#about it too hard and now I’m not sure if I’m scared of the potential beasts that could be in there or of eating soap. both of which I would

[fantasylandloser]

Winner

Pairing: Coach!Tashi x fem!Reader x Coach!Art

Warnings: 18+, smut, too filled with shame to proofread, dom!tashi, sub!art, sub!reader, mentions of spanking, tashi is so mean in this, art is basically a prop with minimal lines, idk

*******

Training with Tashi Duncan and her husband was an honor. You knew that. You did your very best to remember that; which was hard to do when she had days like this. 

“Are you scared of the fucking ball?” You shake your head, but you know better than that at this point. 

“Speak up!” You flinch before you can stop yourself. 

“No, I'm not scared of the ball.” You say.

“I would hope not- considering how long you’ve been doing this. That’d surely be a disappointment to your little fan club that you love so much. “ Tashi watched the way your eyebrows tinge only for a moment, at the mention of the onlookers who follow your career closely. 

It was no secret that you had a great appreciation for the love that they’d shown you, but it was almost like you were completely unaware of how quickly it would be gone if you weren’t up to par at all times. 

From afar Art watched the scene play out. You were the player that Tashi was the hardest on. He was sure it was to do with the fact that you were just like her. Well except for the fact that you lacked confidence in your abilities. Another reason she was hard on you. She wouldn’t see your potential wasted. But you worked hard like her, tennis was the love of your life like her. 

He watched as Tashi served to you, intense and laser focused. Then you, playing back with the same intensity and just as passionate. It’s almost magical to watch until you hesitate and miss the ball. 

Tashi’s on your ass before the ball can even hit the ground. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you in it?” 

You stammer a reply that Art can’t hear. Probably an apology. His feet are moving closer before he can even think of a reason why. 

“No, tell me. What’s got you so off your game lately? Because you’re not going to fucking embarrass me at your next matches because you can’t get your head out your ass.”

“Tash lighten up.” He’s ignored which is to be expected. She stares at you intensely awaiting your answer. 

“How am I supposed to lighten up when she’s playing like she never held a racket before, huh?” Again she sees the twitch in your eyebrows. Good, you’re angry. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” Tashi holds up her hand. She doesn’t want your apology. 

“You know what- if you don’t want to tell me what the problem is,” She grabs your phone which has been continuously lighting up since you started. “I’m sure this will.’

You draw in a breath of air in surprise but you make no move to stop her. Your eyes wide at the invasion, but still ever so respectful even when your privacy is being violated. 

Almost immediately her eyebrows sprout up. “I thought we agreed on no boyfriends for this reason?” she shakes her head continuing to scroll through your phone as if it were hers. Art draws closer to her in interest, now intrigued about your phone as well, 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You’re embarrassed, your grip on your racket tightening as you get angry at the way she’s shaming you.

“Obviously.” She mutters. She pauses a moment, both her and Art sharing a look and you know they’ve gotten to the most mortifying part. 

“Well if something would shake someone’s confidence it would be that.” You cringe, finally going to take your phone back only to be pushed back by Tashi.

“What did we talk about when it came to how you let people talk to you off the court and how it affects your game on the court?” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes.

“I can’t control what other people say” You can’t stop the edge in your voice. 

“But you can control what you say. You didn’t even try to stand up for yourself. This-” She shoves the phone at you with a picture of you half naked with the word unfuckable, in the center of the screen. “Is pathetic. “ You look away when she starts scrolling more like you don’t already know the rest of the verbal assault that had been issued towards you, and then a video of your so-called boyfriend with your next opponent and the lewd graphics that came with it. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” You don’t mean for your response to be so angry. Or for the hot tears that started burning your eyes to fall. But the frustrations of your day had started to take a toll on you. So when you finally snatch your phone back from Tashi and get ready to storm off you miss the pleased look on her face. Art doesn’t though, he almost shakes his head knowing it was her intention to rile you up in the first place.

She raises an eyebrow at him, and just as she expects him to, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. The perfect good cop. “It’s okay, kid.” You’re tense in his arms, it reminds him of the times he’s tried to comfort Tashi and she wouldn’t allow it, but after a few moments of him rubbing your back you finally relax. .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You start, but Tashi interrupts. 

“Apologize for standing up for yourself and I’ll make you run until you pass out.” You wipe your eyes roughly and nod. Stepping away from Art’s hug and trying your best to put your game face back on. 

“You got that out of your system now?” You nod again, but after a pointed gaze you speak.

“Yes.” 

“Good now let’s talk about how you respond to this kind of bad sportsmanship.” 

******

The outfit Tashi has you in, is just barely appropriate, You look focused, despite the whistles you’ve received on your way in. You look a little angry actually. 

Art glances at Tashi beside him, who looks all too pleased. “What’d you do?” 

“I didn’t have to do anything.” She’s almost bragging. He follows her line of sight to Tashi’s opponent and sees her and your not boyfriend smirking at you. 

He wants to ask Tashi if she thinks this will shake your confidence more, but then he looks back at you laser focused as you stretch and he decides not to question it. 

The match starts off intense with your serve. Your opponent looks surprised and even though she quickly recovers. Art can tell that this will be a win for you even though he knows Tashi despises that kind of over confident thinking. 

As the match continues Tashi is gripping her seat for support. So enthralled in the game and invested in the fearlessness you’re displaying she can barely contain herself. 

At one point during a break you’re caught trash talking your opponent. Tashi is sure to get you for it later. Even though the only thing she hears clearly is “enjoy my sloppy seconds” with a saccharine smile on your face. The deduction you receive is definitely worth it. 

When you win as expected. Tashi is nearly buzzing and Art can’t hold back his excitement either. 

****

“See this is what happens when you’re a winner.” Tashi tells you. She quite literally holding Art’s balls as he fucks into you. 

“Winners are fuckable, tell her Art.” He gasps, feeling her squeeze him. 

“Fuck-” He breathes. “Did so good.” You spasm around him at the praise, pulling a loud groan from him. “Knew you were gonna win, kid.”

Your whines and whimpers are muffled by Tashi’s hand. “Fuck her faster, she’s gonna come.” Art obeys immediately despite the fact that he is much too close himself. Your eyes roll back at the change of pace. 

“There you go.” She squeezes Art’s balls once you start cumming so that he can too. He tries to pull himself out of you before but he can’t and leaves a sticky mess all over your cunt. “Fuck”

Tashi mounts you before you can stop twitching, lining her pussy up with yours, holding your leg over her shoulder. “Now next time I tell you to do something,, you’ll listen to me.” She starts slowly, spreading the mixture of both you and Art’s orgasm on both of you. 

“Isn’t that right?” You nodding makes her speed up, giving you that look of disapproval. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, yes I’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah I know you will, because now you know what good girls get.” She continues to grind against you skilfully.

“And next time you don’t listen to me-” You feel your core tense up again. “I will spank you until you cry.” Just like that you’re gone again. The masochistic side of you envisioning the picture that will haunt your fantasies until you get it. 

You don’t realize the loud moan you hear is you, until Art is kissing you sloppily to silence your cries. ‘You like that don’t you?” You hear Tashi say. You want to tell her yes but you can’t with Art’s tongue down your throat. You think she knows the answer anyway.

The contrast between the way that Tashi is fucking you so vigorously and the slow kisses Art is giving you puts your head in a spin. On top of that your overstimulated clit is making it hard for you to think at all. 

“Coach please-” You beg. “My pussy can’t;” You’re cut off immediately. 

“Who knows what's best for you? Me or you?”

“You!” By this time tears are flowing down your face, as you feel another orgasm building all too quickly. Art wipes them, then moves his hands down to pinch your nipples. 

“Exactly. Now cum.”

[justauthoring]

Just to be Enough [1]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if geto had called you that night?

a/n: this will more or less just be a collection of different one shots of potential moments of a relationship with geto and gojo. sometimes the plotline might change :)

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

His hands were shaking.

Part of you thought yours were as well.

You weren’t sure what to say – what was there to say? Being awoken by a call from Geto at three in the morning certainly wasn’t how you’d expected your day off to start; nor was the shakiness of Geto’s voice something you’d ever expected to hear. He was always confident, in your many years of knowing him that was something you’d come to expect – the unwavering confidence that both him and Gojo displayed no matter where they were, what they were talking about or what was happening.

He’d sounded afraid and distressed and on the brink of… you weren’t even sure what. Your heart pounded with fear of just exactly what.

Two girls. That’s all he’d manage to utter. Something about two little girls, locked and beaten and… his voice was twisted with something terribly painful and he was breathing heavily, words mixing together with his panic. You swear you’ve never called for Ijichi so quickly, now in a state yourself; enough that you hadn’t even had the politeness to feel sorry for waking the poor man up so early and abruptly.

It was when you were in the back seat of the car that you called Gojo.

“Something’s wrong with Suguru.”

“...what’s wrong?”

He’s away on a mission of his own. Just like he always was nowadays. It had been hard on your relationship, always missing one piece to make you all whole; but you understood, just like you understood that Geto was called on just as many missions. It was something you’d long ago come to terms with if you were going to be with the two strongest sorcerers, and you had no doubt about what that meant in terms of being physically with them.

Perhaps he’d answered, despite being on a mission, so quickly because, like you, he’d noticed the steady decline of Geto over the past few months like you had. Noticed but deflected every time you’d tried to ask. You’re a sorcerer yourself, and while you might not be as strong as them or sent on as many missions, you know the strain it puts on one's well being. You see it in yourself, in them, in your friends. 

It seems Gojo did as well.

And, if truth be told, not a single one of you had made it out of that mission last year the same.

It had taken you a second to reply, mainly because you weren’t sure how to. “I don’t know,” you confessed with a choked breath, “he just called me, said he found two girls. Satoru, they’d been locked in a cage, starving and with bruises all over them. I tried to get him to calm down enough to tell me where he was. But he sounded…. wrong.”

There’s an echoing pause, then; “you’re on your way now?”

You nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I'll be there.”

You hear the sound of him pulling away, as if to hang up; you can’t stop yourself from crying; “Toru!”

There’s a moment of silence before you hear him respond, rather softly; “yeah?”

“I’ve never heard him sound like that, Toru. I’m scared about what I’ll find when I get there.”

It feels wrong to admit – why would you be scared to see Geto? A boy you’ve loved since you’d first walked into class on your first day at Jujutsu Tech and laid eyes on him? But you are, terribly so; your hearts racing and it feels like you can’t breathe the closer and closer you get. You don’t know how to help – that was the whole issue of it all; how? How can you help him? How can you make it better?

What if you didn’t?

“I’m gonna be home soon, okay, Y/N/N?” Gojo whispers, gently; so opposite of how he normally sounds. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah? Just get him home.”

You nod, once again, “okay,” you whisper.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Toru.”

You’re pulled up next to Geto ten minutes after that.

He’s standing there, the jacket of his uniform taken off, left bare in his white button up and slacks. When your eyes flicker lower, to the two little girls standing beside him, you find his jacket wrapped around the two of them; big enough to envelop them fully, huddled together. As you pull up beside him, stopping just in front, you first notice the girls; bruises and scuffs marked all over their skin, what little clothing they have on them ripped, dirty and clearly old, and then you see their big, wide, afraid eyes staring back at your own and your heart breaks.

When you raise your gaze, you meet Geto’s. He’s already staring at you, but his expression is blank; like he’s staring right through you.

You send a nod Ijichi’s way before opening the door, slipping out into the cool night air.

The girls are watching you carefully, shuffling closer to Geto, clearly scared of you, and as you stand fully, letting the door shut gently behind you not to scare them, you glance at Geto just briefly before crouching, so you’re at eye-level with the girls.

“My name’s Y/N,” you introduce softly, voice extra quiet so as not to spook them. “I’m Suguru’s friend. What are your names?”

They glance at each other, slowly, unsure, before looking up at Geto. He nods, a simple, silent gesture and then, as if relaxing, their tensed bodies ease and the lighter haired one speaks up first; “i’m Nanako and this is Mimiko,” she introduces her sister for her, and when you glance at the twins, it’s clear who protects who. The thought brings a smile to your lips, thinking back fondly to memories of your past, and nod.

“Those are such pretty names,” you smile, eyes crinkling with warmth. “Are you both cold?”

Nanako nods slowly, and you watch as Mimiko’s lips tremble.

“It’s nice and warm in the car, and there’s a nice man named Ijichi who’ll give you some snacks, okay?”

They look to Geto for guidance once more, and all it takes is one more simple nod before Nanako is eagerly grabbing Mimiko’s hand, pulling her sister forward just as you open the car door. They clamber in, and you adjust Geto’s jacket around them better as they huddle to the middle of the back seat, still holding tightly onto one another, before you let the door shut gently.

Left with Geto, silence echoes as you slowly push yourself up.

Then, with a shaky breath, Geto whispers; “I wanted to slaughter them all.”

His words scare you, but you force yourself to swallow down the fear, reminding yourself who this is and where you are. So, with a small step forward, you close the gap that had existed between both you and Geto, licking your lips. “The village?”

He nods.

“They did that to them?”

Once again, a nod.

“They would’ve deserved it.”

Geto blinks at that, shocked you’d agree with him. “...what?”

“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong, because… you’re not,” you confess with a shuddering breath. The worlds feel wrong even if you believe them. There was a time that the simple thought of death upon anyone, even the worst of scum, would’ve made you feel ill. But now, it didn’t always feel so wrong — at least not in thought. Not in the deepest, darkest parts of your mind.

“But you didn’t,” you add, closing the gap completely between the both of you. You take a leap, ignoring your uncertainty and fear and everything in between and take his hand in your own, squeezing. “That’s what’s important.”

“But I wanted to.”

You meet his eyes and finally see something in it — a glimpse of hope, maybe. There’s something other then empty in those eyes, even for just a second, and you grab onto it, tightly, knuckles white as hope floods you because that was all you needed. 

Geto wasn’t gone.

“I’ve wanted to,” you confess, and it isn’t hard to know who and what you mean. “But I didn’t either. Do you think I’m a bad person?”

And his answer is instant; “no.”

“You aren’t either.”

His gaze lowers, and you think that’s all that can be said. At least now. Right now, those two little girls are important. Shoko’ll need to see them and when you get back to the school, Gojo will be there and he’ll help. You’re sure of it.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his own. “Okay, Suguru?”

-

Gojo almost looks mad.

But one look at you, and his features soften, tense shoulders fading and he’s forced to remind himself of something maybe he just doesn’t quite understand. 

He’s never been good with words, at least not when it came to comforting. Not when it came to things like this.

So he doesn’t say anything.

After Shoko had checked the girls, and assured bith you and Geto that despite bruising, they were okay. They’d need water and food, but most importantly, sleep. 

You tuck them into your bed.

Geto is silent the entire time. He doesn’t say anything, just stands behind you, his presence is always there. There’s moments you catch, just faintly, where one of the girls will look at him and he’ll smile with a softness you’ve only ever seen directed at you or Gojo.

It fills you with a warmth, and that glimmer of hope you don’t want to lose.

The second he’s sure they’re okay and fast asleep, he slips out of your dorm and heads straight to his. A moment passes before you follow him, and when you finally reach him, he’s in his bed, back turned with the covers pulled up, as if hiding himself from everyone.

You stand there, watching, for ten minutes before Gojo arrives.

It takes him only one minute, after your look and after his acceptance to step forward, slipping into Getos much too small bed to carry two six feet tall men. But it doesn’t stop Gojo. He pulls the covers, slips underneath and presses his face into Getos back. It’s oddly soft for Gojo, caring in a way that words aren’t needed and comforting in a way only possible for him.

You feel distant from them in that moment.

You didn’t know how to help. What to say, what to do. You did what you thought was right, but it still hadn’t felt enough. Sure, you’d gotten Geto home, but he’d still been distant, cold and that look in his eyes still remained strikingly blank and gone.

Yet, you watch as the simple touch of Gojo relaxes Geto’s shoulders and he seems to ease, as if some, if not all, of the anxiety just washes away.

It hurts while comforts you.

You turn to leave, even if it’s your bed; maybe Shokos still up and—

“Y/N.”

Your body freezes, head slowly turning at the sound of Geto’s voice. He’s not spoken one word to you since you’d found him. 

He’s looking at you, meeting your eyes directly and one of his arms is stretched out towards you, as if inviting you.

Lips parting, you hesitate.

“Please.”

That’s all it takes. Your feet are moving before your mind can process, rushing towards the bed with an unfamiliar urgency. You’re desperate for acceptance. Desperate to help and comfort and be there for Geto — because that’s all you want. All you ask for. You just want to help.

He’s grabbing onto your arm the second he can, tugging you to the other side of him, back pressing against the wall your bed is pushed up against and your chest pressed against Geto’s own as he wraps his arms around your waist. You lay there for a moment, before Geto’s pulling you closer, a hand pressing to the back of your head so you’re leaning into the crook of his neck.

Everything washes away then, the warmth of Geto soothing you.

And the words he utters next could make you cry;

“Thank you.”

His words echo in the silence, and then, your eyes flicker upwards, meeting Gojo’s. His gaze is already on your own, soft, warm and there’s a smile on his face.

Everything’s okay then, you realize.

Geto’s home and so is Gojo, and you did help.

You did.

[moondirti]

pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

[mysticmunson]

date night: alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

summary: finally scoring a date, things go smoothly until you present, and only one alpha knows.

word count: 2.8k

authors note: hii so i wrote this like two months ago and tried wrapping it up to have it posted, but i enjoy this au so please request some expansion requests :)

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, smut 18+

The pungent smell of fryer grease sifted through the air of Benny’s, a mountain of food divided into a few plates as you sat with Robin, who was in the midst of discussing her most recent ‘study date’ with Vickie.

“Get this! We’re sitting there, talking about chemistry, and bam!” Robin exaggerates, voice lowering in fear of someone overhearing, “She looked at me and kissed me!”

You gasp, smacking her shoulder with the back of your hand, a french fry between your thumb and index finger. 

The couple had kissed a few times now, but the excitement remained as you knew how badly your friend pined over the redhead. 

“We just need to find you someone now.” She teased, taking a bite of her grilled cheese as a string of orange came from between the bread.

“I’m determined to get laid by the end of this month,” You proclaimed, giving yourself around 30 days, “I want to experience it because when or if I present, I want to be somewhat prepared.”

Presenting was a concern for your age group, freshly out of high school, as everyone awaited to discover if they would become an alpha or omega. There had been a few start to show, including your best friend, Steve. 

His presentation was expected, his father a well-known alpha in town, and the traits of one showed early. He was fiercely protective of those he cared about, known to be more than good in the sheets, and strong. Having grown up with him, you saw it happen in real time, making it even stranger when you realized how attractive he became.

Still, Robin supported you on your journey, but worried for your safety. Over analyzing any recollection you shared of a man flirting with you, deciding he was a murderer or ugly, or both. 

In her bedroom, you stood in a loose blouse, tucked into a jean skirt and a matching jacket. Applying another layer of lipstick, you fretted over your appearance as you waited for the clock to strike 6:30, and for your date to pick you up here. 

“Steve is coming over.” Robin mentioned, sipping on her water bottle, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“Okay,”  You reply, “We just need him gone by the time Devin comes.”

Steve was a great best friend, but he could be a real pain in the ass. He had been scaring any potential boyfriend away since middle school, deeming them not good enough or them being too intimidated by him as he faked a macho persona.

For the plan to work, he couldn’t know. He would go on a tangent about how you didn’t have to have sex just to do it. That was true, but it was hard to listen to a guy who had numerous sexual partners preach it.

The front door swung open as if on cue as you and Robin went to the living room, Steve kicking off his shoes. He began his rant about work, Family Video making him lose hair from stress and children yanking on his hair.

You paid attention, but kept an extra eye on the clock, noticing the hands nearing 6:30. Cursing Steve’s tangent for not letting him leave sooner, you swallowed your anxieties, peaking to make sure a car wasn’t outside. As inconspicuously as possible, you stood and went to grab your heels from Robin’s room. 

Toeing quietly, you were hoping to go unnoticed, but Steve decided to be aware for one of the first times tonight. “Where are you going? You’re dressed up.”

Shrugging, you leaned against the wooden door, “Just out for the night, a friend is picking me up.”

A terrible liar, you thought of something that wasn’t completely fictional, however, they both could tell. The sight of headlights caught your attention, standing straighter, “Okay, bye!”

Robin rushed to the front door to stick her head out as you walked away, “Wrap it before you tap it!”

Embarrassment crawling up your neck, you flicked her off behind your back, opened the car door, and stepped in.

“What!” Steve gasped, startling Robin as she shut the door and who hadn’t expected him to follow her or hear him. Thankfully, the car had pulled away, leaving a confused man with a bit too much heat in his cheeks at his best friend to get some.

“I’m just kidding, Harrington. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Robin snarled, shoulder-bumping him as she went back to her couch. 

The date was fine, Devin was a kid you’d gone to school with since diapers. He had boyish features, cheeks a bit chubby with dimples, and was always polite. He had asked you to hang out a few days prior, agreeing on tonight.

Curls in your stomach that you attributed to nerves hadn’t vanished, even as you both mutually realized midway through your walk in the park that things were platonic. 

Heat simmered within you, discarding your jacket and feeling beads of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. It wasn’t hot outside, even as you walked around and chatted. 

“Are you okay? I don’t mean to sound rude, you don’t look well.” Devin questioned, a hand on your shoulder as your legs began to wobble. 

Nausea flooded you before dissipating, wavering emotions as you tried to make sense of what was wrong. 

Through the nerves, you kept thinking of Steve. How he would let his fingers trail against your lower back in hugs, kiss your head when leaving, and put his hand in front of your body when he hit the brakes too hard while driving.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling tears threaten through. As you made that statement, you felt the surge between your legs, knowing you had presented. 

It couldn’t be happening now. Not with someone you didn’t know well. Not when you hadn’t been able to score a boyfriend first. Not now. 

“I think I need to go home, I’m so sorry-” You began, huffing as streaks of mascara fell down your warm cheeks. 

Assuring you it was okay, Devin drove you home, even stopping to get you a snack to make your stomach feel at ease. While it didn’t help, you appreciated the thoughtful gesture and thanked him as he waited for you to get securely in your apartment.

The space went from chilly to scorching, removing any amount of clothes you could besides a pair of boyshorts. Your mind raced with confusion as your nipples became hard, feeling a chill, but like a fire on ice. 

Anxieties without category hit you, curling in a ball as you cried, sitting on your floor. It felt pathetic, but no stream of thought was strong enough to withstand the hormones.

Time slipped by as you tried regulating your breathing, applying slight pressure on your clothed core. A shrill ring came from your black phone, lifting the handle and pressing it to your ear.

“You were not supposed to answer!” Robin grumbled, already giving the heads up that she’d call to see if you were getting some, that no answer would be her answer. You had forgotten this rule, her tone making you bring in a fresh set of tears.

On the other end, Robin sat in her room with Steve walking in, not staying in the living room as she had asked. Her priorities were averted to the cry on the other side of the phone.

“Wait, what happened? Why are you crying? What happened with Devin?” Robin frantically questioned, Steve glancing over with furrowed brows as Robin had never stated who she was speaking with. 

“Devin? From junior year math class? That was the friend?” Steve grimaced, toying with nicknacks in his friend’s bedroom, earning a finger on the lips to quiet him down.

“I presented,” You whispered, “I’m so scared and uncomfortable and overwhelmed! What alpha do you know, I don’t care who it is anymore.” 

Though you would probably care later, the clouded judgment had you aching for any form of reprieve from the pain. 

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Robin squeaked, not wanting to reveal your status to Steve for fear of your embarrassment, but she contemplated. The gears of her brain turned as she questioned his overprotectiveness, the way he was quick to frustration when discovering you were on a date.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out, Y/N. I promise.” She concluded, hanging up and grabbing her yearbook.

The faces of former students made her ill, but word got around about presentations, and she hoped that seeing their faces would make her recollect.

“What the hell’s going on? Do I need to go fight Devin?” Steve eyed his friend, an unnerving worry in his stomach. 

Biting her lip, she debated internally, “She needs help.”

“What is looking at that going to do?” Steve gawked, used to his friend’s antics, but still astounded when they acted erratically.

“I’m trying to remember who’s an alpha.”

“Why would you need to know who became an alpha-”

As the words left, his mouth ran dry, and he gulped while looking at Robin. She slowly looked up, watching the dark iris’ before her enlargen.

“Steve-” Robin began, the corner of a page between her two fingers.

The stern look on his face was withholding a multitude of emotions, ones she couldn’t quite make out. She made the judgment call that maybe Steve was your best bet.

“She’s at her place.” 

That was all that needed to be said before Steve ran out her front door and into his car. He had driven your route a million times, but never this fast. 

His blood pumped with nerves and excitement. He had spent his ruts alone, a fist full of himself with the occasional tears of frustration as he tried to alleviate his knot. But now you had presented as an omega.

Refraining from palming his crotch, he watched your streetlights come into view, throwing his car into park. The dark hallways were typically concerning, but your door was practically glowing within his mind.

He growled at the smell in the air, catching his attention more the closer he got. Gripping the door handle, it was unlocked, thankful no one else had noticed the compromising position. 

Choking on his own breath, he fumbled with the lock behind him and trekked down the dim hallway. The protectiveness he already felt was consuming, his palms sweating as he made his way closer. 

The door swung open too quickly as the handle slipped from his grasp, seeing you flinch from your curled position on the floor. 

As if you were nothing, he lifted you from your armpits, making you stand in front of him. Eyes blazing, he looked pointedly as he undid his belt.

“Your door.” He stated, voice wavering with stability.

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at him, “What?”

His shirt was shrugged off, tossing it to the ground as your eyes drifted to his broad chest, whimpering at the sight to his delight.

“It was unlocked, don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He gritted pushing his jeans off, cupping your cheek with one hand and leaning forward so the back of your knees touched your bed. 

His nose had skimmed against yours, breath fanning against your cheeks as you drank in every pheromone he perpetrated. Breath quickening, every thought coming to your head was vulgar, eyes softening in need.

“I won’t.” You whimpered, yelping as your back hit the wrinkled sheets, and his chest soon pressed against your bare one. 

“I mean it, don’t ever do that again, you could’ve gotten hurt.” He gripped your chin in his grasp, looking down at you as your clothed centers touched.

The brief touch made you wail, your body suddenly aware of what was to come. Equally as impatient, he grabbed one side of your underwear and ripped it. Repeating the act on the opposing side, the shreds of fabric were now a relic of the you before this moment.

Palming himself, looking down at your frame as a predator and prey, he growled. 

“How bad do you want it?” He egged on, ripping his own boxers off and onto the floor. 

“Please, Steve, please.” You whined, watching as his cock bobbed. Blushing profusely pink, your mouth watered at it and your chest began to burn with greed.

He seemed far too composed, the performance of himself he was forced to obtain through most of his teen years floating to the top. However, his soft spot was you. It always had been and both of your fresh senses were sensing the discomfort in both of you. 

“Alpha, please.”

That was all it took for his body to be pressed to yours and his lips to meet yours for the first time. 

Grunts and gasps came from you both as the underside of his cock rubbed against your folds, too consumed with how he tasted and how you smelled. 

“Keep that door locked, do you understand?” He gritted, fisting himself in his own grasp, his first thrust in synchronizing with your nod.

A pained cry rose from your lungs, tears already streaming down your cheeks, his lips kissing where the beads were.

Desperation reeked from you both as you grabbed at one another, needing any form of solidification that the other was there. 

Steve found comfort in your warmth, trying his best to soothe your discomfort with affection. Kissing on your neck or rubbing your clit, the latter making you shriek from sensitivity. 

“My omega now,” He sighed, balls reaching the curve of your ass as he settled against you, “my girl. Always have been.” 

“Always yours, alpha, always Steve.” You trembled, the veins of his length stimulating every ridge within yourself. His brown hair crowned around his face, only able to see him in your state of need. 

Though you were the one presenting, Steve felt the same wave of emotions he felt during his first rut, but now even more with another person. His person. The one who knew him since he had gaps in his front teeth, since he had graduated, and every minute moment before and after.

“Fuck, I love you.” He blurted out, feeling his own bashfulness creep up his neck. 

To his relief, you began to be more overcome with emotion, agreeing. Each thrust hit your spongy spot inside you, convincing you more and more he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

“I love you too,” You revealed, locking his lips between yours briefly, “M’sorry I didn’t ask for you first, I was nervous.”

Your words were sweeter than honey, but the implication that someone else almost came to your aid burned him deeply. His hands pushed up your thighs, your knees coming up as he fucked you deeper than you could comprehend. 

“Devin asked me out and I just wanted a boyfriend, but I didn’t want him, I swear-” You cried, unknowingly provoking more possessiveness. 

“Honey, please, it’s okay.” He gritted, clenching sheets in his shaking hands, suppressing the urge to flick his hips quicker.

“I wanted you, alpha, please.” You sighed, stroking his cheek and hair, anywhere you could touch, “I’m so happy, I’m sorry, thank you-”

“Don’t worry, I would’ve found you anyway. You’re my girl, my omega.” He assured, gulping down the emotions he felt when you looked into his eyes.

His words appeared to have a larger effect than any physical reimbursement could do for you as your fingers clenched within his hair. 

Your cry as you came made his hormones go into a flurry. He could feel your uneasiness being thrown into release. It was as if your chests opened in tandem, reaching out and moving in sync as he finished inside you.

White noise filled both of your ears as Steve’s body hovered over yours with much of his weight on top of you. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his chest, shoving your face against the crook of his neck. 

Pumping himself within you until sensitivity took over, he gasped at how you clenched around him. His stature shook as he knotted, a hand going to your hip to keep in place, chest heaving to regain a steady tempo.

“Thank you.” You whimpered, hugging his chest closer to your front, an embrace he matched. Pressing a kiss on the side of your forehead, he trailed down to your ear with pecks and bites.

Rolling to his back, he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back after you tried sitting up.

“Just relax, honey.” He cooed, the exhaustion already hitting you both, stilling your hips from causing you both more frustration in the compromising position. 

“I want to make you knot again.” You whine beneath your breath, trying to sit up again, ignoring the pain shooting through your body at his swelling. 

“Easy tiger,” He chuckles, biting his lip to stop his own need, “we’ve got time.”

tagging mutuals :)

@andvys @lilacletter @corrodedcorpses @munsonsreputation @berryfairy444 @poppy-metal @lesservillain @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

[gilverrwrites]

How are you? I love your fics ❤️ and kept having this idea in my head.

Dick Grayson when he discovers early in their relationship, she never had someone give her head before. Like she’s getting all shy at her confession and says it’s nothing, but Dick doesn’t undermine her and says when she’s ready, he will make it SO memorable. This conversation always is at the back on her mind and after some time pass in their relationship, she is ready and he makes her sit on his face??? Like why is this so hot? Ofc, she will be insecure at first and wouldn’t want to suffocate him , he just really guides her through it but like more in a gentle rom way. Just imagine her experiencing like the most intense orgasm while also gaining self confidence and squirting for the first time too ?! 🤭

Memorable

Dick Grayson/F!Reader, 2.1K words AN: I’m well, thank you for asking, I hope the same can be said about you. Thank you for sharing, this is such a hot and sweet idea. When I started, I was just planning short blurb type response, but I guess it kind of got away from me. CW: First time cunnilingus, soft dom Dick (if you squint), dirty talk, swearing, hair pulling (Dick receiving), praise, squirting/female ejactulation, petnames: baby, good girl, pretty girl, perfect girl.

18+ MDNI

On the surface, Dick is the perfect gentleman about it, excluding his flabbergasted initial response.

“What? Never?” Followed by the even denser question; “Because you never had the opportunity? Or just never wanted to?” As if it mattered a whit either way.

But after that, he apologises for his reaction. He takes your hand, stares at you with those deep-set blue eyes that have always seen you, with that smile that soothes you and promises; “When… if you let me be your first, I promise I’ll make it worth it. We’ll make sure it’s memorable together.”

And then it’s ’forgotten’, he doesn’t bring it up, doesn’t talk about it unless you do. Ostensibly, the perfect gentleman, not wanting to scare you off with his enthusiasm, because on the inside he’s feral, obsessed with the idea of potentially being the first man to savour the taste of your hot, wet folds, to make you coo and pant and wither with just his mouth, to make you cum all over his face, fuck. All of it makes him hard as a rock in an instant.

The night you finally commit is nerve-racking for you both because you’ve built the moment up in your minds for so long. But Dick is determined to make this one of the greatest sexual pleasures of your life, and you trust him completely, that still, however, does not absolve all of your unease.

You’re already curled up together on the bed, in repective states of undress when you tell him you’re ready. His body immediately grows stiff, radiating excitement. He abandons his attack on the soft spot of your neck to examine your expression, you stare at each other, searching for reassurance, and find only dilated pupils and heavy lids.

“You’re sure?” He checks, and you instinctively nod. His eyebrow twitches upward, and you know he’s going to say something about using real words, so you beat him to the punch. “I’m sure!”

He grins at you, sparkle in his eyes before he’s climbing into position, moving all the pillows away from the headboard and settling in the now empty space, he taps his cheeks and instructs you to; “Come on up.”

It’s a silly attempt at adding humour to the situation, but you find yourself suddenly filled with doubt and stuttering. “You want me to sit on your face?” You’d thought you might start with a less constraining position. “Won’t that be uncomfortable, for you?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “And if it does get uncomfortable, I’ll tap your leg 3 times, sound good?”

“Okay, sounds good.” You agree, still hesitant, but Dicks eagerness is contagious, the way he’s watching you with those lust-filled eyes makes you want to give him whatever he wants, and he’s never failed to deliver in the bedroom depart previously, so you hitch your leg and situate your knees either side of his head, your cunt hovers just above his face.

It isn’t until you feel his long, calloused fingers hook into your underwear and shift them to the side that you even realise you’d forgotten to remove them. You make to apologise, but he distracts you by running his index finger between your folds, lingering over your clit, he adds his middle finger and pulls apart your lips, exposing your entrance.

“Fuuuckk.” He breathes, “Such a pretty pussy. Can you bring it closer for me?”

Fuuuckk is right. The genuine affection in his voice has you nearly trembling as you lower yourself until you feel his warm breath brushing between your legs, the combination of air on moisture making the area tingle, but Dick’s still not satisfied.

“You don’t need to worry. It’s not too different to things we’ve done before. I’m only going to put my fingers in here.” To demonstrate his point, he sheaths one finger inside you in one quick motion and pumps it in and out, gradually building speed each time. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Oh, god, yes!” You confirm, unconsciously rocking your hips, trying to coax him deeper inside you.

“Yeeahh.” He hums, pressing the bud of his thumb against your clit, immediately sending a wave of pleasure through you in a way that makes you flinch. He chases your body with his hand, maintaining the friction between your legs. “And I’m gonna use my mouth here, sometimes I’ll swap but it’s gonna feel just like this, only better. I promise.”

Then his hand is gone, its withdrawal leaving you ten times needier than you had been when he’d started. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before settling further down, you don’t stop until you can feel his nose poking between your lips. You’re rewarded by the muffled sound of Dick’s voice praising you from below; “Good girl.” Then one hand locks onto your thigh, not hard enough to force you in place, but firm enough to convey the message.

From there, you’re partly expecting an assault, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Dick slowly works his tongue from your entrance to your clit, letting out a lewd, glutaral groan in the process. “You taste so sweet.”

If you weren’t already flushed, that would have done it. You open your mouth to thank him, but as you do so he latches his mouth around your clit and sucks. That does not feel like anything you’ve done before, but it does feel fantastic. All you manage is a whimper as you clench your fists into the top of the headboard to ground yourself.

You hear a wet pop as Dick releases his suction, and returns to lapping at your sweet spot, eliciting shorter and raspier pants from you with each flick and circle of his tongue. He’s experimenting, changing up the pressure, alternating between slick darts with the tip of his tongue, and wet, sweeping motions that seem to consume your entire core until he finds the perfect move-set that has your toes curling and your hips bucking. An orgasm is quickly building, blood boiling, clit aching when he pulls back, sinking lower on the bed to slip his tongue into your entrance before you hit your precipice.

Stunned at the sudden change, you look down at him, he peeks out from between your legs, eyes fierce, amused in a way that sends a chill down your spine. Without warning he replaces his tongue with two fingers, plunging much deeper than he had the last time, and spreading them out to push against your walls despite their resolve to clench around him.

He loves the way you look right now, flustered, frustrated, lost to anything but his touch. He wants to push, to tease you more, wants to refuse to let you cum until you really ride his face, until you beg, but he’s worried about taking things too far on your first time, because most of all he wants you to feel good and comfortable. Not to mention, if he plays his cards right, makes this easy and unforgettable; you’ll want more, and then he can have his way. So, he settles for ghosting kisses along the soft skin of your inner thigh and says the only other thing that’s on his mind without filter; “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you cum. I’m gonna make you cum so hard no one else will ever compare.”

You’re so blissed out, rocking back and forth on his fingers, he’s not even sure you heard him. He wells with pride for a moment, his pretty girl so fucked out already, glowing under a sheen of sweat, all because of him.

“Did you hear me?” He accentuates his point by slowing his fingers and you whine as you lazily nod at him, upper body heavy and disjointed as your lower half keeps trying to fuck itself.

“Yes, Dick.” The distress in your voice is music to his ears, it makes his already hardened cock throb. Pleased by your reaction he presses his thumb to your clit, simulating the motions he’d used earlier. “P-please.”

“You don’t have to beg, baby.” But it's highly appreciated, if your mind was less fuzzy from the dual simulation you might have noticed the way he laughs when he talks. “Have you ever squirted before?”

It’s so hard to answer when he makes you feel so good, when all you can think about is how much better this would feel if he used his mouth again. Knowing the only way that will happen is by answering, you muster all the brain capacity you have left to shake your head and stammer; “No… Tried but couldn’t do it myself.”

“Can you shift onto your feet for me? That’s it.” He coos. It kills you to pull away because you already feel so good, but he watches you with so much adoration as you follow his instructions it makes your heart feel as fuzzy as your puffy clit, makes it bearable. “Just like that, perfect, my perfect girl.”

You can’t lower yourself as much in this new position, but that doesn’t seem to bother Dick who latches his mouth back onto your clit, re-finding this rhythm in an instant and filling your swollen centre with a third digit.  He moans repeatedly into your folds as he works, loudly savouring your taste, memorising every fold and spasm. He alternates between sucking and lapping until the most incredible, white-hot feeling begins to surge through your body. You throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut, hands haphazard abandoning the headboard in favour of Dicks soft black hair.

Just when you think things can’t possibly feel any more intense you feel the turning point, the undeniable feel of Dick smiling into your folds is followed by the deliberate curl of his fingers, brazenly rubbing your g-spot in long, fast strokes, exiting you completely and plummeting right back to the bundle of nerves each time until it hits you.    

“D-Dick I-” Your climax washes over you before the words can leave your lips. Your muscles grow tense, nails biting into your palms through the trestles of Dicks hair you’re clinging onto. Your chest is heaving, and you couldn’t lift your lids long enough to look at the stream of watery cum flowing out of you if you wanted to.

You know it’s a lot, it’s wild, because you can feel droplets of it splash back onto your stomach, can feel it pooling into the limited space between your searing, sensitive skin, and Dick’s face. He hasn’t let up for a second. Intent on riding you through your high and soaking up as much of you as he can manage. Even when you’re over the hump, he keeps going, noisily slurping at your dripping, oversensitive heat. It’s hard to tell if you’re shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, or the continued abuse of your oversensitive cunt.

“Dick?” You call, weakly pulling at his scalp. He gets the message, finally detaching from your southern regions and shuffling from between your legs until you can get a good view of his face.

His hairs askew, cheeks pink, pupils seemingly even more dilated than they had been when you started, if at all possible. Every inch of skin from the tip of his nose to his nipple’s sheens under a mixture of spit, slick, and cum, and he’s staring at you like he’s a man starved. “I’m not done yet.”

Your bedroom flies by in a blur as Dick plants his hands on your thighs and uses them to support you while he rolls you back and between his legs. His member brushes against your folds briefly, sparking yet another ripple of arousal you didn’t think your body could muster amongst its already frenzies post-orgasm overexcitement, but as soon as you feel it, it’s gone again. You catch a glimpse of Dick rearranging it, tucking it low and out of the way before he crawls between your open legs again.

“I promised you it would be memorable.” He reminds you, leaning in closer. He grips onto the now drenched pair of panties he’d hiked to the side earlier and finally removes them before licking a testing strip from bottom to top just like the first time, enjoying greatly how wet and puffy it is, how you can’t keep from shivering, how you breath catches. “You did so good baby, but I’m not gonna stop eating your perfect pussy ‘til one of us can't stand it any more, an’ it’s not gonna be me.”

[miupow]

CRAVE ⛦ c.yj + c.bg

・:〃➜ dont go into the woods.

pairing. werewolf!choi yeonjun x fem!reader xwerewolf! choi beomgyu words. 1.9k NSFW, minors DNI! potentially dark/triggering content warning. warnings: dubcon, implied/referenced kidnapping, predator/prey elements, free use, toxic!txt, referenced poly!txt (no mxm), hard dom!beomgyu, soft dom!yeonjun, ruts/mating cycles, rough sex, knotting mention, deepthroat/throatfucking, degredation kink, praise kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia, spitroasting

"never go into the woods," they said, but you were never one to listen-- stupid, sheltered village girl thinking to herself how bad could it possibly be as you ventured through the undergrowth, more worried about picking flowers and berries than her safety... you should have listened.

getting lost was easier than you had thought, too giddy for exploring to mark out a path home. you ran, panicked, alone amongst the trees until the sun went down, growing more and more distressed, more and more utterly lost as your visibility dwindled— twigs snapped, leaves rustled behind you, the oppressive feeling of eyes on your back followed you wherever you sprinted and stumbled… you were being hunted.

they descended upon you when you were at your weakest, stumbled and fell over a tree stump, hit your head on a rock, laid unconscious in the grass; a pack of wolves disguised as men. they took you to their den, nursed your wounds, calmed your nerves with saccharine smiles that were just a little too sharp in the teeth... you grew to trust them, care for them, feel indebted to them. you didn't understand until you had fully recovered, tried stepping out of their little pack life and back home to your village.

stupid girl. they were never going to let you leave. you belonged to them now.

yeonjun was soft for you. at least, that's what the other boys say-- their eldest usually so callous and cold. you couldn't possibly see him that way, no matter how many stories you've been told; how could he possibly be the nastiest of the pack when he treated you the sweetest, gentle words and gentler touches. chaste kisses that never landed on your lips. you felt safest with him. you were still a little afraid of the others.

you were most afraid of beomgyu. loud and brash, nasty words falling from a sneering mouth-- his elders kept him in line, snapped at him when he went too far, but nothing could stop his constantly running mouth. he teased, he belitted, he degraded you. he never let you forget just how he viewed you; like a toy for him to play with. for all of them to play with.

but yet when beomgyu's rut rolled around, your cunt ached for him.

"f-fuck, fuck yeah-- take it all~" beomgyu groans, his fingers wound tight in your hair. he tugs you further down his thick cock, mushroom head knocking at the back of your little throat-- you gag at the intrusion, eyes watery, and beomgyu just laughs. "what a good bitch."

you whimper around his cock, try your best to hollow your cheeks, flatten your tongue against his underside— there wasn’t much else you could do with beomgyu using your head like a pocket pussy, roughly pushing and pulling to fuck his cock in and out of your throat. “like having your throat fucked, huh? yeah you do, you cockhungry slut— maybe i should knot your mouth instead of your pussy, make you swallow all my cum—“

the thought makes your throat close up in fear, fat tears threatening to fall down your red face as you choke and splutter. drool dribbles down your chin and smears across your cheeks, aided by beomgyu’s thumbs anchored on your cheekbones and forcing your mouth open— you look up at him desperately, whining, and beomgyu gazed back with honey dark eyes and a devilish smirk. “aww, don’t want beomie’s knot down your throat? i’m sure you’d take it just fine~”

“stop it, you’re scaring her.” yeonjun chastised from over your shoulder, his pretty soft voice comforting your cries immediately— you’d already be ass up and wailing around beomgyu’s knot if it wasn’t for him, your sweet jjunie making sure your tight cunt is stretched out enough to take them because beomgyu certainly wouldn’t have bothered. his long fingers dragged at your walls deliciously, pumping in and out of you with the lewdest wet noises— he changed angles to rub hard at your sweet spot, chuckling into your ear when your eyes roll back and you keen around beomgyu’s thick shaft. beomgyu groans deep in his chest, adams apple bobbing, and his grip on your cheeks tighten considerably. “there we go, pretty girl, doin’ so well~” yeonjun coos, gentle, free hand snaking down to rub tight circles against your neglected and swollen clit. “‘m not gonna let gyu knot your throat, baby, don’t worry— just keep making him feel good, yeah? be a good hole while jjunie gets you ready for breeding~”

beomgyu snickers darkly. “you’re so soft for our whore, hyung. acting like she’s your mate ‘n not just the pack cumdump, wont even let me fuck her my damn self—“

“you’d hurt her, you fucking beast.” yeonjun snaps, the arm playing at your clit tightening you against his chest. “gotta make sure you don’t break my— our toy.”

you’re grateful that beomgyu can’t refuse an order from the eldest, terrified of what facing his rut alone may have been like, tossed around and used like toy, yeonjun not there to act as a filter for beomgyu’s dirty mouth… it terrified you, but your pussy throbbed at the thought.

it was getting increasingly hard to focus on sucking beomgyu’s cock, yeonjun’s skilled fingers in your cunt making you stupid and drunk— beomgyu didn’t seem to mind much, head thrown back and grunting like an animal while he rammed his cock into your slack-jawed mouth. “are you done yet, then? wanna breed my bitch now.”

yeonjun scoffs but relents, sliding his slick-sticky fingers out of your hole— you whimper from the loss, pussy empty and fluttering around nothing, choke on beomgyu’s cock when yeonjun chuckles and slaps your ass. they switch positions easily, beomgyu pulling out of your throat with a sickening pop before clambering to mount you, big palms immediately moving to palm and grope at your reddening asscheeks. he pulls them apart with his thumbs, groans loud at the sight of your glistening cunt peeking between your thighs— yeonjun settles in beomgyu’s place, hums and pets your head when you nuzzle against the straining bulge in his jeans. “miss a cock in your mouth that bad, baby?” he laughs, hips bucking gently against your face. “greedy little girl, focus on beomgyu now, okay? he’s been very patient.”

beomgyu hadn’t been very patient, but that was besides the point. he holds your cheeks apart with his thumb, other hand keeping his cock steady as he slides it up and down your soaked slit, bumps the head against your aching clit. you moan at the sensation, rock your hips back into beomgyu’s pelvis— he spanks your abused ass even harder than yeonjun did, skin stinging and blooming with heat and pain, and you lurch forward with a broken wail. “quit moving, ‘m gettin’ my cock wet,” he growls.

you try to stay still the best you could, thighs shaking as beomgyu lines himself up with your twitching hole— he gives you no time to prepare, rough and quick in burying his cock in your pussy to the hilt. you throw your head back, cry out pathetically at the intrusion, watery eyes threatening to spill over… yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb.

the sound beomgyu makes when he bottoms out is ungodly, deep and low and making your clit twitch for attention as his hands grab on tight to your hips. “f-fuck,” beomgyu whimpers, sounding winded. “fuck, fuck, so tight, shit!—“

your poor little pussy is filled to the brim, stretched to it’s limit as you struggle to adjust to the way beomgyu’s cock parts your gummy walls and burns so good. you can feel every inch, every vein, every twitch of his shaft, still unmoving as beomgyu pants like a dog, hips stuttering and hands shaking as if in a daze.

yeonjun watches with a smirk, thumb rubbing circles against your cheekbone and smearing drool and precum further across your face— his cock strained against the front of his jeans obscenely, and the sight made your mouth water. “pussy drunk already, beomie? thought you wanted to breed her.”

beomgyu snorts, shaken out of his reverie— he rolls his hips hard against your ass, cock bullying impossibly deeper, and snickers when you choke on air. “gonna make her beg for it. c’mon, slut, wanna be bred? want my knot? tell us how bad you want it.”

“wanna be bred,” you echo quietly, gasping, sounding ruined and pathetic even to your own ears. beomgyu hadn’t even started fucking you yet and you were already fucked dumb.

“what was that, doll? didn’t hear you.” yeonjun goads, thumb slipping into your open mouth.

“breed me, please!” you cry, give in entirely— you couldn’t think, head cloudy and full of only yeonjun and beomgyu, only able to focus on how badly you wanted beomgyu to start moving, start making you feel good. “want it, want it, want your knot— fuck me!”

you can hear the sneer in beomgyu’s deep voice. “that’s a good whore.”

his hips start thrusting at a brutal pace, his flared cockhead battering your cervix like it was threatening to push through— and all you could do was take it, whimper and wail while he ruined your cunt, dizzy with the delicious drag of his veiny shaft against your walls. “such a good cocksleeve, fuck!” beomgyu spat, grip on your hips bruising. “pussy feels so fuckin’ good, so fuckin’ tight—“

you hold on to the front of yeonjun’s jeans for support, shaking with pleasure while the younger wolf fucks you stupid. “so big!” you whine, pathetic and wobbly, gazing up at yeonjun with teary eyes like he would somehow save you. “too much!”

yeonjun just chuckles and pets your hair, lets you slobber all over the bulge in his jeans as beomgyu blows your back out.

“gonna fuckin’— gonna knot you!” beomgyu babbles, hips moving impossibly faster, impossibly harder, his hard chest pressing against your back. your cunt ached with overwhelming pleasure, fat cock in your tummy making you dizzy; you loved it, loved beomgyu’s rough pace, love the way he fucked you like you were nothing but a toy. “gonna fill you up, shit, get you pregnant, fill you up with my puppies— fuck, i should bite you. make you mine forever! gonna knot you, gonna claim you… gonna cum!”

the threat of being turned struck a pang of terror through your chest, the threat far too real as beomgyu mouthed hot at your neck. the tears in your eyes were falling freely now, little body of wracking pathetic sobs— yeonjun cooed down at you, grabbed at your wet cheeks as he shushed your cries, stroked your face. “shhh, baby, it’s just his rut talking. i won’t let him do anything to you.”

you would feel more comforted if yeonjun wasn’t undoing his belt, fishing his red hot cock out of his pants. “just take it all like a good little knotslut, take what we give you… that’s a good girl, just like that~”

you take yeonjun into your throat just as you did beomgyu, with pretty flushed, hollowed cheeks and shining eyes— yeonjun groans low in his throat, hissing a quiet “fuck yeah” as he pushes himself in deeper, heavy balls slapping wet and nasty against your chin. both of your little holes are filled now, beomgyu still grunting and moaning obscenities as he pounds your puffy abused cunt; you can’t process a single thought anymore, not when yeonjun’s cock is laying heavy and salty on your tongue, not when you feel the swelling base of beomgyu’s knot catch on your rim… you were turned into the toy they saw you as. “you were made for this, weren’t you?” yeonjun sighs, tangling his fingers in your messy hair. “such a perfect little slut for me, for my pack~”

[bloody-peach]

Eat Me, Drink Me (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x F!Reader smut fic)

(Gif made by me, original image found on google images)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Muse - Sing for Absolution, Marilyn Manson - Blood Honey

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, drugs (aphrodisiac), vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, drinking, dom Vox, bottom Y/N, vanilla stuff around the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Yep, had to make some smut with Vox now, didn't I? Welp, here ya go! I would recommend listening to the recommended songs while reading this, to get into the atmosphere. Headphones required, just for added experience. ENJOY!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You left the Hotel, exhausted. You had to deal with Niffty trying to kill new guests, Angel Dust’s bullshit with Cherri Bomb, and Husk drinking his life away on top of all the other duties you had there. But the worst of the worst was Alastor, he always loved to torment you and make you suffer or feel scared. Even now as you walk further away from the building, you could still hear his laugh deep in your mind. At least you were able to leave for the night, but you always felt like someone was watching you. Someone....much more powerful than you.

Vox, the TV Demon, has had his eye on you for some time, ever since he caught you on the hotel’s TV commercial. He remembers pausing the clip when it froze on you and he’d jack off, just imagining of what he could do to you. He was obsessed. And he decided that tonight was the night.

You kept walking when you heard electricity buzzing. You looked and it was just a broken neon sign, but it still left you uncomfortable. You kept walking, but the buzzing came back. You started to quicken your pace to try to escape the noise or the potential source of it, but it just kept following you, even when you started to run. You then run into a brick wall, realizing you must’ve turned a wrong way while you ran. You just turned with your back against the wall, unable to escape. You saw a glowing blue square in the dark along with small blue zaps of electricity spreading through the area. Soon, the thing came closer to reveal it was Vox, the overlord that controlled the masses through the visual media. You had never met him before, but you felt a sense of dread, thinking this was another guy just like Alastor. Once he came close to you, he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin'.” You sigh in mild annoyance and say, “Look, I just...Alastor already torments me. If you just want to make my life a living hell like he does, then don’t bother. I don’t need another demon doing it too.” You didn’t have anything against him in particular, you were just too stressed out to deal with another demon who wanted to watch you suffer.

Vox’s red eyes flickered with a mix of confusion, then it turned to deep-seated rage. “Alastor...” he snarled. He controlled himself and then looked at you, with a slightly annoyed look in his face. “Is that why you were running? Because of that radio trash?” He put his hands behind his back, and said, “You know I’m not like him, right? I ain’t the type to get off to torturing folks. Well, not much at least. But you’re different.” He smiled as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “I don’t want to see you suffer, Y/N. I...well, i’m not entirely sure what I want with you.” He looked a little sheepish, an emotion you didn’t expect from him, but he quickly fixed himself and played with a strand of your hair. “But I do know I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I don’t plan on hurting you.”

You wondered why he knew your name, but then another thought came to mind. “Wait...you know Alastor?” He then chuckled, saying, “Do I know him? I wish I didn’t. That motherfucker and I go way back. Can’t stand him, frankly. He’s all about radio and all that outdated shit, but me? I’m all for anything new, as you can see.” He then petted your head. “Has he been giving you a hard time? Of course he would, he always enjoys that kind of shit. You poor thing.” His gaze softened as you put your head down, your expression full of fear and sadness, due to those traumatic memories. Vox gently grabbed your chin and brought your head up to look at him, saying with an unusual tenderness, “I promise you, Y/N, I ain’t like that. I can be...different. If you’d let me.”

You got the sense that he seemed to care for your struggles, but you’ve been in Hell for a long time. Very rarely have you encountered a person who actually cared about anyone. The only ones you knew of were Charlie and Vaggie, and out of all of Hell, that’s saying something. How can you trust what this man was saying? How can you be sure he isn’t out to hurt you or take advantage of you?

You look away from him, your face still holding that sad expression. “I want to believe you, but...how do I know you’re not just manipulating me? This is Hell, after all. Hard to find a genuine soul around here.” Vox sighed, the sound of static echoing through the alleyway. His eyes held a look of understanding, a flash of empathy. “Can’t say I blame ya for thinkin’ that way,” he admitted. “This place isn’t exactly known for its honesty.” He petted your head again, this time almost touching his forehead on yours, his voice going soft. “I don't know if I can promise you heaven, Y/N. But what I can promise you is that I ain’t here to make your life more miserable than it already is.” He then extended his hand, a smile on his face, “How about we try something? No tricks, no manipulation. Just you and I. See where it goes.”

You think about it. Well, he did seem pretty convincing, and whatever he had to offer had to be much better than what you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

You sigh and say as you shake his hand, “Ok.” Vox’s screen lit up with a cheerful grin as he felt your hand in his, the cool electricity sparking between your fingers. “That’s more like it, Y/N!” He said as he shook your hand. He let go of your hand and stepped back with a flourish. “Now let’s get outta this dump. If we’re gonna be...whatever we are, we might as well do it in style.” He then had an idea, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How about we head to my place? The entertainment district ain’t much, but it beats this shithole any day.” His usual cocky smile returned, the light of his screen casting a glow around the alley. “Besides, I’ve got the best view in Hell. You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” You smile, liking the idea. “Ok, that sounds real nice.”

You end up following him to his place and you’re amazed at how luxurious it was. Expensive furniture, so clean you could eat off of the floor, and a couch in front of a large window, showing the hellish night sky. You look out the window and he could see your eyes sparkle with delight as you marveled his abode. “Wow...you can see all of Hell from up here!” He chuckled as he crossed his arms, finding your joy adorable. He could get used to making you this happy. “Told ya, didn’t I? Best view in Hell.” He strode over to join you by the window, his eyes looking down at the fiery grounds below. “You get a good look at this place, you realize it ain’t all that bad. Got its charms, don’t it?” You turn to him and you nod. He turns to look at you, a genuine smile lighting up his screen. “Glad you like it, Y/N. Hopefully it makes your whole...situation a bit more bearable.” His gaze lingered on you for a few moments longer before he turned away to the bar, his screen showing an unclear emotion. “Now, how ‘bout a drink? I got a stash of the finest bourbon in all of Hell. Helps take the edge off.” “A drink sounds great. Thanks.”

He smiles to himself, knowing that you were slowly starting to warm up to him. “One helluva drink, coming right up!” As he grabs the bottle of bourbon, he then had a thought. He sat the bourbon down and dug out a small vial from the inside of his tux. It was a bottle of Valentino and Velvette’s ‘Love Potion’, an aphrodisiac they were collaborating on. Val gave him a bottle as a gift, but he never thought of using it. But knowing what Y/N had been going though day by day, dealing with that radio fucker’s bullshit all the time, he figured that maybe you needed a little something to help you relax, to feel pleasure and bliss instead of pain and fear. It’s not a betrayal of your trust if there’s good intentions behind it, right?

He pours the potion into the bourbon and mixed it, making sure Y/N wasn’t looking. “This stuff’s got a kick like a mule, but it’s smooth. Just like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, and he hears her giggle along with it. Oh, how he adored that laugh and how he hoped that once his plan worked, he would hear more of it, along with other lovely sounds. Once he poured a glass for himself, he brought the glasses to the couch, giving you the tainted drink and offering you to sit on the couch with him. You couldn’t help but blush a tiny bit from how he looked, the way he was sitting, offering you to join him in a moment to yourselves. You sat next to him, a bit shy, but soon relaxing in the couch. Vox raised his glass, the light from his screen reflecting from the swirling liquor. “To new beginnings, Y/N. May they be as interesting as the journey here.” With that, you both clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing through the room as you both take a long sip, his eyes never leaving you. Luckily, you didn’t notice his gaze as you downed the drink completely.

You could handle bourbon pretty well, that’s pretty much what Husk served at the bar usually, but never as high quality as this. “Man, this stuff is really good. Sweeter than any other bourbon I’ve had.” ‘Yeah, that’s the love potion that’s doing that,’ Vox thought in his head. He smirks, watching you enjoy the drink. His heart pounded in his chest, light flicks of static on his screen due to anticipation. “Glad ya like it, Y/N. It’s a special brand, adds a bit of sweetness to the usual burn. Perfect for those wanting to unwind.” He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, seeing you this relaxed and comfortable in his presence, even if it was artificially manufactured. He knew it must’ve been a rare sight, one he’d yearned to see for a while now.

He finishes his drink, sitting his empty glass on the coffee table. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” He asks, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. As he asked that, you started to feel a change in your body. You started to feel way more relaxed, your mind beginning to feel a bit hazy. You weren’t sure why; maybe the bourbon was that good. Your body started to feel hot and you could feel a throbbing feeling between your legs. “I...I’m not sure...I...I feel kinda funny...” you say, your voice slightly slurred. Vox’s smirk widened, his eyes glowing with a devilish delight. “Oh, it’s just the effects of the bourbon, darlin’. Besides, you’ve been so stressed out, you haven’t had any time to just sit and relax.” He moved closer, his hand lightly tracing a line up your arm, causing you to shiver. “Just relax and enjoy the ride, Y/N. I promise it’ll be one hell of a time.” His voice drops to a sultry whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?” You feel your face grow even warmer as he started to pull you closer to him, his face so close to yours. “I..I guess so... You are a lot nicer than Alastor..” Vox chuckled, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Well, that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard.” His hand rested on the small of your back, his fingers tracing small circles against your shirt. “I told ya, didn’t I? I ain’t like him. Not one bit.” He tilted his screen down, his glowing eyes meeting your slightly dilated ones. “Just relax, my dear. Let ol’ Vox take care of ya. You won’t regret it.” With that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against your forehead softly, something you were confused on how that worked, but that thought flew away like all the others. “Just trust me, Y/N. I won’t let ya down.”

In what your mind could come up with, as you stared at him and as he spoke with you, the thought of letting him take the wheel was starting to sound really good and you figured that it was better to trust him than anyone else in Hell. At least for now. “Ok..” Vox’s screen lit up with a triumphant grin, his red eyes glowing with delight. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his hand tightening around your waist. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He whispered against your lips, “You're so cute, Y/N. Just keep relaxing. There’s no need to fight it.” His other hand started explore, trailing down your body to rest on your thigh. His fingers squeezed gently, a small spark of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to moan. He knew your body was growing more sensitive by the minute. He pulled back, his screen displaying a smug smirk. “That’s it, baby. Enjoy the good feelings. Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, trailing up your thigh to rest on your hip. He dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer against him. His screen returned to your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart. It’s...intoxicating.” He leans in to your ear, his screen barely touching it. “I’m here. There’s no need to be scared.” His touch felt so good, all you wanted in that moment was for him to touch you more. “Ok,” you said. Vox chuckled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear, Y/N.” His hand slid up from your hip, tracing a path up your side and under your shirt. His fingers curled around your breast, squeezing gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. “You’re so sensitive, darlin’. It’s so sweet.” His other hand slid down, resting on your thigh once more. He pulls your leg around him, positioning himself between your legs. He then starts to slowly strip you of your clothes. You were getting really hot, so it was a relief to get all those clothes off. Soon, you were completely nude before him, on full display. Vox’s eyes roamed your naked form, a low buzz rumbing from his chest. “Damn, Y/N. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His hands traced over your body, exploring every inch of your skin. He savored every moan and gasp, his touch sparking bits of static wherever he touched. He leaned in, his lips against your neck. “I'll make you feel all kinds of good, baby...”

His hand slid down, tracing a path down your body to rest between your thighs. His fingers teased your folds, a spark of static making you gasp. “That’s it, Y/N, just enjoy it,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. He then moved his face to you and kissed you deeply. You kissed back just as deep, moaning in his mouth as you felt his fingers slowly slip into your pussy. Vox groaned into the kiss, his fingers going deeper into you. He savored your moans, the taste of you on his screen intoxicating. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re so wet, baby. All for me.” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp. His other hand was busy teasing your nipple, pinching and twisting it until you were writhing in his arms. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you...”

With that, he picked up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervor that left you breathless. You moaned more, the pleasure growing in intensity, “Ahh..mm..ohh..” Vox grinned and moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The combination of him working on your pussy and playing with your breast had you crying out, your body trembling in his arms. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me, baby girl.” It’s not too long until you cum, covering his hand in your juices as your body tensed up.

Vox growled, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he felt you release all over his hand. His fingers slowed, gently stroking you through your orgasm. He slowly removed his hand and marveled at the wetness on it, licking it up until his hand was clean. “You taste so good, darlin’. So good..” His hand moved up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. “You alright, Y/N?” You were there, still somewhat dazed from your orgasm. But there was one thought going through your head. “I...I...more...I need more...please...” Vox chuckled, “Needy little girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. I’m far from done with ya.” With that, he gently laid you down on the couch, his screen and his body hovering over you. “You ready for more, Y/N?” “Yes...please...I need it...” Vox’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Good girl, ” he purred. You see him take his jacket and pants off, revealing his hard and erect cock. You just sat there, amazed by its size. Could an overlord have a cock that big? Vox smiled, saying, “You like what you see?” He gave his cock a few strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “It’s all for you, baby girl.”

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, his hands holding your thighs gently. He slowly pushed himself inside you, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. “Fuuck...that’s it, baby... take it in deep..” Once he was fully inside you, he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. You gasp and moan in pleasure as he thrusts into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting the pleasure consume you. Vox felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt your arms go around him. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out.” His thrusts picked up in pace, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you. His hand moved down, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit. “You’re so tight, darlin’. So fucking good..” With that, he picked up the pace, his cock pumping in and out of you. “Ahh..ohh..V..Vox...i..it feels so good...” you moaned, causing Vox to grin. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” He continued his assault on your pussy, pounding into you so much that you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how many times you came, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Vox to keep fucking you.

“Gahh, fuck yeah...gotta get even deeper...” He then stopped his thrusts and pulled out of you, flipped you onto your belly, and grabbed your hips. “Hold on tight, Y/N. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He lined himself up with your entrance once more, pushing inside you with a single thrust. He quickly sped up his thrusts, making you a moaning mess. “Ahh..oohh..yes...yes..I...I love it... I love your cock...!” Vox grinned a prideful smile, proud of the fact he was causing you to lose yourself just from his dick. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby. I fucking love it.” It’s not too long til he could feel his climax coming, and he felt your walls flutter, meaning yours was coming too. “Cum for me again, Y/N. Let it out.” “Ahh..mm..V..Vox..! Please cum in me..! Please..! Fill me up with your cum! I can’t take it anymore..!” Vox growled, your pleas of ecstasy driving him further over the edge. “You ready, baby girl? Ready for me to fill you up? I’ll do it, but only on one condition. You belong to me from now on. You like that?” “I..I’ll do it! I’ll only belong to you, Vox! Please, fuck me!” Vox smiled, thrusting even more. “Alright, darlin’. Here it comes...!” With one final, powerful thrust, Vox released inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. “That’s it, baby..Take it...take it all..” You cum at the same time he does, feeling his cum filling up your womb. You cry out in pure pleasure, your body riddled with pleasure. It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Vox kept thrusting, but he started to slow down, letting you both ride your orgasms for as long as possible.

Once everything was done, he pulled out of you and marveled at the cum-covered mess your pussy had become. He smiled, and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You did amazing, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair away and he looked at you, a bit concerned since you were so quiet, “You okay, Y/N? Do you need anything?” You turned to him and he was amazed at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes looked so full of joy and bliss, and your smile was so warm and genuine. You could almost cry if you saw it for yourself. He felt his heart flutter when he saw that. Yeah, he made the right choice.

You hug him and rest your head on his chest. “I love you so much...”

Time stood still for a moment for Vox when he heard those words. He hoped that he would hear those words come out of your lips towards him, and seeing and hearing it now, it filled his heart with joy. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He let out a quiet chuckle, his screen pressing against the top of your head. “Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I feel exactly the same, baby girl.” He gently waves his hand and summons a wisp of smoke around your neck and along his hand, it soon turning into a collar with a chain leash, him gently gripping onto the chain. You now belonged to him, permanently. And he wasn’t gonna let just anyone touch you like he just did.

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. “Just rest now, Y/N. Vox has got you.” You let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms, forgetting about the world and any worries you had. Vox cleaned you up and carried you to his bed, laying you on it then entering it himself. He pulls you close, letting the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating billy

♡ fandoms; The Boys

♡ characters; Billy Butcher

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; he’s the bane of my existence + love of my life tbh

reader isss implied to be working with Billy and in my mind a supe but i made it ambiguous since i didn’t write a meeting section :v but i love the idea of Billy falling for a supe so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/ PDA

> he doesn’t like PDA…or at least that’s what he claims

> Frenchie and Marv give him shit- and Hughie is so supportive it makes him angrier than the others giving him shit

> but tbh they’re all happy to see him happy, and he knows that somewhere under that thick skull off his

> so when you give him a kiss or hold his hand or hug him in the base he grumbles, but he never pushes you away or actually complains

> and sometimes he’ll haphazardly pull you against him without saying a word, cheeks a bit pink as he mumbles something into your hair

> usually a ‘good job’ if it fits the occasion, otherwise a comment about how his coworkers are idiots

> now undercover, it’s a different story

> everyone is a potential threat then- and even worse, everyone is potentially going to bother you

> if he even gets a whiff of someone looking you over he’s got an arm around your waist and a hand not so subtly on his holster

> if you want to get any actual surveillance done you have to shoo him away so he doesn’t scare anyone off

> and even then he’s checking in way more often than he needs to

> it’s hard to get mad at, because it’s sweet in his stubborn, assholeish way

> and if you don’t care about surveillance it’s easy to get him riled by playing into it

> and then he’ll kiss you hard right in front of whatever chucklefuck was eying you

> “hope he’s enjoying the bleedin’ view”

> he’s a big cuddler when you’re alone- another thing he’d never admit

> but he loves when you snuggle up with your head on his chest, listening to his heart and nearly dozing while he goes through files

> or when you’re exhausted on the van ride home and make sure no one is paying attention as you hold with his hand in the front seat, rubbing his probably bloodied knuckles and pressing soft kisses them

> he likes your little late night rendezvous the best, though

> you’re both bad at sleeping, so most nights in the base he’ll find you in the kitchen near midnight brewing chai

> you’ll be sitting on the counter in one of his shirts and smile brightly despite the bags under your eyes

> and then when he comes over and puts a hand on either side of you, you trap him in your legs

> the kisses are sometimes heated, sometimes chaste

> but either way you enjoy the tea, and spend the rest of the restless night together

II. Sharing a bed

> when you’re all living in hiding, space is tight under the pawnshop

> you’ve both got shitty little twin beds, and he’s always complaining about space

> but the nights are getting cold and the heater barely works, so you hatch your evil scheme

> evil scheme might get giving it too much credit. like way too much

> all you plan on is asking to snuggle and never leaving his bed

> but he’s taking forever to get whatever he’s doing done, and you’re tired

> no biggie, you’ll just crawl in and wait for him so you can ask

> the next thing you know it’s two a.m. and he’s nudging you

> “oi. who said you could be in here?”

> you whine and give him the biggest pout, eyes all hazy from sleep

> and not wearing all that much either

> he sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice “c’mon then love.”

> before you can scooch over he’s pulling you on top of him completely, making you feel tiny on his broad chest

> he tried not to seem too delighted when you’re there again the next night

III. Let’s get kinky

> listen. i swear i don’t think every character has a daddy kink. just all the ones i’m super attached to

> but he canonically referred to himself as daddy and that’s not leaving my brain anytime soon. so.

> he refers to you as so many sweet nicknames- and he likes to pair them with a healthy mix of degradation and praise

> “you’re a filthy fuckin’ whore aren’t yah sweetheart?”

> his default is rough. he’s a frustrated man, and he’s been pent up for a while now

> but you can take it. probably.

> he likes choking. and spanking, he loves when you’re a brat and he can bend you over his knee

> mostly because then he can finger fuck you right then and there when he’s done and make you a complete mess

> if you wear makeup he thinks it’s twice as nice with your lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks

> and you look prettiest to him on your knees, already a bit teary and sucking on his fingers until you’ve earned the real thing

> he wants to breed you so bad it makes him look stupid. (tbh not literally, even if it is possible, but god the dirty talk is so good that it doesn’t matter)

> his favorite position is reverse cowgirl- he loves seeing you whine and slowly ease yourself onto him

> and to me- he’s an ass man lmao, he loves watching it as you bounce on his cock

[dimlylittorch]

18+ drabble

vagina owner!reader (aka safe for the girls, the trans guys, and the others) x John Price

when i tell you i need this man so badly. switch!john who is down for anything that makes you happy.

Sitting on his bed, in his apartment, on his silky sheets. He already bought your favorite soap to keep in the shower, getting you two matching tooth brushes. You work closer to his place than your own, so you might as well just come stay the night, right? That’s a no brainer to John. Did he go through your closet in your apartment one day while you were busy, taking photos of your clothes and the sizes so he could buy extras and keep them at his place? maybe. Did he go ahead and make a mold of his cock for you to keep in your nightstand drawer? potentially. He’s saving that for the six month anniversary present though, he doesn’t want to scare you off. By then you’ll be too deep into him, almost as deep as his fingers are into you every other night.

You have an agreement to make your sex lives more sustainable. Every other night at the most. More than that, you get over exhausted and he gets cramps.

John’s thick but nimble fingers curving into your cunt, his cock twitching in his trousers as he rests his head on your knee, his eyes locked on yours as he looks up at you with starry eyes. When you clench around him, it makes a whine slip past his lips and his hips buck against the mattress, hoping that soon he’d get a chance to let his cock spring free. He only did things when you wouldn’t be inconvenienced. To take his dick out he’d have to take his fingers out of you. And he couldn’t have that :(

he loves when you’re whining, pleading, practically being a brat because he wants his best baby’s mouth to be open and ready at any time when he’s ready to slip his cock past your lips. your lips are chapped? ‘don’t worry honey, m’gonna keep em’ wet for ya’

he’s on his knees as you sit on the couch, you pushing his head between your thighs as you push him into your cunt, making sure he cleans up the mess he caused. he put one of your home videos on the tv, and when you came home from work you saw him grinding against a pillow while watching himself eat you out. ‘is that what you want john? wanna eat me out?’ bucking your hips against his tongue, pussy soaking wet as you watch the tv, seeing how his dick was just as hard as it is now.

him making you ride that mold of his cock on your six month anniversary as you sit in a fancy hotel, rose petals scattered around lazily as he makes out with you, slapping his real cock against your tummy, making splatters of pre cum decorate your skin. ‘wanna fuck you so bad baby. but you look so good like this- can’t mess it up’

you making him sit on his knees in the shower so he can ‘clean’ your lower half, when really his face is just buried into your cunt the whole time. you manage to wash his hair while he does so, but trying to get access to his beard his more of a challenge.

him having you sit back and finger yourself while he fucks himself with his own cock mold, wanting to see if he could actually feel that good. he cums in less than two minutes, and you can’t help but wait for him to pass it over.

i’m totally normal about this man😀

requests are open !

my masterlist🌿

[sovya]

patience

cw: selfship coded, pregnancy, talk of abortion, angst and fluff, mentions of childhood ab*se/trauma/enji todoroki, reader and natsuo are engaged

an: this is straight up a selfship work but ofc anyone is welcome to read/enjoy/whatever sdkjfhj

minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni

wc: 1.2k

You’re sitting there with your underwear around your ankles, elbows resting atop either of your thighs as you hold your head in your hands, patient. Although, patience is beginning to make way for anxiety rather quickly.

You want to glance over at the counter, at the thin white stick sitting there with its stupid pink cap, but you know that won’t quell your worry. You know there’s still two minutes left on the timer you set on your phone, that there’s potentially two minutes left of normalcy in your life. Two minutes left until everything changes.

“Is it done yet?” A concerned voice speaks to you just outside the bathroom door.

“Natsu, it’s only been a minute,” you laugh despite your anxiety churning up a whirlpool in your gut.

There’s a pause before you hear him speak again, “Can I come in?”

As soon as you begin to say “yes”, your fiancé is opening the door and stepping inside.

You give him the slightest nod in acknowledgement as he walks into the room, closing the door behind him as if you two aren’t the only ones in the house.

Natsuo rests against the bathroom wall, his broad shoulders pressed against it before tilting his head back to rest on it too, his eyes on the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, rubbing your thumbs up your neck and to your jawbone, absentmindedly trying to soothe yourself.

His head rolls against the wall as he goes to look at you, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You laugh again, shrugging as you go to sit up straight, “Maybe… but I know you’re just as nervous.”

Natsuo looks at you, then down at the floor. It’s clear he’s thinking, but about what you’re not entirely sure.

You look down too, though not at the floor, but at your hands as they rest on your thighs. Your engagement ring glitters under the bathroom lights and you find yourself twisting your wrist slowly to watch as the diamond glistens in different spots. It’s a pleasant distraction, though it doesn’t last for long.

Your diamond-induced trance is interrupted by the sound of bells jingling from the speakers of your phone, indicating the test has been processed.

Quickly, you snatch your phone off the counter to shut it off, your eyes meeting Natsuo’s again.

“Should we look at it together? Or do you want to see it first?” He asks you quietly, ever the gentleman.

“No, let’s look at it together.” You do your best to give him a reassuring smile, but you’re convinced it came off less genuine than you wanted.

Standing up, you pull your underwear back on and reach for the test, your gaze on Natsuo rather than on the results. He’s looking at you, too.

Wordlessly, you both blink at one another before looking over at the test.

The control strip is bright pink, with one nearly matching it in saturation on the left.

A chill runs through your body as you look over at Natsuo. He looks petrified, almost unmoving save for the swell of his chest as he breathes, deep and slow.

“It’s okay,” you break the silence, Natsuo still looking at the little lines. You feel saliva start to pool in your mouth the way it does before you’re sick.

Again, you can tell he’s thinking, but about what you don’t know.

“It’s okay, Natsuo. I… We don’t have to keep it. I know you’re still finishing up school and we’re not married yet and… it’s okay. We can try again another time, when it’s better for us both.”

You want to keep talking, to keep comforting him, but you feel a hard lump growing in your throat and you don’t want to cry.

“That’s not why I’m scared.”

You tilt your head at him, confused, though your stomach calms a little now that he’s speaking once more.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t care that I’m still in school and I don’t care that we aren’t married yet. People can talk if they want.”

“So what is it then?”

His gaze meets yours again, at last, but his voice is dangerously close to shattering, “What if I turn out like him?”

You swear you can feel your heart sink into your stomach. Not worrying about your potentially dirty hands, you pull him in for a hug, doing your best to envelope his large frame.

“Natsuo, you will never end up like your father.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear him sniffle. “You don’t know that.”

“Hey, yes I do. I do know that.”

“How?”

You pull away from the hug slightly, holding onto his forearms as you look up at him. His eyes are so watery, a tear falling from one when he blinks.

“I know because you’re very aware of all the terrible things he did to you and your siblings and your mom growing up. I know because you’re kind and gentle and understanding. You would never put a child through what your father did because of what you went through, Natsuo. Because you’re good. Because you’re you, not him.”

Natsuo nods, more tears spilling past his lower lash line, “I’m still so scared.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, giving his arms a light squeeze, “it’s okay to be scared, Natsuo. I’m scared too.”

“Of course you are, you’ve got a microscopic little human in you.” He manages to make himself laugh, just a little.

You laugh too, “I know. I know, it’s very weird to think about.”

“So, what should we do?”

You wet your lips before pursing them, this time it’s you who’s thinking. “I’m not sure. I’ve always wanted kids but I also know we have a lot of time to get to that—and I don’t want to continue with this pregnancy if you don’t want to.”

“That’s the worst part. I would love to have kids and a big family… I’m just so damn scared that I’ll ruin it all.”

“Of course. I totally get why you’re scared. I’m sorry. Your dad ruins everything for you and it really breaks my heart.”

The room is silent again, for much longer this time, but now it’s him who pulls you into his chest, giving you a comforting hug.

You decide to speak, voice muffled by his shirt. “Will you at least come to the appointment with me? When I, uh, get rid of it?”

“Get rid of it?”

“As in get an abortion.”

“No, I know what you meant, silly. I mean that… I didn’t say we should get rid of it.”

You move your head so you can meet his eye, your brows furrowed in confusion and his in concentration.

“I can’t let that asshole dictate how my life is going to go. It was his fault I grew up terrified, but I don’t want to let him keep me terrified. He can’t ruin things for me anymore, especially not this. Not you… not a kid. I won’t let him.”

“So?”

“So,” he starts, picking you up with his arms wrapped around your waist, the test still in one of his hands, “We’ve got a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.”

Giggling, you lean in to give him a kiss, your eyes starting to well up too, “Natsuo, I still need to wash my hands!”

[animentality]

Do you think, if Durge had a kind of breakdown in front of Gortash (the crying, sobbing kind) that he would be affectionate or sympathetic about it? Or do you think he’d be put off by it & see it as a sign of weakness?

I’m asking you, as the durgetash guru, for a little help here .

I have a meme answer first.

which is that he would be so incredibly rock hard at the sight of the dark urge having a breakdown.

whether you think they were just fuck buddies or deeply in love, the man would absolutely be aroused seeing someone he regards as an equal on their knees, vulnerable and exposed ;)

now on to a serious answer... I have two.

if we go by boring canon Gortash, then yes, he would be turned off and rather disgusted by such open emotions. after all, he admires the dark urge for their self control and their logic. he wouldn't be too pleased to see them having a breakdown. he wouldn't like, end an alliance over it, but he'd always be watching the dark urge, wondering if this could be a potential weakness in the future to exploit, make sure they go along with one of his plans, or whatever. plus he wears a coat that prevents him from being overwhelmed by emotions. of course he's gonna look down on others having strong emotions they can't control, because his stupid coat makes him immune, and he thinks that makes him better.

but if we go by delululand Gortash, who is infinitely more fun.

I still think it depends, because this Gortash would look at a broken, bitter creature crying at the unfairness of it all... and he'd see himself. and that wouldn't feel comfortable. he might not scoff, but he wouldn't be sympathetic, he'd brush it off, and say you need to keep it together (like I am).

I don't think he has the most empathy, lol, even for someone he likes, and what he has is cloaked in shame and disdain and self hatred.

so that's my answer, anon.

now. though.

consider.

after the dark urge dies... Gortash thinking about the one time he saw them break down... and wishing he had said something better. done more.

maybe it would haunt him, actually. thinking about all the things they never could say to one another...

wondering if maybe... if he hadn't been so scared of something he refuses to speak into existence... maybe they could've... maybe they wouldn't have died.

at the very least, they could've known that he cared about them, that someone did, when they died.

but alas.

oooofies.

[hauntedhokage]

𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜

Fushiguro Megumi/F!Reader

summary: Megumi has held onto a lot over the last few years, a chance encounter in a park begins his road to letting go. A expansion of this little thing that will hurt more but at least I fix it?

word count: 5.5k

warnings: angst, jjk manga spoilers, character death, my canon ending and gege can’t take that from me

note: reader’s nephew does not have a name to be inclusive of other cultures/names. Reader/her nephew are not indicated as being of Japanese descent - just living in Japan. 

Megumi meets you in the spring. 

He’s walking through the park on a Saturday morning, wanting to get some sunlight after a few days kept inside due to gloomy weather. It’s quieter than he’d expected, given the time and the weather, but he wasn’t complaining about it in the slightest. The quiet gave him less to worry about, less to be on the lookout for, and he felt like he could relax for a minute. The quiet gave him time to reflect on the number of times he was at this park as a kid on Saturday mornings with his sister and their benefactor. On occasion it hurts to be there, certain days of the year or holidays, but if the sun was out he liked to make sure he went on this walk. It was one of the few places they both were with him at. 

He enjoys the solitude, even the little excited footsteps he hears running around somewhere behind him that meant someone was having fun in the near empty park close by.

Until he feels a tug on his sleeve.

He looks down to see a child, couldn’t be older than five or six, staring up at him in mild confusion. Clearly he was expecting someone else, and that has Megumi looking around for the adult tied to this child. The playground was a bit far from where they were standing, so it was possible the little one was trying to play a joke on his parent and strayed too far. 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” is all he can think to say to the kid, and internally he’s cringing at himself because that wasn’t what you should say to a potentially lost child. “Were you at the playground?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Oh there you are!” 

“Auntie!” And the kid is off, running towards the source of the voice as Megumi turns to see who it was as well. You had to be around his age, relief etched into your features as you gently scold the boy for running off like that and request that he never scare you like that again. Then you’re looking to Megumi as you stand, and it clicks for him why the boy might’ve mistaken him for his aunt despite the obvious differences: you were wearing the same sweater. A crew neck pull over for a band so old they’d stopped touring and their original merch was highly coveted, some of which being the sweatshirts you both wore as you look at each other.

“I’m sorry that he might’ve disrupted your walk.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assures, watching the way you ruffled the kid’s hair in a way that was reminiscent of how Gojo would ruffle his hair. “I’m just glad you found us quickly.”

“Me too.” And now it’s awkward, he knows he should excuse himself but he doesn’t know how. You’re pretty with a wonderful smile, good taste in music, and the kindest eyes he’s seen in a while. Not since he met Yuuji. 

“What show of theirs did you catch?” He asks, gesturing between the two matching sweaters and watching as you look down at it. 

“Uh, they were playing in Shibuya.” You say the name of the city softly, and he feels the knife in his chest at the mention. Clearly Shibuya had a negative effect on you, too, he just wondered if the reasoning was similar. “You?”

“Yokohama.” His answer rolls off the tongue easily, even though he can’t help but think about how that group was one of the few things he and Gojo had in common. The blue eyed menace was so excited to show him the two tickets, gloating about how hard he’d worked to ensure those tickets made it to his email and the way Gojo practically abused his cursed technique to make them a path to the front - something that embarrassed Megumi at fifteen but at twenty two he appreciated it much more, and he wished he could’ve verbally given his appreciation even though he knew that Gojo always knew. It was his annoying talent, something he’d taken for granted. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, your hand still on your nephew’s head but this time Megumi thinks it’s more to keep the boy in place than out of affection. 

“Yeah, totally fine.”

“Sure.” You’re smiling despite clearly not believing him, and he feels his cheeks warm up at the thought of someone seeing right through him so easily. “Anyway, we’ll let you get back to your morning. Sorry again, but hopefully we’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

You’re leaving now, letting the excited kid pull you back to the playground while telling you about how he needed to show you something cool he found in the sand box. He did hope he saw you again, he realized that he hadn’t introduced himself or gotten your name. 

The next time he sees you, it’s at the grocery store just a few days later. You’re carefully examining some avocados while your nephew waits patiently in the shopping cart while holding a box of crackers. It’s the young boy who sees him first, excitedly waving while calling out to him as “park man”, which brings your attention from the avocados to Megumi as he waves awkwardly. You were dressed for the warmer weather, in a sundress as bright as your smile when you lock eyes with him. 

“When I said hopefully we’ll see you around, I didn’t think it’d be in two days.”

“I didn’t know going to the grocery store was off limits,” he responds, tone dry as always but it doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Megumi.”

You introduce yourself and your nephew, who is excited to tell him that he’s about to turn six and Megumi nods with a smile that he really only gave to children so they wouldn’t think he was mean. But then the kid asks if Megumi wants to go his birthday party, something that has you telling him that it’s okay if he’s busy, but he has nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon but stare at a television that isn’t even turned on, so he says that he’d love to be there and relished in how excited the boy is at the information. Why this kid liked him so much after two interactions, he’d never know, but it did feel nice to make other people happy.  

“It’s going to be at the trampoline park, because what else is more entertaining than watching kids jump and fall?” He has to laugh at that, something that makes you smile as you pull your phone out. He gives you his contact information so you can text him the details of the party. “You don’t have to bring a gift or anything like that, it’s such short notice and he’s not really a gift getting kid.”

“No?”

“More of a quality time kind of guy,” you elaborate, smiling at your nephew as he plays with two bananas to make them talk to each other. “He might get that from me.”

“You’re a quality time kind of girl,” he comments, something that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud and the way you look up at him tells him that he definitely said that out loud. “I-I didn’t mean that in a weird way. Just-”

“You’re cute, Megumi.” You’re smiling again, amusement sparkling in those eyes he was quickly coming to adore. “Next Saturday, be there or be square.”

“What happened to ‘you don’t have to come’?”

“As you pointed out, I’m a quality time kind of girl. So if you’re not there, I’ll be upset.”

He can only scoff, cheeks pink as he brings the hand not holding his shopping basket to the back of his neck. It wasn’t fair that you’d figured out how to tease him so easily and here he was just mesmerized by your smile. 

It’s in the summer that Megumi realizes that he’s caught severe feelings. 

Your nephew truly liked him a lot, and you’d asked him if he was okay with spending a bit more time around them. He needed a positive male influence in his life, and Megumi was put together enough that he felt safe to spend that time with your nephew. 

He was often at your house for dinner, helping the kid with homework while you cooked. Saturday morning walks at the park turned into bird watching with colorful binoculars that were too small for his face but matched perfectly with your nephew. Board games and trying out different sports he knew how to play to appease your hope that the kid found some weekday hobby that wasn’t just playing in his room. In this additional time with you, he’d learned more about you. 

You worked in finance for a tech company, some unplanned departures occurring in your department as you came in, leaving you in charge of the department since you already had experience due to your internship you had in the company in university. 

Finance, something that made him think of Nanami even as he continues to ask you questions that you happily answer about your work despite laughing that it made for a boring conversation topic. It’s not hard for him to pick up on the fact that you hated your job - potentially just because you hated the responsibility of being in management - something that makes him wonder if you’d ever let him take care of you completely so you wouldn’t have to work. He liked you that much, which was insane considering he’d only known you for a few months. 

He gets to take you out on a real date when your nephew is away for a sleepover. 

“Where’s my buddy?” Megumi asks, noticing that there wasn’t the usual excited charge of footsteps barrelling towards him as he tried to take his shoes off. He hadn’t been told about a change in the schedule, but it also wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten to be alone with you so it wasn’t weird by any means. 

“Sleepover. His first one,” you answer from the kitchen, and he follows your voice to where you’re cutting up fruit. “It’s a little weird, I’ve never spent a night away from him since I adopted him.”

“I can imagine,” he comments, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed. “Do you maybe want to go out tonight? Get a drink or something that’s less than child friendly?”

He watches as you consider it, your hand that was once diligently slicing strawberries halted as you look down at the cutting board.

“Go out?”

“Yeah- I mean, if you want to stay in that’s fine,” he tries to recover, hoping he hadn’t offended you by suggesting you go do something people your age did when they didn’t have children for the night. “I just was thinking that-”

“No, it’s a good idea!” You sound excited, setting the knife down to turn to face him properly. You look at what he’s wearing before looking down at your own clothes, he assumes to check and make sure you’re not underdressed, and you seem okay with your attire. “What time should we head out?”

“Whenever you’re ready, there’s no rush since it’s just us two and no babysitter who needs to get home.” He doesn’t want to point out that most bars are going to be open until well after midnight, because he knows that dedicating your life to raising a child while single produces a lot of missed opportunities to do things that a lot of people your age did. Plus you never had a chance to really get into going out like that, not that he really did either. “Relax, you aren’t going to be graded on how you act in a bar.”

“Okay, but like how should I dress? Is this okay or like…better sweater?”

“I think you look great.” His cheeks are warm, he’s sure they’re at least pink if not bright red as he looks away from your smile, embarrassed that he’d said something so forward. What if you weren’t into him like that? He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. In the back of his mind, he thinks of Nobara and how she always had an outfit for any occasion - and if she didn’t, she was demanding a trip into the city so she could buy it.Appearances were close to everything to her, and you were a lot like her in that way.  

But that’s something he doesn’t have to worry about after your evening together. He’d taken you home, not realizing that he’d been holding your hand the entire way until you gave it a gentle squeeze at your door. The invitation to come in and hang out for a while is accepted embarrassingly quickly, but he feels comfortable sitting across from you on the couch as you tell him about how you’d come into being the guardian of your nephew. To hear that your family had died in Shibuya when your nephew was a baby was not something he was ready to hear, a guilt washing over him that he was unable to save anyone in that situation. You’d lost everything because of his lack of strength - he supposed you had so much more in common than he’d initially realized.

“No remains to pay respects to, they just…never came home.” He’s impressed that you keep your emotions in check as you talk about the loss. His hand comes to hold yours that rests on the back of the couch, thumb stroking the back of your hand as you try to smile for him. “Sorry, kinda killed the mood a bit.”

“No, not at all,” he tries to assure, scooting closer to you on the couch as you shake your head. “I appreciate that you shared that with me, truly.”

“You just feel safe, Megumi. I really like you a lot, if that’s not weird to say.” Your confession has his stomach turning, heart pounding as he’s relieved to hear that from you. “I’m glad you wanted to spend time with me tonight.”

“Of course I did, I really like you too.” He’s mumbling, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. It’s your turn to scoot closer, needing to move your legs to the side so you could get as close as you could. “It’d be nice to take you out more, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yeah, of course.” You’re leaning in closer, and he takes the opportunity to meet you halfway in a kiss. Your hands hold his cheeks, and he basks in how soft you are. Your hands, your lips, your heart, just everything - a softness he’d been lacking over the past few years. You remind him of Yuuji with how welcoming you were, how relaxed and non-judgemental you were, plus you always managed to smile like his friend did. 

“I’d wanted to do that since you jumped into the foam cubes with me at the trampoline park,” you whisper, and he feels the warmth radiating off of your cheeks as he keeps you close to him. 

“You’ve got me however you want me,” he assures, holding your chin in place so he could kiss you again. 

Megumi realizes that he’s in love with you in the fall.

The quickly approaching anniversary of the Shibuya Incident has you both on edge, something he tries to push down for your nephew’s sake since he was excited for Halloween. He takes the boy shopping for a costume, where the question if they could have matching costumes comes up. He, personally, had no interest in even being around on Halloween - more interested in sitting in Gojo’s apartment cleaning or crying, whatever came up first. 

But he sees how excited the kid is and has to say yes. 

They settle on being pirates, a decision that had you smiling when you saw the shopping bags and heard the excited chattering about how he and Megumi were going to be pirates together for Halloween. Your nephew would be the pirate captain, Megumi his loyal first mate, with room for you on the crew if you wanted to join them. For obvious reasons you also weren’t big on Halloween but put on a brave face for your nephew, and agreed to join their crew with a promise to get your costume soon. 

And Megumi tags along when you do go shopping, taking advantage of another sleepover to spend an afternoon and evening together without risk of a nightmare or other need sending the child into your bed to wedge himself between you and Megumi for a more comforting night of rest. You also didn’t have to cook dinner, Megumi treating you to an easy meal at a sushi restaurant you’d mentioned wanting to try before letting you lead him around the shops to find the perfect pieces to your costume that could also be reused as everyday clothes. 

“You think it’ll be cute?” you ask, holding up the red blouse to your body. “Not like, as a pirate, but in the office? Maybe the gray pantsuit I have?”

“Maybe the black one more than the gray, you also have those pinstripe pants you like.”

“You mean the ones that you like?” your teasing has him red, looking away from your smug expression and down at the shopping bags he was holding for you. 

“Yeah, they’re uh- they’re cute on you.”

He thinks you get too much satisfaction in his embarrassment, but happily pays for your blouse because you would look cute in it and he liked investing in your cuteness and his pleasure in seeing you be cute in your professional wear. Did you hate it? Absolutely, but did it stop him? Absolutely not

And when you’re done, he takes you back to his apartment since it was closer than yours. You hadn’t really been in his space before, only once for a few minutes when you needed to grab your nephew’s jacket that had been left in Megumi’s car (another relic of Gojo’s that barely saw use). This would be different, you’d be staying the night, seeing more parts of him that you hadn’t yet seen. 

To be expected, you explore the space when he asks that you make yourself at home. Your jacket, a zip up he’d left behind that you’d absorbed into your closet, is hung up on the coat rack and you do a slow lap around your living room as he gets the water he’d offered. Questions are sent his way about art on the walls, his video game collection, the books on the bookcase, and he answers them all without needing to look at what you’re asking about. The art he’d gotten from an old mentor (an item from Nanami’s home that Shoko thought he would like), he did really like playing video games - mostly online ones with Yuuji, and the books didn’t get as much time off the bookcase as they should (something that gets a laugh from you as you turn away from the bookcase. 

But then you get to the shelves, commenting on the little figures that sat there and how cool it was that you had so many things from other countries, and he braces himself for when you finally focus on the picture that sat there. The figures were all souvenirs from Gojo’s travels, most of them given to him when he was still a child but something his benefactor carried into his teenage years since it’d become a tradition. It wasn’t until Gojo died that Megumi had learned that all of his figures had a match that lived in Gojo’s den. Now when Megumi got to travel he got a trinket for himself and another to add to Gojo’s collection, as was tradition. 

“Hey, Megumi, who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the lone picture on the shelf as he hands you a glass of water. “Your dad?”

And for the first time, he looks at that picture he took from Gojo’s apartment and doesn’t feel his stomach drop. It was a picture of him with Gojo celebrating his acceptance into Jujutsu High (as if someone of Zen’in descent would ever be denied with or without Gojo’s interference), a rare picture of himself as a teen with Gojo where he’s smiling by choice and not just to appease whoever was behind the camera. One of few photos of only him and Gojo, and a photo that Megumi cherished. 

“Yeah, kinda,” he starts, drinking from his own glass while pointing to the white haired menace printed on paper. “He took my sister and I in when we were kids. Basically my dad, since I never really knew my real father.”

“You have a sister?”

“She passed away when we were teenagers, around when I started high school.” That was the easiest explanation, bringing in the information around the curse and other things you wouldn’t really understand was just easier. “He, uh, he did too a couple years later. Trying to save me.”

You don’t say anything, only wrap your arm around him so you can rub his back as he tries to maintain his composure. He knows he doesn’t have to, you’d proven time and time again that you were a safe space for him to not be so guarded, but Gojo was such a sensitive topic for him. They all were, but Gojo raised him - Gojo made him who he was today - he was beyond special in Megumi’s heart and his memory deserved to be protected. 

“Come sit,” you prompt, pulling him from the wall and he lets you guide him to the couch. The blanket that sat on the back of the couch is grabbed as soon as you have hands free to do so, pulling it over his body as he crashes into you. He’s more than just comfortable enough to release the emotional buildup into your chest while you pet his head, running your fingers through his hair as you encourage him to let it out. The last time he cried like this was when he’d learned that Gojo had died, punching into the ground until Shoko and Yuuji had to drag him off of the cement and clean him up. And here he was now, sobbing into your chest like a child but not feeling ashamed about it in the slightest. 

“You’re so strong, Megumi,” you whisper, kissing his head and letting your lips linger as he sniffles. “But you don’t have to be all the time. Thank you for trusting me to take care of you.”

“H-his name was Satoru,” Megumi forces out, something that has you holding him just a bit tighter as you rest your cheek against his head. “Satoru Gojo. And I owe him everything.”

It’s about twenty minutes before he’s truly calmed down, but he’s grateful that you’re so safe for him to just let it all go. He makes no move to leave your loving embrace, securely held in your arms and ready to doze off against your chest. It probably wasn’t very comfortable for you, his bed was a better spot to snuggle up and sleep, but you didn’t ask for him to relocate with you. You kept him there, kept him close, and the sound of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep with your fingers gently scratching his scalp and your other hand rubbing his back. He tiredly considers that you’d likely been crammed into much more uncomfortable positions while caring for your nephew, but will do his best to remember to offer you some kind of massage or something in the future. 

In the morning he takes you into Gojo’s apartment. Still untouched, only a light layer of dust had collected that he’d be cleaning up later. Not once do you ask why the apartment was still vacant, or why Megumi kept everything in there - he’s sure you’d already come to a reason for that on your own and it was likely the correct one. Instead you ask him about Gojo; about the choices in decor, if they had any routines or traditions they participated in, favorite shows and how he cooked. Anything that came to mind, and Megumi answered each question without hesitation. Even some questions about Tsumiki and how she was as a sister; if you asked, he would answer while you walked around the living areas while avoiding the bedrooms as he’d requested. 

“Hey Megumi?” you comment after about an hour, looking up from a picture of Gojo and Shoko as teens to see him dusting around the coffee table. “Thank you for bringing me here, and trusting me with your love for Satoru and Tsumiki.”

On reflex he wants to deny that he loved Gojo, something he’d done a lot before his death, but instead he only nods before glancing down at the table. The succulent that was there would need to be replaced, probably the seventh Megumi has bought to keep the space exactly as it once was. And he realizes in that moment just why he’d brought you here - he loved you so much that he wanted you to know about his family. 

“Well, I figured it was time since we’d been together for a while. Family comes up, and you’d already mentioned yours.” The response has you nodding, putting the picture frame back and making sure that it looked exactly as it had before. “I love you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I figured,” you say softly, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re kinda obvious, even though you try not to be.”

“It didn’t click until this morning, to be fair,” he defends, something that has you shaking your head for with a smile. 

“I love you too, dork.” You’re leaning up to kiss him, something chaste given the environment. “We’ll have to swap out some of the plants here. I think I can save a couple, though.”

“If you could try, I’d appreciate it. A couple of the palms are from when he was still alive and I’ve barely kept them alive.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can.” Your assurance earns another kiss from Megumi, his thanks whispered against your lips before you check your watch. “Gotta go pick up the kid, though. I know you’re going to dust a bit more, so the dinner invite is there if you want it. But, I’ll see you later, Megs,” you assure as you slide into your shoes, following that with the fact that you were going to get your keys from his apartment before heading out to get your nephew. 

Instead of picking up the duster, he follows behind you while assuring you that he could clean while you were at work and the kid was at school on Monday - the time with you two over the weekend was more important than cleaning to appease his ghosts. 

Two years later Megumi finds himself married. On the day you’d met him in the park, something small with his remaining friends who lived (Yuuji being the most excited to spin you around in your wedding dress) and the few people you’d kept in your circle. Yuuji also takes your nephew for the ten days you were away for your honeymoon in Malaysia, ten days that feel odd without the young boy asking questions about the various things he saw along the beach or on the little events you both went to. But you did spend more time than probably necessary looking through various gift shops holding up shirts and other trinkets to commemorate the trip and make sure there were plenty of good things for your nephew to get as gifts. They’d have to go back with him, teach him about what they’d learned from the locals and see the sights and different wildlife that weren’t in Japan. A fun family vacation, one of many he’d like to take you both on. 

He moves into a modest home with his little family, bigger than both of your apartments had been but nothing excessive. Enough space should you both choose to expand your family, but the only recent addition is a set of kittens that spend their days ruining the curtains and trying to sleep in his shoes. Satoru and Suguru were little chaos agents, but were the perfect additions to the family and that fact was consistently cemented when he saw them sleeping on either side of your nephew’s head every night.

Gojo’s palms live in your new home, a few of the pictures from his apartment living on the walls and the mantle. He’d finally felt ready to let go of the space that Gojo would never return to, taking a few afternoons with you, Yuuji, and Shoko to go through it all and make sure they got pieces of Gojo that they had also wanted. Yuuji, of course, takes the expensive lounge chair and a few pictures, but Shoko was very selective about the few photos she wanted and the lighters Gojo was consistently stealing from her and hoarding. Those pieces of Gojo that meant the most to Megumi lived in your home, everything else in a storage unit for Megumi to dig through when he thinks of something you’d like to see or your nephew would like to see. When he travels for work, he still buys two trinkets but the second goes to your nephew while he keeps the first - a new version of the tradition and repetition of the cycle. 

The festival season brings about his usual anxiety of people being around in large crowds to celebrate, too reminiscent of how they were led into the subway station like lambs to slaughter and butchered by curses. The flames of Sukuna’s technique flash through his mind, tension settling in his shoulders even as you grip his hand tighter while moving through the crowds. “We can go home, Megumi. I forgot today was-”

“No, we’re already out and he’s having fun. Go do what you need to do, we’ll be around.” The assurance is met with a concerned frown and he does his best to smile for you before kissing your forehead. He can understand why you don’t buy it, at this point he’d given you all of the details surrounding the Shibuya incident and after, but he needs you to relax and trust him - even if he is having a hard time relaxing. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’ll do your shopping, we’ll go get food, then we’ll get home to the cats. Easy plan.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes,” you start, looking between your nephew and Megumi with a smile. “Be good, you two.”

“Best behavior.” They both salute to you, and Megumi feels warm at the way you laugh before walking away in your pretty sundress. The sun at your back made it look as if you were glowing, which to him you were. His light at the end of the tunnel, his wife that he never expected to have three years ago. But the sun at your back means the sun will be in his face, and the face of the nephew who broke his sunglasses this morning. 

“Here, put these on,” he says, squatting to be at eye level with the boy - his nephew - and places the round sunglasses he wore onto the little face in front of him. “Better?”

A nod, and Megumi gives a nod of his own before picking the boy up as he stands, lifting him to sit on his shoulders so he was less likely to lose the kid while you were trying to shop for a birthday present in private. The boy was almost getting too big for Megumi to hold on his shoulders like that as often as he did, but he’d do it as long as he could - just like Gojo always did. 

And he knows that this is what Gojo always wanted for him. A life outside of jujutsu sorcery to escape to when the woes of fighting curses became too strong, a family to take care of him just as he took care of them. Gojo always wanted him to feel loved and be comfortable showing love in return, and Megumi had found that in you and the kid sitting on his shoulders pointing out different vendors on the street. 

“You good, Megs?” you ask once you’re back with them, your hand sliding into his as his other hand reaches for the couple bags you’d gotten while you were gone.

“Perfect,” he assures, bending his knees a bit so you could meet him for a kiss. “I’m going to need some new sunglasses, though.” 

“I saw that and doubled back, there are some in the bag for you.” Once again you amaze him by how well you watch him even when he thinks you’re not. That must’ve been why you took so long to get back. “Thought you might want to try a different style, though.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

[spoon-slayer]

TASM Peter Parker x TASM Gwen x Son reader

Okay, so this is an AU where Gwen doesn't die and she and Peter stay together and Gwen gets pregnant. Maybe you can write that she goes into labor and Peter has a cute fluff moment with being able to hold/see his son and Peter trying to calm him down.

Or

TASM Peter Parker x Son Reader

Peter is a single dad and it's his son's first doctor's appointment in the end, the reader has to get a shot and gets scared so Peter does his best to calm him down.

[Sorry I need fluff right now]

Shots Aren’t That Bad

TASM!Peter Parker x Son!Reader [MASTER LIST] SUMMARY: Peter hasn’t been a proper father in so long. So, when you begin to throw a fit over needing shots, he doesn’t know how to handle it. WARNINGS: Needles, shots, Doctor Offices + Brief mentions of depression and death. A/N: Hello! I’m back, and you’re the first request I’m writing for! I tweaked it a bit, so let me know if you didn’t want that! Please excuse how long it’s taken me to write this, I’m trying to get back into the groove of things. Let me know about any mistakes in my writing, and I’ll get to fixing it soon. Enjoy! [GIF NOT MINE]

Peter honestly didn’t know how his uncle did it, taking a kid to a scheduled appointment for shots. Having to wrestle the petrified kid to sit still long enough for a shot to the arm.

Because, right now, he had to sooth a screaming five year old. Sure, it would’ve been nice to have some help but he had to learn to do this himself. He wasn’t sixteen anymore, he was almost twenty-one. Aunt May won’t always be there to help him.

Peter’s depression after Gwen’s death lasted far too long for his liking. He missed out on quite a bit and had a lot of… For a lack of better words, ‘dad duties’ to catch up on. And, god forbid, it was hard. Really hard.

Frustration bubbled through his chest as soon as the doctor left the room. When his five year old son, You, immediately turned to beg for a way out of getting a shot. Pleading.

“Daddy,” you began, fingers moving to curl into Peter’s shirt. Peter gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t get frustrated with you, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been so long since he’d last dealt with a potential tantrum, so his skills lacked and his knowledge failed.

Why did he have to fall into that deep depression? This all would’ve been so much easier if he hadn’t closed himself off.

“You’re getting that shot,” Peter lifted his hand, brushing his fingers delicately through your hair. It did little to sedate your fear. And honestly? Peter didn’t expect it to. So he was far from surprised on how you reacted. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but afterwards we’re going to get some food.”

“Daddy,” you repeated, voice growing louder. Peter grimaced. A tantrum was imminent, and he was dreading its approach. Your bottom lip trembled in the pout you had mustered, eyes tearful and cheeks just about to be streaked with tears. “I don’t want it, it’s gonna hurt.”

“I know. It’ll be over before you know it. Just, bear with me here. Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” Peter damn near pleaded. His hands moved from your hair to cradle your face. You’ve grown to fit into his palms comfortably. Peter ignored the dull ache in his chest at the realization.

He’d missed it.

“It’s going to hurt,” You repeated. You were crying now, grabbing at his shirt. “It always hurts,” Peter grit his teeth. He had to stay calm. You were just a child, of course you had fears and trouble with regulating your emotions. He wiped some tears.

“Please,” You pleaded. This wasn’t going to work on him. But, it didn’t hurt to try.

“Kid,” Peter spoke more sternly now. “No. C’mon, there has to be something to calm you…” Peter muttered, more to himself than to you.

There had to be something to sedate this fear. Something had to work, something had to give. And, despite all his efforts, it led to screaming. (Of course it did, or else it wouldn’t have been mentioned at the beginning of this story.)

Frustration had finally seeped from his chest and into his head, clouding his mind as tears, too, flooded his eyes. And that was what got you to cease your screaming and crying, reduced to hiccups as your father damn near sobbed from the frustration you were bringing him.

Guilt. You felt guilt numb your fears. “Daddy…?” You wiped your face haphazardly, hands now wet with salty tears from your short lived tantrum.

“What?” Peter replied, exasperated. He had long since backed away from you, hands now clutching at his hair and tugging lightly. He had even sat himself down on the seat beside the examination table you sat upon. His tone was harsh, tired. Once he got a look at your face, your reaction, he sighed and softened up. “What is it?”

You didn’t reply for a moment, silently studying him. Something you picked up during his absence from your life. From a young age, you had to adapt to mood swings between good days and bad days. Where your father was energized enough to Sit and watch a movie to the days he’d lay in bed, easily irritated by your presence and getting Aunt May to take care of you. You learned to tell his mood from it.

From what you saw, he wasn’t a ‘Happy Daddy,’ or a ‘Mad Daddy.’ Neither of those categories were linear but just a general sense of if he was in a mood or not. Rather, this one, was more of a ‘Sad Daddy.’ (The system of which you developed wasn’t full proof. As, sometimes he looked happy when he was sad.)

With this assessment, you briefly fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, tugging on it for just a moment. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was quiet, meek.

And Peter paused. He’d heard that tone before, many times. From the days he’d lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling and groaning in disdain that his Son even requested his attention and called for his Aunt to get you. (He’ll never forgive himself for those days. He was going to rebuild this relationship with his son.)

“It’s okay, I…” Peter stopped, wetting his lips. He was back to standing. “It’s okay. I just got frustrated, that’s all. It’s okay,” he reassured.

“I’ll get the shot,” You continued, watching as Peter gently grasped your hands in his. “I won’t cry, I promise. I’ll be a big boy.”

Peter honestly didn’t like how you were acting. Not in the sense it made him angry, more so… Sad. Guilty. You were trying to act mature, trying to seem less like a little boy and more like an understanding adult. “You can cry. Don’t… Don’t act like this, please. It’s.. I…” Peter struggled. He couldn’t find the right words, really. “Crying shows you’re strong..?” Was that the right thing to say? God damn it. He didn’t know what he was doing and it showed. Next time Aunt May gives him unsolicited parenting advice, he’s going to listen.

Well, at least you stopped crying.

[starstruckwillows]

1725 — regulus black ♡

requested by anon<3

regulus black x fem!reader, platonic!marauders, hurt/comfort, fluff, brief panic attack, swearing, non descript mention of feeling ill

you’re best friends with the marauders, but you like regulus

the marauders were used to your sunny disposition and easy smiles, greeting them in the corridors with side hugs before tearing off wherever you needed to be. taking random photos and losing them three days later.

you were a bit of blur like that.

but recently they’d noticed you pulling away. and it wasn’t just them. there were bags frequenting the areas beneath your eyes, less pep in your step, that sort of thing. the usual signs of stress.

it was beginning to worry your friends.

“hey, are you co-” james tried, but you smiled weakly and were off down the corridor at record speed.

remus approached you with a copy of the daily prophet, not looking up at you as he did so, “have you seen th-”

you’d slipped away.

flitwick sat you next to peter in charms, upon the gryffindor boy’s request. a plea of personal concern. apparently the teacher’s had noticed your sudden swing as well. but you were out the class and feigning a headache in the sick room moments later.

well, not feigning. the lack of sleep was pounding inside your head recently.

you weren’t sure why this was impacting you so greatly. it was a... crush. it was a few torrid, heart pounding moments. a couple of emotional conversations. some hands brushing. one hug.

and it was wrong, so you weren’t going to act on it. you couldn’t.

but it was weighing you down.

“what’s going on?” you’d been so absorbed in your own thoughts, and the rising bile in your throat as a product of your over thinking, you hadn’t noticed sirius corner you.

you coughed, “we’re in a library, sirius, keep your voice down.”

there was a raw quality to your voice, a consequence of crying. he noticed it immediately.

“please talk to me.”

trying not to choke, “i can’t.”

he froze, “why? seriously, what’s going on? you’re scaring me.”

the panic was starting to take hold of you again. the dust on the shelves was settling in your lungs, constricting them painfully.

the eldest black brother was no stranger to these attacks. the icy, burning grips of them. he sat you down, and you tried to ignore the grime on the floor.

“this is worrying us all now, love. you can talk to me, you always can.”

despite your calmer state, you were adamant, “i can’t. it’s fine. i’ll... stop. i just need space.”

“you need sleep. like, yesterday. but this is clearly bothering you, so will you please just out with it.”

you shook your head, stomach churning, “i feel awful. i can’t.”

sirius stopped pushing. a little hurt that you acted like you couldn’t trust him, which is why he later went to find you again. he never was one for letting things be.

he found you at the astronomy tower, in an apparent argument with someone. you sounded in enough distress that he stuck around.

“i’m sorry. it’s too complicated, our lives are just incompatibile. we can’t see each other anymore.” you cried.

a lower voice he almost recognized protested, also sounding thick with tears, “i don’t understand. you said it didn’t matter. we knew it would be hard-”

you cut him off, “what would be hard? we... we aren’t together. i’ve cried myself sick over it already, regulus. this can’t work. sirius would never be okay with it.”

there was a slight pang that you were putting your potential happiness aside because of him, but sirius’ main feeling was anger and it’s source was his younger brother constantly getting involved in his life.

it was that burn of resentment that had him rounding the corner, spiteful words pouring free that he wasn’t completely sure he meant.

“and here i was worried about you, coming to check on you, when all that was wrong was you screwing around with my brother.”

sirius wasn’t cold. he was anger and frustration, an open flame, spitting oil.

you didn’t face him, eyes trained on regulus’ face. pale skin streaked with salty tears, dark eyes clouded, and a slight tremor in his hands. suddenly, maintaining sirius’ expectation wasn’t your main priority. regulus was hurting, because of you.

“please.” his whisper was almost inaudible.

but then you did look at sirius. and he was hurting too. and you’d caused it.

“sorry, i can’t be here.” you muttered, and fled. it was unlike you, someone who always faced their problems head-on, to be so flighty. you’d gone from grabbing the bull by it’s horns to hiding in a bush until it passes.

sirius misplaced the blame for your change on his brother.

“you couldn’t stop at my bedroom? or quidditch? you had to start fucking my friends?”

regulus wasn’t crying anymore, “we’re not like that, we haven’t... it’s none of your business sirius, you can’t tell either of us who we can date.”

sirius scoffed, “i know. but she ended it, so you can stop now.”

“i don’t want to,” regulus protested, “she only ended it because of you. you keep ruining things.”

“i keep ruining things? fuck off.” he left his younger brother up there, fuming.

the next day, you felt everyone was avoiding you. realistically, sirius had only told james, but every eye felt trained and you couldn’t cope.

regulus tried to openly approach you, something that had never happened before, multiple times over the following days. everytime you saw him, you ran, continually contradicting your usual fight or flight response.

this was supposed to be better. a blip to be moved past, then things with your friends could go back to normal. but regulus, your regulus, wasn’t a ‘blip’. you couldn’t attempt to think of him in such a callous way.

james found you in a detention you’d received for skipping class, and he’d received for a variety of recent pranks. neither of you could leave.

a part of you expected him to cold-shoulder you, but you knew really he would never.

“hey, how are you?” he askd, with a sincere smile you’d missed greatly.

you couldn’t find it in yourself to reciprocate that as you quietly answered, “alright. you?”

james shrugged, “i’m great, but i don’t think you are.”

“maybe not.” you trod lightly. james and sirius were more brothers than regulus and sirius were, and you imagined sirius was still furious with you.

his face twisted briefly, like he was having an internal fight, before saying, “you shouldn’t end your thing with regulus just because of sirius.”

whatever you were expecting him to tell you, it wasn’t that. you shrugged, “not just because of sirius. it wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“why?” you weren’t prepared for james’ questioning. it wasn’t pressing, it sounded genuinely casual.

you shrugged, “he’s a... y’know, bad guy.”

“who told you that? sirius?”

yeah, you wanted to say, and he’s biased.

but you didn’t. again, you shrugged.

james paused once more before blurting, “he feels bad. sirius, i mean, for getting involved and shouting at you, and... i don’t know. no matter how he feels about his brother, he loves you, and he didn’t mean to make you cry. inadvertently or not. plus, remus laid into him pretty hard.”

you kicked back in your chair, teetering over the edge. you weren’t so sad as lost. the gum in your mouth had long abandoned flavour as you considered. talking to james, you felt more like yourself than you had in weeks.

“i miss them. but i can’t have both. y’know what sirius says, bros over hoes.” the jest was an attempt to lighten the mood, and while it worked because james was as easily humoured as ever, he didn’t let you dismiss it all so easily.

he stood in front of your desk, tipping your chair forward so you didn’t fall and crack your head, and planted his hands on your desk, “you don’t owe this to either of them. they’ll get over it, don’t tell sirius i said that, and you deserve to be happy. put yourself first for once.”

“hypocrite,” you mumbled, but you were swayed. james was good at that.

“i’ll sort flitwick. go find regulus.”

so you did. and it took some tears, a lot of explaining, and the clear planning of boundaries, but you did. you found each other.

it wasn’t long after you sought out sirius, sitting down in front of him and sliding a piece of paper across the desk. he looked up at you confused, “well i’m glad to see you mate, but why the blank bit of paper?”

“1725. treaty of vienna. we’re gonna be peaceful and stuff.”

amusement lit his face, “the peace of vienna was about taking down napoleon. it wasn’t all that peaceful.”

you huffed, “whatever, siri, it was symbolic. i’m sorry. but i’m not going to stop seeing your brother.”

he sighed, twinkle lost and smile dropping slightly, “i know. i know, and i’ll... be fine with it.”

“you’ll talk with him?”

sirius winced, “don’t know. but we’re fine, okay? at least on my end.”

you hugged him suddenly, and while he was taken off guard, he hugged you back with relief.

“i’m... going to find reg now. okay?”

he shot you a somewhat awkward thumbs up, and gave a slightly forced but points for trying, “okay.”

it was night time and the two of you were at the astronomy tower again, as if the last two weeks had never happened. except for some obvious differences, like the two of you curling into each other, hands twisted, eyes roaming the other’s face with no shame.

the violet hues beneath your eyes had disappeared.

🏷️ — @faeriieblush @ariyabella @it-be-me-ella @songofpatrochilless @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @saturnband @ell0ra-br3kk3r @river13254 @meredarling @sillylittlenonbinarygremlin

[save-the-villainous-cat]

could i request for a hero x villain dating but neither of them know theyre hero/villain until like villain unmasks hero and oops! thats their partner of like a year. or maybe the hero makes a huge sacrifice by unmasking themselves..either way, i leave it up to you!! thanks!

The hero leaned their head back, smiling, and god, the early morning light hit their face just right. More at peace than anything else, they enjoyed the moment and despite the blood on their neck or their bruises on their fingers, they seemed happy. The villain could only watch in awe, astonished that this was the person they were dating. At least that took their mind off the fact that they were sitting on the edge of a rooftop.

“This is really unfortunate,” they said. “I didn’t see this coming at all.”

It wasn’t sarcasm and the villain knew that feeling. Shock at first, denial right after and somewhere along the way, anger and frustration mixed together. But what was there to say? What could one make of this?

One thing was quite clear; everything had changed.

“I think I should apologise, then. I’m the bad guy here.” The hero turned towards them, their face still calm, still beautiful.

“Darling, we’ve been in this for long enough to know that it’s not black and white,” the hero said. They gazed into the distance, thinking. “Isn’t it funny? We found each other in both our lives.”

They looked down, probably drowning in their own thoughts. The hero had a talent for that. Being patient.

“This makes everything a lot more difficult, though. We agreed that work is work and home is home. But now work isn’t just work anymore and home isn’t just home. Home is work and work is home and I don’t want to, no, I cannot—”

“Love,” the hero interrupted them, “I am not mad at you. God, I cannot blame you for keeping it a secret. I did too. And I know why. This isn’t a violation of trust, this is a question of protection. Who on earth would tell anyone that they’re a superhero? Who would tell them they’re a villain? I cannot be mad at you, we both made a choice.”

“This is jeopardising our relationship,” the villain reminded them. “We’ll fight here because we have to and we’ll fight at home because there is nothing else to do. Just thinking about the pain I caused…I can’t believe that it was me all along who scarred you.”

“I love you, you know? We can figure this out,” the hero said quietly.

The villain could only sigh.

What if they could not? There was no way the villain would give up on their job, they loved the hero, truly, deeply loved them but if they quit, others would take advantage of it and either expose their identity or make sure they would wake up in a coffin the next day.

Giving up their power meant giving up their protection and their own vulnerability would harm the hero as well.

“Christ, I can’t do this…” they mumbled. They looked at their feet, feeling the world spin around them. This was it, this was the end of their relationship and the hero still tried to solve it.

It was true, the world wasn’t black and white but this wasn’t really grey either.

“We can figure this out, I promise,” the hero said. “Calm down, my love.”

“I can’t,” the villain whispered and they came to the tedious conclusion that they were crumbling inside. Hadn’t they deserved this one person? Hadn’t they deserved this one home that didn’t scare them? Hadn’t they deserved to sleep next to someone without having nightmares? It fell to ashes right before their eyes, running like sand through their fingers.

Tears burnt in their eyes. Having someone in their house, in their bed who worked against them, who could use them…the villain couldn’t stand the thought. Conflicts at home were hard for them and they often caught themselves being manipulated by people they loved. The hero wasn’t like that but now the hero had the potential to become that. The first tears were rolling down their face by the time they had realised it.

“Love…” The hero’s voice was careful now, trying not to cross any lines.

“I think we should take a break,” the villain whispered and in the hero’s eyes, they could see theirs and their very own soul breaking.

[aro-geo-turtle]

Thinking about a potential angsty malevolent au that role swaps Arthur and Parker because I honestly don’t think Parker could have reformed John like Arthur did

Like, obviously this is super speculative cause we’ve never met Parker and only know a bit about him 2nd hand

But we know he looked at pathetic drunken mess Arthur Lester, decided that was the man he wanted to be detectives with, and then somehow actually managed to drag him back into being a quasi-functional human being.

We also know he and Arthur were a very effective investigative team, so he probably Arthur balanced out in a lot of ways. Arthur is very reckless and stubborn and throws himself at his problems, maybe Parker was more wary and cautious, more of a planner. Arthur has a remarkable talent for getting people to hate him in a weirdly obsessive way, perhaps Parker had the genuine kind-hearted charisma.

And we know from part 39 that Parker was the one who did most of the physical intimidation and brute strength parts of the job, so he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty when it came to it.

And I feel like this paints a picture of a man who could get along well enough with the John Doe we have today…but maybe not the Entity he started as.

A big part of the reason Arthur and John’s relationship works is because they have basically the same response to feeling threatened: yell, scream, blame the other person for everything wrong in the world, hit where it hurts, give as good as they take, refuse to give an inch. And when they push too hard, this leads to some really horrible fights. But eventually they wear themselves out, all the feelings are out in the open, they pick themselves up, apologize, and move forward.

This dynamic is established very early on. In the first episode, John/the entity has all the knowledge, he knows more about what happened, about the supernatural, about Arthur’s surroundings. And he immediately uses this power to lie to and manipulate Arthur. But Arthur doesn’t let him keep that power over him for long. He gets his wits about him, establishes his own power as the one with the physical body here, and starts shoving back against John. Every time he does what John says, he makes it clear it’s because he has agreed it’s the best course of action. They establish a balance quickly.

This early in his independent existence, basically all John has is the King’s instincts of “humans are weaklings to be manipulated” and Arthur immediately asserts that that attitude is not going to stand with him, forcing John to rethink his relationship with humanity

Parker…likely wouldn’t have Arthur’s stubborn reckless audacity. I think he’s be more likely to respond with caution, bide his time and try not to make this thing mad until he can figure out how powerful it really is. With the lie that he was the one to kill Arthur, Parker might even extend compassion and empathy towards the entity, thinking that this thing has no memory of who he once was and no bodily autonomy at all, he’s probably really scared and covering it up.

This caution and empathy would serve Parker well in a whole lot of situations and probably save him from a lot that Arthur blunders into, but if he does a lot of what the entity tells him to do with little complaint…he’s going to be accidentally reinforcing the kings instincts that humans are to be bossed around instead of challenging them

And if bides his time until he’s fairly sure the entity can’t really hurt him and then starts pushing back and challenging him, that might feel like a betrayal or deception to the entity

I’m not sure exactly how things would go down, but I just think that Arthur was really the only person who could have set John on the right path by reckless challenging him from the beginning

(Parker paired with Yellow on the other hand… now that’s perfect and everyone needs to go read Refrain from the Surrogate AU right now)