand colts of electricity. Where his nose brushes against your nape is so sensitive you squirm in his grasp, kicking uselessly in his hold. 

“I only say things that are true,” he tells you solemnly. “You are pretty.” 

You don’t know how you’re supposed to sleep after that. 

In the morning, you’re finally back in your own set of clothes to head out and face the day. You and Yuta get ready together, running through your morning routines. You brush your teeth and eat breakfast side by side. 

Before he leaves for work, he spritzes himself with the cologne he leaves on the dresser. When you reach for the perfume you keep in his apartment, a twinning his and hers set you had gotten together one day during the holidays, he pins your hand down. With an appeasing glance over you, he spritzes his cologne on you instead. 

He leans in and sniffs experimentally. 

“You smell nice,” he says. 

You lift your wrist to your nose and inhale. 

“I smell like you,” you say, laughing. He smells like a crisp winter morning, a hint of pine and frost. 

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t have picked this scent if I didn’t like it.” 

It’s true. Nothing Yuta does is unintentional.

“What the hell,” Getou says as soon as he opens the door to you. “You reek.” 

Your face burns. 

Getou roars with laughter when you tell him why you smell the way you do. “What a brat,” he says. 

“Hey!” You feel the compulsion to defend Yuta against even the smallest of slights. It’s instinctual, even though you know Getou doesn’t really mean it. 

He shakes his head at you. “I really pity you, you know? You’re so whipped.”  

Hanging out with Getou doesn’t end in anything physical tonight. He injured himself playing volleyball with Gojo and he’s not interested in anything but good company. You don’t know if you’d be interested, either. It’s always easier to pretend you don’t want him after a little bit of distance. Trying anything right after seeing Yuta would only tear your heart apart. You and Getou pass the time in amicable silence, working on your separate assignments in the same room. 

Your phone buzzes three hours in. 

Yuta 4:15 You busy? 

You 4:24 With Getou Working on homework  Why?

Yuta 4:24  Come over  I miss you 

You 4:24  I saw you this morning 

Yuta 4:24  …

Yuta 4:25 …

Yuta 4:25  I always miss you when you’re not here 

Getou cackles. You jolt, startled. You had honestly forgotten where you were. 

“Is that loverboy?” He says, trying to grab the phone out of your hand so he can see the message. “You look so lovestruck.” 

You yank it back from him. “I gotta go.” 

“Abandoning me again?” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m really just a toy to you, huh?”

That makes you hesitate, even though you do want to see Yuta. 

He ruffles your hair. “Ah, youth. So gullible. I’m fine, sweetheart. Go see your beau. And send him my regards,” he says with a devious smile as he walks you to the door. His eyes light up when he sees the forgotten garment he had discarded on his coat rack. 

You look at him quizzically. It’s not strange for him to be a gentlemen, but it is strange for him to offer you his letterman before you leave. He loves that jacket. He wears it so often that his name emblazoned across the back has been worn down into a soft cream instead of eggshell white. 

“What’s this for?”

“Just wear it. And tell me how Yuta reacts.” 

With that, he pushes you out of the door. 

Yuta wrinkles his nose at you in a display of badly disguised contempt. He was so excited to see you when you walked through the door, but as soon as he saw what you were wearing, his smile dropped off his face. 

“What’s with that guy?” He grumbles. “It’s so weird that he’s giving you his letterman. Isn’t that almost like a claim in the sports world?” 

For some reason, it pisses you off. On most days, Yuta could commit a crime and you’d help him cover it up, but this time you seriously can’t tell where he gets off acting like this. He’s not dating you. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t even see you as a potential partner. 

You jab your finger into his chest, punctuating every word you speak by prodding him. “Why do you think you can judge Getou? You don’t even know him.” 

“I know that he’s going after a taken girl.” 

“We’re just friends, Yuta.” The admission stings. No matter what anyone else thinks of your relationship with Yuta, that’s all you will be. 

“Yeah, but no one else thinks so.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Is it so bad to be seen with me?”

“It is if I’m trying to get a boyfriend! You’re the reason no one wants to date me!” 

“Do you need to date someone?” he says. Every word out of his mouth only makes you’re more incensed. He’s being condescending without meaning to, but it doesn’t soften the blow. 

“I want to!” 

“And if I don’t want you to?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

Your head is spinning. “That’s not funny.” 

“I don’t want you to be with Getou,” he says. “I want you to be with me. You’re right, it’s not fair, but I get this ugly feeling in my chest when you’re together and now I know why. I can be so much better for you than he is.”

“This isn’t about who’s better! You’re always-“ You’re on the brink of tears. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating, Yuta! I’m trying to get over you and you think you’re being noble by dating me because you want to keep me safe? Why would I ever want that?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, so soft it makes you want to run into his arms and run away from him at the same time. Then he frowns. “Did you say you’re trying to get over me?” 

You glance at him, then the door. The calculations you run in your head say you can make it outside before he catches you. You turn so fast on your ankle the floor makes a despairing screech beneath the soles of your shoes as you beat a hasty exit.

The calculations in your head are wrong. He loops his arms around your waist and picks you up, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder so he can carry you to the couch. You’re deposited with a soft grunt as he climbs over you and pins you down so you can’t even think of escaping. You thrash, regardless. 

“Let me go, Yuta!”

“I thought you called me Yu,” he teases. 

“You aren’t being cute!”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to look at me that way this whole time,” Yuta says despairingly. “I didn’t want to scare you away, but I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. But before I even got a chance, this asshole steals you away?” 

“Yuta, what are you talking about?”

“Are you in love with Getou?” 

“Are you stupid?” You can feel hot tears well up in your eyes. It’s frustrating to be crying so easily because you’re embarrassed and angry. “I said I was trying to get over you! Just say what you have to say, don’t torture me like this.” 

“Did it work? Are you over me?”

“I’ll never be over you,” you sniffle. You just want him to leave you alone now so you can wallow in your own patheticness.

“I’m glad,” Yuta says, and then he cups your face in his hands so delicately, like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, and kisses you like he’s trying to steal the breath from you. 

Your knees crumble underneath you. He catches you easily and hoists you up, letting you settle with your legs wrapped around his waist. He holds you up with just one arm as he presses you harder against the wall, cushioning your head carefully. You’re pinned between his body and the wall. You moan against him, pleased and warm and disgustingly in love with him. All your senses are full of him as you cling to him.. 

Distantly, as if through water, you hear your phone buzz.

Getou 6:01 You owe me for that, by the way. 

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (I)

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. ‘There’s only one bed’ trope. Dry humping. Fangs. Wet dreams. Love bites. Miguel in denial of his lust for the reader, but secretly touch starved.

You glanced at the watch on your wrist, suppressing a yawn.

Three in the morning had rolled around, and there were still no signs of the anomaly. Miguel O’Hara stood by the hotel window, gazing into the distance through narrowed and ever-watchful crimson eyes.

He was also not showing any signs of stopping for the night, but you were already far too sleep deprived to go on.

“Miguel…” you said miserably, sinking into the bouncy matress. “We should get some rest. We’ve been at this for hours…”

His face hardened slightly. “Get some rest, then. I’m staying up.”

Impossible man.

He was as relentless as he was stubborn. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t much one could do to talk him out of it. He always had to have his way.

“We have sensors scattered all around the perimeter,” you said, feeling every last ounce of patience leave your body. “Any movement and we’ll be on it.”

This time he turned his head to you. “Sleep,” he grumbled, positioning himself closer to the windowsill, but just out of range of the raindrops that began to fall hard outside.

You exhaled in defeat. “Suit yourself.”

The bed squeaked as you moved to find a comfortable spot, eagerly flopping onto your back, facing the bland ceiling of the poorly lit room.

“The bed’s really comfy,” you said with a sigh of sheer relief, feeling the soft material dig into your sore muscles pleasingly. “You’re missing out.”

“The bed’s too small,” he said simply.

Right.

Trust Miguel O’Hara to find flaws in anything whenever it's convenient.

"Don’t be ridiculous," you scoffed, earning an intense glare from him. “We can totally fit here.”

“Uncomfortably, yes.”

You bit the inside or your cheek to keep yourself from mumbling a snarky reply, deciding not to push it and dive into a never-ending argument. You knew better than to do that with him.

Miguel suffered from chronic last word syndrome.

You exhaled noisily, as you pulled the soft sheet up to your shoulder before flipping onto your side to face the wall, ready for a much well deserved break from this boring mission.

Thankfully, the pouring rain outside presented itself perfectly, lulling you into a state of relaxation, and you felt your eyelids heavy as you drifted into sleep.

You weren't sure what time you awoke, but the room was now engulfed in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a dim light through the window.

The bed was dipped lightly behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Miguel sleeping on his side. He had retracted his digital suit and you were now faced with his broad bare back.

You had never been in such close proximity with him, let alone in this state of nakedness, which had your stomach do a sudden flip. But both of you were beyond tired, so you told yourself to go back to sleep.

But then you heard it.

A soft grunt coming from him made you look over again. The muscles in his back twitched lightly with each breath. But something was off. his breathing was harsh and erratic, as if he was in a state is distress.

Another low and throaty moan was heard.

Was he having a nightmare?

He suddenly flipped onto his back and you were met with his bare chest, covered midway by the flimsy sheet you both shared. His face was twisted into a light frown, eyed firmly shut, but mouth parted, revealing his protruding fangs.

That was odd... Miguel wouldn't bare his fangs lightly unless the occasion called for it during missions.

But then your eyes traveled down his body to find a tent rising in his lower half, and your eyes nearly bulged out.

Miguel O'Hara's cock was pressing against the fabric proud and erect. The faint lighting was enough for you to make out the growing wet stain. From time to time, his hips would buck instinctively, causing a few beads of precum to seep through.

Oh.

You had nearly forgotten Miguel wore nothing under his suit.

Your mouth went suddenly very dry at the realisation that Miguel was actually having a wet dream.

Maybe you were the one dreaming, because the alternative just felt too much to be true. Witnessing the Miguel O'Hara in such a vulnerable and intimate position was not something you had on your bucket list, for sure.

Did you find him attractive? Yes. Would you gladly fuck all that grumpiness out of him if given the chance? Definitely.

So now you were torn on what to do. Should you wake him up? Should you just try to ignore the pant and grunts that kept spilling from his mouth? Should you also ignore the way your clit was now pulsing?

But the answer came with him moaning your name.

Your eyes widened and you gasped, immediately flinching away from him, turning to face the wall, heart drumming fast and in unison with your clit.

Before you could fully process the initial shock, a second one quickly followed as you felt him shift next to you to swing a strong arm over your waist. The top half of your suit had ridden upwards from all the commotion, and goosebumps immediately spread across the point of contact between him and you.

"Miguel..." you whispered, too afraid to make a sudden move.

He hummed softly, his large hand pressed flat against your tummy, as he pulled you closer into him, his breath hitting a sensitive spot just below your ear. But what truly made you jolt against him was when his cock came into contact with your ass.

At this point, you knew you had to brace yourself somehow, because you were too far gone to fight the overwhelming wave of pleasure that washed over you. It hit you slowly at first, and then all at once, as he slowly jerked his hips into you.

You were essentially trapped between his large body and the wall, leaving you with no choice but to press your hand against the latter, trying to steady yourself as he picked up the pace.

He mumbled your name under his laboured breath once again, rubbing his cock harder against you, the unmistakable spill of precum now coating your skin.

Your eyes were fixed on your fingers that soon curled into a fist against the wall from the jaw-dropping sensation, and you couldn't stop yourself from undulating your body to match his.

"Miguel..." you groaned in a miserable attempt at waking him up.

His hand slid up and below your covered breasts, his thumb dipping inside the tight fabric of your suit.

You immediately clenched around nothing, and felt your own wetness drip into your underwear.

There was only so much one could take. The voice of reason inside you was telling you to put an end to this right away, but you were not one to listen to reason, especially when you had Miguel O'hara humping you desperately.

His hand slid down to the hem of the bottom half of your suit and began to tug at it.

That was enough to snap you from the haze of lust. "Miguel!"

The reaction was immediate and you found yourself quickly being flipped onto your back and pressed firmly into the mattress, arms pinned above your head, as a breathless Miguel positioned himself on top of you, baring his fangs.

"Miguel... it's me," you said, eyed meeting his crimson ones. "You were..." your voice immediately died down as you felt the weight of the underside of his cock pressed firmly against your covered clit.

The grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes narrowed as confusion settled on his face. "What..."

You were trying your best to ignore his heavy cock, but failed miserably with a whimper, eyes snapping shut and your back arching reflexively.

Miguel grunted from the friction, and you felt him press further into you. "What are you doing?"

With a roll of your hips, you moaned. "Me? You were having a wet dream about me and dry humping me..."

His face drew near yours. "Nonsense."

"It's true..." you whispered shakily, yearning for more.

He moaned again, his balance faltering momentarily, head dropping next to your face. "I would never think of you that way."

You weren't entirely sure why he was now saying this, while still firmly pressed against you.

"Why not?"

He grazed his fangs along your neck. "You're too annoying."

"Then how do you explain that hard cock?"

"Biology," he groaned, hips jerking slowly.

Somehow, his refusal to accept his lust for you only served to fuel yours for him. His subconscious had dragged him earlier into a wet dream about you, and he wouldn't never be able to square this circle.

"So we should stop," you teased, dragging your soaked suit along his cock.

He stilled you with one hand, teasing your skin with his fangs once more. "Yes."

"Then stop."

"Hmm."

His lips latched on to your pulse point, sucking lightly, as one hand beside your head held his weight above you, and the other snaking in between your bodies.

"Let me just feel it... with nothing in the way," he grumbled after tearing away from your skin, and probably marking you with a hickey.

"Why?" you moaned, feeling your clit throbbing uncontrollably. "I'm too annoying."

He pulled the fabric down at once, visibly impatient. "Too annoying."

And when you felt his cock settle between your soaked folds, you jerked with a gasp. Miguel shuddered and glanced down along the length of your body. You followed his motion and were presented with the most alluring sight ever.

His cock lay neatly settled against your, strings of precum drooling from the tip and onto your skin, letting you know his body craved more.

"We should stop now," he said with a feral grunt rumbling from his throat.

You began to roll your hips to have your clit slide effortlessly along his cock, wet sounds filling the room. "You don't want to."

The way he snapped into you next almost had the tip at your entrance, earning a gasp from you.

"I do."

"Then why don't you?" you pouted, caressing his face and having him lean into your touch.

"Biology."

And as he closed the remaining distance with a searing kiss, his tip slipped past without much obstacle as your wetness mixed with his made it way easier. You felt the air in your lungs being crushed by the sudden stretch and you immediately parted your lips from his to let out a strained groan.

He was too thick.

"Just the tip, then," you panted against his lips.

He remained still inside you. "You can take more than that."

Probably, but all the teasing and unintentional foreplay had dragged you so close to the edge you feared you might combust before he buried himself balls deep.

Miguel proceeded to plant persuasive pecks along your jawline and down to your neck. "You can bite down on my shoulder, if it helps."

Your eyes widened at the proposal, and you nearly jerked into him, the promise of struggling to take all of him being way too alluring.

"Okay... but I'm too close..."

"I know."

He positioned himself and your lips brushed against his shoulder, before sinking your teeth into the flesh, and that was enough to signal him to slide in deeper.

You tried to easy the pressure on his skin, but the stretch was too overwhelming and he next thing you knew, your fingers were clawing at his back.

"Stop clenching...." he moaned and you detected despair in his voice.

You would if you could, but the friction was too good to turn down.

He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your knee to further spread you open for him. “Almost there, cariño..."

And just as you were finally beginning to easy your grip around him to fully accommodate him, the obnoxious sound of an alarm flared across the room, lighting up your travel watches.

Fuck...

The fucking anomaly...

Part 2

Masterlist